Rebellion Strikes (Part 2)

Sister sternly pulled my arm, "Didn't you hear me? I said you were next." I hadn't even realized the line had moved in front of me. How long had I been gone lost in my own thoughts? Obediently, I walked over and sat beside Father, Mr. Grumpy himself. I went through the motions quickly and emotionless, and then stopped in mid-sentence. "It's been…" How long had it been since I was last at confession? "Who really cares?" I thought and said, "A week since my last confession" knowing full well it had been much longer than that. Father nodded.

I knew I was supposed to pour out my indiscretions at this point but wasn't in the mood. I toyed with how to proceed and Father eyed me curiously out of the corner of his eye. Feeling dangerously mischievous I proclaimed, "I don't have anything to confess, Father."

He shifted his weight and turned so I was looking straight at him. "You have nothing to confess?" He didn't sound like he believed me, probably because he didn't. I always had lots to say.

"No, I took a break from being a bad sinner this week, Father. All of us have to be good some time, don't we?" Part of me was thinking, "Have you lost your flipping mind, girl?" but the other part of me didn't care. For some reason, I felt like I was challenging him, probably because I was!

I could feel the tension growing between us as my defiance never weakened. "Get out of here now!" he bellowed. Oddly calm, I thought, "That took longer then I thought." I got up and walked out with Sister and everyone else staring at me. As I strode past Steven, he looked up with an odd smirk on his face. I knew I was going to be in deep trouble this time, but I didn't care. I don't even know why. I just didn't.

In the schoolyard I stood quietly gazing at the rose bushes, feeling anti-social, and not at all happy. My trip to see the principal had gone about as well as I had expected. I got a long lecture and a promise to call my Nan, which means I would be in deep doo doo when I got home. Still I didn't have any regrets. I was tired of this place and most everyone in it.

I felt warm hands wrap around my eyes. "Guess who?" I couldn't help but smile. "Hhhhmmm…Steven?" I asked trying to make it sound like I wasn't sure. He turned me towards him with a big grin. "What were you thinking?" I shrugged. He laughed, "I would've loved to have been a fly on the wall in Sister's office this morning. What happened?"

Not wanting to get into it, I shrugged again. "Okay, I get it. You don't want to talk about it. Meet me after school. I'll walk you home." The bell rang and we watched as everyone ran to get in line. "Well…?"

"Well, what?"

"Are you going to meet me?" I noticed he was holding my hand and realized I didn't even know he had taken it in the first place.

"Well, yeah, of course." He smiled, and we walked over to join the rest of the clan. He had never walked me home before, usually he disappeared as soon as we got out the doors, so it made me wonder why now.

Rebellion Strikes (Part 1)

Steven butted in front of Alice so he could be next to me. "I hate confession," he said to me in an annoyed voice.

"I know what you mean," I answered dryly.

Steven was cute. Dirty blonde, curly hair and blue eyes are only a couple of his best features. I had never realized he even liked me until the Valentine's Day Dance when he had given me a box of the little hearts with phrases like "I love you" and "Be mine" written all over them. We had danced together and had a lot of fun that night. I liked him, but I only saw him at school or at school activities.

"Are you going rollerskating tomorrow night?"

"Yeah. You?" I whispered as Sister stared daggers at us.

Having noticed Sister was onto us, too, he nodded. Then he leaned in closer to me, so close I could feel him breathing on my neck. "Will you skate with me if I come?" I blushed, and I was suddenly glad that I was facing forward and he could not see.

"If I don't have to skate with my brother, yeah, sure." I said trying not to sound too interested.

"Good!" his voice perked up.

He stayed close behind me, but I didn't turn and look. I tried to keep my composure, even though I was distracted. I began to think about how I could talk Nan and Richie into letting me go skating alone for once. I loved Bobby, but I always had to skate with him. And, if that weren't bad enough, he would always make me fall! He was a horrible skater and spent more time on his bottom then up on his skates.

He never just fell either. He would wobble and kick his feet out until our skates would connect, sending the both of us flying. It was really embarrassing. I think it was entertainment for my family, though, because Richie's laughter could be heard clear across the gymnasium and above the music!

(To be continued...)

Adam and Eve

Being a stubborn child, I had to test everything. If you told me not to touch the electrical outlet, I would touch it anyway. What was knowledge without the experience? This would pour over into my entire life. This seemed to be the cause of my pain as well as my joy. Gems are most often found after looking under a lot of rocks. I don’t think grown-ups looked at it that way, though. My inquisitive nature was more of a thorn in their side than a blessing.

One day, during religion class, Miss Conrad read to us the story of Adam and Eve. Immediately afterward she asked us what we thought. My hand promptly shot into the air. She looked around the room like she was begging for someone else to put their hand up, but mine was the only one.

“Yes, Tammy?”

"I don’t think it’s true.”

“Well, of course, it is. It’s in the Bible. The Bible is the Word of God.”

Without pause, I replied, “No. Why would God, who is ALL-loving make ALL people for ALL time be punished because of two people’s mistakes? And it’s not like a really big mistake or anything. Eve shared an apple with Adam. Big deal! God wants us to share. You even said that!”

“Yes, God does want us to share. Adam and Eve had all the Garden of Eden to share, except for this one apple. God told them they were not allowed to eat that apple, and they disobeyed.”

I tried to process this and, just as my teacher thought it was safe to move on, I interjected, “What does God care about one dumb apple when they had the whole Garden of Eden?” My classmates laughed.

My teacher, knowing I had the potential to make this an all day discussion, threw in the towel. She asked us to pull out our math books. I raised my hand. She looked away so I waved it real big to get her attention. She turned her back to me. I yelled, “Miss Conrad. Miss Conrad.”

“What is it, Tammy?”

"We aren’t supposed to start math for ten more minutes and…”

“Today we will do things differently. Open your book to page one hundred forty-six, class.” I shrugged. I don’t get grown-ups. They do the strangest things, and they don’t like to answer questions either.

To Confess or Not to Confess (Part 2)

“I went on the boys’ side of the schoolyard so many times. I got caught on top of Joey pounding his face into the ground,” I rushed on, “and that would be it. Guess I’ll have to say five ‘Hail Mary’s’ this time, huh, Father?” I grinned. Father turned ever so slowly towards me. I swear he looked like the devil himself had possessed him.

“Just what would make you hit another human being?” he said angrily. My grin disappeared.

“He was calling me a baby and a sissy. I’m not no sissy so I showed him I wasn’t.” Father seemed like he was going to blow. He looked up towards the ceiling and then back at me.

“You will say a full rosary and tell Joey you are sorry for your penance.” I gulped. I didn’t dare argue about that, but I sure wanted to. He shooed me off with a few waves of his hand.

“Hhmmph!” I thought. “It was worth a rosary to put Joey in his place.” I glanced back worried that I may have said it out loud, but Father was gazing straight ahead, lost in his thoughts.

A thought came into my mind and I turned back, “Father?”

“Yes?”

“Why do I have to tell you my sins? Why can’t I just tell God directly? I mean, God sees and hears everything anyway so what’s the difference?” Father took a very deep breath.

“Because you are born with sin and thus not worthy to talk to God. This is why you confess through a priest.”

“Oh, then you pass it on?” He nodded yes.

“But aren’t we talking to God when we say our prayers?”

“Yes, but that is not the same.” I didn’t get that one, but I let it go. I chewed on this information for a few seconds while Father stared at me coldly. It gave me chills, and I thought about something else.

“Who do you tell when you sin?”

“I tell God or another priest.”

“If we’re all born into sin then what makes you so special?” I thought.

Apparently, Sister is a mind reader too because she dragged me out of church by my ear and called my Nan, who dragged me all the way home by my ear. I think it was red for an entire month! I must’ve been thinking out loud without even knowing it. Sometimes I do that.

To Confess or Not to Confess (Part 1)

It was not unusual for my questions to go unanswered. Frustration and headaches were common ailments in the people around me. My questions were usually the cause of their maladies. I would talk to anyone who would listen. Ah, who am I kidding…listening on their part was not really a requirement, I would talk anyway.

Another day at confession (we had to go like every month), I swore I saw Father Callahan purposely stall another child until Father O’Reilly was free. I didn’t like going to Fr. O’Reilly so much. He wasn’t very patient. He didn’t even seem to like kids.

I did everything I could to try to wait for Fr. Callahan to finish. I tied my laces twice, as slow as possible, hoping Sister would send Danny instead of me. I didn’t think she would keep Father waiting, but that wasn’t happening.

Sister’s shrill voice snapped through me like someone cracked a whip, “Enough, young lady! Father is waiting for you.” She pointed in Fr. O’Reilly’s direction. I took one last glance at Fr. Callahan, but he quickly looked away when my eyes met his. I approached the older priest examining his silver gray hair, his pale face, and bright red nose. If he had a white beard and moustache, he would’ve made a great Santa; that is, if he ever smiled.

His steady gaze never left the Altar. I sat down next to him, suddenly wishing I was in the line for the confessional (The thing that resembles the inside of two coffins upright and put together with a screen in the middle. Brrrr…gives me the willies. It was dark in the confessional, but at least I couldn’t see his grumpy face.)

“Good morning, Father.”

“Good morning.” he said in a dry manner.

“It’s been…” I thought for a moment, “a while since my last confession.” I noticed his eyes twitch.

“A while? What is a while?”

“Oh, since the last time, Sister dragged us over here.” I really had no editing abilities, whatever I thought shot right out of my mouth without a moments hesitation. Father gave me a not so nice look. I didn’t take it personally; everyone has bad days.

My plan was to unload all my sins as quickly as possible, throwing the really bad ones in the middle so maybe he wouldn’t notice so much. “I hid my brother’s cars on account of him taking my stuff one time. I told some tall tales, but Nan says that’s the same as lying.” Father didn’t even look like he was paying attention so I threw in a bigger one. “I fed my brother mud pies against his will. Well, first I just told him they were chocolate cupcakes, and he believed me!” I snorted. Then it dawned on me, “I guess, that’s, uh, lying too, huh?”

Father nodded without ever taking his eyes away from the front of the church. “Well, I only had to lie once because, as soon as I put it in his mouth, he knew they weren’t really pies. I had to force feed him the rest, but only cause I was still mad over my best doll that he ruined,” I puffed. Father didn’t budge. I looked at his chest to make sure it was still moving. It was. Hhhhmmm…maybe this was going to be easier than I thought. I breathed a sigh of relief and went on.

(to be continued...)

Confession 4 (final)

“But, Father, I still have more.”

“I think that can wait until next time.”

“Next time? But what if I get run over by a car? I won’t be cleansed of all my sins and I might….” I lowered my voice to a whisper, “Go to h-e- double l.” Father clutched his Bible.

I noticed his knuckles seemed very white, “You are not going to die between now and next week, Tammy.”

“Oh, yeah?” I exclaimed, “That’s a relief!”

I got two “Our Father’s” and three “Hail Mary’s." I wonder how he figures that out. As I knelt down in the pew and bent down my head to make it look like I was praying, I thought this over. Does he just pick a number out of his head? Or did God tell him that's what I had to do in order to be free of sin? Because saying a few prayers hardly seemed like a lot. A person could do a lot of sinning and come in and get them all forgiven. What's the point?

Feeling a presence beside me, I peeked out through my fingers. Great! Sister was kneeling beside me. You would think there were plenty of other kids to harass than only me. I sighed in resignation.

Confession 3 (continued)

“Tammy, you don’t go to Mass to sleep, you go to praise God. It is a sin to not go to church on Sunday!”

I stared at my feet as though they were the most amazing things upon this Earth. I was thinking Nan always says to be honest. It may work for her, but it always gets me in more trouble. I decided to move on before he could chastise me any more.

“I lied two times, but once was because my mom asked me if she looked fat in her blue dress, I didn’t want to hurt her feelings so I told her it didn’t.”

“And the other?”

“My dad asked me if I hid his beer. I said no.” He nodded and waited for me to begin again. “I talked in class…” I began to count my fingers again.

Father said, “You don’t remember?”

“No, but I can figure it out.” I think he was praying again, but I wasn’t sure why. Maybe it was to help me remember how many times.

“How about you just say ‘so many times’ when you can’t remember instead of a number.” I thought about that. It sure would be easier. I smiled.

“Anything else?”

“Well, I did hit my brother, but he deserved it. He marked up my favorite doll with black ink! My Nan couldn’t get it off.”

“What about forgiveness, Tammy?”

“I did forgive him, right after I punched his face in!” I balled up my fists to show him how.

Father must’ve been real tired because he shook his head and sighed pretty loud. “I think that’s enough for today.”

Confession (continued)

“I didn’t listen to my Nan…um…”

He waited. I thought about it. Ten sounded good. It wasn’t less, and surely it could not be that much more.

“…Ten times. I pulled my dog’s tail one time, but that was really only to get her back for biting me. Does that count?”

Father shook his head in the affirmative. “Continue.”

“I don’t think that should count. ‘An eye for an eye’, right, Father?”

“Jesus said you should turn the other cheek.”

“Oh, yeah…right. So they lied when they said ‘an eye for an eye’?”

“No, Tammy, that was the Old Testament. I think we should finish up. Sister is waiting.”

I glanced over in her direction. She looked back sternly. I shuttered and went on, “Oh.”

Then “Okay. Well, I climbed out my bedroom window to fly my kite, but I don’t think that should count. My dad already beat my behind for that one. I can prove it too. It’s still plum red!” I stood up to point at my backside, but Father quickly grabbed my arm and gently pulled me back down as Sister watched intently.

“Are you finished yet, child?”

"Well…goodness no!” My mind raced over all the things I still needed to confess, and I proceeded cautiously. “I didn’t go to church last Sunday…um…or the week before. I’m not sure about the week before that either…” Father didn’t look sure he should ask, but then he did.

“Why haven’t you been going to Mass?” I swallowed my gum that I had been hiding all morning!

“To be honest, Father, it really puts me to sleep. I figured I can do that in my own bed.” Was his face red? It sure did look it, but then the yellow lights seemed to shadow it.

Confession

“Father, how much sin is too much sin?”

I heard a sigh escape him, and I peered through my thick, ugly glasses at him. He shifted in his seat. A tall, thin younger man with jet-black hair and deep, dark eyes stared back at me. He cleared his voice.

“Tammy, this is a confession. It is not a time for questions.” He turned his eyes forward and clutched his hands together, preparing himself to hear my long list of indiscretions.

Not willing to let go just yet I squeaked, “Why not?”

A bigger, deeper breath gusts out from his pursed lips. “Why not what?”

“Why isn’t it the time for questions?”

Already exasperated he said with feigned patience, “Because, Tammy, we have others waiting in line. It would not be fair to them if we sat here and chit-chatted.”

Satisfied that I would understand this, he once again faced, or perhaps braced would be a better description, himself towards the altar. I had other things in mind. “But confessions are about sins. And I’m asking how much is too much?” I leaned forward in my pew so I could see his face better. He looked like he was praying. I waited, but he seemed quiet for an awfully long time. I wondered if he were okay.

“Father?” No answer. I poked his arm and said a little louder in a whining voice, “Faaaattthheeerr!”

Maybe that was too loud. My voice echoed all around me, bouncing off the large, stone cold walls. Muffled laughter came from the line of children in back of me. Sister gave them one of those “Be quiet or else” looks then turned to me with another familiar look, “Sit up straight and quit your whining.” Wow! She’s good! I sat straighter and slid back letting the wood shoulder of the pew touch mine.

Father looked startled but was quick with his decision. “Tammy, if I agree to come to your religion class one day this week, can we get on with your confession?” I thought about it, rubbing my fingers across my chin.

"Tomorrow?”

“Uh…well…I don’t know about tomorrow.”

I itched my nose and said, “Why? Do you have to think about it?” He picked up his Bible and sat it upon his lap, perhaps looking for inspiration.

“It may be tomorrow, but it may also be another day. I need to check Sister Ann’s schedule.” His voice was firm and taking on an impatient tone.

I shrugged, and then began. “Father, please forgive me for I have sinned. It’s been…um…” Oh no! I couldn’t remember how many days, but I didn’t dare say that. What should I do? I took a deep breath and did what any other kid would do who was backed into a corner…the ones that were smart anyway. I improvised.

“It’s been fifty days since my last confession.” I announced matter of factly. Father’s eyebrows shot upward. Glancing at me out of the corner of his eyes, he said, “Fifty?”

“Well, I don’t actually remember exactly, but fifty sounds good.” I saw a small grin try to come up on the corner of his lips, but he cleared his voice again and sat up straighter. I wondered if Sister Anne yelled at him for not sitting up straight too.

“Continue.” he said his voice sounding tired. I thought about how I should probably work my way up from the smaller to the bigger offenses so as not to put him to shock or anything.

(To Be Continued...)



*** Some names have been changed for privacy sake and to protect the innocent.

The Sacraments

Sacraments were Catholicism’s version of initiations. First, you were baptized as a baby because, if you weren’t, you had to go to purgatory, a kind of holding tank for all the Souls who didn’t meet the requirements at the golden gate into heaven which was, of course, guarded by Saint Peter. (Well, that is purely subjective because no one actually knew for sure, but that’s how all the jokes go.)

Some may wonder, if you aren’t familiar with this religion and even if you were, why a pure infant would not automatically pass into heaven? Good point. It was one I made several times to no avail. The answer I received, and the only one I can give you in their defense was an age-old culprit called “original sin.”

Baptism, according to these teachings, washed away this kind of sin, the rest was on you. To get rid of that sin, you had to make the Sacrament of Confession, also known as the Sacrament of Penance. Apparently, second grade was when you were no longer allowed to sin in ignorance. Now you would be held accountable unless you went and confessed these sins to a mediator, a priest who would listen to your stumbling blocks on your path to God and then absolve or forgive you for your sins.

As a punishment for these mishaps, you would have to say these prayers that he gave you immediately afterwards. I wonder what happened if you didn’t say those prayers. Did they take back the forgiveness they just gave you or what?

Hand in hand with the Sacrament of Penance was the Sacrament of Holy Communion. This is where you dressed up in fancy white dresses and veils, at least the girls did. The boys would look too silly in that get up so they wore white suits, at least they did then. Whoever thought of the idea of putting kids in white clothes must’ve never had any children, but that’s just my opinion. I digress.

Holy Communion was where you finally were allowed to stand in long lines to receive the body and blood of Christ. Who knew that was going to be a big hit? Surely, it wasn’t me. I’m still trying to figure out how they turned Christ’s body into those small, cardboard tasting wafers. And why is drinking blood bad for vampires but not for the rest of the church going world? These questions weren’t well taken by my teachers so I will have to get back to you on that.

About fifth grade, you were considered old enough to renew your baptismal vows, and this is known as the Sacrament of Confirmation. Confirming your vows, confirmation, get it? It took me a while to figure out that one too. All I knew then is that you got a longer name for your parents to scream out to let you know just how mad they were.

For instance, I picked Theresa after my aunt and Mother Theresa was my idol in those days. So, when I was in trouble, Tammy Marie Stone was okay. But if I were in really big trouble Tammy Marie Theresa Stone vibrated throughout the neighborhood. I’m sure that wasn’t its intended purpose, but you couldn’t tell our moms and dads that.

There are some other sacraments, but these are mostly the ones I will refer to along our journey together. These were the ones I had direct experience with so I couldn’t really tell you too much about the others.

Introduction

Grown-ups! I don’t get them. They do the strangest things, and they don’t like to answer questions either. They either dodge your questions altogether, or they answer them without really answering them. Catholic schoolteachers and priests weren’t any different in my experience.

The Sacrament of Penance or Confession was another thing that never made much sense to me. Actually, not too much of the Catholic religion did. (This, of course, is my own personal feelings; and not meant to be a put-down on Catholicism. Each path has its place. It just didn’t happen to be mine.)

I struggled with this quite a bit growing up. A voice always whispered, “This isn’t right. It isn’t like that at all.” I’m still not exactly sure who the Voice was, but it got me into lots of mischief. Some may say this voice was my conscience, a departed loved one, or maybe even a guardian angel. Maybe it was, maybe it wasn’t. Perhaps it doesn’t really matter who it was as much as what it was saying to me, and the experiences that resulted from the deep questions that flooded my mind and my heart on any given day.

I would like to share those experiences with you. Some you may relate to, and maybe some you won’t. Perhaps, you came away with treasures from your own childhood religion, and this is not meant to make light of them in any way. This is simply one little girl’s views and opinions of life, religion, and love.

Readers beware: Must have a sense of humor!