The Birth of My Youthful Idealism
Long before my Awakening at the age of twelve, I had my first encounter with some strange people who came to teach us (Catholic children of our rural parish) the basics of what we were to believe as Christians. These creatures were called “Sisters.”
My first encounter with them was scary. They surely didn’t look like any of my sisters, especially my sister, Lil, who took me to church to attend my first class with them. This interesting-looking being, dressed in the most peculiar clothing, approached me as I stood there tightly grasping my sister’s hand. After getting my gaping mouth back in place, I looked within the flowing black attire. Sure enough, the face and hands of a human emerged!
The face was framed in a kind of white bonnet that was pinned together, several inches below the chin. It reminded me of the beard of a Billy goat. This box-like bonnet was covered with a long black veil. A huge wooden Rosary was draped from her belt at the waist and extended to the hem of her black, floor-length skirt. I had never seen anything like this before. Yet, her warm smile told me she was friendly and her gentle voice assured me she meant me no harm. Since this happened in the early 30’s, I had never heard of aliens from outer space. I searched my mind for some appropriate category in which I could place her. The only thing I could come up with was, “She must be an angel.”
She escorted me to a seat in a front pew of the church. This was the place for the little ones. The older children were seated in the rear of the church. This mysterious “Sister” began her lessons. She told us about this person named "God." Since I had been introduced to Him long before by my mother, I began to relax and listen carefully to her words: "God is everywhere, but you can't see Him. He can do all things. He can see all things. There is no place you can go where He can't find you. He loves every one of you. He has a special plan for each of you that is meant to bring you great happiness and joy."
Religion class swiftly became my favorite part of every summer. I was drawn to want to hear all that I could about God. As I learned more each year, the warm loving stories about God continued and with them came a strong effort to give us the knowledge of what it took to be a good Christian.
I absorbed the teachings as only a young person might. I came to understand from these nuns, that God was dealt with much like a person who worked a job. The more someone worked, the more money he/she made. Likewise, the more I did for God, the more the graces were poured from the heavenly portals into my soul. The more grace I had, the better off I would be. I began to wonder if God really needed my prayers and good deeds. There were contradictions that stirred up my mind and my questions. Most of the time the nuns answered my questions with the same answer, “It’s a mystery, just believe it.” For the most part I took everything they taught as God’s truth.
The nuns had told me that God was Almighty, all-powerful. Why did He need my “Hail Mary’s” and “Our Father’s” if He was that powerful? I thought that maybe God knew I needed them but He did not.
I learned more about heaven, a beautiful place where I would be with God forever. Then there was hell, the fiery home of the devils. This was the place to avoid. It didn't take too much smarts to realize that the thing to do was work your life out so that you would end up in heaven and not in the terrors of hell.
The minimum requirements for getting to heaven weren't too bad. You were asked to go to Mass every Sunday and on Holy Days. Confession and Communion were required once a year during the Easter season, if you had committed the dreaded thing, “mortal sin”. These things were supposed to get you there.
From observing my mother, I began to think differently about obeying God. I wanted to obey but mother taught me to abide in God’s love as well. Obeying without any attempt to abide might have been a good thing, but I began to see that it was very limiting. In abiding, keeping conscious of His love, I began to experience the depth of that love for me. My relationship with God became very important.
While the nuns were in our parish for summer school classes, I usually looked forward to those days. However, one of those days turned out to be anything but happy for me.
I had hidden my only pair of shoes in the hope that Mom would buy me a new pair. When mother said she had no money for new shoes, I went to find the old ones so that I could go to church for class. Unfortunately, I could not remember where I had concealed them. Mother told me she was sorry about that but she insisted that I attend class even if it meant going there barefoot. This was a real test of my obedience.
Rather that go into the church without shoes, I tried to camouflage myself behind some bushes near the church. The priest’s housekeeper had seen me slip into my hiding place. She ordered me to join the rest of the class. My teacher, Sister Mary Sevrin, helped me feel at ease by telling the rest of the class and me that Jesus often went barefoot. Later that evening, my sister, Lil, helped me find my shoes so that I didn’t have to face another day of going to church barefoot.
By this time I was about ready for third grade, which brought another round of the "Baltimore Catechism." Understanding the faith wasn't the problem. Living it was, but I was beginning to realize that my faith was an ever-growing reality. I knew what I was supposed to be, a child of God. I did not always act that way. I didn’t always like to admit my sins to anyone but it was especially hard to confess to a priest. Guilty thoughts plagued me. “What will he think of me?” “How can I make this sound a little better than it really is?”
I recall one of my early confessions. The priest opened that little window with its thick white curtain hung there to conceal the identity of the one confessing. After the usual ritual start, “Bless me Father, for I have sinned,” I bravely began to rattle off the rather long and detailed list of sins that I had committed since my last confession. When I said, “I didn’t tell the truth, three times,” Father stopped me.
He asked in a puzzled tone, “What did you say?”
I timidly replied, “I didn’t tell the truth, ...three times!”
Again, more forcefully and loudly, pretending he couldn’t hear, the priest demanded, “Whaaaaat?”
By this time, I was thoroughly ashamed of my attempt to skirt around an open admission of my sin and I blurted out, “I told a lie, three times!”
He very calmly and quietly answered, “That’s better, Grace!”
And I had thought that, at least, there was some anonymity to my “humble” confession. Not so in this case.
The priest then advised me to admit this sin to whomever I had lied. He was trying to teach me that I must not just seek forgiveness from God but that it also involved reconciling with the other members of His Body. Then Father assured me that my sins were forgiven and he sent me off with the comforting words, “Go in peace and sin no more.”
And I did feel at peace with myself and with God. I knelt to say my penance and I thought of Peter who had denied Jesus three times.
I recalled that on the night of the Resurrection itself, the apostles were gathered together in that upper room. They too had been frightened and disturbed and they were worried, not just because of the Jews who might come, but because they did not know how they stood with Christ. They had abandoned Him when He most needed them. When He was seized in the garden, they fled. How did Christ regard these friends who had failed Him?
I could imagine that as the disciples sat talking about these things in that upper room, Christ suddenly was right there with them. There were no words of blame or accusation. Christ simply said, “Peace be to you.”
Over the years, as my faith increased little by little, I slowly began to realize that Jesus always wants joy and peace for all His people. He came to bring us the assurance that He had saved us, once and for all. He wants us to live in peace with ourselves and with one another. We were not to worry about being saved, trying to atone for our sins and taking on jobs that only God can do. He had already saved us. He atoned in full for all our sins, past, present and future. Instead, I came to understand that my only task was to live out my Baptismal commitment to be a witness of His all-embracing love. That is what is meant by the Scripture passage that told me to “work out my salvation.” Jesus was telling me in no uncertain terms, “You are saved now go live like a saved person lives, in joy, love and peace.
I had learned from this confession to admit honestly when I failed to be that kind of witness. This sacrament was the means that Christ chooses as a gift of constant purification enabling us to be self-giving as He was when He lived among us. And so my faith continued to grow, but there were still plenty of misconceptions of what Christ’s “Good News” truly meant.
These strange “angels” that came each summer to teach would have a great influence on my life. I was drawn to them. They were the embodiment of my idealistic dreams.
Next episode: Enticed and Captivated
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