Growing up in Saginaw we attended a fairly large Catholic church. There was an 8am Sunday service, 10am Sunday service and a noon Sunday service. There was also a Saturday evening service too but we rarely attended that service. Mostly we attended the noon service. We never really did see the same people twice, it was that big. The shape of St. Thomas Aquinas reminded of a Trivial Pursuit pie piece. You walked in the wide end of the pie and the priest would give his sermons near the point of the pie. We mostly sat near the left side towards the back, depending how late we were arriving to the service. My mom enjoyed attending but for the three of her children that was another story.
Waking up Sunday morning we would drag our feet. Marc and I would be watching a Sunday movie on TV. Usually it was something with Jerry Lewis or Don Knotts in The Incredible Mr. Limpet. Lisa would try to sleep in as much as possible claiming a bad headache when mom did try to wake her. Sometimes it worked and sometimes it didn't. If mom got a phone call we would be real quiet trying not to disturb her so she would loose track of time and talk her way through the time of getting ready. We knew if she was on the phone by 11:30 we were in the free and clear of not going to church. Marc and I would watch the huge wood and bronze colored star shaped clock above the TV and smile at each other when we realized the hands were pointing at 11:30 or later. We sighed a relief and continued watching the movie with ease. When mom finally did get off the phone and realized the time then she would give a huge sigh in disappointment. Another failed attempt at church.
Most of the time we did end up making it to church. It wasn't that we didn't love God. It was more of the service being the longest hour of our lives. It dragged on and on. We could tell what time it was from what action was being performed at church. When the priest started to perform the Eucharist we knew the church was half way over. We passed the time counting the unique brick structure that stood on each side of the alter, or counting how many people wore red or blue or black. When we became bored at counting my sister, brother and I would turn our attention to each other for entertainment. We would sit playing thumb wars with each other mouthing, "One. Two. Three. Four. I declare thumb war." We would made shadow puppets with each other or we would give each other Indian burns. That is where you put both hands on a person's arm between their wrist and elbow and twist in opposite directions really hard.
This one particular Sunday we were sitting on the right side of church near the middle. We were young. I was probably in kindergarten or first grade. My siblings and I were not on our best behaviors and mom's patience's were wearing thin. She bends over to us children and growls, "If one of you makes another peep I am taking you to the bathroom." Going to the bathroom with mom only meant one thing....a spanking.
The three of us stare forward trying to count whatever so we wouldn't get a spanking. Marc, who was standing next to me, lifts up his foot and stomps right on my foot. The hard bottoms of his shoes twists on my open skin from the sandals I was wearing. It hurt! I shouted out a yelp. In a microsecond my mom grabs my upper arm and hauls me out of the church, into the lobby and over to the bathroom. I was spanked....hard.
I cried. I couldn't tell if I was crying because of the spanking or because of the injustice of the reason I was spanked. I didn't do anything wrong. I was just standing there being good when Marc stomped on my foot. Did he get punished? Nooooo. It was easy to blame me since I was the one who let out a noise. We return to our seats. I was now sitting on the other side of mom, away from my siblings. I bend over to look at them. They were both snickering that I was punished unfairly. Needless to say I wasn't happy with them.
We all jump to conclusions in life. It can be easy to do. This situation helped me realize to obtain all the facts when dealing with an issue. Now that I have children I watch to make sure I don't do the same mistake and punish unfairly. I am far from perfect and I am sure I have unknowingly done just that at times. But at least I am aware of trying not to do jump to conclusions so quickly.
Showing posts with label St. Thomas Aquinas. Show all posts
Showing posts with label St. Thomas Aquinas. Show all posts
Tuesday, September 24, 2013
Tuesday, February 12, 2013
Sacrament of Reconciliation (Penance)
In the Catholic faith there are 7 Sacraments. Baptism, Eucharist, Reconciliation, Confirmation, Marriage, Holy Orders, and Anointing of the Sick. These sacraments are special occasions for experiencing God's grace and presence. At this time in my life I had already received the Sacrament of Baptism after birth and the Sacrament of Eucharist while I was in the second grade (May 5, 2012 blog The First Communion-cute pics). Now I was in the fourth grade. This was the year we received the Sacrament of Reconciliation at St. Thomas Aquinas.
This was not an easy sacrament to accomplish. With Baptism we were babies and we just had to look cute and adorable. With the Sacrament of Eucharist it was learning about the last supper and remembering that Christ gave his body to die on the cross to save us from our sins. Now with the Sacrament of Reconciliation we had to tell the priest our sins. That is hard for anyone to do, especially a 10 year old.
In preparation for this day we learned about different sins and the laws of God, mostly we studied the 10 commandments. Some of these laws seemed far-fetched for us. DO NOT COMMIT ADULTRY! We were in the fourth grade. We were not even thinking about sex at that age. We all felt safe for not breaking that law. DO NOT COVENT THY NEIGHBOR'S WIFE OR OXEN! Again, we are children. We don't want our neighbor's wife or any other wife and my neighbor didn't have any oxen or donkeys or any other pets that I wanted. Sidenote: I do know as an adult there is a more meaning to this but as a child statements were taken at face value. REMEMBER THE SABBATH! It's Sunday. Whew! I remembered what day it was. There is another one I don't have to worry about breaking. YOU SHALL NOT MAKE FOR YOURSELF AN IDOL! No one was walking around with a golden calf under their arm so we didn't have to worry about that commandment either. What sins do we break? In our eyes we are perfect and sinless.
In Mrs. Dickinson's classroom we rehearsed what Penance was going to be like. A priest would sit in a chair in a corner of the church or in a special room behind the alter and we would sit in a chair next to him. It wasn't a closed closet that you see in the movies. This was going to be face to face. I had to start the conversation off by saying, "Good Morning Father. This is my first confession (or it has been yada yada months or years since my last confession)." Then I start spilling the beans on my sins. The priest would do his part and I would go back to my seat, reflect and pray the rosary.
The priests were wonderful men. Father Brendan, Father Pat, Father Jim, and a priest who had a collie style dog. Father Brendan and Father Pat were close to our family in couseling my mother during her divorce and being there for my grandparents during their sickness of cancer and eventually giving them Anointing of the Sick before they passed away. Now I have to go in front of one of them and tell them how bad I have been. They have been so supportive in my family and I have to tell them my sins in order to be forgiven?! I was hating the day for my Sacrament of Reconciliation.
It was on a Wednesday. Grades 4th, 5th, and 6th grades walked across the parking lot from the school to the church in the morning to attend service. First, second and third grade went to church on Thursdays and 7th and 8th grades went on Friday. We walked in and you can see a pair of chairs set up in different areas of the church. Mass started as usual. Then all the priests gathered up on the alter and told us where they each would be sitting and we could pick who we would like to see. They walked down the aisles, their long robes fluttering behind them as they walked. Peaceful instrumental music played in the background with some kind of scenery picture displayed up on the large screen behind the alter. A few kids got up and walked over to the priests. Some waited a few pews away to be the next person to tell their sins to the priest. I remember the church being dark and cold. I did not want to be there. I was debating madly at which priest I would pick to tell my darkest sins to; which priest that would look forever at me with disappointment for not being a perfect child. I just wanted it done and over with.
I finally got the ambition to head to a priest. I picked the one with the dog. Father Ed I am thinking was his name but I am not really sure. I didn't want the other priests, who were closer to my family, to know my sins. I was ashamed of them. I sat there on the dark wood pew waiting for a classmate to get done. As each child finished up everyone looked at them in awe. They made it out alive. They are still walking. They don't have to worry about talking to the priest anymore, ran through my thoughts. My attention would resume back to me. What to say. What to say. What to say. I would think as I kicked my little legs back and forth waiting my turn. Deep down inside I hoped the person in front would take up all the time and the priests would just say enough and service is over and to go back to school. It never happened. Then it was my turn.
I got up and slowly walked to Father Ed. I never made eye contact with him. I didn't want him to remember me or my sins. I just wanted to be another blank nameless face out in the crowd. Sitting there in the chair it reminded me of someone getting their hair done at the beauty salon by the way his robe hung down around him loosely and his black trousers with black shoes sticking out from the bottom of the robe. FOCUS! I had to focus! I remembered where I was and began to speak. I just opened my mouth and let the words flood out.
" Fighting with my brother and sister,"
Everyone says that. My mind started to talk to me, Can't you think of anything orginial?
"Not obeying my mom,"
Good. Good. Keep going. You have only been here a short time. You need more sins to tell, my brain would continue to speak to me.
"Forgetting homework assignments. Not doing good on tests."
I would think of my classmates. How can they be with the priest for so long! Are they that horrible of a person. I need more sins to think of.
"I swear sometimes. I stole some candy when I was little and I have lied."
Good with the lying and stealing. Those were in the commandments, my brain would appease my words.
"And that is it." I would end the confession of my sins.
Father Ed gave me a small pep talk on how to live a good life by obeying God's laws. He instructed me to go back to my seat and say the rosary a few times and that my sins will be forgiven. He sounded like a cashier at a check-out line in the grocery store. I try to think of some sins that I have commited and all I get is my total being a few rosary's and have a good day?! I was dismayed by it all. I have to do this twice a year?! I better start sinning more so I have something to tell the priest! I would think to myself.
Moving on to my junior high school years I started to really question why I needed the priest to forgive me of my sins. This has nothing to do with Catholicism but my own personal walk with the Lord. Why can't I just tell Jesus my sins? Why do I have to go through a priest to be forgiven? I started questioning other things in my faith and I started to take a step back and look for answers elsewhere which led me down a hard path in life.
Eighth grade came and it was time to start preparing me for the Sacrament of Confirmation. I told my mother no. It was a difficult decision to make because everyone around me has made that sacrament. My classmates were making it, my brother and sister have made it and it was my turn to make it. But I did decline. I stopped practicing Catholism then. It was not easy going against the grain of my family on the Catholic faith which has been embedded in our family for generations. My mother, sister and brother still practice the Catholic faith and attend mass and uphold its traditions. And that is all good. We have learned to respect and accept each other's differences.
This was not an easy sacrament to accomplish. With Baptism we were babies and we just had to look cute and adorable. With the Sacrament of Eucharist it was learning about the last supper and remembering that Christ gave his body to die on the cross to save us from our sins. Now with the Sacrament of Reconciliation we had to tell the priest our sins. That is hard for anyone to do, especially a 10 year old.
In preparation for this day we learned about different sins and the laws of God, mostly we studied the 10 commandments. Some of these laws seemed far-fetched for us. DO NOT COMMIT ADULTRY! We were in the fourth grade. We were not even thinking about sex at that age. We all felt safe for not breaking that law. DO NOT COVENT THY NEIGHBOR'S WIFE OR OXEN! Again, we are children. We don't want our neighbor's wife or any other wife and my neighbor didn't have any oxen or donkeys or any other pets that I wanted. Sidenote: I do know as an adult there is a more meaning to this but as a child statements were taken at face value. REMEMBER THE SABBATH! It's Sunday. Whew! I remembered what day it was. There is another one I don't have to worry about breaking. YOU SHALL NOT MAKE FOR YOURSELF AN IDOL! No one was walking around with a golden calf under their arm so we didn't have to worry about that commandment either. What sins do we break? In our eyes we are perfect and sinless.
In Mrs. Dickinson's classroom we rehearsed what Penance was going to be like. A priest would sit in a chair in a corner of the church or in a special room behind the alter and we would sit in a chair next to him. It wasn't a closed closet that you see in the movies. This was going to be face to face. I had to start the conversation off by saying, "Good Morning Father. This is my first confession (or it has been yada yada months or years since my last confession)." Then I start spilling the beans on my sins. The priest would do his part and I would go back to my seat, reflect and pray the rosary.
The priests were wonderful men. Father Brendan, Father Pat, Father Jim, and a priest who had a collie style dog. Father Brendan and Father Pat were close to our family in couseling my mother during her divorce and being there for my grandparents during their sickness of cancer and eventually giving them Anointing of the Sick before they passed away. Now I have to go in front of one of them and tell them how bad I have been. They have been so supportive in my family and I have to tell them my sins in order to be forgiven?! I was hating the day for my Sacrament of Reconciliation.
It was on a Wednesday. Grades 4th, 5th, and 6th grades walked across the parking lot from the school to the church in the morning to attend service. First, second and third grade went to church on Thursdays and 7th and 8th grades went on Friday. We walked in and you can see a pair of chairs set up in different areas of the church. Mass started as usual. Then all the priests gathered up on the alter and told us where they each would be sitting and we could pick who we would like to see. They walked down the aisles, their long robes fluttering behind them as they walked. Peaceful instrumental music played in the background with some kind of scenery picture displayed up on the large screen behind the alter. A few kids got up and walked over to the priests. Some waited a few pews away to be the next person to tell their sins to the priest. I remember the church being dark and cold. I did not want to be there. I was debating madly at which priest I would pick to tell my darkest sins to; which priest that would look forever at me with disappointment for not being a perfect child. I just wanted it done and over with.
I finally got the ambition to head to a priest. I picked the one with the dog. Father Ed I am thinking was his name but I am not really sure. I didn't want the other priests, who were closer to my family, to know my sins. I was ashamed of them. I sat there on the dark wood pew waiting for a classmate to get done. As each child finished up everyone looked at them in awe. They made it out alive. They are still walking. They don't have to worry about talking to the priest anymore, ran through my thoughts. My attention would resume back to me. What to say. What to say. What to say. I would think as I kicked my little legs back and forth waiting my turn. Deep down inside I hoped the person in front would take up all the time and the priests would just say enough and service is over and to go back to school. It never happened. Then it was my turn.
I got up and slowly walked to Father Ed. I never made eye contact with him. I didn't want him to remember me or my sins. I just wanted to be another blank nameless face out in the crowd. Sitting there in the chair it reminded me of someone getting their hair done at the beauty salon by the way his robe hung down around him loosely and his black trousers with black shoes sticking out from the bottom of the robe. FOCUS! I had to focus! I remembered where I was and began to speak. I just opened my mouth and let the words flood out.
" Fighting with my brother and sister,"
Everyone says that. My mind started to talk to me, Can't you think of anything orginial?
"Not obeying my mom,"
Good. Good. Keep going. You have only been here a short time. You need more sins to tell, my brain would continue to speak to me.
"Forgetting homework assignments. Not doing good on tests."
I would think of my classmates. How can they be with the priest for so long! Are they that horrible of a person. I need more sins to think of.
"I swear sometimes. I stole some candy when I was little and I have lied."
Good with the lying and stealing. Those were in the commandments, my brain would appease my words.
"And that is it." I would end the confession of my sins.
Father Ed gave me a small pep talk on how to live a good life by obeying God's laws. He instructed me to go back to my seat and say the rosary a few times and that my sins will be forgiven. He sounded like a cashier at a check-out line in the grocery store. I try to think of some sins that I have commited and all I get is my total being a few rosary's and have a good day?! I was dismayed by it all. I have to do this twice a year?! I better start sinning more so I have something to tell the priest! I would think to myself.
Moving on to my junior high school years I started to really question why I needed the priest to forgive me of my sins. This has nothing to do with Catholicism but my own personal walk with the Lord. Why can't I just tell Jesus my sins? Why do I have to go through a priest to be forgiven? I started questioning other things in my faith and I started to take a step back and look for answers elsewhere which led me down a hard path in life.
Eighth grade came and it was time to start preparing me for the Sacrament of Confirmation. I told my mother no. It was a difficult decision to make because everyone around me has made that sacrament. My classmates were making it, my brother and sister have made it and it was my turn to make it. But I did decline. I stopped practicing Catholism then. It was not easy going against the grain of my family on the Catholic faith which has been embedded in our family for generations. My mother, sister and brother still practice the Catholic faith and attend mass and uphold its traditions. And that is all good. We have learned to respect and accept each other's differences.
Tuesday, May 8, 2012
The First Communion
One of the sacraments that a person growing up in the Catholic faith looks forward to is the First Communion. While attending mass services as a young child I remember seeing lines of older people and some older youths swaying slowly side to side, penguin-style towards the front to receive the Eucharist. Those waiting in line and those returning to their seats join in singing to the song that was projected onto the front screen at the front of the church. I couldn't wait until it was my turn to join in on this procession.
Second grade at St. Thomas Aquinas was the time we started to train for our sacrament of the First Communion. It was a right of passage. No longer during our Thursday church service did we sit and watch the third graders go up and receive the body and blood of Christ but we were about to join them in doing so. This somehow made us older, more responsible young children. We could do something that first graders and under couldn't do. It was a feeling of a secret club that only those who receive the sacrement could share in on. We all anxiously awaited for our Sunday to receive this sacrament.
Mrs. Stingline was our teacher and the other second grade teacher was Sister Angelisha. Mrs. Stingline was an older teacher but still was wonderful with children. She would stand up in front of the class with a roll of the host and show us how to hold our hands, one on top of the other with palms facing up. "This is the body of Christ" which she instrusted us to reply by saying, "Amen".
The role the bread was in reminded you of a package of Ritz Crackers in its package. We were informed to place it whole in our mouths and not take bites from it. She said that at first it wasn't a taste we would like at first but after a while we would get used to it. One classmate made a yuck face when it was his turn to take the host. Mrs. Stingline scolded him saying it was very disrespectful to do so to the body of Christ and he would have to straighen up his look if he wanted to have his First Communion. Those after him knew to hide their distasteful looks.
Then it was my turn to line up and fold my hands the proper way and wait for the line to which I was ready to say Amen. Mrs. Stingline placed the host in my hands. I looked at the waffer and thought it looked big and I would probaby choke on it. I placed it in my mouth and to my suprise it all fit. It stuck between my tongue and the roof of my mouth. It was like I was tasting styrofoam. I made the sign of the cross and quietly walked myself back to my seat. It wasn't the best moment of my life but if this is what needs to be done then it needs to be done.
Next we lined up and learned about the blood of Christ or the wine. While in training we use grape juice. She said if we weren't comfortable receiving the blood of Christ we could pass but only after the First Communion. At our church we were told that we shared a cup which the rim was wiped with a cloth after each sip. Mrs. Stingline would tell us, "This is the blood of Christ" and we replied, "Amen" and take a small sip. I think we were all thinking the same thing - I hope no one backwashes!
We all couldn't take our sacrament at the same time. It was done all throughout the spring Sundays in church. Our parents and teachers arranged the dates in which our teacher displayed it proudly in the classroom. On Thursday service after someone received their First Communion those students would rise up when the usher okayed that row of seats to go forth to receive the body and blood of Christ. They were excited to join in on the older peers leaving the rest of us envious in our seats.
Finally it was my turn. April 21, 1985. My friend Melissa was joining in with me to receive this sacrament. I had a white frilly dress with a real daisy corsage and headpiece. My mom done up hair up in curlers which I know I must of fought her on as I hated having my hair done up. I had a small white purse to hold a small first communion pockt book and the order of mass. My friend Melissa, a few others, and I had reserved seating in the front row. The priest called us up to the front steps for us to kneel on as he prayed over us. Then he personally gave each one of us Eucharist with real wine. It was done. We now are able to receive communion in church. We instantly felt older. Afterwards we celebrated by going out to eat either at the Howard Johnson resturant or the Texan. We returned home and celebrated some more with some presents. The following Thursday at school during church it was my turn to stand up and walk slowly to the front to receive the bread and wine. And proudly I did go.
As an adult I now understand what communion really means. It means that Christ gave himself up for our sins. He is the Livng Bread in which we shall never go hungry again. The word of the Lord shall dwell in us forever.
Second grade at St. Thomas Aquinas was the time we started to train for our sacrament of the First Communion. It was a right of passage. No longer during our Thursday church service did we sit and watch the third graders go up and receive the body and blood of Christ but we were about to join them in doing so. This somehow made us older, more responsible young children. We could do something that first graders and under couldn't do. It was a feeling of a secret club that only those who receive the sacrement could share in on. We all anxiously awaited for our Sunday to receive this sacrament.
Mrs. Stingline was our teacher and the other second grade teacher was Sister Angelisha. Mrs. Stingline was an older teacher but still was wonderful with children. She would stand up in front of the class with a roll of the host and show us how to hold our hands, one on top of the other with palms facing up. "This is the body of Christ" which she instrusted us to reply by saying, "Amen".
The role the bread was in reminded you of a package of Ritz Crackers in its package. We were informed to place it whole in our mouths and not take bites from it. She said that at first it wasn't a taste we would like at first but after a while we would get used to it. One classmate made a yuck face when it was his turn to take the host. Mrs. Stingline scolded him saying it was very disrespectful to do so to the body of Christ and he would have to straighen up his look if he wanted to have his First Communion. Those after him knew to hide their distasteful looks.
Then it was my turn to line up and fold my hands the proper way and wait for the line to which I was ready to say Amen. Mrs. Stingline placed the host in my hands. I looked at the waffer and thought it looked big and I would probaby choke on it. I placed it in my mouth and to my suprise it all fit. It stuck between my tongue and the roof of my mouth. It was like I was tasting styrofoam. I made the sign of the cross and quietly walked myself back to my seat. It wasn't the best moment of my life but if this is what needs to be done then it needs to be done.
Next we lined up and learned about the blood of Christ or the wine. While in training we use grape juice. She said if we weren't comfortable receiving the blood of Christ we could pass but only after the First Communion. At our church we were told that we shared a cup which the rim was wiped with a cloth after each sip. Mrs. Stingline would tell us, "This is the blood of Christ" and we replied, "Amen" and take a small sip. I think we were all thinking the same thing - I hope no one backwashes!
We all couldn't take our sacrament at the same time. It was done all throughout the spring Sundays in church. Our parents and teachers arranged the dates in which our teacher displayed it proudly in the classroom. On Thursday service after someone received their First Communion those students would rise up when the usher okayed that row of seats to go forth to receive the body and blood of Christ. They were excited to join in on the older peers leaving the rest of us envious in our seats.
Finally it was my turn. April 21, 1985. My friend Melissa was joining in with me to receive this sacrament. I had a white frilly dress with a real daisy corsage and headpiece. My mom done up hair up in curlers which I know I must of fought her on as I hated having my hair done up. I had a small white purse to hold a small first communion pockt book and the order of mass. My friend Melissa, a few others, and I had reserved seating in the front row. The priest called us up to the front steps for us to kneel on as he prayed over us. Then he personally gave each one of us Eucharist with real wine. It was done. We now are able to receive communion in church. We instantly felt older. Afterwards we celebrated by going out to eat either at the Howard Johnson resturant or the Texan. We returned home and celebrated some more with some presents. The following Thursday at school during church it was my turn to stand up and walk slowly to the front to receive the bread and wine. And proudly I did go.
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| I (age 8) standing in front of St. Thomas Aquinas Church in Saginaw, Mi. |
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| L to R: My sister Lisa, my mom, my brother Marc and me. |
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| My good friend Melissa and I. |
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| L to R: Nonnie (my grandmother), my grandpa and me. |
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| I was looking at the Children's Catholic Bible which I still have and treasure. |
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| A Bible Book I received for my First Communion |
I take for granted the training I had to receive eucharist. We now attend a Baptist church and we don't have a ceremony for the First Communion. Children go to Sunday school up until third grade then they stay with the family during church after that. On the first Sunday of the month the church does communion. I recently had our son with us during this time. I didn't realize I didn't prepare him for what to expect. Instead of walking up to the front of the church to receive a waffer we sat in our seats while a platter of chicklet size bread is passed around. I motion for James to take one. I looks up at me confused. I told him to just hold it and listen to the pastor. The pastor tells us how Jesus wanted us to remember Him by the last supper and that this was Jesus' body and to eat in rememberance of Him. Then we ate the bread. James' eyes grew really wide. James is the type of boy who takes things literally. "This is Jesus' body?" he asked me nervously. He ate it but wanted to spit it out. I told him he had to swallow it quickly.
I couldn't help but chuckle. I explained that it was in memory of and it really wasn't Christ's body. Then the small cups of juice was passed around. James was telling me how tiny these cups are. "Is this to wash down the bread?" he asks. When the pastor explained about the blood Christ I couldn't help but snicker. I knew James was going to question that. Sure enough James looked at me with a worried look. I told him it was really juice but we are to remember how Christ sacrificed himself for our sins. He quickly drank up the juice. "Yum!" he declares, "Can I have seconds?" I quickly shushed up James and prayed real hard to Jesus to help hold in my laughter during service.
As an adult I now understand what communion really means. It means that Christ gave himself up for our sins. He is the Livng Bread in which we shall never go hungry again. The word of the Lord shall dwell in us forever.
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