CONFIRMATION

Autumn in New Jersey can be sweet. The air gets brisk and the leaves from the deciduous trees start to turn the kaleidoscope of ambers, beiges and reds. The evening skies are splattered with wispy white clouds that stretch over the horizon. It looks and feels awesome especially after a hot and humid summer. It is unfortunate that the spirit of the season is not appreciated b y sixth graders going back to school. No we are concerned and consumed at attending junior high school. We are not the revered “big kids” anymore. No, we are the little punks that don’t know our way around. We’ve never had lockers with locks before and we are paranoid we’ll forget the combination. We lose sleep at night just thinking about how stupid we’ll look standing in front of our lockers mumbling trying desperately to remember the sequence of numbers. We’ve never had to change rooms for each subject either. How do you get to know all your teachers and rooms? You don’t even get a desk of your own. You just borrow one in the class you’re attending. And there are rumors you have to get naked and take showers after gym class. My older sister told me that there’s homework every night! No, with all this anxiety sixth graders are not impressed with autumns’ glory.

Starting the sixth grade really sucks after a summer of swimming, playing ball and just hanging out. It is so abrupt! They don’t even let a guy ease into it. We started back on a Wednesday this year. Wednesdays really suck because all us Catholics have to go to catechism class right after school so your first day is a total bust. I didn’t like most of my classes. I seemed to be in the advanced group and most of my buddies were not. Why the hell was I in the advanced classes? I certainly wasn’t a star in the fifth grade. It must be some mistake! They will probably change me in a week or so when they find out I’m just regular. There were also a lot of new kids that weren’t in my grammar school. I was actually happy walking into catechism class because my buds, Gary and James were there. I remember the noise level being extremely loud as everyone was jabbering about how they liked or didn’t like their first day in the sixth grade and summer stuff too. Gary, James and I were shooting the breeze big time when in walked sister Leonard. Sister Leonard was the epitome of a penguin… her habit was so low on her forehead that you couldn’t see eyebrows. It was so tight to her cheekbones you couldn’t see ears. There was a rumor that she shaved her head and eyebrows. The mental picture of this bald nun with no eyebrows was scary. She had little wire rim glassed like John Lennon way before anyone knew of John Lennon. I don’t know why Sister Leonard became a penguin but I suspected she was too strict to be a teacher. Bats do not have radar as finely tuned or powerful as sister Leonard. As she first entered the crowded classroom just full of chattering Christians she immediately singled out Gary, James and I and separated our seats as if we were the instigators of all the commotion. I sometimes wonder if she wasn’t warned by previous penguins or if she really was able to detect devilment. I was fortunate to land the seat directly in front of her desk. This was particularly unlucky in the sixth grade as this is the year we began to study for confirmation. Confirmation is a catholic sacrament invented primarily to teach young adults the commandments and Christian philosophy. There are volumes of books with questions and answers like, “Why did God make you?” The answer being, “God made us to show his love for us and to make us happy with him in Heaven.” Forty years later I can remember the answer like it was yesterday as Sister Leonard drilled it into my mind and soul. I suspect the reason penguins were so infatuated in making sure we learned all the material necessary to be confirmed as it was a reflection or a report card on their accomplishments to the Bishop. You see, the High Bishop performs the confirmation ceremony, and the bishop ranks just behind the Cardinals and the Pontiff who reports directly to our lord Jesus Christ. I think it helps understanding the hierarchy. So you can understand if a penguin were ambitious this is their opportunity to impress the High Exalting Bishop and get a closer seat to God.

Awarding me the seat directly in front of sister Leonard came with a certain cruelty besides having to look directly at her all the time. Sister Leonard decided that if any pupil didn’t know the answer to one of the eleven million questions we needed to know to be confirmed that I would. For the entire year if a student gave an incorrect answer she would direct me to give the correct response with meant I had to know all these questions and answers. To this day I can correctly respond to the questions.

I don’t know what the Latin derivative of “mind –you” is but it certainly must have a holy origin. I believe the phrase so often repeated by the sisters of St. Bartholomew’s in ancient times must have been ”mind-Jew”, possibly referring to the doctrine of the Jews. “Mind-you Mr. Flynn. “ I must have heard that phrase repeated half a dozen times a class with Sister Leonard! The Catholic Church is so formal! We were always addressed by our last name. James, Gary and I did ponder over this enigma and in the tradition of Jew Jersey we figured it was the slang for “Remind-You”. Although that really doesn’t make sense sisters using a slang term in the same sentence they call you Mr. Flynn. Hey, we were only in the sixth grade!

Seventh and Eighth grades were also dedicated to the noble pursuit of the sacrament of confirmation. This meant my sister Jean would also be preparing for confirmation. The last time I had a sister in my class was the fourth grade and I had a punishment every day... I must not do this or that whatever it was miserable. But Jean wasn't a tattle tale like Karen plus she had a different penguin. As if there wasn’t enough rain for Noah nor punishment for the Christians during the Roman Era public school Catholics had to endure two weeks of extra catechism each summer. Certainly it must be a taste of purgatory. For the record we attended two days that summer but we diligently rose early each morning and pretended to go to catechism while actually playing baseball or raiding the nearby orchards. James, Gary and I threatened all our siblings and friends not to squeal on us. It seemed to satisfy everyone. Unfortunately shortly after the summer session ended our parents received a letter from Father Clark not only providing attendance information but the solution to the dilemma as well. The correspondence threatened excommunication from the church unless we repented by attending Latin instructional classes to become “alter boys.” It wasn’t until much later I realized this was in fact their most popular way to recruit altar boys. The entire contingent was populated by guys like us doing penance. So we traded two weeks in the summer for two days a week for the next year. We purposely failed the first six months training session to discover Father Clark would have us in class until we passed. Upon finally learning the Latin prayers, the bell ringing, and strategic movements of the bible during mass we graduated with one condition… That we never serve the same mass together. This was most assuredly divine inspiration. My partner was an older guy named Warren who welcomed me into this holy covenanted cluster by telling me the best wine was served at Easter and Christmas. There was little doubt he was indemnifying some mortal sins.

Rookie altar boys have special duties like serving the 6:00 AM mass for a week every six weeks. It was especially nice in the winter leaving my nice warm house at 5:30 AM in the pitch dark on my bike tracking through the tire scrunching snow. The route to the church was about two miles through the neighborhoods. I did it so often I could tell if I was on time by who was leaving their house as I passed by. I never wanted to be early as the church would be locked and I much prefer to freeze while moving than standing still. Of course, the only parishioners at the six were mostly penguins.

One morning I was especially tired and I fell asleep on the alter stairs leaning on my fists and elbows. I awoke abruptly to the sting of Sister Leonard’s hand across my face. Apparently she had noticed Father Kelly had changed the bible from one side of the alter to the other for the reading of the gospel, a task I was supposed to perform. She took the liberty of punishing me in front of God so to speak. I came consciously close to decking her. Father Kelly looked visibly surprised and angered. After the mass he apologized to me as if it were his fault for moving the bible. He said he knew I had been pulling more than my fair share of the 6:00 AM masses and he thought I could use the rest.

St. Bartholomew’s was conveniently located in East Brunswick next to some orchards and baseball diamonds. Talk about temptation! Every day we rode our bicycles through the baseball diamonds adjacent to the orchards into the compound of church, rectory, convent, school and gymnasium to listen the penguins preach. All of the time your mind would be thinking of the lucky Protestants and Jews playing ball, swimming, bike riding, building forts, riding go carts, dirt bikes or catching frogs, snakes and turtles. It was enough to make you want to convert.

So months and months of studying this arduous material painfully endures with but a single purpose…to receive the sacrament of confirmation. Bishop Hagen from the Arch Dioceses of Trenton will preside over the ceremonies. As the time grew closer we would practice in the church. Guys on one side and girls on the other in order of height. Apparently the Catholic Church feels juveniles should be structured this way possible for our own protection. Being one of the taller guys I sat in the last row between Wayne Depano and Peter Walling.

The day before we were supposed to be confirmed we had a rehearsal in the church. Everyone was present and accounted for. We had to get this right. After all our parents and relatives would all be there to witness the event. Part of the ritual of confirmation was that someone had to stand up for you; usually a relative and you took their name as a second middle name. I think the person that stood up for you had to be Catholic and the name had to be one of the apostles or saints or something. I know it wasn’t the other way around because my Uncle Jack who stood up for me was no saint. So my name became Patrick Joseph John Flynn, John being my confirmed name so as not to get me mixed up with the heathens at judgment day, I guess. As our final practice came to a close Sister Leonard stalked over to my pew and commanded that I have my hair cut prior to attending the ceremony. Now in 1965 with the British Invasion just taking hold my hair length had managed to make it maybe to a quarter inch over my ears. This was obviously not acceptable to the high exalting Bishop, although all the apostles and disciples seemed to have really long hair in the bible we had be studying.

We all had to attend mass early in the morning prior to the ceremony. So at 7:00 AM I sat in the last row between Wayne and Peter awaiting the mass. Of course I didn’t get my hair cut but I did have it slicked back so as t appear shorter. Sister Leonard promptly entered the church from behind the altar at 7:00 AM. In a manner that could only be described as marching she paraded in front of the altar genuflecting, of course, in front of the cross and turning around to face the pews. The church was dark early in the morning and profoundly quiet. From my perspective sitting in the far back of the pews she looked like a small and shadowed leader about to command the troops. It was that moment I knew she was staring at me. Over 300 juvenile Catholics seated in the church about to be confirmed and I was convinced she was looking at me. My mind was racing and I was panicking internally. She started to walk towards the back of the church. Each step more deliberate than the last. Her hollow heels echoed in the holy halls. Although it was probably 60 some degrees inside the church I started to perspire. Her head was now cocked towards the male gender seated in the pews. I had no doubt she had detected from afar that I did not get my hair cut and she was on a mission to make an example out of me by denying me the opportunity I had earned to be confirmed. All I could think of is what my parents and uncle would say. The closer Sister Leonard came the more I perspired. By the time she stopped in front of my pew the sweat was running off my temples. She turned and faced the pew I was in and our eyes met. Complete fear now raged throughout my body. The anticipation was more than I could take. It was worse by far than any penance I had received. As Sister Leonard’s mouth started to open my life of 14 years passed before me and I was humbled by her power. “Mr. Flynn”, she barked, “It seems no altar boys showed up for the mass this morning so I am volunteering your services.” “I know you are not an altar boy anymore but I know you can perform the services.” I don’t know what came over me that moment. I felt such an enormous relief my sweat dried cold. I responded with, “Do you think someone with this long hair could serve the church?” I tried to pull the words back into my mouth but it was too late. I guess I felt so guilty I had to confess but in a sarcastic, cool, peer driven manner. Well that foul drew a back of the head slap and “you get there right now young man.”

So now I get to hold the patten under the chins of all my classmates while the priest offered them the host. Occasionally when I was an altar boy serving mass I would get some of my friends and classmates in this situation and it always seemed strange. I mean I could have been stealing apples out of the orchard with some of these parishioners the day before and now holier than thou they’re receiving the sacrament and I’m assisting the Priest in this ritual which seemed less meaningful under the circumstances. But now the grand opportunity to see all my classmates take the offering. I liked to observe if they opened or closed their eyes and there is something sexual about women in this position. This turned out to be so much fun! I started to take some real liberties with the patten like digging it into the necks of some of my guy friends or slapping them on the cheek as I went by. I was having a ball. I pressed so hard on one friend that he spit it out and I caught it. Up on to now I had never even seen one fall except on time Father Kelly mishandled one and it flew over the parishioners head like a coin toss. I wasn’t prepared for that. Father Kelly obviously knew what prodigal was necessary in this situation. Very nonchalantly he placed a scarf he was wearing over the host and told me we would recover it later. Father Kelly had a lot of class. He was my favorite priest and a great basketball coach.

After the mass I returned to the alter boy’s sacristy to change out of the black robe with the white ruffled top. I noticed that some of the Bishops Entourage had placed some of his garments in the sacristy including his crown and staff. There they lay littered with jewels begging me to try them on. After all when would I again get this opportunity to impersonate a Bishop. I mean I already had on the robes. So I put the immaculate crown on and picked up the staff and starred into the mirror.
At just that moment Sister Leonard decided to make an appearance in the boys sacristy which I thought was like the boys locker room and was off limits to the female gender. Apparently not! She screamed at the sight of me and ran out the door calling for Mother Superior. Within seconds they bolted into the boys’ sacristy ordering me to take off the garments and declared I had committed a sacrilegious act and would have to make a Novena before being confirmed. With all the commotion going on in the boys’ sacristy Father Kelly entered and greeted the sisters with a more than perplexing look on his face. I could tell he was thinking the same thing as me… Nuns should not be allowed in the boy’s sacristy. It was like the holy locker room. The penguins were the ones committing a sin here. I was just curious. Father Kelly patiently listened to the penguins bark out the dreadful deed. Father Kelly thanked them and dismissed them stating he would handle it from here. The moment the door closed Father Kelly smiled and said not to worry about it and that I didn’t do anything sacrilegious and under the circumstances he might have done the same thing. The second cold sweat in less than an hour a true red letter day. The lord was looking out for me on that day that’s for sure.

So Catechism as we knew it ended on that celebrated day because once you were confirmed none of the CYO classes were mandatory. So none of us went. We did, of course, continue to attend mass on Sunday and Holy Days, but communion was less and less frequent and confessions disappeared. Does the phrase retired catholic mean anything to you?