2.16 Bless Me, Father

1956 • Willow Glen ~ It doesn’t take much Catholic upbringing to instill one with guilt, especially if the Church gets its hands on you while you’re young. The nuns prepared me for my First Holy Communion, teaching me to be thankful I’d been baptized so I wouldn’t have to spend eternity in Limbo, and educating me about Purgatory and Hell which I knew were a definite possibility if I died with any sin on my soul. They explained what a sin was, and also explained that something was not a sin unless you knew it was a sin, which I found very confusing. There were church rules to learn too: no meat on Friday, no candy during Lent, and if you were a girl, no entering church with your head uncovered. Breaking church rules was also a sin. I learned the Ten Commandments and the Stations of the Cross. I was taught about the Sacraments and the Holy Days. I memorized the Our Father, the Hail Mary, and the Act of Contrition—all requirements to make your First Holy Communion.

I remember my first confession. Along with my fellow penitents, I kneeled in the pew just outside the two confessionals. They looked like wooden phone booths with curtains and a light over the door to signal whether they were occupied. When one side vacated, I took my turn. Kneeling in the tiny darkened room, I listened to mumbling on the other side and waited for the closing swish of the black screen and the opening swish when it was my turn. With sweat trickling down the center of my back, I bowed my head, made the sign of the cross, held my hands in prayer and whispered into the shadows.

“Bless me, Father, for I have sinned.”

It was important to have things to confess. Having had little chance to commit any mortal sins, I had committed a few venial ones so Father wouldn’t think I was hiding anything. I stepped on a crack, said a curse word, and disobeyed Betty, though I’m not sure that counted because she was not the boss of me. After five minutes in the confessional and a penance of ten Our Fathers and fifteen Hail Marys, I was forgiven.

I loved the way this worked. Sins don’t count unless you know they’re sins. Or, you can commit a sin but then receive absolution by going to confession. If you’re lucky and die in that very moment, you go to heaven. If you’re unlucky and die with a venial sin on your soul you end up in Purgatory. And if you’re really unlucky and die with a mortal sin on your soul, you go straight to Hell. Timing was everything.

On May 13th, I received my First Holy Communion at Sacred Heart Church in Willow Glen, a tree-lined neighborhood in San Jose where we lived. Mom made my veil and dress. She took me shopping for lace-trimmed white socks and white shoes. Carleen wasn’t there to give me a perm but my hair still looked pretty good.

Cathy Clemens, 1st Holy Communion

From my place in the procession going into the church, I spotted Mom in the crowd, and then Claudia waving to me. I tried not to grin when I spied my dad standing on the other side with his sister, my Aunt Elizabeth, who drove up from Lynwood to attend my ceremony. She gave me a blue leather-covered pocket missal and a First Holy Communion card with a praying child on the cover. Dad gave me a beautiful silk-padded card with Jesus on the cover. I don’t remember much else about the day, but I have the pictures he took with his Brownie, and I saved the cards. I still have my missal too.

to be continued…

© 2018. Catherine Sevenau.
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