All Saints Day
Nov. 1st, 2004 01:48 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
jawnbcA few viscious nuns, a move to a better neighbourhood, and the counsel of several other Catlick mothers in da 'hood led Ma to send us to public school. It started with Kathleen, because there was no Catlick kindergarten (no choice, no decision to make). Then Kath was cautious dipped in public first year, while Mike was kinder'd. Then Tom, then a year off. Then me. The 'rents saved a lot on school fees, uniforms, but still wanted us to have a Good and Moral Education. Thus we went to CCD.
You down wit' CCD? Yeah you know me!
Confraternity of Christian Doctrine is the Atkins version of Catholicism. When you can't inculcate your children into CatCult through parochial school, you send them to CCD. Ostensibly CCD is the equivalent of Sunday school--except it's not taught on Sundays. We did CCD one afternoon a week (depending on age), until we were Confirmed (in Year 6). Years 1 and 2 are remedial Catholicism and prep one for First Confession and First Holy Communion. While I totally bought into the transubstantiation thing (*burp*), I distinctly remember my reaction to confession, once it was explained to me:
"you're kidding, right? I mean, people don't really tell the priest the truth, do they?"
Jaded and cynical @ 8 years old--how cool is that?
My experience with CCD was tumultuous, at best. That same year I got in trouble for drawing nude sketches of our Lord and Saviour. Picture the classic Betty Grable pinup pose, but it's Jaysus and he's bare-assed nekkid. "Why do you do this?" was all Ma could muster, after her rather terse chat with Sister Nofun. Years 3, 4, and 5 were banal and aimless. Since we weren't going up for a sacrament, it was all this "God is love" type babble. In hindsight some actual reading of the Bible would've been more valuable. But then again, the Bible figures surprisingly marginally in Catholicism.
Year 6 was Confirmation year, so we did a bit more intensive work. Picking a saint's name ("confirmation name") was important, as was picking a Sponsor. I went for tradition and added Joseph (John Patrick Joseph Egan); my brother Tommy picked Xavier (Thomas Andrew Xavier Egan, or TAXE), wiseass that he was (and remains). My sister Kath was my sponsor. A boring ceremony, a light slap across the face from the bishop and I was an adult in the eyes of the Church.
But not at home. Arguably I'm still not, based on how Ma and Da interact with me.
What was my point? Oh, right! Since we were in public school, we had classes on high holy days like All Saints Day (01 November). Secular obligation versus spiritual obligation? What to do? What to do?
Rather sensibly we could be excused from school for a couple of hours to attend church. Rather suddenly my classmates and I (whom nearly 70% were Catlicks) became rather devout. Devout, as in hang out in the wood, drink beer and smoke dope devout. The truly peverse did things like use cigarette ash (or the roach of a joint) to simulate ashes for Ash Wednesday.
Most of the teachers knew what we were up to. Some would mark our trail (school to church, via woods) and chase those of us who didn't quite complete the pilgrimage. Others would be at the doors of Church, ticking names off lists. But most probably gave even less a shit than we did. Our school nurse, however, was quite awesome and she certainly gave a shit. Her way of showing it? Asking us catechism questions, like "OK John what exactly is All Saints Day?"
Luckily I knew the answers, so when I was really, really hung over, she'd let me sleep in the infirmary. I was, after all, a nice boy.
You down wit' CCD? Yeah you know me!
Confraternity of Christian Doctrine is the Atkins version of Catholicism. When you can't inculcate your children into CatCult through parochial school, you send them to CCD. Ostensibly CCD is the equivalent of Sunday school--except it's not taught on Sundays. We did CCD one afternoon a week (depending on age), until we were Confirmed (in Year 6). Years 1 and 2 are remedial Catholicism and prep one for First Confession and First Holy Communion. While I totally bought into the transubstantiation thing (*burp*), I distinctly remember my reaction to confession, once it was explained to me:
"you're kidding, right? I mean, people don't really tell the priest the truth, do they?"
Jaded and cynical @ 8 years old--how cool is that?
My experience with CCD was tumultuous, at best. That same year I got in trouble for drawing nude sketches of our Lord and Saviour. Picture the classic Betty Grable pinup pose, but it's Jaysus and he's bare-assed nekkid. "Why do you do this?" was all Ma could muster, after her rather terse chat with Sister Nofun. Years 3, 4, and 5 were banal and aimless. Since we weren't going up for a sacrament, it was all this "God is love" type babble. In hindsight some actual reading of the Bible would've been more valuable. But then again, the Bible figures surprisingly marginally in Catholicism.
Year 6 was Confirmation year, so we did a bit more intensive work. Picking a saint's name ("confirmation name") was important, as was picking a Sponsor. I went for tradition and added Joseph (John Patrick Joseph Egan); my brother Tommy picked Xavier (Thomas Andrew Xavier Egan, or TAXE), wiseass that he was (and remains). My sister Kath was my sponsor. A boring ceremony, a light slap across the face from the bishop and I was an adult in the eyes of the Church.
But not at home. Arguably I'm still not, based on how Ma and Da interact with me.
What was my point? Oh, right! Since we were in public school, we had classes on high holy days like All Saints Day (01 November). Secular obligation versus spiritual obligation? What to do? What to do?
Rather sensibly we could be excused from school for a couple of hours to attend church. Rather suddenly my classmates and I (whom nearly 70% were Catlicks) became rather devout. Devout, as in hang out in the wood, drink beer and smoke dope devout. The truly peverse did things like use cigarette ash (or the roach of a joint) to simulate ashes for Ash Wednesday.
Most of the teachers knew what we were up to. Some would mark our trail (school to church, via woods) and chase those of us who didn't quite complete the pilgrimage. Others would be at the doors of Church, ticking names off lists. But most probably gave even less a shit than we did. Our school nurse, however, was quite awesome and she certainly gave a shit. Her way of showing it? Asking us catechism questions, like "OK John what exactly is All Saints Day?"
Luckily I knew the answers, so when I was really, really hung over, she'd let me sleep in the infirmary. I was, after all, a nice boy.
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no subject
Date: 2004-10-31 06:52 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-10-31 07:00 pm (UTC)Bastards!
Sincerely,
me, not bitter
no subject
Date: 2004-10-31 07:03 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-10-31 08:18 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-10-31 09:37 pm (UTC)hereticsnon-Catholics in Boston?Had we learned Latin it might've been more interesting (like Hebrew or Greek or Italian school). Certainly there was no groundswell for us to learn Irish.
no subject
Date: 2004-11-01 06:22 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-10-31 10:41 pm (UTC)... church! sunday school! our parents forbade both to us!!! :-D