Rehearsing My Past or Deja Vu All Over Again
June 6, 2006
Last night, the Young One had confirmation practice. Because her sponsor lives over a hundred miles away, I stood in during the rehearsal.
We were told to line up in height order. This is a touchy subject in our household, as the girls are petite. The pastor, school principal, and religious education director determined that The Young One was was the shortest, and thus the first in line for the girls. She was none too pleased.
Another young lady came in late and to me, she appeared smaller than The Young One, and we moved back, but she protested and the school principal weighed in with her opinion that the other young lady was just a hair taller than The Young One. The pastor was looking rather critically at me as I eyeballed the height of the two girls.
As The Young One and I led the girls line through the school from the gym to the church, the smell of floor wax and cleanser and the hurried two step behind the pastor and principal plunged me back decades to my own grammar school.
Suddenly I was back in 5th grade and walking with my class all the way down 3 steep flights of stairs to leave for the day when some kid talked and our teacher, Sr. Ann Bernadette, made us walk all the way back up, go into the classroom, regroup, and walk back down before we could be dismissed.
The memory reaffirmed our decision years ago to send the children to public schools.
[Thinking back on it, that nun must have been in great shape if she was willing to walk down 3 flights of stairs and then back up and down again because someone (me) talked on the very last step. I swear she seemed to be about 80 to me back then. She was probably younger than I am now.]
And frankly, having spent some time as a substitute teacher, I can't say that I mind the discipline. I'd like to have some of that authority in my life today.
But what's with the need to line people up according to size? What does the sacrament of Confirmation have to do with people being in height order? Would they line them up from thin to fat? Or from palest skin to darkest? What is wrong with seeing the variety of heights, weights, shades of skin, and all the diversity of the young people as they process into church? What is this need with order?? And why do I bristle so when the 58 year old priest in street clothes starts telling my kid that she's the shortest in the room?
Really, it made me itch, then I wanted to sound off, but one look at The Young One's face made me shut up quickly, and I spent the rest of the rehearsal feeling like the pastor was narrowing his eyes at me. In the front seat. Of the first row.
He knows he hasn't seen us lately in the communion line.
He knows he doesn't know our names.
He wonders whether he'll see us again after the sacrament is received.
He knows I was pissed that my kid was singled out against her will.
He knows I'll forget to tell her sponsor when to stand and sit and what hand to put on The Young One's shoulder during the service.
He knows I've shopped around for a new church.
He knows that I'm a sinner.
It's amazing how much emotion wallop can be packed into a 45 minute confirmation rehearsal.
Is it a coincidence that today is 6-6-06?
I think not.