Welcome back! I’m not very prepared this week, having just returned from a trip, so this might not be the most artfully written post you’ve ever read. As promised last time, the topic of this week is catechesis. This isn’t a place for analysis, but for sharing stories.
I just read an excerpt from the book 'The Devil's Triangle: Mark Judge vs the New American Stasi' which makes the point about how different pop culture was in the 80s, before the internet and cell phones. That point seems relevant to the discussion here.
Thinking back, I took a class on comparative religions that I know was sophomore year because the sister who taught it was only there one year. Read about Buddhists and Hindus among others and went to the local Jewish synagogue and the local Baptist church and listened to what the rabbi and the preacher had to say, among other things. The rabbi clearly didn't want to convert us and the minister obviously did. They had an interesting baptism immersion area.
I was born in 1953, and my 1st grade texts were about saints. We had to memorize the stories and recite them word for word. Grades 2-4 were memorizing the Baltimore Catechism. I remember A sacrament is an outward sign instituted by Christ to give grace. In 4th grade we were confirmed and had to answer Baltimore Catechism questions before the actual ceremony. Because I was in a 2 room school, when I went into the 5th grade we were all doing 7th grade religion, which I think was Church History. I don't remember what the 8th grade in 6th grade was, maybe scripture. At the end of the year we were given New Testaments. I moved to a 4 room school where I got to repeat the 8th grade and then the 7th grade.
During my 7th grade year, I read the New Testament. I was surprised to discover that Jesus hadn't said He was God in it,so I asked how we knew Jesus was God. She said, "How dare you ask that question?" I translated that as there's no reason to think so, and dropped out at the first opportunity I had. Since we lived miles from the church, I really didn't have an opportunity to ask anyone at the time, and by the time I could have I had simply accepted my assumption as correct and stopped asking questions about it. I had also started reading the Old Testament from the family Bible, which prompted my mother to tell me she thought I must be Jewish.
High school started with books about the Scriptures in one classroom, and quickly devolved into all the students in my grade going into the commons of the school and listening to Simon & Garfunkel. Since that was 1967, most of their music hadn't come out yet so it was mostly Sounds of Silence and I am a Rock. The second semester they decided our whole class needed sex education so that's what our religion classes became. By sophomore year I was part of a clique so I presume we all took the same class for religion, but I have no recollection of it. My junior year I started to take a class on marriage that had a real interesting book of short stories for it, until we got this protestant student teacher who insisted that I agree that a man was to be in charge of the family and the wife was to be subordinate to him. When the school chaplain insisted I agree, I did so and dropped the class as soon as it let out for the day. I have no idea what I did for a substitute religion class.
Dec 3, 2022·edited Dec 3, 2022Liked by Amy Welborn
I had a couple of very unrelated things that helped form me from an early age - a tremendous curiosity, and poor genetics where teeth are concerned.
I could read as soon as kindergarten was over, and I got to use my mom’s texts from Catholic school (1962-1968), which had glorious stories of saints, complete with beautiful pictures and I recall in particular that St Teresa of Avila was a fan of gold dangle bracelets, which I loved to think about at the time.
I had varying degrees of ear infections, tonsillitis and then, we discovered, extra teeth. All of these were treated at a doctors’ office complex where the children’s areas had these awesome blue children’s Bibles. I would read and read and read until my appointments and since some of those appointments were closer together than others, I could pick up where I left off. God bless the protestant family or Christian doctor who decided to include those materials in the waiting rooms. I learned a LOT those years in my Bible studies.
First through eighth grade CCD was a melange of times, teachers, and approaches. I mentioned last post that we studied Mother Teresa and Tom Dooley at some point. I remember in particular in third grade, we had a young adult (she might have even been a senior in high school?!) who was a recent convert. She gave us each a verse for the year (mine was Gal 5:22) and we had Bible drills. I loved that so much! I still can remember the order of the Bible thanks to Charmaine.
Once we got to high school, my parents let us pick. “You decide. You’re gonna be an adult soon. If you wanna go to CCD, you can go.” Fortunately, I had a childhood best friend who was also Catholic, and we both wanted to go to CCD. We didn’t get confirmed til 11th grade. I remember going to a Benedictine monastery that had the Blessed Sacrament in the very top floor of the building for our retreat that year. One unique thing I recall from that is the group of students who were confirmed that year (a group of about 30 of us, from about 5 different school districts in a 30 mile radius?) ended up doing 12th grade “CYO” with my secular high school English teacher as our catechist. (She was also our 11th grade catechist.) She had a definite gift for high school work and she made it a great experience.
Another thing that did help me with my faith, I am fully convinced, was the prayers and encouragement of both sets of grandparents both when they were with us, and when they passed on. My mom’s parents died when I was young, but my dad’s folks were with us for quite a while, and their faith was very evident. I did leave the church for a short time twice in a five-year span, but when I came back the second time, it was for good, praise be to God.
Amy, thank you for doing this new Substack. I’m fascinated with God’s instruments and how grace is manifested in our lives!
Grew up in the 90s, also homeschooled K-12 and kinda a Protestant convert, so rather unique experience.
Started out in a evangelical/Pentecostal Christian family, sang "Jesus Loves Me" and listened to Bible stories complete with felt characters in Sunday school, and on cassette tapes at home. In homeschool, we read the Bible as part of class.
When I was ten, my mom reverted to the Catholic church, and my sisters and I were baptized, had first Communion, and were confirmed at Easter Vigil. My mom went through RCIA; we went through a book for children at home, geared toward first communion prep. We also did some apologetics books in class. I knew the Eucharist was Jesus, my mom's main reason for reverting was based on the Eucharist. She told a story about her first communion, she knew it was very special, because she got all dressed up, but didn't know the why behind it until a friend gave her the book Rome Sweet Home when she started questioning the Protestant church.
We were active at church: altar served, sang in the children's choir, and helped mom teach 6th grade Catechism class. I went to the high school youth group, we did small groups on various topics, but nothing sticks out in my memory. Also, we did a skit on Good Friday about the Passion, it was a big deal who got to be Jesus. And I loved waving palm branches while singing "Hosanna, hey sanna, sanna, sanna ho..."
At a summer job when I was 18, I remember talking with a fellow intern who was Southern Baptist. We had a lively discussion about faith and works (I was convinced both were important, he was giving me chapter and verse how we're saved by faith alone.) He asked what the Catechism was, and whether it was like a bible commentary. At that point, I had never read the Catechism, so I didn't know the answer. Eventually, I did one of those Flocknote Catechism in a Year emails, so now I know, but back then I think I just mildly agreed with him that it talked about the faith so it was like a Bible commentary.
That’s so interesting that your mom was a trad, I actually lean Trad but I’m fine with the Novus Ordo church, maybe because I started taking my faith serious as an adult, it’s really all I’ve known, the occasional weirdness only really bothers me on Sunday’s, Daily mass is always quiet and peaceful
I gave some of my catechetical history in a comment on your first post, so I'll summarize about some grades and expand on the ones I didn't mention last time. Both parents were practicing Catholics, children of immigrants from Poland who had left their Pennsylvania coal mining town and moved to the New Jersey suburbs. Grades 1 thru 3: public school, parish CCD classes, which I loved, and covered Bible stories, memorized prayers and 10 commandments, and basic doctrine on a kid level. Some memorized questions, but not a lot. My parents had a "conversion" to greater piety thanks to learning about Padre Pio, various Marian apparitions (both approved and bogus), and started subscribing to the Wanderer and networking with fellow travellers in not-quite-trad, but Very Conservative Catholicism. Grade 4: the New Catechisms came in, full of glossy pictures of children playing, ugly modern religious art, lessons on loving our neighbor and making collages, felt banners, all the stereotypes of the time. My parents yanked me out, wrote letters of protest about the stupid texts, and ranted at parish council meetings to no avail. They bought me a children's Bible and a St. Joseph Baltimore catechism, which I loved to read, and to pore over the cartoon morality illustrations depicting children in various sinful or virtuous actions. The reluctantly sent me back for grade 5 since that was confirmation year. There I was the obnoxious kid who knew all the answers. Grade 6: I was enrolled in the parish school for the first . This might seem counterintuitive on my parents' part since they objected to the way the faith was taught, but at the time there were controversial New Things happening at my public school (like sex education) so they were choosing what they felt was the lesser of two evils. From there it was a new school every year until I finished high school, as my parents tried to protect me from various objectionable things. Grade 7 was a parent-run trad school (Baltimore catechism) but that fell apart due to infighting among the parents. Grade 8 was a private Catholic girl's academy, because they used the Daughters of St. Paul series, the only series published at the time (apart from Baltimore) that was reasonably orthodox in content. But the hour-long drive to get there each day became a burden,so the next year it was another girl's academy closer to home. Glossy, pamphlet-like religion text with Flower Power art on the cover. My parents hit the ceiling when the text suggested that Jesus committed typical childhood sins like refusing to eat his oatmeal or mouthing off to St. Joseph. Back to public school for grades 10 and 11. From then on I was strictly self-taught when it came to the Catholic faith. Luckily I loved to read, so between Bible, lives of saints, Frank Sheed, C.S. Lewis, and whatnot, I managed to learn a lot on my own. Also that much-maligned Wanderer had some decent columns alongside the purely controversial stuff.
Born in 1961, grew up in suburban Los Angeles. Father Catholic, mother Lutheran but went to church with us always.
All 5 of us kids went to public school exclusively, so religious education was CCD. CCD was on Saturday mornings, and I had CCD at the local parish from 1st grade to 3rd, taught by a nun, in a habit. I learned the basics, based on St. Joseph Missal and ?? don't remember what else. My First Communion had the traditional procession and formal photo, but that was dropped for my sister's First Communion in 1971 - so a change there.
I remember being annoyed at having to re-learn confession the new way in 1974 when I learned it the old way in 1969. It kind of prompted my dad to stop taking us kids to confession, which we had been doing about once a month or every two months. I have generally been annoyed at changes in church life/liturgical practices, and when I was growing up, it was constantly changing.
4th and 5th grade religious education was in a trailer parked in my public school parking lot - called 'Release Time', and taught by a modern nun, no habit, social justice oriented - but very good. I remember her casual talk about if President Nixon visited would you not clean up your dog's pee - or something like that! I was shocked at her use of that word. She also asked us about water and it being used for cleansing - good teaching moment.
I don't remember 6th and 7th grade - if I even had religious ed. I had my confirmation in 8th grade, and my classes were only every other week, taught by a layman, not very rigorous, though I don't really remember. No robes for confirmation, just a felt stole we decorated ourselves, with our confirmation name on it. That was it for my religious ed.
In spite of this rather light religious education, all 5 of us kids (now in our late 50s and 60s) are still Catholic.
Later as an adult I have joined faith groups at my parishes and read blogs and such!
I'm a young 'un (born in 1993, so just barely even a child of the twentieth century), but I can relate a little to that unevenness. I was homeschooled, so I got a lot of faith formation at home, but mom also put us in the parish Catechisis programs.
I remember singing a song about praising God in all situations in my first grade class. The teacher asked us to chime in with things we did and I contributed "while you're watching rats run across your yard!!" (Our neighbor was a hoarder and rats did indeed frequently venture into our yard). And the teacher rolled with it and made the whole class sing it.
For whatever reason (I think maybe we moved to the parish at a weird point in the school year?) my mom did my sacrament prep for confession and first communion herself (using the Faith and Life series, still used by most Catholic homeschoolers). The parish priest told my mom he wanted to check my understanding, so we went by the parish office one afternoon and I went in by myself. He asked me a few questions, asked me about my sins...then gave me absolution. I walked out with a weird look on my face, told my mom what happened, and she said, "congratulations! You had your first confession."
First communion was similar, except I knew it was coming and it happened at mass. I received on the hand. I was in parish RE during this time, but all I can remember are coloring pages and the children's choir.
Middle school was at a different parish. I remember getting these thin paper magazine things every week in class that we'd read and go over. They were almost always "issue of the day": I remember one on anorexia and bulimia, a play we had to read out loud about Jesus talking with a teen encouraging him to refuse to go to a party with drinking, a short paragraph comparing the lyrics of Pink (the singer) to the psalms...etc. There was some actual faith formation mixed in, I remember an analysis of the parable of the prodigal son and a mention of the differences between Eastern and Western liturgies. It was an odd curriculum.
There was also a live Stations of the Cross we had to participate in, and for some reason the coordinator thought showing middle and high school kids part of the Passion of the Christ for prep was a good idea. All I remember of the stations was walking down the street as a teenager sang "where you there?" like a drunk injured cat with a nasal deformity ("WOAHHHoooooOooAaaOoooo...."), and the moment the parish priest decided the station "Jesus is stripped" would be a great place to pray a decade of the rosary because we were at the parish grotto. The poor kid playing Jesus stood there next to a busy road in nothing but a giant cloth diaper for a good five minutes, and likely felt WAY more of what Christ felt in that moment than he'd bargained for.
High School was yet another parish, and a Life teen program. It was actually...really good. Yes, they used cheesy sketches and setups, but they really went all out (I remember the parish hall being all out decorated for a wedding and there being those fancy white Little Debbie cakes and candy almonds the night they talked about marriage) and the lady running it actually took the time to do research. I remember learning about the souls in Purgatory, Church teaching on marriage and sexuality, and the Eucharist. Then that lady left to finish her master's degree, and the last two years were not-great lessons with barely any effort taught by people who knew less than I did.
I was also in Catholic high school at this point. We spent a year of basic sacramental theology, a year on Scriptural theology, a year on Church history, and a year on Catholic ethics. There were also a few weeks of Jason Everett's Theology of the Body curriculum for teenagers thrown in there.
There were several retreats too, but I'll save those stories for another time.
Just one anecdote: my First Communion was privately arranged with an obliging priest and my parents did the prep, but my younger sister did hers with her class (priest friend had retired by then). This was in Ontario, around 1983 or 1984, and as I recall, the capstone of First Communion prep in that time and place was this months-in-preparation classroom event called the "Friendship Celebration," centered on writing down nice thoughts about one's classmates, or something like that. Another priest friend told us about attending the "Friendship Celebration" at his parish school, where when some of the boys got rowdy, the teacher ended up screaming, "You're not here to have fun, you're here to Celebrate!" at them.
I continue to be impressed not only by your memory but by the fact you have access to all of that religious instruction material! Well, anyway, here's my story, a little later than you, but in a similar geographic location, so not synchronic, but diachronic.
My first communion would have been around 1975. I would probably know more about it but I attended University of Dayton later, so those memories floated away on a tide of alcohol. A digression before I've even progressed! Nice!
My first catechesis came from my parents, of course, and I have a disjointed memory of trying to understand heaven. In my mind, I saw us all as bones floating in a cloud. Not full skeletons, mind you, but just single bones, an ulna, for example. We would hover in heaven and talk to each other. I think Marty Robbins' Gunfighter Ballads must have been playing, and that may have inspired the beginning of the conversation, as I asked my dad what heaven was like. He, in turn, asked what my favorite feeling was, and I responded that it was the moment when I finished making a model (I loved those old Revell plastic kits of automobiles and ships and such). My dad told me that heaven was like that moment, but forever. Pretty good catechesis, there, and indicative of my father's deep but quiet faith.
Off to Catholic school, and the Dominican sister who was our "interim" 1st grade teacher did not think much of me. I had really loved the previous nun, but she took a leave of absence due to ill health, and during that leave, her replacement decided that I was too ignorant of the Eucharist to receive 1st communion. Interventions were made. I like to think that, as a young boy, I stood my ground in the auto-de-fe and emerged victorious, but I think in retrospect someone just had pity.
I do remember, like you, the discussions about communion in the hand and clearly the admonition to make a throne of your hands. I also remember face-to-face confession as a thing, and even at a young age, I preferred the dark stained-wooden confessionals, smelling of Old English furniture polish, to the diffuse colored light of the little side room where the face-to-face occurred. Even now, the little door that slid aside to reveal a perforated screen, the miniature kneeler with its green vinyl, those things are evocative. The light that went on above the door, changing from green to red and back to green - that became a critical symbol in my first novel. Face-to-face, with its absence of these little instruments of confession, is suited only for spiritual direction.
Back to the topic: I recall that all of the instructions on reception of communion and the formulas of confession were more a "how to be a Catholic" catechesis, rather than any explorations of belief. Still, I got it. By third grade I submitted my poem about Jesus (one of the artifacts that I still have), and I was such a tremendous prodigy that my teachers accused me of plagiarism, and were never convinced that I hadn't copied the poem from somewhere else. I received a lowly third place for my poem, a fact which galls me still and an interaction with authority and false-accusation that would later spur me toward libertarianism.
The haze in my memories admit only a few more rays of light, associated with the proper behavior of an altar boy during the mass, but again, this is praxis, rather than faith or doctrine. As an example, I was utterly at a loss as to when or why the bells had to be rung during mass, and would keep a sharp eye on the other altar boys and follow their lead.
Fast forward to "middle school" and the only thing that leaps out at me, from our classes prior to Confirmation, is my friend "Jimmy" who grilled our religion teacher, in class, over whether oral sex was allowable outside marriage. He just wouldn't let that issue go.
While I'm sure I received significant instruction over the eight years in Catholic school, it did not make a significant impression on me. I don't recall any qualms about Confirmation, and sat by, bored, while my mother debated religious issues with "Jimmy," who was legitimately searching, and finally decided to be confirmed with the rest of us. We had a great pizza party afterwards, and I have a picture of myself and my fellow male classmates happily removing our ties in the restroom after the Mass. I cannot, however, recall which saint I chose at confirmation, and that pretty much says it all.
I was free! Into the public school system I went, and the CYO classes that were supposed to continue my religious education were about issues of the day: euthanasia and abortion prominent among them. There were a lot of cookies and lemonade, and then my discovery of the social and communal pleasures of the youth group, and the catechesis, as it were, turned to the sort of SEARCH peer ministry and self-reflection and a totally horizontal church of which a friendly Jesus was the center.
I love that your sub stack is called Trust Walk, of course, because SEARCH was formative for me, and in that huggy and lovey-dovey world, I found some self-worth that was at least centered around a Christian concept. All of that early formation of praxis fell away in light of this new thing - this emotional and psychologically fulfilling community. As I said, Jesus was at the center of it, so it wasn't wholly bad. But it was a scripture-less Jesus, a made-for-TV Jesus, and amid all the happy teenage interactions the dogma fell away with the practice. I remember, on a rare trip to the confessional, having to learn my Act of Contrition from a little kid. And frankly, it wasn't until I (much, much, much later) got a copy of your husband's "How To Book of the Catholic Mass" that I could appreciate what was going on in front of me on Sundays.
I'll stop there, in the mid-eighties, as I prepared to go off to Dayton as a committed Catholic with absolutely no understanding of the Church or its dogma. I am probably an extreme example of the failures of those years - it's easy for me to see my own lack of seriousness as a more fundamental cause of my poor formation. But, looking around at my peers who went through the same catechesis, I don't see a lot of difference in terms of eventual Catholic maturity.
In the end, as you know, I reacted strongly against the vapidity of Catholicism as I came to understand it, when faced with the first intellectual challenges which were a lure from, rather than a confrontation of my tribal Catholic identity. And my reversion was driven by an intellectual approach to God, largely through Augustine, which was serious and grimly so.
I just read an excerpt from the book 'The Devil's Triangle: Mark Judge vs the New American Stasi' which makes the point about how different pop culture was in the 80s, before the internet and cell phones. That point seems relevant to the discussion here.
Thinking back, I took a class on comparative religions that I know was sophomore year because the sister who taught it was only there one year. Read about Buddhists and Hindus among others and went to the local Jewish synagogue and the local Baptist church and listened to what the rabbi and the preacher had to say, among other things. The rabbi clearly didn't want to convert us and the minister obviously did. They had an interesting baptism immersion area.
I was born in 1953, and my 1st grade texts were about saints. We had to memorize the stories and recite them word for word. Grades 2-4 were memorizing the Baltimore Catechism. I remember A sacrament is an outward sign instituted by Christ to give grace. In 4th grade we were confirmed and had to answer Baltimore Catechism questions before the actual ceremony. Because I was in a 2 room school, when I went into the 5th grade we were all doing 7th grade religion, which I think was Church History. I don't remember what the 8th grade in 6th grade was, maybe scripture. At the end of the year we were given New Testaments. I moved to a 4 room school where I got to repeat the 8th grade and then the 7th grade.
During my 7th grade year, I read the New Testament. I was surprised to discover that Jesus hadn't said He was God in it,so I asked how we knew Jesus was God. She said, "How dare you ask that question?" I translated that as there's no reason to think so, and dropped out at the first opportunity I had. Since we lived miles from the church, I really didn't have an opportunity to ask anyone at the time, and by the time I could have I had simply accepted my assumption as correct and stopped asking questions about it. I had also started reading the Old Testament from the family Bible, which prompted my mother to tell me she thought I must be Jewish.
High school started with books about the Scriptures in one classroom, and quickly devolved into all the students in my grade going into the commons of the school and listening to Simon & Garfunkel. Since that was 1967, most of their music hadn't come out yet so it was mostly Sounds of Silence and I am a Rock. The second semester they decided our whole class needed sex education so that's what our religion classes became. By sophomore year I was part of a clique so I presume we all took the same class for religion, but I have no recollection of it. My junior year I started to take a class on marriage that had a real interesting book of short stories for it, until we got this protestant student teacher who insisted that I agree that a man was to be in charge of the family and the wife was to be subordinate to him. When the school chaplain insisted I agree, I did so and dropped the class as soon as it let out for the day. I have no idea what I did for a substitute religion class.
I had a couple of very unrelated things that helped form me from an early age - a tremendous curiosity, and poor genetics where teeth are concerned.
I could read as soon as kindergarten was over, and I got to use my mom’s texts from Catholic school (1962-1968), which had glorious stories of saints, complete with beautiful pictures and I recall in particular that St Teresa of Avila was a fan of gold dangle bracelets, which I loved to think about at the time.
I had varying degrees of ear infections, tonsillitis and then, we discovered, extra teeth. All of these were treated at a doctors’ office complex where the children’s areas had these awesome blue children’s Bibles. I would read and read and read until my appointments and since some of those appointments were closer together than others, I could pick up where I left off. God bless the protestant family or Christian doctor who decided to include those materials in the waiting rooms. I learned a LOT those years in my Bible studies.
First through eighth grade CCD was a melange of times, teachers, and approaches. I mentioned last post that we studied Mother Teresa and Tom Dooley at some point. I remember in particular in third grade, we had a young adult (she might have even been a senior in high school?!) who was a recent convert. She gave us each a verse for the year (mine was Gal 5:22) and we had Bible drills. I loved that so much! I still can remember the order of the Bible thanks to Charmaine.
Once we got to high school, my parents let us pick. “You decide. You’re gonna be an adult soon. If you wanna go to CCD, you can go.” Fortunately, I had a childhood best friend who was also Catholic, and we both wanted to go to CCD. We didn’t get confirmed til 11th grade. I remember going to a Benedictine monastery that had the Blessed Sacrament in the very top floor of the building for our retreat that year. One unique thing I recall from that is the group of students who were confirmed that year (a group of about 30 of us, from about 5 different school districts in a 30 mile radius?) ended up doing 12th grade “CYO” with my secular high school English teacher as our catechist. (She was also our 11th grade catechist.) She had a definite gift for high school work and she made it a great experience.
Another thing that did help me with my faith, I am fully convinced, was the prayers and encouragement of both sets of grandparents both when they were with us, and when they passed on. My mom’s parents died when I was young, but my dad’s folks were with us for quite a while, and their faith was very evident. I did leave the church for a short time twice in a five-year span, but when I came back the second time, it was for good, praise be to God.
Amy, thank you for doing this new Substack. I’m fascinated with God’s instruments and how grace is manifested in our lives!
Grew up in the 90s, also homeschooled K-12 and kinda a Protestant convert, so rather unique experience.
Started out in a evangelical/Pentecostal Christian family, sang "Jesus Loves Me" and listened to Bible stories complete with felt characters in Sunday school, and on cassette tapes at home. In homeschool, we read the Bible as part of class.
When I was ten, my mom reverted to the Catholic church, and my sisters and I were baptized, had first Communion, and were confirmed at Easter Vigil. My mom went through RCIA; we went through a book for children at home, geared toward first communion prep. We also did some apologetics books in class. I knew the Eucharist was Jesus, my mom's main reason for reverting was based on the Eucharist. She told a story about her first communion, she knew it was very special, because she got all dressed up, but didn't know the why behind it until a friend gave her the book Rome Sweet Home when she started questioning the Protestant church.
We were active at church: altar served, sang in the children's choir, and helped mom teach 6th grade Catechism class. I went to the high school youth group, we did small groups on various topics, but nothing sticks out in my memory. Also, we did a skit on Good Friday about the Passion, it was a big deal who got to be Jesus. And I loved waving palm branches while singing "Hosanna, hey sanna, sanna, sanna ho..."
At a summer job when I was 18, I remember talking with a fellow intern who was Southern Baptist. We had a lively discussion about faith and works (I was convinced both were important, he was giving me chapter and verse how we're saved by faith alone.) He asked what the Catechism was, and whether it was like a bible commentary. At that point, I had never read the Catechism, so I didn't know the answer. Eventually, I did one of those Flocknote Catechism in a Year emails, so now I know, but back then I think I just mildly agreed with him that it talked about the faith so it was like a Bible commentary.
That’s so interesting that your mom was a trad, I actually lean Trad but I’m fine with the Novus Ordo church, maybe because I started taking my faith serious as an adult, it’s really all I’ve known, the occasional weirdness only really bothers me on Sunday’s, Daily mass is always quiet and peaceful
I gave some of my catechetical history in a comment on your first post, so I'll summarize about some grades and expand on the ones I didn't mention last time. Both parents were practicing Catholics, children of immigrants from Poland who had left their Pennsylvania coal mining town and moved to the New Jersey suburbs. Grades 1 thru 3: public school, parish CCD classes, which I loved, and covered Bible stories, memorized prayers and 10 commandments, and basic doctrine on a kid level. Some memorized questions, but not a lot. My parents had a "conversion" to greater piety thanks to learning about Padre Pio, various Marian apparitions (both approved and bogus), and started subscribing to the Wanderer and networking with fellow travellers in not-quite-trad, but Very Conservative Catholicism. Grade 4: the New Catechisms came in, full of glossy pictures of children playing, ugly modern religious art, lessons on loving our neighbor and making collages, felt banners, all the stereotypes of the time. My parents yanked me out, wrote letters of protest about the stupid texts, and ranted at parish council meetings to no avail. They bought me a children's Bible and a St. Joseph Baltimore catechism, which I loved to read, and to pore over the cartoon morality illustrations depicting children in various sinful or virtuous actions. The reluctantly sent me back for grade 5 since that was confirmation year. There I was the obnoxious kid who knew all the answers. Grade 6: I was enrolled in the parish school for the first . This might seem counterintuitive on my parents' part since they objected to the way the faith was taught, but at the time there were controversial New Things happening at my public school (like sex education) so they were choosing what they felt was the lesser of two evils. From there it was a new school every year until I finished high school, as my parents tried to protect me from various objectionable things. Grade 7 was a parent-run trad school (Baltimore catechism) but that fell apart due to infighting among the parents. Grade 8 was a private Catholic girl's academy, because they used the Daughters of St. Paul series, the only series published at the time (apart from Baltimore) that was reasonably orthodox in content. But the hour-long drive to get there each day became a burden,so the next year it was another girl's academy closer to home. Glossy, pamphlet-like religion text with Flower Power art on the cover. My parents hit the ceiling when the text suggested that Jesus committed typical childhood sins like refusing to eat his oatmeal or mouthing off to St. Joseph. Back to public school for grades 10 and 11. From then on I was strictly self-taught when it came to the Catholic faith. Luckily I loved to read, so between Bible, lives of saints, Frank Sheed, C.S. Lewis, and whatnot, I managed to learn a lot on my own. Also that much-maligned Wanderer had some decent columns alongside the purely controversial stuff.
Born in 1961, grew up in suburban Los Angeles. Father Catholic, mother Lutheran but went to church with us always.
All 5 of us kids went to public school exclusively, so religious education was CCD. CCD was on Saturday mornings, and I had CCD at the local parish from 1st grade to 3rd, taught by a nun, in a habit. I learned the basics, based on St. Joseph Missal and ?? don't remember what else. My First Communion had the traditional procession and formal photo, but that was dropped for my sister's First Communion in 1971 - so a change there.
I remember being annoyed at having to re-learn confession the new way in 1974 when I learned it the old way in 1969. It kind of prompted my dad to stop taking us kids to confession, which we had been doing about once a month or every two months. I have generally been annoyed at changes in church life/liturgical practices, and when I was growing up, it was constantly changing.
4th and 5th grade religious education was in a trailer parked in my public school parking lot - called 'Release Time', and taught by a modern nun, no habit, social justice oriented - but very good. I remember her casual talk about if President Nixon visited would you not clean up your dog's pee - or something like that! I was shocked at her use of that word. She also asked us about water and it being used for cleansing - good teaching moment.
I don't remember 6th and 7th grade - if I even had religious ed. I had my confirmation in 8th grade, and my classes were only every other week, taught by a layman, not very rigorous, though I don't really remember. No robes for confirmation, just a felt stole we decorated ourselves, with our confirmation name on it. That was it for my religious ed.
In spite of this rather light religious education, all 5 of us kids (now in our late 50s and 60s) are still Catholic.
Later as an adult I have joined faith groups at my parishes and read blogs and such!
Thanks for opportunity to share!
I'm a young 'un (born in 1993, so just barely even a child of the twentieth century), but I can relate a little to that unevenness. I was homeschooled, so I got a lot of faith formation at home, but mom also put us in the parish Catechisis programs.
I remember singing a song about praising God in all situations in my first grade class. The teacher asked us to chime in with things we did and I contributed "while you're watching rats run across your yard!!" (Our neighbor was a hoarder and rats did indeed frequently venture into our yard). And the teacher rolled with it and made the whole class sing it.
For whatever reason (I think maybe we moved to the parish at a weird point in the school year?) my mom did my sacrament prep for confession and first communion herself (using the Faith and Life series, still used by most Catholic homeschoolers). The parish priest told my mom he wanted to check my understanding, so we went by the parish office one afternoon and I went in by myself. He asked me a few questions, asked me about my sins...then gave me absolution. I walked out with a weird look on my face, told my mom what happened, and she said, "congratulations! You had your first confession."
First communion was similar, except I knew it was coming and it happened at mass. I received on the hand. I was in parish RE during this time, but all I can remember are coloring pages and the children's choir.
Middle school was at a different parish. I remember getting these thin paper magazine things every week in class that we'd read and go over. They were almost always "issue of the day": I remember one on anorexia and bulimia, a play we had to read out loud about Jesus talking with a teen encouraging him to refuse to go to a party with drinking, a short paragraph comparing the lyrics of Pink (the singer) to the psalms...etc. There was some actual faith formation mixed in, I remember an analysis of the parable of the prodigal son and a mention of the differences between Eastern and Western liturgies. It was an odd curriculum.
There was also a live Stations of the Cross we had to participate in, and for some reason the coordinator thought showing middle and high school kids part of the Passion of the Christ for prep was a good idea. All I remember of the stations was walking down the street as a teenager sang "where you there?" like a drunk injured cat with a nasal deformity ("WOAHHHoooooOooAaaOoooo...."), and the moment the parish priest decided the station "Jesus is stripped" would be a great place to pray a decade of the rosary because we were at the parish grotto. The poor kid playing Jesus stood there next to a busy road in nothing but a giant cloth diaper for a good five minutes, and likely felt WAY more of what Christ felt in that moment than he'd bargained for.
High School was yet another parish, and a Life teen program. It was actually...really good. Yes, they used cheesy sketches and setups, but they really went all out (I remember the parish hall being all out decorated for a wedding and there being those fancy white Little Debbie cakes and candy almonds the night they talked about marriage) and the lady running it actually took the time to do research. I remember learning about the souls in Purgatory, Church teaching on marriage and sexuality, and the Eucharist. Then that lady left to finish her master's degree, and the last two years were not-great lessons with barely any effort taught by people who knew less than I did.
I was also in Catholic high school at this point. We spent a year of basic sacramental theology, a year on Scriptural theology, a year on Church history, and a year on Catholic ethics. There were also a few weeks of Jason Everett's Theology of the Body curriculum for teenagers thrown in there.
There were several retreats too, but I'll save those stories for another time.
Just one anecdote: my First Communion was privately arranged with an obliging priest and my parents did the prep, but my younger sister did hers with her class (priest friend had retired by then). This was in Ontario, around 1983 or 1984, and as I recall, the capstone of First Communion prep in that time and place was this months-in-preparation classroom event called the "Friendship Celebration," centered on writing down nice thoughts about one's classmates, or something like that. Another priest friend told us about attending the "Friendship Celebration" at his parish school, where when some of the boys got rowdy, the teacher ended up screaming, "You're not here to have fun, you're here to Celebrate!" at them.
I continue to be impressed not only by your memory but by the fact you have access to all of that religious instruction material! Well, anyway, here's my story, a little later than you, but in a similar geographic location, so not synchronic, but diachronic.
My first communion would have been around 1975. I would probably know more about it but I attended University of Dayton later, so those memories floated away on a tide of alcohol. A digression before I've even progressed! Nice!
My first catechesis came from my parents, of course, and I have a disjointed memory of trying to understand heaven. In my mind, I saw us all as bones floating in a cloud. Not full skeletons, mind you, but just single bones, an ulna, for example. We would hover in heaven and talk to each other. I think Marty Robbins' Gunfighter Ballads must have been playing, and that may have inspired the beginning of the conversation, as I asked my dad what heaven was like. He, in turn, asked what my favorite feeling was, and I responded that it was the moment when I finished making a model (I loved those old Revell plastic kits of automobiles and ships and such). My dad told me that heaven was like that moment, but forever. Pretty good catechesis, there, and indicative of my father's deep but quiet faith.
Off to Catholic school, and the Dominican sister who was our "interim" 1st grade teacher did not think much of me. I had really loved the previous nun, but she took a leave of absence due to ill health, and during that leave, her replacement decided that I was too ignorant of the Eucharist to receive 1st communion. Interventions were made. I like to think that, as a young boy, I stood my ground in the auto-de-fe and emerged victorious, but I think in retrospect someone just had pity.
I do remember, like you, the discussions about communion in the hand and clearly the admonition to make a throne of your hands. I also remember face-to-face confession as a thing, and even at a young age, I preferred the dark stained-wooden confessionals, smelling of Old English furniture polish, to the diffuse colored light of the little side room where the face-to-face occurred. Even now, the little door that slid aside to reveal a perforated screen, the miniature kneeler with its green vinyl, those things are evocative. The light that went on above the door, changing from green to red and back to green - that became a critical symbol in my first novel. Face-to-face, with its absence of these little instruments of confession, is suited only for spiritual direction.
Back to the topic: I recall that all of the instructions on reception of communion and the formulas of confession were more a "how to be a Catholic" catechesis, rather than any explorations of belief. Still, I got it. By third grade I submitted my poem about Jesus (one of the artifacts that I still have), and I was such a tremendous prodigy that my teachers accused me of plagiarism, and were never convinced that I hadn't copied the poem from somewhere else. I received a lowly third place for my poem, a fact which galls me still and an interaction with authority and false-accusation that would later spur me toward libertarianism.
The haze in my memories admit only a few more rays of light, associated with the proper behavior of an altar boy during the mass, but again, this is praxis, rather than faith or doctrine. As an example, I was utterly at a loss as to when or why the bells had to be rung during mass, and would keep a sharp eye on the other altar boys and follow their lead.
Fast forward to "middle school" and the only thing that leaps out at me, from our classes prior to Confirmation, is my friend "Jimmy" who grilled our religion teacher, in class, over whether oral sex was allowable outside marriage. He just wouldn't let that issue go.
While I'm sure I received significant instruction over the eight years in Catholic school, it did not make a significant impression on me. I don't recall any qualms about Confirmation, and sat by, bored, while my mother debated religious issues with "Jimmy," who was legitimately searching, and finally decided to be confirmed with the rest of us. We had a great pizza party afterwards, and I have a picture of myself and my fellow male classmates happily removing our ties in the restroom after the Mass. I cannot, however, recall which saint I chose at confirmation, and that pretty much says it all.
I was free! Into the public school system I went, and the CYO classes that were supposed to continue my religious education were about issues of the day: euthanasia and abortion prominent among them. There were a lot of cookies and lemonade, and then my discovery of the social and communal pleasures of the youth group, and the catechesis, as it were, turned to the sort of SEARCH peer ministry and self-reflection and a totally horizontal church of which a friendly Jesus was the center.
I love that your sub stack is called Trust Walk, of course, because SEARCH was formative for me, and in that huggy and lovey-dovey world, I found some self-worth that was at least centered around a Christian concept. All of that early formation of praxis fell away in light of this new thing - this emotional and psychologically fulfilling community. As I said, Jesus was at the center of it, so it wasn't wholly bad. But it was a scripture-less Jesus, a made-for-TV Jesus, and amid all the happy teenage interactions the dogma fell away with the practice. I remember, on a rare trip to the confessional, having to learn my Act of Contrition from a little kid. And frankly, it wasn't until I (much, much, much later) got a copy of your husband's "How To Book of the Catholic Mass" that I could appreciate what was going on in front of me on Sundays.
I'll stop there, in the mid-eighties, as I prepared to go off to Dayton as a committed Catholic with absolutely no understanding of the Church or its dogma. I am probably an extreme example of the failures of those years - it's easy for me to see my own lack of seriousness as a more fundamental cause of my poor formation. But, looking around at my peers who went through the same catechesis, I don't see a lot of difference in terms of eventual Catholic maturity.
In the end, as you know, I reacted strongly against the vapidity of Catholicism as I came to understand it, when faced with the first intellectual challenges which were a lure from, rather than a confrontation of my tribal Catholic identity. And my reversion was driven by an intellectual approach to God, largely through Augustine, which was serious and grimly so.