Six Going on Seven

In 2009 we persuaded Fr John to let us publish some of his memories and reflections into booklet style themed books, each holding between 30-40 short articles. These have proved a very popular addition to our Watermead publications and so we thought a good way to start this "Watermead Voices" blog was to share the opening reflection from the first book, ChristGift . (More information on this book and the series can be found on our shop website ).

"SIX GOING ON SEVEN"

When I was six I knew I could not be an explorer. It came as a sudden understanding when I heard teacher say that missing mass on Sunday was a mortal sin. Only if we were too ill would we have an excuse to miss mass.

Realistically I saw that I couldn’t be too ill if I were up the North Pole or down in the jungle. I would have healthily and freely gone there. No excuse. I knew in that moment of enlightenment that I could never go anywhere unless I could get back for Sunday.

The other two mortal sins I could cope with: eating meat on Friday wouldn’t be a problem because Mum and Dad didn’t, and murder wasn’t on my mind and I didn’t think I’d plan one.

Venial sins that would be on offer when I was seven were: missing morning and evening prayer, being cheeky to my parents and teachers, and fighting. A good Act of Contribution would be sufficient to bring God’s forgiveness for these, but only Confession was good enough for missing mass on Sunday (“Please Father, I was at the North Pole and couldn’t get back”) or eating meat on Friday (“Please Father, I thought it was Thursday”) and murder (no excuse). Confession was a wonderful secret in the dark between you and God and the priest, and you would come out of the box full of joy, said teacher.

I was quite happy to be six but saw some Catholic promise in being seven. My school friends would share it with me but my street friends had only their birthdays and then nothing till Christmas. We’d have Confession and First Holy Communion. It was good being a Catholic, teacher said.

She was right. First Holy Communion and breakfast were happy and First Confession was easy. Father knew my sins before I got to him – we only had a few to share amongst us, “Choose any three out of these five,” teacher had said.

I never did make the North Pole, I’ve not yet committed murder (I have a short list), and I can eat meat on Friday because it hasn’t been a mortal sin for ages. I’m sorry for those who might be in hell because they ate Friday meat in the old days, just as I’m sorry for my Catholic friends who went to non-Catholic schools when the bishop in his pastoral letter (what a name!) told parents to send their children to Catholic school “under pain of mortal sin”.

So different today, aren’t we. As I look at our six and seven-year-olds in school I think sadly of the fear of God that we were taught. I wish I’d heard more about God’s love. I wish some of my friends, who have long left the Church, had heard of God’s love, too. When they met the real world they found the unreality of going to hell for eating meat on Friday or missing mass on Sunday too much. They had come to know much greater evil.

Copyright © 2010 John Daley IC, Watermead Publishing Ltd