Confirmation

As I completed my weekly thirty minute walk and approached the church last night, I caught sight of a crowd of young people milling about the door.  Uh oh, I now recalled.  I'd forgotten that we'd been given full warning last week that a group of young people were being confirmed this evening, in case we chose to attend a different service.

I hadn't been present at a confirmation service since my own confirmation as a 20-year-old.  Everyone being confirmed along with me was a college student, so the ambience was a bit different from last night's.  Twenty-four children, together with their parents and sponsors, filled the front half of the church.  The rear half, where I settled in, was uncommonly sparsely filled.  The ages of the "confirmands" appeared to range from about eleven to fifteen -- typically, middle school age.  Most were neatly dressed, most of the boys in white shirts and red bow ties, the girls in attractive dresses.

The celebrants processed down the central aisle, the various readers and two altar boys  followed by our two parish priests.  The entire ensemble was followed by an auxiliary bishop of the archdiocese -- wearing a miter (tall headdress) and carrying a shepherd's staff, just like in the movies.  After the homily, or sermon, the young people were called to the front by name, one by one, where the bishop laid his hands on the head and applied a smear of fragrant "chrism" (oil).

Theologically, baptism of the children, usually received as babies, was thus confirmed and the child's baptismal graces were brought to completion; the Holy Spirit was called down to enter and aid each of them, analogous to the descent of the Holy Spirit on the apostles at Pentecost.  (The children were warned that they might not feel different afterwards, but they were different.)  Socially, confirmation, which follows a series of lessons and instructions, resembles a Jewish bar or bat mitzvah (without the parties and gifts!), marking the spiritual adulthood of the young person and bringing him into full membership in the congregation.  

Each child had been asked to write a short statement for the weekly church bulletin, explaining why they sought confirmation, the name of their adopted patron saint and the reason for the choice, and something personal about their own life.  The paragraphs were often touching, occasionally a bit rote, with some hoping to love and aid the marginalized more fully (St. Theresa of Calcutta, St. Francis), some hoping to be strong when persecuted (St. Sebastian, St. Joan of Arc), and one boy expressing his  love of science and astronomy (St. Dominic as patron saint of science).

As for the "something personal," we had a group of young athletes, both boys and girls, devoted to a wide variety of athletics.  Other passions were a love of music and musical instruments, and, for two kids, playing card games.  

It was a lengthier ceremony than I'd anticipated when leaving my house last night, but the church was full of happy people, young and old.  In a nation and world full of hatred and cynicism, it was a relief to spend a couple of hours watching young people optimistically sharing their hopes for their own lives and for their world.

I walked home with a lighter step than at my arrival.