In the 4th. grade we made our confession of faith during the sacrament of Confirmation.By that age we were well-steeped in the Catholic teachings shared with us by our parents and then by our teachers. First grade, we learned through a simple catechism. Second grade we made our first confession and a day later, our first Holy Communion. The best behaved I have ever been was the 24 hours in between each sacrament. I did not want any sin on my soul when I brought the living God into my body through the sacred Host.
During my time in Catholic school I attended daily Mass before school each morning and on Sunday. On Saturday I walked to church to make another confession. It was usually the same one each time: I disobeyed my mother ten times a day. This became the theme of my life with authority figures whose expectations seemed beyond reason to me.The Church became a refuge for me, a place of calm and forgiveness beyond human comprehension; very much unlike the world around me seething with ambiguity and hypocrisy,misogyny and racism, ethnocentrism and abuse of power. Each lunch hour became a Holy Hour where I sat before the altar and conversed with Jesus, Mary and my namesake, Joseph.
I asked Mary to be my spiritual Mother and teach me to be a good daughter. The church, for Catholics, is such a sacred space. It is open to the heavens and limitless grace, because the actual Body of Christ in the form of a Host of bread resides in the Tabernacle in the Center of the altar, directly under the crucifix which reminds us of an immense love for fellow human beings. In front of that altar lives are transformed. Mine was. From a self-centered child to an other-centered human being. Oh, still a sinner who needed confession at least once a week. But, one ready to forgive and to be forgiven as a member of a flawed human race. most importantly, Catholic sanctity requires social action, not merely prayers and thoughts. Oh, there are plenty of prayers and thoughts. But, those drive us to social action.
On the first day of classes, or soon after, an opening Mass would be celebrated by the entire school. Each class was guided into pews, with some pushing and shoving as the pews grew crowded. A teacher sat with each class to keep us in line. Silence is a hallmark of that sacred space where it is expected our minds should be on silent conversation with God, not with others in the pew. When I attended Protestant services the friendly chatter, greetings and conversation seemed strange to me until I realized that, there, communion was a symbol not a presence, of Jesus. Chatter and conversation was a good thing. It helped build community in ways silence might not.
But, for me, silence built an even larger community. I was aligned not only with the souls in the seats around me, but with the souls who had gone before me; with the angels and with the saints. The children at Annunciation Catholic School were thus surrounded as a gunman shot them, as they thought and prayed in their most sacred space. The angels and saints could comfort them. They could not stop the evil. Only we can do that. We must act.We are given the grace to do so if we are willing to accept the challenge.
Firearm deaths are the leading cause of death in children aged 1-17. Adults, for the most part, are killing our children so gun dealers and manufacturers can profit. The NRA and right-wing propagandists erroneously convinced Americans that the second amendment protects the right to own a gun. Unlike other protections in the Bill of Rights we are told guns cannot be regulated. Every right can be regulated within reason. The Second Amendment to the Bill of rights protects the right to own guns to form a militia, a National Guard, in case of foreign invasion. Now, The National Guard, is being used against our own population, not a foreign nation invasion. Immigration is not invasion. It is a civil, not criminal, process. No immigrant is an illegal. The National Guard, under state authority of its governor, is trained to assist us. Instead it is being used to assist a racist, partisan coup. Elections may see even more troops meant to intimidate and control access to voting locations. While wildfires, floods and storms persist, those who might help us are being diverted to protect an administration’s image and authoritarianism.
Hate for and fear of others has become the Republican Party rallying cry. There are minds fueled by drugs, alcohol, mental illness, hopelessness and despair who become aroused to violence by the hate and bullying being shouted out in presidential news briefings. Minds twisted by hate with access to weapons too easily become killing machines. Instructions in weapons and killing are available on-line. Social Media does little or nothing to constrain hate speech and manifestos of death and destruction; and yes, of the killing of children. Yet, social media regulation is continually stymied by profiting politicians, and by presidents who encourage gift-giving.
When I watched the footage of children describing their experience I thought of my own classmates so many years ago. I felt the grief and tortured cries of my soul knowing how significant evil in such a sacred space was the worst kind of sacrilege. It was only a matter of time that the sacrilege going on in our streets, nightclubs, restaurants, and schools would invade our most sacred spaces. But, in reality, every bullet fired into another human being is a violation of a most sacred space.
As my first grade catechism explained why I was born into this world: To love and serve God in this world and to be with Him in the next. I shall serve Him by demanding we protect His most sacred creation, our children. We have no time to waste. The killing field is being put in place hour by hour, day by day.
annarino writes 
LIBRARIES SAVE US
I learned to read before anyone knew it, even myself. It seems I always could. My mother read to me every day until my younger brother was born when I was four. Then, I read to myself the books Mom had read to me. When my brother was old enough to sit up in the stroller we walked to the public library every day. Mom read to my brother as I pulled books off the shelf and read to myself.
That year my grandfather went to Italy in a ship called the Andrea Doria. We were in New York visiting Mom’s family at the time so we all went to the pier, borded and toured the ship then waved them off as the ship pulled out of port. I remember every detail of that beautiful ship.
Every morning while Mom was busy I would lie on the living room carpet and lay the Advocate, our local newspaper, out on the floor and read it from front page to last. There was a front page article one morning describing the sinking of the Andrea Doria on its return trip from Italy. I excitedly ran to Mom to tell her Grandpa’s ship sunk on the way home. She asked me how I knew and I replied that I had read it in the newspaper. “Show me,” she said. So, I read the article to her. She asked me to keep reading. After, she asked me when I learned to read. I told her that I did not know when. I know now it was when Mom read to me. She taught me phonics as she read, and helped me sound out words I saw in print.
After that, we continued our daily visits to the library. While Mom read to the baby, I read book after book. I was allowed to take home 4 books on a child’s card, and took home 4 each day. I read them at home and returned them the next day. This went on for years. By the time I was in the fourth grade I had read every book in the children’s section. The Children’s Librarian agreed her records showed that to be so. She sent me to the Adult Librarian to get an adult card so I could begin reading in that section of the library.
The Adult Librarian informed me that I could not get an adult card until I was in high school…five more years to wait to read! I was so disappointed until the Children’s Librarian escorted me back and explained I needed an adult card since I had read all she could offer me. I got my adult card.
I proceeded to read section by section: biography, autobiography, biology, American and Ohio history, World history and geography, politics, philosophy, fiction in all genres. Every day after school I returned the book I had checked out the day before and took out more to read after doing chores and finishing my school homework.
I still read a book a day, but almost solely for pleasure. My internet reading is dedicated to current events and politics. One can only handle so much these days of corruption and authoritarian greed. I thank Mom for teaching me to read, to lose myself in the printed world where goodwill toward others overcomes self-interest, and love drives out hate. I need that. I need to believe it is possible.
Mother’s and Fathers, read to your children. You give them a greater gift than you can ever know. It costs nothing. Public libraries still exist; although, they are under attack. Writers still write truth to uplift souls and encourage an appreciation for facts; although, they too are under attack.
We need to support writers, poets, actors, comedians, artists of all genres. We need to support our public libraries. Keep reading. Keep believing. Our libraries may save us all.
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