Posted on 04/07/2017 8:08:59 PM PDT by NYer
The memory still stings: there I was, age 7, the veteran of a splendidly moving and memorable First Holy Communion and graced with an oddball love of the sacrament of Confession in all of its velvet-curtained-sliding-screen ambiance, planning to steal a toy “lady’s fan” from a candy store, simply to see if I could.
The fan was red, and I had always been — and still am — a sucker for all things red. It was airy, lacy and flamboyant, and I had the 10 cents the thing cost in my pocket.
But the toy display was on the other side of the cashier, and the devil was on my shoulder: “Take it,” he whispered. “I bet you could slip it into your pocket and no one would know.”
Petty theft, which I had never before aspired to, became suddenly a tantalizing challenge.
And the fan was red.
I took it. I cleverly slipped the thing into my sleeve and casually walked out the door. It was so easy.
And so completely unsatisfying.
By the time I’d walked home, fanning myself all the way in a manner I was sure duplicated the graceful lines of a señorita, I had begun to feel a peculiar emptiness that was new, and throughout the day that feeling grew, until it threatened to become a black hole into which I could disappear. By eventide, I had thrown the fan away from me in disgust. It wasn’t mine; it was ill-gotten booty. I had sinned, and it was not good.
The next day was Saturday — confession day in our neighborhood, for in 1965 it was a rare Catholic who would receive Communion without first reconciling themselves to God. I frankly couldn’t wait to get the theft off my chest — and out of my heart and soul — and had barely gotten the “Bless me, Father” off my tongue before the full story came pouring out. The priest, spending another glorious Saturday within a small, airless box and — at that hour — listening mostly to the piping sins of children, had given a grumpy acknowledgement that my sin was a biggie. “Stealing is mentioned in the Ten Commandments; it especially offends God,” he said, and I thought, “I know, I know, it’s been eating at me.”
Thank God for penance. A Rosary decade on my knees felt sufficiently arduous, and I emerged from church feeling like I’d done my piece. And yet . . . it couldn’t be that easy, could it? Where was the justice? The man at the candy store was still out his 10 cents.
Walking home, I fingered the quarter in my pocket, given me by my grandmother and designated for an orange drink I craved. My sense of justice wrestled with my thirst. I did dearly love my orange drink.
Finally, conscience won out; stepping into the candy store, I approached the counter, meaning to confess my crime, pay the dime and be done. But I couldn’t. Serving justice on a coward’s tray, I waited until the man’s attention was diverted, and quietly slid the quarter on his counter and quickly left the store.
It was not a perfectly balanced redemption; it left me cleansed, but out 15 cents. But I had not yet explored the vagaries of fairness. I was ignorant of all but the most elementary theology, and it would be many years before I could distinguish between the unsophisticated notion of “Catholic guilt” and the heavy grace of a formed and mature conscience, but I felt better. My Catholic grounding had informed my sense of both justice and mercy. I had confessed regret to my God and made a generous, if anonymous, restitution, and the gaping mouth of emptiness so eager to swallow me had been resolutely snapped shut.
The red fan was never again a pleasurable toy, but it became a favorite possession, a reminder that whenever God is pushed aside, only emptiness awaits.
That was 1965, who knows if the store owner has passedon or the store in question is gone.
What she was good enough.
Correction: What she did was good.
Thank-you for excellent article and God Bless.
Agreed. This is when I first learned real morality too. Same kind of thing. And as an adult I simply don’t lie. The biggest untruth I might tell is that “I can’t make it” to a function or “it looks good on you.” And I need to tell fibs to my mom with Alzheimer’s so she will be spared getting upset. That is IT for dishonesty with me, and yes, I learned 75% of how to be GOOD at about 7.
And then it's too late.
She will forever know that she never fully reconciled with the person she offended.
There's not real true closure that way.
I'm not even sure what she did was really good. It was a start but by no means good enough.
But there was more or an offense than just the object taken and that was never dealt with so she can never have a totally clear conscience.
While that is true, you’re being petty about a seven year old child’s own ideas about how to make good her sin. Gd welcomed her childish solution. No child is responsible for her sins at that age, at least not in my religion. The parents were responsible, and they didn’t know. So she did the best her little self could.
It’s being held up as virtuous behavior in a published article and she still hid the wrong behavior from the person she had wronged, so pointing this out is not petty. Would I come down quite so hard in person with a 7 year old girl? No. Gentleness is in order, especially with children. But still, if she was in my charge, she’d be going down to that store, making restitution, apologizing and asking for forgiveness in addition to confessing at church. In addition to teaching right from wrong, it’s important to teach how to right the wrongs you do commit, and let’s face it, we all do.
If her parent knew about it. I think this is out of the scope of this story.
The lesson learned is the internal discomfort in being Not Good. It really helped me. Everyone may feel differently, but it really helped me. Even though I was “bad” more, later, that lesson at 7 was reinforced by choosing wrong as a teen or young adult. 75% of the lesson was learned at 7.
And in my religion a child is not responsible to Gd for any sin they commit. There is a reason for it.
Learning what sin is, how to avoid it, and how to set it right as much as possible when you inevitably do sin, is a very important lesson of childhood, wouldn’t you agree?
Ignore the FR troll FRpers.
Best posting.
I disagree. At 7 years of age, children already know right from wrong. Ask any child of that age to describe the difference between the two. For that reason, the Catholic Church welcomes children to the Sacrament of Reconciliation at age 7 or 8.
A properly open and wise mind can learn from anyone or anything, at any time. An ant and a grasshopper can teach you much, if you have the wisdom to see.
A properly open and wise mind can learn from anyone or anything, at any time. An ant and a grasshopper can teach you much, if you have the wisdom to see.
Life lessons.
I would say they recognize that difference far younger.
Ever watch a two year old doing something they know they shouldn’t?
Although, that’s where the parents really need to step in and guide the child through the process of reconciling. I would not expect very many two year olds to have the maturity to fess up to wrong done and know what to do to make it right.
I think we have to disagree there just due to different religions. It is fine for Christians but for Jews we do not hold children (under 13 for boys, 12 for girls) responsible for their sins, but the parents are. It’s interesting to learn how you do it. I have definitely heard about how children take on more responsibility earlier. I’m ok with agreeing we disagree on that.
Definitely agree with what you said. And I think my experience proved it. As did the original story. Kids can and should learn good behavior from bad, and experience and think about them.
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