Honest Question. “When was the last time you received the Eucharist?”
Parents, Father Gerber has 4 questions for you.
By Father Anthony Gerber:
Questions in the Confessional
For the first couple years as a priest, I would go through the usual
Lenten ritual of sitting in the confessional for hours at a time,
hearing various parishes kids’ confessions during school—whether Day
School or PSR/CCD. And every year, I would hear the same litany of sins:
“I was mean to my brother; I lied; I didn’t do what my mom told me to
do; I said a bad word; and… I didn’t go to Mass.”
As a young priest, I wasn’t yet jaded to simply chalk this up to the typical child’s confession. So, a little surprised that
a child didn’t go, I asked a simple question: “Why didn’t you go to Mass?”
Are Your Children Crying in the Confessional?
And the kids would answer in one of three ways: “Because I had a
[sporting event/vacation]”; “Because we slept in”; or (and most
frequently): “Because my parents don’t take me.”
“Because my parents don’t take me.”
I would hear that answer a lot. And what really struck me about
this—what really shook me to the core—was not simply the frequency that
this was said, but that most of the children were saying this with a
deep sorrow in their heart and a deep longing to go to Mass. They knew
they were supposed to be at Mass and they thought that
they themselves
were to blame for their not going. They didn’t yet realize that if
their parents didn’t take them, then it wasn’t their (the kids’ fault),
but the parents.
Quietly, there began to develop a righteous anger in me at the
parents and a desire to “propose” certain questions to our parents,
questions such as “Do you realize the impact you are having? Do you
realize the sorrow that you are bringing to your child’s heart?”
But those questions I kept to myself. And the anger I brought to
prayer and the tempering that experience would likely bring. Maybe I had
an oversight; maybe I was being harsh and not compassionate. My anger
subsided into a kind of pity for the whole situation.
Cultivating Indifferent Consciences
That is, until last year. Last year, I started to notice that, by the
time the kids were in the seventh grade, they would confess this sin of
missing Holy Mass with a kind of nonchalance. They would go through
their litany of sins, but totally dispassionate. Some would even confess
with a smile on their face.
[ii] Why was this? During their earlier years, they confessed this with sorrow. But now, with lukewarmness? Why?
I started to think about this and I came to the following reason: at
some point during the past few years, the child felt that she had to
choose. She felt, in her limited and child-like understanding of things,
that she had to choose between God and parent: to love God and upset
the parents or to love parents and hope that God would be ok with
not-choosing Him.
It’s a child’s hope. But it is a hope that easy devolves into
presumption. And presumption accounts for the disappearance of the
sorrow. If God doesn’t mind if we miss Mass, then why should we feel
sorrow for it?
This presumption would further devolve into indifference when the
child realizes that her parents—the parents whom she chose over God—are
indifferent to Holy Mass.
So, by the time the child is in seventh grade, she sees both God and
parents as indifferent to Holy Mass. Conclusion: Mass couldn’t be
that important as to call missing it a “sin”—much less a sin to be sorry about.
By the example of their parents and by the love the children have for
them, the kids’ consciences were slowly killed—and with it, any sense
of sin and sorrow for it.
Questioning the Indifference
At which point, I was angry again. But it wasn’t a righteous anger at
the parents. It was an anger of helplessness. I didn’t see how this
situation could possibly be remedied without some kind of miracle. I was
angry that there had been decades of indifference and that it seemed as
though no one had done anything about it.
So I tried doing something about it: invitations to confessions,
hearing confessions more, treating it as important, teaching on the Holy
Mass, etc. I even—when giving the kids their penance—I even told them
to offer prayers for their parents.
And there was some improvement. But I was still very much swimming against the stream.
I too was tempted to think that maybe this is just how things are and
maybe this is all part of the whole becoming a “smaller Church” thing
that Pope Benedict had talked about.
Until this year.
This year, I heard confessions all throughout the Archdiocese. And I
had long ago stopped asking why kids were missing Sunday Mass. I knew
the answer to that question. But I started asking a new question:
When was the last time you received the Eucharist?
That’s a different question. And that’s a whole lot different than
simply asking about whether one is going to Mass. This question puts the
crosshairs square on the target: on receiving Jesus.
When was the last time you received Jesus?
Indifferent Answers and Answering Indifference
I wasn’t ready for the answers I received. On average, fourth and
fifth graders have not received Jesus since their first holy communion…
in second grade. That’s two to three years without receiving Jesus.
[iii]
I wasn’t angry any more. I was sad. I was deeply sad for the kids who haven’t had Jesus for two or more years.
When the seventh and eighth graders started coming to me for
confessions, I started to ask them the same question: when was the last
time you received the Eucharist. For the vast majority, it had been over
a year. For some, it had been a full five years—again, since first
communion.
Some seventh and eighth graders would smile as they told me that. At which point I would echo their answer:
it has been five years since you have received Jesus.
And I added a new question:
Isn’t that sad?
Immediately, their conscience—just as it was way back when—was alive
again. Every single one admitted that it was sad. Lukewarmness became
sorrow again. And they missed Jesus. They knew it.
And maybe that might be seen as mean of me. But I am trying to keep
their consciences alive. Trying to keep alive the notion that Mass is
important. A notion that is being killed Sunday after Sunday by the
example of their parents.
Trying to Find Answers to the Usual Questions
A couple years ago, I did an (anonymous) study at a Catholic
day-school. I asked seventh graders a few questions. Those questions
were:
1) How often do you go to Mass?
2) When was the last time you went to Holy Mass?
3) When was the last time you went to Sunday Mass?
4) How often do you go to Sunday Mass? [options: every Sunday, once a month, twice a year, twice a year or less, never]
Every child said that they went to Mass every week. On “Tuesday”
(which was the day the kids went at school). 30% said they had gone to
Mass in the last month. 70% said they go to Mass twice a year or less or
never.
I did the same survey with the PSR/CCD program. And the results—save
the part about going to Mass every week at school—were the same.
That probably would shock most day-school parents. It shocks every
engaged couple that I’m preparing for marriage. Every time, the engaged
couple says, “That’s odd. I thought that day school families would be
going to Mass more than the PSR families. Seems like a waste of money
otherwise.”
The natural question to ask here is: Why?
Why—not only why day-school and PSR families’ sacramental lives are
nearly the same (despite one group spending thousands of dollars on the
particular parish school), but also why some have the erroneous
perception that day-school families are more faithful than PSR families.
A few months ago, I stopped asking why people aren’t going to Mass.
After all, the answers to that question are usual and somewhat obvious:
liturgical banality, secularization and frenetic pace of life, lack of
examples of integrity of life and joy of faith, the killing of
conscience, etc.
And I’ve learned that, sometimes, when we ask the same questions and
get the same answers, maybe it is time to ask new questions.
I’ve also stopped asking questions about what I should do about it. Because, it’s not a matter of what I should do,
it’s a matter of what people think they should do about it. And, right now, 70% of day-school and PSR parents believe this is not something to do anything about.
My 4 Questions for Parents
So, like Lent, different questions should be asked before we embark
on projects that we think will solve the problem. But they are questions
that I do not ask myself, but I think we should ask the parents. I’ve
answered them for myself already. It is now time for parents to answer
them. Here they are:
- parents, do you know that you children cry in my confessional because you are not taking them to Mass?
- parents, do you know that your seventh-grade child has a killed conscience, the victim of indifference?
- parents, do you know that if you continue in the way you are going,
you will not see your kids married in the Church, they will likely not
have kids, and all of this time and money you are spending is really
wasted?
- And parents, isn’t that… sad?
Maybe the parents’ consciences were killed long ago too. Maybe an
examination is in order—an examination with questions meant to clarify
and purify.
Maybe then we can ask the next logical question, which is: What should we do about it?
Jesus
humbly enters Jerusalem riding on a donkey. He knows that many of the
same people who welcome Him with great joy will in a few days being
crying our for His crucifixion and death – but He also knows that He is
doing His Father’s will and nothing will impede His faithful fulfilling
of it.
