Christian Compassion

I am a confirmed Catholic. It happened early in high school, the culmination of Sunday evenings dedicated to CCD (the Confraternity of Christian Doctrine). My memories of CCD are mostly a swirl of jokes with friends, attempts to talk with girls, and adults' complaints about missed football games on TV. Not much Father, Son, or Holy Ghost.

In the final year, my group's instructor was the father of a classmate. He focused on making the lessons relevant to our pre-teen and teen lives. Since Everlast's "Put Your Lights On" played on the radio all the time, he decided to analyze how the lyrics related to Christianity. I wasn't a fan of Everlast, but I appreciated the gesture.

Back then, three friends and I had our own band, Conformity Crisis. I thought the name was awesome, even though I didn't come up with it. During one Sunday, the teacher went around the table to ask what we thought about confirmation. When my turn arrived, I said something like: "I think it's stupid because it's just the church trying to get us all to think and act the same. Like, look at the word 'confirmation.' It even means conformity!" That was the crux of my rebellious rant - my false belief that the two words meant the same thing.

This argument fit right into my angsty thinking and made me feel cool. I even remember the other group members thinking I was cool for saying it, and then getting behind me. Now, if I were that teacher I would have found a dictionary and figuratively smashed that kid's smug face. But looking back, my ego and social identity had a lot riding on that argument. And though the teacher didn't agree with me, he didn't squash me either. I remember he told me, softly, that I should look those two words up; they may not mean what I think they do. Then we moved on to the next person.