Pentecost

Thirty years ago, I received my Confirmation. Despite the pomp and circumstance, that day was memorable.

Growing up Catholic, I received my Baptism when I was an infant; Penance and First Holy Communion at the age of seven, without choice.

At 12/13, we were given the choice if we truly wanted to follow Christ. 

In a Jewish neighborhood, many saw Confirmation as the "Catholic Bar-/Bat-Mitzvah." There would be a ceremony, then a big party afterwards with lots of presents. Many of my classmates, I admit, just went with the flow. This was what our parents expected.

While I dutifully added my name to the list, as my mom would badger me non-stop until I did, I understood during the studies that for the first time, I was making the first active choice to follow Christ.

I read about different saints and asked God why such Wonders did not happen in my life.

In looking for signs that were not to be, I missed those that surrounded me, even Confirmation day.

The day was bright, sunny and VERY windy. My mother and aunt fussed over my hair, as the wind tossed it before pictures.

Inside the church, we heard the wind's howl clearly, as it increased steadily to the homily, just before the students lined up to receive their Confirmation. The wind buffeted the building noisily.

Then the building - made of brick - shook from the wind!

Over the rumble, the Bishop paused and looked around the building, perhaps wondering if it was safe to be under the cathedral ceiling and thick oaken beams two and a half stories over our heads.

Then he mentioned, in a somewhat quieter voice, that the building the disciples were in on Pentecost Sunday also shook - just before they received the Holy Spirit.

I will be the first to admit, there were no tongues of flame and the assembled students did not become human candlesticks.

Part of it was like a play, we had our lines memorized and rehearsed. We performed a liturgical dance. And we had oil smeared on our foreheads as our sponsors gripped our shoulder in a vice to make sure we had our best side to the cameras.

It was a Ceremony, with a capital "C."

As a shy girl who prefers hiding behind books, I was also the smallest in my class, and thus the first to go up. This was a nightmare!

But right afterwards...

... There was Peace. There was a bit more confidence.

I didn't leave the church preaching in tongues, but there WAS something in that simple acceptance - in confirming that I WILL follow Christ in this life - that rooted itself deep in my soul.

Like the bamboo, it took many years of growth below the surface. Now I see its results grow in leaps and bounds. When I open my heart, the Spirit within SINGS!

Tomorrow is Pentecost Sunday, when the first Pentecost  is celebrated.

Will you accept the Holy Spirit into your life too?

I continue to do so.

It makes the difference.

:D