The Catholic Spirit has recently asked readers to share a vivid memory from their first Communion or confirmation, and what that memory means for them now. Readers also were encouraged to share, “What does it mean to you to truly ‘create a culture of life’?” in light of a U.S. Supreme Court decision expected this spring on Dobbs v. Jackson Women’s Health Organization. The following is a selection of responses.
I had two first Communions. My family and I were parishioners in St. Columba parish in St. Paul in the early to middle 1950s. At that time, St. Columba had two first Communions: A private Communion for the second graders — a very low-key event for the child and his/her immediate family. The parents/immediate family were responsible for preparing their second grader to receive First Communion. There was no announcement made in the Sunday bulletin or from the pulpit. When the child was deemed ready, he/she went up for Communion, accompanied by the family. The public Communion was for the third-graders: boys in suits, girls in white dress/veil. I went to kindergarten through second grade at St. Columba so I had Private Communion there. The next year we moved into St. Mark’s parish in St. Paul for my third grade and had my traditional Communion, wearing white dress/veil. I liked the private Communion better: my parents, both sets of grandparents and my godparents were all involved in preparing me to receive the Lord Jesus for the first time. It was intensely personal. I was so blessed to have six adults in my immediate family circle who lived and loved their Catholic faith and the sacraments and joyously shared that faith with me.
Maureen O’Brien
St. Louis King of France, St. Paul
My family lived in the Midway area of St. Paul and we belonged to St. Columba parish, where I attended grade school. I made my first Communion in 1942, and in the fourth grade, we made our solemn Communion. It was cloudy and starting to rain as we lined up to walk in procession to the church. We went in the side entrance of the school, down steps to a tunnel that led us under the boys’ playground and into the lower church. The tunnel was dark, with only a couple of light bulbs along the way. We went up the steps to the upper main altar. The girls sat on one side of the church in white dresses and veils; the boys sat on the other side, wearing suits and ties. We knelt as we received Communion. One song I remember during the Mass was “Jesus, Jesus, Come to Me.” Afterwards, pictures were taken, and then it was over.
Kathleen (McFadden) Anderson
St. Joseph, West St. Paul
This is not about my first Communion but about my daughter’s. It left me with a lasting image of God’s grace to us when we need it in times of trouble. I was teaching full time, working with at-risk students. I loved the students as my own children, but received a lot of criticism from my supervisors for the way I was instructing them. At the same time, I was taking two night courses to finish my MS degree in counseling. Needless to say, I was under a lot of stress. My daughter’s first Communion was rapidly approaching and I hadn’t bought her a dress yet. I wondered when I would get the time. My teaching assistant offered me her daughter’s beautiful white dress made by a California designer. She said her daughter would not need it. It was lovely and fit my daughter without any alterations. I made a veil for her and she was all set for the special day. And I will always thank God for coming to my aid during such a difficult time. The dress became a symbol of God’s care for me and my daughter.
Joan Homstad
St. Ambrose, Woodbury
A culture of life means we support those things that contribute to quality of life: housing, healthcare and education, just to name a few. It means paying people a living wage. It means supporting common-sense gun laws that could reduce the number of deaths by firearms, whether they are unintentional or suicides. It means shifting from a model of criminal punishment to restorative justice, working to rehabilitate people who have broken a law and not continue to punish them after they’ve served their time. It means showing mercy and rejecting the death penalty. It’s fine to defend unborn babies, but if you turn your back on them the minute they take their first breath, if you blame them for being poor, if you make them feel like the “other” vs. helping them feel a sense of belonging, then you have failed at respecting life from conception until natural death.
Leah Kondes
Our Lady of Peace, Minneapolis
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