Starting
Point
Never too young for the gift of guilt
By JANELLE LAZZO
It was a bright afternoon in early
fall. My youngest son and I had just come home from kindergarten -- where he
was a student and I was a helper -- and I was fixing lunch when I heard it.
Overhead, he was pacing. Back and forth, up and down, across the
floor of the bedroom above me. I listened for a moment, puzzled, but I knew it
couldnt be anyone else. We were the only two at home.
I hesitated, then knocked lightly on his door jamb.
Honey, I said, whats wrong?
He didnt look up, just shook his head miserably and kept on
walking.
What is it? I insisted. Again, no answer.
Are you in trouble at school? He shook his head.
Please tell me whats bothering you. I entered
the room, crossed to him and touched his shoulder.
I cant.
Of course you can. You can tell me anything.
No, he said. I dont want you to
know.
Have you done something wrong?
He looked up. Yes, he said.
Well, could you tell Daddy about it when he gets
home?
His whole body seemed to shake. I dont want him to
know either.
Is this something that would make Jesus sad? I was
fishing now.
He gave a vigorous nod, and sat down on his bed, dejection causing
his little shoulders to drop.
Feeling helpless, I looked at him, only 5 years old and so
distraught. I needed to help him, but how?
Suddenly it came to me. I know someone you could tell,
I said. Someone who could help you make things right with Jesus, but who
wouldnt tell anyone else -- not even me and Daddy. Would that
help?
He looked surprised and brightened a bit. Yes, he
said.
OK, then, I said. I sat down beside him.
The church offers us a sacrament -- its called
reconciliation, which means making things right with someone. Thats just
what it does. It helps us to ask for forgiveness when we have done something
that has made Jesus sad.
Usually when children are in second grade they seem to be
ready for it. But I think maybe you need it today.
I put my arm around him and went on. Any priest has the
privilege of hearing a confession. When he does it, he is with us in
Jesus place. We can tell him what we have done wrong, and he can pass on
Jesus forgiveness to us, and never tell anyone what we said. Although you
might remember it and feel bad that it happened, no one else will ever
know.
He was thinking it over, I could see. I went on.
Its up to you, I said, but when I am
feeling bad about something wrong Ive done, it always makes me feel
better to go to confession. Would you like to try it?
Yes, he said.
OK then. Lets go down to church and see if we can find
Father.
I still remember the walk down to the parish church at the end of
our block, his small trusting hand clasped in mine. We didnt talk. I was
praying as hard as I could that we would find a confessor for this little soul.
The churchs interior was dark as we came in from the bright
sunlight, but as our eyes adjusted, I saw a figure kneeling in one of the pews
-- a priest I knew well from the nearby Jesuit college.
Thats Father Schmitt, I told my little boy.
He is very nice, and very close to Jesus. Shall I ask him to help
us?
He nodded.
Fr. Schmitts eyes smiled as I explained our request. He
squeezed my hand as I explained that my child was really too young for formal
confession.
One is never too young to feel sorry for wrongdoing,
he said. Guilt is a gift.
Guilt is a gift! I had time to wonder how many adults would agree
with that as I knelt far back in the church and watched the drama of
forgiveness take place before me.
Hair of iron-gray and blond curls pressed close together as the
two sat on the marble step in front of Marys altar.
I could see that Father would ask a question, and the child would
nod or shake his head, and sometimes give an answer. The interchange took
several minutes as I knelt, watching and being grateful for the
accident that had placed the confessor there.
Then it was done. Both figures rose, the tall and the small.
Father gave my son a big hug, and down the center aisle the child came,
skipping. Skipping! His face was lightened by his smile.
Lets go, he said happily when he got to me. We
went. We did not speak of it on the way home, or even after that. Since that
day, I have had the pleasure of watching that little boy become a man.
He is a good man, a salesman -- with a strong sense of right and
wrong that will not let him misrepresent his product, even when to do so just a
little would help make the sale.
I just cant do it, he will say. It just
wouldnt feel right.
I have pondered, too, Fr. Schmitts statement that
guilt is a gift, when in the world today the Eleventh Commandment
seems to be Thou shalt not get caught -- and if you do, deny or put
the blame on someone else.
I have thought about how the world would be transformed if
everyone in it, from the leaders on down, when they made a mistake, even a big
one, would say, I did it, it was wrong, and I am sorry. I think
there would be a lot more smiling, and maybe even some skipping.
Janelle Lazzo writes from Roeland Park, Kan.
National Catholic Reporter, October 23,
1998
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