Deacon Greg writes on confirmation names:
Young people still choose a confirmation name, a patron saint to model themselves after, and to give them inspiration. (I picked Peter for mine — one of the names that my mother had considered for me when I was born.) Over and over, they came forward as their sponsors announced the names. Francis. Elizabeth. Veronica. John. I found it unexpectedly moving. And I realized: here, before my eyes, was the communion of saints. Here is what we all aspire to become. Here was something so full of promise – a new chapter being written in the lives of these young Catholics. “Behold,” as we hear in Revelation today, “I make all things new.”
I love the part about the communion of saints and how we aspire to be like them. But I began to think about a few things. What do I remember from my own confirmation, some 27 (yikes!) years ago?
Well, I actually remember a lot. Some basics and some uniqueness:
1) I took Francis as my confirmation name because my father is also Michael Francis Hayes. My father also served as my sponsor, which is unusual, but I didn’t really have anyone else that I wanted to serve in that role and the name thing kinda made it relevant in my mind.
2) I was in 7th grade and because I went to Catholic School that year I got to make confirmation a year earlier than the students I had attended public school with.
3) I was also a mess. Three days before my confirmation I took a slide on the playground and tore up my knee and face and bruised my upper lip. (“You should’ve seen the other guy” was my line to the Bishop.)
4) Bishop Joseph Pernicone was presider–an auxillary of the Archdiocese of New York.
5) I remember that nobody would raise their hand to answer the one question that the Bishop asked. “Why would the feast of Pentecost be an appropriate day for Confirmation?” We all probably knew the answer but nobody wanted to seem like the “religious guy.” Looking back, I wish I had the bravery to stand up and give that answer now. But it also makes me more sensitive to the students I serve now, especially when I press them to “come out” as Catholics.
6) I even remember that I stood next to Will Kopps, who was quite a baseball player, even at that age. As an aside, I also remember the graduate league baseball game we had that weekend where we were up a run and someone hit me a ground ball at first base, I corralled the ball nicely and tossed to Will, the pitcher who promptly dropped it. The tying run scored. The next guy hit a shot into center field to drive home the winning run. I was blamed for the loss because I could’ve taken the ball to the bag myself. It was there that I realized that Will could do no wrong–even when he did.
I’m still not quite over that.
But the point is that that week I did a lot of growing up. I learned that sometimes we have to stand up when it’s unpopular. I learned that sometimes those with gifts often get a free pass and others are unjustly blamed for mistakes they didn’t make. I learned that you have to have a thick skin sometimes when others want to kill you.
And I learned that I need to be a lot more like my gentle father, whose name I took that week forever.
And who continues to proudly stand by me, as his son.