Owen is in his second year at a Catholic pre-school. Overall, we have been generally happy with his time there (although not so happy that we won't be packing him off to public school come next fall). Not having attended Catholic school myself, or even being Catholic for that matter, I have been interested, bemused and sometimes downright befuddled by the religious aspects of his pre-school education.
During the exciting weeks leading up to Christmas, for instance, we unloaded Owen’s backpack one day after school and found, among the usual two-inch thick pile of updates and fundraising pitches, a picture of Mary with a caption below that said “Mary is Jesus’ mother.” When you flipped the picture over, there was a picture of Joseph with a caption that said “Joseph is Jesus’ stepfather.” Now when you get right down to it, I suppose that is the technically correct term, but I had just never thought of it that way in all of my 41 plus years. Jesus was from a broken home? Jesus had an absentee father? I suppose you could say God is everywhere so he really wasn’t absent per se, but do you think with all he had to do, especially back then, that he was making it to every school play?? The whole thing conjures up images of a 16-year old Jesus, recently grounded yet again by Joseph after turning water into wine for he and his posse, yelling “Don’t tell me what to do, you’re not my real dad. My real Dad totally rules, and when he comes back for me, he’s gonna kick your ass! So go to Hell!”
Speaking of school plays, I attended my first during the recent Holiday season. How could I not, considering Owen had been promoted from his role as a cow in last year's Christmas production, all the way up to shepard this year (one of three shepards in the play, keeping watch over a single sheep, thereby creating a shepard to sheep ratio that the public schools could learn a thing or two from). He was outstanding, leading his two fellow shepards as they heartily shook Joseph's hand, mistakenly assuming, perhaps, that Joseph was Jesus’ father and congratulations were thus in order. By far the best part of the play was when the cast earnestly belted out some lyrics written by the teachers especially for the show to the tune of the old theme from Disney’s Davy Crockett. “Jesus, Baby Jesus, Born on Christmas Day.” Bit of a bad break for Jesus by the way, as every kid knows there is nothing worse than having your birthday so close to Christmas.
Most recently, and perhaps most bizarrely, this week Owen brought home what is allegedly a letter from God. The entire text is “Dear Owen, I Love You. God.” The I Love You is written in big white letters inside a large red heart – no God of fire and brimstone and eternal damnation at the old Catholic School apparently. Although it has been theorized that God might be a woman, it is not often assumed he/she is a junior-high aged girl. The “letter” is actually inside a fake airmail envelope, addressed simply to Owen and bearing the return address of “God, Heaven.” Not sure what the kids were told, but Owen was excitedly telling all of us that there is a post-office in Heaven. The stamp bears a picture of a single tree and gives no indication of what kind of currency they may use in Heaven. No postmark either. It would have been interesting to see whether it came through the branch office at the Vatican or, perhaps, was routed the long way through the sorting facility in Hell, which is definitely where I am headed for writing this post. Unless, of course, God Loves Me Too and I just don’t know yet because my letter is sitting in the Purgatory branch due to insufficient postage.
During the exciting weeks leading up to Christmas, for instance, we unloaded Owen’s backpack one day after school and found, among the usual two-inch thick pile of updates and fundraising pitches, a picture of Mary with a caption below that said “Mary is Jesus’ mother.” When you flipped the picture over, there was a picture of Joseph with a caption that said “Joseph is Jesus’ stepfather.” Now when you get right down to it, I suppose that is the technically correct term, but I had just never thought of it that way in all of my 41 plus years. Jesus was from a broken home? Jesus had an absentee father? I suppose you could say God is everywhere so he really wasn’t absent per se, but do you think with all he had to do, especially back then, that he was making it to every school play?? The whole thing conjures up images of a 16-year old Jesus, recently grounded yet again by Joseph after turning water into wine for he and his posse, yelling “Don’t tell me what to do, you’re not my real dad. My real Dad totally rules, and when he comes back for me, he’s gonna kick your ass! So go to Hell!”
Speaking of school plays, I attended my first during the recent Holiday season. How could I not, considering Owen had been promoted from his role as a cow in last year's Christmas production, all the way up to shepard this year (one of three shepards in the play, keeping watch over a single sheep, thereby creating a shepard to sheep ratio that the public schools could learn a thing or two from). He was outstanding, leading his two fellow shepards as they heartily shook Joseph's hand, mistakenly assuming, perhaps, that Joseph was Jesus’ father and congratulations were thus in order. By far the best part of the play was when the cast earnestly belted out some lyrics written by the teachers especially for the show to the tune of the old theme from Disney’s Davy Crockett. “Jesus, Baby Jesus, Born on Christmas Day.” Bit of a bad break for Jesus by the way, as every kid knows there is nothing worse than having your birthday so close to Christmas.
Most recently, and perhaps most bizarrely, this week Owen brought home what is allegedly a letter from God. The entire text is “Dear Owen, I Love You. God.” The I Love You is written in big white letters inside a large red heart – no God of fire and brimstone and eternal damnation at the old Catholic School apparently. Although it has been theorized that God might be a woman, it is not often assumed he/she is a junior-high aged girl. The “letter” is actually inside a fake airmail envelope, addressed simply to Owen and bearing the return address of “God, Heaven.” Not sure what the kids were told, but Owen was excitedly telling all of us that there is a post-office in Heaven. The stamp bears a picture of a single tree and gives no indication of what kind of currency they may use in Heaven. No postmark either. It would have been interesting to see whether it came through the branch office at the Vatican or, perhaps, was routed the long way through the sorting facility in Hell, which is definitely where I am headed for writing this post. Unless, of course, God Loves Me Too and I just don’t know yet because my letter is sitting in the Purgatory branch due to insufficient postage.
