EVERY year around the feast of Pentecost our priests prepare the children for their First Holy Communion and Confirmation.
Our priest encourages us to pray for these children, their families and sponsors. That is so nice as the whole community is then involved by supporting their children for their receiving of these sacraments.
On the actual Confirmation day, our priest usually reminds us to think of our own Confirmation. I believe many people have nice memories of that day, but for me it is different.
I avoid thinking of my Confirmation because I usually cry as I remember the awful experience surrounding that special day.
During the war in Europe, the communist regime was very strong against the Church and clergy. In 1946, it was the first time in six years Confirmation was to be performed once again.
Our bishop decided to have the Confirmation ceremony outside the city where he was stationed. All other surrounding parishes were invited to bring their candidates to that appointed parish. Meanwhile, children from all ages were being prepared for this special day.
As public and private transport was not yet established, and to avoid the summer heat, my mother, sponsor and myself commenced our two-hour walk to the nominated parish early in the morning. It was when we arrived that my horror began.
Being through World War II where I was in concentration camps, I saw at a young age how people suffer. However, I could not understand why, after the war, the Communists still attacked the Church, clergy and our Catholic faith which is so precious to me.
Upon arrival, our gaze went in the same direction as did the few people who were standing outside the parish house. What we saw was horrible.
All the windows and doors were smashed, there were holes in the walls from bullets. However, the parish house was constructed from solid stone and, thank God, the bullets did not penetrate through to the inside of the parish house.
The people from that little town told us of the event from the previous evening.
A few local Communists came with guns and attacked the parish house with the intention of killing the bishop and priests who arrived that day. Both the bishop and priests were asleep at first and when these few Communists attacked the parish house, they sheltered themselves against a wall, underneath a window. Our poor bishop and priests couldn’t escape because the Communists were shooting all around the house.
There they laid down under the windows, shivering, waiting until the attackers left. Thank God no one was hurt physically, but what was in the hearts of this bishop, priests and neighbours was unimaginable from that evening.
The Confirmation was to continue, so we all climbed the 25 to 30 steps to the church. When we reached there, another horror faced us. A huge stone was placed in front of the main church door to prevent the faithful from entering. We all looked at each other, there were no words, only tears that rolled down our cheeks that showed our feelings.
That was an awful experience for my young age to bear. I think I was in shock as I can’t remember how we finally entered the church. Besides all this, Mass and Confirmation proceeded.
Seeing the bishop so pale, I felt his suffering and was so sorry for him. I wanted so much to tell him that we loved him and were suffering with him but I was too shy to express my feelings to anybody, let alone to the bishop.
I wrote this true story to encourage all to pray for our bishops and priests. In our times, bishops and priests may not be physically attacked but are so often badly criticised by many. Let’s show them our love and care by praying for them.
With our prayers we can help them carry their crosses. May God bless our bishops, priests and candidates who will be confirmed around this time.
On a final note, I was puzzled for the last 50 years as to how the Communists rolled that huge stone up so many stairs without any equipment (except for their guns)? My answer came when I went back home for a holiday four years ago.
My brother took me to that same church. As we walked around I saw that the church was on a slope and a hill was at the back. Here is where I saw many stones similar to the one that was rolled down in front of the church doors back in 1946. My puzzlement was finally solved.
But how many men would have been needed to roll that stone and were there that many men? I will never know.
“Give thanks to the Lord, for He is good. His love is everlasting.”
IVANKA BICANIC Kedron, Qld
