In second grade, all the children had their first communion, dressing up like tiny brides and grooms for their first taste of the body and blood of Christ. Shortly after, they’d have their first confessions, sliding into a dark booth to recite their childish sins to a man who could offer them a chore list of prayers meant to earn the forgiveness of God. And in high school, they’d been confirmed into the faith, which is basically signing a contract that says, “Yeah, I’ve looked over the purchase agreement, and this all looks great to me. Sign me up for a lifetime of Catholicism.”
