Growing up as a Catholic, there is a sacrament that each of us kids would receive after our baptism and before our first Confession. It was the Sacrament of Fundraising. Little is spoken about this sacrament, where the Holy Spirit descends upon the school principal, who then is moved (along with the school board) into administering this most fundamental and crucial rite in the Church.
That it is a purely Catholic thing I am sure about. I have never seen any other denomination practice this rite. If the Mormons were to do this instead of their two-year missionary stint, they’d put the Catholics out of business. Such are the mysterious ways of God.
When I was a kid back in 1970, I attended Holy Cross Catholic School in Deerfield, Illinois. It was right before we did our Little House on the Prairie move out to Woodstock and so, admittedly I was a suburbanite for a few precious years of my life. As a first grader at the school, we were summoned into an assembly for the sacred rite of Fundraising. The principal (with the parish priest there as backup) announced how we were going to go door-to-door, offering bags of Halloween Candy for sale. The candy was in a plastic bag, shaped to act as a hand puppet and with a smiling pumpkin goblin on the front. For any of us kids, it was like giving crack to an addict and telling them to go out there and sell it all. And this is important because part of this sacrament is all about self-control, which I will get to later. Also, the principal announced, this would be a competition. Whoever sold the most candy would get a big prize. It was then that the sacred ritual became a bit more complicated in its interpretation. The very word catholic is “all-embracing” in its meaning. Sort of like “we are all in this together” sort of thing. But not when it came to this very important sacrament. It was where the Church encourages you to “go-for-it” and like those 12 apostles, fight for the right to sit next to Jesus, or in this case, to sit on a 10 speed Schwinn bike!
Us McCormack brothers knew we would never win this contest. For we were many in number already and our dad was a dentist. We couldn’t count on him because of both reasons. We knew right away that other families, with fewer kids, or even one kid, whose dad was, say, a lawyer, were in a better position to help administer the sacrament. Those dads would sigh, open their billfold and buy the entire lot of candy from their kid. What was done with that candy is not really known. And I am sure there are cellars in Deerfield that still have bags of this stuff, dusty and waiting for the American Picker guys to discover the cache.
There were the kids who were crack addicts. They would eat bags of the candy and eventually fess up to their folks. They would boast about it on the playground the next day. The act of buying all your kids candy is like an indulgence. An expiation of your kid enjoying of the seven deadly sins was OK, as long as the money was paid.
We didn’t have it as easy. Mom would make us McCormack boys go out in a group and sell the stuff. That was self-defeating too, as we were technically brother-against-brother in this whole scheme. Cain and Abel’s squabble was nothing compared to the squabbling and jostling to get candy sold.
So, we went door to door and if we looked despondent enough, we might get a bag or two sold.
The final part of this sacrament was the “Humiliation of the Unsold.” At the assembly we would have to bring back anything we did not sell. It always seemed like we McCormack boys were lugging in a mound of the stuff, the sound of the candy bags hitting the wood floor reverberating through a silent, shaming gym. That my parents sent all 10 of us kids through Catholic school didn’t matter. It was sell, sell, sell or go to hell. And we would watch sullenly as little Brad Whatsnowski would ride away on another heavily paid for10 speed Schwinn.
Moving to Woodstock didn’t change this sacrament. All through my 12 years of Catholic education, we had the yearly ritual. Truthfully, the money raised went to a good cause. Scholarships, sanding the floor of the auditorium. It was no mystery that our schools operated on a shoestring and this was one way of helping ends meet. Just purchasing enough vomit dust for Mr. Parker cleaning up after Andy Johnson’s daily purge in 5th grade was important enough.
And even though the candy changed from Halloween candy to “The World’s Finest Chocolate” that nobody ever heard of, the idea of getting out there and getting this done was a chore that I looked to with loathing and despair. As always, there would be a grand prize of a 10 speed Schwinn bike. And always, some kid would ride around the gym, as we befuddled kids would wonder how in the hell he managed to sell 45 cases of the stuff.
The sacrament still continues. My daughter runs in a scholarthon today. The idea is that this is to raise $25,000 for school scholarships for kids whose families may not be able to afford the tuition. It’s a noble idea and a transparent one. And I know some of the families that have benefitted from such help and they are fine families and a good addition to the school. They help make it all a little more catholic and so, I am happy to help.
Fundraising has now taken on a slicker feel, with businesses that offer their services to help organize, market, promote and celebrate the ritual. So Aine’s run today will be an event. All kids participating will get something for their effort. I am sure conservative Catholics will hate another loosening of the rules. What next? A 10 speed for every kid?
Anyhow, here is the link to Aine’s page. Yes, a fundraising page. And, if you help out, you’ll be doing a mitzvah, another angel in heaven will get his wings and you'll be catholic.
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