Wasting my youth on the young

Trumpet blast! Theologienne is a catechist!

 

I'll be teaching confirmation class, which starts in seventh grade at the parish I've selected as my home (they'll be confirmed next fall.) This parish does the new family-centered model of religious education where both parents and kids recieve some formal education from the church, and parents are expected to do a certain amount of the teaching at home. I'm interested to see how that will work, especially in a sacramental class. Conventional wisdom has it that the ranks of religious education swell in Communion and Confirmation years, because while plenty of parents are concerned that their kids get a good faith formation, even more want to make sure they get all the sacraments taken care of. This education model might not work as well with parents who'd prefer to just drop their kids off and go drink coffee for an hour.

 

Also, I'm thinking a lot about how to approach kids this young, theology-wise. I was confirmed junior year of high school, and even then we were pretty darn callow. This parish has a good youth group that picks up where religious education leaves off, so there's less of a concern that people will fall away from the church after "finishing" their sacraments, but this might be their last hit of formal faith-thinking for a while. There is a curriculum, but I understand we're at liberty to make our own lesson plans.

 

As such, I'd joyfully welcome any suggestions for ideas I should emphasize. I'm stymied by how little I can remember of the theological concerns of my own seventh grade class, despite the sound Catholic school formation I do believe we got. Here's what I've come up with:

1) Sex.

2) Can pets go to heaven?

Pope Won't Say No, But Says "Oh"

Commonweal's blog points to a recent  interview with Pope Benedict, noting his determination to present Christianity as a "positive option" and to show how moral pronouncements of "no" stem from a series of deep "yeses." The Pope and I are in complete agreement on this approach, as I'm sure he'll be glad to know. People who are afraid of religion work to characterize it as a series of musn'ts. It's up to people of faith to show how a "no" to overconsumption is a "yes" to generosity, or a "no" to promiscuity is just the natural result of a joyful "yes" to fidelity.

 

Unfortunately, although the pope would prefer not to say "no," he doesn't seem to have a problem with "Oh, well." Asked about the need for increased visibility for women's leadership in the church, he reiterated the teaching against women's ordination and added, oddly, "But there's a juridical problem: according to Canon Law the power to take legally binding decisions is limited to Sacred Orders. So there are limitations from this point of view . . ."

 

Hmm, too bad there's nobody in the room with "the totality of legislative, executive, and judicial power" to alter canon law, huh?

 

Maybe the Pope needs to do like John Paul II, known for referencing himself in his own encyclicals, and ponder a comment he made elsewhere in this interview. How much time do we have, really? Eighty years? Ninety?  

 

"When you have so little time you can't say everything you want to say about "no."

For me, there is no action for justice without faith

For one of my classes I was asked to write about spiritual approaches and practices that "nourish your faith-based action on behalf of justice." This was perplexing, because I have a spiritual practice like I have a workout regimen--I do things that could fit into one, but any appearance of an overall guiding pattern is purely coincidental. Mostly, I nourish my spirituality by thinking about religious ideas. So this is how I responded.
 
"Eschatological" means mindful of the Reign of God. 
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I often wonder how people who don't have a faith-based, or specifically an eschatological, view of the world do social justice at all. Service is one thing: the rewards of helping another human being are wired into our brains. But work for systemic change, where you have to constantly remind yourself that because you are making spreadsheets, hustling donations, or kissing up to Senators, the world will become new? What a feat of will it takes to sustain that hope, even for someone taught to expect that Easter yearly returns. 
 
There are Catholics who extol the crucifix and don't want to see the resurrected Christ over their altars. They have a point: the security of forgiveness and renewal can make us lazy. What if we neglect the widow and the orphan: won't we still be forgiven? The answer is not to scare the faithful with the cross, but rather to paint a picture of hope running over into action. God's desire can make a better world, but that doesn't mean that we have no part in it. It is not because the women waited that Jesus rose, but because they waited, they were privileged to see it happen.
           
In fact, the only way I remain committed to action for justice is through my Catholic faith. Although I know from a student's standpoint that the Bible and the lectionary have both been touched by human hands and prejudices, there's no getting around the fact that on any given Sunday, you're likely to hear Jesus talking about the poor. Teaching the social outcasts and nomads who were his disciples about helping the poor. No excuses for them based on ability or station: Jesus was the consummate idealist. You are physically capable of taking this action, yes? I imagine him saying. Then why aren't you?
           
Sometimes prayer strengthens and sometimes it doesn't, and sometimes Scripture inspires and sometimes it seems to chide. That's when I allow myself to fall back on the Resurrection, when I don't have enough time or energy, or know too well that I could be doing more. The central message of my faith is one that workers for justice need to hear: that out of seeming tragedy and failure God has worked to change the world.