The Things We Carry

I am currently looking for my next job. I'm moving back to Chicago to start graduate school part-time. I'm leaving my job and my current school community, and I need to find a new community in which I can do my ministry.

Leaving has never been really hard for me. I guess I have solid control on my emotions - sometimes good, sometimes bad. I love a good cry, but it takes something quite intense or a factor of surprise to bring out my tears. Leaving my high school, leaving London, leaving each summer of Notre Dame Vision, leaving my beloved Folk Choir, leaving Notre Dame, leaving Ireland...

I've had to do a lot of leaving. Not to be trite, but Semisonic was on to something when they said, "Every new beginning comes from some other beginning's end." I've always been aware of the finiteness of those experiences - of the four-year progression of school, of the development and subsequent sending forth, or fraction rite, of a community, of loving but leaving a certain place. The joy and love of each piece to that puzzle endures in pictures and videos. It lasts even more strongly in memories. Yet the greatest vestiges of those places, people, and communities live on in my life of faith.

Each chapter of my formation sowed seeds for the future while harvesting the seeds from my past. That reality doesn't eliminate emotion, but it places it in right proportion. I could leave each place, each community with an enormous grin, fueled by deep-seeded joy because I knew I would carry those people and experiences in my heart. I didn't have to cling to things lost, or grasp after fleeting reality. The specific times and places may pass, but the impact they had in developing me lasts.

I felt this most acutely when I got the chance to direct my first retreat. In October, I directed a two-night, 36-hourish Junior Retreat. It'd be up to me to keep us on track, catalyze the creation of the proper atmosphere, and kind of "emcee" the thing. As I moved through the pieces of the retreat, re-gathering the group for talks, finding ways to transition between things, and wanting to let my true self to show through, I realized, in a beautiful way, that I am a conglomerate of those people who I had seen in leadership along my way: the unabashed catechesis of Tim O, the utilization of viral videos for spiritual renewal of Lenny, the reflective use of guitar of Steve, the comfortable awkwardness of John, the attention to detail of Jess, the friendly relatability of Betsy, the meditative guidance of Jimmy...

As a minister, as a teacher, as a person, I am the product of those people who have impacted me, from my parents and brothers to those who have ministered to me. The benevolent love and grace of God follows me everywhere. It didn't restrict itself to St. Viator or Notre Dame or Clonard or Xavier.

The temptation we have at Notre Dame, or in any community which nourishes us in faith, is to cling to it. We want to have more and more of the good things. We want to stay at Notre Dame. The sustenance is so great; why leave it behind? We wrestle with the allure of ACE, of Notre Dame Law, of AR posts, of internships and staff positions, of finding a job in South Bend, of infinite dorm masses and basilica and grotto trips. Sometimes staying on is a welcome stepping stone toward post-grad dreams or a fitting gap year before diving headlong into career aspirations; other times, it's the fear of the unknown, of the beyond, or a reach for the metaphorical snooze button.

Whether you clung to Notre Dame or cut the cord (or, like me, did a little of both), the important thing is that the Church we found in a most colorful way at Our Lady's University is a truly global church. The very word which describes our faith means universal. The reach of the Body of Christ is not limited by time or space. The faithfulness and zeal that we find at Notre Dame exists elsewhere in the world.

It may be less vibrantly visible; it may take some looking; it may not be as readily available. But you betcha it's out there.

Each time you leave a place, a job, a community, you risk not being able to get it as good as you had it. But we are an Easter people. Jesus defeated death. His victory permeates everything. It makes us the people of faith, hope, and love, which necessitates optimism, even if realistic optimism. You can doubt the prospects of gainful employment, the ability to pull in a certain salary, the likelihood of finding new friends, but you cannot the doubt the strength of our Church, the community of Christ that is found everywhere and anywhere.

I got to Ireland after leaving Notre Dame and found a priest with firy opinions of what our Church needs to do better, a family of fervent prayer and faith in a culture readily forsaking it, and a community of humble Vincent de Paul volunteers bringing help to those in need. I came to California and found a high school preaching a counter-cultural message of care for the whole person, of spiritual formation alongside college preparations, of community and fellowship beyond the classroom. Now I return to Chicago, to family, to a school that desires to form people theologically and ministerially, and to a yet unknown job...

Maybe most important of all, I have found potential employers who spoke the language. I found a retreat director in Wisconsin who valued community and frank, open conversation. I found a principal and a campus minister in SoCal who actively encourage tensions, constant discernment, and the agitation of shallow comforts and complacency. I found a principal in Illinois who seeks to give his kids intellectual, spiritual, and professional formation, all in one school. I found another principal in Indiana who wants a campus minister with a real vision that will further invigorate the faith family at her school.

Notre Dame and Holy Cross certainly provide a unique flavor and intensity of faith formation. But we are silly and narrow-sighted to focus too much on that, just like Jesuit alumni are missing out when they fixate of Ignatian spirituality. The best way to develop any stance is to expose it to new, different environments. Our Catholic faith deepens and broadens when we take it from where we're at to where we're going, from our home parish, from our alma mater, from the place we live or work now, to the place we may end up going.

We don't need to all be missionaries, jumping from one thing to another in search of the next big thing. We don't all need to suddenly forsake our routines or comfort zones or the status quo. However, we do need to readily embrace the unknown, the step ahead, the new thing. We need to consider going to that Taize Prayer service that happens every week down the road. We need to consider working in a Jesuit school, even if we've never experienced it before. We need to try Adoration, even if it's intimidating. We need to go to daily Mass once in a while. We need to give our local parish a chance, and consider how we can help, even if that church in the next town over seems more appealing.

For my current job, our students go on retreat at a mountain ranch. The high altitude, the fogs and mists, the clear, clean air, the starry skies, the woodsy wilderness - it all creates a special world. Their temptation is to want to stay forever, to sustain this community they've created by never leaving that place. I remind them that the goodness they've shared and received from one another isn't confined to that place. It's something quite sustainable and realistic. It doesn't require the establishment of a mountainous utopia. It requires the courage and trust to carry the changes you experience with you as you go on.

The universality of the Church, the infinite reach of Christ, gathers us together in this way. Don't be afraid of leaving what you know. You always carry with you those things that have shaped your heart. The power of formation comes when we share our formation with others and receive theirs in turn.

I Writes the Applications

For those of you who I haven't been able to catch up with, I am moving back to Chicago this summer. My girlfriend, Katherine, is starting graduate school at DePaul's School of Nursing. I will be starting a part-time MA at Catholic Theological Union. As part of this transition, I have leave my wonderful job as a campus minister/theology teacher/coach out here in California and look for my next wonderful job in Chicagoland. As I assemble materials to submit to high schools, universities, and parishes, I have had to do some serious reflecting to articulate who I am, what I believe, what I love and am passionate about, etc.

Below I share with you my responses to some questions I've answered for job applications. Hopefully, some of my amateur insights resonate with you in some way...

Identify two to three skills or tools you view as essential to being an effective educator. Provide reasons to support your response.

Compassionate patience: As a theology teacher at a Catholic school, I find students to be skeptical and critical of me by default. They seem to have a generational inclination toward doubting the benevolence of organized religion. They cling stubbornly to the fallacy of relativism. They see people misusing, abusing, and otherwise poorly practicing their religions. I have to work with/against this. Deep down, I hope they will find resonance with the teachings of the Church and feel inclined toward Catholic faith. Realistically, I am just aiming to communicate Catholic values to them in a way they can understand; I frequently tell them, "I don't need you to agree with this, but I need you to understand it." Hoping for faith and working for faith/religious literacy in the midst of skepticism requires a lot of patience and great compassion. It does not mean I should let them think whatever they want. It means I must move gently, challenge their faulty understandings, their flimsy opinions, and their ungrounded objections with grace.

Relatability: I have to be credible. If students view me as being out of touch, as not understanding what they are going through as teenagers, as people living in this time and place, then I am discredited. If I dismiss them too readily or hastily, I am intolerant and heartless. I have to remain human, real; I cannot in any way become a cardboard cutout, a stuffed shirt just looking to execute a lesson and evaluate their academic performance in exchange for compensation. I have to show feeling, show my doubts, show my humor. I have to be in on the viral videos, the pop songs, and the trending hashtags - and not in a token way, because teenagers can detect phony-ness with incredible sensitivity. Ultimately, I must remain an adult while relating intimately to their status as teenagers. I love the challenge, and I am deeply consoled when students tell me I am like a loving big brother.

Given today's culture, what values are critical to teach our young men and women? Extrapolate on why these values are critical to teaching at a Catholic, Jesuit and college preparatory school and why they are important to you.


Faith: In an increasingly secular culture, we are told that it is ok to be spiritual-but-not-religious. This is a fallacy. People who lack religion lack community. Humans are inherently social creatures; we function better when we work together around meaningful causes that we share in common. Atheists, nontheists, and "nones" sometimes band together but do so loosely and often solely on social media. Religion is the social, communal force that enfleshes our beliefs and values, the things we think are so important, that fuel us to prioritize family and love in our lives. We need to encourage teens to retain faith, to take ownership of what they believe, to challenge and doubt and discern the faith of their parents and family and make it their own rather than disavow it. Teens can be incredible role models of faithfulness, spirituality, and religiosity. If we can show them its value, they can teach it to each other and help stem the tide of secularism and SBNR's.

Communication: As social media proliferate and we become more interconnected, the temptation increasingly becomes to downplay face-to-face interactions and keep our eyes glued to backlit electronic screens. The solution to this trend is not to liquidate social media; it is to teach ourselves and our young people how to use them well. Social media ought to be a supplemental means of communication. We should use Twitter and Facebook to increase our connectedness to each other so that we can have more to our relationships than ever before. The problem comes when social media become the primary means of communication and relegate phone calls and in-person contact to the sidelines. We need to reinforce the value and superiority of in-person conversation and highlight the reductiveness of communicating solely by texts, tweets, instagrams, and Facebook posts.

In Christ there is no Left or Right

Flying cross-country today, I read the spring issue of Notre Dame magazine basically cover to cover, for what I believe is the first time in my life. Among the highlights were a batch of fascinating profiles of current students by Tara Hunt, a reflection on the media's love of hating Notre Dame by my hero Matt Storin, and a lengthy investigation of the evaporation of the middle ground in American politics by the great Bob Schmuhl.

As a split ticket voter and an independent, I'm keenly aware of the middle ground, for I seek to stand on it in the political arena. My political science classes taught me about the "myth of the independent" - that the majority of self-titled independents that admit a "leaning" toward one party or the other basically vote like affiliates of that party. I am a true independent without a leaning, one who has too many differences with each party and one who finds his preferences split between the two sides. I seek to support those candidates who are to the middle of their parties' bases, who will articulate shades of grey and/or stick with a slate of stances that don't line up uniformly with the party platform.

Schmuhl wrote about how parties don't move an inch, insisting on holding their ground under the standard of their party. He spoke of the two most liberal Republicans and two most conservative Democrats leaving office by retirement or electoral defeat. He pointed out how consensus building is no longer a strength because those who work bipartisanly are labeled defectors and systematically eliminated by the party leaders.

The labels of Democrat an Republican no longer primarily function to identify the political preferences of voters. They are a wedge, an either/or, a red or blue, a finely demarcated Congressional district that entrenches the candidate of the majority party.

As an amateur theologian and committed minister, I often read stories like this through the lens of our lived faith, our challenge to live our Christian baptismal call in the modern context. Schmuhl's article roused my dislike of people's using the labels "liberal" and "conservative" to describe the Church, its leaders, and its members.

Words become labels so easily, charged up, connotatively loaded tools used to evoke a response, to create an image in the hearer's mind, to elicit emotions. Liberal and conservative describe ideology; they refer to the tilt of people or a group toward policy issues. These words work for politicians to some extent. They become charged up with connotation, but they are fitting because politicians, parties, and voters are in the business of ideology and policy. These words do not work for the Church, its groups, or its members; we are not in the business of ideology and policy.

America suffers from its loss of the moderate bloc; the Catholic Church suffers from pick-and-choose faith and excessive heterogeneity. We should seek diversity, but such a pursuit cannot be exclusive. Charismatic Catholics must recognize the validity of Tridentine Catholics; neither can scorn the other or look down on their brothers' and sisters' piety. The Church is not political. It is the social organ that Christ instituted so that all those who sought to be part of Him could join together in the one baptism to live, pray, and serve alongside each other in His name. There should not be liberal and conservative, Democrat or Republican within her embrace.

Sure, some of us are better gifted to work in solidarity with the poor while others' passions lead them to theological studies and professorial careers. Ultimately, all of us are called to respond to every call to love, whether from those in need on our streets or from the Scriptures and writings of theologians. We can always grow toward a fuller, broader faith, yet we must identify our gifts and passions and put them to work answering the call to love.

We should challenge one another both to take action and to embrace contemplation. However, we must resist calling those who attend Adoration regularly "conservative" while labeling those committed to social justice as "liberal." Such labels may serve to indicate political preferences in electoral races, but they are reductive in the way we use them and shouldn't be applied to our faith. I'd prefer "traditionalist" and "progressive," but even those gesture at an implicit claim that is extraneous to the issue.

No matter how we live our faith, we are all called to orthodoxy - to hear the teachings of the Church, as handed down by Christ to us through the apostles and bishops and their interpreting the deposit of faith for us, through the lived faith of the Church (Tradition), and through the Scriptures. Our Church should be the united Body of Christ, an assemblage of believers seeking to manifest their belonging to Someone (Christ!) and Something (the Church!) bigger than themselves, through prayer, community, and service.

Even when we find conscientious tension with the Church, we are called to embrace it. Even if we cannot fully understand or fully line up with the communicated guidance of our Church, we are called to dialogue with it. Even when we disagree, we are called to navigate the tensions.

The orthodoxy of our united community comes not in blind faith, in unthinking subscription to a bill of doctrines and teachings. True orthodoxy comes from our conscientious dialogue with the teaching of Christ's Church. When we use our reason and our will, we are most human. God gave us these gifts so that we might understand Nature and Truth and live in accordance with His will and develop a relationship with Him through Christ. Let us shake off temptations toward "left" or "right" and instead move directly to an orthodox faith in the Gospels, in the Church, and in Christ.