Breaking the Ice

As I began my first endeavors into living my dream - doing campus ministry at a Catholic high school - I was struck by the immense power and cultural capital of social media among the teenagers to whom I ministered. Over the year, conversations among the adults in the building often gravitated toward the negative and harmful behaviors displayed on these media.

Kids would rip each other and get into massive "Twitter wars," tweeting back and forth at each other, to a point far deeper than flesh wounds. Kids would post Instagrams and Facebook photos of them doing stupid, illegal things that tainted their own reputation and that of the school, in addition to the harm they did to themselves physically/mentally/emotionally and legally. And social media activity, or a lack thereof, only stood to reinforce actual social feuds and rough patches in teenage relationships with passive-aggressive "unfollows" and "unfriends" and postings that were clearly though implicitly directed at particular targets.

During our summit week, in which kids were tasked with engaging various forms of poverty in new ways, I challenged them - through my sub while I recovered from my appendectomy - to engage with typical occurrences from teenage social life and decide how they would respond - post to Twitter? send a text to a friend? talk to an adult? hand-write a note? The point I tried to make was that social media carry different complementary purposes that can help support and uphold our relationships and the regular ways we interact sans technology.

I ended that first year full of musings about how to tackle my next task - moving to another school and building a Campus Ministry basically from the ground up. I decided when I took the job that social media would be a cornerstone of my outreach. I figured that, in order to connect maximally with my teenagers, I had to speak all of their languages.

As the kids rifled through orientation, our loving dean cautioned them against social media activity by citing the dangers its poor usage posed to their job and college prospects. Unfortunately, he went so far as to label social media "evil." I found that to be too far. In my opinion, social media itself isn't evil; the way it's used can certainly be. Similarly, a knife isn't evil when it's spreading butter or cutting a steak, but when one uses it to threaten or hurt another person, it becomes evil. My approach to social media was to infiltrate it with hearty, wholesome, good content. I wanted my postings intermingled with all the rest of the stuff in their news-feeds and timelines so as to put a good voice into the forum.

A few weeks later, I officially launched Twitter and Facebook accounts for Campus Ministry. Slowly but surely, the followers and likes piled up.

When news needed to spread of the need for ministers at Mass, the time and place for the next Student Ministry Team meeting, or the deadline for leadership applications, I would put in an announcement to go out over the PA; I'd post signs around school and outside my office; I'd tell students who I thought would be interested and have a conversation with them; I'd write up letters or notes and share them with students. Now, I also posted the news and information on Twitter and Facebook.

And I can't tell you how much more effective this made the overall grapevine.

A year later, my Campus Ministry is now on Instagram, too. #Selfiesforjesus was a smash hit  during Orientation days as students waited in grueling lines for ID pictures and counseling's schedule help; we used it to recruit altar servers, EM's, lectors, and gift-bearers, and we have twice as many now as we did at this point last year. When I assembled my Student Ministry Team to launch a new retreat-planning team, I asked them for a way to publicize joining the group that would create the El Camino retreat; they invented the hashtag #HazElCamino (make the Camino), and we had over 30 people at the first meeting (which is a lot, I swear).

We rightly identify social media as the source of a lot of evil and ills. Last spring, I visited several classes to facilitate a discussion on a shooting homicide in Chicago - a 13-year-old girl killed another 13-year-old after a disagreement on social media about a boy, even posting a picture of herself flipping the bird with a disparaging tagline indicating her intent to kill her rival. Though my teens were split on whether or not social media does more harm than good, they communicated their awareness of the value of face-to-face confrontation and the importance of knowing which things on social media are important and which are stupid.

Social media functions best when it's a complement to the love we already share in relationship. When we're able to communicate in different ways, different expressions, and different specificity than before, we can gain something. As long as we maintain a perspective that our tweets, statues, and Instagrams are not the be-all-end-all, then we're gonna be ok. We need to tell our phones what we want or need them to do - not the other way around.

This is all relevant to our loving but annoying new friend, the ice bucket challenge. Initially, I was confused - what the hell is this? Then, I was frustrated - how the hell does pouring an ice bucket over your head for social media attention help fight disease? Then, I was delighted - oh, you donate $10 if you do it, or $100 to escape the challenge, so you donate either way. Then, I was conflicted - if I get challenged, will I do it? Am I just trying to join the fray or doing something personal?

So, I started to think and read. I found that this was raising huge money for research into a terrible disease, on top of the fact that tons of videos were going mega-viral. I learned that the whole thing started with a man who suffers from ALS. And I knew that I'm the most anti-trend person I know, so if I still felt like I could do it, then I thought there's likely something legit to this.

It all comes back to the Catholic cliché of contemplation and action. Faith calls us to deep reflection and prayer, meditating over the powerful truths of Word and Sacrament, all the amazing things present in our Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Yet, along with that depth of interiorism, we must be people of action, enfleshing that truth and mystery which we find in contemplation.

The #icebucketchallenge is the perfect opportunity to combine these things. We need to look deeply at what we're doing in response to the challenges and suffering in our world - in this case, a terrible, degenerative disease with no cure and great chronic discomfort and pain. With this challenge, we're dumping icy buckets of water on our heads and donating money.

Neither of these actions cures ALS. (read an "con" opinion)

However, these are actions that come with concreteness both for ourselves and for others. Personally, I learned from pieces on ESPN about the origins of the challenge and about a former football player who suffers from ALS, yet continues his work with his old team, not just as a cliched inspiration but as an actual contributing worker. I learned that even since the time of the Iron Horse, we haven't made much progress medically toward fighting this disease.

And I learned that much of the current research to fight ALS leans on embryonic stem cell research. Though the potential breakthroughs are tantalizing, the ends cannot justify the means; embryos cannot be destroyed for scientific research. So my $10 from the challenge when to the John Paul II Medical Research Institute, which is looking to further their work in preparing adult stem cell research in order to pursue a breakthrough in an ethically sound manner.

Still, none of this has cured ALS. Raising awareness doesn't extend or improve the lives of brothers and sisters with ALS. Ideally, it'd be great if we all took an afternoon to visit with an ALS sufferer and spend time with them.

At least, however, through this challenge, I have experienced resolute reflection and multiple actions in a way that I had not before the ice bucket challenge. And the people who are smart enough to figure out cures and remedies now have more resources to pursue the breakthrough that these people need. Sometimes, it takes a social stunt or hashtag or a viral video to grab our attention, whether it should have taken that or not.

Ultimately, my Catholic conscience draws me to filter all of this activity through a different lens - not awareness but rather solidarity. Solidarity is a deeper, faithful sympathy and empathy that binds us to one another. When one member of our world hurts, we should all hurt, for no one is more or less valuable than anyone else. In our Eucharistic lives, we become what we receive - Jesus, the one who perfected solidarity and freedom through perfect obedience to the Father.

Tucked away somewhere in all these icy experiences for all these people - young and old, everyman and celebrity, vain and humble - in a deeper solidarity, at least just within the challenge's grasp or maybe already in their hearts. Pope Francis believes we should answer Jesus' call to solidarity by fostering a "culture of encounter."

As he returned from his recent trip to Korea, he was asked why he visited with families of the ferry disaster that killed hundreds of Korean teenagers - how did it feel? was he worried about people viewing as a political maneuver? His answer reflects the deep holiness in his heart, as a man who really gets what kind of solidarity we all need to embody, in this challenge and in every challenge:

When you find yourself in front of human suffering, you have to do what your heart brings you to do... when you think of these men, these women, fathers and mothers who have lost their children, brothers and sisters who have lost brothers and sisters, and the very great pain of such a catastrophe... I feel that I have to come close to them, I feel that way. That’s first. I know that the consolation that I can give, my words, are not a remedy. I cannot give new life to those that are dead. But human closeness in these moments gives us strength, solidarity.

Unstandard Deviation

The Catholic Mass often catches a lot of heat from a lot directions. Some complain about out-of-touch priests, uninteresting homilies, unengaging music, or the rote ritual of the liturgy, to name a few.

My main frustration with Mass is a bit more uncommon. As a Campus Minister, I become somewhat of a de facto liturgist, and whether I like it or not, I'm the point person to plan and execute many liturgies. I would much prefer to simply go to Mass, rather than keep an eye out for the nervous lector who can't remember when to get up for the First Reading, play traffic cop to my altar servers as we set the altar table, or eyeball the EM's to make sure no one runs out of hosts.

I just want to be there, praying with everyone, unaware of the plans and their timely execution, simply celebrating the Word and Sacrament. It's a worthwhile ministry to facilitate liturgy for my community. And I'm incapable of reclaiming my past ignorances about liturgy. So I might as well do as well as I can for as long as I'm doing it.

So when it comes to Sundays at the parish, you won't find me doing much more than sitting in the pews, being a faithful parishioner. Maybe someday I'll get back into EM-ing or lectoring, but I really try to simply be present at Mass, to find what God has for me and grow in communion with Christ and with others.

It's much like my recent trips to friends' weddings with my fiancee; we intentionally and deliberately spend the wedding day in prayer and celebration for the couple. We try hard to minimize the times when we talk about our own future wedding and instead keep our focus on that couple. When I'm at Mass, I just want to be present in prayer and spirit to what's happening in that liturgy rather than fall prey to liturgical criticisms (or even snobbery).

Recently, I've been at a few Masses where my heightened liturgical awareness perks up at the same time as my deep love of good liturgy. The Sunday morning after our friends' wedding, they invited guests to a Mass in a board room at the hotel. The liturgist that dwells deep within me was a bit worried because the "altar" was just one end of a board table, over which a corporal was laid for the Liturgy of the Eucharist. As concerning as it was that the Eucharist wouldn't be celebrated on a table set aside solely for that purpose, the overwhelming beauty of the Mass was undeniable.

Packed into a board room - hilariously marked with a maximum occupancy of 10 - was somewhere in the neighborhood of 50 or 75 people, pressed against the walls and a few people deep in each corner, including a choir corner, filled with a crowd of singers. With everyone a bit worn out from the day before and so many people staying at or near the hotel, it was a logical gathering point to bring together a group of family and friends who were together to uphold a couple starting a new family.

Even though we weren't in a church, before a tabernacle, or around a dedicated altar, the wall of joyful noise in the songs we sang and the enthusiastic attention of everyone at this cozy Mass manifested the truth of what Mass and liturgy are meant to be. For if liturgy really is the work of the people, this was a group of people gathered and invited by a bride and groom putting a liturgical cherry on top of a weekend of prayer and celebration.

Later in summer, the chaplain with whom I work held a reunion for the rising seniors at our high school who had all been on Kairos the previous school year. After an hour or two of informal social time at his parish, we moved to the Church for an evening Mass. Given the enormity of the beautiful parish church, we decided to just bring everyone into the sanctuary around the altar. About 40 of us sat around the tabernacle to hear the Word and homily. Then we circled the altar for the Eucharistic Prayer and reception of Communion, all leading to a big Sign of Peace at the end of Mass.

In this case, we were in a church, around a dedicated altar, in the shadow of a tabernacle. A stricter liturgist than I might have been uncomfortable with such a crowd in the sanctuary for the duration of Mass, especially since none of us, save a couple of readers, were altar serving or doing Mass ministries. However, in the dim twilight of a summer evening, with a family of 40 gathered to pray together, the intimacy of the candle-lit sanctuary and the tightly packed congregation manifested sacramentally what this liturgy meant to do: namely, as our chaplain put it to these teens spending a summer night in a church, "You're here because this is important."

The physical closeness of everyone to one another and to Christ, in the Eucharist and His Church gathered there, reflected the spiritual truth of what we were doing together. So at 9pm on a Thursday summer night, a candle-lit Mass with its worshippers sitting and standing in the sanctuary did the trick.

These two Masses had a gritty, raw, basicness that fit their moments. I talk about these Masses because the ways in which they were unusual were pretty circumstantially justifiable (at least, so it seemed to me) and actually highlighted the core values of the liturgy, even if deviating from some of its norms.

Here's the tough apart though: we still need to embrace the norm. It's powerful to gather a small congregation up around an altar; it's intimate to pack a wedding guest list into a tiny board room. However, these are not the norms of our liturgy: the congregation should be stationed together and facing the ambo and altar in a way that unifies its worship and recognizes the special space of the sanctuary and the altar for the Word and the Sacrament; we need to be in pews with kneelers, so that we can bend down and embrace the humble reverence that is becoming of the truth of our Eucharist.

And as frustrating as these formal rituals can feel at times, it's only in the strength of their stability that these occasional deviations can be so powerful. Encircling the altar is something that works better with a small congregation in an intimate setting, especially in the midst of a particularly specific bond or context, like a retreat. Gathering in a non-church location for a Mass is something appropriate to those who are traveling or gathered from a distance to a particular occasion.

We need to reflect on these "unusual" liturgical experiences that we have and realize those parts of the Mass that speak most strongly to us and why. For me, I love the small moments that carry potent symbolism.

For example, when the priest mixes a bit of holy water into the wine, there's tons of symbolism. On top of all the water imagery in our Tradition, you have the image of blood and water pouring forth for us from the Body of Christ in the Passion of John's Gospel now made present in the liturgy. You have the metaphor present in the prayer that accompanies the ritual - praying that the water (humanity) may go well with the wine (divinity), as Jesus embodied both humanity and divinity in Himself. Oh, and in the early Church, this was a mainly practical thing because wine was thick/chunky and needed to be diluted before being served to a large group - how awesome that we've reinforced it with this beautiful symbolism!

A great priest and liturgist who came to speak at Notre Dame told us a great story. In his deep, intimidating voice that had a bit of both James Earl Jones and Morgan Freeman in it, he said, "People sometimes come up to me and say, 'Father, I think Mass is boring.' And I say, 'Mass isn't boring; you're boring!'"

Though I don't want to accuse anyone of such a crime, I will remind everyone that Mass only gives us what we put into it. Or more accurately, we only become aware of the fruits of the Sacraments and God's grace when we're living a prayerful, faithful, reflective life. So when you next go to Mass, don't be boring!

Why We Love Sports This Week

So I'm a big sports fan. As much as I think and write about theology and matters of faith, I do spend a lot of time ensconced in sports. My homepage is ESPN.com; when you turn on my TV, it's already on ESPN; and though my DVR is set to record new episodes of Parks and Rec and Girl Meets World, my only real appointment viewing is Chicago sports.

I often stick up for sports when they get slammed in our increasingly populist-enraged society, in which social media loves to fuel widespread anger at sports, sometimes deservedly, other times in a quite shallow manner.

For example, professional athletes are paid exorbitantly - like in Major League Baseball, where the average salary in well into the multi-millions, and the richest player averages a $30M+ salary. As easy as it is to blackball these people for greed or trivialize their being handsomely compensated simply for physical ability, the reality is that they are in the top 1% (even 0.1%) of their field, one with huge revenues fueled largely by average Americans. I know not every elite professional in every industry makes eight figures, but the reality of being the best of the best of the best is a higher paycheck. The conversation on professional athletes and modern society should instead be about extreme pay disparities or the commoditization of athletes.

I like to celebrate what some in social media spheres call "why we love sports today" moments. These are the times when the reality of people dedicating themselves all out to a competitive cause with droves of fans behind them celebrates humanity and what we're capable of when we're working together. These are the things that help balance out the news of athletes' being guilty of domestic abuse, drug use, and other less-than-exemplary behaviors.

Take first, Thursday afternoon - the annual July 31st rite of the Trading Deadline in Major League Baseball. Teams in contention for the playoffs jockey for position, when one win or loss could be the difference between a berth into the postseason and an early plane ticket home for winter. The tough reality of this is that players, whether they've been the topic of rumors and rumblings in the preceding weeks or not, are sometimes pulled from the bullpen, the bench, or even from the field mid-game, as members of their front office alert the coaching staff of an impending trade. As challenging as it is to see a player pulled from their teammates and told to pick up and go to a new team, there's a moment of poignancy among these large, intimidating males.

This year's deadline was being nicknamed "Hug Watch," as the day's game broadcasts included shots of these players moving through their dugouts to hug their now former teammates. My older brother and I were keeping an eye on Twitter as we sat at Wrigley Field during the Cubs game, watching the clock approach the 3pm deadline. Just before the clock struck three, we saw the long hair and beard of a familiar relief pitcher stirring down the left-field line, and we knew James Russell had been traded. As he took his last walk up and down the home team's third-base line, he hugged his bullpen mates good bye, high-fived a line of front-row fans, and made his way through the dugout for good-byes.

Russell: "I have so much stuff running through my head. What am I going to do with all my clothes and everything?"
— Jesse Rogers (@ESPNChiCubs) July 31, 2014

Tough as it is to see players (humans) treated as tradeable commodities, the difficult moment of changing teams comes with a moment of camaraderie and appreciation while these friends say good bye, for now. And on the other side, excited new teammates are usually eager to welcome new additions, guys who will hopefully help their quest for a championship, often giving warm welcomes to these new trench-mates.

Move on to Friday night - the USA Basketball showcase. After a week of training camp, the national team's coaching staff held one last scrimmage to try to decide a 12-man roster from the group of camp invitees for the Basketball World Cup, but things took a dark turn early in the fourth quarter. Paul George was chasing down his probable Team USA teammate James Harden on a breakaway and fouled Harden as he tried to score. George's momentum took him toward the base of the basket, where his leg buckled as it collided with the base of the basket. George suffered a gruesome double, compound leg fracture. I haven't seen the video but am told one should avoid watching it - so no link provided.

As the coaches, medical personnel, and George's family rushed to his side, the players were utterly despondent. Harden was doubled over in disbelief and disappointment at what had happened as he drove to the hoop. Other Team USA players stood with their heads in their hands, bearing expressions of concern as well as confoundment. Meanwhile, the leadership of USA Basketball realized this was just a basketball game and ended the exhibition early. Given George's injury, there was no need to finish the game.

The leadership was also due to announce their final roster decisions on Saturday, but they postponed such announcements indefinitely, as news of George's injury and probable prognosis started to trickle in. Athletes flooded Twitter with prayers and thoughts for George, and the basketball world stopped worrying about cuts and competition for a minute.

Hurt my stomach the moment I heard the news! I didn't want to believe it. Man I need u out there bro!… http://t.co/2ueciPRgtN
— LeBron James (@KingJames) August 2, 2014

While good ol' Mark Cuban exercised his right to free speech to suggest that the NBA needs to rethink a new model for their pros playing internationally, the Indiana Pacers (George's team) and the NBA Commissioner reiterated that this was an unfortunate accident and supported athletes' decisions to play for their countries in these competitions. It was neat to see such rallies of support for a player from all over, despite any rivalries on the court or competition for roster spots on a World Cup squad, alongside a nod to a player's desire to represent his country.

Finally, as the NFL inducted its newest Hall of Fame members this weekend, Buffalo Bills Wide Receiver Andre Reed treated the world to a beautiful moment. Reed gained great fame as half of a great dynamic duo with fellow Hall of Famer, Quarterback Jim Kelly. Kelly and Reed gave defenses fits with their precise short passing game, as Kelly zipped passes to Reed all over the field.

Kelly has reentered the news in recent years, despite being long retired, as he fights cancer. After receiving his diagnosis and having his cancer surgically removed, it recurred. Kelly underwent the usual intense treatments and is hopefully near a clean cancer-free scan again. Reed had Kelly up on stage during his HoF acceptance speech. He reminded listeners of the damage they did together on the football field : 12 + 83 (their jersey numbers) = 6 (points for a touchdown). And to commemorate the many times he had connected with Kelly in the passing game, he got Jim up from his seat and handed him a football.

Reed moved up the stage in a short pattern, and Jim threw him one more pass, a perfect strike. In a moment when Andre Reed stood next to a bronze bust of his head, a symbol of his football-earned immortality, he resisted the opportunity to give a lengthy, self-serving speech that gratified himself and honored few others. Instead, he recognized the teammate who helped him become great, and did so at a time when his friend was struggling. Far from a patronizing moment, Andre and Jim shared a genuine moment of friendship in a deep embrace on the Hall of Fame stage.

. @JimKellyInc to @Andre_Reed83 at the Hall of Fame had to have been one of the most pure moments in sports in awhile
— Patrick Kane (@88PKane) August 4, 2014

This hug - like the ones in baseball dugouts on Thursday - won't be their last. Sports bring people together in a way that few other things can. A group of people rallying around a common cause in support of another group of people can do amazing things. In sports, we love victory, loathe defeat, and rally behind people and stories that captivate us and uniquely unite us.

Our Church is the same way. There are times when the Church struggles, as we fail to live up to the calls of the Kingdom, whether in some of our priests' sexual abuse actions or in our own failures to live out our faith through regular prayer, worship, and service. But when we come together to pray and serve, when our leaders set the right example, we become capable of amazing things.

In these three moments, sports show us how moments of weakness and trial can become opportunities for us to be fully human and unite more closely with one another.