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.
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