PUT YOUR PHONE DOWN

I am reaching a high point of disillusion.

Not even thinking too specifically right now about sexual ethics, healthy relationships, and broader American social trends, smartphones and social media are driving me to my wit's end right now.

Working with teenagers on a service week this week, I have been at ground zero of the issue. Our students are tied to their phones, and my fellow chaperone and I are dealing with the fallout. Before the week started, we talked about what our policy would be and settled on requiring that phones stay put away during service site activities but can otherwise be used, during car rides, waiting periods, etc.

Wow, do I regret this.

On retreats that I direct, I insist on students turning in their phones or turning in a letter from their parents that states that they do not have their phones. No alternatives. Period. This has been a hugely effective practice. I wish I had done that on this trip, collecting phones at the starts of the days and returning them only at days' ends.

Yesterday, after working four hours straight in setup, distribution, and cleanup at a parish food pantry, we settled down for some group discussion, prayer, and reflection. We had a fairly decent conversation in the context of some prayer, and then we wrapped and waited for lunch to get delivered. At some point during that brief waiting period, every student was on their phone, and at one point, at least 13 of 19 were on them simultaneously. At no point were there any larger conversations between several people in the group; they were in their own little individual worlds or talking only with the person next to them.

When we got in the van to drive home for the night, rather than continuing with our pattern of pre-decided meal plans, I tried to offer my 9 students free choice of somewhere where we could eat together for about $8/person. Over the course of a 50-minute car ride, no attempt was made at group thinking. Great effort was invested in smartphone usage. A few brief suggestions were made, but no consensus was built at all. We finally ended up at Potbelly, simply because two people had suggested it at different times.

Today, taking an hour or so break between activities, I offered the laptop/projector to put on a TV show or movie that they wanted to watch to unwind a little bit. Most students ignored me entirely; one student suggested something; all of them were on their phones. Finally, one student took charge and worked with me to pull up a favorite movie. While it was loading, four of them gathered around another person's phone and watched a funny video at full volume, a few feet away from the projector and entirely oblivious and uninterested in the movie that was starting, never offering to turn down their volume. At no point did any of them try to work together to gather suggestions or work toward a consensus. Just a few moments in a week full of them.

When my fellow chaperone and I see our students turn to their phones, our theory on their motivation is strong - security. We observe that individuals feel more comfortable when they can take out their phone and take charge of the world in that moment - decide what apps, decide which notifications to check and review, decide who to respond to or reach out to, and eliminate the risks of social indefiniteness.

I sympathize with this. When I am waiting for the train, when I am sitting in the doctor's office, when I am early for a meeting or appointment, I do a quick email check or pull up traffic to see what my route home might entail. I get that our phones are the instinctive thing to turn to in order to fill a spare moment.

However, I was very stubborn when I got my smartphone that I would not become a human compulsion, and I have managed to be pretty good with this. I have all notifications turned off except for phone calls/voicemails and texts. I have no "little red numbers" on any of my apps, except the app store for updates. I share a 3GB data pool with my brothers and dad and rarely exceed 1GB in data use, which even feels like too much to me. I know this is a bit stuffy and arrogant, but it's important to me that my phone is an occasional complement to socializing and not a replacement or deterrent.

These students have no intention to set any kinds of safeguards or limits, and I don't feel like their parents know how to do that or have any interest in trying. These students uncontrollably lean on their phones for everything in every moment to the point where I legitimately am unsure if they take in any experience completely when separated from their phones.

Every moment must be filtered through Snapchat et al (Snapchat is the clear favorite among my teens) in order to take on any sort of significance. All messages must be relayed via innocuous videos and selfies, many of which are rudimentary repeats of the same things over and over with little variance. It is 90-100% about volume, immediacy, and responsiveness, with almost no concern for substance or relevance. Students send and consume so quickly that the content is not really relevant; it's the action of sending and receiving that keeps the pipeline flowing at lightning speed to feed the need for constant gratification.

I think the most frustrating part is not that these apps are so pervasive, because they are fun and entertaining. The most frustrating part is that they have become a necessary medium for social interaction. Even when teens are physically together in the same place, they still are more comfortable and more likely to communicate via snapchats than regular conversation.

They'd rather take a video of their group of friends, add filters and text overlays, and replay it to each other rather than simply have a conversation. They'd rather rifle through others snaps and stories, react to them aloud in pithy conversations, and criticize others than live out their stories in real life. They'd rather borough deep into some part of their phone's world than risk being unentertained or made uncomfortable by the naturally unfolding world around them which they'd have to take in and react to without the ability to manipulate it.

I wish they could see how quickly they rifle through their activity on their phones. I wish I could record the screen output on their phones, isolate it, and display it on a projector in front of others to show how rapid and superficial so much of it is.

Education and ministry leaders frequently emphasize the need to meet teenagers where they are and to try to use their natural behaviors and tendencies to help engage and learn. I am convinced - at least for this current group - that this is simply not going to happen. They are so used to be in complete control on their social media and their interactions that they are uninterested in using these social media for means besides that which they decide is important.

I have never ministered to a group that is more difficult to engage, who more thoroughly resists interaction, and who more stubbornly refuses to take charge of themselves in practical ways (knowing our daily schedule, knowing where we're going next, following protocols and rules) yet will doggedly keep track of their phones and chargers even if they can't do the same with permission slips.

I co-manage a Twitter and Instagram for these ministries. I take pictures and post frequently, live-blogging our activities with specific hashtags that are announced and reannounced to students. The account handles and hashtags are on our booklets and all over the websites of our school. I want to be present in those spaces and provide live content that they can consume and respond to with us.

They won't follow our accounts (very few at least), interact with us, or contribute.

I write this largely out of frustration, but even as that feeling abates, my larger point is my sadness over the social destitution this entails. I am witnessing students who are incapable of organic interaction, who don't know how to engage each other face-to-face with words aloud, who cannot work together to attempt a group decision. It makes for shallow community, underdeveloped spirits, and serious concerns for their futures.

How do we engage young people spiritually and in faith, and how do we do this in the context of, or in spite of, their smartphones and social media? I have never really been at such a loss for how to respond to youth in ministry. This is the biggest unanswered question I've come to so far.

Attention Tension

The lector goes up to the ambo this morning and starts to announce the First Reading. It's Easter, so we're in the meat of the book of Acts of Apostles. I know my Gospels and the greatest hits of the Old Testament lectionary selections fairly well, but I'm not as strong with Acts and Paul. So I'm trying to key in a bit more.

Then the baby behind lets loose. Without turning my head, my attention immediately shifts. I hear the baby rustling through the worship aid, turning and tearing. I hear a parent reach to extract the rustling paper, and then the baby decides that's it. The screams and tears come next, and the parents live in that indecision for the first moments, trying to discern if this outbreak will merit the take-a-walk reaction.

Meanwhile, I have whiffed on the whole first reading. The tumult behind me had abated, but the reading was basically over. I got none of it.

Initially, I was kind of miffed. C'mon, man, I'm just trying to be good, get my fill of Word and Sacrament, get some renewal before an action-packed week ahead. And then the first foray into Scripture gets detoured by the calamity behind me.

Then I switched gears - stop making excuses, I thought. I got an excellent night's sleep, got to bed early, and slept in late. I had breakfast, made my shopping list, and got a parking spot in the lot. I was here on time in a good spot in the pews. I even kind of hoped for a quicker Mass - so I could get on with my lazy Sunday sentiment - and there was our dear Polish priest ready to get us in and out in under an hour (actually, 50 minutes today).

Plus, I deeply value our parish for the vitality our families bring to it. I appreciate that every week brings a healthy mix of young people, young couples, and families with young children. I hope that if and when my wife and I have kids that we can bring them to a parish with such quality family life. And frankly, I'd rather that a family be present with crying kids than have them stay home and not make the effort. At my heart, I'm patient and frankly enjoy the kids' screaming at Mass. So shut up, me!, I thought.

At my heart, I miss some of the ignorance I had toward Mass. I treasure my education and formation in theology and ministry, but all my classes, my years, in choir, and my professional life that has made into a liturgist have made it hard to simply be present at Mass. I kind of wish I could bracket off parts of my liturgical awareness that make me think about logistics and planning rather than staying more grounded in the spiritual practices of Mass.

Anywho, there's something funny about my instincts in sharing with others following Mass. Maybe some of you are similar. I find myself more likely to comment on the music selections, on some mistake or misstep by someone ministering at Mass, on someone we saw or something they did, or on the length of the Mass. Why not on the message of the homily? Why not on something I thought about or prayed about? Why not on something I noticed or felt during Mass?

I tried doing our parish's "Mass journal" idea to compile take-aways from Mass, but it didn't get me any momentum. There's some disconnect here that I have to reassemble. I think I can be more proactive in asking others about their Mass experience and trying to have even simple conversations about our take-aways.

Growing up, my brothers, dad, and I would often be waiting in our van in the church parking lot while my mom would be talking to people after Mass. Then she'd finally get in the car so that we could head to breakfast, and she'd be humming the tune to the closing song from Mass. Maybe those two habits would be a good place to start.

Bogarting the Condiments

One of my favorite parts of campus ministry is gradually establishing connections to students. I've learned more and more than I cannot and should not be their friend, but I can be an advocate, a supporter, a listening ear, and a positive presence.

I always like campus ministry to be a place, in terms of its physical location, that is explicitly different from classrooms. Maybe we have a board, but it's not for note-taking or assignments; it's for prayers. Maybe we chairs and tables, but they're not for test-taking; they're cushioned and comfortable couches and coffee tables. Maybe we have books and binders, but they're not for studies; they're for retreats and activities. It should feel differently comfortable and inviting than a classroom, and I cherish when students' behavior and actions maintain respect toward boundaries but embrace the different context of ministry versus academics.

I was spoiled in my first job, coming in to a place where such an environment was more widespread across campus, especially in our big, open, welcoming school commons, where all kinds of groups of students and teachers constantly gathered at all different times for all different kinds of reasons. In my last job and my current job, we lack such a natural gathering space. Additionally, our locations and community populations both prompted us to try to get students on to their after-school activities and rides home quickly and expeditiously for safety reasons. It makes forming these connections all the more difficult.

Added on to that, the first year in a new community is its own gradual curve. Starting a new job this year, I have to get used to the places around school where students are, the schedules of each day and week, the personality of the community and its individual members, etc. Needless to say, it can be frustrating to try to build these connections from scratch over extended periods of time. It doesn't happen quickly, and patience can be hard to come by!

So eight months in, I am still not sure that I have such a connection with any students. I have most everyone's names down, and I feel comfortable having easy interactions with many of them. However, I still am looking for that core group of kids - the ones who will come hang on the couches after school, who will go out of their way to share news with us, who will bang down the doors when sign-up's go out for retreat leadership or service outings.

Well, the mixed blessing of a Catholic school is that everyone has to pitch in with the random tasks that it takes to make a school go. One of these lovely roles is cafeteria supervision. I have always enjoyed milling around during lunch to check in on students, hand out forms and flyers, and sort of goof around for a few minutes while students are away from classes. Well, for 25-30 minutes a day, I am in lunch with the freshmen and sophomores.

We had a rash of issues with table cleanliness (hard to believe, I know!), many of which centered on taking the condiments away from the table - where they dwell beneath a sign that says "Do not remove the condiments from this table" - and proceeding to make a mess with them and leave them there when they left the cafeteria.

I decided to become the enforcer of this ignored rule, the protector of the condiments. I took my position beside the condiment table and restricted condiment use to that spot right there. No taking the bottles to your table. No borrowing them and bringing them back. You ketchup your tots right here and put the bottle back.

Initially, I got reactions of confusion, disbelief, and frustration. Students couldn't believe I wouldn't let them take the bottle. Well, sorry, folks, you blew the privilege of ignoring the rule. Gradually, they understood it wasn't gonna happen and began to bring their food to the station to pour some ketchup into their tray or little containers. Over time, they began to get it and follow the rule.

Some students had no issue with my request. They were very pleasant in simply sticking to the rule and helping us keep the cafeteria clean. One young lady in particular was very specific in executing her ketchup acquisition. Having asked for a little paper cup to squeeze ketchup into, she approached the table, grabbed a bottle, and quite artfully deposited her ketchup into its new receptacle.

Squeezing the bottle to make a strong, continuous spray, she filled the bottom of the cup. Then, building the blob upward, she began to spray the ketchup in a circular motion. The ketchup made a swirling shape as it piled toward the rim. At that point, she was narrowing the circle to make a cone-shaped top. This was about as much ketchup as could safely fit in a little paper cup, and she had executed it to perfection.

I was quite impressed. After seeing her in action a few times, one day, I celebrated her feat and affirmed her skills. A few weeks later, when I grabbed a carton of fries for a snack, I brought a bottle of ketchup to her and asked her to share her expertise in dispensing some ketchup for me. She happily obliged.

Pretty stupid, right? Did I just right several paragraphs about ketchup? Did I take a stand in bogarting condiments? Did I get excited over a student's dispensing skills?

This is the stuff ministry was made of. I learned her name. I connected a skill, a quirk, a daily task to her. We talked. We had some laughs.

A few weeks later, she volunteered to serve in our Holy Thursday Prayer Service. When we got back from Easter break, she told me about a foot injury she had suffered. She says hello to me in the hallways, pretty much every time now. She's one of a handful who may be the early nucleus of a campus ministry core.

Sometimes, retreats create connections. Sometimes, classroom teaching makes the connection. Sometimes, a service trip, an after-school club, or a chance conversation creates the connection. This time, it was ketchup.

Ministry is a diverse beast. There is opportunity for encounter and interaction so often in daily life, and I'm grateful that my unusual stand for responsible condiment stewardship helped connect me to a student I did not yet know.

Hope someone fills your ketchup cup today.

Moral Optimism v. Moral Pessimism

From my perspective as both a millennial and a high school Campus Minister and theology teacher, I witness a lot of relativism. I see a lot of sentiment toward admitting some vague semblance of absolutism that is quickly qualified with "but I would never expect that of someone else" or "but I would never tell someone they have to do that or believe that."

This is nothing new. I've written before about how humanity invents new ways to enable our misbehaviors rather than change, how sometimes morality and decisions aren't so much right v. wrong as much as it is right v. righter, and how the coherency of Church teaching can help Catholics be good dialoguers from a middle ground.

More recently, my thoughts have gravitated toward morality as it relates to one's outlook. I am a pretty stubborn idealist, both motivated and flawed by my constantly high expectations of just about everything and everyone. So when it comes to morality, I am no different.

I believe in absolute truth. I believe that there is moral black and white, which though sometimes greyed by circumstance in its execution, is real and applicable to everyone in every place. So when it comes to living out morality, I think there's a way that we can all rise to moral goodness, doing the right things and making the right decisions. Sure, it must proceed from humility and repentance, but I think it's possible to be constantly moving in the right direction, toward good and God.

However, this isn't the reality for everyone. And I don't think it's even the reality for all moral absolutists or all Catholics. I think lurking within morality, both absolutism and otherwise, there is another difference. I want to call it moral optimism v. moral pessimism.

I think there are moral pessimists who believe that there are certain things that are out-and-out wrong yet at the same time will admit these things' certainty and accept their inevitability. These folks might prefer to be called something like pragmatists or realists, but either way, the sentiment is clear - some wrongful behaviors, even if absolutely immoral, just happen and there's nothing to do about it.

On the other hand, I think of myself as a moral optimist. In addition to believing that there is an absolute right and wrong, moral and immoral, I also think that behavior can change. I think individuals can have conversations, interactions, and experiences that impact their choices and actions. I think society can undergo transformation that peels back immoral behaviors.

An obvious example would be sexual morality. I have found that an inarguable premise in discussion is "people are going to do have sex anyway." As a result, the availability and affordability of condoms, contraceptives, and abortifacients as well as abortion medications and procedures is a no-brainer - this behavior is irreversible and endemic in society, so there needs to be ready access to these things to counteract the consequences of sex.

Honoring both pragmatism and idealism, I'd say that yes, today, most people are going to have sex whenever they want, regardless of their knowledge of their partner's history, their awareness of their own medical status, etc. However, I think on a larger scale and over a longer term, this social inevitability can be impacted such that over a longer arc perhaps fewer people will be sexually promiscuous and more people will reserve sexual intercourse for marriage. It has to do with taking a stand to change one's own behaviors and paying witness to the actions and words one shares in one's community and relationships.

On another front, inequality and basic human rights and needs present another opportunity. Most people would agree that humans should not be going hungry, thirsty, naked, or shelterless. However, some people accept that a certain amount of the population will just suffer these things while others commit more earnestly toward fighting it.

A moral pessimist may say there will always be homeless people, lines at the food pantry, and needs for clothing drives. These people may give charitably but accept the inevitable presence of the needy. However, as a moral optimist, I will instead indefinitely seek to partner with the marginalized needy people to connect them to people and things that will provide for their needs. I want to help those who go wanting, work to get them more stable, and continue that work such that my colleagues and me and those who get themselves stabilized can keep partnering with those in need. I want to educate and form young people to discover and identify the root causes of marginalization and inspire society to work toward reforming those things that lead us throw people away.

Do you think you're a moral optimist? A moral pessimist or pragmatist? Something in between?

I think there is danger is moral pessimism/pragmatism/realism. While we must acknowledge present realities in order to respond to them earnestly, I think it must involve a degree of optimism to be true to what God calls us to be as sacraments of His love in the world.

I think we must say Yes, this evil exists, but it doesn't have to be like this or stay like this. I think we must ask How does Christ call me as a Christian and my community as the Church to be His hands and feet for one another?

The love of God must originate in a person's heart and then be conveyed toward others in actions and words, so the desire to pursue and actualize what is good has to start with one person being the hands and feet of Christ for good and then letting that ripple outward as the goodness spreads.

Our faith is founded on a beautiful coherence of truth from the revelation of God, and we do not need to dismissively accept moral evils as certainties in the world. The love of God is the most radical thing this world has ever experienced, and we can live it out by insistently being a force for good in our prayers, thoughts, words, and actions.