Bigger than Ourselves Ch. 9: Step 1 - Reduce Institutions ... Step 3 - Profit?

by Dan Masterton

It sure seems to me that Catholic parish life is struggling.

As an adult, I’ve seen the issues up close, not just through how our parish looks and through my work in ministry but also through our own parental and familial choices.

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It’s always been important to me, each time I move, to minimize my church-shopping. I will try Mass in a few places, get a feel for each community, and think it through. But then I want to choose one place to settle, formally register, set a repeating online donation, and go to Mass and try to really plug in there. In our settled hometown for our family, we have done that and put down roots at one parish for a few years now. So in terms of commitment, consistent attendance, and financial support, we are doing what we can to vote with our feet in favor of one parish and parish life.

However, we struggle to prioritize socializing and seeking ongoing formation at our parish. As we hear announcements and flip through the bulletin, we grumble about trying to fit potential Church outings around soccer practices, ice skating lessons, music classes, and other appointments — not to mention sitting at home and relaxing together for at least some of the time. Most often, we come for Sunday Mass and our one night each month of family faith formation, and then we aren’t really around the church much. I may squeeze in a food drop for the quarterly soup kitchen crew’s cooking or bring gifts for the Christmas giving collection, but our in-person presence at anything more is minimal. So in terms of engagement, presence, and relationship-building, we are nearly a non-factor — and thus part of the problem a bit.

The potentially growing poverty of parish life is surely financial and infrastructural — younger generations are just less likely to register and donate, both to weekly collections (and capital campaigns I imagine), and vocations to priesthood and religious life are of lesser quantity than they used to be (though, in my work in vocation ministry, I do see a probable increase in quality of discernment and formation). But perhaps the greater poverty is the poverty of engagement. And that’s just the topline issue I would identify among families that do belong somehow.

Moving one layer outward, sociological studies are indicating a reduction in formal belonging, and perhaps an aversion, among Gen Z (generally considered those born between 1997 and 2012), including to formal religion. Yet, these studies also see a continued desire for spirituality and exploration.

In a sense, it’s a new version of the old issue of being “spiritual but not religious.” However, sometimes this is now connected with those who identify as “nothing in particular” or “none” rather than as atheists or agnostics. Where as the SBNR vibe was often a hedge or a cover against admitting atheism, this newer identification often indicates an active and ongoing desire to engage with one’s spirituality and beliefs actively. Yet, it is done so in a personal, often private and hard-to-identify way, and a certainly in a way uncoupled from institutional religion.

On one hand, I can understand the institutional distrust, especially of an institution with high-profile and significant modern struggles, not least its cover-ups and sexual scandals. On the other hand, I am skeptical of the idea of taking on major spiritual exploration disconnected from a community element — we know that many, if not most, things are richer, more impactful, and more sustainable when reinforced by a community experience and by relationships, from drug and alcohol addiction recovery to professional organizations to bowling and softball leagues. A tricky wrinkle is that I imagine many from this crowd would welcome communal religion if it was a grassroots thing. The problem there is that this breezes past the funny tension between desiring an organic, spontaneous start and a group that doesn’t strike me as especially organized or proactive toward this.

Whatever you may think about these tendencies or preferences, I find myself worrying about the downstream impact. Those who resist, oppose, or tear down institutions while desiring the things they perennially prepare and offer, and those who do so without all that much of an idea of what comes next, are playing a risky game. 

That’s easier for me to say because I am more optimistic about institutions overall, thinking those who are active and rise to leadership can make an impact that improves institutions. For those who are skeptical of churches but desiring spiritual lives, I would hope for a level of engagement that evolves to reform community spiritual life, especially among Catholics, rather than discard or reject it.

For Kevin, here, there’s a real challenge of taking the cold realities of data and subjective input and trying to make a strategic and sustainable decision. It is easy to see merging, closure, and reduction as the needed intervention; it is also easy to see the care and hope of people longing to retain a fading community. The harder thing, often, is to chart a third way, one that acknowledges increasingly sad realities yet also retains hope and responds with creativity. We don’t have tosimply close a bunch of churches; we don’t have to give in to high emotions that cling to fading models. The idea here is that Kevin, his bishop, and the people of St. Brendan may have a creative third way.

Bigger than Ourselves Ch. 8: Multi-Potentiality and God's Ongoing Invitations

by Dan Masterton

When I was in college at the University of Notre Dame, I always liked finding folks who had unusual combinations of majors, supplemental majors, and minors. Why pre-health and economics? Why accounting and theology? Why piano performance and engineering?

The conversation usually unfurled a fascinating combination of gifts, talents, and skills alongside intriguing passions and desires. Sometimes, it was more of a lark — a way to explore an intellectual curiosity at a high level and expand one’s mind; more often, it reflected a healthy inner tension that wondered what crossovers and professional potentials could be unlocked at an unusual point of overlap.

As an adult professional working in Catholic schools, this kind of person was all around me. While some colleagues were came into teaching from a classic education/subject area course of study, many others were this kind of hodgepodge I describe — the math teacher who could also teach classical guitar, the football coach and assistant AD with a divinity degree, or the theology and social justice warrior finishing a counseling degree.

And in a situation where you’re constantly underfunded, understaffed, and underrested, having a faculty/staff with diverse backgrounds, a wide range of skills, and ready passions goes a long way. There are plenty of times where a school can abuse or exploit this depth in their human capital, but, when this is well managed and done with grace, it becomes a major blessing — and an often necessary way — that a Catholic school can evolve and endure and sustain.

In a perfect world, the faculty, staff, and admins would have clear, concise job descriptions without amendments and add-ons and loosely worded “other duties as assigned” clauses to go with healthy salaries that help you stomach the time commitment. In reality, Catholic education usually has to be a bit more Mad-Max-Fury-Road. And survival and the chance to thrive are usually tied to the nimble ways that school leadership can identify its employees’ gifts, utilize them effectively, and try to juggle titles, responsibilities, and expectations flexibly to fit.

The strongest schools I’ve seen have sought to retain dedicated, talented people and use them and their skills in the best way possible. Usually, this meant clinging less tightly to cardboard-cutout titles and rigid job descriptions and leaning into more unconventional combinations. When you trust your people and manage the relationships faithfully, this can and does work.

Part of this is leaving space for people to grow and develop, and for people to admit and nurture secondary or subtler gifts they have deeper within them that can be brought to bear on the community. In my time in Catholic education and ministry, I’ve variously leaned into writing, graphic design, social media management, and community organizing in ways I didn’t know I had in me — and ways I didn’t know I’d want to. I’ve seen others go back to school for new and different training, seek out new roles in coaching or student life/activities, or pursue faith formation anew. 

All this is to say that we have a multi-potentiality within us that often only comes out by necessity in our professional lives, but often is rooted in wider, richer curiosities or even sometimes in impulses from younger days that may thrive when given new air to breathe. Sometimes, this can tax or stretch us in partly unwelcome ways; at other moments, it can unpack a long-wondered-about potential that enables us to grow and serve in badly needed ways.

Part of the mystery at play is God’s ongoing invitations. I used to think of vocation largely as “God’s call,” but I’ve found that language and understanding to be too reductive. Some religious brothers, priests, and sisters I know — many of whom work in vocation ministry — prefer to use the phrasing of “God’s invitation and our response.”

And my dear friend Br. John likes to add that “God’s invitations are ongoing.” It is neither a one-sided interaction nor a once-and-for-all prompting. God called us by name in birth and baptism; God calls us in our states of life, beginning as singles and then considering continuing in that or turning to marriage or religious/ordained life; God calls us to a vocational path of work or service; God calls us to particular lanes of that path; God calls us also to personal and specific vocational expressions. And all through these invitations, what we hear — and the response we discern — can evolve, both in expected and unexpected ways.

 

For Jill, she has always been a teacher. For decades, it has been expressed through patient education and peer mentorship and training. Now, that expression may be evolving, and just as her heart evolves in its understanding and desire to express itself, so, too, do the invitations come from God, especially through those faithful people around her.

God doesn’t waste any of our faithful presence to God, others, and ourselves. It is all part of our vocational path of striving to be part of Someone (Christ) and Something (the Church) bigger than ourselves.

* * *

In returning to blogging, my first project is to finish up the audiobook/podcast of my fiction stories. My three stories — “What There Is to Be Done”, “Abundance, not Scarcity”, and “Bigger than Ourselves” — are collected into “Go Your Way: Stories from Our Lives of Faith,” which is available on Amazon. (I basically use Amazon as an on-demand printer; the price is set to yield a $0.00 royalty.) My third story was in progress when I stepped away last summer, and here I’m getting back to it. Each episode is one chapter from the book plus a brief reflection.

Bigger than Ourselves is itself a series of short stories, about various people at a Catholic parish, and the book as a whole ties them together through their community life.

For more on my writing, visit my LinkTree portfolio or book information website.

Bigger than Ourselves Ch. 7: Fastidious Diligent as well as Understated and Subtle

by Dan Masterton

In returning to blogging, my first project is to finish up the audiobook/podcast of my fiction stories. My three stories — “What There Is to Be Done”, “Abundance, not Scarcity”, and “Bigger than Ourselves” — are collected into “Go Your Way: Stories from Our Lives of Faith,” which is available on Amazon. (I basically use Amazon as an on-demand printer; the price is set to yield a $0.00 royalty.) My third story was in progress when I stepped away last summer, and here I’m getting back to it. Each episode is one chapter from the book plus a brief reflection.

Bigger than Ourselves is itself a series of short stories, about various people at a Catholic parish, and the book as a whole ties them together through their community life. Below is the fresh reflection to go with Chapter 7, and I’ll continue one chapter at a time through the end of this third and final story. For more on my writing, visit my LinkTree portfolio or book information website.

* * *

In college, I sang in a really great choir. Our main mission was to foster full and active congregational participation in the Mass, and I believe we did an outstanding job at this. We were intentional about choosing music that had singable melodies, thoughtful lyrics, and relevance to the lectionary selections, liturgical seasons, and meaning of the Mass. As a result, the congregations at the Masses, prayer services, and concerts at which we sang were typically singing loudly and proudly.

The behind-the-scenes layer of this that sometimes ruffled my feathers was the rigidity with which we needed to do this ministry in order to be effective. Sometimes the quantity and intensity of our rehearsal could be a lot, especially for me as an amateur/novice singer, but the result was hard to argue with. It made the hard work and long hours preparing the music deeply valuable and impactful.

The part of this I couldn’t so easily stomach was the intense attention to detail in ways I found to be a bit over the top and sometimes downright unnecessary. One example of this was the obsession with moving people and equipment around well in advance of when it was necessary. Soloists who needed to move forward in the risers were beckoned and shuffled forward several minutes beforehand, and multiple coaches and people would adjust the mic level, binder position, and orientation of the person’s body as they prepared, and psalmists who needed to head down to the ambo were shot out of a cannon down the steps before the resonance had even subsided on the Gloria, standing in the aisle of the nave while the lector proclaimed the First Reading.

These were the backstage movements that helped the ministerial action unfold so smoothly and effectively. But to me, an idealistic purist who wanted to be fully present as a congregant while ministering the choir, it felt exorbitant and undue. It seemed like stress that needed and manufactured an outlet. And I’d have to shake it off after paying witness. All that said – it never stopped us from serving well, and arguably sustained our efficacy.

Fast forward to parish life as an adult and now as a parent, and I feel like I see the same thread sometimes unspooling again and again. There are times when it seems volunteers, ministry leaders, and Catholics in general are more dedicated to the process and structure than to the service of others itself.

The most unsettling example to me was the parish picnic at the parish where we no longer belong. It was advertised as an all-ages and family affair, from 1 to 4pm on a Sunday afternoon – the usual promises of games, prizes, treats, food, music, and more. With two young kids and finite fuses to manage, I suggested we go around 3 just to enjoy the last hour.

When we arrived, we found the volunteers already taking half the things down with nearly an hour to go in the event. The ice cream stand had one person left who was tidying up; the games stations were closing down; the tables and chairs were being stacked up and put away.

I shepherded us through the skeleton crew of remaining items, grabbing the last few ice cream sandwiches available and playing one spinning wheel game before tucking my tail between my legs and heading off. God bless Church volunteers, literally doing God’s work and often thanklessly so, but what is the point of a parish picnic going until 4pm if it’s mostly cleaned up and stored away at 3:30? It was an example of process and structure being king, at the expense of hospitality, self-awareness, and any social sense at all. (It would have been easier to write off as an outlier if I hadn’t already found little to no response for starting a family-and-children group as well as having no offerings for young kids across the parish; it was sort of a third strike.)

As usual, the proper Catholic response is a good old-fashioned both-and. It is possible we can be both fastidiously diligent as well understated and subtle, that we can be dutifully helpful as well as thoughtfully hospitable, that we can bring our best sense of order, decorum, and structure but not lose sight of the people being served and engaged. There need not be any horse-trading that shortchanges welcome and community.

In Chapter 7, Nick is your classic reliable volunteer. Telling Nick’s story was a way for me to practice empathy, to remember to give others the benefit of the doubt and not jump to shallow (and thus often misinformed or un-informed) conclusions. And a more deliberate reception of Nick, and who he is and what he offers, helps unlock another layer of his gifts, skills, and passions, in a way that renews his sense of self and sense of service while also serving this parish community.

The Call of the Stay-at-Home Parent

by Dan Masterton

Each birthday of my oldest daughter, Lucy, of course marks her getting another year older, but it tallies another year of something else, too. Her seventh birthday last month was also quietly the start of my eighth year as mostly a stay-at-home parent.

It’s not a big milestone or an even, round number. Yet as Lucy, our 4-year-old Cecilia, and our 4-month-old Brigid settle into life with my wife and our mom, Katherine, being fully back to work after maternity leave, and my enjoying a short paid leave from my part-time job, it’s a good time for me to take stock of the call – my call – of the stay-at-home parent.

Why did we decide that I’d stay home?

It starts with my paid paternity leave. Thanks to my job in an Archdiocese of Chicago school, I had twelve weeks off at full pay to spend with my newborn, and Katherine and I decided to take our leaves together. During that time, we got to cut our teeth as new parents before Lucy even began to cut her own. And we had ample time to talk more expansively and relaxedly about what we’d do after those twelve weeks were up.

Practically, our parents (Lucy’s grandparents) were all working at the time and not closeby enough to provide regular childcare. The cost of childcare wouldn’t be hugely different than the reduction in Catholic school salary I’d take going down to part-time. And Katherine was working three twelve-hour shifts each week and beginning part-time doctoral studies, so she had four days that were open and flexible as her shifts were requested and assigned. After some poking around at full-time opportunities, I could tell my heart wasn’t in going back to work fully.

As we discussed it more and more, we both felt strongly that we’d like to avoid daycare and instead care for our daughter ourselves as much as we could. I’d liken our mindset on staying home versus daycare to the breastmilk-versus-formula debate: while some prefer one or the other, there isn’t a clear and definite answer as to which might be better or worse; ultimately, a parent’s job is to feed and nourish their child, on whichever of the routes they choose. We don’t deride or discount daycare; we just didn’t think it was for us. We wanted our daughter home with us, going out from home with us, and spending most of her baby time with us.

My role in a Catholic school could flexibly scale down, and to keep Katherine on a good track to grater professional scope and earning power, we needed to keep her progressing through school. In retrospect, it’s clear that I underestimated the existential and fundamental sacrifice she was making, and I took for granted the ease with which I could make the shift and that, for the life we wanted, she could not.

I went down to 50% time and 50% salary, and I started focusing on life at home, with just two days a week spent at work. My thoughts shifted more heavily to grocery shopping, cooking, laundry, and cleaning; to morning playtime, afternoon walks, and regular social outings; to retaining some ministerial outlet while serving in intentionally narrowed, constrained ways.

Reallocating my focus and energy felt right to the husband, father, and minister God made me to be. I could serve a small group of students in service, prayer, and retreat ministries. I also could dedicate a greater proportion of my time and energy to my wife and daughter to make our household hum and accompany my daughter through her little life’s milestones and daily ho-hums.

Why have I continued to stay home?

I’ve known since that initial decision that I couldn’t be 100% stay-at-home, and I knew I couldn’t do it forever. Approaching it as a 10-to-12-year idea, and keeping a toe dipped into ministry life, I knew and know I can continue doing this with and for my family.

In 2019, as I spent my second year part-time in a Catholic high school and its campus ministry, I was losing my foothold and wondered how I could continue this work. I felt like a weak link on a strong staff, trying to give bits to my students in two days a week while clearly not treating them, the school, or the community as my priority. I was awed by my colleagues’ dedication and service, and I knew I wouldn’t give what they were giving because I wouldn’t overextend myself and dilute my presence at home.

As I weighed nonetheless trying another year at this, a dear friend in a religious community invited me to consider joining their staff. He was proposing one day a week at the headquarters and flexible additional time to add up to a part-time role. That arrangement coupled with the chance to shift more so to back-office support and less hands-on ministry was ideal. I made the tough choice to move on from high schools and settle into this different role for my work.

Katherine completed her doctorate and then moved to a standard workweek as an outpatient nurse practitioner. Now I needed coverage for my day away from the house since she was done with shift-work. Thankfully, we were blessed by familial support. Katherine’s mom had retired from teaching, and my dad had retired from banking since Lucy was born. They were both more than ready to step in while I stepped out, taking turns each week on one weekday with our kiddos.

This sustained balance, where I could take a day away for meetings, independent work, site visits, and some programmatic stuff was perfect to keep me engaged in meaningful work and provide a change of pace (and a break) from home life. Once again, it’s easier to see in retrospect than in the exact moment how my wife simply soldiered on with a full load while I had the benefit of greater flexibility in being the secondary income and moving things around in these ways.

This role in support of vocation ministry, youth and young adult ministry, and social media and communications with my brothers and priests has been a great way to continue developing and honing skills, supporting those in more active, full-time ministry, and staying engaged in Church life. And it’s left me six days a week of flexible time to focus on our family life and household and weasel bits of work into the nooks and crannies where it more easily fits.

I can’t guarantee a comparable arrangement could fall into place for everyone, but I can say that open marital conversations, humble asks to beloved family members, honest conversations with professional contacts and supervisors, and a good sense of humor along the way are all needed ingredients to attempt to assemble such a puzzle.

I’m grateful God made me to be both husband/father and minister, and I’m grateful to be connected to people and communities that embrace these multiple vocations. But part of this is that I have greater peace knowing that this need not be the forever arrangement.

When will it end?

Theoretically, I’ll look to transition back to full-time work when Brigid starts kindergarten in fall of 2029, which would mark about 12½ years of home life. All the girls would be in full-day schools, and our coverage needs would trim down to before and after school time.

However, unlike when Lucy and Ceci were babies and I was fresher into this, I’d say I’m now more open to flipping the switch before then. On the one hand, I more frequently worry that I’m more burnt out than I realize or know, that my creativity and vigor isn’t what it once was for daily home life, or that maybe the kids would be better off with a fresh situation. But on the whole, I still relish assembling the week’s calendar and dropping in park district activities, library visits, zoo and arboretum outings, and playdates with friends and family.

Additionally, I wonder if, after another several years of professional ministry and networking and experience, if a certain opportunity may arise that is too good to pass up. Is there a role or set of ministries that draw me in? Is there a new configuration to family life or new compensation opportunity that can shift our parental and familial roles? Is there someone I know who comes to me with a major invitation?

Who knows.

I’d just say that when Lucy was a baby, I couldn’t even imagine shifting. Now, seven years and three kids into this, I have a little more curiosity as I consider the futures that may be ahead.

For now, my part-time role is perfect for flexibility and a professional outlet, and I’m calmly going bit by bit.

* * *

On the whole, I think of this call to stay-at-home parenting as a strong reflection of the free choice we hope every person and parent would be free to make. In social justice, we long for an economy in which each person can make a stable living and support themselves and their family, making holistic choices in freedom and love rather than totally by financial necessity. We still have a ways to go to universalize paid parental leave, make childcare more affordable and subsidize stay-at-home parents, and restructure the child tax credit to be direct payments to working-class and middle-class families. Because of my parents, my wife’s parents, our families, the education and development opportunities we’ve received all lifelong, Katherine and I now as spouses and parents can approach this with freedom where we can make this set of choices.

In my privilege, I can take my upbringing, my financial stability, and my education and choose to step away from the workforce and the economy and productivity and instead contribute by more directly raising my kids and serving my family. In my privilege, I can depend on my wife’s intelligence, competence, and excellence to earn an outstanding living for our family and work less for a salary and work more for my family.

I want parents to be able to make this choice with the primary motivation being their love of their families, and I’m grateful that we were free to choose this path in this freedom.

Bigger than Ourselves Ch. 6: Be Where Your Physical (and Virtual) Feet Are

by Dan Masterton

I had my first real pastoral ministry job in 2010. In various ways, for 13 years and counting, I’ve had opportunities to engage in faith-sharing, leadership training, and some mentorship and formation with young people.

One interesting question that’s come up in various ways amid various trends, largely from my asking, is “what’s the point or purpose of our technology and social media?” Young people have a wide range of answers, some praise and some complaints. A small few of them are even Luddites!

I’m not one to discourage young people from using the tech and devices and apps; I think that likely only fuels their rebelliousness. Instead, I challenge them to moderation. In shorthand, I like to tell them, “Social media and technology give us additional ways to communicate, but they also give us a ton of ways to ignore each other.”

Now, into the 2020s, I’d also add that they create a lot of avenues for sharing and communication, but these avenues often lead us to passivity and disconnection. In other words, we lose the primacy and importance of face-to-face relationship building and personal invitation.

What’s more, I think many, if not most, of us in some ways fancy ourselves as being influencers and consultants. It’s certainly a temptation I have to grapple with personally. And I think it’s an even greater challenge for people who are cooler and more popular than me, who gain followers, likes, shares, and comments with incredible ease.

When it comes to our faith, and the presence of Christ and the Gospel and our desire for right relationship and social justice, I think the Church, its institutions, its leaders, and its members need to be present online. The goal should be fidelity and witness, not sensationalism or personal vainglorious success.

Much like news media organizations – if they’re really to be doing public service and informing people – must prioritize reliable, timely reporting over sensational or tilted or cheap news while still trying to earn enough eyeballs to remain financially viable, the Church and we as Christians need to share an honest, true-to-life perspective and image of our lives of faith if we’re to be faithful.

The growth of Catholic influencers, personalities, and entrepreneurs is a mixed blessing, in my opinion. It certainly raises the profile of our faith when savvy, dynamic folks apply their media gift toward faith-based efforts. But I find the calculus regarding building and maintaining a following and then also remaining authentic, grounded, and faithful is dicey, to say the least.

In Chapter 6, Fr. Andrew falls prey to this allure, seeking to do a new media ministry in what is at least partially good faith but becoming nonetheless susceptible to the dog-eat-dog world of social media virality. It takes the steady hand, weathered perspective, and insightful voice of a veteran priest to help reset him – not to tear him down or rip away his ministerial impulse but to reshape it and set his feet down so the younger priest can just “be where your feet are.”

In a certain sense, I’m sure many of us in ministry would love to become consultants contracted to come in and give our opinions, speakers paid to travel and share our wisdom or facilitate discussions, personalities turned to for a valued and appreciated perspective. I think, to an extent, it’s healthy to want to be those things, to do those things. But the greatest need exists in serving locally, in building relationships with community members and neighbors right in front of you, and taking those next levels of outreach and ministry more gently as they spring forth from this local focus.

As always, the call is not to financial success or analytical engagement success but to ministerial fidelity. At our best, lay ministers are John the Baptist pointing to Christ, companions on the road to Emmaus contemplating Christ and breaking bread, disciples and apostles witnessing to Christ and bringing that Gospel to others by our words and our actions.

Bigger than Ourselves Ch. 5: Don't Do Service a Disservice

by Dan Masterton

High school campus ministry is a bit of an emerging field, a weird thing to say about a role in Catholic education that has been around for decades.

Often, this role is staffed not by those deeply, actively seeking such a role. It often goes to someone whose job is in danger of slipping to part-time who needs more responsibilities to maintain benefits. It often goes to a young, bright-eyed-and-bushy-tailed post-grad, maybe even there as part of a volunteer program, who may or may not have any experience in ministry, or training in theology or catechesis. It often falls to teachers or other staff members who add it onto an already fullish plate. It’s rarer that these jobs are done by people who would be overjoyed to do such a job for a long time, even a whole career’s worth.

As a result, people are often campus ministers who are only passing through – shepherding a program, in some various state of disrepair or efficacy, for a few years until their next thing. And thus, many folks are triaging or learning a few things on the fly or just treading water.

That said, there has been a mild shift over the last few years, at the least to more thoughtful engagement among active and former campus ministers. It’s thanks to professional sessions and informal gaggles at the annual National Catholic Educational Association (NCEA) conference, a vibrant Facebook group of these folks that the National Federation for Catholic Youth Ministry sponsors, and ongoing social ties between some regular suspects. As a result, more thought, more attention, and more development is happening.

As people come together, a few topics tend to fire up some ready-made input, as people respond to oft-asked questions with opinions that come from experience. Some major firestarters include when to place Kairos (junior year vs. senior year vs. a hybrid), whether or not to have co-ed small-groups and/or co-ed retreat experiences, and norms for planning and leading all-school liturgies. But perhaps the quickest, most lively debate springs from this big question: should service hours be required of Catholic high school students?

Whew.

The pros and cons are seemingly limitless, the stories of consolation and desolation varied and vivid. The consensus answer… well, there isn’t one.

In debates like this without a strong and compelling consensus, the practicality in my ministerial heart gravitates instead to best practices. Whether or not hours are required, what are positive, effective, meaningful things that campus ministers (and youth ministers accompanying confirmation candidates and other active teens, for that matter) can do with and for their young people?

Here’s a few from my experience and conversations:

Incorporate processing, hopefully working toward theological reflection.

Whether required or voluntary, service needs to be processed. Students who attend service outings need to process what they’ve been involved in, otherwise these are just more “things they’ve done” and will not turn into experienced memories.

Ideally, this will involve some level of theological processing, at least a see-judge-act type cycle. Here’s a simple way to use that in three rounds:

1. Describe what you saw, heard, and did during our visit. Describe who you saw, what they were like, and how you interacted with them.
2. Think about why this need exists. Why do people need this service? What are these people lacking? What historical, political, cultural, or spiritual factors might impact this need?
3. Consider how to act in response. What ways can you evolve your thinking and how you consider these social issues? In what ways can you take action to do charity by people in need and advocate for greater justice in our social systems?

Sometimes, all you can muster is a quick informal gaggle in the parking lot by the school van. Other times, maybe you can build in a 15-30 minute window back at school afterwards. Alternatively, maybe periodic gatherings could pool service participants from various trips into one larger group for processing. At minimum, it’d be ideal to have students briefly journal, even to just do step one from above in an iPhone note or on a little notepad.

As an introductory milestone, I always hope, especially that freshman and sophomores, can process their way past the very simplest, most basic realizations on their first or second trip. It’s good to “have my eyes opened,” to “become more grateful for what I have,” or to “not take things for granted.” Once they acknowledge these fundamentals, hopefully group sharing and faith mentorship can help them toward something more that seeks human solidarity with people on the margins and develops a mindset that desires more justice for forgotten neighbors.

Embrace a variety of experiences.

I used to be a bit sour on passive actions like drives, collections, and fundraisers, thinking time is better spent on direct service that aids people who are marginalized. But, as with many things Catholic, a both-and solution is ideal. There’s great benefit to these more passive service actions, too, especially as complementary activity to direct service.

First, they are a great low-barrier entry point to service. For those who are nervous about encountering new communities, it creates an avenue to become more active that starts shy of that. Collecting coats or clothes or money can meet a need, usually through an agency or organization, that starts to connect people, even if more indirectly. More creative tasks like making blankets, assembling care packs for people experiencing homelessness, or meal prep and sandwich stations for people who are hungry can facilitate more active, community-based and collaborative work.

This path also helps engage people who struggle to manage their busyness, works for younger groups who may not be mature enough for certain service sites, or makes an opportunity for groups who meet at times when direct service is difficult, such as Sunday night youth groups.

Either way, this collective charitable action is certainly worthwhile. Plus, a small encounter is still possible if a group from the action visits the agency to deliver the donations, and perhaps meets at least with staff who can educate them, if not also some of the clients or community members served.

From there, especially with teens, young adults, and older adults, service needs to involve direct encounter with people on the margins. Basic avenues include serving a food distribution at a food pantry or satellite distribution site; helping with food prep, meal service, and hospitality at a soup kitchen; supporting logistics and hospitality at a shelter for people experiencing homelessness, fleeing and recovering from abuse, settling after migration, or others.

Such direct encounter is huge for so many reasons, not least that it moves those serving to deeper thoughts than eye-openers and self-gratitude. Encounters with people on the margins put names, faces, and stories to issues easily abstracted. It enfleshes solidarity through moments of reciprocity, where greetings, conversation, and even tangible items of aid are exchanged in love.

These interactions are invaluable for helping young people, especially those coming from privilege, to discover the fullness of human dignity in all people in an incarnate, first-hand way. And it sews more fruitful seeds toward forming young people in a faith that seeks justice and spurs them to become greater advocates for that justice.

Strive for an immersion.

A next-level component that I’d hope for all young people to find in one of their faith communities is a service-learning and/or educational immersion.

Let’s walk through it by using the terms carefully and accurately.

First, an immersion differs from a service outing or a service trip because the group participating stays overnight at or near the community in which they’re serving and/or learning (rather than going home each night or to lodging separated significantly away from that community). Additionally, the group undertakes the vast majority of their experience serving, eating, praying, and communing in that community. For example, an urban service week in which suburban kids bus in from suburbs to parts of the city, go home each night to the suburbs, and sleep at their parish or their families’ homes would not be immersive; conversely, a group that travels to a rural community to assist with home building and repair and then sleeps in a community center or local campsite between their days of work would be undertaking an immersion.

A service-learning immersion takes the idea of processing one’s service and seeks to build out that process more fully. This style of immersion couples long periods of service – perhaps full mornings and afternoons – with intentional periods of processing reflection, faith-sharing, and prayer that aims to help young people think and pray about their work, and then form their hearts to become service-minded and justice-oriented.

An educational immersion taps into this same immersive structure but utilizes the time differently. Rather than providing direct service – such as building and repair, food pantry or soup kitchen hospitality, etc. – participants instead undertake learning opportunities. Typically, immersions focus on one topic or set of topics, such as immigration and migration or ecology and environment. The immersion then seeks to educate and inform students through intensive educational experiences.

These components would include things like presentations or Q&A’s with agency and organization leaders, walks through areas with experienced servant-leaders where participants learn about the issue and people it affects first-hand (i.e. migrant trails in the desert or homelessness encampments in cities), and interactions with people on the margins who are clients being served by agencies, to name a few.

Then, similar to other immersions, time is built in to include intentional periods of processing reflection, faith-sharing, and prayer that aims to help young people think and pray about their work, and then form their hearts to become service-minded and justice-oriented.

* * *

In Chapter 5, Larry is trying to get his food pantry streamlined, in part by optimizing his loyal band of older volunteers and complementing their constancy with the vitality and energy of young people. The outreach is tricky, and he has plenty of swings and misses. But when a group does show up, the results – both for the clients served and the young and old volunteers receiving them – are outstanding.

Direct service, in short, becomes a time when we often witness the best of people. And often, it’s the best of both sides of the encounter – the kind and humble people seeking assistance as well as the unpredictable young people. These small moments when we put God’s compassionate love into action are authentic glimpses of the Kingdom of God. Our world is brighter when these glimpses are longer and more frequent.

Bigger than Ourselves Ch. 4: Applying Renewed Thinking to Vocations and Discernment

by Dan Masterton

Vocations, vocations, vocations. Whew.

It’s certainly rare – but not nonexistent! – to hear of a diocese or a religious community where vocations to priesthood and religious life are abundant. There’s a myriad of reasons for this, accurate or overstated, to varying extents. If I had to put it concisely, I’d say we still generally take for granted that people who are baptized Catholic as infants and the families raising them will belong to a parish and participate in that community by Mass attendance and/or more. As a result, we struggle even to sustain the amount of parishes and ministries we have, let alone cultivate vocational awareness and discernment of one’s invitations from God.

In my time as a pastoral minister, and in four years and counting specifically focused on vocations ministry, I’d say there are two extremes too often envisioned or practiced. On the one hand, an old guard remembers a time when novitiates and pre-seminaries had ten new candidates each year with little more effort than prayer and invitation (often “invitold” invitations, at that), and assumes modern vocations will spring forth simply from private prayer and devotions, just “from God.” On the other hand, some folks imagine a very overt, recruitment mindset that is almost head-hunting faithful teens and young adults and trying to track them toward theological studies and religious formation.

In reality, an effective vocations ministry in the 2020s and beyond, one that will speak effectively to GenZ and subsequent generations, has to embrace some evolving norms. Here’s a few that I think are integral:

1. You have to present vocations with universal call language.

Start with baptism.

Identify the theologically central belief that we are all called to holiness.

Remind all the baptized faithful that they are all called to holiness, all called to embrace their nature as God’s beloved children, and all called to respond in loving service to others and God.

This needs to be something that all Christians understand at their spiritual cores.

2. Focus on states of life, vocational awareness, and a culture of discernment.

When speaking to youth and young adults, always acknowledge the full validity and complete fulfillment possible in living as a single person, married person, priest, or professed religious. We have to establish a new paradigm that sees vocation as one’s response to the gifts, passions, and talents that God gave each of us in creating us in love.

From there, we need the witness of people from each state of life to bring color and depth to their lived experience. And this must include religious men and women and priests and deacons. In this full palette of life, young people can see all paths possible and consider them each in good faith.

A major part of this is putting religious women and men and priests and deacons before young people to give witness. And when these religious and ordained people speak to youth, they need to state this spiritual truth: God is inviting young women to religious life, and God is inviting young men to religious and ordained life. And then ask them the question, not necessarily in a personal one-on-one way but at least to the young people as a group: could God be inviting you to religious life or priesthood? The seed needs to be planted intentionally.

3. Commit to accompaniment.

I always liked being a campus minister at a school rather than a pastoral minister at a parish. I liked the “captive audience,” knowing I had my students eight hours a day, five days a week, for the better part of nine months. It enabled me to focus on getting to know them, connecting their gifts and passions with ministry and service opportunities, and seeking to form them to be people of committed and lively faith. I know I would struggle immensely in a parish, where, at best, people come for Mass and maybe one youth event a week or month (or year!), and you’re often trying to build communities from scratch.

Now, with Catholic school enrollments often decreasing and parish populations, attendance, and Mass counts often decreasing, the opportunities to help young people discern and live out a vocation will come less from traditional avenues. We cannot rely on religious ed programs, Catholic high schools, and parish youth groups as strongly as we may have in past times. There needs to be more emphasis on tracking young people as they move on to college, trades, the military, and next steps, communicating by texts, social media direct messaging, calls and videochats, and perhaps videoconferencing or hybrid events (inasmuch as is possible and can be done according to safe environment standards as relates to minors and appropriate relationships between adults).

Vocations still do sometimes come through undergraduate years with young women and men entering formation out of college. But there needs to be more openness and attention to the mid-to-late 20s, 30s, and even 40s, as people live out different faith journeys and progressions, as people mature at different (often delayed) rates, and as people perhaps consider religious life and priesthood more seriously only at later points.

This is a trickier prospect since adults at these ages are only in familiar ecosystems at lower, less reliable rates and we may need to go and meet and engage them anew. We need to honor the differences between these older adults and teens/undergrads and invite their lived experience as independent adults, as professionals, and even as seekers and strugglers. And all of this newer ground has to be seen as potentially fertile for discernment and religious life/priesthood vocations.

* * *

In Chapter 4, Adam lets on, bit by bit, that he may be considering religious life, even just as a teen and new college student. Yet, for his apparent maturity and earlier sharing, it doesn’t mean his discernment will be direct, decisive, and final. As he invites his priest, his friends, and his parents into the circle of trust, there will be bumps in the road, mixed reactions, and a young man who is still growing and learning amid it all. For all the joy of his grace-filled discernment, there is a lot happening and a lot yet to come!

As religious communities and dioceses navigate new and changing norms, the ideals I’ve described here may not even be ideal in just a few years or so. But just as individuals need a growth mindset to be able to understand new things and adapt in positive ways, so, too, do institutions and leadership groups. Our vocation directors and ministers need to keep trying to understand generational trends and changes and do their best to be where young people are. If we can do this faithfully, I believe we will have the vocations we need to sustain the Church, and if that’s a lower number than we’re accustomed to having, then I believe the Holy Spirit can help us toward the evolutions needed to keep fueling our Church’s fire.