It's been a while. And as I sorted through the usual half-blog-posts that pop up in my mind as ideas needing to fleshed out in writing, I found myself unable to make the time for my hobbies, something I'd been habitually good at.
I hoped that this Christmas Break would give me the relaxation and rest I craved. As the classic Catholic School employee, despite my concerted effort to oppose the tendency, I have indeed overcommitted myself, in this instance, by becoming the head coach for the freshmen basketball team, alongside my full slate as the Campus Minister. I love coaching, and I love basketball. However, attempting to navigate the "choose your adventure" of being the first full-time campus minister at this school alongside sorting through the chores of head-coaching have left me in the position I wish most to avoid - doing a decent job at a lot of things instead of doing a great job at a few things. My idealism will surely be cut by the realities of adult life, especially as I add my own family to the mix.
Anywho, the relaxation of break is often helped, hurt, or a little of both by time with family. I do not stress out. I even moreso refuse to give into the holiday stress that people seem to seek out sometimes. This year involved juggling my own family and my girlfriend's family, which was challenging but beautiful, as we found ways (even if imperfect) to share our families with each other.
And now after Christmas, the resumption of basketball practice and a mini holiday tournament for the boys tomorrow ratchet the activity back up. And as the first day of the second semester draws closer, the thoughts of what awaits at work and the things I want to tackle in Campus Ministry begin to invade my mind. So when the time is there between family and coaching and the ever-racing mind to seize the rest, I try to do so.
Today, post-morning-basketball-practice that is, this involved napping, eating a snack, heading to Evanston for a Northwestern basketball game and dinner with my dad, and some relaxed time with my girlfriend as the cherry on top of a nice, easy day, before coming home to go to bed - er, write a blog.
On way home from Katherine's, an easy 3-block stroll through Lincoln Park, I was pretty empty-headed. Practice was solid; the NU game was lame; conversation with dad was enjoyable but didn't stir me to deep analysis of any kind. It was a placid saunter over the crunchy snow without anything to stir me to deep contemplation or obsessive thinking.
Then, just a few doors down from my apartment building, I happened upon a couple of guys struggling to get their Jeep out of its snowed-in parking spot so they could head home. A nearby woman was trying to find them a shovel, and another dude and his girlfriend had stopped to help. I joined the fray, and after a couple minutes of strategizing, three of us guys took to the tailgate to push while the fourth dude took to the gas as we all tried to rock the car out of snowy rut. One woman continued to look for a shovel while the other guarded her purse.
After a few attempts to urge the car out of its place, our strength and the gas pedal hadn't done the trick. The woman returned with a shovel, and the car's owner dug around the wheels, while declining her offer of her gloves to warm his bare hands. One final attempt, amid the encouragement amongst of us man-mules, and we helped force the car through the snow piles and out into the street.
I'd love to dramatize the story into something bigger and more colorful than that description, but it was simply a handful of people helping a car escape a snowed-in parking space in Chicago. We each went on our separate ways with a brief smile and words of gratitude. There was no grand gestures, no pretension, no false heroism. No one called attention to themselves for their contributions or the time they gave up. No one complained of the cold. It was simply a few people helping a few other people that needed help.
As someone who is fairly effective as a leader and fairly effective as a team-player/follower, I (surprisingly?) struggle in that area in between. If I am not leading or clearly being led, I can get easily frustrated as a contributor. My tendency is to yield, surrender, or even become indifferent, sitting back to a dangerous extent that borders on or even becomes detriment, or worse, apathy.
This was a moment I needed. True love is that which openly and warmly gives and receives. I was in the right place at the right time to give some help these people, and the opportunity to work with other people gave something to me. I had the chance to simply step in alongside others and lend a hand.
As the beginning of another semester of campus ministry looms, with all its challenges, known and yet unknown, here was a simple and clear reminder of the importance of helping others. And to do so authentically as part of a team, humbly embracing and inviting the help of others, working together.
I read several articles from America magazine on way to Evanston on the purple line, and I felt the wheels turning in my head, urging me to return to my Blogger platform to type again. Then before I could sort through it all and discern the truth speaking to my heart, a simple moment of loving teamwork showed me what I needed to learn tonight.
Thursday, January 2, 2014
Friday, November 22, 2013
Imperfecting
Every work day, I leave my apartment around 6:45am, and try to shoot through downtown Chicago and past the Circle Interchange before the rush hour traffic fully kicks in. Almost every day, I make it through downtown pretty cleanly en route to the school where I work in Hammond, Indiana, a few miles over the Illinois state line. The Chicago Skyway is more direct and cuts through the campus, but I take the Bishop Ford/I-94 to avoid a $4 toll each way.
Google Maps says it should take me 43 minutes, and I’m usually to work in a cool 40. Going home can be a different story, ranging from 45 to 90 minutes depending on the day, the weather, and the fickle (in)competence of my commuting brethren. The frustrating thing for me is not the 25-mile drive, the occasional traffic jam, or the construction-induced lane closings. What gets me is the little stuff.
I could make great time from school to 94, from 94 to the Circle, get through downtown cleanly, and be on track for a record time. Then, I’ll get to the off-ramp at North Ave., and it’ll be so backed up that it takes five cycles of the traffic light to turn onto the street. Or I’ll turn off the ramp in a timely fashion, then run into a monster line to turn left onto Sheffield. Or I’ll make it through to my front door in a career-best speed, and then there will be no parking spots within a block, leading to a 10-minute quest for the Holy Grail.
No matter what I do, what mindset I have, what “shortcuts” I think I’ve found, I cannot guarantee the perfect, record-breaking commute. If it’s not construction, it’ll be a traffic jam. If it’s not the parking spots, it’ll be a crash. If it’s not the commute, it’s something holding me up from leaving work. There’s simply no way to perfect the transaction. I can do due diligence in leaving early enough or taking the fastest route, but I cannot control everything. I have to accept that, many times, my commute will be far from perfect.
The same reality rears its head in ministry. Last year, as the liturgy coordinator and sacristan at a Catholic high school, I was partially responsible for completing the episcopal liturgy plan to submit to our diocesan office ahead of the bishops’ visits for Masses. There was obvious pressure to assemble everything competently and lay out a smooth Mass for the bishop to swoop in and celebrate.
Prepare as we tried, neither the form nor the Mass ever was perfect. One of my favorite moments came in completing the All Saints Day Mass form. Seeking to help our underresourced choir and choir director, I suggested the common psalms for Ordinary Time as options for the sung psalm at the Mass. She chose one, and we filed the form. Stupid me – All Saints Day is a solemnity, so no messing with the lectionary, which the bishop’s liturgist pointed out and corrected us (me) on.
When the bishops and their handlers did arrive for Mass, they were always happy to be there, gregarious, faithful. Yet eggshells remained as we undertook the liturgy. The first time bishop came, I was on edge and grimaced at each mistake and misstep.
After Mass ended and I had finished consorting with the episcopal handlers, I decided I’d certainly continue to put in a good effort in all the planning and coordination, but when Mass arrived and began, it was just time for Mass – no more tenuousness or nervousness. The Gathering Song marked the end of that stuff and the beginning of a celebration of Eucharist. Mass was worth more than any points we could score with the bishops’ office. My priority ought to be and became celebrating Mass, imperfect as any “work of the people” will be. Intentionally planned and orchestrated but humbly celebrated by flawed, imperfect humans, seeking to offer praise and worship to God.
Now, as a full-time campus minister, I have the ability to put fuller due diligence into the things I plan and lead, which only strengthens temptation. I might think that the attention to detail, the fastidious organization, and the quality time put into something will streamline it beyond doubt. However, reality never quite unfolds like that. Any retreat director can tell you how fast a retreat gets off schedule and the great elation that hits when one gets ahead.
The beauty comes in that first mistake – when you forgot to dictate a rule in the opening remarks, when you recognize a typo in the leaders’ manuals, when you say the wrong time for something to start or end. Once the perfection pursuit has ended, reality can be embraced. The retreat or Mass or activity can be what it should be, what God calls it to be instead of solely what I envision it to be.
On Kairos this week, it came when my chaplain realized he forgot his alb at school, and when we were a couple journal notebooks short. The moment was early and released us from any delusions of perfection and into a more realistic yet earnest and dedicated optimism.
God doesn’t call us to be successful; He calls us to be faithful. We shouldn’t glorify our mistakes, but rather than become frantic and panicked, we must learn from them and move on, doing better the next time. We must embrace mistakes as an opportunity for humility, a re-grounding in our romantic, human pursuit of seemingly unattainable ideals.
God loves us despite or even because of our imperfections, as long as we are working to grow in relationship to ourselves, others, and Him. May our ministries commit ever more to diligent intentionality and prayerful, reflective attention, as we confront, embrace, and grow from imperfections.
Google Maps says it should take me 43 minutes, and I’m usually to work in a cool 40. Going home can be a different story, ranging from 45 to 90 minutes depending on the day, the weather, and the fickle (in)competence of my commuting brethren. The frustrating thing for me is not the 25-mile drive, the occasional traffic jam, or the construction-induced lane closings. What gets me is the little stuff.
I could make great time from school to 94, from 94 to the Circle, get through downtown cleanly, and be on track for a record time. Then, I’ll get to the off-ramp at North Ave., and it’ll be so backed up that it takes five cycles of the traffic light to turn onto the street. Or I’ll turn off the ramp in a timely fashion, then run into a monster line to turn left onto Sheffield. Or I’ll make it through to my front door in a career-best speed, and then there will be no parking spots within a block, leading to a 10-minute quest for the Holy Grail.
No matter what I do, what mindset I have, what “shortcuts” I think I’ve found, I cannot guarantee the perfect, record-breaking commute. If it’s not construction, it’ll be a traffic jam. If it’s not the parking spots, it’ll be a crash. If it’s not the commute, it’s something holding me up from leaving work. There’s simply no way to perfect the transaction. I can do due diligence in leaving early enough or taking the fastest route, but I cannot control everything. I have to accept that, many times, my commute will be far from perfect.
The same reality rears its head in ministry. Last year, as the liturgy coordinator and sacristan at a Catholic high school, I was partially responsible for completing the episcopal liturgy plan to submit to our diocesan office ahead of the bishops’ visits for Masses. There was obvious pressure to assemble everything competently and lay out a smooth Mass for the bishop to swoop in and celebrate.
Prepare as we tried, neither the form nor the Mass ever was perfect. One of my favorite moments came in completing the All Saints Day Mass form. Seeking to help our underresourced choir and choir director, I suggested the common psalms for Ordinary Time as options for the sung psalm at the Mass. She chose one, and we filed the form. Stupid me – All Saints Day is a solemnity, so no messing with the lectionary, which the bishop’s liturgist pointed out and corrected us (me) on.
When the bishops and their handlers did arrive for Mass, they were always happy to be there, gregarious, faithful. Yet eggshells remained as we undertook the liturgy. The first time bishop came, I was on edge and grimaced at each mistake and misstep.
After Mass ended and I had finished consorting with the episcopal handlers, I decided I’d certainly continue to put in a good effort in all the planning and coordination, but when Mass arrived and began, it was just time for Mass – no more tenuousness or nervousness. The Gathering Song marked the end of that stuff and the beginning of a celebration of Eucharist. Mass was worth more than any points we could score with the bishops’ office. My priority ought to be and became celebrating Mass, imperfect as any “work of the people” will be. Intentionally planned and orchestrated but humbly celebrated by flawed, imperfect humans, seeking to offer praise and worship to God.
Now, as a full-time campus minister, I have the ability to put fuller due diligence into the things I plan and lead, which only strengthens temptation. I might think that the attention to detail, the fastidious organization, and the quality time put into something will streamline it beyond doubt. However, reality never quite unfolds like that. Any retreat director can tell you how fast a retreat gets off schedule and the great elation that hits when one gets ahead.
The beauty comes in that first mistake – when you forgot to dictate a rule in the opening remarks, when you recognize a typo in the leaders’ manuals, when you say the wrong time for something to start or end. Once the perfection pursuit has ended, reality can be embraced. The retreat or Mass or activity can be what it should be, what God calls it to be instead of solely what I envision it to be.
On Kairos this week, it came when my chaplain realized he forgot his alb at school, and when we were a couple journal notebooks short. The moment was early and released us from any delusions of perfection and into a more realistic yet earnest and dedicated optimism.
God doesn’t call us to be successful; He calls us to be faithful. We shouldn’t glorify our mistakes, but rather than become frantic and panicked, we must learn from them and move on, doing better the next time. We must embrace mistakes as an opportunity for humility, a re-grounding in our romantic, human pursuit of seemingly unattainable ideals.
God loves us despite or even because of our imperfections, as long as we are working to grow in relationship to ourselves, others, and Him. May our ministries commit ever more to diligent intentionality and prayerful, reflective attention, as we confront, embrace, and grow from imperfections.
Wednesday, October 23, 2013
Thoughts Before the Lord
At the school where I work, the junior theology class covers church history this semester. The teachers thought it would be a good supplement to the classroom learning to actually partake in Eucharistic Adoration, the origins of which had just come up in their discussion.
The teachers invited me to organize the Adoration for their classes, so I put together a basic outline. The classes had about 40 minutes in the chapel before the Lord, so I sprinkled in bits of input to break up the periods of silence, trying to facilitate a positive experience for a rather unchurched generation that has trouble with silence and pieties. We started with the sign of the cross and a simple prayer and invitation to approach Adoration with any of many kinds of reverent quiet. Every ten minutes, I offered something - a reading from 1 John 4 (God is love!), a rendition on guitar of Psalm 23: I Will Walk in the House of the Lord (Warner), a reading from the Gospel of John (I am the Bread of Life), and simple petitions.
As I tried to time the final prayers and concluding Our Father to beat the end of the period, I found an awkward delight in the fact that a loudspeaker for our school intercom is right in the middle of the chapel ceiling. At one point, our Dean broke into our silence to summon a couple dozen students to the office. But my favorite was the unapologetic, blaring noisiness of the period bell.
Whereas in the stark silence of monastic prayer, the abbot will firmly clack his ring against the wood of the choir stalls to signal the end of communal prayer, here in our all-too-small chapel, an utterly obtrusive five-second beep tells us to go forth. It's just one of many ways that a school is not a parish; rather than a church intermittently housing regular worship and support staff, it is a bustling, crowded, loud place, packed with activity and youth everywhere. Teachers walk past the door to make copies; students pass by on their way to the bathroom; maintenance workers go by corresponding by walkie-talkie.
As I sat in my place, kind of in the corner of our square chapel, sort of behind Jesus, I would occasionally glance around the chapel at the students, something I quickly stopped doing. Thinking back to my Adoration visits at Notre Dame, the silence and reverence for Christ and others' prayer was stark - no one said a word; the door was closed gingerly; and, prayerful postures and gestures abounded. A high school is neither a parish nor a university, so the postures and expression were different, and I had to resist temptation to label it as worse.
Looking around, it was much easier to tell which students were unfocused or uninterested than to identify the ones who were invested and reflecting. The repulsive postures, vacant facial expressions, and less-than-subtle snoring easily tempted me to think all of those students were not into Adoration. I had to stop myself, let them be, and leave it in God's hands.
As the periods went on - I was with six groups of students throughout the day - I would consider what their thoughts and attitudes might be as they sat there. As a campus minister and a faithful believer, I wanted badly for this to be a positive, enriching prayer experience, or at least the seeds of something yet to grow.
I looked to the monstrance (Also called an ostensorium!? I learned something today.) and thought - what a beautiful sacramental to emphasize the reality of Christ's closeness, and within it, Christ is present in the form of bread... why doesn't He do something crazy and awesome and miraculous to get these kids hooked!? How cool would it be if Jesus just spoke audibly from the host or leapt forth from the monstrance and embraced the students?!
And as I pored over the potential possibilities, I realized - man, Jesus is so much better than that.
Some people want a God who is wildly present in our lives and does sensational things like he did with the Israelites - the pillar of fire, commandments on stone, or raining bread. Yet, for us, God became man, lived, suffered, died, and rose from the dead to give us eternal life, and until He comes again, He gave us the Church and Eucharist, with the Holy Spirit. WE HAVE A LOT. And we're still obstinate in being luke-warm, half-way, lazy humans, putting the onus on God to come get us because we don't have time, attention, focus, or energy to discover Him and deepen our relationship with Him.
Jesus could do something crazy in Adoration, but that would likely lead to a cheap, shallow faith, based on something miraculous, yes, but not deeply rooted. Sure, it could be the start of something broader and deeper, but Jesus has already done A LOT of crazy stuff. Like becoming man. Like coming to us repeatedly in the Eucharist to sacramentalize that once-and-for-all sacrifice and His presence with us always in the Holy Spirit.
Getting teenagers and modern Americans there is the great challenge. The BuzzFeed culture has shortened our attention span and led us to avoid that which is not in bite-sized portions organized into best-of lists with punchy captions. We want stuff that's ready for quick, instant digestion that we then cast aside as we move to the next thing. How can bishops, priests, and lay ministers work with the rest of the faithful to realize the fullness of our Christian faith?
In our case today, we sat them in front of Jesus for forty minutes, fed them Scripture and song and a bit of formal prayer, and left them in the Lord's hands. We will continue to try many different things in the chances we have to bring them to the Lord and the Lord to them. At some point in each encounter with something, the Chrome tab closes; the iPhone gets locked and pocketed; the school bell rings.
Jesus doesn't wait until we're ready or deserving. He doesn't depend on our paying attention or insist upon winning our focus. He is working always, past every app, past every smartphone, past every bell. Jesus is looking for them, me, and you before we even find Him. But let's not wait. Find space in your life - you do have time, whether it's in a solemn monastery or a bustling place - to go before the Lord.
Tuesday, September 24, 2013
What do the Pope, Facebook, and Gardening Have in Common? (This post.)
A Little Buffet: Interview with the Pope, Facebook for Good, and Gardening
The Faith of Francis
The new interview with Pope Francis is out, and the average person and average Catholic is left to sift through the many news stories that seek to distill the lengthy interview into a palatable portion. Obviously, different media outlets have different editorial motivations to choose pulled quotes or otherwise summarize the conversation.
Ideally, the majority of people would read the whole interview, or at least open the primary source to view the transcript and skim through Francis' words for sections and subjects in which they are interested.
I'm not here to damn society for its habits, though I do fear the momentum of our BuzzFeed-ified style of gathering information. I think we can serve each other well by sharing our favorite parts with each other, so what I do want is to call attention to one of many bright spots in Francis' consistently inspiring message.
Francis is calling us to a more comprehensive, complete, lived faith. We don't need to cast aside the teachings we uphold, for they respond to the challenges of our times in light of the truth we know from Christ. We do need to broaden our perspective, and live out our faith beyond the parameters of any specific social issue.
Yes, abortion is wrong, but more than opposing pro-abortion laws and practices, how do we learn to love better, to better support mothers unsure about keeping their pregnancies, to strengthen the understanding of marriage and family? Birth control is wrong, but how do we develop a fuller understanding of sex, of self-gift, of parenthood? Homosexuality is a heavy cross to bear, but how do we better identify and magnify the dignity of homosexual people, love in relationship, and true expression of love?
Francis is exhorting us to live a faith that does not become boxed in by itinerant rigidity. We can call out sin in our society and in one another for what it is, but we are not militant policemen. We can simultaneously oppose social sin while also loving and calling to light the dignity of all people, all called to be ministers from Christ in baptism. Our faith can inform our politics and morality, but it is bigger than any issue or dispute. God calls us to live a faith that enfleshes His love, the love He showed by becoming Man, by dying and rising, and by sending us the Spirit to be with us always.
The Sunnyside of Social Media
Social media gets a bad rap these days. As with most any invention or new technology, people have used it for good as well as bad. We hear stories of cyberbullying, sometimes leading to suicides, of sexting and excessive sexualization of young people, of addiction, obsession, and self-absorbtion stemming from social media's growing dominance over people's lives.
Amid the darkness, there are plenty of times when social media helps bring light into the world. Like Good Samaritan-esque stories overshadowed by news of murders and shootings, good things are happening in the social media sphere. And even more importantly, as seen in this case, we can find God bringing the good that He always will bring from a potentially dark time.
A deeply beloved teacher was recently fired from my alma mater high school. The specifics of the circumstances are contentious and unclear, but our dear teacher took to social media to respond. He told all of us that he was in fact fired, that students were misled to believe that he had resigned, and that he was embracing this crossroads moment as a liberating opportunity in his life, concluding by saying, "I know God will not lead me down a path that is wrong for me. I want to thank all for the outpouring of support. You have touched me more than you know!"
There is always the back-and-forth of he-said-she-said conjectures, and we may never know the exact story. What we do know is that a man who was loved by 15+ years of students was now dismissed. He'd no longer man the post from which he made such a tremendous, positive impact on hundreds, if not thousands, of students lives.
Within a day of his sharing the sad news, 150 people had liked his post, and a beautiful stream of support, stories, and gratitude followed. Alumni came out of the woodwork to affirm and thank this great teacher and stand with him in a tough time.
50 comments in total tell the story of a swath of alumni and their concern, support, gratitude, and a host of other emotions in solidarity with our beloved teacher. Christ's victory on the cross showed us that nothing - not even literal crucifixion - was so bad that God could not work good from it. From Christ's cross came salvation for all, and from this tough time came love, community, and support for a man of Christ.
Planting the Seeds
Directing retreats is easily my favorite part of my job. The performer part of me, the part of me that makes me an introvert by only a small majority, enjoys being in front of a crowd, cracking jokes, being loud, breaking the ice, and defusing their awkwardness, even if by magnifying it. And the minister part of me loves seizing on that attention and guidance, on the budding community that can form on retreat, to push people to a meaningful, spiritually richer, faith-alive place.
The best part of all of that? Empowering youth to lead. The retreat is a blast, fun and one-of-a-kind in such a particular way. However, the training and communal preparation of a leadership team is the best to me. Walking the path of emotions and logistics is beautiful. How do you prepare a person and team to emotionally, mentally, and spiritually engage others while also giving them the tools - questions, a schedule, activities, etc. - that support that encounter? It's a challenge I embrace and dive into headlong.
I love to walk the prospective leaders through things dry-run style, exposing them to the same activities that they'll ask others to do - making them dance the dance, answer the questions, fill out the worksheets. Yet no matter what I do or say, we can't prepare for everything. I can only put in my best effort toward forming them to be capable on their own and then unleash them.
And inevitably, they face frustrations. They encounter students and groups who are even more extreme versions of the characters we role-played in practice small groups. They wonder if they've failed, or fallen short. And I try to remind them, as I remind myself in training them, that we can only do our best. We may never get to know the degree to which we succeeded in our leadership. We can only give our best most faithful effort and put it in their hands.
Ministry is a richly metaphor-ize-able topic, and I love gardening's applications to it. Ultimately as ministers, we are often gardeners. However, our gardening task may differ depending on the growth of the "plants". Sometimes, we are planting the seeds; sometimes, we are watering them; sometimes, we are pruning the branches on a shrub; sometimes, we are enjoying the fruit the tree bares; sometimes, we may end up resting comfortably in the shade of the tree. It is up to us to pay attention to the stage of the garden before us - in our small groups, in our schools and parishes, in our classrooms - and give our best effort toward gardening accordingly.
Whether it's an increasingly seasoned campus minister training upperclassmen or teenagers guiding freshmen on their first high school retreat, we must give our faithful effort in whatever stage of work lies in the vineyard, and then find peace in surrendering our effort and the encounter-in-faith by offering it up to God.
The Faith of Francis
The new interview with Pope Francis is out, and the average person and average Catholic is left to sift through the many news stories that seek to distill the lengthy interview into a palatable portion. Obviously, different media outlets have different editorial motivations to choose pulled quotes or otherwise summarize the conversation.
Ideally, the majority of people would read the whole interview, or at least open the primary source to view the transcript and skim through Francis' words for sections and subjects in which they are interested.
I'm not here to damn society for its habits, though I do fear the momentum of our BuzzFeed-ified style of gathering information. I think we can serve each other well by sharing our favorite parts with each other, so what I do want is to call attention to one of many bright spots in Francis' consistently inspiring message.
The church’s pastoral ministry cannot be obsessed with the transmission of a disjointed multitude of doctrines to be imposed insistently. Proclamation in a missionary style focuses on the essentials, on the necessary things: this is also what fascinates and attracts more, what makes the heart burn, as it did for the disciples at Emmaus. We have to find a new balance; otherwise even the moral edifice of the church is likely to fall like a house of cards, losing the freshness and fragrance of the Gospel. The proposal of the Gospel must be more simple, profound, radiant. It is from this proposition that the moral consequences then flow.Amid this section of the dialogue, Francis insists upon a bigger manifestation of the faith that fuels our being. Yes, the Church has strict, absolute teachings on divisive moral and social issues. Yes, the Church's positions can be unpopular and come off as dismissive or intolerant. The challenge for Catholics then becomes to delve more deeply into the truths and realities of our faith, strive toward understanding, and share that wider faith that proceeds from our God of total unity.
Francis is calling us to a more comprehensive, complete, lived faith. We don't need to cast aside the teachings we uphold, for they respond to the challenges of our times in light of the truth we know from Christ. We do need to broaden our perspective, and live out our faith beyond the parameters of any specific social issue.
Yes, abortion is wrong, but more than opposing pro-abortion laws and practices, how do we learn to love better, to better support mothers unsure about keeping their pregnancies, to strengthen the understanding of marriage and family? Birth control is wrong, but how do we develop a fuller understanding of sex, of self-gift, of parenthood? Homosexuality is a heavy cross to bear, but how do we better identify and magnify the dignity of homosexual people, love in relationship, and true expression of love?
Francis is exhorting us to live a faith that does not become boxed in by itinerant rigidity. We can call out sin in our society and in one another for what it is, but we are not militant policemen. We can simultaneously oppose social sin while also loving and calling to light the dignity of all people, all called to be ministers from Christ in baptism. Our faith can inform our politics and morality, but it is bigger than any issue or dispute. God calls us to live a faith that enfleshes His love, the love He showed by becoming Man, by dying and rising, and by sending us the Spirit to be with us always.
The Sunnyside of Social Media
Social media gets a bad rap these days. As with most any invention or new technology, people have used it for good as well as bad. We hear stories of cyberbullying, sometimes leading to suicides, of sexting and excessive sexualization of young people, of addiction, obsession, and self-absorbtion stemming from social media's growing dominance over people's lives.
Amid the darkness, there are plenty of times when social media helps bring light into the world. Like Good Samaritan-esque stories overshadowed by news of murders and shootings, good things are happening in the social media sphere. And even more importantly, as seen in this case, we can find God bringing the good that He always will bring from a potentially dark time.
A deeply beloved teacher was recently fired from my alma mater high school. The specifics of the circumstances are contentious and unclear, but our dear teacher took to social media to respond. He told all of us that he was in fact fired, that students were misled to believe that he had resigned, and that he was embracing this crossroads moment as a liberating opportunity in his life, concluding by saying, "I know God will not lead me down a path that is wrong for me. I want to thank all for the outpouring of support. You have touched me more than you know!"
There is always the back-and-forth of he-said-she-said conjectures, and we may never know the exact story. What we do know is that a man who was loved by 15+ years of students was now dismissed. He'd no longer man the post from which he made such a tremendous, positive impact on hundreds, if not thousands, of students lives.
Within a day of his sharing the sad news, 150 people had liked his post, and a beautiful stream of support, stories, and gratitude followed. Alumni came out of the woodwork to affirm and thank this great teacher and stand with him in a tough time.
50 comments in total tell the story of a swath of alumni and their concern, support, gratitude, and a host of other emotions in solidarity with our beloved teacher. Christ's victory on the cross showed us that nothing - not even literal crucifixion - was so bad that God could not work good from it. From Christ's cross came salvation for all, and from this tough time came love, community, and support for a man of Christ.
Planting the Seeds
Directing retreats is easily my favorite part of my job. The performer part of me, the part of me that makes me an introvert by only a small majority, enjoys being in front of a crowd, cracking jokes, being loud, breaking the ice, and defusing their awkwardness, even if by magnifying it. And the minister part of me loves seizing on that attention and guidance, on the budding community that can form on retreat, to push people to a meaningful, spiritually richer, faith-alive place.
The best part of all of that? Empowering youth to lead. The retreat is a blast, fun and one-of-a-kind in such a particular way. However, the training and communal preparation of a leadership team is the best to me. Walking the path of emotions and logistics is beautiful. How do you prepare a person and team to emotionally, mentally, and spiritually engage others while also giving them the tools - questions, a schedule, activities, etc. - that support that encounter? It's a challenge I embrace and dive into headlong.
I love to walk the prospective leaders through things dry-run style, exposing them to the same activities that they'll ask others to do - making them dance the dance, answer the questions, fill out the worksheets. Yet no matter what I do or say, we can't prepare for everything. I can only put in my best effort toward forming them to be capable on their own and then unleash them.
And inevitably, they face frustrations. They encounter students and groups who are even more extreme versions of the characters we role-played in practice small groups. They wonder if they've failed, or fallen short. And I try to remind them, as I remind myself in training them, that we can only do our best. We may never get to know the degree to which we succeeded in our leadership. We can only give our best most faithful effort and put it in their hands.
Ministry is a richly metaphor-ize-able topic, and I love gardening's applications to it. Ultimately as ministers, we are often gardeners. However, our gardening task may differ depending on the growth of the "plants". Sometimes, we are planting the seeds; sometimes, we are watering them; sometimes, we are pruning the branches on a shrub; sometimes, we are enjoying the fruit the tree bares; sometimes, we may end up resting comfortably in the shade of the tree. It is up to us to pay attention to the stage of the garden before us - in our small groups, in our schools and parishes, in our classrooms - and give our best effort toward gardening accordingly.
Whether it's an increasingly seasoned campus minister training upperclassmen or teenagers guiding freshmen on their first high school retreat, we must give our faithful effort in whatever stage of work lies in the vineyard, and then find peace in surrendering our effort and the encounter-in-faith by offering it up to God.
Wednesday, September 11, 2013
Team Prayer Service: Unique While One in Christ
From time to time, the delights of my job as campus minister give me the platform to speak to the school or groups of students. Here is the talk (followed by the readings I chose) I gave at the weekly football team prayer service, the first part of the team's preparations between the end of the school day and their Friday night games.
The past few years, the NBA has become increasingly dominated by “super-teams.” People forget, but the Celtics were the ones who really started it when they traded for Kevin Garnett and Ray Allen to join Paul Pierce, and they won a championship. Miami followed suit and has won two championships, and teams like the Lakers, Nets, and Knicks have tried to copy the super-team approach without much success.
Two years ago, as NFL training camps geared up, the Eagles signed free agent QB Vince Young to backup the oft-injured Michael Vick. Earlier that offseason, the Eagles had made some big splashes. They signed top free agents CB Nnamdi Ashomugha and DE Jason Babin to expensive contracts. They shipped out Kevin Kolb for cover-corner Dominique Rodgers-Cromartie and a high draft pick. And then they added Young as a high-profile backup to their flashy starting QB.
When the Eagles introduced Young at a press conference, he was asked about the impressive roster the Eagles had assembled for the 2011 season. Without hesitation, he told them, “Dream team,” and added, “It's beautiful to see where we're trying to go.”
Young's line would be replayed over and over that year as the Eagles started the season 4-8 and never really threatened for playoff contention. Young had evaluated his team based on how famous its players were, how much money people were getting paid, and how much attention they had gotten in the media. When he uttered that infamous line, he hadn't even stepped on the field yet with this “dream team.” And when he did, he must have quickly realized that no matter how good the team looked on paper, none of that mattered when they couldn't back it up on the field.
What's a real Dream Team? Quick history lesson: the 1992 USA Men's Basketball Team. The real Dream Team. The original Dream Team. 11 of its 12 members are in the Basketball Hall of Fame. Early in their olympic preparations, during a scrimmage against a team made up of college players, Coach Chuck Daly intentionally made dumb substitutions and poor coaching decisions. Coach Daly knew the team would lose and intended for them to get frustrated and motivated. It worked. As the 1992 Olympics, they went undefeated as a team, winning on average by 45 points. The best players of that era – many of them among the greatest of all time – understood that they were part of one of the greatest teams ever and adjusted their styles to form an unstoppable team and absolutely dominate the international competition.
What stops groups from getting there? Why couldn't Kobe, Nash, Gasol, and Howard dominate last year? Why don't the Yankees win the World Series year-in and year-out? Why did the Eagles' “dream team” fizzle out?
Teams have to realize the importance of their identity. Dwight Howard didn't buy into being a part of Kobe's Laker dynasty. The Yankees' players probably get complacent once they've gotten big money contracts. The Eagles big acquisitions didn't come together as a team.
For you guys, you have to consider to yourselves – Who am I on this team?
What do I mean to my teammates on the field?... What's your position? What are your assignments for each formation? What's your responsibility for each play?
What do I mean to my teammates off the field?... Who needs my support? What players can I help by reviewing positioning and technique? What players can I go to with questions about my own game? What teammates will pick me up when I'm down? Who can I fire up?
I'm a baseball player, and I've been a baseball coach. I never played high school football, but I can tell you about high school baseball players. Most of the guys head to the field, walk to the on deck circle, or take the pitcher's mound with their stats firmly in mind.
Guys can tell you how many errors they've made, or not made. Hitters have a running tally of their RBI and a live number for their batting average. Pitchers could tell you their ERA on an inning-by-inning basis. Baseball players get obsessed with their stats, and it becomes really easy to become distracted from the team, and the most important stat – the W column. Guys become more worried about their batting average and ERA than the outcome of the game.
When I was a starting pitcher, I was the same way. When a hitter made contact, as I'd watch the play and move to cover my responsibility, I'd judge whether or not it was an error or hit and recalculate my ERA and stats as I walked back to the mound. Some games, I'd be more focused on getting outs and keeping us in the game. Other games, my mental attention to my own stat sheet only made the outcome worse for me and my team.
It was an epidemic for us. Most guys knew their own stats as well as the stats of their teammates and could readily produce arguments on why they should be pitching or in the starting lineup rather than that guy who's out there, including my teammate, Mike.
One of our players was named Dante. He was the QB from our football team. He had never really played much baseball, but he still made the baseball team without attending tryouts; coach used him as a pitcher and a right-fielder. Mike was next to me on the bench while Dante started that game, and Mike didn't like when Dante played or pitched instead of him. In the middle of the game, Dante came up with the bases loaded, after already driving in a couple runs earlier in the game. This at-bat, he got a pitch on the outer half of the plate and hit it to the opposite field, out toward the scoreboard and up into the wind blowing out to right field. The ball carried over the wall for a grand slam and kept us in the game when we were trailing big. I couldn't believe how well Dante was hitting that day. Neither could Mike. Earlier in the game he had made his case against Dante playing, and now as Dante rounded the bases, Mike quietly said to me, “Even a blind squirrel finds a nut once in a while.”
Rather than be happy for our team and for our teammate, Mike was obsessively fixated on his individual stuff. Even if Dante's spot on our team wasn't earned, even if he got special treatment, he was still a teammate. He was still playing hard. He was still helping our team try to win.
In two years, my baseball teams won 13 games. We lost 47. Forty-seven. We laughed under our breath when our coach yelled at us. We were slow and lazy getting ready for games. We buried a message in a bottle in the dugout sand as we blew a 10-run lead and got slaughtered by mercy rule.
We knew how to make each other laugh and have a good time, but we had no idea what it meant to be a team, to focus on a goal together. We knew our own stats, but I doubt many guys knew our record. We looked out for ourselves and knew what we produced when we got playing time, but we never worked toward becoming a team and forging an identity.
Jesus asks his disciples what people are saying about Him. People are still figuring Jesus out. They know He is wise and holy and loving, but they're not sure what His deal is. Is he a reincarnation of Elijah or Jeremiah? Is he a new prophet from God? Is he like John the Baptist?
Jesus asks Peter what he thinks personally, and Peter hits it out of the park. Peter goes out on a limb and admits that he knows that Jesus is the Son of God. Almost like a game show announcer telling a contestant what he's won, Jesus embraces Peter with support and love.
Jesus is so proud of Peter that he makes him the leader of the group. Jesus tells Peter that He'll support whatever Peter does to guide believers, and this is where we get the tradition of a pope. The pope is meant to follow this call that Jesus gives to Peter to unite and guide Christ's people all over the world. Peter's conversation with Jesus is one of things that gives our “team”, our Christian community, its identity. Peter's profound faith in Christ leads Jesus to make him our leader, someone around whom we can unite as we try to follow Christ.
In the first reading, Paul told us that even with our unique qualities, we are part of one group together. For people in Paul's time, it didn't matter if they were Jewish or Greek people. It didn't matter if they were free-men or slaves. They were one in Jesus Christ. Their belief in Him, their baptism into His life, death, and resurrection united them.
For us today, the same idea continues. We know Christ is the Son of God. Regardless of whether we live in Illinois or Indiana, regardless of whether we come from white, black, Latino or any other heritage, regardless of being freshmen or seniors, we at Bishop Noll know we are one together in Christ.
Jesus pats Peter on the back because he knew it and was not afraid to say it. Peter's faithful commitment to Christ helps solidify Peter's identity. When we recognize that God made us and loves us, that he sent Jesus and the Holy Spirit to show us His love, we too find our identity. No matter if we're male or female, black or white, rich or poor, young or old, we are all united in Christ.
So think about this team: What sets you apart? What makes you unique? What do you bring to the table that is special to just you?
For your team – How can you contribute that to an identity that's bigger than just yourself? How do you share yourself in a way that helps others and makes the group better?
It all is built on Christ. As we try to learn what makes us unique as individuals, as we try to learn how we can contribute ourselves to the team, we can start from our unity in Christ. And as Bishop Noll students, as members of the Warriors football team, we must build everything on that reality. We are all one in Christ.
First Reading
A reading from the letter of St. Paul to the Galatians:
For through faith you are all children of God in Christ Jesus.
For all of you who were baptized into Christ
have clothed yourselves with Christ.
There is neither Jew nor Greek,
there is neither slave nor free person,
there is not male and female;
for you are all one in Christ Jesus.
And if you belong to Christ,
then you are Abraham’s descendant,
heirs according to the promise.
Two years ago, as NFL training camps geared up, the Eagles signed free agent QB Vince Young to backup the oft-injured Michael Vick. Earlier that offseason, the Eagles had made some big splashes. They signed top free agents CB Nnamdi Ashomugha and DE Jason Babin to expensive contracts. They shipped out Kevin Kolb for cover-corner Dominique Rodgers-Cromartie and a high draft pick. And then they added Young as a high-profile backup to their flashy starting QB.
When the Eagles introduced Young at a press conference, he was asked about the impressive roster the Eagles had assembled for the 2011 season. Without hesitation, he told them, “Dream team,” and added, “It's beautiful to see where we're trying to go.”
Young's line would be replayed over and over that year as the Eagles started the season 4-8 and never really threatened for playoff contention. Young had evaluated his team based on how famous its players were, how much money people were getting paid, and how much attention they had gotten in the media. When he uttered that infamous line, he hadn't even stepped on the field yet with this “dream team.” And when he did, he must have quickly realized that no matter how good the team looked on paper, none of that mattered when they couldn't back it up on the field.
What's a real Dream Team? Quick history lesson: the 1992 USA Men's Basketball Team. The real Dream Team. The original Dream Team. 11 of its 12 members are in the Basketball Hall of Fame. Early in their olympic preparations, during a scrimmage against a team made up of college players, Coach Chuck Daly intentionally made dumb substitutions and poor coaching decisions. Coach Daly knew the team would lose and intended for them to get frustrated and motivated. It worked. As the 1992 Olympics, they went undefeated as a team, winning on average by 45 points. The best players of that era – many of them among the greatest of all time – understood that they were part of one of the greatest teams ever and adjusted their styles to form an unstoppable team and absolutely dominate the international competition.
What stops groups from getting there? Why couldn't Kobe, Nash, Gasol, and Howard dominate last year? Why don't the Yankees win the World Series year-in and year-out? Why did the Eagles' “dream team” fizzle out?
Teams have to realize the importance of their identity. Dwight Howard didn't buy into being a part of Kobe's Laker dynasty. The Yankees' players probably get complacent once they've gotten big money contracts. The Eagles big acquisitions didn't come together as a team.
For you guys, you have to consider to yourselves – Who am I on this team?
What do I mean to my teammates on the field?... What's your position? What are your assignments for each formation? What's your responsibility for each play?
What do I mean to my teammates off the field?... Who needs my support? What players can I help by reviewing positioning and technique? What players can I go to with questions about my own game? What teammates will pick me up when I'm down? Who can I fire up?
I'm a baseball player, and I've been a baseball coach. I never played high school football, but I can tell you about high school baseball players. Most of the guys head to the field, walk to the on deck circle, or take the pitcher's mound with their stats firmly in mind.
Guys can tell you how many errors they've made, or not made. Hitters have a running tally of their RBI and a live number for their batting average. Pitchers could tell you their ERA on an inning-by-inning basis. Baseball players get obsessed with their stats, and it becomes really easy to become distracted from the team, and the most important stat – the W column. Guys become more worried about their batting average and ERA than the outcome of the game.
When I was a starting pitcher, I was the same way. When a hitter made contact, as I'd watch the play and move to cover my responsibility, I'd judge whether or not it was an error or hit and recalculate my ERA and stats as I walked back to the mound. Some games, I'd be more focused on getting outs and keeping us in the game. Other games, my mental attention to my own stat sheet only made the outcome worse for me and my team.
It was an epidemic for us. Most guys knew their own stats as well as the stats of their teammates and could readily produce arguments on why they should be pitching or in the starting lineup rather than that guy who's out there, including my teammate, Mike.
One of our players was named Dante. He was the QB from our football team. He had never really played much baseball, but he still made the baseball team without attending tryouts; coach used him as a pitcher and a right-fielder. Mike was next to me on the bench while Dante started that game, and Mike didn't like when Dante played or pitched instead of him. In the middle of the game, Dante came up with the bases loaded, after already driving in a couple runs earlier in the game. This at-bat, he got a pitch on the outer half of the plate and hit it to the opposite field, out toward the scoreboard and up into the wind blowing out to right field. The ball carried over the wall for a grand slam and kept us in the game when we were trailing big. I couldn't believe how well Dante was hitting that day. Neither could Mike. Earlier in the game he had made his case against Dante playing, and now as Dante rounded the bases, Mike quietly said to me, “Even a blind squirrel finds a nut once in a while.”
Rather than be happy for our team and for our teammate, Mike was obsessively fixated on his individual stuff. Even if Dante's spot on our team wasn't earned, even if he got special treatment, he was still a teammate. He was still playing hard. He was still helping our team try to win.
In two years, my baseball teams won 13 games. We lost 47. Forty-seven. We laughed under our breath when our coach yelled at us. We were slow and lazy getting ready for games. We buried a message in a bottle in the dugout sand as we blew a 10-run lead and got slaughtered by mercy rule.
We knew how to make each other laugh and have a good time, but we had no idea what it meant to be a team, to focus on a goal together. We knew our own stats, but I doubt many guys knew our record. We looked out for ourselves and knew what we produced when we got playing time, but we never worked toward becoming a team and forging an identity.
Jesus asks his disciples what people are saying about Him. People are still figuring Jesus out. They know He is wise and holy and loving, but they're not sure what His deal is. Is he a reincarnation of Elijah or Jeremiah? Is he a new prophet from God? Is he like John the Baptist?
Jesus asks Peter what he thinks personally, and Peter hits it out of the park. Peter goes out on a limb and admits that he knows that Jesus is the Son of God. Almost like a game show announcer telling a contestant what he's won, Jesus embraces Peter with support and love.
Jesus is so proud of Peter that he makes him the leader of the group. Jesus tells Peter that He'll support whatever Peter does to guide believers, and this is where we get the tradition of a pope. The pope is meant to follow this call that Jesus gives to Peter to unite and guide Christ's people all over the world. Peter's conversation with Jesus is one of things that gives our “team”, our Christian community, its identity. Peter's profound faith in Christ leads Jesus to make him our leader, someone around whom we can unite as we try to follow Christ.
In the first reading, Paul told us that even with our unique qualities, we are part of one group together. For people in Paul's time, it didn't matter if they were Jewish or Greek people. It didn't matter if they were free-men or slaves. They were one in Jesus Christ. Their belief in Him, their baptism into His life, death, and resurrection united them.
For us today, the same idea continues. We know Christ is the Son of God. Regardless of whether we live in Illinois or Indiana, regardless of whether we come from white, black, Latino or any other heritage, regardless of being freshmen or seniors, we at Bishop Noll know we are one together in Christ.
Jesus pats Peter on the back because he knew it and was not afraid to say it. Peter's faithful commitment to Christ helps solidify Peter's identity. When we recognize that God made us and loves us, that he sent Jesus and the Holy Spirit to show us His love, we too find our identity. No matter if we're male or female, black or white, rich or poor, young or old, we are all united in Christ.
So think about this team: What sets you apart? What makes you unique? What do you bring to the table that is special to just you?
For your team – How can you contribute that to an identity that's bigger than just yourself? How do you share yourself in a way that helps others and makes the group better?
It all is built on Christ. As we try to learn what makes us unique as individuals, as we try to learn how we can contribute ourselves to the team, we can start from our unity in Christ. And as Bishop Noll students, as members of the Warriors football team, we must build everything on that reality. We are all one in Christ.
__________
Readings
A reading from the letter of St. Paul to the Galatians:
For through faith you are all children of God in Christ Jesus.
For all of you who were baptized into Christ
have clothed yourselves with Christ.
There is neither Jew nor Greek,
there is neither slave nor free person,
there is not male and female;
for you are all one in Christ Jesus.
And if you belong to Christ,
then you are Abraham’s descendant,
heirs according to the promise.
Gospel
A reading from the Holy Gospel according to Matthew:
[Jesus] asked his disciples,
A reading from the Holy Gospel according to Matthew:
[Jesus] asked his disciples,
"Who do people say that the Son of Man is?"
They replied, "Some say John the Baptist,
others Elijah, still others Jeremiah or one of the prophets."
He said to them,
"But who do you say that I am?"
Simon Peter said in reply,
"You are the Messiah, the Son of the living God."
Jesus said to him,
"Blessed are you, Simon son of Jonah.
For flesh and blood has not revealed this to you,
but my heavenly Father.
And so I say to you,
you are Peter, and upon this rock I will build my church,
and the gates of the netherworld shall not prevail against it.
I will give you the keys to the kingdom of heaven.”
Friday, September 6, 2013
Relationship or Public Relations?
I just can't seem to resolve the internal tensions I'm feeling in the midst of this heated-up battle for the smart-phone market share.
Nokia is trying to take a bite out of it with ads that emphasize the power of their "reinvented zoom" on the smart phone camera that enables you take amazing pictures. No problem there. But it's the way they pitch it.
Much like Apple's pedestal-ization of the power of the iPhone's camera, iTunes, and FaceTime features, this new ad centers on a moment at a concert during which a girl takes a photo of the stage, uses the new zoom and crop to create a really sharp image of the performer, and quickly shares it with friends. We then see a montage of her friends' guffaw over what they think are her awesome seats.
Things that are ok: taking pictures at concert, sharing your experience with friends, being jealous of or impressed by or excited for friends' exploits.
Things that are dangerous: staring at your phone rather than the world around you, especially in the midst of a special experience like a live concert; having to share such experiences or know about others' immediately; needing to provoke a reaction via texts or social media.
I stopped the fast forward on a DVR-watch to review this commercial when it came up, wanting to hear my girlfriend's reaction as compared to mine, to see if my interpretation was ridiculous.
We started by expressing frustration at the girl's tunnel-vision, looking down into the funnel of light emanating from her backlit screen amid the hullabaloo of a concert.
Then we thought about how just being at the concert, and being there with a friend, was insufficient. The photo had to be shared - in this case, her friends also craved immediacy in pulling their phones out immediately and expressing mostly disbelief and jealousy.
We finished wondering - building off this growing impulse we feel to be documentarians of all things we experience - if because of the ease of doing video, photo, FaceTime, check-ins or status updates, we cannot resist providing a constantly refreshed stream of self-identification to the world. And if we cannot resist having tight control and immediate broadcast ability.
We as humans have always felt anxious about how others perceive us. In the past, we turned mainly to physical trappings. We might alter the way we dress, the way we talk, the expressions we use, the places we go to hang out, our hairstyle, etc. Now, the plethora of social media accounts out there provide a huge opportunity for people to control the flow of information about themselves and supply people with a very particular image.
Instagram provides your life in photos. Twitter broadcasts the stream of consciousness. Snapchat and Vine send around the mundane or sudden ideas. Foursquare and other "check-in" apps let people know where you've been and where you are. Pinterest shares your creativity. Tumblr, Blogger, Wordpress and others give you an online forum. Facebook does most all these things and more.
Everyone can basically become their own PR-firm, crafting the spread of information and updates about their exploits day-by-day, hour-by-hour, minute-by-minute.
This can be a blessing and a curse. All technology can be used for good or bad. It's up to us to decide what to do with the power in the palms of our hands.
Sometimes, technology enables us to communicate with others more than we ever could before. It becomes a supplemental way for us to bridge the gap between encounters in the traditional ways (face-to-face conversation, nights out, etc). We get into trouble when the technology becomes the primary way we communicate with others (there are times when distance and/or time make it more necessary to resort to this) and takes a big bite out of traditional encounters. Worse, we really dehumanize ourselves when our mode of interaction and expression becomes solely electronic.
We become shadows of ourselves when we rely on a technological tapestry of our activity to define ourselves and show others who we are. Posts to social media can provide fodder to our friends that allow them to stay better plugged into the happenings of our lives. Checking in on friends online can be a great starting point to the next conversation you get to have with a person. The danger comes when our desire to keep tabs on a friend's life devolves into the only way we stay appraised of their lives.
This might be ok for old acquaintances from school or friends you might only care to see once in a blue moon. However, if our primary relationships - with parents, siblings, and best friends - evolve into this mode, the nourishment we need, the love that our being calls us to can give and receive back in kind, gets diluted. We go thirsty and find great difficulty finding legitimate sustenance through solely or heavily electronic relationship.
Let me offer myself as a case study, and cast the first stone at myself.
Pros? I turned off those little red numbers on my phone that tell me how many notifications I have in my Gmail or Facebook, and they also can no longer pop up in my lock screen. The camera in the iPhone is great, and it allows me snap pictures even if I forget or choose not to bring my point-and-shoot digital camera; plus, it syncs automatically to my laptop and is nifty for stuff at work and boosting my social media accounts there. Relatedly, I'm building a Twitter and Facebook following to try to get campus ministry and faith into the news-feed streams of teenagers and redeem some of the chatter that saturates those worlds. Finally, my dad loves picture messaging, especially about places we'd like to go as a family but can't necessarily all get to at the same time - sporting events, dinners out, visits to friends.
Cons? Texting and emailing is easier than ever, and my balance between just calling and/or visiting friends or co-workers in person can be tenuous. An in-person conversation can be so much more immediate and conclusive than the up-in-the-air-ness of email that I lean on too heavily. I, too, shoot photos and videos at sporting events and concerts. I try to limit myself to a select few pictures or a short video or two, but temptation can be strong. I think I did ok lucking into on-the-field seats at Notre Dame last weekend, and I only hope the memory is ingrained strongly from that one-of-a-kind experience. Most obsessively, I love the geo-tagging on Facebook. I love to post statuses or pictures on location and add locations to photos I post in batches. I meticulously went back in time and geo-tagged my photos on Facebook because I loved the map feature on my timeline and how it illustrated all the places I've been. It's definitely a guilty pleasure, and I know I've used it to brag.
What do you think? How do your social media and wireless capabilities affect your desire to create or control perception of you? Are you just telling it like it is and simply providing a link for people into your life? Are you very consciously and editorially choosing particular things to tailor an image? Are you complementing relationships through your usage or replacing interpersonal encounters with technological activity?
Even if you think your usage isn't troublesome, what about your intentions or motivations? Why are you checking in with a status and tagging the location? Why are you taking an Instagram of that sunset? Why are you checking your mail or refreshing your newsfeed?
At the end of the day, is the way that each of us use the technology at our fingertips oriented toward relationship or our own public image and perception? Is it emphasizing or belittling our humanity? Is it enhancing or diluting our human relationships?
Nokia is trying to take a bite out of it with ads that emphasize the power of their "reinvented zoom" on the smart phone camera that enables you take amazing pictures. No problem there. But it's the way they pitch it.
Much like Apple's pedestal-ization of the power of the iPhone's camera, iTunes, and FaceTime features, this new ad centers on a moment at a concert during which a girl takes a photo of the stage, uses the new zoom and crop to create a really sharp image of the performer, and quickly shares it with friends. We then see a montage of her friends' guffaw over what they think are her awesome seats.
Things that are ok: taking pictures at concert, sharing your experience with friends, being jealous of or impressed by or excited for friends' exploits.
Things that are dangerous: staring at your phone rather than the world around you, especially in the midst of a special experience like a live concert; having to share such experiences or know about others' immediately; needing to provoke a reaction via texts or social media.
I stopped the fast forward on a DVR-watch to review this commercial when it came up, wanting to hear my girlfriend's reaction as compared to mine, to see if my interpretation was ridiculous.
We started by expressing frustration at the girl's tunnel-vision, looking down into the funnel of light emanating from her backlit screen amid the hullabaloo of a concert.
Then we thought about how just being at the concert, and being there with a friend, was insufficient. The photo had to be shared - in this case, her friends also craved immediacy in pulling their phones out immediately and expressing mostly disbelief and jealousy.
We finished wondering - building off this growing impulse we feel to be documentarians of all things we experience - if because of the ease of doing video, photo, FaceTime, check-ins or status updates, we cannot resist providing a constantly refreshed stream of self-identification to the world. And if we cannot resist having tight control and immediate broadcast ability.
We as humans have always felt anxious about how others perceive us. In the past, we turned mainly to physical trappings. We might alter the way we dress, the way we talk, the expressions we use, the places we go to hang out, our hairstyle, etc. Now, the plethora of social media accounts out there provide a huge opportunity for people to control the flow of information about themselves and supply people with a very particular image.
Instagram provides your life in photos. Twitter broadcasts the stream of consciousness. Snapchat and Vine send around the mundane or sudden ideas. Foursquare and other "check-in" apps let people know where you've been and where you are. Pinterest shares your creativity. Tumblr, Blogger, Wordpress and others give you an online forum. Facebook does most all these things and more.
Everyone can basically become their own PR-firm, crafting the spread of information and updates about their exploits day-by-day, hour-by-hour, minute-by-minute.
This can be a blessing and a curse. All technology can be used for good or bad. It's up to us to decide what to do with the power in the palms of our hands.
Sometimes, technology enables us to communicate with others more than we ever could before. It becomes a supplemental way for us to bridge the gap between encounters in the traditional ways (face-to-face conversation, nights out, etc). We get into trouble when the technology becomes the primary way we communicate with others (there are times when distance and/or time make it more necessary to resort to this) and takes a big bite out of traditional encounters. Worse, we really dehumanize ourselves when our mode of interaction and expression becomes solely electronic.
We become shadows of ourselves when we rely on a technological tapestry of our activity to define ourselves and show others who we are. Posts to social media can provide fodder to our friends that allow them to stay better plugged into the happenings of our lives. Checking in on friends online can be a great starting point to the next conversation you get to have with a person. The danger comes when our desire to keep tabs on a friend's life devolves into the only way we stay appraised of their lives.
This might be ok for old acquaintances from school or friends you might only care to see once in a blue moon. However, if our primary relationships - with parents, siblings, and best friends - evolve into this mode, the nourishment we need, the love that our being calls us to can give and receive back in kind, gets diluted. We go thirsty and find great difficulty finding legitimate sustenance through solely or heavily electronic relationship.
Let me offer myself as a case study, and cast the first stone at myself.
Pros? I turned off those little red numbers on my phone that tell me how many notifications I have in my Gmail or Facebook, and they also can no longer pop up in my lock screen. The camera in the iPhone is great, and it allows me snap pictures even if I forget or choose not to bring my point-and-shoot digital camera; plus, it syncs automatically to my laptop and is nifty for stuff at work and boosting my social media accounts there. Relatedly, I'm building a Twitter and Facebook following to try to get campus ministry and faith into the news-feed streams of teenagers and redeem some of the chatter that saturates those worlds. Finally, my dad loves picture messaging, especially about places we'd like to go as a family but can't necessarily all get to at the same time - sporting events, dinners out, visits to friends.
Cons? Texting and emailing is easier than ever, and my balance between just calling and/or visiting friends or co-workers in person can be tenuous. An in-person conversation can be so much more immediate and conclusive than the up-in-the-air-ness of email that I lean on too heavily. I, too, shoot photos and videos at sporting events and concerts. I try to limit myself to a select few pictures or a short video or two, but temptation can be strong. I think I did ok lucking into on-the-field seats at Notre Dame last weekend, and I only hope the memory is ingrained strongly from that one-of-a-kind experience. Most obsessively, I love the geo-tagging on Facebook. I love to post statuses or pictures on location and add locations to photos I post in batches. I meticulously went back in time and geo-tagged my photos on Facebook because I loved the map feature on my timeline and how it illustrated all the places I've been. It's definitely a guilty pleasure, and I know I've used it to brag.
What do you think? How do your social media and wireless capabilities affect your desire to create or control perception of you? Are you just telling it like it is and simply providing a link for people into your life? Are you very consciously and editorially choosing particular things to tailor an image? Are you complementing relationships through your usage or replacing interpersonal encounters with technological activity?
Even if you think your usage isn't troublesome, what about your intentions or motivations? Why are you checking in with a status and tagging the location? Why are you taking an Instagram of that sunset? Why are you checking your mail or refreshing your newsfeed?
At the end of the day, is the way that each of us use the technology at our fingertips oriented toward relationship or our own public image and perception? Is it emphasizing or belittling our humanity? Is it enhancing or diluting our human relationships?
Wednesday, September 4, 2013
Call to Worship: Lie in the Grass
From time to time, the delights of my job as campus minister give me the platform to speak to the school or groups of students. Here is the my Call to Worship to open our start of the year Mass, adapted from thoughts originally found in a previous blog on a homily I heard:
Good morning! Welcome to our Opening of the Year Mass, the first of many times when we will gather around this table to realize our unity in Christ. Right now we're on the brink of another school year. Looking ahead to nine months of classes, homework, tests, essays, and projects can seem daunting – and not just to you students, but also to the staff, administrators, and your teachers, too.
Let me tell you three simple facts.
1. Grass grows.
2. No one has ever seen grass grow.
3. If you laid down in a field for a long time, the growth would envelop you.
--Repeat--
Students, you might not want to go to class at all. You might not want to jump back into the deep end of schoolwork. You might already be getting tired of getting up early, working the whole day, and then going to after-school practices. You might feel like all these rules and prayers are cramping your style. You might feel like you don't have time to worry about God or what you believe in right now.
Teachers, you might already be dragging in lesson-planning or grading. You might be dreading that next test you have to write, then give, then grade, and then record to the gradebook. Staff and administration, you may already be drowning in a crowded inbox of emails or feeling overwhelmed by a filled-up voicemail box.
Let me tell you three simple facts.
1. Grass grows.
2. No one has ever seen grass grow.
3. If you laid down in a field for a long time, the growth would envelop you.
We may get tired, stressed, or frustrated as we dig into the new year. But we need to embrace patience. Patience that our routines will become comfortable and familiar. Patience that we can meet our deadlines and get our work done. Patience that we will learn each other's names, get to know each other, and make new friends. Patience that our GPA's can improve with hard work and focus. Patience that our God who made us and loves us is in fact with us always, already at work in our lives before we even wake up in the morning.
Our patience and dedication grows when we support each other. Bishop Noll is known as a family. The family that prays together, stays together. We come together to pray many times a day, and none is more important than our prayer around the Eucharist. Jesus comes to be with us and offers Himself to us. Let's come together to receive Him. And today when your Eucharistic Minister looks you in the eye and says, “The Body of Christ,” know that your Amen isn't just in response to a mysteriously bless-ed piece of bread. For we too are the Body of Christ, walking, breathing, living, and loving one another.
We can help each other's patience by our love and community. Let's start now, with this Mass, and commit to this family.
Grass grows. Great things have happened, are happening, and will continue to happen here. It's hard to see each bit of growth, but if you stick with it, the grass will envelop you.
Good morning! Welcome to our Opening of the Year Mass, the first of many times when we will gather around this table to realize our unity in Christ. Right now we're on the brink of another school year. Looking ahead to nine months of classes, homework, tests, essays, and projects can seem daunting – and not just to you students, but also to the staff, administrators, and your teachers, too.
Let me tell you three simple facts.
1. Grass grows.
2. No one has ever seen grass grow.
3. If you laid down in a field for a long time, the growth would envelop you.
--Repeat--
Students, you might not want to go to class at all. You might not want to jump back into the deep end of schoolwork. You might already be getting tired of getting up early, working the whole day, and then going to after-school practices. You might feel like all these rules and prayers are cramping your style. You might feel like you don't have time to worry about God or what you believe in right now.
Teachers, you might already be dragging in lesson-planning or grading. You might be dreading that next test you have to write, then give, then grade, and then record to the gradebook. Staff and administration, you may already be drowning in a crowded inbox of emails or feeling overwhelmed by a filled-up voicemail box.
Let me tell you three simple facts.
1. Grass grows.
2. No one has ever seen grass grow.
3. If you laid down in a field for a long time, the growth would envelop you.
We may get tired, stressed, or frustrated as we dig into the new year. But we need to embrace patience. Patience that our routines will become comfortable and familiar. Patience that we can meet our deadlines and get our work done. Patience that we will learn each other's names, get to know each other, and make new friends. Patience that our GPA's can improve with hard work and focus. Patience that our God who made us and loves us is in fact with us always, already at work in our lives before we even wake up in the morning.
Our patience and dedication grows when we support each other. Bishop Noll is known as a family. The family that prays together, stays together. We come together to pray many times a day, and none is more important than our prayer around the Eucharist. Jesus comes to be with us and offers Himself to us. Let's come together to receive Him. And today when your Eucharistic Minister looks you in the eye and says, “The Body of Christ,” know that your Amen isn't just in response to a mysteriously bless-ed piece of bread. For we too are the Body of Christ, walking, breathing, living, and loving one another.
We can help each other's patience by our love and community. Let's start now, with this Mass, and commit to this family.
Grass grows. Great things have happened, are happening, and will continue to happen here. It's hard to see each bit of growth, but if you stick with it, the grass will envelop you.
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