Young Adult Catholics

The other day my 50-something co-worker told me about this book she saw recently at our small-town bookstore: The Dumbest Generation: How the Digital Age Stupefies Young Americans and Jeopardizes Our Future (Or, Don’t Trust Anyone Under 30). She hasn’t read it, just the reviews of it.  She told me how sad a title like this makes her–it undermines any possibility for intergenerational communication or exchange, she bemoaned.  

Not having read the book myself yet, either, I joined in, wondering what the author hopes to accomplish with a title like that, other than further disengagement of demographics. The Dumbest generation?  Whoa.  And don’t trust anyone under 30?  I mean, I understand the game of having sexy titles to sell books, but this is going too far.

I’m sure this book makes valuable points about the ways technology is hurting our generation.  The publisher’s book flap promises that the author, Mark Bauerlein (prof. of English @ Emory), surveys a lot of research, including a 10-year study of teenagers and young adults.  And I’m willing to bet that I might even agree with some of the concerns Dr. Bauerlein has about our generation.  What I don’t think is okay is the title of the book.  It’s too offensive to be helpful.

My co-worker worries that the book is another treatise from the Baby Boomers against their offspring.  I worry that a title like that shuts off communication between generations–and in a society like ours, one that is unreasonably age-segregated, that seems dangerous to me.

I am pro-age-differentiated ministry in the Church; I think the young adult ministries in many of our parishes are needed and important.  But, of course, these cannot operate in a vaccuum.  We “young’ns” need to know how to learn from our Elders.  And our Elders need to know how to learn from us.  And unless we’re talking with one another–rather than calling each other mean names like “dumbest”–that’s not happening.

I am not a fan of division. I figure this is a good thing, since it seems to be in line with Jesus’ main teachings of peace and love. Often times unity seems to be the direction we’re are supposed to be moving towards while we live our gospel lives.

Unity is awesome. When it doesn’t exist, or when something is drastically divided, it causes me great pain. Like say, within the Catholic Church, or the greater Christian church. And then there’s the whole country, the good ol’ United States of America. How united are we, really? I don’t know, but I’ve seen a lot of passionate people scream at each other in the past few years, instead of forgetting their differences and embracing one another.

Since I like unity so much and I find division to be painful, I find it hard to make a stand sometimes. Also, it’s tough to associate with organizations that seem to perpetuate the division more than work towards unity. (Frankly, this is why I have mixed feelings about Call to Action.) I prefer to fence-sit on really controversial issues, and be present to both sides as a friend and a listener.

Earlier this summer, I was blessed to hear the prophet and Jesuit priest, John Dear, S.J. speak at a Peace Conference. I listened to him passionately and effectively rally folks around the beatitudes and how our guide is the non-violent Jesus. He told tales of how he had been arrested for being a peacemaker and making a stand, and how he’d been asked to step away from ministries and parishes because he was too controversial for taking Jesus literally.

At the end of the day, I stood up and thanked him, and agreed that peace and love are great, but what about division? Isn’t division a form of violence? How can we take a stand and not put up a wall?

His response was just as challenging as his entire message. He encouraged us to think of unity as the starting place and not the destination. The fruits of unity, he said, are peace and love and not the other way around. So, to be peacemakers and to be aware of the unity that we already live within, we must be mystics and contemplatives.

And we must sit with the great question of Jesus, “Do you think I have come to establish peace on the earth? No, I tell you, but rather division.” (Luke 12:51)

It’s not unity we’re going towards. It’s God. We’re already there.

This Sunday’s readings:
http://www.usccb.org/nab/072008.shtml

“Whoever has ears ought to hear!” Like last weekend, we hear these words of Jesus in this week’s continuation of the Gospel of Matthew and the telling of more parables. It’s a good point, since we, having heard these stories so many times, sometimes forget their original purpose.  The secret of Jesus’ parables (and those of others in the Ancient Near East, as well as since then) is the fact that they turn on ambiguity, paradox, and the unexpected. 

For example, no one expected the landowner in one of this weekend’s parables, who got weeds sown through his wheat by an enemy, to simply let them co-exist until harvest time.  The culture of the day was such that someone born into a family inherited the family’s friends as well as its hated enemies and was honor bound to respond in kind to such a terrible deed as trying to destroy someone’s crops (terrible because it threatened the livelihood and survival of the landowner’s family).   Most people at that time, hearing Jesus’ parable, would have expected the landowner to strike back at his enemy in revenge.  But Jesus instead presents a response of patience and forbearance toward the weeds and suggests a path, not of retaliation, but co-optation.  The enemy wanted to destroy the man’s crops.  Instead, by leaving the weeds in place until harvest, the wheat is stronger for having had to compete for the soil’s nutrients and the weeds can be used for fire fuel – an ingenious reversal that shows a different way of living that can make good come forth from all things, even things done with evil intent.

All of the other parables from the Gospel and the other readings this week can be seen as stories about how we can at times wield power poorly and how God wields power. The first reading helps us begin to understand: “For your might is the source of justice; your mastery over all things makes you lenient to all.” 

For God, justice and mercy are parts of a whole, and they always go together.  Thus, the reading from Wisdom, and even the parables from Matthew – are ultimately about power. But this is not power as it is understood in our world of “power brokers” and those who wield power over others, or who claim to wield it “for” others.  It is not a commodity to be bought and sold.  It is now, as it always has been, about relationships and how they are formed and sustained (or not).  In the case of God, the justice and mercy that are part of God’s “mastery” over all things is not about bending people to God’s will but of exercising justice and mercy in ways that make sense for putting relationships of all kinds back together again.

Unlike, God, however, we don’t always see justice and mercy together. We are broken people and we sometimes see in broken ways.  We prefer one to the other rather than imagining how both must go together. Think of how some politicians today speak of bringing some people “to justice!” Now, think about what that phrase means when seen in light of the passage from the Book of Wisdom above! Think of your own experiences.  I know that when someone wrongs me, I’m usually much more interested in justice than compassion!  I don’t have the disposition of mind and heart to consider that the righting of the wrong committed is not just about restitution but about relationship.  That is why I support and speak highly of the work of organizations like the Franciscan Pace e Bene program, which invites people to see nonviolence as a way to exercise power, just without coercion.  They help show the links between compassion and justice, between truth-telling and dialogue, and CTA has partnered with them at a number of its national conferences because of this important message.  It is an insight that our world sorely needs.

One doesn’t have to look far as the election season takes shape to see that justice or mercy do not always find their way to the top of our national agenda.  Is perhaps part of the problem that we ourselves have seen few models of this type of wisdom in our personal or communal lives?  Or if we have, do we dismiss the possibilities of trying to live in this way as impractical, expedient, unwise, too costly, unpatriotic?

The truth is, none of this is new to us.  The reading from Wisdom may also have been a challenge to the Israelites who first heard it, struggling in a time of national rebuilding after a long exile – wondering if God was either just or  merciful, given the hardships they and their loved ones had faced.  Yet, here is presented a vision of an expansion, inclusive, compassionate love, not just for Israel, but for all people – friends, strangers, undocumented immigrants, family enemies, national enemies … everyone.  The call of God in this reading to Israel is unmistakable: “And you taught your people, by these deeds, that those who are just must be kind!”

For those seeking renewal and transformation in church and society this is a lesson that must be learned over and over again as we struggle in the face of circumstances and situations that seem to tell us that these virtues are opposed.  Or we face those who, embittered by anger and experiences of pain and suffering, cannot understand the value in being just and compassionate towards others, even when it is not reciprocated. 

There are other parables in this weekend’s Gospel as well, and they take us deeper into an understanding of personal and collective power and its use – if we have “ears to hear.”

The parable of the mustard seed that grows to become the most persistent of plants and the woman baker who uses just a little yeast to leaven the whole dough are, we are told by Jesus, mirrors of God’s Reign.  Could the message be any simpler? Small things matter! Today, physicists and astronomers speak of chaos theory (or the ”butterfly effect”) and ruminate on how small, almost insignificant, natural forces can have profound long term large – even planetary or galactic – results.  Being attentive to seemingly small things – the daily building of relationships; faithfulness in our work projects; attention to the needs of the poor through direct service; work done behind the scenes on a collaborative project; struggling to stay in a church community that isn’t what I would hope it to be but working day by day through deed and word to give new voice and shape to it  – all of these are the subjects of contemporary “parables” that can invite us into a deeper faith in God and a deeper commitment to justice, compassion, and the right use of the truly remarkable power each of us has. They can be the small pieces of our lives that have lasting effects well beyond what we can dream or imagine. Our call this week seems to be to remain faithful to the small and ordinary stuff of life and attentive enough to find God at work in it, or at least trusting in God’s presence within it, even if it is not apparant.

Failing that, we allow distractions to determine our use of time all too easily.  Failing that, we allow the reactions and responses of others to control our own.  Failing that, our own “parables” don’t have a faith-restoring twist; they become deadening routines of the same.  Failing that, we allow others to strip us of our God-given power to be justice-seekers and mercy-givers … and so dis-empower ourselves and those we are called to serve. 

This disempowerment is no abstract idea.  It is real for far to many in our world who do not see themselves as people of power – God-given power – for true and lasting transformation of our world. Indeed, sometimes our own prayers are simply that inward sigh of the Spirit St. Paul talks about.  But the presence of that same Spirit is a reminder that, even in our weakness, we can find power, that is, we can find ways of relating to one another that are integral, holy, and whole.  Let us pray for each other this week that we all come to a deeper awareness of this so that we too, with Jesus, can “proclaim what has been hidden from the foundation of the world.”

There one little fact that I left out of my bio in my first post: I am an unrepentant baseball junkie.  I love the game.  From about the time I could walk, my grandfather (whose professional aspirations were sadly cut short by a few years of serving as a cook in the Army during WWII…You definitely need your knees if you’re a catcher!) had me in a glove and playing ball.  We have a great picture from when my brother was maybe two years old of him walking down the street near my grandparents old place in in Maine, hand in hand with my grandfather, each of them with a glove on their hands (luckily, my brother is the only southpaw in the family, so it makes for a great picture).

I grew up going to games (I think my love of the Minnesota Twins comes from the fact that their AA farm team played about 20 minutes away from where I grew up) and there’s nothing like it.  After we moved to MN, we started going to professional games, usually when the Yankees were in town.

Yes, I have now outed myself.  I am a Yankee fan.  I come by it naturally, since my parents grew up on Long Island and my grandfather (not the ball player) grew up in Jersey.  My brother was Babe Ruth one year for Halloween.  I was a Yankee fan long before they started winning in the mid-1990’s (1996, if we’re being precise…after all, baseball is a sport of precision and numbers).  As an adult, I’m a Twins fan first and foremost (someday, I’ll tell you about meeting a rather famous member of the MN Twins and teasing him), but unless the Yankees are playing the Twins, I am a Yankees fan.

And I live in Boston.  I have to admit, I have a slight inherent dislike (not quite hate, but…) of Boston sports teams in general and the Red Sox in particular.  Needless to say, living in Boston last October was, well, miserable.  Boston fans are enthusiastic and passionate about two things: their love of the Red Sox and their hatred of the Yankees.  Last week, I chaperoned a tour of Fenway.  Our guide trained a group of European teenagers to boo every time he mentioned the Yankees (which was often and really just for effect, I think).  You may be wondering what this has to do with the Church, but I promise, it has a point, which I’ll get to in a second.

For those who did not see the opening ceremonies for the All-Star Game this evening, before the starting line ups for both teams were announced, the largest collection of Hall of Fame players ever assembled on a field took their places at their old positions.  The Hall of Famers were introduced and then the starting player from each league was announced.  I have to admit, I was a little choked up after watching the red carpet parade (I mean, Whitey Ford and Yogi Berra in the same vehicle?  Giving a tag-team interview?  And Hank Aaron!  And Reggie Jackson!!  And Willie Mays!!!), but I started openly crying as they introduced all of the Hall of Fame players.  A few I grew up watching (Paul Molitor, Cal Ripken, Jr), but most are names I know only from stories from my dad and my grandfather and from being a bit of a baseball buff.  And getting to see not only the crowd’s reaction to the game, but seeing the current All Stars acting like little school kids in the presence of greats…it was beautiful.  In the last All Star Game to be played in Yankee Stadium in the last season in The House That Ruth Built, the highlight of my week may have been watching Yogi Berra, Whitey Ford, Goose Gossage, and Reggie Jackson throw out the first pitch.

But there was one thing that really bothered me: every time one of the players from the Red Sox was introduced, the crowd booed.  Loudly.  The biggest boo of all was saved for Terry Francona, the manager of the Sox and the AL manager tonight.  I understand the sentiment, I really do, because I hate the Red Sox.  But the booing seemed so out of place in a ceremony marked by so much history and grace.  On this historic night, on tonight of all nights, rivalries should not exist (well, except maybe a wee bit between leagues, as home field advantage for the World Series is at stake).  Under normal circumstances, I’d be tempted to boo Manny Ramirez and Kevin Youkilis and the others, too.  But not tonight.  Because tonight, we’re all on the same team (unless you rooting for the NL, in which case, well, you get the analogy).

Sometimes, in the Church, we get so caught up in cheering for our own cause or our own team, as it were, that we forget that we’re really all in it together.  And every once in a while, we need to remember that.  That doesn’t mean that I have to like the Red Sox (or agree with the opinions of others), but being a poor sport about it, slamming the other side, doesn’t really make things better.  And so, in the spirit of the All Star Game, I’m going to try and keep my less-than-charitable comments about the Red Sox* (and those I may not agree with in the Church) to myself.  We all need to find a way to get along with each other and be respectful of each other within the Church, just like Yankee and Red Sox fans occasionally need to set aside the rivalry and work together to ensure that the Yankees have home field advantage for the World Series.

*I make no promises about the playoffs (but only in regards to the Red Sox).  I’m just saying.  :-)

A priest once made the suggestion in his Ash Wednesday homily: as a preparation for Lent, he suggested, “try praying that God open your heart and your mind especially to those Truths that you really don’t want to hear.”

It was only recently that I had found my way back to active Catholicism, and I was eager to do it right this time. It was a time of turmoil — my marriage was falling apart, and what I’d hoped would be a good and promising career in broadcasting was becoming a dry, dead-end chore with little to no opportunity for advancement. I needed my faith, I needed the absolutes and the structure of Catholicism to keep me grounded.

So I prayed, exactly as the priest suggested. Then I sat back and waited for the overwhelming flood of painful revelation that would have me clutching at my head, screaming in agony (yes, I know I watch too much science fiction). But it never came — not like that, anyway. Not in any way I could have expected.

For regular Sunday mass I had ended up at the church nearest my apartment, and found it a wonderful fit. The parishioners welcomed me immediately and brought me into the social justice committee. My lifelong social liberalism had been ingrained within my Catholic upbringing, so I was perfectly at home here. For the first time since my return to the faith, I felt like a useful member of the Mystical Body of Christ, and not just the appendix hanging uselessly from the Mystical Lower Intestine. There was only one thing that irked me — at this parish, everyone remained standing during the Consecration.

Nobody really seemed to mind that I was the only one kneeling — nobody, that is, but myself. It troubled me that proper respect was not being paid to Christ in our midst. Now that I had found a true spiritual home — a community that actively honored and served Christ in the poor of the community and the world — why couldn’t they honor Him in this way as well? Why couldn’t they all make this one little change for me?

I took to rehearsing in my mind how the discussion would go, when at last the matter might be brought up. I would begin by explaining how important this small gesture of reverence is to sacred worship. But, the anonymous responder would reply, there are other masses you could go to. Every other mass in town includes that gesture. Yes, I say, but this is where I feel God most present; this is where I see God’s people coming together in a true spirit of community. The still, small voice then asks, where do you suppose that spirit of community comes from? And that I could not answer.

Some time later, the pastor offers a homily about the communal nature of the liturgy. The reason we gather is to worship, to unite ourselves as one. This is what makes a disparate gathering into a cohesive Church, into that living Body of Christ. We honor Christ’s presence in the Sacrament by honoring Christ’s presence within the assembly. And finally, I got the message.

It wasn’t an earth-shattering revelation, but it was the beginning of a deeper spiritual relationship. At some point the rules, regulations, dogma, and traditions designed to help us in the journey can start to get in the way. God wants a relationship with us — a real relationship, not dictated by third parties but conducted one-on-one. Talk, listen, grow, adjust, always look to the needs and desires of the other … these are the marks of a good relationship. It’s what God wants from us, and it’s the least we can offer.

On June 23, The Pew Forum on Religious and Public Life released its second set of findings of its 25 year U.S. Religious landscape survey. When the first part of this report was released in February, it received a substantial amount of press coverage in the media, and the June report created the same result with National Catholic Reporter offering a good summary on Catholic findings.

When the first half of the report was released in February, it forced me to reevaluate my work as a parish minister and give great consideration to the future of the Catholic Church among the laity. Most amazing and concerning is the huge drop off in numbers of American Catholics. The actual number of Catholics in the U.S. has remained the same for the past 25 years because of the many, primarily Latin American, immigrants to the U.S. who have retained their Catholic identity in their adopted homeland. Among U.S. born Catholics, however, the Church is witnessing drop out rates comparable to the Reformation. Ten percent of the U.S. Population (1 in every 10 Americans), was raised Catholic but no longer practice or considers themselves Catholic. These are not the many people who only show up to church for big occasions, for they are still counted as practicing Catholics, but 10% of the entire U.S. population has chosen to leave the Church of their family and childhood. Only 2-3% of the 10% have left to join other religions (primarily Evangelical/Fundamentalist churches), and the other 7-8% are unaffiliated Christians, agnostics or atheists. Among all religions in the U.S., the Catholic Church demonstrated the greatest loss by a very wide margin.

The June report also confirmed that 68% of Catholic and mainline Protestant Americans say that their churches should adjust traditional practices in light of new circumstances or adopted norms. Of great interest to me as a professional catechetical leader, though not necessarily surprising given my experiences in parish ministry, is that the knowledge and acceptance of Catholic teachings, even as basic of beliefs as those of the Eucharist or a non-literalist reading of the Bible is barely different from the overall American population. This means that past religious education/faith formation either did a poor job and/or Catholics prefer to look to pop culture for their understanding of faith and religious practices. In fact, 52% say that they look most to practical experience and common sense rather than Church teachings and beliefs for their life’s decisions.

What amazes me even more than these numbers is the utter lack of concern and active response from the Catholic hierarchy. The U.S. Conference of Catholic Bishops released a statement following the June 23 findings that could not have expressed more disinterest. It ends by saying that we must keep doing what we’ve been doing: “In the face of any measure, the steady and ongoing response of the Church is an ever renewed commitment to robust catechetical efforts.” Are they serious? I’m dumbfounded! Dioceses across the country have either filed or are close to filing bankruptcy, diocesan offices, parishes, and Catholic schools are barely staying open for lack of funds and support (the Archdiocese of Milwaukee, for example, now has ONE person in charge of catechesis—both child and youth for the entire diocese where 20 years ago there were 15 people), and droves of Catholics are leaving the church for countless reasons. Still the bishops chose to remain blind and not do anything to help Christ’s church remain vibrant and present on earth as Christ’s greatest Sacrament.

For the past 25 years, the buzz word in the Catholic Church has been “evangelization,” yet instead of growing and bringing new members into our communities, those initiated in infancy refuse to stay. From my wide eyed and optimistic perspective, using these research findings to reevaluate parish and diocesan structure, activities, ministries, outreach, and faith formation could bring about a wonderful and vibrant renewal in the Church, one that could meet our society’s growing thirst for community and a sense of belonging, yet our leaders seem committed to doing what their brothers in Europe have done…let our church buildings become museums and watch our faith community move towards extinction.

This Sunday’s readings:
http://www.usccb.org/nab/071308.shtml
This weekend’s readings can serve as a great mid-summer reminder about the abundant life in the natural world, as well as the pain and suffering of the environment and the planet that have emerged over the last several hundred years. The agrarian images in these readings may not resonate as loudly as they did in an era when farming and relationship to nature was part and parcel of most people’s experiences, but they can still speak to us if we take the time to lift up our heads from our laptops, our Blackberries (and our blogging!) to get tuned back in to nature. (Incidentally, Tuesday of next week is the memorial of St. Bonaventure, a Franciscan saint and doctor of the church, who, in imitation of St. Francis of Assisi, spoke of creation as the original “book of God’s revelation” – a turn of phrase he borrowed from St. Augustine … all to show the influence God’s creation has had throughout our Catholic tradition, even if at times it has not been revered well by many in the church).

The lessons of all this nature imagery aren’t limited to knowing when the rainy season occurs – like in the reading from Isaiah – or the best time or soil to plant seed in – like the Gospel of Matthew’s account of the sowing of the seed. These images, like Bonaventure’s insights, invite us to see how our own growth can mirror that of the natural world, even at times when we feel there is no growth at all.

These images call us back to the basics. They also remind us that the growth in nature, like the growth of our faith and trust in God, is partly dependent on us, but a lot of other things happen that are out of our control and in God’s hands.

Isaiah reminds us that just as the rain is a powerful force that cannot be stopped, so is God’s word. It is a fertilizer for the spirit. It will always accomplish what God intends, which is the full flourishing of the human person, human society, and indeed the whole created order. At first, this might seem to contradict the Gospel account where Jesus talks about all the bad soil where the seed cannot take root and the good soil where it finally does. Yet note that the good soil’s production more than makes up for the seed lost on the path, in the rocky ground, or the thorns. A hundred, sixty, or thirty fold return on any planting would be the dream of any farmer! The point is that God’s word will achieve its purpose – the redemption of relationships between God and us, among ourselves, and between ourselves and creation. The question Jesus seems to confront us with in the parable is: Will we take up the challenge to really allow that word into our hearts and lives to transform us? “Whoever has ears ought to hear!”

Another way of reflecting on the parable of the sower is the very important traditional way of doing so – looking within to see what type of “soil” God’s word is receiving in my life today. Almost certainly, like the land around us, we may be soils of different types of different days or seasons. Some days our faith is as flat as the path; other times it is crowded out by distractions and disinterest; sometimes the weight of responsibilities or difficulties in our lives scorch us. So it is important to be attentive enough to know how we are doing personally.

However, besides that, it is also good to discern beyond ourselves — to seek out and find those places which make our “soil” more receptive to God’s word and God’s activity in our lives. What are the things we do to nourish our spirits in days of frenetic activity? How do we reconnect? Note that Jesus hardly ever tells parables to individuals. He always addresses his stories to communities, to large groups, or to his disciples. I take this as a reminder that it is a very difficult, if not impossible, task to maintain an openness to God’s activity on our own, by ourselves.

We are relational beings and Christians specifically get together in groups each Sunday for the purpose of hearing that word TOGETHER, and many partake of communion or Eucharist as a reminder and living memory of the fact that we work out what God’s word means for each of us and all of us in community. God’s word, like the rain, doesn’t fall on individuals or small groups only. It touches many hearts and those many hearts together give us the ability to hear God’s voice speaking to us as persons, but also to us as a people – a People of God, formed by that word. Just as the seed has to die to become something new and much larger, so are we invited to feel the seed of God’s word break into our lives and yield a bountiful and rich harvest as it calls us to deeper conversion and wholeness. And, like the rest of creation, that may at times involve the pain of inward groaning and the REAL pain of giving birth that Paul talks about in the letter to the Romans.

A good reflection, then, may be on how God is at work in my life preparing me for the “next planting” that can bear fruit for me, but for others as well. How is the “soil” of my parish church or faith community? Is my larger neighborhood or community a place that takes the time to be open to change, newness, growth? Are there enough diverse nutrients to nurture the precious seed of God’s deep desires for us? If we find, in ourselves or our communities, a type of soil that is hindering growth, what can I / we do about it in small or large ways? Can we name the flatness, rocks, or thorns that hinder our growth into a redeemed and renewed people? Are there signs of labor pains birthing something new?

Jesus images God as a for us a Farmer who, as was customary, threw the seed with reckless abandon, knowing some would be lost in places where there was not an openness to receive it, but others would yield richly. Let us pray this weekend that we can all find a way to put our energies toward that which will focus on the nurturing of new possibilities, even as we are often acutely aware of the many things in our church and world that choke off the word. Let us pray to for those places in our world where we are aware of the groaning of creation, or the places where the groaning has become an alarm as our planet suffers the ravages of our failures to live in balance with it. As we experience the deep pains of our lives, the lives of those who struggle on the margins of our society, and the pains of our planet, let us live in the hope that the “firstfruits of the Spirit” that we have received can become seeds in our hearts to truly work to “renew the face of the earth.”

*****

I offer this week a metric paraphrase of the beautiful harvest psalm that is our responsorial psalm this week. It is titled simply, “You,” and was composed by Rory Cooney, reflecting a beautiful awareness of creation as God’s original book of revelation.

The sweetest Mary moment for me came when I was reading the translation of the Qur’an. Not knowing much, I flipped to the chapter on Mary (Maryam). And I found the moment I had been looking for.

So she conceived [Jesus] and went with him to a remote place. And the pains of childbirth drove her to the trunk of a palm-tree: she cried in her anguish: “Ah! Would that I had died before this! Would that I had been a thing forgotten and out of sight!”

But a voice cried to her from beneath the palm-tree: “Do not grieve! For your Lord has provided a rivulet beneath you; it will let fall fresh ripe dates upon you. So eat and drink and cool your eye. And if you see any man, say, ‘I have vowed a fast to God Most Gracious and this day I will not enter into any talk with any human being.’” (Qur’an Maryam: 22-26)

I realized that Marian connection – that innate bond with a strong woman – was something that made me Catholic. What I did not know was the level of Marian devotion in Islam. Reading this passage sparked a desire to explore Islam further, but it also made me realize that I was culturally and spiritually Catholic. This passage in the Qur’an could help me find the missing Mary, the one I thought did not exist in my own religion. Mary cried out and found refuge, so I searched. But Mary said to the angel, “How can this be, since I have no relations with a man?” (Luke 1: 34) So it will be: As your Lord says, ‘That is easy for Me: and We wish to appoint him as a sign to people and mercy from Us: it is a matter so decreed. (Qur’an Maryam: 21) And Elizabeth, filled with the holy spirit, cried out in a loud voice and said, “Most blessed are you among women, and blessed is the fruit of your womb…For the moment the sound of your greeting reached my ears, the infant in my womb leapt for joy.” (Luke: 41-42, 44)

And I remembered this time in third grade when we did the annunciation scene for the school play. I was a narrator and our job was to sing a song that left me going on for days on end, “My soul proclaims the greatness of the Lord.” When I re-read the Magnificat in the Bible with the Qur’anic Mary in mind, I was blown away –

For he has looked upon the handmaid’s lowliness

Behold, from now on, all ages will call me blessed

The Mighty One has done great things for me …

He has shown might with his arm,

Dispersed the arrogant of mind and heart.

He has thrown down the rulers from their thrones,

But lifted up the lonely.

The hungry he has filled with good things,

The rich he has sent away empty.

It must have been the same Mary. As the Marys began to blend (same woman, with different ideas about who her son was), I saw the Mary from the Qur’an in the Mary who was forced to see her son die. In the Mary who “sung the Magnificat,” with righteous anger, knowing that her son – no matter how divine, how human – is already piercing her heart. Mary knows that it is painful to love. No matter what you believe about Jesus’ divinity or the crucifixion, Mary’s heart, anger, and spirit might make you get up and “dance [you] to the end of love” (Leonard Cohen).

A few weeks ago, my partner and I went to see the Tony-Award winning musical, Spring Awakening, on Broadway. Based on the controversial, German play written in 1891 by Frank Wedekind, the musical is about teenagers discovering their sexuality. Through its exhilarating alt-rock score, Spring Awakening deals with the topics of individuality, education, masturbation, homosexuality, abortion, rape, sexual abuse, and suicide. Click here for a full synopsis without too many spoilers.

I left the musical physically and emotionally shaken with the resonance I felt. Discovering my sexuality in utter ignorance was all too familiar. Not that my mom did not give me the books – I shudder as I remember the day she handed me Where Did I Come From? . However, even with the books, I still felt as if sex was something bad and puberty was a dirty word and homosexuality was a sin akin to murder.

Now, I don’t want to put the blame 100% on Catholicism– maybe just 98%. Sexuality education in the Catholic tradition focuses solely on abstinence, neglecting to teach young adults how to make informed and responsible decisions about their bodies. Catholic teaching condemns contraception, denounces sexual pleasure, and rules out masturbation and homosexuality as “intrinsically disordered” – even though decades of research prove the opposite. Spring Awakening eloquently depicts how this miseducation adversely affects young adults.

I find that even among progressive Catholics, we still have trouble talking about our sexuality. I attribute this mostly to years of this miseducation on sexuality which Catholicism provides us - it is hard to erase those misnomers from our heads! Not that all Catholic teaching on sexuality is awful. If you can get past the antiquated, hetero-normative language of the teachings, there is some good stuff on what it means to be in relationship.

Comprehensive sexuality education, on the other hand, gives young people the tools they need to make responsible, value-based decisions. It provides young adults with accurate information about sexuality and helps them to develop their values and beliefs about sexuality. Had the characters in Spring Awakening had comp. sex ed. at school or church, the plot would certainly have ended differently.

To wrap this all up: Spring Awakening was fantastic – the best and most honest musical I have seen in years! It is going on tour starting in August. I encourage everyone to go and see it! Here is a music video of one the hit songs in the production, The Bitch of Living. Enjoy!

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This weekend I went to a wedding in eastern Iowa, and I was able to see all the flooding that occurred there recently.  I am from southwest Iowa, and though we received a large amount of rain during that period we were thankfully spared from any bad flooding.  In eastern Iowa, however, many houses are condemned and much of the farmland exhibited sickly looking crops, bare ground, or still has standing water.

Unfortunately, the flooding probably did not have to be as bad as it was.  But as a result of the last few decades of intensive farming, a bad flood was made worse.  All around I saw a lack of grass waterways where they were badly needed, land that was not planted on the contour, and land that should not have been planted at all. 

On the family farm we have employed a number of sustainable farming techniques that have maintained and improved our soil quality over the years.  Our soil dries up faster on top yet still has good water holding capacity further down which protects the crop during dry spells.  It may sound like I am bragging, but I am just trying to explain what agricultural soil should look like.

The issue is definitely a moral one.  A farmer’s decisions affect thousands of people, and therefore it is absolutely necessary that these people are affected positively.  Pouring nitrates into the drinking water, furthering the dead zone in the Gulf of Mexico, and worsening an already bad flood are not positive effects.

Anyways, continue to keep all the flood victims in your prayers, because they are still far from recovering from the devastating effects of this disaster.