Not the Right Attitude

As I left the house last Saturday morning to help Renata, my catechism co-teacher, lead the planned retreat for our first-year confirmation teens at the little house on the edge of town that the church owns, I knew I was not in the right frame of mind. There was neither a sense of calm nor purpose. The source of the disturbance in my peace was Bart.
Bart has come very irregularly to our Thursday evening classes, but his mother is planning to have him "make up" the lessons in writing so that he can be confirmed with his peers next year. The issue is not whether this is an acceptable approach to dealing with missed classes. It actually may be a very acceptable approach because Bart will have to read every word in the lessons and in the accompanying scriptures and respond in writing to the questions that we discuss in class. In class, Bart participates actively, but in a challenging manner. He makes no effort to hide the fact that he does not believe a word that we say. He makes loud declarations from time to time, out of the blue in some cases, that "there is no God." There is hostility in his words, a hostility that disconcerts our largely Hispanic group of teens who share a deep faith with their parents, one that I have found to be typical of rural California Hispanic towns. Bart is one of the English-speaking kids, referred to here as Anglos, with no disrespect intended, and, indeed, Caucasians and Latins blend quite naturally in our community, resulting a considerable number of mixed marriages. Three of my four children have united White and Hispanic (two cases) and White and Black (one case). No, the issue is not an ethnic one; it is a spiritual and religious one.

When I got into the car, I stopped long enough to pray for God to intercede in my mood and for me to find and use the right words with the kids, not only with Bart but especially with him. The group has not bonded as well as groups in the past even though most attend the same high school or maybe because they attend the same high school. They are generally quiet and would prefer lectures to thinking activities. They, in fact, seem to lack either critical or creative thinking skills, and part of our hope for the retreat was not only to bond them spiritually but also to make a dent in the wall blocking them from independent thought.
My hope for post-prayer instant calm was unrealized, and internal irritation caused me to fidget during the short, one-minute drive to the edge of town. (From one side of town to another is at most a two-minute drive.) That one-minute, though, had an impact. I arrived peaceful and calm.

Bart participated, surprisingly, with enthusiasm in the various kinesthetic activities we had the teens do. Somehow, for once, communication with him flowed easily, and he did not push back whenever talk turned to spiritual matters. Of all the teens, he most readily applied spiritual meaning to the physical activities (building a house out of marshmallows and spaghetti, blind walk, etc.), something that was very difficult for most of the kids who wanted to wait for their teachers to tell them the meaning (which I refused to do – I want them to learn how to think). At the end of the day, we could honestly say, “a good time was had by all,” including Bart.

Then, it was time to attend Mass. We cleaned up, packed up, and walked the few minutes it takes to get from the edge of town, through the field, past the parish office and education center, into the mission garden to the church doors. Bart sat in the few in front of me and a little to the left. I had a good view of him. While he behaved himself properly and quietly took communion, Bart, clearly emotionally disengaged from his automatic responses to the liturgy, exuded a level of unhappiness that was difficult to miss.

Renata has talked extensively to Bart’s parents. They know that he described himself as an atheist and publicly states that he has no faith. Nonetheless, his parents want him confirmed, whether he wants to be confirmed or not. They want him to “have options within the church” in the future.

All of this sits uneasily with me. I disagree with Renata. I know the feeling of being forced to attend church when one has no religious beliefs. At least, Bart’s parents do not whip him with raspberry switches as my parents did to me until the day I stood up in church, having been asked to speak at Youth Sunday, and declared that parents in the congregation should consider raising their children in an honest atheist environment rather than in a dishonest Christian home where all kinds of improper things went on, such as Deacon X sleeping with the wife of Mr. Y and the like and then pretending it was all okay because they came to church. I managed in a very short few minutes to reveal most of the town’s secrets; whether they were really secrets or simply part of a conspiracy of silence, I would not have known and still do not know. The result, though, came swiftly. My family was expelled from the church, and I was delighted. No more being forced to spend Sundays there, no more switchings in order to make that happen.

Oh, I understand Bart very well. Except for gender, he might be me in a younger generation. That is why when he has his atheistic and anti-theistic outbursts and the other teens tell him, “You can’t say that here,” I respond, “this is precisely the place he should say it because here is the best place to talk about it.” I have shared my conversion story with the teens, and I can tell that it flustered Bart but has not changed his mind, let alone his heart. That is why I also know that neither Renata nor I are going to “convince” him that God exists and loves him just as he is. No, God will be the one to change him, in time, at the right time, in the right way, as God always does.

I had been contemplating talking to Fr. Ed about the situation, but he has been in Ireland due to his mother’s recent death there. Unexpectedly, I ran into Sr. Maria after Mass, and, grateful for her willing ear, shared my concerns about Bart with her, about the “rightness” of someone being forced into confirmation by parents. She agreed with me. If Bart is truly an atheist (or agnostic) next year at this time, he should not be confirmed. She felt certain that Fr. Ed would not confirm him if he knew the situation but suggested that we wait until he was nearing the end of the second-year confirmation class to see if he has a change of heart.

I don't believe removing Bart from the catechism classes is the right approach even though he acts out and tries to force his atheistic viewpoint on the other teens. I assume he does the same in school if the topic comes up. At least, in catechism class, I can be a countervailing force since I have gone through what he is going through. At least, in catechism class, Bart, and any others who wish, can put forth their doubts so that we can respond to them and discuss them and so that other teens in the class can share their faith. It is better to share them and in the ensuing discussion have those doubts dissipate than to store them permanently without any response except one’s own thinking, and class may be the only place that this happens for some of the teens. And at least, in catechism class, Bart experiences prayer at the beginning and end (and sometimes during) of each session, reading & discussion of scripture, and a spiritual way of interpreting his daily experiences. That he brings up daily experiences for interpretation, albeit always in a sardonic manner, tells me that the Holy Spirit has gripped him though he may not know it – yet.

I would love to know how readers would handle this.

(Picture is of the kids as they head to church after the retreat; one can see the mountains that surround San Ignatio on all sides.)

Amazing Power of Prayer

Marvels of marvels and miracles of miracles, something happened this morning that I never thought I would see. Never. Because I did not have as much faith as I should have had.

Donnie and I will celebrate our 40th anniversary on March 20. Complications, however, have arisen in celebrating it. First, March 20 is the only time that the university students in Lithuania can do the review session for the course I taught there the last two weeks, and they need one. Moreover, March 21 is the only day that they can take their final. Given the 10-hour difference between our countries and the plan to have the students do the final review over Skype and the final (monitored by the department chair) in the computer lab, emailing me immediately their answers, my presence is required in both instances in the late evening hours, ending at midnight. So, while I can be free during the day, I need to be at home, with the proper computer equipment at night. Any plans that Donnie and I would have liked to have had to take a trip (we have dreamed of a special trip for our 40th anniversary for some time, entertaining a number of different exotic locations, among which it had been difficult to choose) cannot be accomplished on the actual date. Second, with Shane unemployed, I would prefer to use trip money to pay the next unseen number of months of his COBRA fees, which at $800 a month are well beyond his ability to pay on unemployment compensation, and provide smaller amounts to help with the kids and food. (His umemployment amount covers his rent only.)

So, seeing that our local St. Francis Retreat Center, which is no more than five minutes up the hill from our house, is offering a two-day retreat on Franciscan spirituality March 20-21, I decided to sign up for it. Donnie has agreed to come! We will try to sneak away on the evening of March 20, during the dinner hour, for a private anniversary dinner at our favorite local restaurant.

The process leading to this decision began when Donnie returned from Jordan, an atheist as I had always been, to find that I had had a remarkable conversion experience and was now pretty dedicated to following in the path of Christ and obeying God at all costs. It was not the kind of thing one emails to one's spouse of 30+ years or relates on a phone. So, I had waited until he had completed his contract there, which ended eight months after mine, and then, when he arrived back in California, I shared with him all that had happened.

To say that he was in shock would be an understatement. For nearly a week, he could not even speak to me. He would look at me and mutter, "I cannot get my head around it."

Doah, on the other hand, was delighted. He had been a believer perhaps before he was even born. Who knows, given his significant retardation, what and how his beliefs were formed, but he always exhibited them. However, from the time that he could speak, he evinced not only strong belief but strong connection with God, saying things like "God told me" X or Y. One weekend soon after Donnie came home, Doah was in the car with us, driving to a nearby city for grocery shopping, and spontaneously said a prayer that momentarily got Donnie's attention, "Dear God, Thank you for bringing Mom to You, but You forgot about Dad."

Unfortunately, the effect was minimal and shorter than temporary. I wondered what would reach Donnie, and I knew that he was not the type to be pushed. Moreover, he was still in shock. I had been such an outspoken atheist.

A few months later, a friend visited from Nebraska. We spent every evening walking around Old Mission grounds, a little of it together but most of it separately praying and communing with God. It was during that time that I started begging God to help with Donnie and was told that eventually he would come to believe but that first I must frequently pray with him.

Pray with an atheist? I knew how that would have gone over with me, and I had a pretty good idea how that would go over with Donnie. Nonetheless, convinced that this was the path that God had chosen to bring Donnie to Him, at our very next breakfast together, I insisted that we say grace together. We have continued that pattern for two years now. I have also upon occasion, as I sensed his atheism turning into agnosticism, asked him to say grace (just in case), and he has acquiesced.

Then, last spring my torn rotator cuff was healed instantly during Mass. Doah was there and sensed the same presence on the kneeler with us that I felt touch my arm. When I returned and showed Donnie the totally free movement I had in my arm that had been impossible to move than 30 degrees before I went to Mass, he was again shocked. With the healing confirmed five days later by MRI, his agnosticism began to turn toward a "just in case, perhaps-perhaps not" kind of potentially emerging belief.

Still, he has been unwilling to step closer. I go to Mass alone or with Doah, Noelle, or Lemony (my daughter-in-law who was gladly my sponsor), when they are visiting, or even sometimes with a friend.

Nonetheless, Donnie has spent time with Fr. Ed and Fr. Barry, when they have come for a family or other event. They don't push him, either, and I try to follow their model of just being an example. I have also tried to be steadfast in praying for him and, as God urged, with him, relying on God to take care of the rest.

And so today, I am the one in shock, pleasant shock. (The shock pricks me, though, in thinking that had I had greater faith, there would be NO shock. Nonetheless, I am happy, indeed. Yes! A spiritual weekend together! What better anniversary gift could there be?A

Four Days

Last weekend, as I have mentioned in a few blog posts in passing, I was blessed to be able to attend a four-day retreat at St. Francis Retreat Center (SFRC) in San Juan Bautista, California. I spend a lot of time at SFRC since it is not far from where I live. I attend First Fridays there, participate in center-led retreats, and contribute to the center on a regular basis. (The center burned down in 2006, and for the next three years, every penny that was collected mattered. The beautiful new center opened in 2009. Until then retreats were held in mobile buildings. As with so many other things in life, good came from bad. Were it not for the fire, in which no one got hurt, the friars and community would not likely have built a new center for quite some time, if at all. In that rebuilding I have also been able to participate, relying on God to help me keep a rather surprising financial contribution: for details see The Journey Is More Important Than the Destination.)

This particular retreat was different. It was conducted by the priest who leads our contemplative prayer group. It was the first time I had ever spent so much time in silence. After all, I am an extrovert. Silence does not come naturally. I even talk to birds and squirrels!

The silence, however, was exactly what I needed to finish off a week that had gone from frenetic to tranquil, thanks to God answering my wail while in Washington to return home and be able to spend the entire retreat in retreat activities. Until the day before the retreat I had been unable to arrange for a timely arrival for Thursday evening (my plane was supposed to arrive from Washington, DC late in the afternoon) and unable to get the full day off on Friday (I had a mandatory meeting Friday afternoon). When I begged God, however, to bring me back home and back to Him, suddenly flights were cancelled, requirements were changed, and even the mandatory meeting was postponed. Amazingly, I had the entire retreat time off, all four days.

I consider these four days God's gift to me. God certainly spoils me! (But I hope He does not stop because I like it!)