I love Mass regardless of the season or location. But there is a special beauty found in going to Mass when it is cold outside and the church embraces you like you were in your mother's womb. The outside world might be cold and hostile, but Mother Church will always take you in, nourish you, and send you back out to fight the good fight.
Saturday, March 1, 2014
The Warmth of Church in Winter
The wind is chilling as it caresses my cheek with a frigid wisp of air. Walk quickly, breath in the exhilarating fresh air, and scrunch my shoulders to my ears to keep in the warmth. Of all the things I do, this is one of the things that makes me feel most like an adult. I am hurrying from work to a little chapel, tucked away in a hospital. My feet will lead me out of the wintry cold and into the warmth of a chapel. I will be united with the universal Church in prayer and receiving the Eucharist. I will rest in the pews and hear the readings proclaimed. While I like going to Mass during the school day, I feel most adult-like when I am trudging through the snow on my way to Mass. Something seems so beautiful about that prospect. In college it was typical for people to go to daily Mass often. There were multiple Mass times on campus but it was only when I would go to Mass off-campus, surrounded by people who had come from work or brought the young children from home, that I felt a strong interior gladness. It was as though college was an artificial world and stepping off the campus and into the town I was stepping into reality. I was taking my place among the adults of the world and showing the importance of the Eucharist. The fact that I wasn't going because it was so accessible or expected, but because I desired to, my heart longed to go.
Tuesday, February 11, 2014
Surrogacy and Women: A Rant
"Wouldn't spending the money and going through the extra effort prove they loved the child more?"
"Isn't is just nice to do for someone?"
In a move that was perhaps questionable from the outset, I decided to open the floor to questions for the entirety of a class period. After a couple weeks of my classes being off-sync, I wanted to finally draw them together and the rampant questions of one class had provided the perfect opening. However, that class asked questions that flowed naturally from one to the next and with only thirteen in the class, there was a feeling of closeness and simplicity. Trying to re-create that atmosphere for a class of twenty-nine was a different story. I offered to them the chance to simply ask questions that they had about the Church or the faith. The first class had found questions that flowed from Our Lady to salvation to exorcisms. The next class found a different route and were spurred on by different questions. They followed the line of exorcisms with a leap to evolution and surrogacy. The result was a class that ended with a bit more intensity and moral depth. Time ran out and they left unsatisfied with some of my answers.
I have never really discussed surrogacy with a class before but I had recently talked about such things with a friend of mine. One girl originally asked the question and she seemed alright with my answer. Others were not.
"Wouldn't spending the money and going through the extra effort prove they loved the child more?"
"Isn't is just nice to do for someone?"
In a move that was perhaps questionable from the outset, I decided to open the floor to questions for the entirety of a class period. After a couple weeks of my classes being off-sync, I wanted to finally draw them together and the rampant questions of one class had provided the perfect opening. However, that class asked questions that flowed naturally from one to the next and with only thirteen in the class, there was a feeling of closeness and simplicity. Trying to re-create that atmosphere for a class of twenty-nine was a different story. I offered to them the chance to simply ask questions that they had about the Church or the faith. The first class had found questions that flowed from Our Lady to salvation to exorcisms. The next class found a different route and were spurred on by different questions. They followed the line of exorcisms with a leap to evolution and surrogacy. The result was a class that ended with a bit more intensity and moral depth. Time ran out and they left unsatisfied with some of my answers.
I have never really discussed surrogacy with a class before but I had recently talked about such things with a friend of mine. One girl originally asked the question and she seemed alright with my answer. Others were not.
"Wouldn't spending the money and going through the extra effort prove they loved the child more?"
I tried to explain that spending money doesn't mean more love. (Only later did I think of prostitution as a fitting example.) Can the couple love this child? Of course. I'm not denying that a couple can love a child they "paid" for, but I don't think it means they love him/her more. A great example came to mind (thanks, Holy Spirit) that the true statement of love would not be that I can afford to create a life in a laboratory but rather that I can let go of my desire to have a biological child and rather adopt. (They argued that adoption was spending money, too. A different matter, I believe.) The love is found not in the willingness to spend a large sum of money so that their desires can be fulfilled but rather that they can accept the disappointment and then love a child that isn't theirs biologically but is accepted totally into their loving family. That seems to indicate a great love.
"Isn't it just nice to do for someone?"
The heartache of infertility is not one that I have experienced nor one that I hope to experience. However, lending my womb to a friend doesn't seem to fall under that category of "nice." This world tends to approach situations with an "how can I get what I want?" attitude. The desire isn't simply, "I want a child." That would be easily remedied. The desire is, "I want a child that is biologically mine even if I cannot carry that life in my womb." Perhaps, even, the "want" is changed to "deserve" or "have a right" to a child.
It isn't "nice" to let yourself be a host for a child. You can love that child, you can love that couple, but you are not permitted to let your womb be used in a paid/unpaid transaction. The worth of woman is more than just a womb. I don't quite understand what people mean when they say the Church suppresses women or has a negative view of women. They have never read Chesterton. Chesterton will throw men under the bus and elevate the dignity of women in one fell swoop. They also have never looked very closely at theology. The Church says no only so that she may say a greater Yes.
Woman, you may not engage in sex outside of marriage because you deserve the lasting love and devotion of a man who will offer his very life for you, not just a few moments right now.
Woman, you may not have an abortion because that little baby in your womb needs you and you will only inflict a great wound on yourself. You deserve better.
Woman, you may not use contraception because you are a precious gift in your entirety and when you offer yourself to your husband, you must offer your whole self holding nothing back, masking nothing of your beauty. Your ability to create life is not something to be disabled but something to be exalted.
Woman, you may not be a surrogate mother because you are far more than a host for the baby of your friends or strangers. You are not an object to be used but rather you are a person to be loved. It is beautiful for the gift of life to grow within your womb but it should be planted there by God and your husband, not by the doctor in the laboratory. You are more than what they would lead you to believe.
How any of this becomes heard as "Women are stepped on by the Church" is beyond me.
This "niceness" is not something that should be encouraged because it is the same "niceness" that will cause me to put you out of your misery if I think your quality of life is not good enough. "The road to Hell is paved with good intentions" is a cliche because there is truth to it. It is not enough to just intend to do good things, you must actually do them. And this good must go beyond my personal understanding of good. (Cue Hitler and his quest for what he deemed good.)
I was surprised with the direction the class took the Q&A session and how we wandered into the realm of sexual morality. Again I am convinced that the way to win the next generation is to have holy couples that teach their children the faith in their home and live it out daily. My rant is finished but I cannot help but wonder what the future holds for this world. The youth are such an important part of the future and their hearts can be in a world-imposed ignorance.
Our Lady of Lourdes, pray for us.
Friday, February 7, 2014
I forgot to look for Jesus...
Last night there was a moment in spiritual direction when the priest was talking to me about seeing Jesus in my students. I was nodding my head, having heard this before and thinking I already knew it but still glad to hear it again.
Then I realized. I haven't been looking for Jesus in my students. I teach them about Jesus, Sacred Scripture, and the Sacred Tradition of the Catholic Church and I forgot to look for Jesus in them. I mean, to seriously look for Jesus in them.
I briefly imagined what that would look like. To look at a classroom full of students and see 25 varying pictures of Christ looking at me. To teach to Jesus residing within each one of their souls and to know that, despite exterior appearances, despite however little response I may receive, that Jesus is resting within them. To know that Jesus, within them, is receiving my words. To know that not every person is against me because Christ, dwelling in them, is very much for me. I imagined being able to look at a student who was annoyed with me, making a scene in my class, or being extremely critical and having the grace to calmly ask myself where Jesus was in that student.
That changes everything. It doesn't make all of the problems or troubles go away. It doesn't make all of students like me. But I can know that there is someone, very present in the room, who is rooting for me, who is willing me to remain faithful, who is sympathizing with me. He is not just with me, He is with them, too. Mother Teresa found Christ in the poorest of the poor. The streets of Calcutta might not be my streets to go out on but I have a different kind of mission field. And like the streets in India, it is brimming with the many faces of Christ. If I but have the eyes to see and the heart to love.
Bl. Mother Teresa, pray for us.
Bl. Pope John Paul II, pray for us.
Then I realized. I haven't been looking for Jesus in my students. I teach them about Jesus, Sacred Scripture, and the Sacred Tradition of the Catholic Church and I forgot to look for Jesus in them. I mean, to seriously look for Jesus in them.
I briefly imagined what that would look like. To look at a classroom full of students and see 25 varying pictures of Christ looking at me. To teach to Jesus residing within each one of their souls and to know that, despite exterior appearances, despite however little response I may receive, that Jesus is resting within them. To know that Jesus, within them, is receiving my words. To know that not every person is against me because Christ, dwelling in them, is very much for me. I imagined being able to look at a student who was annoyed with me, making a scene in my class, or being extremely critical and having the grace to calmly ask myself where Jesus was in that student.
That changes everything. It doesn't make all of the problems or troubles go away. It doesn't make all of students like me. But I can know that there is someone, very present in the room, who is rooting for me, who is willing me to remain faithful, who is sympathizing with me. He is not just with me, He is with them, too. Mother Teresa found Christ in the poorest of the poor. The streets of Calcutta might not be my streets to go out on but I have a different kind of mission field. And like the streets in India, it is brimming with the many faces of Christ. If I but have the eyes to see and the heart to love.
Bl. Mother Teresa, pray for us.
Bl. Pope John Paul II, pray for us.
Wednesday, February 5, 2014
A Country Heart
I'm fairly convinced that my little heart would shrivel a bit if forced to reside in a major city. I could do it, mind you, because I'm stubborn and (I like to think) tough. However, it would be difficult. Recently I made the move from my beloved parents' farm to the "big city" of 150,000. Today, as I sat in traffic caused by a train I had a couple thoughts.
1. It is nice to see these tracks actually being used for a train. I miss the train tracks that run by my home in the country.
2. Lord, I could never live in a big city for too long. Or if I did, my heart would ache a bit and feel a little restricted.
I've been to big cities--New York, San Francisco, Seattle, Chicago, Rome, Madrid--but I think it would take a lot to be at home in one. The novelty would eventually wear off and I wonder if I would just walk around with an extra weight on my shoulders.
Freshman year of college I found myself on the phone with my parents telling them that there were people everywhere. I went to a school boasting about 2500 students but I felt that wherever I turned there were people. My room was no longer a quiet sanctuary and I couldn't think of one place where I could go and be alone. It was a frightening prospect to an introvert. Even as I got used to the people that surrounded me, there were a couple times when I wanted to just go be by myself. Whether it was to have a good cry (and not have to explain why--can't we just feel like crying sometimes?) or to just let down all of my defenses, I longed for a quiet place of my own. I was used to being in the country. My summer days were isolated from the rest of the world with only my sisters, a TV, a stack of books, and the great outdoors to occupy my hours. In the country, if you want to be alone you have so many options to choose from. You can even walk down a road and not encounter any people for quite a while. It was a haven from the rest of the world and I loved it.
Now I find myself driving home most weekends and relishing the sight of stores fading away, houses fading away, and finally paved roads fading away. Then I will turn off my car and hear...nothing. The beautiful sound of silence that is deep and hearty. I can go to my favorite window in the house and gaze down at the surrounding countryside. The creek that forms a frozen bridge to the pastureland and a sprinkling of trees that provide refuge for the wildlife. If you ignore the lone white house on the hill and the power lines, you could feel like you are all alone for miles and miles. That, my friend, is a very good feeling.
I'm a country girl at heart. My soul is rooted in simplicity and silence. The concrete jungle isn't really my thing and house after house isn't the landscape I long for. All of this leads me to conclude (obviously) that Heaven, while being a great communion, must also be filled with deep silence and that beautiful feeling of being alone. I'm not quite sure how it works, but I look forward to finding out.
1. It is nice to see these tracks actually being used for a train. I miss the train tracks that run by my home in the country.
2. Lord, I could never live in a big city for too long. Or if I did, my heart would ache a bit and feel a little restricted.
I've been to big cities--New York, San Francisco, Seattle, Chicago, Rome, Madrid--but I think it would take a lot to be at home in one. The novelty would eventually wear off and I wonder if I would just walk around with an extra weight on my shoulders.
Freshman year of college I found myself on the phone with my parents telling them that there were people everywhere. I went to a school boasting about 2500 students but I felt that wherever I turned there were people. My room was no longer a quiet sanctuary and I couldn't think of one place where I could go and be alone. It was a frightening prospect to an introvert. Even as I got used to the people that surrounded me, there were a couple times when I wanted to just go be by myself. Whether it was to have a good cry (and not have to explain why--can't we just feel like crying sometimes?) or to just let down all of my defenses, I longed for a quiet place of my own. I was used to being in the country. My summer days were isolated from the rest of the world with only my sisters, a TV, a stack of books, and the great outdoors to occupy my hours. In the country, if you want to be alone you have so many options to choose from. You can even walk down a road and not encounter any people for quite a while. It was a haven from the rest of the world and I loved it.
Now I find myself driving home most weekends and relishing the sight of stores fading away, houses fading away, and finally paved roads fading away. Then I will turn off my car and hear...nothing. The beautiful sound of silence that is deep and hearty. I can go to my favorite window in the house and gaze down at the surrounding countryside. The creek that forms a frozen bridge to the pastureland and a sprinkling of trees that provide refuge for the wildlife. If you ignore the lone white house on the hill and the power lines, you could feel like you are all alone for miles and miles. That, my friend, is a very good feeling.
I'm a country girl at heart. My soul is rooted in simplicity and silence. The concrete jungle isn't really my thing and house after house isn't the landscape I long for. All of this leads me to conclude (obviously) that Heaven, while being a great communion, must also be filled with deep silence and that beautiful feeling of being alone. I'm not quite sure how it works, but I look forward to finding out.
Wednesday, January 15, 2014
Fullness
I've learned some lessons the hard way. As a teacher I've done things that I thought would work really well but did not. I've said things that I thought they would understand and yet I could not believe how horrible they would misconstrue them. So sometimes I am left understanding that I made a mistake yet not certain how to actually do it the correct way. That obviously didn't work. But what will?
My first year of teaching (way back last year) I talked to my classes about objective truth, subjective truth, and how the Church has the "fullness of truth." The phrase rolled off my tongue easily after hearing it said with great love and passion at Franciscan. Little did I realize that this was, to some of my students, a very offensive thing to say. Some were pretty upset with me and I was baffled as to why they would feel such emotions.
The Church has the fullness of truth. Wouldn't nearly 12 years of Catholic school lead them to see the beauty of such a statement? I said it as fact and they resented it. I paid for my "sin" the rest of the semester. I was a new teacher, a bit timid, trying to preach the Gospel, and ending up making students dislike me and the Church. That was how I felt, at least.
So I became a little gun-shy of the statement "fullness of truth" because I knew what a powder keg it could be. Yet isn't the truth of the Church supposed to be explosive? It radically transformed the world as it was and, if unleashed, can do the same thing in our modern world. Yet I waver. I wonder if I will push the students away more if I speak too strongly. Yet I refuse to water Theology class down to "Jesus loves you." I want to delve into that truth. "Jesus loves you and so He gave His life for you. Suffered and died for you. His human heart ached for you. He loves you at every breath you take and wills your very heart to keep beating. That is what I mean by love."
So when the "fullness of truth" phrase came up today in one of my classes I was hesitant yet determined to speak clearly. While being gentle and charitable, I wanted to not be apologetic. I didn't want to say:
"Yes, the Church believes she has the fullness of truth but I am very sorry that she says it like that. She could just say she thinks she is correct...it would be essentially the same thing. Let's just say the Church is a really good institutional body but sometimes we let it go to our heads."
OK, perhaps a bit dramatic but I didn't want to give them the wrong impression by swinging my gavel down and condemning the rest of humanity to Hell. I don't think that but students can conjure up rather impressive falsehoods in their minds.
I said the Church has the fullness of truth. That to hide this truth or to claim to be just another church, any one of which would be fine to join, when we believe that it was instituted by Christ Himself would be a lie. Christ was pretty dogmatic. "I am the Way, the Truth, and the Life." That statement doesn't leave much room to follow some other way. He also was known to anger people and to upset modern notions. Perhaps that is what we need today.
Tomorrow I might be facing a class full of students who have thought about what I said and have thrown me in a camp of Catholics who think they are better than everyone else. Maybe I will find another tempest brewing for this semester. Whatever may come, I hope they know of my sincerity to teach the truth and, despite all of my fumbles and quirks, that they will come to know Jesus Christ in a deeper way. The real Jesus Christ who desires to break into our lives, wreck havoc, and bring us to Heaven. The fullness of Heaven.
My first year of teaching (way back last year) I talked to my classes about objective truth, subjective truth, and how the Church has the "fullness of truth." The phrase rolled off my tongue easily after hearing it said with great love and passion at Franciscan. Little did I realize that this was, to some of my students, a very offensive thing to say. Some were pretty upset with me and I was baffled as to why they would feel such emotions.
The Church has the fullness of truth. Wouldn't nearly 12 years of Catholic school lead them to see the beauty of such a statement? I said it as fact and they resented it. I paid for my "sin" the rest of the semester. I was a new teacher, a bit timid, trying to preach the Gospel, and ending up making students dislike me and the Church. That was how I felt, at least.
So I became a little gun-shy of the statement "fullness of truth" because I knew what a powder keg it could be. Yet isn't the truth of the Church supposed to be explosive? It radically transformed the world as it was and, if unleashed, can do the same thing in our modern world. Yet I waver. I wonder if I will push the students away more if I speak too strongly. Yet I refuse to water Theology class down to "Jesus loves you." I want to delve into that truth. "Jesus loves you and so He gave His life for you. Suffered and died for you. His human heart ached for you. He loves you at every breath you take and wills your very heart to keep beating. That is what I mean by love."
So when the "fullness of truth" phrase came up today in one of my classes I was hesitant yet determined to speak clearly. While being gentle and charitable, I wanted to not be apologetic. I didn't want to say:
"Yes, the Church believes she has the fullness of truth but I am very sorry that she says it like that. She could just say she thinks she is correct...it would be essentially the same thing. Let's just say the Church is a really good institutional body but sometimes we let it go to our heads."
OK, perhaps a bit dramatic but I didn't want to give them the wrong impression by swinging my gavel down and condemning the rest of humanity to Hell. I don't think that but students can conjure up rather impressive falsehoods in their minds.
I said the Church has the fullness of truth. That to hide this truth or to claim to be just another church, any one of which would be fine to join, when we believe that it was instituted by Christ Himself would be a lie. Christ was pretty dogmatic. "I am the Way, the Truth, and the Life." That statement doesn't leave much room to follow some other way. He also was known to anger people and to upset modern notions. Perhaps that is what we need today.
Tomorrow I might be facing a class full of students who have thought about what I said and have thrown me in a camp of Catholics who think they are better than everyone else. Maybe I will find another tempest brewing for this semester. Whatever may come, I hope they know of my sincerity to teach the truth and, despite all of my fumbles and quirks, that they will come to know Jesus Christ in a deeper way. The real Jesus Christ who desires to break into our lives, wreck havoc, and bring us to Heaven. The fullness of Heaven.
Wednesday, January 8, 2014
Jesus Take the Wheel
"OK, Lord, this is Your classroom."
That might make you think that I am a very holy teacher. Trustingly surrendering my classroom to the Divine Teacher and allowing Him to work through me.
In truth, that was a prayer murmured out of necessity. A final spiritual dropping to my knees and surrendering out of the inability to do anything else. It was the first day of a new semester and I was becoming nervous again at the prospect of being scrutinized by new seniors with the inevitable assessment of found wanting. My emotional transition to a new home wasn't really playing in my favor and to make it a bit more challenging, I forgot my school bag. Of course I remembered to bring my prayer journal, Bible, cell phone, and prayer materials. However, I had completely neglected to bring my computer with my introduction PowerPoint and a fun brain activity for them to go through.
At 7:30 in the morning outside my car in the school parking lot, I frantically thought of racing home (15 minutes away) and back to school with my computer. It was possible, though, that I would come to school late--something I am certain would have led to a melt-down. Yet if I managed to not be late, I would assuredly come in panicked and short of breath. This was not a good beginning.
It was here, in the midst of panic and stress that I "surrendered" my class to the Lord. I realized, as I prayed this silent prayer, that it was because my own means had failed that I was giving God the reins. If I would have had my computer with the PowerPoint filled with cute family pictures, I would have started the semester in a state of semi-confidence. Instead, the Lord was given control at the last minute.
This image just come to mind as a plausible analogy of what I did:
I'm in a car driving. Then the roads get slippery. My omniscient, omnipotent passenger asks if He can help. But I've got it. All of sudden the car is careening toward a cliff or an oncoming semi and just when I'm about to slip over the edge or be crushed, I pull my hands from the steering wheel, cradle my head in my hands, and shout, "Fine! Take over!"
I felt a little guilty surrendering my classroom only after all my plans had failed. Perhaps it is a lesson for the semester. I am not in control. It is better to just give God my classroom and myself right now instead of waiting until things are crashing and burning all around me.
My goal for this brand new semester is to take the passenger seat and allow God to dictate my classes. Not once I tried my way and it failed. But His way, always His way.
Who knows---maybe God will have a better method than me.
That might make you think that I am a very holy teacher. Trustingly surrendering my classroom to the Divine Teacher and allowing Him to work through me.
In truth, that was a prayer murmured out of necessity. A final spiritual dropping to my knees and surrendering out of the inability to do anything else. It was the first day of a new semester and I was becoming nervous again at the prospect of being scrutinized by new seniors with the inevitable assessment of found wanting. My emotional transition to a new home wasn't really playing in my favor and to make it a bit more challenging, I forgot my school bag. Of course I remembered to bring my prayer journal, Bible, cell phone, and prayer materials. However, I had completely neglected to bring my computer with my introduction PowerPoint and a fun brain activity for them to go through.
At 7:30 in the morning outside my car in the school parking lot, I frantically thought of racing home (15 minutes away) and back to school with my computer. It was possible, though, that I would come to school late--something I am certain would have led to a melt-down. Yet if I managed to not be late, I would assuredly come in panicked and short of breath. This was not a good beginning.
It was here, in the midst of panic and stress that I "surrendered" my class to the Lord. I realized, as I prayed this silent prayer, that it was because my own means had failed that I was giving God the reins. If I would have had my computer with the PowerPoint filled with cute family pictures, I would have started the semester in a state of semi-confidence. Instead, the Lord was given control at the last minute.
This image just come to mind as a plausible analogy of what I did:
I'm in a car driving. Then the roads get slippery. My omniscient, omnipotent passenger asks if He can help. But I've got it. All of sudden the car is careening toward a cliff or an oncoming semi and just when I'm about to slip over the edge or be crushed, I pull my hands from the steering wheel, cradle my head in my hands, and shout, "Fine! Take over!"
I felt a little guilty surrendering my classroom only after all my plans had failed. Perhaps it is a lesson for the semester. I am not in control. It is better to just give God my classroom and myself right now instead of waiting until things are crashing and burning all around me.
My goal for this brand new semester is to take the passenger seat and allow God to dictate my classes. Not once I tried my way and it failed. But His way, always His way.
Who knows---maybe God will have a better method than me.
Tuesday, December 3, 2013
One Little Success for the Holy Spirit
It is the little things that seem to make a world of difference. I remember reading a quote by a saint that essentially critiqued the readers for allowing their emotions to control them so much. That we allow ourselves to become unduly happy when things go well and inordinately depressed when things go badly. Instead, we are to remain more constant, trusting everything to the Lord.
I do not do that very well. Nevertheless, today is one of those days that I am perhaps unduly happy. I'll take it. There were a couple moments today that I felt a beautiful joy. The simple thing of placing in the classroom another tissue box decorated by a student in a Theological theme. Silly, perhaps. I just loved the idea that even my tissue boxes are decorated with Scripture and pictures of saints. The little things.
Today I felt elated as I won a victory when I didn't even know I was in a battle. A couple weeks ago I was perusing an online Catholic bookstore. I love books. I love to buy books. I wish I could buy more books. I saw that Delivered was being sold, a book that gives testimonies of people who have fought and conquered, with God's grace, an addiction to pornography. I looked at the cover, read a snippet of the book, and was intrigued. The price was $8-9 for one copy. However, one could purchase 20 books at only $2 per book. I love a good deal. Good deals and good books make one of the most irresistible combinations.
Trish, do you really need 20 copies of a book you have never even read? I was just about to say "No" when I felt something within that told me to just buy them. So I did. And then I impatiently waited 2 weeks for them to arrive at my doorstep. Last night I opened the box, took off the plastic wrap from one of the books, and began to read through it. I didn't read the whole book, but I read a few of the stories and I was taken. I don't know much about pornography. In many ways it seems like it is in a different world than I am in. I know this crisis affects me because it affects people I interact with, but I don't typically think of pornography on a daily or weekly basis.
The problem that remained was how would I get them into the hands of my students. I could have the most life-changing book but unless they were reading it, it wouldn't make a difference. So I did what any self-respecting teacher would do. I offered them extra credit. The good sign was that neither class asked how much extra credit. All they have to do is read one of the stories (10-15 pages) and write two paragraphs--one summarizing the story and another speaking about pornography and the effect it has on the world, what they think of it, or other problems that go along with pornography addiction.
Nine students from each class took the book and I was thrilled. Just having it in their hands is a success I am willing to celebrate. My hope is that the one story they have to read for extra credit will turn into curiosity about the other stories. Maybe they will tell another classmate or someone in another class about the book and lend it to them. The possibilities are endless!
This is a rather small thing considering that maybe none of them will actually follow through. Yet it seems like a triumph to me. I will take that triumph, minuscule though it may be, because victories do not come often or easily in this battlefield. So perhaps the Holy Spirit is doing something great through these little books that my students are being bribed to read.
Now who says that buying an excessive number of books is a bad thing?
(Purchase your own copy of Delivered and spread the truth! http://shop.catholic.com/catalog/product/view/id/2364/category/44/)
UPDATE:
After the first day, I am still running on excitement. One of my students spoke to me after class about something and as I was looking for a paper he quietly asked about the book and how I found it. I told him I received an e-mail from a place advertising the book and I just decided to buy 20 copies. Quietly he told me that he wished he had the book 5 years ago. It took a moment but what he was telling me finally sank in. He told me he plans to read the whole book. Deo gratias! Keep going, Holy Spirit, keep going!
I do not do that very well. Nevertheless, today is one of those days that I am perhaps unduly happy. I'll take it. There were a couple moments today that I felt a beautiful joy. The simple thing of placing in the classroom another tissue box decorated by a student in a Theological theme. Silly, perhaps. I just loved the idea that even my tissue boxes are decorated with Scripture and pictures of saints. The little things.
Today I felt elated as I won a victory when I didn't even know I was in a battle. A couple weeks ago I was perusing an online Catholic bookstore. I love books. I love to buy books. I wish I could buy more books. I saw that Delivered was being sold, a book that gives testimonies of people who have fought and conquered, with God's grace, an addiction to pornography. I looked at the cover, read a snippet of the book, and was intrigued. The price was $8-9 for one copy. However, one could purchase 20 books at only $2 per book. I love a good deal. Good deals and good books make one of the most irresistible combinations.
Trish, do you really need 20 copies of a book you have never even read? I was just about to say "No" when I felt something within that told me to just buy them. So I did. And then I impatiently waited 2 weeks for them to arrive at my doorstep. Last night I opened the box, took off the plastic wrap from one of the books, and began to read through it. I didn't read the whole book, but I read a few of the stories and I was taken. I don't know much about pornography. In many ways it seems like it is in a different world than I am in. I know this crisis affects me because it affects people I interact with, but I don't typically think of pornography on a daily or weekly basis.
The problem that remained was how would I get them into the hands of my students. I could have the most life-changing book but unless they were reading it, it wouldn't make a difference. So I did what any self-respecting teacher would do. I offered them extra credit. The good sign was that neither class asked how much extra credit. All they have to do is read one of the stories (10-15 pages) and write two paragraphs--one summarizing the story and another speaking about pornography and the effect it has on the world, what they think of it, or other problems that go along with pornography addiction.
Nine students from each class took the book and I was thrilled. Just having it in their hands is a success I am willing to celebrate. My hope is that the one story they have to read for extra credit will turn into curiosity about the other stories. Maybe they will tell another classmate or someone in another class about the book and lend it to them. The possibilities are endless!
This is a rather small thing considering that maybe none of them will actually follow through. Yet it seems like a triumph to me. I will take that triumph, minuscule though it may be, because victories do not come often or easily in this battlefield. So perhaps the Holy Spirit is doing something great through these little books that my students are being bribed to read.
Now who says that buying an excessive number of books is a bad thing?
(Purchase your own copy of Delivered and spread the truth! http://shop.catholic.com/catalog/product/view/id/2364/category/44/)
UPDATE:
After the first day, I am still running on excitement. One of my students spoke to me after class about something and as I was looking for a paper he quietly asked about the book and how I found it. I told him I received an e-mail from a place advertising the book and I just decided to buy 20 copies. Quietly he told me that he wished he had the book 5 years ago. It took a moment but what he was telling me finally sank in. He told me he plans to read the whole book. Deo gratias! Keep going, Holy Spirit, keep going!
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)