Tag Archives: All Saints Pasadena

Holly dyed her hair: more on myths of female frailty, our fear of women’s anger, and what happens when the truth comes out

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I posted earlier this year against the “myth of female frailty” and the lie that “one mistake will ruin your life”. The topic of that myth arose again this week when I met with one of my former All Saints youth group kids, “Holly.”

Holly, whom I’ve known since she was in eighth grade, is now headed into her senior year of high school; she’s 17. When I first met Holly, and indeed for the next several years, Holly “presented” outwardly as the pretty, outgoing, poised and popular blonde whose passage through adolescence seems almost unfairly graceful. Holly was much sought after as a friend (and more) by boys and girls alike; at our Wednesday night youth group meetings, I often saw not-very-subtle attempts by kids of both sexes to sit on “Holly’s couch” and be near her.

Of course, Holly was far more than the walking embodiment of a stock American stereotype. Not only was she exceptionally bright and a particularly talented writer, her childhood had been touched by tragedy and loss to a degree that set her well apart from most of her peers. A few — a very few — of her friends got to know the depth of that loss and its impact on Holly’s life; I was one of the small group of adults to whom she also regularly turned. I watched her struggle with the disconnect between how the rest of the world perceived her and how she felt on the inside, and we talked often about her frustration with the realization that she was the object of desire, admiration, jealousy, and envy when for the most part, she felt out of place and frequently lonely. Holly’s is not an unfamiliar story — at its most extreme, call it the “Richard Cory” phenomenon after that famous Edward Arlington Robinson poem so loved by generations of misperceived adolescents.

This summer, Holly broke up with her first serious boyfriend, got her first lead in a play, and let go of a great many of her old friends. When I met with her earlier this week, her long blonde hair was mahogany brown. Despite the heat, she wasn’t wearing the short skirts that had been her trademark since junior high school. She wore corduroy pants, a t-shirt, and a vest. Not a trace of make-up on her face, but when we met at a local coffee shop, there was a sense of real happiness behind her eyes. Holly’s making changes; the outside shift reflects an inner transformation — and the brunette tresses a greater willingness to expose to the world the darker, more complex aspects of her personality. Continue reading →

No more civil marriages at All Saints

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I’ve had my differences with my former Episcopal parish, All Saints Pasadena. I served briefly on its vestry in 2001-2002, and was a volunteer youth minister and confirmation class teacher there from 2000-2007. My third wife and I were married in 2001 by an All Saints priest (now dean of the cathedral in San Diego), the dear Scott Richardson. The place has alternately inspired and exasperated me, as the many posts in the All Saints archive reveal.

But there is much to love about the church, and much to admire about its rector, the Rev. Ed Bacon. And this week, Ed and the Vestry to which I once belonged have made me very proud. This week, the Vestry passed a resolution making it clear that effective immediately, priests of the church will no longer sign marriage certificates. Same-sex and other-sex couples can continue to have their weddings celebrated; the priests will continue to join two willing people in matrimony. But since marriage certificates are now, thanks to Proposition 8, only issued to other-sexed couples, the church has decided to withhold its imprimatur on any civil marriages until justice and equality are restored. Here’s an excerpt from the resolution (PDF file linked):

WHEREAS, the institution of civil marriage in the State of California is, as a result of
Proposition 8 and the Court’s decision, a constitutionally-mandated instrument of
discrimination, which furthers injustice and denies same-sex couples the fundamental
dignities to which each human being is entitled…

WHEREAS, our active participation in the discriminatory system of civil marriage is
inconsistent with Jesus’ call to strive for justice and peace among all people and respect
the dignity of every human being; and

WHEREAS, All Saints Church is called to make the sacrament of marriage equally
available to all couples, regardless of their sexual orientation;

NOW THEREFORE BE IT RESOLVED that the Rector, Wardens and Vestry do declare
that the sacramental right of marriage is available to all couples, but that the clergy of All
Saints Church will not sign civil marriage certificates so long as the right to marry is
denied to same-sex couples.

Were I still on the Vestry, I’d have happily voted for it. Good on All Saints.

“The Good Divorce”: prioritizing justice over unity, and the recognition that the Anglican Communion has run its course

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It’s been a very long time since I’ve blogged about the Episcopal Church and the worldwide Anglican Communion. Not so long ago, my spiritual life was centered at All Saints Church in Pasadena, where I served on the vestry and worked for many years as a youth volunteer. My faith journey, as it so often has, uprooted me from the comfort zone of that large and dynamic parish a little over a year ago. But I remain, in some sense, an Anglican.

The Communion is in turmoil. (A great collection of articles, written from a nearly-neutral perspective, can be found here.) Battles over the ordination of women (a fight that goes back more than thirty years), the consecration of women bishops, and over homosexuality in the church have hit a boiling point this summer. As has been widely reported, a loose coalition of conservative Anglicans (financed by disaffected traditionalists in the First World, but led by prelates from the Third) held a meeting last month in Jerusalem to plan a strategy for an “alternative” Communion. Other bishops are gathering in England this summer for the decennial Lambeth Conference under the auspices of the titular head of the Communion, the Archbishop of Canterbury. The good Archbishop is besieged from all sides.

The most impressive church in the whole Anglican Communion, and perhaps the world, is to me the glorious Durham Cathedral. I wrote my doctoral dissertation on the role of the prince bishops of Durham in the Anglo-Scottish wars, and spent much time in this loveliest of northeastern English cities. I never tired of visiting the stunning and majestic cathedral. The successor to my beloved medieval warrior bishops is the great N.T. Wright, author of a number of important works of popular theology and a leading evangelical voice within the church. I admire Bishop Tom, as he is known, and envy him his spectacular accomodations and his winsome writing style. I don’t share his traditional views on homosexuality, but have great respect for him regardless. Continue reading →

Guys in love: celebrating the new SUNY Oswego study on teenage boys and relationships

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Reader “English Rosebud” sent me a link this weekend to this story that ran in the New York Times on Friday: Inside the Mind of the Boy Dating Your Daughter. As she mentions in her email, it’s a powerful corrective to the widespread notion that teenage boys have just one thing on their mind.

The stereotype of the 16-year-old boy is that he has sex on the brain. But a fascinating new report suggests that boys are motivated more by love and a desire to form real relationships with the girls they date.

Based on a study that appears in this month’s Journal of Adolescence, the researchers (from SUNY Oswego) concluded:

Among the boys who had been sexually active, physical desire and wanting to know what sex feels like were among the top three reasons they pursued sex. However, the boys were equally likely to say they pursued sex because they loved their partner. Interestingly, only 14 percent said they sought sex because they wanted to lose their virginity, and 9 percent did so to fit in with friends.

The researchers note that there is no way to assess the truthfulness of the boys’ answers, but the rate of sexual activity in the sample is consistent with national trends, suggesting the boys were answering honestly. The survey group was ethnically and economically diverse, and 95 indicated they were heterosexual, while 10 boys didn’t answer the question.

Bold emphasis mine.

The overall findings are contrary to cultural beliefs that boys are interested primarily in sex and not relationships.

“Let’s give boys more credit,’’ said study author Andrew Smiler, an assistant professor of psychology at the university. “Although some of them are just looking for sex, most boys are looking for a relationship. The kids we know mostly aren’t like this horrible stereotype. They are generally interested in dating and getting to know their partners.’’

(I wish Professor Smiler hadn’t used the phrase “horrible stereotype”. I wince at the implication that wanting sex for pleasure is “horrible”. After all, both men and women do sometimes pursue sex outside of the context of an enduring relationship. While dishonesty and manipulation are indeed “horrible”, the pursuit of pleasure for its own sake need not be accompanied by deceit or abuse. It’s “slut-shaming” at its most tiresome to suggest otherwise.)

Still, I’m delighted with this study, and not at all surprised. I’ve worked with adolescent boys as a youth minister for many years, and I’ve taught slightly older young men for even longer. One of the most common complaints that I — and anyone else who works with teen boys — hear is “I’m tired of having everyone think all I care about is sex”. Like the boys in the SUNY study, the teens I work with don’t deny that they are sexual creatures; they don’t pretend that sex isn’t frequently on their minds. What they find more frustrating than unsatisfied horniness is the enduring stereotype that they have no real interest in love and romance. When speaking of teens of either sex, it’s a false dichotomy to suggest that they want either sex or a relationship. All the recent research suggests that adolescent girls can have powerful libidos; this study makes clear what youth workers already know: that teenage boys, as horny as they are, have deep and complex emotional desires. Continue reading →

Jesus doesn’t care who the current Caesar is: some thoughts on the latest phase in the All Saints quarrel

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While we were away, the IRS issued an odd ruling in the All Saints Pasadena controversy. For more on the current state of the controversy, see Auguste’s post at Pandagon.

After an investigation of nearly three years, the IRS has decided not to suspend my former parish’s tax-exempt status over a sermon preached by rector-emeritus George Regas just before the November 2004 election. The IRS continues to maintain that the original sermon was inappropriate and amounted to “improper interference” in the election; thus, All Saints is off the hook with the government but still has no clarity about what is and what is not permissible from the pulpit. To make matters worse, there is some evidence of inappropriate collusion between the Bush justice department and the IRS, reported by the Times here.

I’m troubled by the allegations of justice department interference with the IRS investigation. That seems nakedly partisan, and it certainly warrants an inquiry of its own. But as the only blogger in the country who was present for Regas’ original sermon (I blogged about it very critically the next day), I agree completely with the agency’s conclusion that Regas’ sermon did amount to intervention in the presidential race. I’m relieved that All Saints is off the hook with the IRS. I may have left the parish after many years of loyal service to its youth group, but I still have genuine affection for many folks who worship there and for the church’s overall mission. All Saints does a lot of good, and it will continue to do so. It can do that good much more easily as a tax-exempt organization.

But Regas’ 2004 sermon was, as I wrote at the time, filled with appalling self-righteousness and indefensible certainty about how Jesus would want us to vote. I’ve spent time in right-wing fundamentalist churches, and until I came to All Saints, would have told you that “liberal fundamentalism” was an oxymoron. The heart of fundamentalism, however, is not reactionary politics. The heart of fundamentalism is certainty, a certainty that brooks no doubt or counter-argument, a certainty that flashes into self-righteous anger or sneering superiority the moment it is challenged. And the Regas sermon (complete with all the rhetorical flourish that a transcript cannot capture) was liberal fundamentalism at its self-satisfied worst: it made it clear that Jesus would want his followers to vote for John Kerry. If the sermon honored the letter of the IRS law on tax-exempt organizations, it violated the spirit in a gross and obvious way. I stand by what I wrote in 2004:

Both liberal and conservative Christians are too enamored of the power of the secular state to transform the hearts and minds and lives of its citizens and the citizens of the world. Yes, the moral character of the ruler matters. Yes, the policies of the state matter — and good Christians can differ in good conscience as to what those policies ought to be. But the God I worship had little time for great leaders when he walked the earth. Jesus was political, yes — but His politics were far more radical than anything any modern politician could possibly espouse. To claim Jesus’ endorsement for any party, any candidate, is unbiblical and profoundly offensive.

Those who defended All Saints were right that a double standard was clearly in place; many conservative churches regularly distribute “voting guides” to their congregants that clearly urge a vote for Republican candidates. That’s wrong as well, and I am angry by the apparent inconsistency of the investigation. Regas may be a fundamentalist of the left who stepped right up to (if not over) the line; there are even more fundamentalists of the right who regularly cross that line. It’s not unreasonable to ask for some consistency from the IRS, the Justice Department, and the courts.

Since I’m so critical of both left and right, do I think that the broader church should withdraw from the public sphere? Of course not. The church ought to be political, but it ought to embody the politics of Jesus rather than the politics of party. Last time I read my gospel, Jesus was not interested in forming a political movement to overthrow Caesar or Herod Antipas; he didn’t lobby Rome for a replacement for Pontius Pilate. Jesus wanted justice, radical justice — and nothing He ever said could possibly be construed as an endorsement of the idea that the State was primarily responsible for providing that justice. Changing the Caesar was not then and ought not be now the role of the church. It matters little that today’s aspiring Caesars are Christians; once in office, their loyalties to the state almost invariably trump their religious convictions.

I do care who wins elections. I do participate in voting, but I vote as a citizen of the United States, not as a Christian. My Christian obligations cross borders and have nothing to do with the passports I hold. As an American, I vote my conscience on issues like, say school funding and the capital gains tax. I have no idea whatsoever how Jesus feels about issues such as charter schools or relations with North Korea, and I’d reject categorically the appropriation of His name by any side in the discussion of these issues. Yes, Jesus was in favor of peace; yes, he asked us to “turn the other cheek.” But good Christians can disagree about how it is we are to live out that call to peace, and we can disagree as well as to whether the sanctions on our personal behavior are also binding on nation-states. And when any pastor implies that Jesus supports one candidate more than another in an upcoming election, that pastor not only violates IRS code, he or she misleads the congregation into believing that lasting, enduring global transformation will be accomplished by the princes of this world.

“Often in Error, Never in Doubt”: on leaving All Saints and a penchant for always ending up in leadership

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When I first started blogging four years ago this month (at a now long-defunct site), I was in active leadership at Pasadena Mennonite Church. After several years of worshipping at All Saints Pasadena, I left for the Mennonites in mid-2002. I remained, however, active in youth ministry at All Saints.

I left the Mennonites and returned to All Saints in late 2004. It was exhausting to be part of two very different church cultures, and though I felt more at home theologically among the Anabaptists, I felt more culturally comfortable with the Anglicans. I’ve written about this journey back and forth before (see here, here, here).

While at times I’ve been unhappy with what I’ve heard from the pulpit at All Saints, I’ve stayed at this flagship church of progressive Episcopalianism out of my devotion to my beloved senior high youth group. For nearly eight years, I was active as both a confirmation class teacher and Wednesday night facilitator, and believe I played a valuable role in the lives of many young people there. Though at times I had theological and political differences with the church in which I worked, I was able to put those aside (most of the time, anyway) because of my loyalty to the teens.

But this past spring, the church leadership and I came to what I can only describe as a fundamental philosophical disagreement about what youth ministry is and ought to be. Because so many people (including teenagers) associated with All Saints Pasadena read this blog, I’m choosing to avoid sharing details of this profound split between myself and at least some members of the church staff. I will say that all the adults involved were passionately committed to the well-being of “our” teens. But that shared commitment was not enough to bridge a wide gulf over what it means to pastor teenagers and what it means to provide them with a safe, nurturing, loving spiritual environment. The upshot: I’ve left the All Saints Pasadena community on amicable (if strained) terms.

I hate “church shopping.” I learned early on in my life as an adult convert that no one church was going to be perfect. As in some of my youthful romantic relationships, my church experiences followed a tiresome pattern: initial enthusiasm and idealization followed by gradual disillusionment, separation, and the repetition of the cycle. I broke that cycle with women at long last, and had hoped to break it with churches. But I didn’t make the kind of pledge to All Saints Pasadena that I did to my wife. And sometimes, being on a spiritual journey means moving on.

I’m not a cradle Episcopalian, a cradle Catholic, a cradle Mennonite, a cradle Pentecostal. I was raised by atheists, after all. I was baptized and confirmed into the Roman Catholic church as a college student, and began a spiritual journey that took me from studying (very briefly) to be a Dominican to the Assemblies of God, the Mennonite Church USA, and in and out of the Anglican Communion (at least twice). In that sense, there has indeed been some symmetry between my chaotic romantic life and my quest for a spiritual home in which my relationship with Jesus can flower.

Even before this serious disagreement with the All Saints leadership over what was best for the youth emerged, I was beginning to think it was time for me to find a different spiritual home. All Saints does many things well, but one thing it doesn’t do as often as I’d like: preach the central importance of relationship with Christ. Like many progressive, liberal churches, All Saints does a wonderful job of calling people to action. All Saints not only encourages political activism, it encourages valuable social work in the community. Faith without works is indeed dead faith. But works without faith often leave those who do the works exhausted and alienated and in desperate need of spiritual refreshment. And for me, that spiritual refreshment comes in the reminder that Jesus is Lord. And that reminder isn’t offered at All Saints as often as I’d like.

So I’ve been going to the Warehouse. I sit quietly in the back, participating with enthusiasm but without any desire to step forward into leadership. I have a bad habit with churches: I join them, start volunteering, and within six months, am invariably asked into leadership. I was only at All Saints Pasadena for two years before I was invited onto the Vestry (if you know how vestries work at large Episcopal parishes, that’s a fast trajectory); I was at Pasadena Mennonite for all of five months before I was placed on the Leadership Team.

Whenever I’ve joined a church in the past, I’ve compensated for my feelings of anxiety about a new experience by throwing myself into the center of that church’s life. My inner ENFP kicks in, and I start signing up for committees and volunteer opportunities, showing up early and staying late. And I’m a pretty smooth talkin’ guy who can project a considerable amount of enthusiasm when called upon, so invariably I end up in leadership much too soon. By the time I start asking questions about whether the church and I are really compatible, I’m enmeshed in responsibilities and duties. Heck, I asked each of my first three wives to marry me within four months of starting to date them. My family motto, passed on for generations, is “often in error, never in doubt.” In church and in relationships, I’ve lived that out for years.

I’ve known she who is today my wife for many years. We dated for nearly three years before getting married in 2005. Never before had I moved so slowly, and that willingness to do what is so against my impulsive nature has paid enormous dividends. It’s time for me to start practicing that same degree of care and caution in my church relationships. That doesn’t mean diminishing the intensity of my love for Jesus. It does mean allowing myself to go to church just to worship, without feeling compelled to start taking over. It means resisting the urge to move into leadership before I am ready. It means being okay with going somewhere where not everyone knows my name.

The other reason to be hesitant about doing more than worshipping at my “next” church: when I’m in leadership, I have an obligation not to make public statements that are at odds with church teaching. When I was at Pasadena Mennonite, I got into trouble because I take a publicly affirming position on gay marriage — and I also feel quite strongly that pre-marital sex is not always offensive to God. At All Saints Pasadena, I’ve taken issue with a variety of stances adopted by the church and its leadership. When I represent the church as a senior youth leader or a Vestryman or a Prayer Team coordinator, I have an obligation to conform my public reflections to church teaching. But as someone whose views don’t fit easily into any particular political or theological template, that’s very hard.

I know full well I don’t share every view held by the leadership at Lake Avenue (the parent church of Warehouse). I like the way folks get together there to praise God, and I want to be with them as they do it. But I’ll be in the cheap seats rather than right up front, at least for now. And though I’m sure I’ll end up in leadership and youth ministry again somewhere soon, I think it’s okay to take a time-out for now.

“Why not rather be cheated?” A note on lawsuits, divorce, and Anglican court battles

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In a rather surprising ruling, the 4th Circuit of the California Court of Appeal ruled in favor of the Episcopal Diocese of Los Angeles yesterday. For those not in the loop, three conservative parishes within our diocese have broken away over the issue of homosexuality; in opposition to same-sex unions and the ordination of non-celibate gay clergy, these parishes have sought to leave the diocese — and take their church property with them. Yesterday, reversing a lower-court ruling, the appellate justices said that the church buildings belong to the diocese, not to the rebel parishes. Y’all can leave, in other words, but the bricks and mortar stay.

It’s a setback for the break-away traditionalists in California, and perhaps nationwide. Though the Times reports that the rebels haven’t decided on whether to appeal to the state Supreme Court, I can’t imagine that they won’t. The stakes are much too high to let things come to a tidy end here.

I have mixed feelings, of course. On the one hand, I’m a strong supporter of same-sex blessings and of the full integration of non-celibate gays and lesbians into holy orders and into the full, rich life of the Anglican Communion. I’ve also known Bishop Bruno for years, going back long before his stunning upset victory in the 1999 bishop coadjutor election. (You’d have to know a lot about dull diocesan politics to know what a shocker that was. He beat the favored candidate of All Saints Pasadena, and it took a couple of years to patch things up between the new bishop and the largest parish in the diocese. Let’s just say that there were some very, very disgruntled people at All Saints when Jon was elected; they’ve become “gruntled” since.) So as the bishop’s friend and admirer, I support him in his decision to do battle.

On the other hand, I know a thing or two about divorce. And having managed to get through three divorces without any serious legal fights, I know that the smart thing to do is to be generous towards those with whom you are ending a covenanted relationship. In the end, as my third wife and I agreed when we split, “it’s just money.” And no, neither of us had so much cash that we could afford to be recklessly cavalier about the subject — we just both knew that new houses could be bought, new silver patterns selected, new retirement accounts opened. Adding my three divorces together, I’ll reckon I walked away from somewhere around half a million dollars (most of it in real estate, of course). Could I find good use for $500,000 today? No doubt! Would it have been worth a nasty court battle, or two, or three? No.

I love what Paul says about lawsuits in 1 Corinthians 6:5. It was a great comfort to me during my last divorce, which was amicable and kind and generous on all sides:

The very fact that you have lawsuits among you means you have been completely defeated already. Why not rather be wronged? Why not rather be cheated?

So many people say “I’m not going to court over money, it’s the principle of the thing.” But Paul is truly subversive here; he calls on us to allow ourselves to be wronged and cheated rather than turning to secular courts to resolve our disputes — particularly our disputes with fellow Christians.

Why not rather be wronged? Why not rather be cheated? That’s the question I ask equally to both sides in the property dispute between the church and its traditionalist rebels. It’s the question I would pose to Jon Bruno, and to the vestries of the three renegade parishes. I would urge the rebels to abandon their property rather than sue to keep it; I would urge my friend Jon to let the dissenters take that same property rather than sue to get it back. If both sides act with glorious generosity, who knows what good might come of it?

Some more thoughts on All Saints, youth ministry, and making choices at the crossroads

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Another year of youth ministry at All Saints Pasadena came to a close this past weekend. Another group of seniors heads off to college. Once again, I’m awed by how fast “my kids” grow up. Four short years ago, they were beginning ninth-graders, wriggling and squirming in hyperactivity and anxiety and awkwardness. Today, they are (mostly) legal adults, increasingly poised, increasingly confident, increasingly compassionate and empathetic. Kids I towered over in 2003 now have blown right past me — and I’m not merely referring to height.

Two days ago, on Trinity Sunday, we had our annual “youth service.” The teens serve communion bread and wine, the teen choir handles the music, and two teens help design the sermon. One young woman who preached on Sunday has been dear to me for many years. She spoke of how she’d been a member of our church since the womb, of how she’d grown up safe and loved in this large, unruly, vibrant community.

She spoke of how she’d gone through our Seekers confirmation program (which I co-led from 2001 until this year) as an agnostic who flirted with atheism. As she put it, she got confirmed at the end of her frosh year in order to honor the eight-month process of Seekers, not out of any newfound certainty in her faith. Interestingly, she reported from the pulpit on Sunday that she has — at last — begun to experience a sudden openness to God. After years and years of living by the All Saints creed of the “gospel of social justice”, the creed that suggests that “Jesus was a heckuva nice guy and an important advocate for change”, she’s begun to find a more evangelical faith. She found it through her school’s gospel choir, and in the rhythm and emotion of gospel, she’s opened herself up to the possibility that Jesus was and is more than a human role model.

It was a brave thing to say from the All Saints pulpit. It contained both praise and a rebuke for All Saints. This flagship church of American Anglican liberalism is very, very good at encouraging individual exploration. We are very good at raising awareness of suffering in the broader world. We are very, very good at teaching young people how to ask the right theological questions. We are very, very good at instilling suspicion of any person or institution who cllaims to have The One True Answer. We are, most of the time, pretty good at loving kids “where they’re at” instead of where we think they should be.

But we liberal Episcopalians are often not so good at helping kids to come to certainties. Too often, when a young person in pain asks “where is God when I need Him?”, the institutional response is to say “Ah, my child, that’s an excellent question, one asked by many people over the centuries. We invite you to pray and reflect on God in His Mystery and His Apparent Absence, and know that we support you as you wrestle with the Great Dilemma of Faith.” We’re really good, we Episcopalians, at encouraging a process of discernment. (Heck, is there any word we love more than “process”?) We revel in “acknowledging dichotomies” and “appreciating uncertainty” and “holding apparent contradictions in simultaneous tension”. This is great, heady stuff, but it isn’t really helpful to a teen wrestling with the suicide of a friend, an eating disorder, the decision to terminate a pregnancy, their parents’ divorce.

What I try to do in my youth ministry — and what I see at least a few folks trying to do as well — is fuse an evangelical passion for Jesus as Savior and Best of Friends with an appreciation for theological pluralism. In other words, Jesus may not the be the Only Way, but to live in relationship with Him is certainly One Way, and I am unashamed to proclaim that for me, He has turned out to be the Best Way. It’s healthy and right and good to ackonwledge a multiplicity of equally wonderful choices, but at some point (particularly in a time of great existential crisis) it’s helpful to make one choice.

We all know Frost’s poem about the road less traveled. Too often among my fellow liberal Anglicans, I sense a real delight in remaining permanently stuck at the crossroads. One of the penchants I really dislike among some of my friends is the tendency to see the refusal to make any theological commitments as evidence of great wisdom. Some elevate “analysis paralysis” to the level of a high virtue. That’s fine for adults, but it’s not helpful for most teenagers, who, despite their natural suspicion towards authority, really need at least some certainties, even if the primary certainty that a good youth leader can provide is that they are loved.

When you’re a child, you take the path your parents tell you to take. When you’re a teen, it is right and good to become aware of options, of choices — and the church ought to point out that other choices exist. But after we acknowledge that there are other paths, perhaps just as worthy and good as ours (the ocean refuses no river, after all), we need to say definitively: this is our path. This is our way. And we will walk this path with you.

Tearing up

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There are a few hymns that are guaranteed to make me cry, every time. The spirituals like “Oh, Freedom” tend to do it. “Great is thy Faithfulness” can do it, depending on the orchestration (it can soar, or be very tendentious.) “Guide me, oh thou Great Jehovah” is great, and makes me think of Welsh rugby. “Lift Every Voice and Sing” frequently makes me a bit teary. But for some reason, I always come undone when we sing “St. Patrick’s Breastplate.” The tune is murderously hard (makes “Lift Every Voice” seem easy), but cripes, it just flattens me. And it flattened me today.

A misunderstanding about youth ministry, boys, and the meaning of “work”: a response to Toy Soldier

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I often refer to what I do, professionally and avocationally, as my “work.” I talk about “youth work” and “pro-feminist work” and “men’s work”. I had thought that everyone would understand that what I meant was clear, but a recent comment by Toy Soldier below my “Sheer desecrated hurt and anger” post makes it obvious that I need to be more explicit.

I wrote:

Real men’s work is about reaching young men where they are. Not just the ones who are obviously willing to be reached, either. Real men’s work — especially in school settings — is about initiating relationship with the shy, the bookish, the brooding and the hostile. It is frustrating, difficult, painful, and very tiring work. It is also joyous, especially when the breakthroughs happen. I’ve been working to do this for many years now, with a wide variety of young men. And it may be the most important thing I do.

Toy Soldier replied:

If one considers it work to aid a young man in need then one has already missed the point. Speaking as a “brooding” young man from Cho’s generation, I think the above attitude is one of the many reasons why Cho’s hurt and anger remained suppressed. As John mentioned above, one must approach helping young men with the intent to actually help them because it is the right thing to do for them. It requires respect, which the above–no offense–selfish, self-serving attitude completely lacks.

Whoa, cowboy. I’ll ignore the “selfish and self-serving” bit and focus instead on the misunderstanding of what I mean by “work.”

Sometimes, it’s fairly obvious that (at least on my mother’s side) I am descended from a lot of Scots-Irish Calvinists and North German Lutherans. The “Protestant work ethic”, stripped of its theological nuances, is one of my family’s secular religions (the other being good manners). Somehow, early on in life, I picked up the idea that there was no greater sin than idleness. Sin was, I believed and still often do believe, more about what you didn’t do than what you did. From my cousins, I picked up a “work hard, play hard” ethos. As long as I was doing the former, I was allowed great (perhaps too much) latitude for the latter. Getting straight As or making money weren’t vitally important, mind you — but having focus and goals were.

So I end up talking about almost everything as “work.” I’ll be the first to say that my marriage is blissful. It is also challenging work. Indeed, if my marriage wasn’t sometimes a hell of a lot of work, I’d figure that there was something amiss. If I’m too comfortable, I’m stagnating; the only way to fight decay is to keep in constant motion, in near-constant effort. My teaching is work. I am good at what I do, I think, but I know I could be better. I could be kinder, more sympathetic, even more passionate. Teaching is joy — teaching is hard work.

I “work out” every day. I do it for the thrill of the endorphin rush to which I am most definitely addicted, but I also do it because I like working at physical things. I like pushing up mountain trails and doing ever-more difficult positions in Pilates. Is there an element of playfulness, of creativity, of fun in all of this “working” out? Of course there is. But is it also mental and physical work? Abso-flippin’-lutely.

And my youth ministry is also “work.” I work at being a better, kinder, more intuitive mentor to girls and boys. I work at new ways to reach the kids who are toughest to reach. Is it often exhilarating and fulfilling? Sure. But it is also often tiring and disheartening. If I only did youth ministry in order to be adored, to be wanted, and to be validated, I’d be a piss-poor volunteer. If I only did youth ministry with the kids whom it is easy to reach, I’d be a fraud and a coward. Every danged week, I have to push myself out of my comfort zone to try and connect with the sullen, the angry, the hurting, the defensive. I have to be willing to have my initial efforts at connection rebuffed, knowing that building trust with a wounded, alienated kid takes a long time and is frequently hard work.

Toy Soldier — and some other men’s rights activists — think that pro-feminist men have only one motive to work with boys: we want to make sure that they don’t hurt women. The implication, and it’s one that I hear often, is that men like me don’t really like or care for other men or boys. Yet because as pro-feminists we see the colossal harm men and boys inflict on women and girls, we apparently consider it our distasteful duty to reach out to our little brothers in the hopes of molding them into respectful egalitarians like ourselves. According to this theory, men like me have no interest in working with boys as boys, only in working to “defuse” their toxic masculinity. It’s a cute theory, but it’s simply not true.

I work with girls, and I work with boys. Ask anyone who has seen me do youth ministry: my time is evenly divided with all of “my kids”, and my joy in their growth and my concern at their setbacks is equal, whether they are male or female. I do youth work because I want these teens to grow up into empowered, socially responsible, authentically happy human beings who delight in their own createdness and who feel a strong desire to help heal the world. I want them to do justice and love mercy. I want them to know that they are loved and adored no matter what they do or who they do it with. And I am willing to do a hell of a lot of work to help get them there. And make no mistake, it is frequently very hard work.

There’s a lot of work to be done, people! The earth needs savin’, the animals need protectin’, the poor need housin’, the naked need clothin’, the rivers need cleanin’, the kids need lovin’. We need God’s help to get all this done, but we are His co-workers, His commissioned agents, His proxies. There’s too much pain in the world for us to be self-indulgent or lazy for too long. Let’s get crackin’.