Church and State

Catholic Social Teaching is called the best kept secret of the Catholic Church. It makes sense; think about how often we hear that being Catholic means kneeling nicely at Sunday Mass and praying the Rosary daily. Then think about how often we hear that being Catholic means fighting for the rights of workers, joining the struggle to empower disadvantaged communities, or creating safe havens for pre- or newborn babies? Sure, every now and then we get that image, mostly along with the message that these people are the extremists, sometimes even the loons, not your regular, run-of-the-mill variety of Catholic.

What if it's the other way around? What if those who advocate CST live exactly as a true Catholic should live, and the rest of us are "Catholic Lite" : same surface taste, but no substance underneath?

One of the sad results of our negligence of CST expresses itself in the political realm. Our negligence allows political parties and actors to co-opt passion for justice and tricks people into believing that justice solutions reside in a specific party, politician, or piece of legislation. The belief that we need just political action forms a core part of CST, but so does the idea that political action will not fix the world without the action and support of the faithful outside the political realm.

This dichotomy of political and religious solutions poses a fascinating question in a country that obsesses over the "separation of church and state," which we translate into the "restriction of religious actions and values to the church building and maybe home life." Not quite what our Founders had in mind when they wrote the First Amendment.

The Post-Dispatch today had an article that focused on the breaking down of this false wall with a "church-state disaster relief partnership." Tim Townsend, who wrote the article, explained Missouri's system that facilitates the state government and religious groups to work together at providing disaster aid. Using Katrina as an example of where the government failed and religious groups pulled through, he describes how this cooperation happens at a national level as well. Reading the article brought back memories of Sociology of Religion and Latino/a Migration, when we discussed religious-based justice movements. (We used Pierrette Hondagneu-Sotelo's God's Heart Has No Borders, a great book.)

Townsend does not discuss any Catholic groups, however. (Hondagneu-Sotelo does. Apparently on a small scale, you find Catholic justice groups all over the place.) Why are Catholic groups not discussed? I can think of a few reasons, and I don't know which is the case. First, they could simply fly under his notice, for a variety of reasons. Second, Townsend could not like Catholic groups. Or, third, they simply are not there, as part of the governmental partnership, or at all. Each of these reasons would have very different implications as to what we need to change to receive the notice that these Baptist and Methodist groups received.

Of course, this begs the question : Do we want that notice? I do. Not for the praise that Townsend rightly gives religious-based groups, but instead for the image change. If we make CST part of the image of a Catholic, maybe we can motivate ourselves to live up to that image and we can become the change in the world.

The Inside of Your Head

I like my new schedule and the chances I have now to work with small groups of students. I hope it will help me get into their heads some. The more time I spend with these kids, the more I see them as individual human beings (duh) and the more I realize that I just don't understand how their minds work.

Some examples:

Yesterday we had a huge thunderstorm while the 7th grade boys were working social studies in the library with me. The first crack of thunder did not resemble thunder -- it sounded like something had exploded outside the building. I actually didn't realize it was thunder at first. I thought someone had crashed their car outside the school. I expected the sirens that I heard soon after to stop at the school. But I kept me seat and my head and kept working.

The boys, however, were out of their seats in seconds. "School's over!" they said, not to cause trouble or be smart, but simply because that was their conclusion, by their use of logic. It took a moment to convince them that yes, we did have to stay in school.

I gave some 6th grade boys a test today. Their history teacher told me that I could help them figure out the answers, just don't actually tell them the answers. I let them get started, and they thought long and hard about the matching. And put down answers resembling a "priest-king" is a "group of territories" and an "empire" is a "type of writing." After thinking. Yet, the moment I pointed to "priest-king" and said, "What type of answer should this have? Is it a person, a place, or a thing?" they could answer "political and religious leader."

Another question read, "Why was the invention of the sailboat helpful?" or something along those lines. The answer their teacher wanted was that they used wind power over muscle power. I tried to help: "What would they have used before sailboats?" "Well, like, a canoe or something." "Then what's the difference between a sailboat and a canoe?" "Well, it can carry food."

What?! I really want to know what goes on in their heads, because I just don't understand. I have the feeling that if I understand the insides of their heads, I will be able to reach them better.

Which is the ultimate point of my third observation about the ways their minds work. When they are out of the classroom at break, they hit the uneven blacktop and start games of basketball, football, and volleyball in and around jump rope, tag, and races. Their attitudes completely change. I realize that this might happen with a lot of people, but I was the same on the water (racing) and in the classroom: intense, goal-driven, optimistic, and focused. They have such good team work, attitude, focus, and skill in sports that I want to figure out where it comes from and how it works so that I can channel it into the classroom.

A Step in the Right Direction?

In my futile attempt to keep up with current events, I stumbled across this article in the Washington Post. It discusses the idea of allowing Navy women onto submarines. The first time I discovered that women could not go to the vast depths of the seas on Naval submarines, it just didn't make sense. In subsequent thoughts and conversations, I have become less shocked, but it still didn't make sense. I know that I go on about how sexism still lingers in our society, but the more blatant bits still surprise me.

In discussing this story with a friend, we had two different takes. On one hand, I found the comment that women represent a huge resources being neglected a step in the right direction. On the other hand, my friend pointed out that no one recognized the discrimination for what it is, so we've still got some ways to go.

Re-Start

After weeks of craziness and learning what does not work, we at the middle school have come up with a new schedule and a new way of doing things. In other words, we have invited chaos upon ourselves for a few weeks in hopes that it will solve greater chaos. So, I have become the 8th grade religion teacher, but stepped back from the language arts and reading classes. Instead, I get to hang out in the library all day! I am pseudo-librarian, plus I get small groups from the classes all day to help. In the afternoons, I go back to the reading classes, which are supposed to be small groups, but we need to hire more teaching assistants before that can happen. I miss the reading group I had in the old schedule though. They were a bright group of kids and we were just getting to the point where I understood them and they understood me. Plus, I liked having a part of the day where I worked specifically with the smart kids.

Today I started my time in the library. I cleared off the desk and set it up as mine own, commandeered a milk crate for filing, and began a check-out system. I spent time working through social studies questions with sixth graders. Have I written about poverty of education? If not, I will soon, because that is what I saw here.

I think my calling this year consists of slowly taking on the jobs to which my roommates aspire. First, I become an English teacher. Next, I take on the role of religion teacher. Not quite the same as campus minister, but it'll do in a pinch. Lastly, I have suddenly transformed into a librarian. I can't become them completely, though, because they all want to have babies (last I checked) and that one is not about to happen this year!

Pledge a Protestor

The 40 Days for Life campaign has started up, and, as I told Em today, being out there on the streets is addictive. So of course I am involved out here.

Unlike the small facilities in Virginia that I've encountered, the abortion provider here is Planned Parenthood. Before, we could tell when the abortionist was in, who went in for an abortion, when the abortions happened, who walked out after one. Here, the large building provides ample anonymity for clients.

The Planned Parenthood building also displays a sign with a slender, blonde, masked caricature of a female superhero, complete with the short skirt and high-heeled books, with the words "Defend the Truth: Pledge a Protester." It's their twisted campaign to make money off of peaceful people praying, who apparently, by standing on the grass with signs that read "Women Deserve Love Not Abortion" offer "intimidation and harassment" to patients and staff. The solution: give Planned Parenthood money so that they can publish the money and attempt to demoralize pro-lifers.

What they don't realize is that we have something more powerful than any amount of money they can raise. So while it makes me sick, it does not deter me. Us. Because as speakers pointed out yesterday at the MCC event, I am not making these changes. The Holy Spirit is. And through Him and through Christ, we are all connected. We are all one.

This oneness includes even the people pledging and posting the pledges, even the people who work inside Planned Parenthood. After the humanity and personhood of the pre-born, this is perhaps the most important lesson for our side to learn.

Side Note: As I stood by the road with a sign today, a man stopped at the stoplight by our corner took a picture on his phone! And I was staring right at him! Really?!

The Saint Game

I have some good stories and a few thoughts to share from this weekend, but this post comes first.

This weekend was the Annual Assembly of the Missouri Catholic Conference, so I was in Jefferson City, in their Capitol Building, listening to speakers on Catholic concerns in public policy. Though one couple critiqued agenda for not having enough on the pro-life cause, I loved the diversity of topics.

As Ana, Em, and I got back onto I-70, away from the land of fast-food and gas stations, Ana looked down at the fuel gauge. As soon as she opened her mouth to comment, Em and I remembered, still many miles from Jeff City, we had had a quarter tank on the way in. Apparently, we were now riding a hair above empty. And there were no exits, let alone gas stations, in sight.

We flew down the highway, until at last we reached an exit. There were no signs -- you know, the "Food," "Gas," and "Lodging" type ones, but we hoped for at least one gas station to serve the intersection of interstate and country highways. Off the exit ramp, there was nothing but a sign: Calwell, 3 miles. We were now on empty.

Banking on the fact that Calwell, however small, must have a gas station, we raced down some highway with a letter name. Ana comes from the country, so she took the curves swiftly enough that we could make the three miles in about three minutes. But in those three minutes, we passed through creepy fog, next to stopped cars, and old trucks sitting in empty fields. More than a little like the beginnings of a really scary movie.

We made it to Calwell -- there was a general store. And, lo and behold, a gas station: a two pump deal with no awning over them and no where to swipe a credit card. And the general store, at 7pm, was closed. Now nervous, we hit the road again, and three minutes later, found I-70.

As we kept our eyes peeled for another exit, this one with a gas sign, Em began: "Mary, pray for us. St. Vincent de Paul, pray for us... Who else?"

Ana threw in St. Louis de Merillac, and then I took off. For the record, there are a lot of saints out there, and it's not hard to keep naming them for five minutes as you swing up an exit ramp that has one sign, "Gas," and into the gas station where you discover that though the gas station is closed, they at least will still take credit cards.

That's when you get to stop listing saints and start thanking them.