What Kids Believe

“I believe in one God, the Father almighty, maker of heaven and earth. . .” Many of you recognize the words. If you were raised Catholic, I imagine you’re sitting there reciting the rest of this ancient statement of faith in your head (and perhaps feeling at least a little self-satisfied about it). This is the Nicene Creed, the standard profession of faith for the Church (both Protestant and Catholic), and the hallmark of Christian orthodoxy since the 4^th century. This is what we, as Christians, believe.

But what exactly do kids believe today? What do they believe about God, Jesus, the Church and heaven?  Many kids would acknowledge the existence of God and their belief in Jesus but listen closely and you’ll get the creeping notion that we’re on two very different pages here. So what do kids really believe? What’s the “creed” that most kids, even good Christian kids, subscribe to today?

It’s called Moralistic, Therapeutic Deism[1] and the following, written brilliantly by my dear friend and Catholic brother, Andre Lesperance, hits the nail right on the head:[2]

A Creed for Moralistic, Therapeutic Deism

I believe in one God, the real but distant maker of heaven and earth, of all things visible, and possibly some invisible things (though any talk of invisible things is futile because science can’t prove their existence).

I believe in the historical existence of Jesus of Nazareth, one of many enlightened gurus of spirituality who basically taught what other great spiritual leaders throughout history have taught.

Through him all things are loved, liked, and accepted unconditionally.

For us and for our comfort, he came from Nazareth and lived well, but does not expect people after him to live quite as well; lowering the bar for the rest of humanity because he knows they’re obviously imperfect, he wants us to live comfortable and fun lives, not explicitly hurting other people we see on a daily basis, and avoiding big sins like murder and rape.

He was crucified under Pontius Pilate to inspire empathy for his ideals of niceness; he suffered death and was buried, but the ideas he stood for did not die with him. Those ideas “rose again” and reign now with Jesus' soul in heaven, which is a far-off Kingdom we enter only upon dying.

He will not come again and will not judge, because he told us that judging is bad, and he is not a hypocrite.

I believe in the Holy Spirit, the vague sense that God unconditionally approves of everything I do and makes no demands on me (as long I’m usually nice and never a murderer), which makes me feel good about myself.

I believe in the existence of many, unholy churches. It would be arrogant to discuss whether any of them have more or less accurate pictures of the truth, since all this spiritual stuff is made up of unverifiable opinions anyway.

I confess one baptism for the cute baby ritual that it is, reminding us that “sin” is a pretty outdated concept.

And I look forward to being in my personal happy place for eternity. Amen.

*To compare this to the standard profession of faith honored by Protestants and Catholics throughout the centuries, the Nicene Creed, go to: http://www.usccb.org/beliefs-and-teachings/what-we-believe/index.cfm

---

[1] The term “moralistic, therapeutic deism” was first introduced in 2005 by noted sociologist, Christian Smith, a practicing Catholic who currently teaches at the University of Notre Dame.

[2] Please note this is NOT what Andre believes but this is what he has come to understand, through his extensive experience with young people, as the standard set of beliefs held by adolescents today.

The Eucharist: A Sign of Unity and Division

The following post was written by my dear friend and theological interlocutor, Andre Lesperance[1]:

Early in the fall semester each year I ask my new crop of students what they would do if they knew they only had 24 hours to live.  This happens to be quite the effective icebreaker.  The question, if taken seriously, is a window into our most important values, desires, fears and hopes.

The question also sets up one of our first units of study.  Jesus so happens to be someone who knew his death was imminent.  What did he do in his last hours?  How did he choose to spend his time?

The answer, according to the four Gospels, is that he hosted a dinner with his closest friends.  Yet the goal of this dinner was not merely to cling to the past or relish their few remaining moments together.  Jesus was laying out a plan for the road ahead.  He “took bread, and after he had given thanks, broke it and said, “This is my body that is for you. Do this in remembrance of me.”[2]  After the death and resurrection of Jesus, the early Christian community would experience how the presence of the risen Christ “was made known to them in the breaking of the bread.”[3] 

It is unfortunate that the very ritual given by Jesus in his last hours to foster unity and strength for mission among his followers has been the subject of countless debates and divisions.  This is not to deny the real and important theological issues at stake, of course. Such heated debates at least testify to the importance of Jesus’ words and actions, as his followers struggle to understand them as best they can.

Yet aren’t the times ripe for building bridges once again where reformation-era debates have left gaping holes and wounded hearts?

At a lived pastoral level, we could start bridge building by suspending our initial assumptions about the other’s theology of the bread and the wine. As a Catholic, I know that those in my own tradition can often be guilty of such presumption—as I have been at times.  Since Catholicism most boldly asserts the real presence of Jesus in the Eucharist, we can all too easily assume every other church’s belief to be merely a symbolic remembering of the past.

On the other hand, perhaps Protestants can all too easily dismiss the Catholic view of the Eucharist as superstitious, divorced from the fundamentals of a heart surrendered to God.  And yet, how many Catholics corroborate this impression by their silent anti-witness of a life untransformed by Jesus, while remaining faithful—even adamant—in their adherence to weekly communion?  Indeed, it would seem that for many of us Catholics, the words of Jesus to Philip would equally apply to ourselves: “Have I been with you for so long a time and you still do not know me?” (John 14:9).

While I stand in full communion with the Catholic Church and happily assent to all of its teachings on the Eucharist, I find it crucial to approach with reverence and often silence the various Protestant attitudes toward the bread and the wine.  As a starting point for doing so, as well as for navigating some of the tensions between liberals and conservatives within Catholicism, I find the following excerpt from Fr. Ronald Rolheiser immensely helpful.  It captures some of the magnitude of this beautiful mystery that we cannot reduce to exclusive territorial skirmishes. Rolheiser reflects,

There are lots of views on the Eucharist:

·      For some it is a meal, for others it is a sacrifice

·      For some it is a ritual act, sacred and set apart, for others it is a community gathering, the more mess and kids there the better.

·      For some it is a deep personal prayer, for others it is a communal worship for the world.

·      For some its very essence is a coming together, a communion, of those united in a single denominational faith, while for others part of its essence is its reaching out, its innate imperative to wash the feet of those who are different from ourselves.

·      For some it is a celebration of sorrow, a making present of Christ’s suffering and thus the place where we can break down, for others it is the place to celebrate joy and sing alleluia.

·      For some it is a ritual remembrance, a making present of the historical events of Jesus’ dying, rising, ascending, and sending the Holy Spirit, for others it is a celebration of God’s presence with us today.

·      For some it is a celebration of the Last Supper, something to be done less frequently, for others it is God’s daily feeding of his people with a new manna, Christ’s body, and is something to be done every day.

·      For some it is a celebration of reconciliation, a ritual that forgives and unites, for others unity and reconciliation are pre-conditions for its proper celebration…

·      For some it is understood to make present the real, physical body of Christ, for others it is understood to make Christ present in a real but spiritual way.

·      Some call it the Lord’s Supper, others call it the Eucharist, others call it the Mass.

Who’s right? In truth, the Eucharist is all of these things, and more. It is like a finely-cut diamond twirling in the sun, every turn giving off a different sparkle. It is multivalent, carrying different layers of meaning, some of them in paradoxical tension with others…

There is no adequate explanation of the Eucharist for the same reason that, in the end, there is no adequate explanation for love, for embrace, and for the reception of life and spirit through touch. Certain realities take us beyond language because that is their very purpose. They do what words cannot do. They also are beyond what we can neatly nail down in our understanding.

And that is true of the Eucharist. Any attempt to nail down its full meaning will forever come up short because it will always eventually get up and walk away with the nail![4]

What does the bread and the wine mean to you?

---

[1] Andre Lesperance teaches theology at Marquette University High School in Milwaukee, Wisconsin where he lives with his wife, Jackie, and three beautiful children.

[2] 1 Cor 11:24

[3] Luke 24:35

[4] Ronald Rolheiser, “The Many Faces of the Eucharist,” accessed on June 10, 2013 at http://www.ronrolheiser.com/columnarchive/?id=410