Thoughts on the relationship of parochial schools and catholic schools.

 Friends

    Peace be with you.

    I've spent a fair amount of time in my life reflecting on the importance of Catholic schools and whether they are important in today's world. At points, I must admit, that I have come to the conclusion that Catholic schools are an expense the parish is forced to subsidize for a majority of people who have a tangential (at best) relationship to it. Many people send their kids to Catholic schools but do not attend Sunday Mass or have much to do with the Catholic church in general. The majority of Catholic school students who graduate from Catholic schools do not attend or participate in the Catholic Church after graduation. There are other factors, too many to list really, that made me question why we spend so much time and energy keeping a school system afloat that seems doomed to failure. 

    But the more I reflect upon it, the more I have been forced to change my mind. Fundamentally, I think there should be schools where people who do not want their children to learn about religion can send their kids, which I think is one of the benefits of the public school system. However, I also believe that parents who want their kids to learn in an environment that integrates religion into learning, in this case Catholic Christianity, should be able to send their kids to a parochial school. And it is to a religion's advantage to want to teach children because they CAN integrate the spiritual life within each class. My experience in a public school was that religion could only be mentioned derogatorily. When a history teacher mentioned the crusades, religion was at fault. When a science teacher talked about a heliocentric vision of the universe, it was always juxtaposed against the church's more fundamentalist geocentric model and the Aristotle trial would inevitably be brought up. If a literature teacher were to assign the Scarlet Letter, for instance, religion would be brought up as a source of paranoia and bias. There was no context involved in these discussions, no offering the church's or religion's point of view. It seemed the point was to quickly denigrate religion and then move on. 

    Religious schools can fill in the gaps that public schools are forced to leave out. We can talk about how Copernicus, a Catholic monk, was actually the first to propose a model of the universe where the sun was at the center and that the issue with Galileo had as much to do with struggling to deal with the literalism of Martin Luther and Ulrich Zwingli as anything else. We can say that Pope John Paul II has apologized for the whole affair and said it marks an ugly time for the church and we can show how, consistently, Catholic schools are on the forefront of science and scientific discovery. We can talk about the complexities of the crusades and how it as much had to do with the growth and strengthening of Islam and talk about how Christianity used to be a stronghold in North Africa but was largely wiped out by Islamic violence. We can talk about the Battle of Lepanto and show how Christianity in Europe had to defend itself against this same group of violent Islamists. And, we can talk about the theology of the Puritans and show where it came from and what parts of the Bible is exploited to come up with it's worldview. We can look into the history of Christianity and see connections between it and previous groups in a way that the public school simply cannot out of fear of being seen as partisan. 

    This is not meant to say that a parochial school should be entirely opposed to a public school or that one is inherently better than the other. Actually, I think balancing cooperation with some charitable competitiveness is the best relationship possible. If one school needs the help of the other, I think it is in both school's best interests to offer it. If they can collaborate on some athletics that neither school seems to be able to field, that is best for the kids in both schools. What I find unhelpful is when one school, either the public or the parochial, seems to make it a goal to dominate the other. Most of the time it is the larger public school dictating to the smaller Catholic school what classes or sports or extracurricular activities it is willing to share. I do know of one situation, however, where a Catholic school made sure a public school was not built in their town out of fear that they would lose kids to it. And, more recently, there have been allegations of public money being given to private schools to the detriment of the public schools. But that is a separate column for someone with more expertise than I. I also don't find it helpful for the two schools to essentially disown each other and refuse to collaborate at all. That sets the students, staff, and administration against one another and creates and fuels hostility between the schools. 

    So, what does a relationship balancing cooperation with some charitable competitiveness look like if not the above? I'd suggest that the schools cooperate when they can and seek to support one another when they can't. If one of the schools has a class or sport or extracurricular activity that they're willing to share, they should inform and welcome the other school to send some students. And if one school needs help in academics or extracurricular activities, they should inform the other school and ask for their help. Encouraging collaboration among teachers and coaches for students of both schools to learn together when they can would benefit the schools and the entire community. When there are competitions, strongly encourage students and fans to cheer for each other. Make sure your coaches and players know that this is a different type of game, closer to a brother playing a brother where the point cannot be to humiliate or alienate because you're going to have to live together afterwards. Perhaps even be willing to remove players, parents, or students who seem more intent on turning it into a grudge match than a charitable competition. 

    In the end, I think it has to be a relationship built on mutual respect. There are going to be subjects and activities that are proper to each school that the other simply won't be able to participate in. But where cooperation is possible, it not only helps to foster good will between the students but between their parents and the whole community in general. 

6EB The Holy Spirit is at work even before the ministers of the church.

 Friends

Peace be with you. 

In a previous assignment, one of my parishes had a sizable community of people who only spoke Spanish. Thankfully, my Associate Pastor, Fr. Don Hertges, could celebrate the Mass for them once a month and take care of ministering to them. However, after a year, Fr. Hertges was assigned to Maquoketa, Preston, and Otter Creek and Fr. Paul Lippstock took his place. Unfortunately, Fr. Paul didn’t speak Spanish. I took one semester of Spanish in Seminary almost 10 years before and had basically not used those skills since so I met with a member of the community named Francisco and told him we really don’t have a Spanish speaking priest right now. He understood and, for a year and a half, there were no Spanish liturgies. After a year and a half, Francisco, approached me and asked if I would consider celebrating a Quincenera Mass in Spanish for one of the girls who had turned 15. I knew this was an important celebration for this community so I told him I would try but to please tell the people that my Spanish pronunciation is very poor. I had heard of other cultures who would shame people who spoke their language poorly so I at least wanted people to be forewarned. Thankfully, my DRE had no such fear. She worked with Francisco to prepare music for the day and got a reader and helped the girl to write petitions and write a statement she read at the end of Mass about what it meant for her to turn 15. In the end, there were 150 people present, some of whom I had seen at English Masses but most who hadn’t been to Mass since Fr. Hertges left. Afterwards, they invited me to a celebration and asked if we could restart the Masses in Spanish. I told them that, as long as they would put up with my poor Spanish pronunciation, I would gladly celebrate a Mass once-a-month for them. In the next two and a half years, I baptized children, celebrated a wedding, did a few more quinceaneras, gave out First Communions, and grew to love the community that I helped to re-form there. But, I’ll admit there were times when someone was speaking Spanish to me asking a question or making a request and I had to rely on my friend Francisco to translate what they were saying. I valued his abilities but I also felt out of place and kind of intimidated. These people had a skill I didn’t have, the ability to speak Spanish fluently, and it was intimidating. Their customs were different than my customs. I had to get past my fear of participating in another culture as much as any fear of language differences that I had.

I bring up that experience in light of what happened in the first reading for today. St. Peter is invited to a person’s house who’s named Cornelius. Cornelius is living in a Gentile city and he and his whole family are all gentiles. But, for some reason, Cornelius is called by the Holy Spirit to invite St. Peter into his house to teach him about Jesus. Now, the first thing that happens probably seems kind of strange to us: they kneel down to worship St. Peter. But, remember that for these Roman Gentiles, there were many many gods and the idea of a god manifesting himself as a human was not unusual. Their Caesar, for instance, would have declared himself a god. I couldn’t help but think of how embarrassed I used to get when an elderly Latina woman would come up to me and kiss my hands as a sign of respect when she would greet me. A priest’s hands are anointed when he is ordained because they hold the host as it is transubstantiated into the Body, Blood, Soul, and Divinity of Jesus. Plus, we anoint people with our hands and baptize people with our hands. A priest’s hands are intended to be holy. There was a side to me that wanted to tell these abuelitas, these holy grandmas, what St. Peter said about not worshipping me. But it was a little different, or at least I came to see it that way. They were recognizing the calling my hands represented and the person who did the calling of those hands to service, Jesus Christ, not confusing me with him. I saw it as much a challenge to live up to the holy ordering my hands were called to do as anything else. But, St. Peter’s situation is different. He has to explain who Jesus is to a culture that didn’t see God as entirely transcendent, entirely different, from human beings. This was a whole different culture. He felt he had to make it clear that he was just like them, just a human being not a god. But, in this encounter, you can hear St. Peter realize that God was already working in this community, helping them to understand who God was and how he already loved them even before they loved him or knew him. Still, they needed a St. Peter to teach them the particulars of who Jesus really was and to make sure they were included as believers, not seen as second-class citizens since they didn’t follow the Old Testament ritual laws. They needed to be told that “God shows no partialities”, that they were welcomed. 

    

I feel that Pope Francis has really taken up this message of encounter and welcome seriously. I can see events like Vatican II, Pope John Paul II’s apostolic visits to various countries, and Pope Benedict’s encounter with the Muslim world helping to enspire him but I think Pope Francis has pushed things further than his predecessors, much to the chagrin of those who feel like the church should militantly close its ranks to any culture not historically European. But Pope Francis, like St. Peter in the first reading, calls us to be people of inclusion and reconciliation. He wants sinners to experience forgiveness, not wallow in the filth of their own sin. But he also knows that sometimes that means having to encounter cultures and situations that aren’t sinful but are just...different than our own. 

    

Who is God calling us to reach out to that we’re intimated by because they are different and how can we get over that fear to help them feel included?    Peace be with you. 

    

In a previous assignment, one of my parishes had a sizable community of people who only spoke Spanish. Thankfully, my Associate Pastor, Fr. Don Hertges, could celebrate the Mass for them once a month and take care of ministering to them. However, after a year, Fr. Hertges was assigned to Maquoketa, Preston, and Otter Creek and Fr. Paul Lippstock took his place. Unfortunately, Fr. Paul didn’t speak Spanish. I took one semester of Spanish in Seminary almost 10 years before and had basically not used those skills since so I met with a member of the community named Francisco and told him we really don’t have a Spanish speaking priest right now. He understood and, for a year and a half, there were no Spanish liturgies. After a year and a half, Francisco, approached me and asked if I would consider celebrating a Quincenera Mass in Spanish for one of the girls who had turned 15. I knew this was an important celebration for this community so I told him I would try but to please tell the people that my Spanish pronunciation is very poor. I had heard of other cultures who would shame people who spoke their language poorly so I at least wanted people to be forewarned. Thankfully, my DRE had no such fear. She worked with Francisco to prepare music for the day and got a reader and helped the girl to write petitions and write a statement she read at the end of Mass about what it meant for her to turn 15. In the end, there were 150 people present, some of whom I had seen at English Masses but most who hadn’t been to Mass since Fr. Hertges left. Afterwards, they invited me to a celebration and asked if we could restart the Masses in Spanish. I told them that, as long as they would put up with my poor Spanish pronunciation, I would gladly celebrate a Mass once-a-month for them. In the next two and a half years, I baptized children, celebrated a wedding, did a few more quinceaneras, gave out First Communions, and grew to love the community that I helped to re-form there. But, I’ll admit there were times when someone was speaking Spanish to me asking a question or making a request and I had to rely on my friend Francisco to translate what they were saying. I valued his abilities but I also felt out of place and kind of intimidated. These people had a skill I didn’t have, the ability to speak Spanish fluently, and it was intimidating. Their customs were different than my customs. I had to get past my fear of participating in another culture as much as any fear of language differences that I had.

    

I bring up that experience in light of what happened in the first reading for today. St. Peter is invited to a person’s house who’s named Cornelius. Cornelius is living in a Gentile city and he and his whole family are all gentiles. But, for some reason, Cornelius is called by the Holy Spirit to invite St. Peter into his house to teach him about Jesus. Now, the first thing that happens probably seems kind of strange to us: they kneel down to worship St. Peter. But, remember that for these Roman Gentiles, there were many many gods and the idea of a god manifesting himself as a human was not unusual. Their Caesar, for instance, would have declared himself a god. I couldn’t help but think of how embarrassed I used to get when an elderly Latina woman would come up to me and kiss my hands as a sign of respect when she would greet me. A priest’s hands are anointed when he is ordained because they hold the host as it is transubstantiated into the Body, Blood, Soul, and Divinity of Jesus. Plus, we anoint people with our hands and baptize people with our hands. A priest’s hands are intended to be holy. There was a side to me that wanted to tell these abuelitas, these holy grandmas, what St. Peter said about not worshipping me. But it was a little different, or at least I came to see it that way. They were recognizing the calling my hands represented and the person who did the calling of those hands to service, Jesus Christ, not confusing me with him. I saw it as much a challenge to live up to the holy ordering my hands were called to do as anything else. But, St. Peter’s situation is different. He has to explain who Jesus is to a culture that didn’t see God as entirely transcendent, entirely different, from human beings. This was a whole different culture. He felt he had to make it clear that he was just like them, just a human being not a god. But, in this encounter, you can hear St. Peter realize that God was already working in this community, helping them to understand who God was and how he already loved them even before they loved him or knew him. Still, they needed a St. Peter to teach them the particulars of who Jesus really was and to make sure they were included as believers, not seen as second-class citizens since they didn’t follow the Old Testament ritual laws. They needed to be told that “God shows no partialities”, that they were welcomed. 

    

I feel that Pope Francis has really taken up this message of encounter and welcome seriously. I can see events like Vatican II, Pope John Paul II’s apostolic visits to various countries, and Pope Benedict’s encounter with the Muslim world helping to enspire him but I think Pope Francis has pushed things further than his predecessors, much to the chagrin of those who feel like the church should militantly close its ranks to any culture not historically European. But Pope Francis, like St. Peter in the first reading, calls us to be people of inclusion and reconciliation. He wants sinners to experience forgiveness, not wallow in the filth of their own sin. But he also knows that sometimes that means having to encounter cultures and situations that aren’t sinful but are just...different than our own. 

    

Who is God calling us to reach out to that we’re intimated by because they are different and how can we get over that fear to help them feel included?