Archive for the 'Youth ministry' Category

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

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’.

Fourteen Marthas, not one Mary: a retreat report and a long meditation on girls, pressure, parents, and people-pleasing

I’m in my office, just before 8:00 on a Monday morning. Daylight Savings Time has arrived early, as almost everyone knows, and I am happy. (Even if getting up this morning at five for my boxing session felt particularly challenging.)

I had a wonderful time once again with the All Saints confirmation class this weekend on our retreat in the San Bernardino mountains. (I’ve written about past retreats on this blog: here are the 2005 and 2006 reports.). I was a bit disappointed by the abnormally warm weather and the nearly complete absence of snow, despite the fact that we were up in the mountains three weeks earlier than usual.

Though in 2005 we had more boys than girls in our confirmation class, this year our gender ratio was wildly skewed. After a couple of cancellations, we ended up taking fourteen girls and one boy up to Big Bear for the weekend retreat. (The boy, a very outgoing and relaxed kid, was more than delighted at his unique status.) In our intimate and emotional discussions Friday night and Saturday, one clear pattern emerged in the stories these young women were telling about their lives.

After years and years of teaching confirmation classes, I’ve noticed that each class has a slightly different “feel.” The 2007 “Seekers” confirmation class is not merely notable for being overwhelmingly female; this year’s crop is also marked by an often frantic desire to live up to the expectations of the outside world. Never have I gone on retreat with so many young women who were so completely exhausted! I’m not talking about temporarily underslept; I’m talking about girls who are 14-16 years old whose daily schedules are as demanding as that of a young Japanese businessman trying to climb the ladder at Sony.

Never have the youth leaders had to work so hard to convince so many kids to take a weekend away! These girls weren’t worried about missing dances or parties. They were worried about missing speech tournaments, SAT prep classes, and biology homework. They were worried about not being able to exercise and stay fit for their various team sport commitments. Many begged to be allowed to bring some books to study from “in our free time.” (We have a fairly strict “no homework” policy; the kids know about this weekend six months in advance.) And the thought of spending forty-eight hours away from their elaborately programmed schedules and responsibilities was terrifying for many of them.

Before a retreat, I always joke with the other youth leaders about “packing plenty of Kleenex”. We expect a lot of tears as we go through our emotional, spirit-filled weekend. But rarely have we had as many sniffles and wet eyes as we did these past few days. On Friday night, as we “checked in” with our fourteen girls and one boy about their lives and their faith journey, it was as if a massive dam had suddenly broken. One after another, they broke down. Some were angry at themselves, others angry at God, many confessed feeling utterly overwhelmed by pressure and expectations. The most common phrase I heard all night was one I don’t always anticipate to be the most common: “I feel so guilty.” These girls had guilt and shame weighing them down. I could see it in the slump of their shoulders, in the puffiness of their eyes.

The specific pressures vary. We have one girl who’s a dancer, a very good one; she’s trying to get ready to audition for professional companies at the same time that she’s carrying a full load of advanced placement classes as a sophomore. Another girl is captain of her debate team and active in student government at her school. Her days begin at five and end at midnight. She does three to four hours of homework a night, tutors underprivileged kids, prepares for speech tournaments and is gearing up to run for class president for next year. She’s a tenth-grader, but her anxiety about not “getting into a good school” and “letting everyone down” is so palpable that when she tries to relax she ends up sitting and shaking rather like a wet chihuahua.

As a feminist and a Christian, the desperate “people-pleasing” of so many of these young women troubles me. Many of them acknowledge carrying the double burden familiar to so many modern women: these girls know that they are expected to live up to traditional feminine standards of behavior and looks, at least much of the time. (Three girls talked quietly about their struggles with disordered eating and body self-loathing.) But in addition to the cultural expectation to be bright-eyed, cheerful, virginal and pleasing, they also feel pressured to be intellectually, athletically, and professionally successful. They all volunteer (often as part of school-mandated community service). Their parents have told them all their lives that they can “be anything they want to be”, which sounds great — until the girls are forced to excel at virtually everything they do in every facet of their lives so as “not to miss out” on any opportunity to succeed. The superwomen complex is alive and well in girls so young that some were born after Bill Clinton became president! That breaks my heart.

As we wrapped up our first session Friday night, I pulled out the Bible. I read two sections. From Matthew, I read my beloved 10:37:

Anyone who loves his father or mother more than me is not worthy of me; anyone who loves his son or daughter more than me is not worthy of me.

Honestly, it’s often twice as hard to get young women, raised since birth to please and to perform, to grasp this than young men. We are so much more tolerant of male rebellion; we are more tolerant of young men who “take time to find themselves” or who “are going through a slacker phase.” And to put it more simply, more young men seem to have an easier time daring to disappoint their parents. (Of course, there are plenty of boys near collapse from trying to meet other’s expectations. But their numbers are fewer.)

What I wanted the girls to grasp from this passage is that a real relationship with Christ is one that comes unmediated by parents or peers. To live in Christ means to follow Him with the very likely expectation that His plan for your life is not the same as your parent’s hopes. That doesn’t mean that Jesus is an excuse for narcissistic rebellion. But it does mean that if you put pleasing others, especially your parents, ahead of discerning God’s unique plan for your life, then you have missed the point. I made it clear to “my kids”: Christ comes to set captives free, and sometimes the jailers are the very people who love you most.

After praying silently for quick inspiration, I felt called to read Luke 10:38-42:

As Jesus and his disciples were on their way, he came to a village where a woman named Martha opened her home to him. She had a sister called Mary, who sat at the Lord’s feet listening to what he said. But Martha was distracted by all the preparations that had to be made. She came to him and asked, “Lord, don’t you care that my sister has left me to do the work by myself? Tell her to help me!”

“Martha, Martha,” the Lord answered, “you are worried and upset about many things, but only one thing is needed. Mary has chosen what is better, and it will not be taken away from her.”

Earlier, as our fourteen girls shared, I had realized that I was sitting in a room filled to the rafters with Marthas, with nary a Mary to be found! Like Martha, they are “worried and upset about many things”. They don’t know how to rest; they are “distracted by all the preparations that (have) to be made.” These Marthas — my dear, beautiful, brave, overachieving, anxious, exhausted girls — live lives that are governed by an endless series of “to do lists”. They wake up with “have to’s” and go to bed with “ought to have’s” and spend their days thinking about their “shoulds” and “shouldn’ts.” But only one thing is needed, and that is to sit at the foot of God.

It says in Kings, “after the earthquake there was a fire, but the Lord was not in the fire. And after the fire came a gentle whisper.” The earthquakes and fires in these girls’ lives are all that they hear; they hear only noise, only storm and fury. As I said to them, that “gentle whisper” (what the KJV famously calls the “still small voice”) can’t be heard until you learn to press the mute button at your peers, at your coaches, at your teachers, at Facebook, at Youtube, at Jane Magazine, and yes, at your parents. Martha is too busy to hear the gentle whisper. She worries too much, fearing what will happen if she stops to rest, fearing who she’ll be if she stops her endless motion, her endless people-pleasing. Choosing “what is better” is about placing one’s own spiritual growth ahead of everything else. Choosing Mary’s part over Martha’s is to risk the wrath of some who love and care for you; it is to risk disappointing those who raised you and nurtured you. It is to risk having to confront your own fear of not doing enough. And if you want joy, if you want fulfillment, if you want rest, it’s what you absolutely gotta do.

Thanks to the remarkable success of several waves of American feminism, the girls I work with today have more opportunities than virtually any generation before them. Though they have to confront a misogynistic backlash that has taken root in many aspects of our dominant culture, they have the chance to achieve more and do more and enjoy more than their mothers and grandmothers. But we’ve made the terrible mistake of turning opportunity into obligation. We’ve sucked the joy right out of their over-programmed, over-monitored, over-achieving little lives. True feminism and true Christian faith are absolutely congruent in their mutual opposition to the idea that young women ought to live up to an ever-more demanding set of duties and commitments.

As a feminist and a Christian, I want to see “my girls” becoming more like Mary, less like Martha. And if that means that some of the boys need to go and spend a few minutes taking over Martha’s duties so she can take a break, then they damned well can step up and do it.

UPDATE: My dear mother, long a defender of Martha, writes me today to remind me that many traditions say that Martha ended up in Tarascon, France, where she may well have slain a dragon. It’s a happy thought.

16 girls, 3 boys: a note on the sex ratio in a confirmation class

As I mentioned yesterday, we had a terrific time with the All Saints kids during our fasting fund-raiser on Friday and Saturday. Another night for Hugo in his sleeping bag on the floor, surrounded by snoring and wheezing boys. (Here’s my dilemma: I find it much easier to sleep on retreats when I have both ear plugs and one of those little night shades to cover my eyes; I have a nice pair from a British Airways amenity kit. But is it safe, given what teens get up to, for the youth leaders to be unable to hear a darned thing? Should I always sleep with one ear open, as it were? I go back and forth on the matter.)

Our confirmation class this year has a very skewed sex ratio. We have 16 girls and 3 boys, which is the most lopsided it has been in my seven years of serving as an instructor and mentor for the confirmation program. On Saturday, I was chatting with a parent as we were finishing things up, and this parent (whose child was in a previous confirmation class) lamented “We really need more boys. I’m so worried that all the young men are missing.”

I’ve heard a lot of this public anxiety about “missing boys” this year. I’ve heard it nationally, as the mainstream media frets that bright and talented young women are somehow driving young men off of college campuses. And I’ve heard it at All Saints, where for any number of reasons, we have a very small number of boys in our 2007 “Seekers” confirmation class. (I am happy to say that in terms of overall numbers, the trend in the raw number of confirmands is going up in our parish.) In the past, we’ve always had a few more girls than boys, say with a 10-8 split in favor of the females. But never as stark as the 16-3 ratio we’ve got at the moment, a ratio that is particularly obvious when we divide the teens for overnight sleeping arrangements.

Let me be clear that I’d like to see more boys involved in our youth program. But I’m growing a bit frustrated with the hand-wringing over their absence. The three boys we do have this year are bright, sweet, fun lads; the girls we’ve got are equally wonderful. As always, once I get to know them well, I find myself starting to fall in love with the whole danged pack of them. (In this paranoid age, let me be clear that this is a pure and uncomplicated passion!) And I’m worried that it is all too easy to become so concerned about the “missing boys” that we ignore the equally important needs of the girls who are seeking out confirmation and committing to our eight-month program. We are in danger of focusing too much on who isn’t with us, and why they aren’t, and too little on the precious, magnificent young people who are right in front of us.

As a male professor and youth leader, I take my job as a role model very seriously. I know that I have a role to play in the lives of both young men and young women. The fact that I am male doesn’t mean that the boys are any more or less important to me than are their sisters. But to some extent, adult males are particularly important for boys because they can model an alternative vision of what it means to be masculine. Teenage boys want very much to know how to live as adult men, and it is considerably easier for a grown man to show that in his actions as well as his words. This doesn’t mean that adult women can’t mentor boys, and adult men can’t mentor girls; it just means that we often learn differently from same and other-sexed role models. So I get that I have a special task when it comes to the boys.

The reasons why our confirmation classes have such a skewed gender ratio are hardly unique to All Saints. Like many liberal churches, relatively few of our prospective confirmands have been forced by their parents to be in the program; if it were compulsory, we would expect a more even number of boys and girls. And all things being equal, more girls than boys seem interested in exploring their faith and spending time in service. I’ve heard a variety of suggestions floated to make the program more attractive to boys (less talking, more outdoor activities), but most of those ideas, if implemented, would gut the program as it exists. It would also mean ignoring the generally positive responses of the few boys whom we do have in the program. And it would mean we were showing more concern for men than for women, more concern for those absent than for those present.

The current obsession in education is a hyper-anxiety about the well-being of boys, and an almost misogynistic fear that our current pedagogical structures favor girls. After all, if more girls than boys are showing up and being successful, this must be attributed to an anti-male bias rather than to a greater interest and effort on the part of the girls themselves! Too many girls and well-behaved boys have been ignored for too long by teachers and youth leaders who devote too much attention to coping with the few “problem boys” (chronic troublemakers, overly medicated hyperactives, etcetera).

Am I upset that we’ve got 16 girls and 3 boys? Heck no. Would I be upset if we had 16 boys and 3 girls? Nope. Jesus calls us to feed His lambs, and we feed the lambs who come for food. What point is there in searching endlessly after those who aren’t showing up, if the end result is that those who have come to be fed are ignored?

Abstinence, sex education, rape, desire, and who ought to be wearing the millstone

This week, many in the feminist blogosphere have been addressing the subject of date rape and sex education, primarily in response to this article in the American Prospect that ran a couple of days ago. The point of Courtney Martin’s piece is that an absence of sex education (particularly in the age of an abstinence-only message) increases the possibility that acquaintance rapes will happen on college campuses:

The lack of public, comprehensive, and complex sex education in this country contributes to this toxic sexual culture on most college campuses. The abstinence-only sex education that most young men and women receive does not teach them how to articulate their own sexual needs and respect those articulated by their partners. Teens who are merely told “Just don’t do it” are lacking more than an anatomy lesson or information on contraceptive choices. They are also missing out on essential communication skills and life-saving knowledge about sex and power. Which is bad news for teenagers in our paradoxically hyper-sexual and hyper-conservative contemporary America who are in desperate need of wise mentorship.

Though many feminists have responded and responded well, I wanted to write today as both a feminist and an evangelical. My faith tells me that sexuality is one of God’s great gifts; my own experience tells me that it can bring joy and heartbreak; my pro-feminism is keenly aware of how easily it can be misused. And as a Christian feminist, I am grieved that the unwillingness of the church (I use the term in its broadest sense) to talk frankly about sexuality has unwittingly created an environment that threatens the safety and the dignity of our young people.

The contemporary evangelical movement is rightly critical of many aspects of our hyper-sexuaalized culture. Christians are right to be troubled by the crass commercialization of sex, and they are right to speak out against the severing of sexual activity from loving, enduring relationships. Most serious and thoughtful Christians respect the tremendous power of sex: we honor the pleasure it brings, and we are awed by its power to overwhelm our senses and fill us with physical, emotional, even spiritual delight. It is no accident that even the unbelievers among us cry out “Oh God!” so often at orgasm; it’s a recognition of an transcendent quality of sex at its best.

But too often, Christians, particularly evangelicals, have been more concerned with preventing pre-marital sexual activity than we have been with encouraging honest and open dialogue. We imagine that if we can somehow keep our boys and girls in a sexual deep freeze until their wedding nights, the sex that follows will be mutually satisfying, blissful, and honoring to God. Too often, we assume that issues of consent are only important for the “sinfully promiscuous”, rather than for believers as well. But as we all know, marriage is no guarantor of mutuality, and the “Yes!” of the wedding day is not a “Yes” to every future sexual act that a spouse might want.

Christians are divided about pre-marital sex, of course. The mainstream evangelical position is that genital sexual activity is to be saved for heterosexual marriage, though substantial minorities of serious, devout Christians argue for a more inclusive understanding. But we ought not to continue to make the mistake that we have been making, which is to see all pre-marital sex as equally sinful and thus equally worthy of condemnation.

Surely, from the standpoint of a youth pastor or a loving parent, God’s “best” for their son or daughter might be that they wait until marriage to have intercourse. But as we’re told over and over again, we ought never let the “best be the enemy of the good.” From that same standpoint of pastor or parent, assume your child is having sex before marriage. Wouldn’t we all want our son or daughter in a safe, loving relationship rather than in an abusive one? Wherever there is love and mutuality, there is at least some reflection of God, even if it isn’t the best; wherever there is abuse and violation, there is surely profound sin.

The tragedy of abstinence-only education is that it fails to draw meaningful distinctions about non-marital sexual activity. It lumps together acquaintance rape with a loving, consensual relationship. It obstinately refuses to distinguish between random promiscuity and a committed, monogamous dating relationship. The abstinence-only crowd simply cries “all sin is equally sinful”, which grossly distorts theology. While it is true that all sin represents “separation from God”, not all sins separate us an equal distance away. Sins of malice, according to church tradition, are always worse than sins of desire (see our old boy Aquinas for that!) Sins that deny the dignity of the other (which is what rape always does) are inherently malicious; sins that honor that dignity (and honor can exist in a pre-marital relationship) are at worst sins of concupiscence, which is not nearly as serious a sign of separation from God.

In my circle of Christian friends, many of whom are youth leaders, we have a widely divergent set of views on sexuality. Some insist that sex is rightly only confined to the marriage bed; others (such as myself) believe in a more inclusive, broader understanding of sexual possibility outside of heterosexual marriage. But those of us who love young people, who work to feed them as Christ asked us to, who dream dreams for them and wrap our arms around them and worry about them even as we know that they aren’t really ours at all — for us, to a man and a woman, we want them to have joy. We want them to be safe. And we acknowledge that simply teaching kids to “wait” or “just say no” doesn’t do anything to equip them to cope with their own sexual desires and those of their peers.

When I first blogged about teaching sex ed at All Saints Church, I got an angry email from a conservative Christan reader. He quoted that passage that shows up in all the synoptic gospels about what ought to happen to those who cause the little ones to stumble. And I said to him, as charitably as I could, what I say to my “abstinence-only” friends: It is you who are causing the young to stumble. By refusing to acknowledge any possibility for healthy, blessed sexual expression outside of marriage, by refusing to equip our precious young people with the tools to talk about their hopes, fears, and desires, you teach them shame. You teach them silence. And you make them vulnerable, both before and after marriage, to abuse. Better the millstone for you indeed, my friends.

“Obscene gerunds”, the Christian life, and being in the world

Jendi Reiter, who actually does very well what the sound of her surname implies, has a great post up this week about her experiences as a Christian writing a novel about decidedly non-Christian characters living a “lifestyle” of, as she and the Times put it, “obscene gerunds.”

I’m working on a novel that is taking me to some pretty strange places. Places in my head, for now, but no less dangerous for all that. These people are doing things that I’ve generally been too sensible, uninterested or afraid to do…

My characters drink, swear, commit adultery, have one-night stands, choose rock ‘n roll over doing their homework, and otherwise follow what they think is their bliss because the gospel is not just for people like me who don’t find any of those things appealing (except swearing — I am from Manhattan). I see the beauty and joy that they are seeking, the genuineness of their quest for a life beyond rational self-interest, as well as the insufficiency of their answers…

Jendi and I are both adult converts, though our pre-conversion lives were clearly quite different. I have been called many things in my day, but “sensible” has rarely been one of them. I’ve done the obscene gerunds six ways to Sunday, collected the bagfuls of stories — complete with the photos, court proceedings and physical and psychic scars to prove it. As one of my exes put it to me, quoting (I think) Anne Tyler, “Hugo, you’ve spent years leading a ’slipping-down life’”. Like more than a few sinners through the ages, I slipped right to the point of death — and by grace was saved. It’s a familiar story.

Jendi is called to write; it’s part of the gift set our God gave to her. And I’m so damned grateful that she’s doing writing that is grounded in the Gospel but isn’t saccharine sweet, isn’t, as she says, a pastel-covered Thomas Kinkade world. Christianity has to work in the real world, wide open to the realities of how people live and breathe. It has to acknowledge that people don’t just make love all the time, sometimes the sinners (and the saints) fuck. Authentic Christian writing, authentic Christian praxis, can be grounded in the transcendent (how’s that for an unworkable image), but it’s also got to engage people where they’re at, in all their messy, embodied, pleasureable, painful, earthiness.

At All Saints, I work with my share of teens who are trying out the “obscene gerunds.” Some of our kids are, like Jendi, “sensible” (or perhaps just fearful); others are more eager to explore their options. Lots of them have pre-marital sex, many get high. And while I know that for some this behavior is self-destructive acting-out, I know too much to believe that that’s true for all of them. Not every girl who loses her virginity at 16 is “troubled and looking for attention.” Modern conservative Christians tend to see pre-marital sexual behavior as not only sinful, but also indicative of some fundamental pyschological dysfunction. We confuse sin with pathology too easily, trying to get the language of a secular discipline (psychology) to reinforce our traditional moral views. (One of my ex-wives has her doctorate from Fuller Seminary in psychology, where they make a magnificent and spirited attempt to integrate the social sciences with evangelical theology.)

With my All Saints kids, I know my primary job is to love them as Jesus loved them, and to gently, softly, point them towards Him. But I make it clear to them that it is possible to love Jesus with all of your heart, soul, and mind, and still say “fuck.” It may even be possible to love Jesus with all of your heart, soul, and mind and do more than merely say it! As I’ve written before elsewhere, I reject the idea that experience is the best teacher. But I also reject the notion, common in Christian circles, that messy experience has no redemptive value. After all, my ability to pastor my kids when they are struggling is in no small way linked to my own past. I can say “I’ve been there”, and have it be true. Such authenticity often matters to teenagers, though it doesn’t mean that someone without such experience is a poor youth pastor.

And I will confess that I do enjoy the stories that some of my friends who are still “out there” share with me! When I first got sober and turned my life over, I was forced to end a lot of friendships with people whose influence was less than positive. They were interested in continuing to do with me what I had been wont to do, and that behavior was killing me. For a long time, I didn’t dare go to bars or clubs. (Now, I’m too eager to get to bed early, but that’s another story.) I avoided R-rated movies for a while, and in the first blush of conversion and sobriety, became — typically — a bit of a prig. It was what I needed to do, as my confidence was so fragile and my vulnerability so great. Just being around alcohol, just being around a culture of promiscuity, terrified me. And I had to withdraw.

That’s not the case any longer. I’m okay being the only sober person in the room these days, though I do find that most drunks aren’t nearly as funny as they think they are. I can be in an atmosphere of electric sexual tension, quietly confident that my faith and my devotion to my wife will keep me safe. I don’t flirt with temptation merely to test my conversion, nor do I seek it out for an illicit thrill, but I don’t run from it either. I like some of the wild stories I hear from my teens and my friends who are still “out there” doin’ the obscene gerunds. Often I can say, “Been there, done that, have the scar and the t-shirt”, but other times I can say “Wow, even I never tried that!” I don’t deny that for all of the pain I endured and inflicted, I often had a great deal of pleasure and fun. And while I don’t dwell on the memories of the past, I’m not reluctant to contemplate what others are still out there doing.

I’m looking forward to Jendi’s book.

More on youth group, boundaries, and accountability

Lauren not only designed this blog, she’s inspiring two posts from me today. Yesterday, our Indiana friend posted about her own church camp experience. She talks at length about one particularly creepy counselor, a man who was regularly and stunningly sexually inappropriate. Lauren shares some anecdotes, and notes that he acted out in full view of

other adults, all of whom were, as mentioned, too nice to say anything about how grossly inappropriate all of this was.

That strikes a nerve with me. I’m a veteran church youth volunteer; I help lead Wednesday night and Sunday afternoon teen groups. I’ve gone on many, many weekend retreats. And I’ve written at length about the importance of good, loving boundaries with teenagers. (See here, here, here.)

But I’m also prone to bouts of niceness. Yes, I watch my own behavior around teenagers very carefully; I make sure that I get regular feedback from other adult volunteers who see me hug and pat and “love on” the boys and girls with whom I interact. But reading Lauren’s post, I am struck by how trusting I am of my fellow volunteers! Let me be clear that I have absolutely no reason to doubt the integrity of any of them. I’ve never witnessed any inappropriate behavior — yet on the other hand, I’m not as zealous about checking up on my colleagues as I am in monitoring my own interactions with the teens. And like many people, I don’t like confrontation one bit. Challenging a peer — or a church leader — would not be easy. But I’d like to think that if I saw an adult behave inappropriately with one of our teens, I would intervene quickly. I’m hoping my desire to protect the vulnerable would trump my eagerness to maintain a “nice and pleasant” atmosphere.

In a comment below Lauren’s post, Thomas writes:

I’m very concerned at accounts I have read over the years about people knowing of and ignoring adults with a history of sexually charged behavior with and access to children. It is my experience that people can turn their heads more easily when nobody requires them to take responsibility. I recommend the following question:

“Will my child have contact with anyone here that you have reason to believe may be sexually attracted to children?”

Anyone with a brain knows that if they have been ignoring the rumors about Mr. Davis, and they say no, then their ass is now on the hook in both a moral and likely a legal sense.

It’s a tough question for a parent to ask, but I’d be pleased if a parent asked it of me or any other youth leader at All Saints. Thinking of my fellow volunteers and youth pastors, I’m completely confident I could give a hearty “no”. I wouldn’t be offended by the question at all, even if was directed at me personally. Asking direct questions like this set a clear tone: it makes it evident that the protection of children and teens is more important than avoiding putting adults on the spot. It makes it clear that parents expect that the adults to whom they entrust their young people will do more than simply refrain from harming their kids. A parent who asks the question Thomas suggests makes it clear that he or she is holding those of us who work with youth accountable. And I welcome that accountability, and am committed to living it out.

We had our final youth group meeting of 2006 on Wednesday night. We had a Christian rock band, Transistor Radio do a gig for the teens. We had tacos and Christmas cookies and a gift exchange. And we had lots of laughter, lots of hugs, and a bit of gentle “moshing” as the band performed. And when it came time to say goodbye until 2007, there was a lot of hugging. As I’ve written before, I don’t foist my embraces on anyone — but when hugged, I hug back with warmth and exuberance and enthusiasm. The kids I work with know that if they need to be held, I will hold them. They know that if they need me to keep my space while they talk, I can do that too. And I know that whatever I’m doing is seen by the wider community, and I welcome their queries or concerns. Lauren’s post reminds me that I can’t forget I also have a job to lovingly watch how my colleagues interact with our kids, and be fearless about challenging anything that seems out of place.

“He said I wasn’t a Christian”: teaching confirmation class at a liberal Episcopal parish

Yesterday afternoon (after the long run, before going off to Borat), I spent a few hours with our 2006-2007 Seekers Confirmation Class at All Saints Pasadena.  We’ve got about 19 kids this year, and it looks like another wonderful group.  The dear Susan Russell came to talk to us, and she was, as always, a hit with her candor, her humor, and her knack for turning the perfect phrase to appeal to adults and youth alike.

In our discussion, one topic came up that always comes up, and one that I haven’t blogged on before: the common experience All Saints youth have of being told "you’re not a real Christian."  Especially in recent years, as All Saints Pasadena has gained national prominence for its fight with the IRS and our bold stance in favor of gay marriage, I’ve heard from many, many of the teens I work with that they have been subjected to some fairly hurtful remarks from school friends and classmates. 

"You’re not a real Christian"; "That’s not a real church"; "You’re the gay church"; "You don’t follow the Bible"; "People at All Saints are going to hell" –every one of those comments was uttered to one or another of the kids in my confirmation class in recent months after telling people they attend All Saints Pasadena.  Some of our teens met the scorn and derision with pride and defiance; others responded with a shrug; others were genuinely hurt; still others were frankly bewildered. 

Few things make me angrier  than to have the youth I call "my kids" told that they aren’t real Christians.   Kids may not be particularly interested in theology, but they are intensely sensitive to judgment — and to be on the receiving end of so many unkind, cruel remarks is hard for many of them.  The church in which they’ve been baptized, the church in which they are preparing to be confirmed, is under attack — and for most of them, that means that their parents and many of the grown-ups they know and trust are also under attack.  As a thirty-nine year-old, I’m quite happy to cross swords with a fellow believer who questions my salvation or my theology because I endorse same-sex unions; I’m less happy when my fourteen year-olds are told they are going to hell because they worship where they do.

Still, like most of my fellow adult youth leaders, I have no intention of instilling a "martyr complex" in our teens.  I’m not going to give them the pathetic "the world hates us for our commitment to Christ" song and dance.  One of the least attractive strategies employed  by Christian conservatives is to insist to their youth that by adhering to antiquated social mores they are somehow being boldly counter-cultural; I’ll be darned if I’m going to foist the left-wing version of that nonsense on to my teens.  In a world where real suffering is omnipresent, being told "you’re not a Christian" because you worship at an inclusive church is hardly a major form of oppression.

On the other hand, we don’t simply encourage a "stiff upper lip".  We reminded our kids yesterday that no one issues "Christian credentials."  There is no agreed-upon litmus test.  While some evangelicals insist that Catholics aren’t Christians, and others refuse to acknowledge Mormons as our brothers and sisters in Christ, most sensible believers choose to see all who follow Jesus as authentic Christians.  While part of being Christian is certainly holding the person of Jesus Christ as central in one’s faith, it is absurd to suggest that only those who believe in biblical inerrancy, for example, are actual Christians.   "Being a Christian is about being willing to be on a journey with Jesus", I said, "even if you aren’t quite sure who exactly Jesus is and even if you are very unsure of where it is you are going."

Mind you, I think there are limits to who gets to call themselves a "Christian."  My mother regularly told my grandmother she wasn’t a Christian.  My grandmother had been an atheist since she was a student at Berkeley in the 1920s; she read Lucretius (De Rerum Natura), and that did it for her.  She rejected the whole idea of a loving God who took an interest in human affairs.  Yet she insisted on calling herself a Christian because in her childhood, to be "Christian" was simply to be kind and good.  It wasn’t a theological statement to her — it was a statement about how one behaved towards one’s fellow citizens.  "Doing the Christian thing" referred to taking an active interest in the well-being of others, and had damn all to do with a belief in Jesus.  To the end of her life, she was both "atheist and Christian". 

While I adored my grandmother, I think she was outside the realm of what a Christian is.   A specific belief about the inerrancy of Scripture or sexual morality is not a prerequisite for calling oneself a Christian, a recognition that the person of Jesus of Nazareth is central to one’s faith does seem to be essential to using the term accurately.  As a youth leader and confirmation teacher, I want to bring my kids closer to Jesus.   I want them to love Him not merely as a great role model for righteous praxis but as the greatest of friends, the best of brothers, the most intimate of lovers.  That is how I know Him, and that sweet, intimate, spiritually erotic relationship is the most exciting and enriching of my life. 

But whatever relationship this year’s confirmation crop chooses to develop with Christ, I want them to know that their right to call themselves Christians, their "claiming of the name", is not contingent on any one particular worldview; any one particular political allegiance; any one understanding of how, when, where, and with whom it is good and right to be sexual.   And this year, our confirmands will learn that no narrow-minded classmate or friend can rob them of the right to embrace the Holy Name.

Youth ministry and GLBT teens: some reflections and the inevitable anecdote

So I’ve been asked — particularly by Elizabeth — to post about doing youth ministry with gay, lesbian, and bisexual youth.  (I am not deliberately excluding trans/intersex youth, it’s just that in my seven years of working with teens at All Saints, I’ve never known a kid who fell into that category.  We may have had such youngsters, but I wasn’t aware of ‘em.  At PCC, I have taught many, many, pre- and post-op transsexuals over the years, both male-to-female and - fewer — female-to-male.)

All Saints Pasadena is an affirming church with an inclusive, welcoming attitude to the GLBT community.  That welcome is very much part of the youth group culture as well.   I’ve worked with a number of young gay men, several young lesbians, and several kids who — at the time they were in the youth group — identified as bisexual.  For these purposes, I’m only "counting" those kids who came out to me individually or to the entire group; honestly, there were a few more teens whose sexuality seemed clear to me, but who did not discuss or disclose.   Adult youth workers do well to avoid testing out their own "gaydar", and as tempting as it might be in other settings to do so, we’re very good about not making idle guesses about a kid’s sexual identity.

If there’s an easier place to "come out" as gay, lesbian, or bisexual than All Saints Pasadena, I don’t know where it is.   Most of our kids have been coming to All Saints their whole lives.  We blessed our first same-sex union back in 1991; none of our teens today are old enough to remember that  event.  So as far as they are concerned, their church has been openly and bravely "affirming" gay and lesbian relationships for as long as they’ve been alive.  We have many, many gay and lesbian couples at All Saints who are raising children; every one of our teens has a friend in choir, or on an acolyte team, or in Wednesday Night Group, who has two same-sex parents.  While in other communities, a kid growing up with "two moms" or "two dads" might feel as if their experience was unique, there’s no chance of that in our parish.

But no matter how loving and inclusive we are, coping with sexuality in adolescence is still going to be hard for our teens, gay or straight.   On some level, puberty is puberty is puberty — and being fourteen and fifteen will mean going through an awkward, confusing time.  That’s true for kids in the most conservative and most liberal of churches.  Our openness and willingness to listen, our refusal to condemn, our constant reminders to our kids that they are loved — these are great tools, but they are not all-powerful prophylaxes against the angst and pain of growing up.   I’ve got strong arms for hugging and strong ears for listening and a strong faith to sustain me, but I don’t have the power to magically boost self-esteem or instantly cure a broken heart.  I can point to the One who does have that power, but even He has a tendency to work slowly and gently!  The longing teens have for the "quick fix" can’t be met in church.

After seven years of working at a liberal parish, I’ve noticed something.  Many parents are very comfortable supporting equal rights for gays and lesbians, even while they still struggle with their own deep-seated discomfort with alternative sexuality.  And while they may have gay friends and they may go to lesbian weddings, they are still sometimes deeply distressed to learn that their kid isn’t straight.  There’s a common, obvious, powerful parental double standard that is surely familiar to anyone who has done work with GLBT youth!  That’s not to say that we have many parents who would disown their child, or pack them off to some dreadful ex-gay ministry; it is an acknowledgment that there is often a disconnect between a professed ideal of radical inclusion and one’s own private dreams for one’s kid.  And most parents, even the true-blue card-carrying religious progressive ones, tend to dream dreams for their kids that have decidedly heterosexual overtones. 

A quick case in point: a few years ago, we had a very bright and sparkling young woman whom I will call "Alaria."   One evening at dinner, Alaria asked to talk to me privately.  A sophomore at a private girls’ school, Alaria had fallen in love with an older (senior) classmate.  The two girls were having an affair, and Alaria was head over heels.  I had known Alaria in junior high, when she had been as "boy crazy" as could be imagined.  (She had gone through a phase of being the biggest Hilary Duff fan in the world in eighth grade.)  But I also knew enough to know that adolescent sexual identity can be a very fluid thing, and it can take twists and turns that surprise everyone.  Alaria wanted to talk to me for two reasons: one, she wanted to tell some adult she trusted about the fact that she was madly in love.  (She showed me so many pictures of her girlfriend stored on her digital camera that I finally had to beg her to stop.)    After all, one of the joys of young love is telling people you care about just how happy you are!

But the other reason Alaria wanted to talk was because of her parents.  She was scared to tell her parents about her girlfriend, not because they considered homosexuality immoral, but because she was afraid they would be disappointed.  She also  had a practical concern: because her parents had no inkling of her sexual relationship, Alaria was allowed to sleep over at her girlfriend’s house, something they would never allow her to do with a boy.  "If they know what’s really going on they won’t let us be together", Alaria said.    She had still another reason for being reluctant to tell her mom and dad.  "I’m not a lesbian, Hugo", Alaria said.  "I’m not sure what I am.  I think I am a Jessica-ian!"  ("Jessica", of course, was her girlfriend.)  Alaria was afraid of discussing her sexual identity with her parents because, frankly, she wasn’t sure what to tell them.  All she knew was that she was in love with Jessica, Jessica was in love with her, and they were having a full-on relationship.  Beyond that, Alaria made it clear that "none of the words feel right."  (She meant that terms like "lesbian" or "bisexual" didn’t seem to apply to her.)

I did what I’ve been taught to do in situations like this.  I told Alaria I was there for her, and I also told her I would be happy to meet with her and her parents if she wanted a "safe adult" there to take part  in the discussion.  I also told her I wasn’t going to pressure her to talk to her mom and dad.  Since I knew one of the counselors at her school (an MSW), I did suggest that Alaria go and see her, but I didn’t pressure her either.  My job was clear: to listen without condemnation, to affirm, to direct towards possible further resources, and to love unconditionally.  I am overjoyed that I belong to a church where I can do that without betraying the mission of our faith community or contradicting our professed values.

Alaria’s girlfriend went away to college.  Alaria herself graduated recently, and is off at a very fine East Coast school.  She’s sent me a couple of emails, but no talk of her sexual identity.  That’s fine; I don’t "need to know" whether she calls herself straight or lesbian or bi or queer or questioning or none of the above.  She’s climbing her own staircase now with God beside her, behind her, and ahead of her.   I only hope that we gave her a sense that she was loved unconditionally, whoever she was and whoever she is and whoever she will be.

As usual, I’ve offered a story in place of critical analysis.  Ultimately, when people ask me questions like the one Elizabeth posed about GLBT youth at All Saints, all I can do is respond with a story.

Does the libido mature? A musing on desire and ageing in response to Fiona

I am home from a very happy visit with my family in Northern California.  Despite nursing a mild cold, I did get in some good trail running, got plenty of sleep, plenty of time with my family.  I also got to be among the 72,000 in attendance as my beloved Golden Bears won an impressive victory over the Oregon Ducks last night.   It was my first time in Memorial Stadium since 1986, and it was a joy to be back.

I am pleased to find that such an interesting and civil discussion took place beneath this post.  I always worry when I’m not around to edit or delete offensive comments, but it seems to have gone quite well.

Before wrapping up my Sunday quietly, I want to address two comments by Fiona below last week’s post on Mark Foley and working with teens.

First Fiona asked:

Do you ever worry about being sexually attracted to your students or youth group kids? Don’t you ever think you might be tempted to cross the line? You write as if you are immune to temptation. Just because you don’t act on it doesn’t mean you don’t feel it!!

Then in a follow-up:

Do male youth leaders like him (Hugo) behave because they don’t have sexual desire, or do they have sexual desire but just control it? It makes a difference to me as an 18 year-old, and it was something my friend who was in his youth group always wondered.

A couple of other commenters weighed in, but I want to address this immediately.

I know that I tend to write a great deal about the importance of male self-control.  My emphasis on self-discipline, I realize, suggests that I spend a great deal of time "wrestling with temptation."  I’ve often made statements along the lines of "Virtue is not the absence of desire, but restriction in the presence of desire." 

I realize that this is a problematic line to take as a youth leader.  I make it clear that I am trustworthy and safe, but I don’t explain whether it is a struggle to be so.  While Kip (another commenter) advises I don’t answer the questions Fiona asks, I think it is vital to do so.

No, I have never experienced sexual attraction to the kids in my youth group.  It is with considerable confidence (and a sigh of relief) that I can make that statement! Never, ever, have I experienced physiological or emotional arousal as the result of an interaction with a teen who was under my charge.   I don’t know what to attribute this to, but I suspect both chronological maturity and spiritual conviction play a part in this.   At nearly forty, I can say that quite happily it has been years and years since I have experienced strong attraction to someone that young.

One thing I’ve been blessed with: a consistent track record of being attracted to women my own age.  When I was 16, I thought about my fellow teens.  In my college years, I was attracted to other students.   Unlike some of my peers, when I was in college I had little interest in older women (honestly, I found them intimidating beyond words!)  I certainly lost interest in high school-aged girls not long after leaving Carmel High.

I’ve been getting a lot of email lately (again) about my posts on older men, younger women.  (Here, here, here.) I’ve got some points I’ll probably address in another post on the subject soon.  But I realize that my experience as a teacher and a youth leader is not the only factor that makes me so inherently mistrustful of age-disparate relationships.  There’s another factor at work, and that is my own conviction, rooted in my experience, that emotional maturity always means being most strongly attracted to those in one’s own age group.

When I was in college, I remember having a discussion with a male friend of mine.  "Sean" and I were talking about my friend’s father, who had recently left his mother for a younger woman. Sean was understandably disconsolate.  But one thing he said haunted me for a long time.  I’ll paraphrase:

Dad left mom for someone only a couple of years older than us. (We were 20 or so at this time).  I don’t find women my mom’s age sexy at all.  It seems my dad doesn’t either.  What if I get married, get to be my dad’s age, and find out I’m still attracted to girls in their early twenties?  What if my sex drive doesn’t mature along with the rest of me?

Boy, do I remember when Sean asked that question in bold!  I had no answer for him, beyond a feeble "Man, that would suck."  But it frightened me.  All around me I saw evidence of men in their forties and fifties who were strongly attracted to young women in their teens and early twenties.  It wasn’t just a media phenomenon; in my early years of taking women’s studies classes, I heard countless anecdotes from my female classmates about harassment at the hands of much older men.  It made me angry, it made me cynical, but it also terrified me.  Sean was right about me too: when I was 20, I didn’t find women twice my age to be at all sexually attractive.  What if I felt the same way when I too was 40?   For whatever reason, that fear nagged and nagged at me.

But I was blessed.  And I found that my libido evolved along with the rest of me.  As I aged, my interest in my peers remained the same.  Gradually, girls in their teens lost their appeal.  Women in their 30s, and then older, began to become far more interesting.  By the time I was in my early 30s, this maturation in my own psyche was quite clear to me, even as I was going through a series of unsuccessful relationships.  My behavior was neither feminist nor gentlemanly, but even at my worst, it was always age-appropriate.   Today, I can say that my wife’s beauty awes me.  She’s beautiful in her fourth decade of her life, but I have every expectation that I will find her every bit as lovely in her eighth decade on this planet.

Once I began working with teenagers regularly at All Saints (some seven years ago), I found that my emotional response to "my kids" was, not surprisingly, often intensely paternal.  I’ve wanted to be a father for a few years now, and the teenagers with whom I work today are easily old enough to be my biological children.  And while I adore these teens in the specific, I find that those protective, paternal feelings exist for all boys and girls of similar age.  While I can certainly acknowledge the aesthetic beauty/handsomeness of certain teens, juvenile loveliness strikes no chord in me.  This is not merely due to my very happy marriage, but also due to this strong internal sense that sexual desire is rightly directed towards one’s approximate peers.

When I was in my early teens, one of my first celebrity "crushes" was on Kristy McNichol. (Famous for "Little Darlings", but also for a favorite TV show few of you remember, "Family.") Then in high school and college it was on Jennifer Jason Leigh.  Now, if I were to admit to one at all, it would be (as I’ve posted before) on Mariska Hargitay.  All three are just slightly older than I am.   And while I admire Scarlett Johannsson as an actress, hearing her dubbed "the sexiest woman alive" made me laugh out loud with disbelief — not because she isn’t lovely, but because she seems so damned young to me.

I do not mean to suggest that someone who is 39 (as I am) shouldn’t be attracted to someone who is 29 or 49.  But those ages seem to me — and this may be my own peculiarity — the outer limits of acceptability.   Anything beyond ten years either direction seems, well, odd.  Please understand that I acknowledge that age-disparate relationships can work, as long as the younger partner is genuinely emotionally mature.  A relationship between a 35 year-old and a 15 year-old is immoral, criminal, and indefensible; a relationship between a 55 year-old and a 35 year-old is none of those things. 

Still, I admit that I am perplexed by those who find such disparities to be erotically or emotionally exciting.  For me, the truth is simple: since I hit puberty, I have never experienced sexual attraction to someone old enough to be my mother or young enough to be my daughter.  And I acknowledge that one reason why I am often so hard on men who do experience that attraction to much younger women is because I can’t empathize with it, not even for a moment.   I try and "get it", and I just can’t.  It makes me instinctively angry, both on behalf of the girls who are all too often horrified by inappropriate sexual attention and on behalf of those "older" women who are forced to worry obsessively about losing their sex appeal as a consequence.

I began this post intending to make an emphatic response to the awkward but important question that Fiona posed.  I realize I’ve gone off on quite a tangent, and for that I apologize.  But as I started to write, I thought about what Sean had asked all those years ago.  I don’t know whether or not his life has turned out as mine has.   For his sake, and the sake of the women who love him, I hope it has. 

It is possible that my experience that the objects of my desire age as I age is just a quirk of my personality.  It certainly hasn’t been the result of any conscious effort on my part (and my regular readers know I am quick to sing the praises of conscious effort!).  But I can’t help but think that "my way" is the fundamentally healthier way.  It just seems to me that a great deal of heartache and exploitation could be avoided if we could all just match our libidos to our approximate peer group!  Or am I wrong?

More on Mark Foley and working with teens

I’m thinking about Mark Foley again this morning.   I have nothing to say about the political fallout of the case.  "Who knew what when" is the old scandal game that I find very dull to play and discuss.

I am always, always particularly saddened when an adult crosses a sexual boundary with a teenager of either sex.  I am stunned by the possibility that since the boys with whom he exchanged sexually explicit IMs were 16 or older, any act that may or may not have taken place between them would be legal in most states, given that 16 is the age of consent in most places.  (This is not a post about consent, but I feel strongly that a 16 year-old may be able to consent to sex with an 18 year-old boyfriend or girlfriend — but not to someone over, say, 25 or 30.  To me "consent to whom" ought to be a key part of the law.  If I were — heaven forbid — to cross that line with a 17 year-old, I ought to go to jail for a nice long time.)

But as I’ve pointed out in other posts on the subject of being a youth leader, the tragedy of the Foley case is that it increases the suspicion we have of the interest that older adults show in teens.  I read this week that Foley’s first emails to one page should have raised alarms, not because of their sexual content but because Foley seemed to show "excessive interest" in the boy.  That troubles me — are we clear about what constitutes excessive interest?

I have the cell phone numbers of many of my teens.  They have mine.  (They do not have my home phone.)  I have their emails, and, in some cases, their IMs.  They have mine.  And I do contact boys and girls, and they me.   I ask about sports, I ask about family, I ask about grades, I ask about faith.   I don’t send unsolicited emails, of course — I always invite the kids to contact me first.  And I am scrupulous about the content of those e-mails and IMs.  I always save the e-mails, always.  I don’t save the IMs  because I don’t know how, but I would if I could.  In the extremely unlikely event of a false accusation of something, I want to be able to have a "paper trail."

We live in an era where an adult who shows genuine and sincere interest in the well-being of a young teenager is liable to the charge of pedophilic "grooming".  ("Grooming" refers to building a relationship of trust with a child prior to making sexual advances.)  The behavior of men like Mark Foley doesn’t help those of us who maintain and nurture loving, candid, safe relationships with teens of both sexes. But as I ‘ve said before and will say again, we’ve got to do more than lament the high incidence of betrayal and abuse.  We’ve got to keep loving the kids safely and fearlessly.

The twin pitfalls for a youth leader at a time like this are self-righteousness and fear.  On the one hand, it is vital to avoid defensive proclamations of one’s own innocence.   When parents or other adults question our interest in their children, we owe them a frank and honest answer — it is our job to reassure and convince those who love teens and kids that we are safe.  And in the current climate, that’s a lot of work.

On the other hand, we can’t let fear cause us to withdraw our hugs, our attention, or our love.  I’m not going to stop asking Susie about soccer, or Billy about band, or Yesenia about yearbooks.  I’m not going to stop making myself available to them via modern technology. If kids rely on technology to communicate, youth leaders need to be accessible.   The risks of false accusations are real.  But the risks of withdrawing our attention, interest, and affection are greater still.

Singin’ at All Saints

The cameras have been coming around All Saints Pasadena a lot in recent weeks.  Our famously progressive church has, as many know, been under IRS scrutiny for some months thanks to a 2004 sermon that may or may not have violated our non-profit status.

But the cameras and the reporters don’t come to Wednesday night youth group.   And while it’s true that our inclusive, welcoming theology is hardly what is normally described as "evangelical", I am happy to say that our worship culture is being transformed.  A few years ago, I felt like the token "Jesus freak" at All Saints; the theology of most of my fellow youth workers was more Unitarian than anything.  Many of the older teens were openly hostile to any frank expressions of Christian faith; they preferred a youth group that was equal parts games, intellectual discussion, and group therapy.  (Those are parts of a good youth experience, of course, but ought not be the sum total.)

In the last two years, the church has brought in some full-time youth ministers who manage to combine a respect for All Saints progressive political culture with an evangelical commitment to Christ.  This year, our junior-high minister started a praise band, made up of himself and five kids from both the senior and junior highs.  They’ve been learning basic worship songs, and last night, we had our first praise and worship time at All Saints in my eight years of working with the youth group.

My friends from the more charismatically inclined churches would have felt right at home last night.  The band was good (we have a number of teens who attend arts "magnet" high schools and are nearly professional in their abilities), and the combined junior high/senior high group responded remarkably well.  And the songs we sang!    Most of the kids and the other adult youth leaders didn’t know them beforehand, but as someone who listens to Christian radio and has spent plenty of time in more evangelical settings, they were quite familiar to me.  This one’s a favorite of mine, and it was a delicious bit of cognitive dissonance to hear it sung by 60 young voices at All Saints, many swaying and dancing as they did so.

At what may be the flagship parish of the American Anglican left, at a church where we regularly preach about the inherent goodness of humankind and where we deny the excesses of Calvinist doctrine, our 13-17 year-olds sang to Jesus:

I am full of earth
You are Heaven’s worth
I am stained with dirt, prone to depravity
You are everything that is bright and clean, the antonym of me
You are divinity
But a certain sign of grace is this
From the broken earth flowers
Come up pushing through the dirt

It’s lousy poetry, but it ends up opening a splendid praise song.  Who says you can’t combine liberal politics, an open-minded understanding of human sexuality, and enthusiastic praise worship?  Who says you can’t preach the theology of John Spong and sing lyrics that recall the theology of John Calvin?  Isn’t adolescence partly about the triumphant recognition and embracing of contradictions?  (Okay, I’m half-joking with that one…)

All Saints is gettin’ groovy.

Another note on trust, parents, blogging, and youth ministry: a response to Rob

In a comment below yesterday’s post on sex in marriage, Rob at Unspace provides a link to a post of his: Sex, Christians, Blogs, and Youth Group.

Like me, Rob works with a high school youth group in his church.   In both his church and mine, the youth programs got underway this week, replete with introductions.  Rob wrote:

Last night, we handed out contact information to the kids in our chatroom. Mine used my gmail address, which is a mess and happens to include my paramedic con-ed number. Like I said, a mess. Not something easy to remember. I realized I dare not mention my blog to my 7th and 8th graders.

I’m not hiding it because of the copious amounts of profanity on this blog, or all the photos of sexual organs (some of those insect shots had to include sexual organs). For crying out loud, kids in this age group have seen harder pornography than I have. Given that I regularly do medical searches, that frightens me. But that’s not why I dare not mention this blog.

I am afraid a parent or someone at the church will find this blog. See, I say what I believe. Ok, so maybe I’ll soften it a bit and put some spin on it or explain it in subtle ways to get past watchful dragons. But I say things that are the truth, even if they will get me in trouble. 3

The church I go to is mostly conservative. In the 2004 election, the whole "Christians vote for Bush, because we’re selling our soul to the Republican Party" schtick got on my nerves. I’m actually not the most liberal person in the church. But can you imagine what happens to the head of the youth group if someone goes screaming to the head minister with the URL for this blog?

In his comment below my post yesterday, Rob asks if I ever get grief from parents because of my blog.

Most of "my kids" know about my blog.  Some have found it on their own, or been told about it.  Some came only for pictures of my chinchilla, others to read more about their youth leader.  Most don’t read regularly.  "Your blog is boring", I’ve been told by more than one of the kids in my youth group.  They tell me this apologetically, and usually urge me to go back on Myspace.  (A topic I dealt with here.)

A number of parents do read my blog.  One of our pastors at All Saints, Susan Russell, blogs; she’s linked here for quite some time.  I only occasionally blog about issues in the Anglican Communion, but I blog regularly about sexuality, adolescents, and my experiences as a professor and veteran youth group leader.  I’m fortunate that no parents have, to my knowledge, complained to church authorities about the sexual content of this blog.   They have, however, complained about some of my views; when I wrote words of praise about conservative Anglican Kendall Harmon, I apparently ticked off some liberal parent.  It says something about All Saints Pasadena that my cordial relationship with Christian traditionalists is more worrisome to some parents than my frank blogging about human sexuality!

I walk a fine line at church.  On the one hand, as a youth leader, I feel a tremendous responsibility to be a good shepherd to "my kids", knowing that they belong to their parents and to our God more than to me.  I am humbled by this opportunity to work so closely with these teens, to share with them so much of their lives.   With many, I see them every week of their high school years (save for vacation times); I watch them grow and change.  I’ve been with them through a lot: coming to terms with their own homosexuality; going through their parents’ divorce;  losing their virginity; unwanted pregnancies; the suicide of close friends; heartbreak; bad prom dates; abortions; drug addiction; legal troubles; anorexia; the anxiety of college applications.    And I’ve been with them through a lot of joy as well — I’ve gone to concerts and plays and basketball games and graduations. 

I always try to get to know the parents of my teens.  They need to see me, have a relationship with me, and they need to know they can approach me with their concerns.  They need to trust me, because, like any youth leader, I’m going to hear things from my kids that I can’t repeat to their parents.   My teens share a lot with me.  I meet with them in groups, but also one-on-one.  (Always on church grounds in a place where we can be seen but not heard.)  Frequently, kids tell me things that they don’t want their parents to know.  Sometimes, I encourage them to bring the issues they are struggling with to their mother or father. Other times, I acknowledge that that kind of disclosure is not for the best.  I keep confidences well, knowing that only in a few very specific instances (like an admission of suicidal thoughts) am I obligated to disclose what I have been told. 

Obviously, parents need to trust that I have their kids’ best interests at heart.  If they discover this blog, I would hope that they would gather that I am, at my core, fundamentally safe.  Yes, I’ve had a colorful background with a lot of pre-conversion chaos.  But my transformation is real, and enough years have passed that there need be no fear of Hugo relapsing into old, irresponsible behavior.  My past is now a resource for me to tap into to use with troubled teens.  I know what it’s like to get someone pregnant in high school.  I can roll up my sleeves and show the scars from years of serious self-mutilation.  Those are tools for me to use to connect with frightened, overwhelmed, and alienated teenagers. 

I could probably be a youth minister at very few places besides All Saints Church Pasadena.   At many places, my past and my persona would be obstacles to putting me in a position of trust with so many teenagers.  But at All Saints, I have earned that trust with seven years of transparency, seven years of accountability, seven years of retreats, lock-ins, dances and intimate discussions.  I’ve earned it by hearing, hugging, and holding hundreds and hundreds of kids in a way that is both respectful and exuberant.    My boundaries are excellent, but I won’t let fear hold me back from loving the kids the way Christ calls me to love them.  And I won’t let worry about what parents might think hold me back from blogging about my past, my present, and my myriad, contradictory views about the world.  Because though I change my politics like I change my socks, my commitment to feeding His lambs is unrelenting.  And if you’ve spent time with me, you know that.

I hope that all youth ministers can be as fortunate as I have been and continue to be.

Reprint: Boys, Girls, Hugs

I’m on hiatus — at least from substantive blogging — until August 28.  Until then, I’m reprinting favorite posts from 2004 and 2005.

I consider myself blessed to have grown up in a physically affectionate family. Not only was I regularly hugged and kissed by my mother, but I still hug and kiss my father whenever I see him. (I am grateful that my father, born in Austria, grew up in a relatively demonstrative culture.) As a schoolboy, however, I learned quickly that any sign of physical affection between men (other than during a sporting event, and even then, of a very limited and specific nature) was associated with homosexuality and effeminacy. I didn’t hug a man to whom I wasn’t related until I went to college.

Now, of course, I work as a volunteer youth minister at the local Episcopal church. During the past five years, I’ve worked with a couple of hundred high school-age youth. It’s given me a lot of time to think about gender and physical affection. If there’s one thing I’m committed to, it’s modeling appropriate but loving physical contact with my kids of both sexes. That isn’t always easy to do. Not surprisingly, I have had to confront my own acculturation when it comes to physical affection with young men.

First off, we live in a society that is absolutely obsessed with issues of sexual abuse. This obsession is particularly apparent in our churches and our youth ministries; the past three years have brought devastating news of molestation and abuse in every denomination (though our Catholic brethren seem to have taken the brunt of the hit). In this climate, all men who choose to work with youth are open to suspicion. Some of what is being done in response is good and necessary: stricter background checks, for example. But much of what has happened has not been useful, and some of it has even been counter-productive. I have a friend who works in youth ministry at a Presbyterian church nearby, and he says he has been told that the church’s policy is to never have any youth minister touch a kid in any way at any time. No hugs, no pats on the back, nothing. He’s looking for a new church.

Working with adolescents has taught me just how starved most of them are for safe physical affection, especially the boys. And over time, with input from those on staff at the church, I have developed my own guidelines for my own behavior. What it boils down to is this: I am an inveterate hugger. I hug everyone. Kids, adults, men, women, boys, girls, chinchillas, the ficus tree in the corner. That sounds more compulsive than it is. I have to be constantly, keenly aware of body language. I don’t foist hugs on anyone. Nor do I treat hugs as inconsequential, like Hugo’s version of a casual handshake. What I’m trying to do doesn’t always work perfectly, but it does seem to work most of the time. I’m trying to create a culture in our youth group where non-sexual physical intimacy feels safe and reassuring and validating. That takes a lot of time. Some kids came for six months before I could hug them. Some hugged me the moment they met me. Even in a nurturing and safe environment, there will be different levels of comfort with physical affection.

Many of the girls, of course, have little experience of non-sexual affection from men. If I hear one more story from a teen girl about how her father stopped hugging her when she began to develop, I’m going to scream. (I’m not a father, of course, but I’m just mystified by that phenomenon, which, anecdotally, seems to be epidemic). Many of them, though very young, have already been objectified and harassed by men my age or older. They are in desperate need of truly safe adult men — men who are neither responsive to their sexuality nor terrified of it. For the record, as a matter of common sense, I am never alone with teenage girls at the church. Ever. I also regularly "check in" with my fellow volunteers and with the church staff, asking them to be willing to challenge me should I ever even appear to behave inappropriately. But none of that stops me, when the barriers have been broken down, from hugging.

I don’t hug boys the same way I hug girls. For the most part, with the boys, "horseplay" is the safest environment for physical affection. We do a lot of that at All Saints Church. Mind you, I don’t get down on the ground and wrestle with the kids! But the playful pretend punches, the slaps on the back — all of these can be imbued with very real caring and affection. When I was a high schooler, I wasn’t ready to be held by older men — but I sure as hell wanted their attention, and I did want their caring and affection. A quick squeeze of the shoulder was about all I could take, but damn, did I want that squeeze of the shoulder from men I looked up to! I try and remember that. (I should note that some high school boys do like to hug just as much as the girls do, especially once they realize that ours is a safe environment).

In our current climate of hysteria, we in the church need to struggle to find a balance. We must of course protect our young people from exploitation and abuse. We must do everything we can to create a safe place within our church communities for our teens. But a place where every gesture of physical affection is seen as dangerous is an inherently unsafe environment! Our young women need to be reminded, over and over again, that they are loved and cared for non-sexually; in that effort, a hug is worth ten thousand words. Our young men need to be reminded, over and over again, that here, at least one night a week during youth group, they don’t have to be "tough guys." They need men in their lives who will love them without judging them or assessing their fragile masculinities.

I have to admit, it’s a bit scary to post about this. I know that many, many women out there — and some men — have devastating stories of betrayal at the hands of male authority figures. I know that many of them know just how awful it can be when what was supposed to be a "safe" hug or touch becomes something far different. I try to never lose sight of that reality. But it is also because I am so aware of the prevalence of sexual abuse that I insist on touching the youth with whom I work. I do so not to show my disregard for common sense, but as an act of defiance against a culture that declares all affection to be suspicious. I do it because the kids need it. I do it because we all need it. And I do it because Jesus did it.

Originally posted June 15, 2004