Looking for a viable, faithful 'life dream'
-- and craving a little respect
by Camille Colatosti

"Students are busier now than they used to be," says Ruth Monette, a 24-year old lay minister at the University of Southern California (see sidebar). Having graduated from Hobart and William Smith Colleges just two years ago, she knows first-hand how busy college students are. "I was overextended as a student," she says, "just taking a normal course load, working 10 hours a week, and taking a leadership role in different campus organizations." At the University of Southern California, Monette mentors a student leadership team for campus ministries.

"There is only about one hour a week when I can get all four students in my leadership team together. They are just too busy."

As Monette explains, "All of my students work. One is in ROTC (Reserve Officer Training Corps), so he gets up when some of the other students are just going to bed. Being employed has made a big difference in how busy students are. But there are also lots of options in terms of how to get involved on campus. A lot of students volunteer in different ways. Of course, classes take a lot of time and it's easy to forget that part."

Sidebars:

Jamie Tester, a 20-year-old sophomore at the College of St. Scholastica in Duluth, Minn., exemplifies busyness. In addition to taking 16 to 18 credit hours (four to five classes) each term, she works as a resident advisor in her dorm, "maintaining order among 32 women -- it's a 24-hour job!"

Tester is also a student senator and chair of the senate's academic affairs committee.

"All student grievances go through me and my committee," she explains. She tutors students in English, reading papers and helping with writing. And she babysits off campus for a family with two children for about eight hours a week.

"Sometimes I just sit in my room at my desk and feel overwhelmed," Tester admits. "Last week, I was checking my e-mail -- I had a book in front of me so that I could read while my e-mail downloaded -- and I was eating lunch."

Tester's goal is to become a lawyer so that she can advocate for the welfare of children.

Despite the fullness of her life -- or perhaps because of it -- Tester attends church every Wednesday evening and at least two Sunday mornings a month.

"This is my only down time that I allow myself," she explains. "It's a time for quiet, with no books, a time to think about something besides class stuff. It helps when I'm there. It forces me to slow down. It puts my mind at ease. If I'm worried that everything won't get done, I leave there feeling like 'of course it will.' I feel better, less panicky, when I leave. That's why I love going on Wednesday nights -- in the middle of the week. This helps me deal with everything. I let God take everything I have and not worry about it."

Monette says she found similar comfort in a church connection when she was a student at Hobart and William Smith. "The college's chaplain was an Episcopal priest so it was easy for me, as an Episcopalian, to relate to her. I think that this was an outlet for social friendship for me. I went to school without knowing anyone on campus. The chaplain helped provide a safe community to be a part of and to fit in. She also pushed me to grow into an adult faith."

What is my work? Who will be my partners?

For Tester and Monette, as for many young people, the spiritual nurturing that is part of their college and post-college lives is essential. As Sharon Daloz Parks explains in her book, Common Fire: Leading Lives of Commitment in a Complex World, young adults face two central questions: What is my work? Who will be my partners? By "work," Parks explains, "we do not mean simply a job or a career but rather a sense of one's calling -- born from some reflection on life's purpose. Whether or not one is college-bound, the task of young adulthood is to find and be found by a viable 'life dream' -- and to go to work on it."

The church could play a crucial role in helping young people, many of whom are on college campuses, grow up into a competent adulthood, says Jackie Schmitt, the Episcopal chaplain at Northwestern University in Evanston, Ill.

"The pressures of this culture and this time and what is going on with young people," Schmitt says, "underscore why it is so important for the church to be involved with people 18 to 25. With the fractured lives people lead, with economic pressures and pressures from the Internet, this is even more important now than ever."

Helping young people figure out who they will be also determines what the church will be. For without younger voices, the church loses. Says Schmitt, "Those who are 18 to 25 are on the cusp of cultural change. They lead the way. Merchandisers know this. Without young adults, we are stuck in the past, rather than being in today."

'I am not my parents'

David Gortner, a doctoral candidate in psychology and human development at the University of Chicago, and an adult minister at St. Marks in Evanston, directs a research project in clergy leadership at Seabury-Western Theological Seminary. "Young adults," he says, "have a tendency to distantiate -- to put up a hand and say that I am not that, to identify as distinct from something else. For instance, a young person might say, 'I am not my parents,' or 'I am not the community where I grew up.' But young adults are also searching for a place where they do belong. They are trying to figure out 'Who am I?' and 'What am I called to do?' and 'What is my life purpose?' Unfortunately, religion -- mainline religion -- has often failed to provide an avenue for young adults to explore."

For over five years, Gortner has studied models of young adult ministry. He researched 12 communities that offer young adult ministry and he conducted interviews with 60 to 70 others. The research was interdenominational -- Episcopal as well as other protestant denominations, Catholic, Jewish and Muslim. Gortner explains, "Young adults in most mainline denominations simply aren't coming to church and the reasons they cite are these: 'I don't feel welcome' and 'it doesn't seem relevant.' This reflects on the institutional church.

"The communities I looked at are in the denomination but they are on the fringes of those denominations, not at the center. For instance, in Walnut Creek, California, there was a failure on the part of the university chaplaincy to reach out to young adults. Young adults, then, took things into their own hands and formed a community called Mosaic. The diocese supports this but Mosaic is on the fringes of the work that the diocese does.

"Mosaic was given backing and space by the church even though many of the young adults who attend are not members of the church or even of the denomination. They gather on Tuesday evenings. The worship is non-prayerbook. Discussion is frank and honest about life issues and how those meet their faith.

"For many, this was their only faith community, their only church. Others belonged to different churches."

Gortner has identified models or patterns for successful young adult ministry. He notes that "they differ depending on what is being emphasized, but each is viable and each is viable within the Episcopal Church.

"One approach involves teaching and life application of belief and values. Another approach emphasizes relationships. Yet another approach uses more modern media. Some approaches are ultra-traditional. Others are not. There are a wide variety of ministries to which young adults are drawn.

"The majority," says Gortner, "entered through relationships with other people. For the most part, in almost every case, young adults came to worship through interactions with others."

Most important, continues Gortner, "is that people are welcomed with open arms and not expected to sign on the dotted line to join the church. These communities are offering something relevant, experiential and welcoming that leads people to find them, leads people to come back, to convert, and to discover a new depth of faith."

Adult, not 'young adult'

Younger adults seek a great deal of independence and freedom in their faith experiences. They also make it clear that they do not want to be treated as youth and that they do not want a youth group. That is, they do not want activities that are run by staff people. Nor do they want activities at all. They do not want to be entertained or to be programmed. Instead, they want to find each other.

Rachel Roberson, a 27-year old college graduate who now lives in San Francisco, spent two years with the Peace Corps in Cameroon. Active in Northwestern's Canterbury House when she was a journalism student there, she was ready to join a parish when she returned to the states.

"I chose to focus on ministry on the parish level and to do what everyone else does." She works as a lay preacher, helps to lead a youth group and volunteers to teach English as a Second Language at a school run by San Francisco's Church of the Incarnation.

"As an adult, I didn't feel like I needed 'young adult activities.' I wondered, when does this 'young adult' label end? When you marry, have kids, are 40? As a young person, I do sometimes feel that I have a credibility problem -- not only in church but everywhere. Still, I want to be seen as an adult. For me, the decision to remain at church is a personal one that is related to the community I am in right now. My faith, my relationship with God, remains very personal. These aren't things I talk a lot about even at church. These are almost separate from my church community. But I love my community."

Ultimately, the shape of a worship community needs to be determined by the community itself. If younger adults are to be part of the community, they must help shape it. This is something that Mary Hileman has learned during her 11-and-a-half years as a campus minister at the Canterbury Center at Oklahoma University in Stillwater, Oklahoma.

Her work involves, as she puts it, "developing communities where students can plug in. This means providing communities for people who are at a similar spot in their lives. We need to always ask, what would you like to do? How can I as a chaplain help you reach out to the community and facilitate your spiritual growth?"

For instance, after asking students what they needed, the Canterbury Center at Oklahoma began offering a course on Christian meditation. The center also provides opportunities for fellowship and community building, from a weekly soup-and-noonday-prayer gathering -- for faculty, staff and students -- to graduate-student and undergraduate fellowship and potluck dinners.

"Our work," Hileman explains, "is a collaboration between student interests and my commitment to spiritual formation, to helping young adults learn what it means to live an involved life.

"I don't do a lot of programming anymore but I facilitate students taking a leadership role. This is crucial. Programming for students doesn't work. Empowering students to be Christ's presence in the world is the purpose for chaplaincy these days."

NatGat

The belief that young adults need to lead their own spiritual development underlies the National Student Gathering (NatGat) sponsored every two years by the Episcopal Church's national office of ministries with young people.

"The gathering, which is organized by young people, is a place for questing, for looking and listening to God," explains Thom Chu, director of the national young adult ministries office. "We design an opportunity for people to know each other in a deep way. People make new soul friends from faraway -- and that really last."

Chu recalls the first NatGat gathering he attended in 1985. "I was a first-year student at Columbia, and I got a really deep understanding of what baptism means. To be in that space with so many other young people who wanted to know God changed my life. I've worked for the Episcopal Church almost since then."

Chu sees NatGat as a place that "gives young adults a chance to develop their own sense of what it means to be in community. They learn to express that in an indigenous way that is true to who they are. Of course, it's a temporary experience, set in a particular time and when it's over, it's over. Yet it builds new relationships and important memories."

Amber York, a 22-year old college junior taking time off from college as she transfers from the University of Maryland to a school in Michigan, where she lives with her family, was one of the 10 or 12 young adults on the NatGat planning committee. The theme, based on a passage from Isaiah, was "Behold! I'm about to do a new thing."

Wanting to address the spiritual needs of 18 to 25 year olds, York says the NatGat planning committee made sure the gathering, which took place in Estes Park, Colo., would provide an opportunity for participants to get away from home and to become clearer about who they are and how to make their own place in the world. The gathering, says York, was "anything you wanted it to be. There were resources for spiritual guidance and resources about doing campus ministry or information about jobs you could get working with the church after college. There were so many resources and you could grab whatever you wanted. Or you could chill out and look at the mountains and realize how wonderful creation is.

"It was a wonderful experience -- literally mountaintop, you know?" l

Camille Colatosti is The Witness' staff writer. She teaches English at Detroit's Hampton University and lives in Hamtramck, Mich.

Making a home for 'Doubters Anonymous'

"Hi, my name is Ruth Monette and I'm the Lay Minister for Episcopal Campus Ministry at the University of Southern California." So begin the 20 or so e-mails I send out over the summer to incoming freshmen who have identified themselves as Episcopalians. I go on to tell them about Canterbury (the common name of Episcopal campus ministries across the nation), about religious life at USC, and hope that some of them will actually respond. In college, even the most active youth sometimes fail to find room, in an ever-increasingly busy schedule, to maintain their connections to church. Many of them will feel they are maintaining their personal relationships with God, without the clutter of the institutional church and all its problems. Others will find that the faith that made so much sense in their childhood and teenage years no longer makes sense -- sometimes it happens slowly and other times all in a rush. Classes and friends from a diversity of religious backgrounds (and no religious background at all) can shake a student's certainty about their own faith.

I know all this not only because the students tell me so, but also because I lived it. I was raised as an Episcopalian and began to make my home in the church as a youth. As a teenager in the Diocese of Indianapolis, I traveled to Mexico and Ecuador with mission trips, participated in the national Episcopal Youth Event, and worked on leadership teams for annual diocesan youth conferences and Happenings. I chose a college where I could continue my involvement with the Episcopal Church -- Hobart and William Smith Colleges in Geneva, N.Y.

I credit my college chaplain with the fact that I'm still here, still a part of the Episcopal Church. I had the moments when none of what I grew up believing made any sense, when I could not say the creeds with honesty. I spent the fall of my junior year in Bath, England, and only went inside churches for tours. When I could not believe, when I had more doubt than faith, I still found comfort in the rituals of liturgy. Because my chaplain had already introduced me to The Center for Progressive Christianity (in Cambridge, Mass.), I knew she took my doubt seriously. I also knew it was all right for me to participate in chapel services, even with all my questions still unanswered.

After my graduation in June of 1999, I came to the University of Southern California as the Assistant Chaplain (as part of the Episcopal Urban Internship program, see page 28). In August of 2000, I was promoted to Lay Minister. I work with an ordained priest who is completing a Ph.D. program while working half-time with the chaplaincy and half-time with two local parishes.

With a student leadership team of four to five students, we run a very active campus ministry. Religious life at USC is overseen by a Dean of Religious Life who formally recognizes student religious groups and religious directors. The Episcopal Campus Ministry is one of nearly 50 student religious groups -- including Baha'i, Buddhist, Hindu, Muslim, Jewish, Sikh, Taoist, Pagan and many Christian groups. Within the context of all that diversity, making a home for "seekers" is a special part of what Canterbury USC does. In one-on-one conversations, we affirm students' questions and challenge them to think through them. In groups -- such as the Lenten series "Doubters Anonymous" -- we nurture students' need to apply their academic critical thinking skills to their spiritual lives. -- Ruth Monette

Looking for life beyond this 'best of all possible worlds'

Work hard, play hard. At Dartmouth, that's the ticket to success, exactly what I was looking for when I came here four years ago. Though initially hoping for an Ivy League utopia of learning, I soon was caught up in the myth that success equaled "the good life." Investment bankers, management consultants, corporate lawyers -- these were the successful alumni, earning plenty of money to be comfortable, with the right house and clothes and car, exotic vacations and plenty leftover to donate back to their alma mater!

It seemed great, and I went on working hard in the classroom, earning A's and academic citations, stressing out to prove myself good enough, smart enough. Others were working hard to play hard, dying to perform in the social sphere where beer pong and random hookups and the humiliation of Greek pledge rituals masked a deep yearning for community, connection and true friends.

Still confused about everything, I spent sophomore fall at the university in St. Petersburg, Russia. On my daily walk downtown after classes, I passed by old women with cardboard signs around their necks, beggars on the streets crying out, "Pomogite!" Help. I thought of Jesus' Sermon on the Plain: "Give to those who beg from you." Simple enough, I was making excuses. When I realized that my lunch at the Russian edition of Pizza Hut could have fed a family for a week, I began to confront the elitism, entitlement, and exclusivity which Dartmouth had bred in me. Isolated in the hills of New Hampshire, everything from movie tickets to late-night pizza, health care to mocha lattes were instantly available with the swipe of an ID card, and I'd begun to see that as normal and to lose sight of life beyond this "best of all possible worlds."

The face of the homeless beggars had become too much to bear, and so one day I detoured from my usual route to avoid them, crossing the street through an underground tunnel and "passing by on the other side." I instantly saw myself as the Levite and priest in the parable of the Good Samaritan. Things changed forever.

From then on I resolved to take some risks, to listen and look for God more closely in what Mother Teresa called "distressing disguises." In Petersburg, it was an old woman who, upon my small gift of money and a bit of time, held my hand and cried, praying for me. On the streets of Boston, during an immersion program on street ministry, it was Matthew, a man homeless after losing his job for standing up to injustice in the workplace. "I asked myself," he said, "'What would Rosa Parks do? What would Dietrich Bonhoeffer do? What would Martin Luther King, Jr. do? What would Jesus do?'"

This past December, during a research trip in Mostar, Bosnia-Hercegovina, the children of this multi-ethnic city recovering from civil war and genocide painted a series of murals on what was the front line. Some were impressionistic nature scenes, the Simpsons or Beavis and Butthead. But in the center, right below the window opening of a high school out of which women were publicly raped during the war was an image of the Crucifixion. The text in English reads: "Jesus, come back, please!" [See photo, page 5.]

I find that plea for life back on the Dartmouth campus, too, where I work now as lay chaplain to The Edge, our Episcopal campus ministry. A wonderful job far from the "success" I expected four years ago. Here I meet Jesus in students struggling to "get a life" of their own in a place where conformity is often the cost of acceptance. Our work at The Edge to create an alternative, open community, with true common prayer and common table, is marked and shaped by these kinds of experiences of God outside the traditional boundaries of church.

Each week students from The Edge tutor kids at a low-income housing project. One afternoon, when I was playing outside with a bunch of the boys and getting frustrated by the chaos of yelling profanities, the re-enactment of WWF wrestling, and bikes crashing into each other, one of the fourth-graders came up to me and said, clear as day: "Come, follow me."

Leaving behind the pressures of academic and social performance, I've come to find life by finding God in unexpected places. I can follow that fourth-grader into the wonder and horror of his world. I can follow Matthew into the streets of his Boston. Nourished by the prayers of that beggar in St. Petersburg, in the midst of injustice and hopelessness I can cry out with the anonymous painter in Bosnia. Come, Lord Jesus. -- Joshua M. Thomas

'These four years I have experienced community like I never have before'

This spring I am graduating from Eastern Mennonite University (EMU), having majored for a few years in International Agriculture and finishing with Justice, Peace, and Conflict Studies (JPCS). I came to Virginia's Shenandoah Valley looking forward to living with Mennonites who were pacifists, lived simply, and strove for justice -- all according to Jesus' example. I came looking for a home that I had not found as a transient military kid, nor as an Episcopalian. I came looking for people like me -- passionate about treating everyone fairly, no matter what their economic or social status, nationality, gender, or any other characteristics, and passionate about living a real relationship with God. I expected Mennonite anti-nationalism and a desire for social justice to coincide with broad liberal ideas. I found most of what I came looking for, but my learning curve has been steep to correct my rosy view of reality.

Nonviolence, simplicity and justice only matter in relationships. These four years I have experienced community like I never have before. The word has become cliché, but I have begun to learn the deep complexity of the reality within "community." It has been excruciatingly painful, exhausting, comforting, joyous and energizing. And the times I have learned the most about what it means to live in community -- within relationships that really matter -- have been when my growing community has failed my expectations. Not all Mennonites take their pacifism seriously or have conscientiously thought it through. And the same with living simply. Discovering this was disappointing, but not earthshaking. However, living in the reality of a community of people who do not view justice the same has radically changed my idealistic view of "living in community."

While very focused on justice for the poor, hungry and imprisoned (see Matt. 25:35-36), the general EMU community has been on the conservative end of justice issues that are close to me. Using inclusive language and images of God, ordaining women as full ministers in God's church and seeking justice for people of diverse sexual identities have been crucial parts of my spiritual formation. Studying, learning, playing and worshiping with people who believe that God is masculine because that is what the Bible says, or women should not be ordained to ministry, or that LGBT people should not be full members of churches has been very difficult. Sitting with people who know and love me, but who do not believe that I should be a full member in their church because I love women, has challenged my concept of how a healthy community functions. However, I cannot simply write these people off as uncaring because I experience their love for me in a very real way. I know that their questions are part of their own deep search for God's Way.

As in every community, there are those who advocate for me as well as those who question me. I have found a community of people who are like-minded, but they do not comprise the entire community as I had naively thought they would when I entered college. Living and interacting honestly amongst ALL these different people who have become so dear to me has become my working definition of true community. It is both harder and more life-giving than anything I imagined.

After graduation, I am leaving this place and this time in my life to join the community of the Lutheran Volunteer Corps. I'm looking forward to getting away from the definitions this beloved EMU community has placed on me, and to start fresh where no one knows me. But I'm still moving on to build a new community that is sure to be complete with its own definitions and boxes. I find that even with the mess and pain, my life's meaning is in walking with people as they question and live, and knowing that people are walking with me.-- Rachel Orville