I've been teaching 7th Grade for two and a half weeks now. I've had a tumultuous start to the school year. I've faced difficulties in various ways. In this particular classroom, there are huge gaps in reading and writing skills, familiarity with vocabulary, ability to focus, and in many other areas. Although there are many other challenges, I'll leave it at that for now.
Amidst all of these difficulties, I've repeatedly felt ill-equipped for this venture. I've been most concerned at reaching those of the students who are struggling to learn, especially in the context of trying to reach them while I'm simultaneously trying to teach more gifted students. I've been facing these challenges in the context of suspecting that I am better suited to other types of educational work. Upon expressing this suspicion to one of the Brothers of the Christian Schools with whom I live, he reminded me, as a way of helping me to see the need to do the work I am called to do right now, "Christ is in those children." That is to say, he was echoing, paraphrasing and summarizing a dialogue which, at Matthew 25:34-40, Jesus said that He will have with certain people after they die. Jesus will say,
'Come, you
who are blessed by my Father. Inherit the kingdom prepared for you from
the foundation of the world.
For I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me drink, a stranger and you welcomed me,
naked and you clothed me, ill and you cared for me, in prison and you visited me.'
Then the righteous will answer him and say, 'Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you drink? When did we see you a stranger and welcome you, or naked and clothe you? When did we see you ill or in prison, and visit you?'
And the king will say to them in reply, 'Amen, I say to you, whatever
you did for one of these least brothers of mine, you did for me.'
I have long tried to keep these Scripture verses prominent in my mind. I have tried to let these verses guide what I do, who I choose to help, and how I choose to help them. It has long been very important to me to aid poor persons, and to do so as well as I can. Thus when this Brother reminded me that Christ is in these children, I was distraught at the probability that I would not be teaching all of these students as well as they need to be instructed.
Often I hear justice described as persons being accorded their human rights, being given what they need to develop to their full potential. I've long regarded education as a human right; I've long considered it crucial to someone reaching his or her full potential.
Always justice is defined as all persons receiving their due. Everyone, regardless of their social standing and economic status, are entitled to what they require to grow. Impoverished persons must get what they need.
Thus, being reminded that Christ is in these children, whilst simultaneously knowing that they must receive the best education they can get, and while also feeling ill-equipped to reach all of them, I was extremely distressed. I was so upset that I thought that I wouldn't wish such angst upon my worst enemy. At times when I was praying, I was weeping into my own lap, begging God for forgiveness for how I would not be educating these children the way they deserve to be taught.
I prayed repeatedly and persistently. However, I was not praying obediently and openly; I was not praying for what I needed to do the duty set before me. Rather, I was praying narrow-mindedly, seeking an escape. I was seeking to relinquish the reins which had been handed to me. And I was repeating these petitions, rejecting my duty, in sets of three, over and over.
On a following day, once I was back at the school, at one point I was sitting at the back of the classroom while one of the other teachers taught a lesson. As I sat looking over the children, into my mind came the phrase, "Take care of my sheep." The children are God's sheep, to be instructed in His ways. I realized that I was being told to care for them and nourish them so that they will be brought up in ways such that they will come to live lives which will be pleasing to Him. I took it as a response to the insistent prayers I had recently sent up to God.
Later that day, after we had eaten lunch, the students were exercising in the gym right after lunch, as they always do. As I walked along the side of the basketball court, looking out at the children exercising, kicking soccer balls, punching volleyballs into the air, and throwing basketballs at the baskets, again I was instructed. Into my mind again came the phrase, "Take care of my sheep."
This time the phrase hit me with a poignancy which I had not felt the first time because I had not been aware of the full extent of its meaning. I had not realized how I was being rehabilitated, because I had not realized how I had fallen.
Once I heard the phrase the second time, in its repetition, I recognized its rehabilitative effect upon me because the repetition echoed its repetitive use in Scripture. To draw back and provide a fuller, more appropriate context, first let us revisit the night when Jesus was betrayed and handed over to the authorities who tried Him and sentenced Him to be crucified.
Jesus had explained to Saint Peter relatively early that night that he would betray Him. As is recounted at Matthew 26:34-35,
Jesus said to him, "Truly, I tell you, this very night, before the rooster crows, you will deny me three times." Peter said to him, "Even if I must die with you, I will not deny you!"
Later that night, after Jesus had been arrested, Peter had followed Jesus to the building where the council was meeting where He was being tried. As is described at Matthew 26:69-75,
Peter was sitting outside in the courtyard. And a servant girl came up to him and said, “You also were with Jesus the Galilean." But he denied it before them all, saying, "I do not know what you mean." And when he went out to the entrance, another servant girl saw him, and she said to the bystanders, "This man was with Jesus of Nazareth." And again he denied it with an oath: "I do not know the man." After a little while the bystanders came up and said to Peter, "Certainly you too are one of them, for your accent betrays you." Then he began to invoke a curse on himself and to swear, "I do not know the man." And immediately the rooster crowed. And Peter remembered the saying of Jesus, "Before the rooster crows, you will deny me three times." And he went out and wept bitterly.
Countless times, in thinking about how Saint Peter had denied Jesus, I thought, "This is all well and good, but, quite simply put, I will never deny Christ. It just will never happen. I am never going to do that."
However, I have not yet fully related all of the Scripture passages which will give the full context for how I felt when I heard the repetitive reply to my insistently disobedient prayers. I felt distress at hearing the repetitive answer not because the above Scripture passages reminded me of the similarity of my denial of Christ with Saint Peter's denial of Christ. Rather, I felt dismayed because the repetitive reply to my persistently disobedient prayers echoed another Scripture passage; in being reminded of this next Scripture passage, I was made aware that I had denied Christ.
After Jesus was crucified, and after he then rose from the dead, He appeared to His disciples. At one point he met them on a beach. They ate together. As is related at John 21:15-17:
When they had finished breakfast, Jesus said to Simon Peter, "Simon, son of John, do you love me more than these?" He said to him, "Yes, Lord; you know that I love you." He said to him, "Feed my lambs." He said to him a second time, "Simon, son of John, do you love me?" He said to him, "Yes, Lord; you know that I love you." He said to him, "Tend my sheep." He said to him the third time, "Simon, son of John, do you love me?" Peter was grieved because he said to him the third time, "Do you love me?" and he said to him, "Lord, you know everything; you know that I love you." Jesus said to him, "Feed my sheep."
In asking Peter three times if he loved Him, Jesus was rehabilitating him. In effect, Jesus was freeing Peter of having denied Him three times.
Thus, in hearing the words, "Take care of my sheep" the second time, I became aware that I was in need of being rehabilitated. I became aware that in how I had asked to be freed of these, my present, duties toward these children in whom Jesus Christ is present, I had been denying Jesus. Jesus had even forewarned me that I would deny Him, and still I insisted that I would not. He had given me the Scripture passage in which He had told Peter that Peter would deny Him, and in which Peter insisted that he would not deny Him. Through these Scripture passages, He had already predicted that I would deny Him, and I too had insisted that I would not deny Him. And I had indeed denied Him by seeking to be free of these, my present duties.
Thus, when I was there in the gym, when I heard in my head the words "Take care of my sheep" the second time that day, I was reminded of how Peter wept bitterly when he realized he had denied Jesus three times. My eyes began to well up. I thought, "I cannot weep here and now. That would be inappropriate. I cannot think about this right now."
You might be able to predict what happened next. The Lord is faithful to those who love Him, and will come to those who faithfully seek Him, and will take care of them. Next I heard in my head again the words, "Take care of my sheep." Again my eyes began to well up. Again I thought, " I cannot cry here and now. I cannot think about this right now."
Later, speaking further with that same Brother, the one who had reminded me that Jesus is in these children, he addressed my concerns. Responding to how I felt ill-equipped, he noted that Saint Peter was charged with being The Rock upon which Christ built His Church, yet Peter was merely a fisherman. Saint Peter could have seen himself as being unqualified to do what Christ had called him to do, yet he accepted the vocation to which God had called him.
That same Brother also noted that he could see Jesus laughing. The Brother suggested that perhaps Jesus was saying about me, "Here he is asking for forgiveness, when he's doing the very thing that I have been calling him to do!" At that I laughed. Perhaps I was laughing at my own stubbornness, at my insistence upon perceiving myself at being unable.
Some time ago I read that the duty to God is contained in the present moment. I have been trying to live my life in a way which reflects that truth. I have been attempting to internalize that sentiment, such that hopefully my life provides an example of following one's present duty.
In the midst of trying to accept and perform my present duty, I have felt overwhelmed by all that I am being called to do. On certain school days, I have felt overloaded. Feeling unable to process everything that has been required of me, I have felt at times that I have been shutting down. Conversely, at other times, I have felt pressed beyond my limits. Consequently, this past Friday, I felt that I was on the path to going thermonuclear, in terms of responding to problematic scenarios in ways which would not reflect magnanimous patience, but which would rather be reflective of having too short of a fuse. In such tendencies resurfacing in me as of late, I am reminded that I have wished to write here that I do not wish to deceive anyone. Therefore, I will put it bluntly: I am no saint. The events of the last month bear such witness, full of evidence showing unfortunate tendencies in me, showing me up as the weak creature that I am.
Exhausted and drained, feeling like I had no resources with which to enable me to respond to situations appropriately, yesterday I went to noontime Mass downtown at St. Peter's in the Loop. After Mass, I entered the confession booth. My voice a gravelly, monotone drawl, I related to the priest how I had regressed, how I had started reacting to challenges in ways I thought I had shed years ago. I definitely appreciated how he was sympathetic; he shared how he understood such challenges, given how he too used to teach. He directed me to pray for the grace and the strength from God to empower me to do His will, to do this work which He has called me to do.
I left the Church and made my way to Wrigley Field, where I bought a ticket to watch the Cubs play the Braves from the upper deck. I'd arrived at the park so early that I took a walk. I got a slice of deep dish pizza at a restaurant I'd patronized on a visit to Chicago 6 years ago. Then I went to a cafe and got a cupcake and a glass of milk. Feeling ill-equipped for the challenges I face, I wept as I sat there in that cafe and ate my cupcake. I headed back to the stadium. While I purposely went to the game in an attempt to do something fun, I didn't have as much fun as I felt I could have had; I was preoccupied with the challenges facing me.
At one point in the last few days, I thought of "The Serenity Prayer," as it is often called. For those of you who don't know it, in that prayer, one implores God, "God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference." I believe that an angel or a saint or the Holy Spirit shared with me that because I am teaching middle schoolers, they are going to misbehave. Being human beings, and more specifically, being early adolescents, they simply are going to misbehave. Here is simply stated a fact. However, at the same time, I can--indeed, I must--deal with such misbehavior. God grant me the serenity to accept their nature, and the courage to help them, and the wisdom to know when each is called for.
Such was one helpful train of thought I recently have had. This morning, however, I received inordinately helpful guidance, direction which illuminates and steers me simultaneously in multiple ways, overlapping with a synchronicity which seems brilliant, yet is also beautifully, strikingly exquisite in its simplicity.
This morning as always, upon waking I read the Bible. I chose to read Matthew 5 for its particular emphasis on encouragement in the face of adversity. Initially I had thought it would be most helpful since, at the beginning of that chapter, the Beatitudes offer such strengthening counsel. Yet I received enlightening guidance once I reached the end of the chapter. At Matthew 5:43-48, Jesus explains,
You have heard that it was said, 'You shall love your neighbor and hate your enemy.' But I say to you, Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, so that you may be sons of your Father who is in heaven. For He makes His sun rise on the evil and on the good, and sends rain on the just and on the unjust. For if you love those who love you, what reward do you have? Do not even the tax collectors do the same? And if you greet only your brothers, what more are you doing than others? Do not even the Gentiles do the same? You therefore must be perfect, as your heavenly Father is perfect.
Right after I read these words, I thought, "Another similar statement could be, 'If you only do what you want to do, what credit is that to you? For even the worst of sinners do that! Murderers and thieves do only what they want to do." And then the necessary following implication sprung into my head, "You must do more than that. You must do the will of your Father, who is in heaven. And usually that requires doing what you do not wish to do."
Next I realized that this line of thinking applies not only to what I am called to do presently, in my current duties. I realized that it also applies to what I am being called to do after this current year. In attempting to discern what I'll do after this current year, I've been reading a book entitled "Discerning the Will of God: An Ignatian Guide to Christian Decision Making" by a priest named Father Timothy Gallagher. In it, Father Gallagher describes how one must be willing to do whatever God is calling one to do, even if it might not be what one initially envisions for oneself. Indeed, most likely God is calling each of us to a vocation which we don't at first foresee. When I read this portion of the book, I despaired, and essentially thought that I might as well give up on trying to discern what God wants me to do after this year, since, I felt, I didn't have the requisite mindset to be able to discern His will. I was too resistant to my life looking too different from how I'd been imagining it. I hadn't been willing to do whatever He truly wants me to do--even if it is a vocation I might not have been wanting to undertake. He calls us to be productive in ways we might not choose if left to our own devices.
Next I thought that essentially God has been asking me, both in my current duties, as well as in my discernment for what will come after this year, "Can you please be productive, even though you don't want to be?" At the school where I am teaching, when a student is not behaving properly, we ask the student, "Can you please be productive, even though you don't want to be?"
At the school, I've been finding myself unable to cope with these childrens' inability to focus. Yet given my inability to focus on what God wants me to do, now, and into the future, how can I lose my patience with these children? How can I refuse to see past their transgressions, when I simultaneously, and thus quite impossibly, ask God to forgive my sins? This I know would not happen, as Jesus tells us, right after instructing us to say the Lord's Prayer, he tells us, at Matthew 6:14-15,
"For if you forgive others their trespasses, your heavenly Father will also forgive you, but if you do not forgive others their trespasses, neither will your Father forgive your trespasses."
Suddenly it all became clear to me. I saw that amongst my duties, I must ask these children to be productive. In following my instructions, and in following my request to do what they might not want at first to do, they will provide to me the example I need. They will teach me how to follow God's instructions. They will teach me to also be productive even though at first I might not have wanted to do so.
Do not think that teaching is the most important thing that I have come to do. I am to ask these students simple questions. Most important among the things I have come to do is to cultivate, and, I do humbly pray, prepare fertile ground in their minds, hearts and souls. There the Holy Spirit will do the most important teaching. I am not fit to untie the sandal strap on Him who will do the most important work here.
I have come not only to teach. I have come also to be taught. I aspire that in all humility, I may be fertile ground, Lord, for what you have to teach me, and for how you are to shape me. Lord, let it be done to me not as I will, but as You will. I am the servant of the Lord. Let it be done to me as You say. Amen. 