Franciscan at Home

“Walking with,” commonly referred to as “accompaniment,” is a critical aspect of discipleship. And while it’s one of the new buzzwords these days, I’m not sure those who use it always understand what the word exactly means. Pope Francis has used it many times, particularly in his statements and writings to young people. For example, we hear him say in Evangelii Gaudium (“The Joy of the Gospel”), “The Church will have to initiate everyone—priests, religious and laity—into this ‘art of accompaniment’ which teaches us to remove our sandals before the sacred ground of the other. The pace of this accompaniment must be steady and reassuring, reflecting our closeness and our compassionate gaze which also heals, liberates and encourages growth in the Christian life.”[1]

What exactly does accompaniment mean? I had an experience a long time ago during my single young adult years. At the time, I was living with a family with small children. One night, the parents were trying to get their five-year-old down for bed. Instead of going to sleep, the young girl kept coming up with all kinds of “needs”—one more drink, one more story, one more hug and kiss, etc. I had trouble not laughing as her poor father kept getting more and more frustrated with her pleas. Finally, in a hopeful and exasperated attempt, her dad grabbed the crucifix off the wall in the family room and brought it into her room. He laid the cross on her bed, prayed with her, and asked Jesus to be with her in a special way and help her go to sleep. My eyebrows raised as I watched the scene; that was a good idea, I thought. I was taking notes for my eventual parenting days. But I’m not sure any of us could have guessed what would happen next. After almost 15 minutes of silence, we heard from her room:

“Daddy?”

“What?!” her father replied.

“I need someone with some skin on.”

As frustrating as the whole experience was for her parents, that five-year-old might have come up with one of the best definitions for accompaniment I have ever heard. The spiritual life needs human accompaniment precisely because we are not divine. Despite all the great riches of truth, Scripture, doctrine, and belief, without other human beings most of us would struggle to know exactly how to put all those riches into practice in our day-to-day lives. Some of that accompaniment can be “virtual” or indirect, as when we are accompanied by the saints—holy men and women whose lives we hear about or words we read. But a large part of it needs to be personal and direct, meaning from a real person who is walking beside us and modeling for us how they are living out the faith.

Accompaniment has been a popular topic in catechesis for the past several years, and rightfully so. The Directory for Catechesis lists “accompanier” as one of the primary roles of the catechist, adding, “the catechist is an expert in the art of accompaniment.”[1] In his apostolic exhortation Evangelii Gaudium (“The Joy of the Gospel”), Pope Francis defines accompaniment as a process of walking with the other, listening, and leading others “ever closer to God.”[2] The image of walking together is a particularly salient one as we think about children’s catechesis, since children (especially young children) often literally walk hand-in-hand with an adult in most places, especially unfamiliar ones. We walk with children for a variety of reasons: we want to make sure they go in the right direction and don’t get lost along the way; we want them to feel safe; we want to make sure they don’t miss things that will form them and excite their imaginations. But most of all, we walk with children because we love them, and we know that people grow best when that growth occurs in the context of relationship.

Getting to Know You

How can catechists of children walk with young people in a spiritual sense as they are formed in the faith? One way is by getting to know our learners. Look for resources on the cognitive, social, moral, and spiritual development of children in the age group you teach. This information, which can sometimes be found in the catechist manual accompanying a religious education curriculum, can offer a starting point for understanding the thinking and developmental needs of your learners.

Even as we understand what’s typical for children at a particular age, it’s important to remember that every child is different and to get to know the individual child. Listening to the individual experiences, hopes, dreams, and interests of our learners can help us present the faith as relevant to their lives. It might be helpful to begin each session with icebreaker questions or games that allow learners to share something about themselves and their interests. Think of questions that begin with phrases like, “Tell about a time when you . . .” or “What is your favorite . . .” In today’s hectic and noisy world, too often we fail to take time with one another, to listen without worrying about what we will say next. Accompanying children means sitting with them, listening to the words they speak, and reflecting on the feelings behind the words. It means recognizing what a gift we are being given when little ones trust us with their stories. It means being present to children as a reminder that God is present with them.

In his apostolic exhortation Evangelii Gaudium (“The Joy of the Gospel”), Pope Francis urged the Church to practice the “art of accompaniment.”[1] But what does this mean, and how do we do it? As others have noted, we have a model of accompaniment in our Lord’s appearance on the road to Emmaus (Lk 24:13–35).[2] When the two disciples were walking away from Jerusalem, their hopes dashed at the foot of the Cross, Jesus accompanied them on the way: he listened to them, he asked questions, and, eventually, he challenged them and shared the Gospel with them.

What does this mean for us catechists, priests, and teachers who sometimes meet people who are disillusioned and moving “away from Jerusalem”—away from Christian life? How can we help them? Where do we start? Like Christ on the road to Emmaus, we accompany them: we meet them where they are, we enter their lives, we listen to them, and we ask them questions. But also, like Christ, we accompany them toward a destination, so that, with minds enlightened and hearts set aflame by the Gospel, they may “return to Jerusalem” and live in the power of Christ’s Resurrection. Thus, Christian accompaniment requires a clear sense of our “destination,” and, in particular, a clear understanding of the nature of Christian faith.

In what follows, I briefly outline the nature of Christian faith (as distinguished from “natural faith”), describe its grandeur and demands, and offer some consequences for our ministry.

Who am I, really? What makes me who I am? And how much do other people affect who I become? These perennial questions reflect the fact that we are deeply affected by things around us, especially by other people. In some ways, our surroundings helped make us better people, and in other ways, worse. Whether for better or worse, we can wonder who we would be without these influences in our life. It seems hard to argue against how impactful our relationships are, and it raises the question of just how much our relationships define us.

Our Image and Likeness

The search for our own identity goes hand-in-hand with who God is. The Trinity is “the source of all other mysteries, the light that enlightens them,” which includes our own mystery (CCC 234). However, the Trinity is anything but easy to understand, and attempts to resolve the mystery neatly have resulted in numerous heresies in the Church’s history. How can a God whose identity is beyond human understanding or expression help us understand ourselves? How can the unfathomable essence of God help us fathom who we are?

As mysterious as the Trinity is, the Church’s dogma makes one thing clear: our triune God is a relational God. When two things are in relationship with each other, it means that their existence and identities are intertwined. In this sense, none of the persons of the Trinity can be separated from the others (see CCC 255). The Father cannot be apart from the Son, nor the Son apart from the Father, nor the Holy Spirit apart from either.[1] At the same time, a relationship implies distinguishability; it is not possible to say something is unique if there are no differences to tell it apart from something else. The persons of the Trinity are essentially united, but each is distinguished by their relation to each other (see CCC 254–55). The Father is who he is because of the Son, and vice versa. The Holy Spirit is who he is because he is the Spirit of the Father and the Son.[2] To put this more simply, the relationship each person of the Trinity has to the others is both unitive and distinctive: their relationships simultaneously describe their union and their distinction.

Created in God’s image and likeness, human persons bear a certain similarity to the relationality of the divine persons.[3] Being distinct persons, we are nonetheless made for unity. Pope St. John Paul II observes that all human reality can be understood through the lens of relationship. In fact, everything in our lives is composed of four fundamental relationships: with God, with oneself, with others, and with the rest of creation.[4] Sin is ruptured relationship, and reconciliation is its repair. The first sin in Eden is a loss of friendship, and it is echoed in all human strife and injustice.[5] Salvation history, on the other hand, “is the wonderful history of a reconciliation,” a restoration of friendship.[6] Notwithstanding the immense difference between the divine persons and us, we are also constituted by relationships.

“The harvest is abundant but the laborers are few” (Mt 9:37). As youth ministers, there is so much to do. Youth group is on Wednesday, parent meeting on Thursday, parish festival this weekend, the website needs an update, the copier is jammed, the admin needs help with Canva, volunteer formation night next week, and the liability forms for the retreat need to go out. Collections are low, someone burned out and quit, and we don’t have the finances to hire this year, so the staff will need to work together to cover their responsibilities. Might this sound familiar?

We need Saints!

But what is our primary call? To know and love the Lord. What is the best thing we can do for our youth and our parish? Know and love the Lord. And yes, serve the Lord, but note: that does come third.

We need saints in our parishes and on our parish staff. We need authentic witnesses much more than we need great speakers, organizers, or teachers. Yes, these skills are important, but a holy disciple will usually be more effective than a skilled disciple—and far more effective than a burned-out disciple or a purely bureaucratic disciple. But effective at what?

What is our purpose at the parish? To balance the budget? To get a teacher for every class? To get the schedule completed? Those tasks are necessary. They need to be done. However, they are a means to an end. Our real purpose is to be authentic witnesses as holy, healthy, joyful disciples of Christ and to invite others to “come and see” as Jesus did.

But do we feel like disciples of Christ, or do we feel more like ecclesiastical bureaucrats? Do we really believe that by working more hours or more industriously or more efficiently that we’ll really get “everything done”? How much did Jesus cram into his work week? Did he meet all his deadlines?

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Teachers, administrators, and others working in Catholic schools are devoted to their students. They want what is best for them. This is why they will want to increase the variety and level of support offered to parents.

When I was a youth minister, I felt pretty comfortable discussing most topics with my students. I loved the long drives to camp when they’d share their playlists. I loved eating pizza and learning how to set up a MySpace account (I’m a dinosaur). I felt proud that I could even talk about some of the really tough stuff with ease, answering their questions about sex and dating without skipping a beat.

Over the years, however, I found myself feeling lost navigating the really hard stuff. Family violence, addiction, suicide, sexual abuse. I could listen, pray, and encourage students and their families to talk to those who were professionally trained to help, but as I learned how trauma affects the brain, body, and belief system, I knew my words were falling short. I felt I needed to learn what could be done better.

I remember telling my pastor how the overwhelming trauma in the lives of some of our students meant that sharing the Gospel felt like trying to lead a Bible study in a house that was burning down around us. I knew the hurt in their past and present was an obstacle that a well-planned lesson was not enough to overcome.

This led to further study, and eventually, I found myself as a counseling intern, serving survivors of childhood trauma—including physical abuse, substance abuse, and sexual abuse. Almost immediately, I realized that there were many things I wish I had known about talking to survivors of trauma—especially survivors of sexual abuse—when I was working in youth ministry.

Sexual Abuse Happens

The statistics will vary widely according to source, but the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention report that 1 in 4 girls and 1 in 20 boys in the United States experience childhood sexual abuse.[1] Psychology Today suggests that only 16–25 percent of children who experience sexual abuse will report it to a trusted adult or law enforcement.[2]

When I would teach students about God’s plan for sex and marriage, I would sometimes remember to add some sort of line like, “and of course, sexual abuse isn’t the same as premarital sex.” If you had asked me what I thought the prevalence of sexual abuse was among students, I would have honestly had no idea, but I definitely didn’t think it was common, especially not in my own community.

The reality of the numbers cited previously means that our assumption shouldn’t be that there might be a survivor in our audience but that there are likely multiple survivors among both our students and their caregivers. Our listeners deserve a clear condemnation of immoral and illegal behavior. Sharing the statistics and stating something to the effect of, “it’s not okay that sexual abuse happens, and it is never the kid’s fault” is important clarity to give anytime the topic is raised.

At some point, students and parents will inevitably ask about the reality that abuse is sometimes perpetrated by those who are seen as leaders in the Church. This is when our clear condemnation of illegal and immoral behavior is especially important.

It’s no news to catechists that it is our witness, not our words, that will first connect us with those we teach. This is especially true when we are speaking about the hardest topics. Mindfulness—being aware of our own feelings and reactions—is a habit to cultivate at all times but especially when we are presenting content about subjects that may be hard for some of our audience to absorb because of their past or present trauma. We should be aware that the resistance we may see, like a student goofing off or a parent scrolling through their phone during a meeting, might be an attempt to avoid thinking about unthinkable trauma and not simply disrespect. Asking open-ended questions and not assuming we know what someone is actually thinking can go far to meet our audience wherever they are mentally and emotionally.