Entering into this world with eyes for excitement, children have a sense of amazement over everything that is. As adults, we find this sensation in watching movies or reading books or playing video games. In a word, from escapism. We see Star Wars or read The Lord of the Rings and experience childlike wonder again. But for children, the world just is The Lord of the Rings. It’s altogether a little bit creepy, and totally fantastic.
Now, there are many things we can learn from children, but one of them—and perhaps the best of all—is how to look at the world. Very quickly: Here is something children know that adults forget. Everything in this world is, but doesn’t have to be. Children bearundiluted, clear witness to the radical contingency of everything that exists; to the preposterous and hair-raising fact that something like crocodiles exist. Because, quite frankly, it is preposterous that something like crocodiles exist. Surely, it is the stuff of fairy tales that these bizarre and bumpy, green creatures are out there. And so, it would seem to me—as it seems so clear to my children—that everything from rice pilaf to Spanish octopi points simply to the fact that life is just one big ball of magic. It’s all here. But it doesn’t have to be. And yet we’re all so darn glad that it is. We’ve got front row seats to the greatest show to ever be staged.
But the lessons from children don’t stop there; not even close. For children are not only bemused at the wonder of existence but appreciative of it. They want to know everything about, say, goblin sharks—why they live where they do, what’s up with their grotesque snouts and pink skin and mangled, sharp, scraggly teeth—and then, of all things, they tell me they love them. (“Goblin sharks? Really? Okay!”) Same with tarantulas, or crayons and coloring books, or trolley cars and pizza delivery people. Everything gets the attention of children, even (and especially) the stuff that we as grownups have come to view as unimportant, or kind of gross. There’s something to be learned from this. Something important.
Because there is nothing necessary about any of these things, nothing about why goblin sharks and not some other hideous-yetfascinating deep sea creature, or why pizza delivery people or trolley cars, or why these laws of physics or these fermions and bosons and not some other fundamental “stuff,” and so that’s what makes the world all the more incredible. It is. But it doesn’t have to be. It’s not just the fact that these things exist that intrigues us, but also that we can ask questions about them, as children do. We can ask why.
Children see there must be some reason for the magic happening; they can see we live in a world that is no different (in principle, at least) than fairyland, only instead of fairies, we have platypus and pocket lint. There must be some kind of explanation for it: all magic requires a magician, or so we think. And so who, we would all like to know, is the one behind all this? Who is the one pulling the universe from his sleeve, conducting the celestial symphony, writing the cosmic narrative? We look around at this great and fantastic drama we’re in—with all its amazing stage props and characters and events—and we demand to know something about the stage designer, the prop master, or whatever we want to call him. We get that Caesar died because Brutus stabbed him—that we can figure out from reading the story alone, just as we can figure out that objects are attracted to one another by the law of gravity from observing the universe alone—but who wrote the story to begin with? Who breathed the fire and made things just so? Why Brutus at all? Why is the law of gravity this way and not that?
Children see the world in the way it is meant to be seen. They see it as magic, mystical, awe-inspiring. They see it as unnecessary and, because of this, infinitely precious and worth admiring. Worth asking questions about. Worth taking in. They want to know everything they can about, well, everything they can, from crocodiles to clouds, from cars to catapults. Children get us to see, quite clearly, and quite rightly, I believe, that there is nothing about this universe that explains itself, just as there is nothing within The Lord of the Rings that explains The Lord of the Rings. To answer that, we would need to take the question up with J.R.R. Tolkien. For the universe itself, that question is kicked to God.
There are theological implications here, as there are theological implications in (almost) everything. Children not only get this, but are unaffected by it; unpestered by social pressure or political influence, children are wholly unconcerned about whether certain lines of inquiry might lead to religious outcomes or not. They just want to know why the world is the way it is.
This is the mind of the philosopher, the scientist, the theologian; the honest seeking person of everyday common sense melded with an adventurous spirit; the person who not only wants to know truth but humbles themselves before the biggest questions in life, yet loves the hunt, lives for the hunt. There are so many things my children have taught me. But to love, wonder at, and appreciate the world again, from the eyes of someone new to it— which, to me, is simply to love, wonder at, and appreciate God— is the greatest lesson of all.
Writer, entrepreneur, and “re-converted” Catholic, Pat Flynn focuses his efforts on helping others find happiness and wholeness through fitness, philosophy, and religion. He is a writer for the Word on Fire blog and this article can be found here: https://www.wordonfire.org/resources/blog/what-children-canteach- us-about-god/5975/
The time is almost here. Few things give me more joy than Christmastime. While it will truly be here in just a few more sleeps, I know some folks, sadly, are ready for it to be over. Perhaps, among other reasons, its because we “jump the gun” on Christmas to the point that we seem to have Christmas fatigue by the time the actual day and true season arrives. But, I digress; another debate for another time.
The first reading and the Gospel for this Fourth Sunday of Advent help to set the stage for our celebration of Christmas this coming week. Starting last Monday on December 17th, the focus of the season of Advent changed. We found ourselves looking forward to the return of Jesus at the end of time for the majority of the season; the tale-end of Advent, always starting on December 17th, invites us to begin to focus on the coming of Jesus as the child of Bethlehem. In the first reading we hear t h e Prophet Micah speaking of Bethlehem. The Gospel tells us of Mary’s visitation to her cousin Elizabeth where Mary finds her faith in the words of Gabriel confirmed by the fact that Elizabeth is with
What both Bethlehem and Mary have in common is that no one would have expected either of them to have anything to do with the coming of the Messiah; Bethlehem lacked the glory of its neighbor Jerusalem, even though Bethlehem truly is “David’s city” and Mary was a girl from a non-descript family in a back-water town called Nazareth, a town of maybe two-hundred people at the time. However, with both Bethlehem and Mary we see God doing wonderful things in and through them.
I recently read that only 8% of New Year’s resolutions last beyond one month. I have made my fair share of New Year’s resolutions. Life changes, busy schedules, new additions to the family (!) can all contribute to our chances of completing them. If you Google, “2019 New Year’s Resolutions” you will find people providing you lists of the best resolutions to make for next year. While I scroll down the page, I see articles encouraging resolutions for health, work, organization, money habits, the list goes on and on for “about 62,000,000” results. We haven’t even come to the last week of December and we already have that many opinions and experts on the topic? I scrolled through the first few pages of the results looking for advice on spiritual resolutions, and found…none.
So much has changed for Cathedral parish over the past year. After many years ministering to children through our school, we regretfully said good bye to that apostolate. As sad as that was for many, the loss of a school left space for something new to grow. This fall we began to explore some new ways of being Christ to our community. Alpha, a process for introducing people to a relationship with Jesus Christ, was successfully launched in June, and we look forward to welcoming more Alpha guests in January. Our priests have undertaken a wide-ranging schedule of adult faith formation opportunities to help us grow as disciples of Jesus Christ. We have prayerfully considered our response to God’s generosity in our lives during our Season of Stewardship. Our music director, Mark Gifford has expanded opportunities to pray and worship through music ministry, including our first ever Lessons and Carols, and the exciting new First Friday Concert series. We have started a conversation about trauma in order to better serve those in need in our neighborhood and community. In February we will participate in University of Dallas’ pilot for Studies in Catholic Faith and Culture. And we are hoping to offer bereavement ministry to accompany those who are suffering through a loss.
I converted to Catholicism in 2011 and Alpha interested me because I thought it might challenge my belief system, and it sounded fun. The course did help me rethink some topics, but mostly I developed a stronger social network. Before Alpha, I went to mass and knew very few people. Now when attending, I have more people that I am acquainted with and have made a few new friends. I have experience with facilitation, and since Alpha was such a fun time, I decided that I would offer to volunteer at a table as a group helper. ~Leza Ulrich
“ I invite all Christians, everywhere, at this very moment, to a renewed personal encounter with Jesus Christ.” Pope Francis
I’ve been attending mass at Cathedral off and on for 20 years and this year became a registered parishioner. Alpha was my first opportunity to get to know people from the church at a deeper level. Over 12 weeks I grew closer to my table members by sharing knowledge, insights, laughter, tears, gifts, food, and plans for friendship in the future. I didn’t want Alpha to end, so am happy it will be offered twice a year at Cathedral. Watching the inspiring videos and discussing them helped me understand myself as a spiritual being and articulate my relationship with God. This program is for everyone regardless of where they’re at in life. It gave me a new meaning of church as an inclusive, rather than exclusive, place. I’m grateful to serve and be served in this ongoing program. ~Mary Frances
I remember growing up in Catholic school and having to make construction paper Advent wreaths every single year! The little yellow flames would be cut out and held until each new candle was lit. Great idea, except for the fact that the chance you could find the flames greatly diminished as each week passed. I will bet over 50% of the wreaths never received a 4th flame! Of course by then, most kids in elementary school had moved on to Christmas. Christmas was not a day. It was an entire experience of vacation from school.