“Today’s athletes talk about rights and privileges. Fifty years ago, athletes talked about obligations and responsibilities.” —Legendary Coach Lou Holtz
Not long ago, while reading a commentary on the Mysteries of the Rosary, I stopped when I got to the last Joyful Mystery: “The Finding of Jesus in the Temple.” I wondered, how is this a joyful mystery? I mean, didn’t Mary and Joseph actually lose Jesus? Like, for a couple of days? Any parent will tell you that losing a child is anything but joyful. The anxiety and stress of something like that would, in my opinion, be better placed in the “sorrowful” mystery category. Albeit they found him again — and I guess that might account for the joy. But still.
There is a pervasive struggle in our culture today, and I’m not sure who is winning. It seems an increasing number of parents are more deeply concerned with grades, trophies and distinctions for their kids than they are in goodness, discipline and Godliness. This isn’t true of all people, of course. But the effects of this tidal wave of secularism have permeated what we see in the classroom, just as it did what I saw at the police department. I imagine coaches might feel the same.
A recent survey highlighted that many American families today spend more than $3,000 per year on travel teams, not including the ancillary fees of equipment and travel expenses. Travel sports can be a good thing, and sports can be an excellent character builder — but only if coaches are as concerned with building character as they are with winning games. And parenting can be a rewarding vocation, if parents are as concerned with raising good kids as they are kids whose academic accolades they can brag about on Facebook.
The change has been subtle. But even a quarter century ago, if you asked most kids why they avoided drugs or underaged drinking, they would say: “Because my parents would have killed me.” Now, it seems, in our culture at large, things have changed a bit.
At the heart of our problem in the culture is a gradual removal or abstraction of God from our collective conscience. Perhaps we have become a country so filled with the good things of this world that we’ve lost the sense that God’s blessings are what gave them to us.
Humility is a tricky concept. It is not, as some might suggest, the idea that we think less of ourselves, the false notion of a self-deprecating attitude. Rather, it is the idea that we are honest enough with ourselves about our talents and all the good things we have been given, many of which we didn’t earn. It’s the concept that we remember our roots, are thankful for the people who loved us enough to be tough on us and are willing to give back. But, of course, that notion must begin with belief in a God who set it into motion.
One of my favorite songs in the eighties was called “Show Me the Way” by Styx. At the expense of dating myself, I’d like to share with you a few of the words: “Every night I say a prayer in the hopes that there’s a Heaven. And every day I’m more confused as the saints turn into sinners. All the heroes and legends I knew as a child have fallen to idols of clay. And I feel this empty place inside, so afraid that I’ve lost my faith. Show me the way.”
There is a “hero” size hole in the hearts of our youth today. They will either fill it with heroes who point the way to God, or heroes who point to the profane. My hope is we can give them more of the former rather than the latter.
As we prepare to return to school this fall, I find it imperative to remember — and to remind our students — that for those who have been blessed with much, much will be required. The Catholic schools in our archdiocese are some of the best in the country. But what makes them “best” isn’t simply the way they compete on the gridiron, rink or court; rather, it’s the goodness with which they compete, centered on what makes their school Catholic.
I am blessed to work for a school that has “much.” And I know my colleagues share my resolve in reminding our students to be vigilant pursuers of the humility to thank the Giver; not to rest on the laurels that we somehow deserve all that we’ve been given.
The Blessed Virgin Mary, who just happens to be Alma Mater at the school where I teach, was joyful that she found Jesus after a few days. But it finally hit me why this is a joyful mystery. Maybe it’s not just because she found him, but where she found him: doing the will of His Father.
The stellar education our kids receive in our schools is foundational. And I am confident that Godliness and humility will continue to propel our students toward the true Source of joy. Then, when that happens and we find ourselves victorious on the field, we can be joyful not only in our athletic prowess, but in our ability to humbly “show The Way” to a culture who so desperately needs it.
Paul Stuligross is a retired police officer. He currently teaches theology at Detroit Catholic Central High School in Novi.
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