Every time I prayed for my students and humbly became aware of the responsibility before me, I often thought about Jesus looking at his people and feeling sorry for them for they had no shepherd.
There was a degree of spiritual war my soul could perceive, and in many ways teaching teens was a missionary endeavor, and most certainly a work of mercy.
Wait, had I just joined the Marines? It felt like I had either joined the armed forces and was being deployed, or was being sent to some faraway mission country where I risked being eaten alive by natives. The word got out to the parishioners, and suddenly people were coming up to me after Mass, shaking my hand enthusiastically and saying things like: “You’re so brave!” “I could never do what you do!” and “God bless you.” I wasn’t sure if they were congratulating me, warning me of impending doom or pitying me. Then, just as the semester was about to end, we got some unexpected news. But, we got talking about faith, and to me that was a start.
I wasn’t the perfect catechist, and they weren’t the perfect students all the time, either. Then hiding my nervousness I faced them and asked: “So how long have you guys been Catholics?” After a few stares, a young girl piped up: “I guess like fifteen years.” Half tongue in cheek, half sarcastically I piped right back: “Oh, so you really know your faith?” The challenge was on. I nervously wrote on the board “God does not deceive, neither can He be deceived.” I heard some nervous and mocking laughter, I couldn’t quite figure out which. my physical commanding presence was not going to get me too far. A class of ten rambunctious teens filled with life’s existential questions was outside of my subset quite outside of the comfort zone. I had some experience teaching Math, but I was aware that teaching religion would be completely different. It was 10 years ago, but it seems like it was just last year when I volunteered to teach a tenth grade catechism class.
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