The
first thing one notices about Marjorie Corbman is her age, or
rather her youth. At 17, this recent high-school graduate is
among the few writers who have been published before reaching
adulthood. That notable distinction is soon surpassed, however,
by Corbman's
depth of insight. Here is a young woman who has explored her
faith more deeply and more intentionally than many people do
during the course of a lifetime.
Corbman's
book, A
Tiny Step Away from Deepest Faith, recounts
her search for meaning, truth, identity and connection,
both as
an individual and as an American teen growing up in our
materialistic culture. Through her own experiences and those
of her friends,
she depicts young people today struggling to find authenticity,
yet often characterized by adults as shallow and jaded.
In the essay below Marjorie talks more about today's youth, its
contradictions and its yearning for a meaningful way to live.
***
Young
people… do not allow your youth to mislead you and give
you the false hope that you might be able to realize your freedom
and your happiness on your own. Be aware that other people are
your brothers and sisters and your fellow sufferers in the struggle
against death, but also be aware that this struggle will not
bring freedom. No one can liberate us from death except Christ,
Who is the communion of love in the Holy Spirit. —Patriarch
Pavle of Serbia, 2004 Paschal Epistle
I
am a new freshman in college, and, perhaps more importantly, I am
a person who was transplanted from one place to another. I am going
to a Catholic college, a Jesuit school. Not just a nominally Jesuit
school, but a school where faith is expected to be part of everyone's
life, and it generally is. Ten p.m. Mass on Sundays essentially
empties out the hall of my dorm. People here talk about God, and
in terms I am completely unaccustomed to hearing. When we went around
the room in my religious studies class, explaining our personal
religious background, everyone had pretty clear convictions, and,
to my shock, generally a strong rooting in the Christian faith.
I realized then how provincial my thoughts were on youth spirituality.
Moving
from one place to another, touching different parts of a whole,
allows for greater insight into the essence of a phenomenon. I had
thought of youth today as being obsessed with hating "organized
religion" and dogma. But how does that characterization jibe
with these devoutly Catholic college students?
There
are matching strands. For one thing, there is a desperateness. Teenagers
today live desperately; this is our spirituality, how we approach
the world, how we open ourselves to what is beyond. The problem
lies in the older generation’s insistence on compartmentalizing
life—in putting "spiritual life" in one spot, "academics"
in another and "having fun" still someplace else.
In
other words, the modern world has managed to completely disassemble
the experience of the sacrament—
of the spiritual and the material as one, of God coming to us in
bread, of the Spirit moving us through every moment of our lives.
Perhaps
the good news is that we recognize the disconnections. A thick cloud
of boredom has settled over our age bracket, and so we grope out
through the mist. We reach out at extremes, and pull back, disillusioned.
We
know that we want our lives transformed. We know that we are hungry,
and we know that there is a way to appease that hunger. Some of
us even believe in traditional theology, where God feeds our whole
lives in the Eucharist.
We
know that what surrounds us is diseased, yet we cannot fix it.
How can a generation avoid feeding off the culture that envelops
it? How can those coming-of-age create a new milieu? What have we
to work with? We recognize the things that are poison to our souls
but that is all that society provides for us? We cannot simply walk
back into a pre-modern culture. We are desperate for purpose. Without
that we are left with no alternative but spinning in the cycle of
buying and being bought.
Yet,
I am optimistic. I strongly believe that young people can reject
society, despite the money we give and the shows we watch. Being
here at school undergirds that hope. Walking beneath the striking
blue sky, through the sun-pierced pines, looking at the ivy-covered
buildings with their gold crosses glowing in the light, I am surrounded
by beauty just like that of my tree-filled town at home. Like always,
the majesty of God's Creation reassures me. But something else here
helps my faith: the fact that we all talk about God. Oh, if only
we could just keep talking about Him, part of me believes that we
won't forget Him.
I
am not blind. I am well aware that we sway in the winds of whatever
fad blows our way.
We can be mindless pack animals, slaves to death and instinct. Yet
every Sunday at 10 p.m. when my hall becomes deadly quiet, I know
that the feast that so many have joined affords the ultimate transformation.
The victory over death will not and cannot be won by us. It has
already been won for us, finally and irrevocably. Such is the mystery
of faith, and such will win out in those who reach out desperately,
no matter the darkened mists surrounding them.
Blessed
are you who hunger now, for you shall be filled. —Luke
6:21
To purchase Marjorie Corbman's book,
A
TINY STEP AWAY FROM DEEPEST FAITH, visit amazon.com. This link is provided as a service to explorefaith.org
visitors and registered users.
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