| | In 1972, my parents moved from Philadelphia to a godforsaken placed called Arkansas. Unfortunately, I had to come with them. I was 15 years old at the time and had no idea where Arkansas was. I even told my friends we were moving to Arizona, the only state I knew that started with an �A�. I soon found myself in a foreign land where hardly a soul spoke English. I remember in my early days of English class, my teacher put me in front of the room and had me read from a book of poetry telling all the other students, this is how they were suppose to talk. Talk about being embarrassed, but I did agree in my head that she & I were the ones who knew how to speak English. But the speech was not the only thing I thought was odd about my classmates at school. Everyone kept asking me �Are you saved?� and wanted to know what Church I went to. When I did not give the right answer to either question, they simply walked away confused. �Catholic?� �What type of �church� is that?� I could hear them mumble under their breath. I just assumed that their inability to speak properly caused their brains to be fixated on the topic of salvation and church. They all called themselves Baptist. I had no idea what that meant, but if that meant I had to greet everyone with the question about salvation, I wanted nothing to do with being one. They were lonely days for me during high school. Since I wasn�t a Baptist, |
didn�t care whether anyone was saved or not and felt like a stranger in a foreign land, Church became very important to me. As much as I hated to get up on Sunday morning to my father�s phrase, �Time to roll,� going to Mass was like going home. Even though I was in Arkansas and far away from my parish church in Philadelphia, I could identify with these people. We had a common bond and that was our common faith; our Catholic faith.
It wasn�t long before I was invited by another teen to come to a CYO meeting. It took some encouragement for me to go. I was afraid that it would be boring or we would talk about religion all the time. But I was wrong. CYO for me was a way to meet other teens in my parish that went to my school and were Catholic. We did talk a little about religion and faith, but we did fun things as well. It helped me to come out of my shell and learn to have fun even in a state that was still very hard to call home. CYO made it possible for me to have friends that shared a common faith, a common purpose in life and common values.
Well that was 32 years ago. It seems like a long time ago that I was that lonely teenager who lived in a foreign land that I now call home. However, over the years my faith is still important to me. Whenever I visit a far away church or cathedral I feel at home. What makes me feel comfortable is the faith I possess. It |
is my Catholicity that unites me to all others who share my faith. Believe it or not, my CYO days in high school contributed to this strong sense of belonging.
Now days, CYO is called CYM (Catholic Youth Ministries). The name change really just reflects the organizations desire to show people that Catholic youth not only can identify with each other, but can also play a vital part in parish life. St. Theresa parish has had a rich history of having a great CYM. Over the years hundreds of Catholic teens have made friends, deepened their faith and remained active in the church due to our CYM program.
However, over the past several years, we have had an increasing difficult time getting young people to give this wonderful Catholic Ministry a try. Perhaps it is has to do with changing life styles of teenagers. Maybe it is sports or work. Some say they do not have time, others say it�s not fun. Nonetheless, here at St. Theresa we still have a organization called CYM that is open to all students in high school. I know that even now, teens need to spend time with friends who share the same faith and the same values.
Continued on page 4
|