“Yeah, there’s no one else my age at church,” shrugs the 28-year-old with resignation.
Justin grew up at Saint Elizabeth’s, Honolulu, back when his brother led the lively youth group. He’s still here. But most — well, maybe all — of the kids he knew a decade ago are now gone. Moved away, working, or sleeping in on Sunday mornings.
I’d invited Justin out to lunch, mostly for the sake of begging him not to eventually leave us for one of the more youthful mega churches in town.
Yet as we’re talking, I suddenly realize: we’re wrong. There are at least three other twenty-something men at our church. They live in the old rectory house, which means they’re physically at church more than anyone — including me. Not two days earlier, they’d taken me out for a virgin mai tai.
See, three months ago, when I started here as Priest-in-Charge, I inherited a ministry that calls itself a Catholic Worker House.
The House was started a decade ago by two older folks who had been actual Catholic Workers. Those Baby Boomers had devoted their lives to Dorothy Day’s instruction to “live in accordance with the justice and charity of Jesus Christ.” They’d found their way to one of the roughest areas of Honolulu and started a food pantry at Saint Elizabeth’s.
When the original Catholic Workers retired, there was an ensuing panic. Who would run the pantry now? A guy on the Mainland responded to a haphazard notice on an online bulletin board. It was discovered that someone’s nephew had just graduated and likely had nothing better to do. These two guys eventually became three when they invited their triathlete buddy from the Midwest to join them in Paradise. He could train all he wanted, as long as he used his muscles to lift heavy pallets from the Food Bank.
When I investigated, I found young adults with little religious upbringing, almost no knowledge of Dorothy Day, and scant connection to the congregation that sponsors them. I also found hearts awake and full of compassion for the people they see and serve, day in and day out. On my very first day, I watched one of them lift Don, an ailing addict with open leg wounds, into his wheelchair — an act of pure tenderness now emblazoned on my heart.
One afternoon, Guy Number Three, the most recent addition, wanted to talk with me.
“I’m just curious,” he said. “What is the Catholic Worker Movement?”
I honestly don’t know much myself yet, so I gave him a brief overview of what I hoped were related topics — the Christian tradition of charity, liberation theology, and more recent New Monasticism movements.
“Yeah,” he replied slowly. “I didn’t grow up going to church at all. But you know, before this I spent several years in active duty military. I miss having that sense of purpose, of being willing to give your life for something. I want to live simply. I’d like to not own much. I really like the work we’re doing at the House. I’d love to hear more about this stuff. I want to live my life intentionally.”
No, this twenty-something wasn’t exactly asking for a Bible study. Neither had he quite built a monument “to an unknown God” that I could, Paul-esque, interpret for him. But he did pull me out of a particular rut I can get stuck in — the one where I think there’s some sort of shortage of ministry just because twenty- and thirty-year-olds aren’t showing up to Sunday worship en masse.
If the Church’s mission is reconciliation, these guys are sure trying to do just that. They don’t do it perfectly, and they need mentorship. But that mentorship is something two millennia of Christianity can offer: how to process suffering and compassion. How to live with contradiction. How to discern a life of purpose.
I think of what Paul writes to the Romans: “But how are they to call on one in whom they have not believed? How are they to believe in one of whom they have never heard? And how are they to hear without someone to proclaim him?”
We can’t expect younger people who haven’t heard the Gospel to come to us. But we can be more generous about offering a Gospel interpretation when we see that it may be really helpful.
And it’s possible those young people aren’t as rare or far off as we think — perhaps even living in our backyard.
The Rev. Katie Nakamura Rengers
Priest-in-Charge, Saint Elizabeth’s Honolulu
The Rev. Katie Nakamura Rengers serves as Priest-in-Charge of Saint Elizabeth’s Episcopal Church in Honolulu. She previously planted The Abbey, a congregation in Birmingham, Alabama, and served on denominational staff resourcing and encouraging leaders as they started, nurtured, and sustained new faith communities. Katie is passionate about helping churches discover new ways to love God, serve their neighbors, and share in the life of their communities.
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