The other day, I was sitting in on a confirmation class, listening to a young and charismatic seminarian explain the idea of belief in God. He expressed an overload of ideas and sentiments, some of which I would say I can relate to or that played an important role in my own “pilgrimage”. And every so often, these explanations were interrupted by a sort of apologetic aimed at correcting a misunderstanding of God or religion commonly accepted by society today, which perhaps even these kids believed themselves. There was a lot that the seminarian left unsaid, mostly because he was pressed for time (he and I had a good conversation afterwards, and no doubt he’s very bright), but that’s not what caught my interest. No: what stood out to me in this experience was (without passing any judgement on the quality of what was taught) how disinterested so many of the kids were.

As I was listening to the speech, I looked at the group of kids the seminarian was addressing. A lot of them looked really bored, and I thought, “Okay, well, they’re essentially sitting through a lecture at 12-13 years old. Of course they’ll be bored!” But then, as I was engaging with a few of them in a small group discussion, I realised that they weren’t just bored. They didn’t realise or understand the need or purpose of any of this on a personal level. A few of them mentioned ways that they took part in Church life (choir, altar serving, etc), but they didn’t say much beyond that. There was no mention of any of what had been talked about in the class, which—looking back on it now—seemed so completely unrelatable to them.

I thought on a few points that the seminarian brought up, notably our need for God. When was the last time you had to have one of your “needs” explained? Probably the last time you saw an ad on YouTube, which is exactly the problem: it’s like the Church talks past them. It’s as if the Church thinks that they ought to know that they ought to be learning from us. Of course, the truth is that Jesus said:

Unless you be like children, you will not see the kingdom of God.

Matthew 18:3

It would seem that rather than the children sitting through catechism lessons, we adults might observe what they make of and how they live in the world because by our own scriptures, that is what we are supposed to do. And so we come to the irony of this scenario: that we salesmen are trying to sell someone something that they already have, but which we ourselves need.

I remember sitting and talking with one of the great priests I know, and as usual, we talked theology. But on this occasion, there was a moment of silence, and he looked out the window at the kids playing in the schoolyard next to the parish, and he said, “Look at that. That’s what the Lord calls us to.” I didn’t think much of it at the time, but now I can see his point. The way adults approach the spiritual life is often legalistic, dry, and burdensome. I’ve met enough who talk so joylessly of the joy that God has brought them to know this. And contrary to how many would interpret this saying of Jesus, this is not a question of blind obedience, for who asks more questions than a child (apart from irritating philosophers)? It is a question of perspective: do you cultivate that inner child of yours—with it’s childlike wonder, awe, and innocence—or not? Few of us manage this. I certainly don’t, and there’s no shame in it: life seems to demand our failure in this, but it is our failure, and that should be humbling.

So, although life often gets in the way, we should endeavour to remember that it is not only children who might learn something from us. Quite the contrary: in the marvellous philosophy of Lao Tzu, it is the “uncarved block” (朴) that best represents the Sage. Thus, oftentimes it is us who might learn something from them, and while I could develop this thought further, perhaps that would defeat the point.