My youngest son and one of my nieces are currently preparing for Confirmation, the last of the three Sacraments of Initiation into our faith. Recently I was honored beyond words when our sweet, sixteen-year-old niece Natalie asked me to be her sponsor.
As part of my duties, one night I had the privilege of spending a couple of hours with this particular group of sophomores and their sponsors. Grinning from ear to ear I did my best to quell the restlessness that usually occupies my mind; I was determined to sit still and listen intently. Soon Debra and Sara, the two youth ministers, began talking about the lure of sin. Wizened by years of working with kids, they didn't waste much time with words; instead they moved quickly to a vivid illustration of how easily sin can deceive.
The team asked for eight volunteers who liked chocolate and invited them to the front of the room. Once seated, the chosen ones were given a morsel to eat while Sara held the empty Hershey's chocolate wrapper. At the appointed time, one person after another happily popped their prize into their mouth…only to quickly make some…er…interesting faces.
It seems that their piece of candy didn't actually come from the very visible Hershey's wrapper Sara was holding; unbeknownst to the participants, the unsweetened bakers' variety was what they received. The looks on their faces belied how nasty the chocolate tasted as well as their disgust at being misled. The youth ministers made their point (after the volunteers were sent to spit the offending bitterness out) that sin was like the switch in chocolate. What can look and sound like one thing can often end up being something else entirely.
Giggles and guffaws from the crowd subsided eventually — after all it was easy to watch someone else be fooled — and then each of the youthful participants was issued a bandana. Each sponsor was instructed to blindfold his or her candidate; the goal of the next few minutes was for each now non-seeing teenager to place his or her trust in their sponsor long enough to complete a three-minute stroll around the building and parking lot.
Natalie and I good naturedly began the game, but found ourselves hemmed in by numerous other candidate/sponsor couples. Patiently telling her what was going on, I giggled as I watched others getting used to leading/following. I quickly resolved not to let my sweet niece run into or trip over anything.
She was nervous for several moments, but shortly Natalie and I made it out of the building, down the steps and around the parking lot. It was a humbling experience to have my niece so blindly put her faith in me not to lead her wrong.
Gratefully — and after watching one sponsor in front of me accidentally run his charge into a wall — I was able to live up to Natalie's trust. After a few minutes the kids were brought back into the building and the youth ministers quickly moved on with their plan for the night. Instructions were given that the adults were to help put our youthful charges' blindfolds back on and then the adults were asked to form a circle around the outside of the large room.
The candidates were then pointed toward the center of the room as rules were given: One person in the group was “it.” This person was representing God in the game and every other player's objective was to identify who was God while remaining blindfolded. Oh, yeah — there was another catch: the only thing the kids were supposed to say in order to find who was “it” was “Are you God?” As each youngster found the one who answered “yes,” he or she was to take hold of an arm the same way we had in the last exercise.
The ultimate goal was for the kids to form one group. If you can imagine how loud thirty-five teenagers can be when presented with this kind of challenge you'll also understand why the instructions had to be repeated several times before the game started.
I had seen one of the youth ministers pull Natalie quietly to the side, so I had the advantage from my position in the adult circle of realizing that she was “it.” Her blindfold had been adjusted where she could see the ground in front of her and as the game started she began to walk quietly around the group. Quickly the already-loud adolescent voices rose to a cacophony and a tight ball of teenagers formed in the center of the circle.
The mass of humanity never really moved; they seemed very afraid to leave the security of the group even if they didn't find “God” — even though they knew that the adults were forming a protective circle. Needless to say, the kids didn't get very far, but Natalie continued in her quest as she answered quietly each time she was asked. It was quickly apparent that there was a big problem. The kids were putting a great deal of effort into asking their assigned question, but they weren't listening for an answer. They were playing the game with all their heart, yet missing the point. In each child's attempt to win, they only ended up playing spiritual bumpercars, their voices getting louder in the pursuit: “Are you God?” It struck me how easily they missed my auburn-haired-angel's quiet voice answering “yes.”
The game seemed to go on forever, but it couldn't have lasted for more than a few minutes. Surrounded by a protective circle of adults so that no one could wander away or hurt himself, Natalie continued to give her quiet answer until slowly, gradually, about half the room clung to that group.
Soon the game was over, blindfolds removed and a few remarks made by the youth ministers. I wish I could say I was surprised at how much talking and how little listening went on, but I'm not. After all, listening for the voice of God is one of the things I struggle with. But there was another surprise: some kids were willing to break the rules and reach out to tell others where God was. Then there were the few kids who wanted to be in the winning group so badly that they were willing to take their blindfolds off and peek. At first I thought they were cheating, and in the strict sense of the game they were, but the fact that they found “God,” was the desired end.
As an adult, I marvel at the participants who were willing to follow the rules in the game. There were many kids who were doing their best to find who was “it” but never did. Then there were others who, like me twenty years ago, were willing to take short cuts, break some rules, take their blindfolds off and look for God. Oh, I know that the kids in the game were outside the rules, which is, in itself questionable, but the symbolism of taking those blindfolds off long enough to find the correct crowd with which to associate oneself wasn't lost on me, nor was the mass inability to listen to God's still and quiet voice.
I stood in awe as I realized I'd just witnessed the way we humans spend much of our lives, playing a game of spiritual bumper cars while continually crying out: “Are you God?” The impression these few minutes made on me was a profound one. Throughout my life, especially the times when I feel like I'm going at things blindfolded, God is right there all along. I just have problems listening.
My heartfelt thanks go to Natalie for trusting me so much, and appreciation to Sara and Debra for the enlightenment. I have no way of knowing what, if anything, the others got out of the game, but for once I'm really glad that I slowed down long enough to listen.
Jackie Zimmerer is a wife and mother of four sons. She attends St. John's Catholic Church in the Diocese of Fort Worth, Texas.
