By Kurt Rietema
Long before he became the patron saint of birdbaths and gaudy, post-war lawn ornaments, Francis of Assisi was…well, he was a spoiled rich kid. Francis’s dad, Pietro Bernardone, was a part of the new money merchants in 13th century Italy, so Pietro went to great lengths to prove to the old money snobs that Francis could spend money just as lavishly and party just as hard as their kids could. But after Francis attempted to find glory on the battlefield and was subsequently jailed in a dungeon and became sick to the point of death, Francis had a reckoning. Was the good life that went unquestioned by his father and the aspirations of the young nobility really good? Or was there another life out there, a different way of being and relating to others where his joy, his needs, and his fulfillment didn’t depend upon the diminishment of another’s?
The turning point for Francis came one day when he felt led by God to draw close to a group of lepers. In the Middle Ages, lepers were the very dregs of society. The sources of leprosy were unknown in those days, so people believed that they could contract leprosy from a leper’s breath, therefore lepers had to shake rattles to let others know they were near. The only people who had mercy on lepers at the time were a few dedicated Christians who formed small religious communities that fed and cared for them in what they called ‘hospices’ or ‘hospitals.’ Drawing close to lepers was — especially for someone of Francis’s class — unthinkable. Disgusting even. But for Francis, going near the lepers, something happened in his spirit that was the opposite of disgust and revolt. In a later reflection on the encounter, Francis recalled, “what had seemed to me bitter was changed for me into sweetness in body and soul.”
Here was a young man who had the world at his feet; an easy, comfortable life lay wide before him. But here was also a young man who realized early enough how shallow and empty life can be when lived for oneself, when we never question the stories that lock us in fear and make others into monsters. In the lepers, Francis discovered not monsters, but the very face of Christ himself.
As a parent, I get Pietro Bernardone’s impulse to want to give my kids the best kind of life that I can. I love my kids so I love to give them good things! I hate to see them suffer. As much as I know some of the pitfalls of doing so, I always find myself tempted to remove the boulders out of their paths. I want to steer them towards good things and away from corrupting influences. But I wonder whether, in doing that, I’m absorbing someone else’s version of the good life and passing it on to my kids. Is the life that is being sold to us really good? Or might it lead to despair both in us and in others, as an increasing amount of evidence suggests? And even more disturbing for me as a follower of Jesus, is wondering if my desire to spare my kids from suffering and hardship unintentionally steers them away from the forgotten people and despised places where scripture says Christ is found (Matt. 25:31-46, Heb. 13:11-14). Perhaps we need to pay attention to the same voice of God that led Francis of Assisi to turn towards lepers, and who likewise might call us and our children to turn towards people our society has despised and do things we think of as disgusting.
Modern researchers at the University of Bristol may have recently discovered some proof in Francis’s ancient wisdom. And the proof is…well, it’s found in poop. Stick with me here. Scientists have always known that people can get used to disgusting things after repeated exposure. The first week of changing diapers can be a stomach-turning test for new parents, but after a while, you become habituated. After enough poopy diapers, milk spit up and vomit, we parents aren’t fazed by much. Neuroscientists wanted to find out if that disgust tolerance faded after a while, or if it set parents up for a lifetime of being disgust-proof. The researchers showed participants two photos on a computer screen — on one side, something neutral like a stack of towels, on the other, something disgusting like dirty diapers — and tracked where the participants put their attention. The results? The nonparents tended to avoid the disgusting photos while the parents — even decades after changing their last diaper — showed little aversion to the disgusting ones. Disgust-proof.
I mention this because one of the faith practices that we constantly invite young people into at Youthfront is service. And for us, service often looks like getting young people to do things they once thought disgusting for the sake of another, putting another’s interests and another’s needs above their own. In our Teen Staff program at Youthfront Camp, you’ll see teams of young people scraping off half-eaten lasagna, another rushing for a wet rag to clean up after a kindergartener who laughed with milk in his mouth, and yet another plunging a clogged toilet. Through our Service Saturdays in the Argentine neighborhood of Kansas City, Kansas, you might see youth volunteers soaked in sweat cutting down overgrown brush to save neighbors who face impending fines from the city or hauling trash out of a basement after a neighbor’s foundation wall collapsed. We invite young people to do hard, at-first unpleasant, sometimes disgusting acts of service over and over and over again. And after a while, they find out like Francis did that what had once seemed bitter has changed into ‘sweetness in body and soul.’ Through repeated practice, Youthfront helps young people develop habits and practices that form them in an alternative way, shaping their desire toward another world where they don’t sit at the center.
And as a parent of teenagers, I’m not really interested in my kids serving other people so that they develop vague notions of empathy or so that it helps them meet volunteer hour requirements for graduation or makes their college resumes more attractive and well-rounded. On my best days, I want my own kids to serve, to get comfortable in uncomfortable places, because I want them to know where to find Christ in the world.
My wife and I make it a regular habit to pray with our kids, to read scripture with them and to go to church on Sundays. As long as they’re under our roof, we’re going to point them towards Jesus the best way that we know how. But in a few years, they’ll be gone. And I suspect that there will come a day when my kids’ prayers will go unanswered, when they will question the goodness of God revealed in parts of scripture, or they will feel betrayed by a church whose foundations have shifted. On that day, I want them to remember where Francis found Christ, where they once found Christ and where he might be found again — among those the world has despised and considered unimportant. I want them to remember when they gave Christ something to eat, when they filled his water bottle at the homeless encampment, when they dined with him at an immigrant’s table, when they sorted clothes for him, and when they visited him at juvie. When they’ve grown tired and weary of a world that tramples one another in pursuit of ease and comfort, I hope that they might rediscover a truly good life in friendship and solidarity with Christ in their neighbor.
If you find yourself with a similar desire to help your kids and teens discover the truly good life, let me invite you to learn more about some of Youthfront’s most impactful programs and events. Through immersive experiences like Missional Journeys and Service Saturdays, youth groups and families cross geographic and cultural divides to tackle small repairs and projects to serve neighbors in need. Teen Staff invites teens into a community of service and faith at Youthfront Camp and year-round events. And this month, Something to Eat KC will bring people from across the metro together for an all-ages service event to pack thousands of meals for neighbors facing food insecurity. These are not just opportunities to volunteer; they are invitations to give our kids a lived memory of where Christ can be found.
About Kurt Rietema: Kurt is the Senior Director of Youthfront Neighborhood. He holds a Master’s in Global Development and Social Justice from St. John’s University. Kurt is also an adjunct at MidAmerica Nazarene University and at William Jewell College. Kurt and his wife Emily live with their sons, Luke, Perkins and Leo in an under-resourced neighborhood of Kansas City, Kansas called Argentine.
