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By: Curtis Leighton, SJ

Millennials take a lot of heat… and not just from their parents! Around the university, you sometimes hear an exhausted professor drop the occasional Millennial slur, whether it’s their “lack of resilience,” their “therapeutic culture” or worse, their “need” (always a negative) to be constantly connected, often by social media. All of these generational generalizations capture perhaps one or two aspects of the Millennial imagination, but I’d like to speak about something more specific: what Millennials bring to and receive from our weekly Student Mass.

As the coordinator of this student liturgy, I appreciate this generation for a number of reasons (and not just because you almost never have to ask these digital natives to silence their cellphones!). The first thing may seem obvious, but it’s important I think: it’s the sheer fact that our students show up to the Student Mass week in and week out. And not only show up, but pray, sing, serve, set up tables, move furniture, play instruments and count the collection. I marvel that our students come Sunday after Sunday, at the same time and in the same place, because they understand that while dating, commerce and networking can all be done online, the act of worship demands something more, something physical, embodied and inherently communal. Our gathering each Sunday evening is itself a holy thing, a sign of God’s power to contend with our own tendencies toward dissipation and division and once more gather us as a people. I believe so many of our students have realized a profound spiritual truth: that simply showing up can indeed open us up in ways that technology never could. With that said, it’s not always easy to compete with the demands our culture places on this generation. I see the students who week after week come to worship and celebrate as the hidden leaven of our campus and a witness that there is so much more to human life than a mere catalogue of to-do list items.

Many social scientists note how many more college freshman arrive with diagnosed psychological conditions than a generation ago. Depression, anxiety, as well as increased stress take a huge toll on the mental health of our students, and can lead to a sense of profound isolation. A good counselor, friends and mentors have their part to play when such issues arise, but so too do the People of God, the Church. We may not always find the sort of therapeutic listening that a good friend or therapist might provide when we go to Mass, but what we do find is the opportunity to once more become a community that is on the way to the Living God. The Second Vatican Council’s image of the Pilgrim Church is never more clear to me than when I see students begin streaming into our 3rd floor chapel, doffing their backpacks on the floor, and for an hour or so letting down their burdens and anxieties, lifting them up again transformed, lightened. And how does this happen? Mysteriously and by the grace of God, certainly, but it also happens through those ways we know well: through a welcoming smile, a word of encouragement and mercy. Even a chocolate chip cookie served up after Mass with good old-fashioned charity does more than we know to fend of the stresses of a late night of studying in Spokane. I only wish more would stick around to enjoy that cookie with a new friend and take a moment to savor the fellowship our community provides.

This so-called un-resilient, needy generation can teach us a thing or two about the source and summit of Christian life, for whom Mass can become a rather mechanical or rote endeavor. I believe our students’ need for deep connection, their craving for solidarity and acceptance, is what makes our Eucharistic celebrations so poignant. I see in the faces that come week after week to Sunday Mass a visible lightening that comes from worshipping with a joyful, accepting community. There is a song we sometimes sing which reads “We come to share our story. We come to break the bread. We come to know our rising from the dead.” It is particularly in this sharing of our stories at Mass—in words, yes, but also in gesture, and greeting, and symbol—that we are formed once more into the Eucharistic bread and wine, broken and shared for all. It is a joy to be able to celebrate with the students and Jesuits who make up our Sunday Mass community at Gonzaga. I hope you can join us some Sunday evening at 8:30pm in College Hall.

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