Dad ‘stunned’ to learn teen apathetic about religion

simpsons church

As my four younger daughters and were I were en route to the local library last night I asked Daughter No. 3 how her most recent Sunday evening religious education class had gone. Three of the four are preparing for confirmation and are in the first year of a two-year program. They are about as enthusiastic as any young teen would be about having to spend 75 minutes every Sunday evening learning about religion.

Daughter No. 3 was quick with her response: “We didn’t learn anything.”

Me: “What do you mean, you didn’t learn anything?”

D3: “We had a party because we won’t have another class until after the holidays.”

Me: “Well, that must have been nice, right?”

D3: “Oh, yeah.”

I then decided to see how much or – more likely, in her case – how little she was enjoying the class. “How about I ask you some questions about what you’ve learned this year?” Her sisters, sitting in the back seat, and likely hoping for a repeat of this memorable Q-and-A session, immediately voiced their assent.

“Dad!” Daughter No. 3 broke in. “No! You always ask me hard stuff. About the bible. You know I don’t know bible stuff!”

Now, to be fair, Daughter No. 3 is an exceptionally bright young lady. She has a very good chance of finishing the current semester with straight A’s and just last week learned she had earned recognition as a South Carolina Junior Scholar.

That said, she is not on the fast track for a doctorate in Theology.

“Okay,” I relented, “how about if I ask you about the sacraments? I’m sure you’ve gone over those, right?”

D3: “No.”

Me: “Really? You haven’t gone over the sacraments?”

D3: “Dad, we’ve only been to class a couple of times.”

Me: “You’ve been going since October, so it’s been more than a couple of times. Just name the sacraments. I’ll give you a hint: There are seven of them.”

D3: “Um, marriage, baptism, communion … confirmation … “

And then the fun began.

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When Cain and Abel joined Adam and Eve at the Last Supper

Last supper

My girls and I have done a bit of traveling lately to an array of creeks, lakes and rivers, for fishing, swimming, exploring and generally enjoying the summer weather. I, having tired of the same-old traveling game of who can irritate whom the most effectively, of which all four seem equally adept, took it upon myself to introduce our form of Jeopardy.

Initial categories were the main subjects of my younger daughters (a rising 9th grader, two rising 8th graders and a rising 6th grader): English, science, math and social studies.

After a couple of games, I found myself having to improvise as I was beginning to struggle to find the right mix between what my kids knew and what I thought they might know. When questions such as “Name any of the Lords Proprietors of Carolina” and “Define the term ‘heliocentric’” began to draw blanks all the way around, I figured I probably needed to dial it down.

But first it was time for a little fun.

A little more than a year ago, I wrote of Daughter No. 3’s bible acumen, or lack thereof. She’s sharp as a tack, an excellent writer and is on the advanced track at her school. However, it should also be noted that she is far, far down the recruiting chart for the local chapter of the Sisters of Perpetual Prayer.

Daughter No. 3, you may or may not recall, is the one who described Adam and Eve as having fallen victim to “Forbidden Fruit Theory” – which involved, according to her, the pair eating poisonous peaches in the Garden of Eden.

So, guessing my 13-year old’s bible knowledge hadn’t increased markedly over the past year, I announced we’d play another game of Jeopardy, but with different categories.

“All right,” I announced, “the categories are: The Old Testament, the New Testament, Geography of the Bible, Translating the Bible over the Centuries, and Major and Minor Prophets.

Daughter No. 3 was seated in the front passenger seat and I as I drove: I could see her expression out of the corner of my eye. It could best be described as dumbfounded dismay, with her face crinkling up like a balled-up newspaper.

“Caroline,” I said to her, “you want to go first?”

She proceeded to give me one of those looks. Head titled down, eyes peering up, slight frown on face. “I don’t think so, dad. That’s not Jeopardy – that’s all bible stuff!”

“So? What’s wrong with having questions about the bible? They have bible questions on the real Jeopardy, right?”

“Yeah, but not every category! You can’t have every question be about the bible. It’s not fair.”

I looked at her for a moment with a smile. “You only think it’s unfair because you don’t know much about the bible, right?”

“I know some things,” she responded (apparently at least one word in nearly every teen’s sentence has to be heavily emphasized).

“Really,” I replied. “Well, let’s see what you know.”

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