Home schooled

The lessons I learned at home still guide and inspire me today

Bishop Edward B. Scharfenberger

“The Holy Scriptures were not given to us that we should enclose them in books but that we 
should engrave them in our hearts.” — St. John Chrysostom

Food has always been for me an indelible mark and memory of home. No, I am not Italian. Mealtime, however, always stood for a gathering, not a scattering point, for my family when I was growing up. “It’s time for supper!” That meant dad and mom were home and all of us — my four siblings and I — were summoned to the family table for dinner and ... I say “dinner and …” because it was never just about the food. True, my mom was professionally a dietician, and meals were well-planned and executed, usually homemade, as in real pies and soups made from scratch. Although we enjoyed occasional experiments with Swanson’s chicken pot pies (not bad) and the “TV dinners,” novel at the time and just for the fun of it, preparations began long before dinner time.

Food shopping was something we often enjoyed together. Learning how to beat eggs, flour and sugar in a mixer and taste cookie dough was every bit a part of my “home schooling” as repeating catechism lessons and reciting times tables. No, we did not always like everything on the table, like stew and liver (not my favorites, at least), but we ate it together, with our feet under the same table. There were no fast-food delivery orders that could be called in, picked up at the door and squirreled away into private dens with screens and earphones. We ate the same food — together. And we prayed! A meal never started until everyone sat down and someone started the prayer: “Bless us, O Lord …”

Conversations always happened. About school, work, what was happening in the family, in church, the neighborhood and around the world. True, our community was fairly close-knit. We knew most of the folks on the block, those who were “Protestant” and those who were Catholic. The names and breeds of everyone’s dogs. Who was “poor” and who had “drinking problems.” My parents, however, taught us to be charitable. When we shoveled snow, we always learned to clear at least a little part on our neighbor’s side. 

Only years later did it dawn on me how this nightly ritual, that included and celebrated God, family and the environment as essential elements, was stamped in our hearts and souls as a kind of spiritual tattoo. It fostered an awareness in my family members about how, as human beings, we do not just chow down to relieve hunger pains but, in dining together, experience a form of personal growth and community building. Call it the domestic church in its most basic form, it gave us a good foundation for the ecclesial awareness often absent in our churches today.

By “ecclesial awareness” or consciousness, I mean a kind of emotional intelligence by which we feel a certain basic connection among God, those with whom we worship, and the larger community around us, including our natural environment. This foundation at home helped us develop a sense of church as family and not just a service station where we go to a place called church to “get” sacraments, or to collect brownie points in our spiritual bank that we hope we will cash in when (and if) we get to the pearly gates.

When we attended Mass, we would be less likely to fall for the temptation of separating the reception of Holy Communion from the people we worshipped with and the places we gathered wherein God connects us all. To grow in being holy, one might say, has some to do with being “holistic.” What we do in church is not just about getting a product — a holy morsel of divinity, as it were — but becoming a more mature and engaged human being, sent into the world God loves in order to let God’s love be seen and felt where we go, and with whomever we encounter, especially those in danger of feeling left out or disregarded, with those in the margins, as Pope Francis often says.

I think of family, centered around meals, and the preparations, prayer and conversations surrounding them — even the cleaning of the table and the washing of dishes that followed — as the heart of “home schooling,” whether or not the family also participates more formally in catechetical and educational formation at home, as has grown in popularity in recent years. Even those families who are blessed to send their children to Catholic schools or to religious education programs must somehow, in a very dedicated and conscious way, reinforce the lessons learned with “real life” practice of how they are lived out.

The quote at the start of this article from St. John Chrysostom reminds us that true religion that helps us to grow in holiness, as full human beings, is more than memorizing the catechism or being able to quote passages from the Bible. Our faith must take root in our hearts. From earliest times, people knew who Christians were by the way in which they behaved, both at home and on the street. How they treated their neighbors. Their dedication to community service and their respect for the customs and laws of their land. 

As we face so many challenges in our own country today, including the serious immigration crisis, and how to support efforts to correct the dangers and disruptions that have led to so much crime, insecurity and the exploitation of so many innocent lives, we must remember our witness as Christians. We obey just laws and respect those who enforce them. We come to the aid and assistance of people everywhere who are in need and in danger, always with a view toward promoting the common good as well. These are lessons I learned at home and that guide me still. They inspire me today and, hopefully, others to prayer and action, as my episcopal motto proclaims, “Lord, make me an instrument of your peace!”