Tweeting with GOD in Holland
‘Have a blessed Sunday’, I wish the parishioners with a handshake outside the door of our sunlit Leiden parish church on this spring day in 2010. ‘Father, are there really angels in heaven?’ A blonde girl with her little niece on her arm addresses me, and continues without taking a breath: ‘Doesn’t the Big Bang rule out faith in God? But seriously, did all that Adam and Eve business really happen?’ Her boyfriend smiles forgivingly as he tries to lead her away. Suddenly he turns around and asks: ‘Should I be afraid of purgatory? When will the end of time come about?’ A timid brown-haired girl comes forward and asks: ‘Am I allowed to sleep during the homily? Jesus forgives, but how can I forgive myself and others?’ And her petite friend does not leave any time for an answer as she adds: ‘What’s the deal with miracles, magic, and the occult? Are exorcisms to drive out devils real?’
No taboos
I raise my hands in defence against these quick-fire questions. ‘Whoo, stop!’ I cry out laughingly, ‘I love speaking about your questions after Sunday Mass, but this is too much, for I have another Mass elsewhere. Why don’t you write down your questions and send these to me?’ That final sentence seals my fate… I do not realise it yet, but a good part of my mission during the next decades will emerge from that one remark to young people to send me their questions. For they take my words literally and send me over a thousand questions by Twitter, other social media, on paper… The interactive multimedia initiative Tweeting with GOD is born.
We agree to meet every fortnight after evening Mass on Tuesdays. During more than two hours we engage in a deep dialogue about all their questions, taking these one by one. There are no taboos and everyone can voice any opinion. I just ask them to give reasons and arguments for their position, and to take care not to hurt other people. Of the 1000 questions some are repeated or can be discussed at the same time, others are too personal for public dialogue, but we have a solid basis for our conversation for the coming years. And we discover quickly that one answer leads to more questions! We conclude every meeting with prayer in the chapel, for all that talking only makes sense if it brings us closer to Jesus. And it does!
Bar ministry
One evening, as I am about to turn in after a long day, some young people call at the door. ‘Father, we are in the pub having a discussion with our atheist friends about the Big Bang we discussed yesterday evening. But we need you to explain it properly’. With a brief look of regret at my bed, I go down to meet them. As we enter the pub, a middle-aged man hanging out at the bar raises his middle finger at my priestly collar. But a loud group of students I have not met before grabs my arm and says: ‘Tell us, you seem to have something with religion. Is God okay with us offering you a drink?’ I laughingly tell them I will accept their peace offering in a minute.
After an interesting dialogue with ‘my’ young people and their atheist friends, I hold the students to their word and join their group. They have some fascinating questions about human existence and divine intervention. They have never heard anyone speak about God with conviction and their only experience remotely connected to religion were some yoga classes and a film about an abusive priest. To my delight, the next Sunday I see two of them in our church for Mass. One of them will keep coming and ask for baptism one day. Not a bad result for a few hours of sleep depredation. If only we could see the outcome of our ministry more often…
Station priest
A few weeks later I am munching a sandwich on a bench while waiting for my bus at the main station on a sunny day. A girl hesitantly approaches me and says: ‘You don’t know me, but can I ask you something?’ As she sits down at my invitation, she tells me about a dream she had. She wonders whether Jesus is asking her something. After a good conversation she leaves my bench greatly relieved.
Immediately a boy comes forward and asks: ‘May I now? I do not know what I have to do. I am addicted to drugs, and this destroys my marriage. My wife is so wonderful and I feel so bad. Does God still love me?’ Again we have a very deep conversation. It is with new strength that he gets up with the intention to go home and fight this battle together with his wife. God works everywhere, even at this bus stop! It reminds me of the purpose of the priestly collar, which breaks barriers and apparently allows people to feel free to speak of their inmost experiences. There is so much desire for hope!
