X MARKS THE SPOT One Generation's Quest for the Truth We're about to go on a journey into the minds of Generation X - those dreaded and feared Americans who grew up in the 1980s. Illustrations by Greg Tucker

Many of you are probably shuddering at the thought of this journey. Even scarier is the prospect of trying to bring the light of truth to such a dismal place. But I implore you to take the challenge and let me be your guide, to helping you understand how to get the job done.

Talkin’ about my generation

The first time I heard the term “Generation X,” I was in high school. I was surprised to find that I was being lumped in with a group of people who cared about nothing: not the past, not the future, and certainly not the here-and-now. These young people had no goals, hopes, or dreams. They just wanted to hang out.

“Generation X.” Everywhere I looked, I was bombarded by the term. Every major publication ran some story about how my generation was just floating through life and would never amount to anything. We were going to be the first generation to make less money than our parents, and be less educated than our parents. We were called slackers who wore two or three flannel shirts and went for days without showering just to get that extra-greasy hair look. The males among us, allegedly, never shaved, regardless of our ability to grow a beard; if we couldn’t grow a beard, we just cultivated random patches of facial hair.
I was quite offended by all of this. I had dreams. I had hopes. And I cared about lots of things. I was going to be a computer programmer (making more money than my parents, by the way). As for less educated? At age seventeen, my education was already beginning to rival my parents’. I must, however, admit that I did wear my thrift-store flannels; and, being a very greasy teen, I could get that unshowered-for-days look by wearing a hat for a few hours. As for the facial hair . . . well, at twenty-six, I’m still waiting.

I encountered a second definition of the term in the fall of 1993, in Douglas Coupland’s novel, Generation X. It’s about a group of twentysomethings who have left “real jobs” (e.g., advertising executive) and moved to California to find themselves by taking on such new roles as bartender at a resort. They all marched away from what society was selling them as success to find what they really believed in and wanted to be.

All of a sudden, Generation X was revolutionary. Generation X was hip. I wanted to claim my birthright as a member of that generation, as part of a very subtle cultural revolution. The world was casting us as slackers, but, in reality, we were countercultural seekers trying to find what was real in our lives. Ours wasn’t one of those cheesy backpacking journeys someone takes after college just to hide from responsibility. Ours was a real quest for truth.

Let’s get real

It’s fair to say that the true nature of my generation can be found somewhere between slacker and seeker. Unfortunately, the term “Generation X,” like most overused media and pop culture terms, was both incomplete and overloaded. It became another hapless victim of political and social rhetoric loaded with stereotyping baggage. I’m going to use the term “children of the ‘80s” instead. This group is anyone who is in their twenties today; they spent some part of their childhood in the ‘80s.

Children of the ‘80s were the first generation to spend a significant amount of time by themselves. We were the first generation to come home from school without a parent at home. This grew out of two conditions. The first being a newly prevalent single-parent household, the second being the high number of mothers entering the workforce. As a result of spending little time with our parents — they didn’t have it to give — we began to define our worth by what our parents could give us . . . things.

Now, I’m not going to rail against the Baby Boomers. Though the end result may not have been the most desirable, there were very good reasons for us seeing little of them. For instance, in single-parent households, the parent was left with few options. He or she had to work full-time in order to make ends meet. There was also a new type of pressure being felt by all households. For most of America’s history, most families did not live the life of luxury. But, in the lifetime of Baby Boomers, luxury was starting to be realized by the average man. Since it was available, Baby Boomers wanted to provide everything they could for their children. In order to do this, either both parents had to work, or one parent had to work very long hours. In both cases, the absentee Boomer parent was motivated out of love. Still, their children began to see value in terms of the things that were being acquired. Eventually, even personal worth became related to things.

This sense of the value of things was reinforced by popular culture. On Thursday evenings in the late ‘80s, I used to watch “The Cosby Show” and the daily life of the Huckstable family — a family led by a successful doctor/lawyer parent-team. After that, I watched another well-off family — the Keatons — solve all of their “Family Ties” problems. Mr. and Mrs. Keaton had three kids (Alex, Mallory, and Jennifer) who forsook their parents’ 1960s ideals for ideals of their own. Alex’s concern was money, Mallory’s concern was boys, and Jennifer concerned herself with popularity and grades. There is very little wonder that, as a seventh grader, I couldn’t understand why anyone would want to tell a “yuppie” joke. Why would you bash such a wonderful lifestyle?

When I grew up, my life was going to look like this . . . [HARP ARPEGGIOS FADE UP, AS THE SCENE CROSSFADES TO A DAYDREAM]: I would be a computer scientist in some major city. I would have a beautiful home in that city. It would have hardwood floors, very expensive wicker furniture, a large vase filled with flowers in the corner of the living room, large windows letting in lots of sun, and a green Range Rover parked out front. I would be married to a very cute wife who was smart, funny and also had a good job.

Notice the lack of accomplishments or society-enriching goals above. We were growing up in a time when shopping was mistaken for creativity. Americans of all ages were defining themselves by the stuff they had. Our dreams for the future were defined by the stuff we were going to have.

Time passed, and the children of the ‘80s grew up. Some of us went to college, some of us to the “real world.” Those of us who did the latter have also done something very odd. Most of us have either not gotten married, or got married at a later age than any generation before us. Those of us who did get married are having children much later. Many of us who went to college didn’t go straight to that “real” world from there. Instead, we went off to give our lives to a few years of community service. Those of us who are in the workforce because of the tech-based economy are making more money faster than the generations which preceded us. We’re not a generation of newlyweds trying to make enough money to feed and shelter ourselves, care for a newborn, and still put a little away to someday buy our dream house. We’re a generation with wealth and, in many cases, no one to take care of beside ourselves. I have friends who, at twenty-four, are able to buy homes — city homes, no less.

The summer between my junior and senior years of college, I worked as a computer programmer in Bloomington, Illinois. You’d be hard pressed to find a more middle-American town. While there, older co-workers introduced me to a new term: “golden handcuffs.”

Everyone I worked with was paid well for their work. They weren’t paid as much as they would make in a much larger city; but since the cost of living was lower in Bloomington, their salaries went far. Everything they needed, they had. A good job. A solid community. Good schools for their children. Life was golden, but they couldn’t easily go elsewhere. In fact, it would’ve been very difficult. They had no guarantee that a job with greater pay would really be a benefit, if it meant moving to a town with a higher cost of living. They didn’t know if they could find as good a school system. Life was golden, but they felt that their choices had been greatly limited. They were wearing “golden handcuffs.”

Children of the ‘80s have no such handcuffs. We’ve got all the money we need and no strings attached to us. We have an odd sense of freedom. Part of this comes from the fact that we’re not taking care of someone else but I’m sure that it’s also due in part to a bit of naiveté. We don’t feel, and have never felt, vulnerable. We grew up in a time of excess. We’ve never known what it’s like to go without on a very large scale. We’ve never had to ration gas, or food, or anything else for a war effort. We’ve never truly lived in a time when America feared outside forces. The Cold War ended while we were still children. The closest thing to a war we experienced was the Gulf War with its smart bombs, that seemed to us like just another video game. Because of the times in which we were raised, we don’t have enough worldly experience or sense to be scared.
Also, life is supposed to be a set of steps. We’re born. We go to grade school. We go to middle school. We go to high school. We go to college. We get jobs. We get married. We have kids. We raise kids. We retire. These are the very simple steps our culture informs us that our lives are supposed to follow. When one step is taken, the next is very clear. The children of the ‘80s have followed this path, to a point, and are starting to realize that it’s not for us. Some of us have found jobs, but we don’t feel fulfilled. Some of us are in college, looking at the working world and wondering if that’s where we belong. Others have gotten married, realized the responsibility and time commitment of having children, and decided we don’t want that in our lives right now.

This brings us to the crux of our problem. We’re not compelled to live the lives our culture would expect of us. We’re not scared of a future that compels us to have good paying jobs as a form of security. We’re not compelled to squirrel away our extra nickels and dimes for houses. We don’t feel (for right or wrong) like the grasshopper who’s saving up for the lurking danger of winter. We have nothing culturally to compel us to act. Nothing seems to threaten our comfort, which is both a blessing and a curse. The blessing: we have the freedom to be anything we’d like to be. The curse: we have to decide what we want to be.

No big deal. Right? We’ll just pull ourselves out of our patterns and go to . . . ummm . . . go to . . . errrr.
That’s the problem. Where to go? We want to be the people who have joy. I’m not saying that we expect every day to be like an ultra-cool cookout from a beer commercial. We do have our cool moments, and we enjoy them. But life needs to be more. It needs direction. It needs a point. The question, “Who do I want to be?” is more than “What job do I want to have?” It really means, “What life do I want to have that will bring me joy?”

Joy . . . and that would be what?

Unfortunately, we don’t have the tools we need to answer that question. The tools we have, we gained in the ‘80s, and they’re all market-based. The value of all things is based on what they can be traded for. I will trade forty (or fifty or sixty) hours a week in order to have “x,” “y,” and “z” things. 

Things aren’t bad in and of themselves. They aren’t evil. But they don’t address the question of joy. Children of the ‘80s want to ask that question, but struggle because they have no idea how to go about answering it.
We’re a generation looking for something genuine in our lives. We crave spirituality. If you doubt this, turn on the TV or go to the movies. You’ll find huge numbers of shows about the supernatural (some in healthy forms, many that are not). Those shows aren’t popular because we like science fiction, but because we have a real longing for a grasp of the supernatural. Even more than having a craving for truth, we have a lifestyle which allows us the financial resources and geographic mobility we need to go out looking for it. Hollywood understands this and is cashing in with little concern for consequences.
The children of the ‘80s are very fertile soil for truth. We want it. The Church knows that, but we present a real challenge for her in trying to give it to us. We are, sad to say, very skeptical of the world. We have grown up in an atmosphere of tabloid journalism and mass commercialism. We’re conditioned to look for the sales pitch, the con, the swindle, in everything that is presented to us. Because of this, we have become very savvy shoppers for everything: tires, cars, even our belief systems. We’re not going to buy into something simply because someone says we’re supposed to. Faith has to be presented as something other than stuffy rules. It needs to be something more real.

I can hear the objections now. “He wants us to dumb-down the Faith and present Catholicism Lite, so his generation will buy it.”

Actually, I’m saying just the opposite. The children of the ‘80s can see right through baloney. We can spot the disingenuous from a mile away. Remember, we have over-educated minds which are greatly underused (something is wrong when the largest problem you ponder in a year is the season finale cliffhanger of “Friends”). We need more than the mere words of a presentation of faith. We’ve been bombarded with presentations, in many forms of media, our whole lives. We need a challenge. Because faith is a challenge. Because there are no simple answers.

So, how does the Church — or anyone — evangelize the children of the ‘80s? I’ll sum it up simply: the Eucharist. All right, maybe not so simply.

For children of the ‘80s, success was about what we could have, not what we could become. We can’t become a car. We can’t become a secure job. We can only have these things. Children of the ‘80s do have these things, and have found that they don’t make life complete.

You can, however, become the Eucharist. The Eucharist is thanksgiving. The Eucharist is nourishment. The Eucharist is a real connection to Jesus. It’s something that flows through your veins. It’s also a state of being, an orientation to the world, and a source of joy. It’s everything the children of the ‘80s want. So, your mission is clear: find the nearest children of the ‘80s and start letting them know about the ramifications the Eucharist can have in their lives.

Wait a minute. I’ve already told you that won’t work because we’re suspicious of presentations and words. And that’s true. We’ve been given too many that didn’t mean anything. But, does that mean all is lost? Not at all. Words alone won’t do it, but children of the ‘80s will see truth if they experience the Eucharist; if it’s presented not just in words but in other forms: genuine, sincere forms. Basically, the Eucharist needs to be reflected in the lives of the people who would call us to it because the Eucharist itself is a call to all who partake of it who put on Christ and become that Body of Christ. It’s a transformation.

The Christian rock group, dcTalk, has a song called “What If I Stumble.” It starts with, “The great cause of atheism in the world today is Christians who proclaim Jesus on their lips and then walk out the door and deny him with their lifestyles. That is what an unbelieving world simply finds unbelievable.” And they’re right. You’ll never convince a child of the ‘80s that we’re all the Body of Christ if your life does not reflect your membership in that Body. When truth is actualized, displayed in a life, it can’t be denied. People who are craving it can’t help but see it, be drawn to it, and find purpose and meaning to existence in it.
In addition to living eucharistic truth, you’ve also got to emphasize the actual celebration of the Blessed Sacrament. For children of the ‘80s to embrace that celebration, it must be alive. Since we come to the eucharistic table to be nourished, our celebration at that table should be life-giving. Again, we’re looking for something that we can become. We’re used to participating. We’re not a generation to sit idly by, watching. We’re on a quest of transformation, a very proactive quest.

It would be easy, at this point, to accuse me of wanting the Mass turned into a show: something flashy that will keep people my age in our seats. That’s not what I’m saying. All I’m saying is this: if the Mass does not genuinely feel like the celebration, the thanksgiving that it is, then it’s going to be difficult to get my generation to believe in it as a celebration. If it doesn’t feel like the congregation is participating, how is anyone going to believe they’re invited to participate? If you truly participate in the Eucharist, you should walk away from that banquet changed, every time.

Children of the ‘80s don’t want a show that plays to them, they want a celebration that invites them to joy. I spend a lot of time on the road each year working with high school students and am consistently amazed to hear the stories young people tell of the Eucharist, once they feel that they’re part of it. This happens when they find a Mass that speaks to them. They don’t always say that the Mass speaks to them just because it has contemporary music or other “production values.” It speaks to them because they have pastors who give homilies which speak to their point in life. It speaks to them because there are adults in the parish who care about them. It speaks to them because, when they’re at that Mass, they feel loved; thus, they’re more open to participating in what’s happening . . . and believing in it.

Right now you may be wondering when I’m going to tell you to saddle up the cavalry, charge into battle and bring the children of the ‘80s to truth. You may be wondering what conversational points you need to bring up in order to get them in the door of your parish church. I’m not going to do that. Most of us come to truth small kernels at a time. Very few of us experience the heavens parting and angels descending with messages from God. Children of the ‘80s have a great opportunity to be led to truth, because they’re looking for something real of it after two decades of cultural illusions. The only thing that will lead them to truth is the experience in their lives. My favorite quote from St. Francis of Assisi simply reads, “Preach the Gospel at all times. If necessary use words.”

When words become necessary

One of the ways that you can express truth is in the story of your life. People who are searching are going to ask questions. When they come across people who have found peace in their own lives, they’re going to ask how and why. One thing you need to be able to do is articulate your own faith story. This is something Catholics don’t do very well. We know what we believe, we may want to lead others to truth, but we don’t want to open ourselves up. When someone asks you, “Why are you here? Why do you believe this?” you can’t just respond, “Let me get back to you.” Or, even worse, “It’s what I was raised to believe.” When you can tell your own story, it’s an opportunity to talk about how you came to believe; and about truth in very specific terms.

If a child of the '80s asks why you believe what you do, and you simply start quoting the Catechism, they’re going to turn off. But if you first share the story of how you came to believe what you do, you’ll open the door to explaining the catechetical specifics of those beliefs. The question, remember, was about you. Your story, in that instance, is the first apologetics tool you should reach for. We all love stories. When we become engaged in one, living it out in some small way, we’re able to accept the truth that story has to offer. That’s the key to reaching the children of the ‘80s — okay, okay, Generation X.

I'm not saying that you shouldn't speak to the children of the '80s in your attempts to reach out. I'm not saying that you shouldn't challenge us to live faithful lives and seek truth. I think those actions are givens in trying to evangelize truth to others. But, if truth isn't actualized in the life you live, in your celebrations of the Faith, you'll have no more credibility with Generation X than an infomercial on late-night cable.  

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