Recently, speakers at our yearly conference said that men need to step up for the church. Interestingly, none of the speakers elaborated. Several months ago, an employee of my organization lamented the lack of male presence on mission. The problems are the same; young men who want to be heroes are afraid of real risk, and the church does not ask them to suffer.

Many of the parishes I have attended have had in common a fear of persecution by society. Social norms encourage behaviors that Christians cannot condone. Companies toe the line to avoid backlash. We tell ourselves that we are not responsible for the beliefs of others; we live and let live. We tell ourselves that we are not our employers; we are just doing our jobs. We murmur. As we breathe the changing air, we turn to any course other than a response. Faced with the Trolley Problem, we stand by the lever. In our shoes, early Christians stood on the tracks.

Mission is no exception. We receive odd looks and sarcastic comments, but no one (that I know of) plans to have me crucified. Young men want to display courage, and we do not show them a shadow of it. Men in the faith treat the church as an activity. Those who “get involved” typically dive into its academics by mastering church lore like a fan might explore a fictional universe. Others carry up the processional cross and read for Mass. Some missionaries try to emulate heroism through shared physical challenges. It all remains within the mesh walls of a Catholic hobbyist Pack ’n Play.

Without opportunities for real sacrifice, college men make due with risk tourism. They haze and drink at the frat house. They sweat and bleed on the sports field and in the weight room. The specter of death is welcome so long as it looms temporarily and goes when dismissed.

Unfortunately, modern emphasis on material security makes risk and liability in “real life” feel worse than sin. Notably, many of the young men on my campus say that they wish that they had fought in the crusades. In the same breath, they describe their plans to work for unscrupulous companies. The schizophrenic disconnect between their daydreams and decisions is the duality of Christian man caught in a militantly atheistic civilization and told to steer clear of its teeth.

Admittedly, sacrifice in such a scenario is easier said than done. Persecution looks heroic in movies. Not so here. No red crown awaits the young Catholic office dweller, student, or missionary no longer willing to tacitly accept norms that history has uniformly opposed. Only red tape. Imagine it. Few would recognize the principle behind his objection, let alone care. His stand would not survive an email or a trip to HR or student affairs. Its memory would die immediately in the minds of the half dozen people who heard about it.

Not that anyone should flip his desk and storm out of his building. Don’t do that. However, the attitude common to my students speaks to the original conundrum. We envision grandeur. Grandeur is not there. Instead of accepting less, the fear of soft persecution has kept us from even assessing the intolerable components of our circumstances. In turn, we play privately with bravery while men outside the church see no one fight for it.

If the church wants men, then it must ask them to suffer for her. Perhaps we are only a speed bump. Better that than a doormat. Young men without dependents must act on what our faith demands in spite of what the world approves, come what may. The rest must do what they can. The Lord may not expect us to wear the red crown. He does expect those able to button the red collar. In Greek the word “martyr” means “witness,” but men cannot witness what they do not see.

Deo Gratias.