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    The Weekly Sift

    making sense of the news one week at a time

    The Distress of the Privileged
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    In a memorable scene from the 1998 film Pleasantville (in which two 1998 teen-agers are transported into the black-and-white world of a 1950s TV show), the father of the TV-perfect Parker family returns from work and says the magic words “Honey, I’m home!”, expecting them to conjure up a smiling wife, adorable children, and dinner on the table.

    This time, though, it doesn’t work. No wife, no kids, no food. Confused, he repeats the invocation, as if he must have said it wrong. After searching the house, he wanders out into the rain and plaintively questions this strangely malfunctioning Universe: “Where’s my dinner?”

    Privileged distress. I’m not bringing this up just to discuss old movies. As the culture evolves, people who benefitted from the old ways invariably see themselves as victims of change. The world used to fit them like a glove, but it no longer does. Increasingly, they find themselves in unfamiliar situations that feel unfair or even unsafe. Their concerns used to take center stage, but now they must compete with the formerly invisible concerns of others.

    If you are one of the newly-visible others, this all sounds whiny compared to the problems you face every day. It’s tempting to blast through such privileged resistance with anger and insult.

    Tempting, but also, I think, a mistake. The privileged are still privileged enough to foment a counter-revolution, if their frustrated sense of entitlement hardens.

    So I think it’s worthwhile to spend a minute or two looking at the world from George Parker’s point of view: He’s a good 1950s TV father. He never set out to be the bad guy. He never meant to stifle his wife’s humanity or enforce a dull conformity on his kids. Nobody ever asked him whether the world should be black-and-white; it just was.

    George never demanded a privileged role, he just uncritically accepted the role society assigned him and played it to the best of his ability. And now suddenly that society isn’t working for the people he loves, and they’re blaming him.

    It seems so unfair. He doesn’t want anybody to be unhappy. He just wants dinner.

    Levels of distress. But even as we accept the reality of George’s privileged-white-male distress, we need to hold on to the understanding that the less privileged citizens of Pleasantville are distressed in an entirely different way. (Margaret Atwood is supposed to have summed up the gender power-differential like this: “Men are afraid women will laugh at them. Women are afraid men will kill them.”)

    George deserves compassion, but his until-recently-ideal housewife Betty Parker (and the other characters assigned subservient roles) deserves justice. George and Betty’s claims are not equivalent, and if we treat them the same way, we do Betty an injustice.

    Tolerating Dan Cathy. Now let’s look at a more recent case from real life.

    One of the best things to come out of July’s Chick-fil-A brouhaha was a series of posts on the Owldolatrous blog, in which a gay man (Wayne Self) did his best to wrangle the distress of the privileged.

    The privileged in this case are represented by Chick-fil-A president Dan Cathy, who stirred up a hornet’s nest when he denounced the “prideful, arrogant attitude” of those who support same-sex marriage, saying that they “are inviting God’s judgment on our nation”.

    His comments drew attention to the millions that Chick-fil-A’s founding family has contributed to anti-gay organizations, and led to calls for a boycott of their restaurants.

    To which his defenders responded: Is tolerance a one-way street? Cathy was just expressing the genuine beliefs of his faith. As an American, he has freedom of speech and freedom of religion. Why can’t gays and their supporters respect that?

    “Nothing mutual about it.” Self starts his post by acknowledging Cathy’s distress, but refusing to accept it as equivalent to his own. Cathy is suffering because people are saying bad things about him and refusing to buy his sandwiches. Meanwhile, 29 states (including Self’s home state of Louisiana) let employers fire gays for being gay. There are 75 countries Self and his partner can’t safely visit, because homosexuality is illegal and (in some of them) punishable by death.

    The Cathy family has given $5 million to organizations that work to maintain this state of oppression. Self comments:

    This isn’t about mutual tolerance because there’s nothing mutual about it. If we agree to disagree on this issue, you walk away a full member of this society and I don’t. There is no “live and let live” on this issue because Dan Cathy is spending millions to very specifically NOT let me live. I’m not trying to do that to him.

    Christian push-back. That post got over a million page views and (at last count) 1595 comments, including some push-back from conservative Christians. Self’s follow-up responded to one commenter who wrote that he supported Chick-fil-A as

    [a] company with a founder who speaks for what seems to be the minority these days.

    In other words, I specifically feel BASHED by the general media and liberal establishment and gay activists for simply being a Bible-believing Christian. From TV shows, movies, mainstream news and music, so much is Intolerance of my conservative beliefs. I am labeled a HOMOPHOBIC and a HATER. … I neither fear nor hate homosexuals.

    Self brings in a blog post by Bristol Palin, in which she scoffs at an interviewer’s implication that she might refuse to have a gay partner on “Dancing With the Stars”.

    In their simplistic minds, the fact that I’m a Christian, that I believe in God’s plan for marriage, means that I must hate gays and must hate to even be in their presence. Well, they were right about one thing: there was hate in that media room, but the hate was theirs, not mine.

    … To the Left, “tolerance” means agreeing with them on, well, everything. To me, tolerance means learning to live and work with each other when we don’t agree – and won’t ever agree.

    Like Bristol Palin, Self’s commenter sees himself as the victim of bigotry. He isn’t aware of hating anybody. He just wants to preserve the world he grew up in, and can’t be bothered to picture how others suffer in that world.

    He wants dinner.

    Aesop II. Self answers with a story: a sequel to the Aesop fable of the mouse who saves a lion.

    [A story is] the only way I know to address some of these things without resorting to words that hurt or offend, or shut down discussion.

    Aesop’s tale ends with the mouse and the lion as friends, but Self notes that they are still not equal: The Lion is King of the Jungle and the Mouse … is a mouse.

    In Self’s sequel, the Lion hosts the Kingdom Ball, to which mice are never invited, because they disgust many of the larger animals. Nothing personal, the Lion explains to his friend, it’s just the way things are.

    At this point, Self breaks out of the story to explain why (in spite of the fact that his commenter feels “BASHED by the general media and liberal establishment”) he is casting conservative Christians as the Lion and gays as the Mouse: It is not illegal to be a Christian in any state. You can’t be fired for Christianity. Christians may feel bashed by criticism, but gays get literally bashed by hate crimes. Christians may feel like people are trying to silence them, but the Tennessee legislature debated a bill making it illegal to say the word gay in public schools. (The senate passed it.)

    There is a vast difference between being told you’re superstitious or old-fashioned and being told you’re an abomination that doesn’t deserve to live. There’s a vast difference between being told you’re acting hateful and being told God hates you.

    I’ve been gay and Christian all my life. Trust me: Christian is easier. It’s not even close.

    Leonine distress. But does the Lion have reason to be annoyed with the Mouse? Of course. The Mouse is making trouble by asking to go where he’s not wanted. The Mouse is “prideful” for expecting the rules to change to suit him. However, Self admits that the Lion probably doesn’t hate or fear the Mouse.

    I don’t think you hate me. I certainly don’t think you’re afraid of me. Neither is Bristol Palin. She probably even has LGBT people she calls friends. She just disagrees with them about whether they should be invited to the party (the party, in this case, being marriage).

    But here’s the problem: the basis of that disagreement is her belief that her relationships are intrinsically better than ours.

    There’s a word for this type of statement: supremacist.

    Ah, now we get to “words that hurt or offend”. Here’s what he means by it:

    Supremacy is the habit of believing or acting as if your life, your love, your culture, your self has more intrinsic worth than those of people who differ from you.

    Self sees a supremacist attitude in the commenter’s

    sense of comfort with yourself as an appropriate judge of my choices, ideas, or behaviors, … unwillingness to appreciate the inherent inequality in a debate where I have to ask you for equality … [and] unwillingness to acknowledge the stake that you have have in your feeling of superiority rather than blame it on God.

    […]Now let’s finish the fable: Uninvited, the Mouse crashes the party. The shocked guests go silent, the Lion is furious, and the ensuing argument leads to violence: The Lion chucks the Mouse out the window, ending both the party and the friendship.

    The lesson: Supremacy itself isn’t hate. You may even have affection for the person you feel superior to. But supremacy contains the seeds of hate.

    Supremacy turns to hate when the feeling of innate superiority is openly challenged. … Supremacy is why you and Bristol Palin have more outrage at your own inconvenience than at the legitimate oppression of others.

    We can talk about the subjugation of women later, honey. Where’s my dinner?

    George Parker’s choices. All his life, George has tried to be a good guy by the lights of his society. But society has changed and he hasn’t, so he isn’t seen as a good guy any more. He feels terrible about that, but what can he do?

    One possibility: Maybe he could learn to be a good guy by the lights of this new society. It would be hard. He’d have to give up some of his privileges. He’d have to examine his habits to see which ones embody assumptions of supremacy. He’d have to learn how to see the world through the eyes of others, rather than just assume that they will play their designated social roles. Early on, he would probably make a lot of mistakes and his former inferiors would correct him. It would be embarrassing.

    But there is an alternative: counter-revolution. George could decide that his habits, his expectations, and the society they fit are RIGHT, and this new society is WRONG. If he joined with the other fathers (and right-thinking mothers like the one in the poster) of Pleasantville, maybe they could force everyone else back into their traditional roles.

    Which choice he makes will depend largely on the other characters. If they aren’t firm in their convictions, the counter-revolution may seem easy. (“There, there, honey. I know you’re upset. But be reasonable.”) But if their resentment is implacable, becoming a good guy in the new world may seem impossible.

    […]Confronting this distress is tricky, because neither acceptance nor rejection is quite right. The distress is usually very real, so rejecting it outright just marks you as closed-minded and unsympathetic. It never works to ask others for empathy without offering it back to them.

    At the same time, my straight-white-male sunburn can’t be allowed to compete on equal terms with your heart attack. To me, it may seem fair to flip a coin for the first available ambulance, but it really isn’t. Don’t try to tell me my burn doesn’t hurt, but don’t consent to the coin-flip.

  • As always – as the holidays approach, have passed, or are in the process of going this month –, I just want to wish you all a Happy Hanukkah, Insightful Bodhi, Merry Christmas, and Solemn Ashura.

    You're fantastic people (regardless of whether you, yourself, believe it) and I'm glad to have met you all; I hope the holidays end up being the best for you.

  • By~ the
        wa~ters,
        the wa~ters of Babylon
    We laid down and we~pt,
        and we~pt
        for Israel
    We~ remember,
        we~ remember,
        we~ remember thee, Zion

    The~re on,
        the~re on,
        the~re on the poplars
    We hung up our ha~rps,
        when a~sked,
        when asked for songs
    Songs~ with joy, they
        called~ for joy, they
        called~ for songs from thee, Zion

    How~ can
        we~ sing
        the~ songs of the Lord
    While in foreign la~nd?
        strange la~nds
        Jerusalem
    If I~ forget thee,
        hands~, may they lose
        skill~ and tongue cleave for Zion

    Lo~rd, you
        sa~w when
        Je~rusalem fell
    Do you recall wha~t
        they cri~ed,
        Jerusalem?
    Tear~ it down
        tear~ it down
        tear~ its very foundation

    Daugh~ter, O
        daugh~ter, O
        daugh~ter of Babylon
    Heavy is our de~bt
        our de~bt
        and we want none…

  • I should really be going to bed.

    Our friend Ancient_Scribe recently shared, in a pulse, this article: http://www.catholicnewsagency.com/news/son-of-two-moms-defends-regnerus-study-on-same-sex-parenting/.

    This is a really simple matter so I'll try to be brief (if I actually hold that capability). While I hate to discount anyone's personal experience (the first rule of understanding is acknowledging there are other experiences beyond the ones you're familiar with; Mr. Lopez's full testimony can be found here: http://www.thepublicdiscourse.com/2012/08/6065), I'm going to assume that none of you are stupid and just acknowledge out the gate that articles such as these are used to discredit the notion of gay marriage (note my lack of scare quotes around the word marriage, unlike the article).

    However, the first point of criticism is the article's (and Mr. Lopez's testimony's) display of all the hallmarks of a piece written to fit a particular viewpoint (which often, in turn, defies lived experience). How?

    There's the never-failing-to-appear point that such behavior leads "one down a sodden path to self-medication in the form of alcoholism, drugs, gambling, antisocial behavior, and irresponsible sex". I once read an article from some site like Yahoo about a mother who (while dealing with her son's decent into homosexuality before he came back to his senses and "became" straight again) would have to tape her eyes shut when she went to bed at night because she cried so much (I don't believe such an endeavor would actually work…). Nothing like sensationalism to drive a point across.

    On that note, there's that hallmark expression of Mr. Lopez descending into the "gay underworld". Sounds scary. Particularly since it preys upon fears of a secretive society of homosexuals that are plotting to overtake your safe and cozy straight life (note that it also plays the card of the Other by literally creating another world of separation from what Mr. Lopez consider's normal). Of course, this is ridiculous. Really, underworld? Boy's Town in Chicago is literally just a 45 minute drive away for me. I've gone down there every pride parade I've attended. Friends of mine in high school have gone down there. There's nothing hidden or scary.

    There's the claim that being raised by two women rendered Mr. Lopez to having "very few recognizable social cues to offer potential male or female friends, since I was neither confident nor sensitive to others". Apparently the Lopez's didn't have T. V.s in their household. Or never left the house, for that matter. And apparently Mr. Lopez didn't go to school. But, you know what, I can somewhat understand. I flounder completely at social cues to give (as I've mentioned more than enough times on this Xanga) and find meeting (let alone befriending) other people difficult. It's not easy. But it's not life-ending.

    Then there's also this peculiar paragraph:

    Those who are 100-percent gay may view bisexuals with a mix of disgust and envy. Bisexual parents threaten the core of the LGBT parenting narrative—we do have a choice to live as gay or straight, and we do have to decide the gender configuration of the household in which our children will grow up. While some gays see bisexuality as an easier position, the fact is that bisexual parents bear a more painful weight on their shoulders. Unlike homosexuals, we cannot write off our decisions as things forced on us by nature. We have no choice but to take responsibility for what we do as parents, and live with the guilt, regret, and self-criticism forever.

    "Okay, alright, science says that being gay isn't a choice. Hmm, well, if we make the argument that those who have the choice to partake happily in heterosexual acts ought to [using the same evidence that's used when arguing that being gay is a choice, no less] then we still kinda win!" Honestly, you don't decide to live as gay or straight as a bisexual; just because I date mostly girls doesn't mean I live as a straight person. It's still trying to fit into a binary understanding of sexuality.

    But what makes the entire affair just hilarious is how disconnected from reality it is.

    I'm sorry that discovering you're bisexual caused you to run into the "gay underworld" and all the drugs and sex it must have contained (because gay people are inseperable from drugs and sex in these types of narratives). I'm bisexual too and – oh, wait, I'm still a virgin and I've never used illegal drugs, ever. I guess I just have self-control.

    Hey, look, Mr. Wahls above was raised by two women too. Except he looks rather well adjusted, doesn't he?

    Or I could appeal to my own life experiences and the people I've known raised in gay/bi households. People who were perfectly well adjusted and had plenty of friends.

    Or when a friend of mine, trying to appeal to how the past or the 50s (I forget which) was better, asked me if we had any decent male role-models these days. For the longest time, I didn't know how to formulate a reply. Here's why: what the Hell would that entail‽ Perhaps it's a generational gap but I can't begin to formulate how being neither confident nor sensitive would be a disability to getting to know a person. And, hence, I can't begin to figure out what it would mean to be, specifically, a male role-model since men (at least when I was growing up, in my traditional heterosexual household) could do anything they pleased. I know, I shouldn't be surprised but I always am whenever anyone lends actual legitimacy to the notion of gender roles (the family was watching a movie about Shakespeare the other day when my mother exclaims, "The king is wearing women's shoes!" This shift in gender roles is atrocious and I think we should all go back to the good old days when men wore feminine shoes, like is proper and natural؟).

     

    And, look, honestly, I am truly sorry if Mr. Lopez had a difficult time in his life because, for him specifically, he was raised by two women. I'm sorry that society was so cruel as to make life difficult for him just because he didn't fit their expectations. I imagine such worries plagued the first children of interracial marriages.

    But we should work to make society more understanding rather than bending to the current whims of today's society and, in turn, trying to make permanent its cruelties. Such behavior, even if under the guise of being practical or realistic, just continues to hurt people in the end.

  • If anything must be told about my spirituality, let it be said that intelligence was my religion, and education, my worship.

  • Because I can, at times, be of poor memory, and the remembrance of memories is all that is left of what ever happened:

    It was during finals period of this last school year. In my absolute anxiety, I hadn't bothered to've started writing my 15 page rough draft for my final paper for my WGSS senior seminar until the point that the paper was due. Between staying up and lightly sleeping in the hopes of even starting the damn thing, I had a raging headache by the time night had rolled around. Needless to say, I was miserably irate and depressed.

    As I was rushingly trying to finish this late draft, I happened to notice it was 10 or 11 and that Theology on Tap had started. Based off of a Catholic event that had started in Chicago, Williams's version was to get all of the chaplains together, and students would ask them any question they wished regarding religion. It's one of my favorite events of the year, not held too frequently, and I had already missed the last one or two times it had last occurred. I figured the brief escape might help my morale to some degree.

    I was partially wrong. A few students were questioning the history of the church and Father Caster was feeling harassed (I expect his family troubles didn't help to put him in any sort of calm and explaining mood). There wasn't much room, so I sat at the end of one of the benches and just tried to avoid any light.

    A little bit later, some room opened up next to Julia. They offered for me to move away from outside, on the edge of the circle. I naturally declined at this sudden and unexpected change. A few minutes later, upon considering that it'd be nice to be next to Julia (who had been becoming a closer and closer friend to me over the past few months), I decided to move over.

    Julia, recognizing I was hardly in remotely a good mood, put her arm over my shoulder as I sat down. As the event went along, Father Caster was responding to another person's question (actually, all the chaplain's were; I just remember Father Caster's response). It may have been because of my exhaustion, but I don't recall what the question was; I think I sort of came in, while Father was already giving his answer.

    From my vague memory, he was describing how some aspect of his answer related to when we care about someone else. Gah, this is going to irritate the shit out of me now, because I do think his wording was very important to how the scenario played out. Regardless, to paraphrase, he was describing that when we care about someone, we take care of them, we do actions that mean something to them.

    As he was in the middle of describing this, I thought I ought to knowingly nudge Julia. It was the kind of private exchange that I particularly enjoy and also a means of reciprocating the (what seemed to me) wholesale over-credit Julia had been giving my character as of late. Perhaps I'm just a slow creature (in that choices, decisions, and – at times – actions ought to be approached only when entirely certain), and what seemed to me like a very quick shift from being somewhat-alarmed-by-me/acquaintances to being close friends (in that loyalty, fondness, and feeling safe enough to lean upon the other were at play) was hard to justify in my head; not that I didn't appretiate and welcome these things: I simply had a hard time understanding their occurrence.

    In the time it took for me to debate whether to do this (rather, there was no debate whether I should; it was that, once again, any action that was not thought was exceedingly draining of me in such a depressed state), she nudged me. I glanced up to see her knowingly smirk at me. I, in turn, nudged her back, smiling with what energy my body was willing to concede.

     

    It would be false to say I did not have any friends at Williams. I did not have as many close friends as I would like (certainly less than I had upon leaving high school), though it would be false, I think, to say I had none as well. I think the most irritating thing of the entire experience, though, is the way that I felt most people didn't try to get close to me at all (some did, to be sure). I would like to firmly place the fault of which upon my own introversion and aloofness and, therefore, utterly out of a fault of their own.

  • There is a phenomenon that I feel I occasionally hint at or passingly refer to from time to time on here in my life, where I find an aspect of myself which I recognize now but would seem to have roots that trace back to some point that fades into the past, and I can no longer discern it distinctly. My liberalism (and the creeping feeling that this was retrieved and enforced by my surrounding culture throughout the entirety – just about – of my childhood) is one of them.

    And, it would seem, my Catholicism is one as well (which is particularly bizarre to me), because I really never identified strongly with my Catholicism until college. I don't believe I ever have mentioned this here (though I started to actually notice, and mention, it for the first time after discussing religion in college, first in Williams Secular Community, then with Arantza, Andrew, and Kahn, and then in InterFaith) but, in spite of attending Sunday School (on and off) and stepping foot into a church at least half of the year (Catholic, naturally), I didn't really have a particularly Catholic identity. Sure, I identified as Catholic, but my religious affiliation could really have been better described as a Christian identity than a Catholic one.

    America is a Christian nation – insofar that "Christian nation" means one based upon a premise of generic Protestant Christianity largely due to a bizarre necessity, by a decent amount of people, for evangelism (including tacit evangelism like politicians feeling it's necessary to say God bless at the end of every speaking engagement, regardless of zir own religious identifications or those whom ze is addressing) and a held belief that, so long as we all believe in JESUS, everything else will turn out fine (seriously, though, we need to all agree on that one fact – we do, right? Right?).

    The downfall of this approach (other than the glaring fact of expected cultural religious conformity) is that a lot of the cool denominational diversity that exists is passed over. However, from a personal perspective, it robbed me of the diversity within my denomination by making me think that Christianity meant X (and, since Catholicism is a form of Christianity, Catholicism must mean X). This provided me with thoughts like Catholicism believed in sola scriptura (Latin for "by scripture alone"). Or, as I've complained irately a multitude of times here, sola fide (Latin for "[salvation] by faith alone").

    This, in turn, had me stating that there was no real Christian denomination that I agreed with (how could I, when, in my ignorance, they all required faith for salvation?); I identified as Catholic, because that's what I grew up in and, therefore, was the place of my attendance (it surely had nothing to do with me agreeing with the theology).

    This, I think, is why discovery of my Catholicism was this very cool experience (and welcome relief) in college. However, it was also a somewhat bizarre experience, as I realized that a lot of my religion fit me so well. This was bizarre because I had not sought out Catholicism for its stances (indeed, I was so utterly clueless the whole of my childhood as to what Catholicism stood for that I actually rejected it (as I did all Christian denominations) as an imperfect expression of my own beliefs; I had no issue with being Christian: I just didn't agree with the conclusions most Christian religions extrapolated from that). And yet Catholicism seemed to verify so much of what I did agree with:

    We employ incense and cross ourselves, because worship should involve all the senses?
    Cool; I never thought of theology in that light before.

    Our liturgy, like aspects of our scripture and Jewish liturgy, ought to be symbolic and metaphorical?
    Cool; as an English major, I can completely get that.

    Our Mass should include beautiful music and incense and pretty stained-glass windows, because it ought to be art, because art is a means of connecting with the divine and Truth?
    What a beautiful idea.

    Reason and logic are tools given to Human-kind, and we ought to use them and, indeed, can (and ought to) use them to perceive and understand God?
    How very Enlightenment like.

    In lieu of the last point, there ought to be a respect for science as an explainer of our current universe? So much so that St. Augustine said that scripture should possibly be regarded as metaphorical if science contradicts it. On top of that, there's a very rich history of priests as scientists, as well as the church being a patron of the sciences; lest we forget, it was a priest that helped formulate the concept of the Big Bang.
    Wonderful.

    Of course, some of why I like those things (stuff like the use of reason and the importance of beauty/art) are because they tie us very close to a celebration to the human/earthly form (which, in turn, is why more on the Protestant side dislike Catholicism and just see it as an extension of paganism. All that incense, candles, and stained-glass windows? Just distractions taking your mind away from focusing on God during the service). Admittedly, my favorite priests were the ones who'd sit down with you around at a pub with a beer (or mix drinks) or join you to hang out somewhere or had experience at college campuses – imagine the somewhat portly priest so ridiculed during the middle ages, the priest perceived to be too much of this Earth, too down-to-Earth. Of course, theology was always so much more strongly about morality rather than how wicked the Earth itself is, so I've never been too afraid of celebrating and enjoying our Earthly humanity.

    An orthodox Catholic would probably find a middle ground, of sorts. Certainly our humanity isn't to be wholly repudiated. After all, Christ became man, and what was his first miracle? Making water into wine.

    But I think this highlights the final conclusion I came to: while Catholicism, I discovered, was the religion that fit me the closest (sans Judaism), I still wound up disagreeing with aspects of it. I graduated with a degree in Women's, Gender, and Sexuality Studies with a concentration in Queer Studies, after all. I would not be surprised to learn that the pope and I have some differing ideas. Despite the absolute unlikelihood of it, I want women ordained; I understand all reasons the why the church refuses on that point, but I can't – in good conscience – agree. And you know, really, my differences are small in number. But they all focus around things which are pretty much dogma by now. For all the changes the church can make (and they can be awesome; how the Mass is viewed after Vatican II is an awesome understanding and approach to our liturgy), they won't be any that address the bulk of my issues with Catholicism.

    However, unless I decide to convert to Judaism, this is what I have. The time I became an atheist taught me (ironically) that I am a religious person; my understanding of the world involves religion. Honestly, I think it's inseparable from who I am (there's a reason I was co-president of InterFaith for two years).

    However, this isn't a complete impediment. After all, I spent most of the entirety of my life in a religion that I disagreed with; I now agree with it so much more so, so it's even better than it was before, right?

    And, really, I don't think I'm really making how clear I like a lot of Catholicism right now. I forget if I mentioned it on here or had only thought to, but it's very difficult to describe the feeling I got when hearing an organ playing from out of a cathedral while at Princeton for the interfaith summit. Or the sounds of, really, any form of chanting of psalms and hymns (though, naturally, Gregorian has a special place in my heart). And, of course, the celebration of the Mass.

    But there's also another one of those phenomena I mentioned at the beginning of this post that makes my Catholicism so cozy. Again, for the life of me, I'm not sure where I get this feeling (in particular since I only really started understanding Catholicism in college), but there is a history of liberal Catholics throughout history, a group of liberal intellectuals who, in spite of their differences with Catholicism due to their liberalism, are fully Catholic (and are, in fact, liberal fully due to being Catholic). Yet, if you were to ask me for examples, I would come up short, which isn't to say that the idea is far-fetched. As I've already said, there is an emphasis and respect for intellectualism within Catholicism, particularly in the area of philosophy. And, while part of the reason you can consider the Catholic voting bloc Democratic for the most part (even to this day) is because most Catholic immigrants were Irish (and thus Catholic) while also being working class and, thus, labor (as well as Kennedy, obviously), I think it's telling, when Catholic no longer means Irish here in America, at least 50-some percent of Catholics are still voting Democrat. The only time I've actually really witnessed this was during my Senior year of college with Andrew. We were both pretty hard-leaning liberals, though of different stripes in the end, and yet entirely Catholic.

    Both of us could back up why we do what we do during Mass and in most of our theology. Andrew was more versed in the philosophy used by Catholicism to justify itself. I'm pretty concerned regarding liturgy (including that outside of Mass). And, while I was always happy to find myself in a fully-Catholic room from time to time (due to, for nine elevenths of my life, not fully identifying as Catholic), Andrew and I would often laugh about what we disagreed with and perceived as ridiculous about our church (at one point, he mentioned that he thought he had heard that the papacy had released an official apology for what had happened with Galileo; we marveled how, in comparison to other Christian denominations, ours could get so many things right and yet others still so utterly wrong. Then we laughed as we noted the church had no problem with evolution (unlike other denominations) but still hadn't apologized for when it denied that the sun revolved around the Earth).

    Side note: come to think of it, Kaz and I probably fall into that same place together, but I feel him and I haven't discussed politics enough for such a dynamic to unfold.

    And this is my longwinded way of eventually reaching the point of this post.

    I like my religion; I do. Actually, it's (admittedly) more torn than that, with high extremes of each end. While I often don't put anything in the collection plate each Sunday (in part because I don't really have any money, though more these days because I can't justify supporting financially an institution that I disagree so extremely on in some cases), I still vouch for the religion. But the point is, I'm trying to find my place in it. Based on the merits that Catholicism does have, I think we ought to root ourselves in that. In other words, Catholic culture. But what is that, exactly? Good question.

    And these thoughts which are usually lurking around my head came to the forefront, when I came across this article: http://patrickdeneen.blogspot.com/2009/05/abortion-and-catholic-culture.html.

    At first, I thought the article was going to make the argument that abortion and pro-life culture dominated Catholic culture at the moment (which, really, you can't create a culture around a singular idea), and it was because of this that people were leaving the church in droves (particularly young people). To quote two sentences from the article: "In my view, the singular focus upon abortion as THE issue over which conservative Catholics will brook no divergence and around which we are called to rally reveals, to my mind, not evidence of robust Catholic culture as much as its absence.[…]The ferocity over this issue – and this issue almost to the exclusion of nearly every other issue that might be part of a rich fabric of Catholic culture – suggests to me that Catholic culture, where it existed, has been largely routed."

    Instead, the article is about how we live in American society's culture and not in a purely Catholic one, and this is why some Catholics feel okay not centralizing their Catholicism around abortion (after all, abortion is not at the center of Catholic spirituality or theology).

    ***Note: I'm not interested in contemplating the morality of abortion; that's not the point of this post. Everything written here will be sans my own opinions on abortion, if I even have any***

    And this is somewhat central to my search for a Catholic culture or, really, namely a Catholicism I feel comfortable in.

    As I noted to my dad a few days ago, I'm extremely conservative when it comes to liturgy (possibly a small part of why I'm so interested in Judaism – our liturgy came out of that, so, if you want to go back to the source…). On the other hand, as I've noted (and demonstrated) a multitude of times here, I'm extremely liberal (no surprise anymore). So, when I find someplace I really like worshiping, I will probably not be liked by most of the people there.

    On the other hand, I agree entirely with the concepts of Vatican II regarding changes to the Mass. The difficulty comes with the part that calls for more local aspects brought in (which, ultimately, I do agree). A Mass is a Mass is a Mass. And while I recognize it as valid, it's not my ideal way of celebrating it (a valid opinion, I would argue, seeing that the very construction of the Mass was as an art to be enjoyed and admired). The part of the article that talks about how we are members of parishes (where we live) rather than shopping around for the right place and, thus, we have a culture of acceptance rather than transformation struck me as funny, largely because I've been going to different parishes to see the differing Masses because the one in my parish is far too liberal in its liturgy for my taste (and it's not even that liberal, by today's standards; it's actually rather common place – hence why I haven't settled for a particular parish yet).

    Yet there's the rub. I agree with Vatican II (I know, technically I'm not supposed to even have the choice of disagreeing if I'm a part of this church, but clearly I'm not a fully orthodox Catholic). I don't disagree with these Masses; I simply dislike them (stylistically). There's an important difference in that.

    So, in the grand question of what is Catholic culture, how do we decide in such diversity? Well, the first problem, I would guess, would be that you can't define culture around the Mass (though there are some interesting questions that arise from such an idea and I'm certain there have been Catholic philosophers (and I would probably agree) that there are ways to do so partially). Sure, liturgy can be important to culture, but, as I've said several times, Mass is not the only part of the liturgy. Did you know that it is practically literally impossible (I don't know if I've checked all the possibilities yet) to find a parish that celebrates Vespers within a 45 minute drive from my house?

    Perhaps it's more linked to the problem that I tend to find in my own spiritual life. If it isn't obvious yet, I prefer liturgical religions. There are some liberal reasons for this involving analysis of systems and how it affects the adherents, etc. but I think this post is getting long enough as it is. Yet if I wanted to find other means of discovering the wealth of diverse and beautiful liturgy we have? It literally took me a year to fully understand what the Divine Office was, let alone how to practice it. And, if it weren't for the particular people in my life during that time, I don't know I would have discovered it so quickly; yes, you can always ask your priest, but doesn't it make more sense to have that information readily available somewhere in easy-to-digest form rather than putting it through a bottleneck of one person?

    So where was I supposed to discover the wealth of my Catholic faith? Arguably, Sunday School (and, God knows, those poor teachers did their best) but you can't expect children from such a young age to truly value the information their receiving (at one point, one of the kids just played his Gameboy under the table while claiming he was meditating; I'm pretty sure my teacher just gave up).

    But after that? Sure, my brother and I were made altar servers (from which I learned a great deal), but there really isn't any other means other than lector or Eucharistic minister – all of which doesn't really teach you or envelop you in the liturgy (particularly outside of the Mass). It envelopes you scripture, sure, but – you know – we're heretics and scripture alone isn't enough for us.

    And this is why I got so excited about that article. I thought it was going to repudiate abortion (or same-sex marriage or contraceptives) as the pillar in which to encircle our culture around. Because you can't create a Catholic culture around an external cause. It has to involve more (and I do defend this point, even to the issue of poverty, an issue which has been a Catholic cause for ages and strikes directly to Catholicism).

    You want to know why people are leaving the church? The first is that you're zeroing in on divisive issues (homosexuals and Transsexuals and condoms in Africa) and, like good Catholics, the laity is using their God-given reason to see that the church's position just doesn't make that much sense (plus, it hurts people). At least, that's my pet theory.

    However, more so, you're not giving these people any alternative. A religion focused around fighting abortion is not going to keep people; people want a little bit more.

    Give them something which makes them feel Catholic. Because, right now, there isn't really much. I was stuck in rapt horror during the Mass before the March for Life as it was built up to with generic worship music (which, naturally, all sounded the same and could think of remotely creative lyrics even though they're supposedly written for a higher power). I might as well have been attending any evangelical group back at home because there was hardly any difference other than there were a bunch of priests and seminarians walking around. The only point that an actual difference started to emerge was during the introduction of the bishops present and a reference to the relic being used on the altar (and, of course, the Mass itself).

    Now, there's a long and personal history as to why I'm so bitter against such worship, but the point still remains: why am I bothering to stick with Catholicism when evangelicalism is offering pretty much the same thing? Evangelicalism is able to keep its adherents, because it operates on a system of fearing about your own salvation and the salvation of everyone you care about with a constant threat of going to Hell and an expectation to be continually perfect to the point that it becomes an informal (not always realized) game of bragging rights. This is not Catholicism (though, of course, with some of the laity (and apparently some of the clergy) seeing no difference between evangelical culture and Catholic culture, who knows anymore).

    Setting up places to more easily understand and learn about liturgy would be a start, as well as the ability to learn about Catholic philosophy would be good.

    Of course, they may end up tacitly (and then un-tacitly) agreeing with opposition to same-sex marriage, contraceptives, and the like. I need more liberal Catholics; where do I find them?

     

    ***Note: I think it's obvious, but better safe than sorry – when I refer to evangelicalism here, it's a rather large umbrella term and is referring to those groups I have personal experience with, rather than everyone. Further, it's more often in reference to evangelical culture than necessarily theology***

  • As per usual, as the holidays approach, have passed, or are in the process of going this month, I just want to wish you all an Insightful Bodhi, Merry Christmas, Solemn Ashura, and Happy Hanukkah. Stay safe, stay sane, stay well. As I always say (and still maintain), I'm glad to have met you all.

  •  

    Worked a booth at the county fair today. I know I've said it before, but I feel the need to say it again – public displays of religiosity completely unnerve me.

    I could tell you about the Catholic booth, in which one of those staffing the booth told me as I was leaving, "Stay righteous and stay Catholic; we wanna be sure to get you into Heaven." I could also tell you about how overly un-confrontational that I am, seeing as all I could muster was smiling and walking away instead of bothering to point how overly offensive and pretentious such a statement is (though no Christian would dare admit such a statement could be that) or quote our shared catechism (337 LG 16; cf. DS 3866-3872: "Those also can attain to salvation who through no fault of their own do not know the Gospel of Christ or His Church, yet sincerely seek God and moved by grace strive by their deeds to do His will as it is known to them through the dictates of conscience. Nor does Divine Providence deny the helps necessary for salvation to those who, without blame on their part, have not yet arrived at an explicit knowledge of God and with His grace strive to live a good life.").

    Or I could tell you how, as I stopped by the Gideons booth (you know, those guys who feel the need to shove Jesus down your throat even on your vacation so they fill every hotel with a bible), I was led on (after listing a desire for a portable New Testament, being a Catholic, and following the commandments as laid out by the Bible) to say that I had accepted Christ as my personal lord and savior before the guy would give me one of the pocket New Testaments. I guess they believe you have to convert before being able to grace your eyes upon the sacred words of Christ and Paul? Great proselytizing plan, guys; but I despise proselytizing in nearly all forms so keep up having everyone of sane minds thinking you're obnoxious.

     

    Instead, however, I'm going to watch my feel-good movie tonight, perhaps with a bowl of ice cream, while our dog sleeps next to me. If you guys haven't seen it yet, I highly suggest to watch it. It's called Show Me Love or Fucking Åmål in the original Swedish (it's a foreign film; Åmål is a small Swedish town). Links to watch the movie online are here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=spGW5p9p1c4.

  • I could probably be very content converting to Judaism, I realized today. Not that I plan to or am even likely to do so. But it was a kinda odd realization. I'm rarely ever so fully and entirely sure of anything in life.