Have you ever noticed how fragile either of these things are? Did you used do make little domino Rube-Goldbergs or card castles? They're difficult to make, and it takes time, dedication, and planning to do well. You take a lot of pride in them when they're done, especially if what you've made is impressively large or intricate. Then, just as you go to shift something, or the family pet whizzes by, or some smart alec thinks it'll be funny to take just one integral piece.... the whole thing comes crashing down before your eyes, and there's nothing you can do to stop it. Occasionally you'll get lucky, and the removal of that piece doesn't destroy the project, but nine times out of ten, it does. If you made one of these contraptions, do you remember how much it stinks to have to clean up all the dominoes or cards? Oftentimes you don't want to, and you almost never want to start rebuilding.
Last night in Confession, the priest made the observation that sin is like dominoes or a house of cards; often, when one piece falls, the whole contraption comes apart. If not, the whole is made more susceptible to collapse because it has been weakened. I noticed this earlier in the year, when a situation came up with a couple of friends, and I was literally consumed by anger. I would try to pray or calm myself down, but part of me refused to let go of how angry I was, and from there all my dominoes fell in a neat little line. I have to admit, though, it felt much more like a game of fifty-two pickup.
I made mention of that when I confessed, how it seemed like anger was the sin that facilitated all the others, and once I decided to stop fighting it, every other sin became so much easier to commit. It has been the same this past week; anger over the circumstances surrounding the death of a friend of my parents has paved the way for a longer list of sins than I care to admit. It seemed funny to me that last night the priest should make the same observation about sin, but then, he hears from many more sinners than I do, so perhaps this is something other people have trouble with as well. During my last two Confessions, the priest (same one) told me to think and pray about the one area of my life that could be improved upon, and to ask God for the grace to improve it. I think that self-control, generally, and controlling my anger, specifically, are that area.
The thing about anger (at least, with me) is that it touches every other area of my life. Angry? Probably going to forego prayer to brood. Annoyed? Probably going to stay up late thinking about it. Frustrated? Probably going to shut other people out, and definitely going to be tempted to sin more. Anger is also best buddies with pride and defiance, which creates the perfect storm of vice. I have tried in vain this week to write another post, but each time I did, a stunted, angry, selfish garble of words came out. I deleted each prospective post, and I'm very happy I did. There was nothing remotely redeeming about them, and now I know why. I was too angry to see straight or to even bother doing something morally neutral, let alone charitable or right.
BUT: This has been another glorious reminder of why I need and love the Sacrament of Confession. My soul has been pretty dingy lately, and was in need of a good cleaning, so I'm glad that I took a good enough look at myself to want to go, and that God has been willing as ever to forgive His crazy little sheep. I know that the coming weeks will be tough, since the situation that first aroused my ire will not abate until tomorrow at the very earliest, though likely not until late August. However, I know that there will be opportunities between now and then to confess, and that I am now armed with a little more knowledge of self and sin with which to survive.
Wow, I feel so much better now. :D
Sunday, July 24, 2011
Sunday, July 17, 2011
American Jurisprudence and Judgement
As I trust most people not living under a rock know, Casey Anthony was released from prison today. I have no opinion on her innocence or guilt, but I know that many people do. The day the verdict came in, the restaurant I work in was all abuzz with news about the jury, the lawyers, the evidence, etc. Several people even referred to the verdict as Casey Anthony "pulling an O.J." I did not follow the trial, since most of the country was morbidly fascinated by it, and it left a sour taste in my mouth. I think the comment I heard the most with regard to Casey Anthony was "she's guilty". This was in clear contrast to the jury's verdict of "not guilty", and I assume, because of it as well.
I have since heard all I need to hear about the case, and in my honest opinion, the jury reached the correct verdict. Being an amateur law enthusiast since I was twelve and having heard the relevant evidence, I'm fairly certain the jury could not have convicted Ms. Anthony, even if they'd wanted to. Though it sounds as if the evidence pointed to her, there was nothing that pointed to her exclusively. No, not even the heart sticker. It is sickening and very sad that Caylee Anthony's killer (whoever it was) escaped justice, but I think this case was actually a triumph for the American legal system.
This will obviously sound preposterous to any person who believes Casey is the murderer, and even to some people who are outraged that anyone would kill a little girl, but hear me out. The American legal system was set up in deliberate contrast to those of Europe at the time. The accused is always presumed innocent, and the burden of proof for a crime rests squarely on the shoulders of the prosecution. This burden of proof is also very high, as the defendant must be proven guilty beyond a reasonable doubt. That means that if any jury can come up with a reasonable doubt that the defendant is guilty, then they cannot convict. This is a good thing, and it has kept many wrongfully accused people from going to prison. It has, unfortunately, also allowed guilty people to go free, and innocent people to be incarcerated.
Looking at much of the world today, Casey Anthony's case is a beacon of justice where there is often no semblance of the thing. Think of the middle east, where women are killed for being raped because they have "dishonored" their families. Think of China, where the government can simply take a private citizen and torture or kill him for writing an unfavorable article in a newspaper or emailing foreigners about what life in that country is really like. Think even of Europe, where many Christians have lost their jobs, not been allowed to adopt, and even brought in front of hate crimes tribunals because they have not kept quiet about what they believe. Casey Anthony received a fair trial by a jury of her peers, and even though the Court of Public Opinion had already convicted her, the court in Florida did not do so because they knew they could not, no matter what they personally believed.
Much about the brouhaha around this case has frustrated me, because I have seen good people deny the United States' principles of justice in favor of wishing that the jury had just found Casey Anthony guilty because they wanted them to. This does not make these individuals less good as humans, but it is sad to see that we as a people still would rather mete out justice as we please, rather than give someone the fair trial they deserve. As Catholics, we should be especially careful about this, because just as we often cannot know what others have done, we can never know what is in their souls, and we should never presume to condemn the innocent until they are proven guilty. Really, we should never presume to condemn anyone, period, but even legally, we should hold off with expressing our opinions until all the facts are in evidence.
But, one might protest, what if all the facts are not in evidence? What if they never are? Well, then we must do the right thing, and risk allowing a guilty person to go free rather than causing him to suffer at the behest of the majority. As 18th century British judge William Blackstone famously said, "Better that ten guilty persons escape than that one innocent suffer". And guess what? He's right. God can forgive the sins of the guilty, and we have no right to punish the innocent. We have enshrined that in our legal system with the requirement to prove guilt "beyond a reasonable doubt". We fall into a trap sometimes, and think that it is incumbent upon us to mete out justice, and to some degree this works. However, we would do well to remember that we are not God, and that even if a person escapes temporal justice, another justice awaits them later on.
Additionally, allowing justice by mob rule is never a good idea. When societies allow this "justice" to take place, the majority often pays no heed to whether or not the accused is actually guilty, and bases its action on what it perceives is proof of guilt. These are the cases when a group of people, no matter how well meaning, take "justice" too far, and someone often ends up dead. This is not America, and because the founders of our legal system knew that allowing mob rule would be dangerous, they opted instead to give each man the benefit of the doubt. Even with all the abuses and inadequacies of the current legal system, it is better than majority rule. Therefore, I am comfortable with the Casey Anthony verdict as it stands, and I will continue to hope that whoever is responsible for Caylee Anthony's death will be brought to justice someday. And by justice, I mean real, American justice.
I have since heard all I need to hear about the case, and in my honest opinion, the jury reached the correct verdict. Being an amateur law enthusiast since I was twelve and having heard the relevant evidence, I'm fairly certain the jury could not have convicted Ms. Anthony, even if they'd wanted to. Though it sounds as if the evidence pointed to her, there was nothing that pointed to her exclusively. No, not even the heart sticker. It is sickening and very sad that Caylee Anthony's killer (whoever it was) escaped justice, but I think this case was actually a triumph for the American legal system.
This will obviously sound preposterous to any person who believes Casey is the murderer, and even to some people who are outraged that anyone would kill a little girl, but hear me out. The American legal system was set up in deliberate contrast to those of Europe at the time. The accused is always presumed innocent, and the burden of proof for a crime rests squarely on the shoulders of the prosecution. This burden of proof is also very high, as the defendant must be proven guilty beyond a reasonable doubt. That means that if any jury can come up with a reasonable doubt that the defendant is guilty, then they cannot convict. This is a good thing, and it has kept many wrongfully accused people from going to prison. It has, unfortunately, also allowed guilty people to go free, and innocent people to be incarcerated.
Looking at much of the world today, Casey Anthony's case is a beacon of justice where there is often no semblance of the thing. Think of the middle east, where women are killed for being raped because they have "dishonored" their families. Think of China, where the government can simply take a private citizen and torture or kill him for writing an unfavorable article in a newspaper or emailing foreigners about what life in that country is really like. Think even of Europe, where many Christians have lost their jobs, not been allowed to adopt, and even brought in front of hate crimes tribunals because they have not kept quiet about what they believe. Casey Anthony received a fair trial by a jury of her peers, and even though the Court of Public Opinion had already convicted her, the court in Florida did not do so because they knew they could not, no matter what they personally believed.
Much about the brouhaha around this case has frustrated me, because I have seen good people deny the United States' principles of justice in favor of wishing that the jury had just found Casey Anthony guilty because they wanted them to. This does not make these individuals less good as humans, but it is sad to see that we as a people still would rather mete out justice as we please, rather than give someone the fair trial they deserve. As Catholics, we should be especially careful about this, because just as we often cannot know what others have done, we can never know what is in their souls, and we should never presume to condemn the innocent until they are proven guilty. Really, we should never presume to condemn anyone, period, but even legally, we should hold off with expressing our opinions until all the facts are in evidence.
But, one might protest, what if all the facts are not in evidence? What if they never are? Well, then we must do the right thing, and risk allowing a guilty person to go free rather than causing him to suffer at the behest of the majority. As 18th century British judge William Blackstone famously said, "Better that ten guilty persons escape than that one innocent suffer". And guess what? He's right. God can forgive the sins of the guilty, and we have no right to punish the innocent. We have enshrined that in our legal system with the requirement to prove guilt "beyond a reasonable doubt". We fall into a trap sometimes, and think that it is incumbent upon us to mete out justice, and to some degree this works. However, we would do well to remember that we are not God, and that even if a person escapes temporal justice, another justice awaits them later on.
Additionally, allowing justice by mob rule is never a good idea. When societies allow this "justice" to take place, the majority often pays no heed to whether or not the accused is actually guilty, and bases its action on what it perceives is proof of guilt. These are the cases when a group of people, no matter how well meaning, take "justice" too far, and someone often ends up dead. This is not America, and because the founders of our legal system knew that allowing mob rule would be dangerous, they opted instead to give each man the benefit of the doubt. Even with all the abuses and inadequacies of the current legal system, it is better than majority rule. Therefore, I am comfortable with the Casey Anthony verdict as it stands, and I will continue to hope that whoever is responsible for Caylee Anthony's death will be brought to justice someday. And by justice, I mean real, American justice.
Saturday, July 16, 2011
On Vocations: A Call to Life and Love
If, like me, you are enveloped much of the time in a little Catholic bubble, then congratulations! You're probably loving your life, and chances are you know what a vocation is. If not, that's okay, you probably live in a scary place I like to call "reality", so I can bring some of my bubble to you. Vocation comes from the Latin word vocare, which means "to call", and it refers literally to God's call to a person to their state in life. Most Catholic people hear the word vocation and think "Oh, right, those things that special holy people get that means they're becoming a priest or a nun!" This is not, however, the case. Everybody has a vocation, not just the folks in habits or clerics.
A lot of people also think that a vocation is like a job, that God calls people to become doctors and plumbers and the like. This may occasionally be true, but that's not what vocation refers to; each person's vocation is either to the religious life, marriage, or chaste singlehood. Sounds totally exciting, right? Okay, so maybe it doesn't sound so thrilling, but it's better when you're living it than reading it. So how does one discover one of these "vocations"? Through a process called "discernment", and with the aid of a "spiritual director" (feel free to imagine the use of obnoxious finger quotes). But again, in the absence of a Catholic bubble, this may also be a foreign concept. Basically, you get a priest, nun, or (spiritually) well-formed lay person to guide you through a process of prayer to determine God's will in your life. Often this takes several months and a bit of frustration to work out.
How do I know all this? I'm a dork. Oh, and I've also already freaked out about my vocation. Yes indeed, I have already gone through periods when I was so certain of my vocation that I started to freak out. This is not really a new thing for me, since anyone who knows me knows that freaking out about something that's not really happening soon but would someday be important is almost a pastime. This was probably not as funny for my spiritual director as it is for me to look back on, since he had to deal with all the "But-, but-, but-, but FATHER! I have no control over my life anymore!!! What am I going to do!!! I was going to be president, and now I don't know what I'm going to do!!!!" But hey, life's no fun without a little unbridled panic now and then, is it?
Most of this is based on my being a complete control freak. I'm the type-A person my university attracts, and like every other political science student there, I waltzed into my freshman year thinking I'd be a representative at 25, a senator at 30, and president sometime between 35 and 50. Which is a nifty little plan if you're in charge of planning your own life, and 2,000 other people don't have the exact same life plan as you do. However, I recognize that in handing the planning of my life over to God, I leave my career and vocation entirely up to him. And that's alright with me. Not the passive-aggressive "well-I-guess-if-Someone-who-shall-remain-nameless-has-decided-then-I-have-to-go-with-it" alright, but really, truly alright. It forces me to rely on God more if I'm not doing anything more than the temporary basic framework.
The great thing about vocations, though, is that even though each one leads down a different life path, it's always ultimately about love. I can trust that whether God makes me a mother, a sister, or a single woman on a mission, it will always be about loving Him and other people. This is essentially the same with every vocation, with really the only difference being how the love is expressed. The religious are called to give their whole love to God, and through that love, minister to God's people. They deliberately forego some of the pleasures of this life to be able to focus on living out God's love. The married are called to mirror the love of the Trinity, and to make it so real that nine months later they give it a name (obviously this happens a varying amount of times, depending on the couple). God is still at the center of the family life, but they express His love differently by virtue of the call to uniquely re-create it. Single people are called to be spiritual mothers and fathers (as are the religious) to others, and to express God's love through what they do with their lives. They are called to give their lives to God, but to remain in the world in a way that the religious are not, and the married often cannot be.
Maybe calling it a vocation is not enough. Vocation does not explicitly speak of the joy of the lifestyle. Vocation does not say "I am bringing God to a congregation, or to the poor". It doesn't say "I am dedicating and sanctifying all my work, so that God may use it for His own ends". It doesn't express "We have chosen to give fully of ourselves to God and each other, and all these little strangers in our house". After all, vocation just means a call, and doesn't explicitly speak of the happiness, the heartache, the laughter, the sorrow, or any of the myriad emotions and experiences that come with a human life. But then, maybe that's what God wants. Maybe part of each vocation is a life so well-lived and full of love that the only motivation needed to answer is... a call.
A lot of people also think that a vocation is like a job, that God calls people to become doctors and plumbers and the like. This may occasionally be true, but that's not what vocation refers to; each person's vocation is either to the religious life, marriage, or chaste singlehood. Sounds totally exciting, right? Okay, so maybe it doesn't sound so thrilling, but it's better when you're living it than reading it. So how does one discover one of these "vocations"? Through a process called "discernment", and with the aid of a "spiritual director" (feel free to imagine the use of obnoxious finger quotes). But again, in the absence of a Catholic bubble, this may also be a foreign concept. Basically, you get a priest, nun, or (spiritually) well-formed lay person to guide you through a process of prayer to determine God's will in your life. Often this takes several months and a bit of frustration to work out.
How do I know all this? I'm a dork. Oh, and I've also already freaked out about my vocation. Yes indeed, I have already gone through periods when I was so certain of my vocation that I started to freak out. This is not really a new thing for me, since anyone who knows me knows that freaking out about something that's not really happening soon but would someday be important is almost a pastime. This was probably not as funny for my spiritual director as it is for me to look back on, since he had to deal with all the "But-, but-, but-, but FATHER! I have no control over my life anymore!!! What am I going to do!!! I was going to be president, and now I don't know what I'm going to do!!!!" But hey, life's no fun without a little unbridled panic now and then, is it?
Most of this is based on my being a complete control freak. I'm the type-A person my university attracts, and like every other political science student there, I waltzed into my freshman year thinking I'd be a representative at 25, a senator at 30, and president sometime between 35 and 50. Which is a nifty little plan if you're in charge of planning your own life, and 2,000 other people don't have the exact same life plan as you do. However, I recognize that in handing the planning of my life over to God, I leave my career and vocation entirely up to him. And that's alright with me. Not the passive-aggressive "well-I-guess-if-Someone-who-shall-remain-nameless-has-decided-then-I-have-to-go-with-it" alright, but really, truly alright. It forces me to rely on God more if I'm not doing anything more than the temporary basic framework.
The great thing about vocations, though, is that even though each one leads down a different life path, it's always ultimately about love. I can trust that whether God makes me a mother, a sister, or a single woman on a mission, it will always be about loving Him and other people. This is essentially the same with every vocation, with really the only difference being how the love is expressed. The religious are called to give their whole love to God, and through that love, minister to God's people. They deliberately forego some of the pleasures of this life to be able to focus on living out God's love. The married are called to mirror the love of the Trinity, and to make it so real that nine months later they give it a name (obviously this happens a varying amount of times, depending on the couple). God is still at the center of the family life, but they express His love differently by virtue of the call to uniquely re-create it. Single people are called to be spiritual mothers and fathers (as are the religious) to others, and to express God's love through what they do with their lives. They are called to give their lives to God, but to remain in the world in a way that the religious are not, and the married often cannot be.
Maybe calling it a vocation is not enough. Vocation does not explicitly speak of the joy of the lifestyle. Vocation does not say "I am bringing God to a congregation, or to the poor". It doesn't say "I am dedicating and sanctifying all my work, so that God may use it for His own ends". It doesn't express "We have chosen to give fully of ourselves to God and each other, and all these little strangers in our house". After all, vocation just means a call, and doesn't explicitly speak of the happiness, the heartache, the laughter, the sorrow, or any of the myriad emotions and experiences that come with a human life. But then, maybe that's what God wants. Maybe part of each vocation is a life so well-lived and full of love that the only motivation needed to answer is... a call.
Sunday, July 10, 2011
Pride is Ugly, Too
For two months or so now, I've been attending Mass at home with my father. We go to the chapel of a nearby university where my father sings in the choir. The chapel has a wonderfully welcoming atmosphere, and people are always friendly there, whether they saw you last week, or they've never seen you before in their lives. As a college student I appreciate that, because college means a lot of unknowns and new beginnings, which are hard enough under the best circumstances. And let's face it, it wouldn't hurt for more people to behave more kindly.
However, this is not typically an experience I enjoy. I do my best to appreciate the Eucharist, but most everything else is hit or miss. The sermons, the music, the congregation, and sometimes even the vestments or where Mass is said (the chapel when it's cool, the adjoining lecture hall when it's hot) all carry the possibility of arousing my ire. I have a growing mental catalogue of faults to which I add each week, which includes but is not limited to: fluff homilies, contemporary, anti-Catechism, anti-people-with-any-appreciation-of-good-music hymns, people talking whenever the priests aren't, people in shorts, mini-skirts, flip-flops, and t-shirts, and a general lack of knowledge or reverence for what exactly is taking place.
I find that Mass in the Archdiocese of Washington has spoiled me. There is almost always beautiful music, reverent worshipers, orthodox priests, appropriate dress, and an acute understanding of what we're doing and why we're here to do it. I have attended Masses celebrated by two cardinals, at least two monsignors, and several outstanding priests, at some of the loveliest churches I have ever been in. Like I say, Washington has spoiled me. There are a preponderance of things there that I am sure I will never find in my home diocese, and with each week home, I find that more and more troubling.
However, I find that not only are Masses here bad for my senses, I also allow them to be bad for my soul. In Simcha Fisher's first blog post at the National Catholic Register, she addressed how many people (herself included) suffer through the occasional ugly Mass. Maybe the building is ugly, or the music is awful, but whatever it is, as commenter and fellow NCR blogger Stephen D. Greydanus notes, one is tempted to think "I am being crucified with Christ". Then she stops to think (as I have never once done) "Christ is here, and if He can stand it, so can I". Jesus Christ is present at every Mass, and if He can take whatever ugliness is there (which is a lot, what with all that "being perfect" people claim He does), then we can do the same.
I've mentioned before that I struggle with pride. This is nothing new to me, or to anyone who knows me, but Ms. Fisher's revelation certainly was. I find that too often I walk around like the Pharisee in Luke 18:9-14, saying "Lord, I thank you that I am not like these other dopes, who go around sinning all the time, and have no sense of what is proper in Catholicism; I confess weekly, and wouldn't be caught dead getting drunk and hooking up", and these ugly Masses certainly help to bring out the worst in me. And that is definitely not something I'm proud of. I catch myself doing it every week, and am quick to go "Wow, Lord, that sure was nasty and condescending... um... yeah, I'm really sorry about that, so can we just start over?" I then promptly return to doing exactly what I was doing before I caught myself.... again. This is a cycle that repeats a couple of times every Sunday, and frankly, I'm surprised that I find the time to pay attention in there.
But, I suspect that Simcha is right when she says that a little bit of ugliness is good for us. It's not good while it's happening, but it is good when we return to our regularly scheduled regimen of beauty. When I experience something beautiful and transcendent, my thoughts are immediately lifted to God to thank Him for the wondrous gift of beauty. A piece of great music, a breathtaking sight, or words that speak straight to my heart are all personal means of experiencing God in my life, and at the very least I'm not dumb enough not to appreciate that. I imagine, also, that when I go back to Washington to be liturgically re-spoiled, I will appreciate the ugliness I'm experiencing now because it allows me to appreciate the beauty that much more.
Finally, and this has nothing to do with beauty or ugliness, part of the beauty which I am able to appreciate now is the existence of the internet, which has led me to the National Catholic Register, and specifically to Simcha Fisher's blog (which is hilarious, witty, and Catholic in the best way). I hereby recommend that everyone have a look at the Register, and/or Simcha's blog, just because I like them so darn much.
However, this is not typically an experience I enjoy. I do my best to appreciate the Eucharist, but most everything else is hit or miss. The sermons, the music, the congregation, and sometimes even the vestments or where Mass is said (the chapel when it's cool, the adjoining lecture hall when it's hot) all carry the possibility of arousing my ire. I have a growing mental catalogue of faults to which I add each week, which includes but is not limited to: fluff homilies, contemporary, anti-Catechism, anti-people-with-any-appreciation-of-good-music hymns, people talking whenever the priests aren't, people in shorts, mini-skirts, flip-flops, and t-shirts, and a general lack of knowledge or reverence for what exactly is taking place.
I find that Mass in the Archdiocese of Washington has spoiled me. There is almost always beautiful music, reverent worshipers, orthodox priests, appropriate dress, and an acute understanding of what we're doing and why we're here to do it. I have attended Masses celebrated by two cardinals, at least two monsignors, and several outstanding priests, at some of the loveliest churches I have ever been in. Like I say, Washington has spoiled me. There are a preponderance of things there that I am sure I will never find in my home diocese, and with each week home, I find that more and more troubling.
However, I find that not only are Masses here bad for my senses, I also allow them to be bad for my soul. In Simcha Fisher's first blog post at the National Catholic Register, she addressed how many people (herself included) suffer through the occasional ugly Mass. Maybe the building is ugly, or the music is awful, but whatever it is, as commenter and fellow NCR blogger Stephen D. Greydanus notes, one is tempted to think "I am being crucified with Christ". Then she stops to think (as I have never once done) "Christ is here, and if He can stand it, so can I". Jesus Christ is present at every Mass, and if He can take whatever ugliness is there (which is a lot, what with all that "being perfect" people claim He does), then we can do the same.
I've mentioned before that I struggle with pride. This is nothing new to me, or to anyone who knows me, but Ms. Fisher's revelation certainly was. I find that too often I walk around like the Pharisee in Luke 18:9-14, saying "Lord, I thank you that I am not like these other dopes, who go around sinning all the time, and have no sense of what is proper in Catholicism; I confess weekly, and wouldn't be caught dead getting drunk and hooking up", and these ugly Masses certainly help to bring out the worst in me. And that is definitely not something I'm proud of. I catch myself doing it every week, and am quick to go "Wow, Lord, that sure was nasty and condescending... um... yeah, I'm really sorry about that, so can we just start over?" I then promptly return to doing exactly what I was doing before I caught myself.... again. This is a cycle that repeats a couple of times every Sunday, and frankly, I'm surprised that I find the time to pay attention in there.
But, I suspect that Simcha is right when she says that a little bit of ugliness is good for us. It's not good while it's happening, but it is good when we return to our regularly scheduled regimen of beauty. When I experience something beautiful and transcendent, my thoughts are immediately lifted to God to thank Him for the wondrous gift of beauty. A piece of great music, a breathtaking sight, or words that speak straight to my heart are all personal means of experiencing God in my life, and at the very least I'm not dumb enough not to appreciate that. I imagine, also, that when I go back to Washington to be liturgically re-spoiled, I will appreciate the ugliness I'm experiencing now because it allows me to appreciate the beauty that much more.
Finally, and this has nothing to do with beauty or ugliness, part of the beauty which I am able to appreciate now is the existence of the internet, which has led me to the National Catholic Register, and specifically to Simcha Fisher's blog (which is hilarious, witty, and Catholic in the best way). I hereby recommend that everyone have a look at the Register, and/or Simcha's blog, just because I like them so darn much.
Friday, July 8, 2011
Do's and Don'ts of (Catholic) Restaurant Patronage
I've been working in a local restaurant for the past month or so, and it's been a good experience so far. It's taught me patience and persevering kindness, and re-taught me the value of a dollar, though it's also tested my propensity to gossip and generally be unkind about people when they are unkind or uncooperative. It is usually not so much a test when these things are happening as after they happen, since it is the job of every employee in a restaurant to be as kind and cooperative with the patrons as possible. However, I will admit that the challenge oftentimes comes more from the attitude and actions of the patrons than from my own temperament. Sometimes, as my uncle who also works in food service says, "people suck". I know, though, that many people don't get taught what to do in a restaurant, as well as what not to do, so I'm doing do's and don'ts that your restaurant staff won't tell you, but will definitely appreciate, but with a Catholic twist.
Do: Try to be friendly when you come in. We work very hard to make the restaurant atmosphere a pleasant and welcoming one, not just because then you'll spend more money, but mostly because we do actually want you to enjoy being there. Smile at the hosts and servers, and even feel free to make a corny joke (we'll always give an obligatory chuckle). You're the unknown in this situation, so if you're friendly and at ease with us, our friendliness goes from automated to genuine pretty fast.
Don't: Try to be fake friendly or sour when you come in. We know what automated friendliness looks like (we're likely a lot better at it than you), and it's sort of awkward when patrons do it. We're always smiling and trying to make your experience a good one, and if you come in with a dour attitude, it makes everyone's life harder. Nobody likes a sour puss, and you certainly wouldn't appreciate it if that's how we acted.
Catholic Twist: When you're making an effort to be genuinely friendly, you're showing a little bit of Christ's love to people who are working just as hard as you do with a lot of the same life pressures. While we basically operate under the "love your neighbor as yourself" principle all the time, it is much easier to do when our neighbor is trying to love us as well. Also, being dour tempts us to gossip and be uncharitable toward you in other ways, and it effects your experience negatively as well. "But rather, love your enemies and do good to them... then your reward will be great and you will be children of the Most High, for he himself is kind to the ungrateful and the wicked. Be merciful, just as (also) your Father is merciful." (Lk 6:35-36)
Do: Cooperate with your server. Since you just walked in, you may or may not have taken a cursory glance at your surroundings, but please do. Try to see if your section (all of which your server is taking care of) is full, noisy, or occupied by troublesome patrons. Either way, please be kind to and cooperative with your server. Yes, it is his/her job to take your order/bring you sustenance/smile and check up on you/bring your check, but he or she will likely be trying their darndest to give you the best possible service, and that deserves some cooperation. Remember, the word is server, not servant.
Don't: Tell the host/server that you're in a rush, and need to be out by x-o-clock. If you're coming to eat at a sit down restaurant, the staff assumes that you have budgeted enough time to eat there. We also assume that you know about this crazy phenomenon that occasionally strikes restaurants, called getting busy. Please, please do not come in and order anyone to serve you immediately because it's 6:15, and you absolutely must be out of here by 7:30. Even if the restaurant isn't packed, time still needs to be allowed for the cooking and preparation of your food. Rushing us makes things come out poorly and creates unnecessary stress. And if the restaurant is busy, rushing your server will cause him or her to neglect the other patrons, which will aggravate them.
Catholic Twist: The root of this do and don't is humility. To enter any business and demand immediate service because you have something you need to do is the height of arrogance. It tells the staff that servicing you is more important than running their business effectively, and the other clientele that your business is more important than theirs. If you had truly thought about your time constraints and whether or not you had the time for dinner at a sit-down restaurant, you would likely have been humble enough to choose to go to McDonald's instead of making a hassle elsewhere. "For pride is the reservoir of sin, a source which runs over with vice..." (Sir 10:13)
Do: Ask your server for a few recommendations. Everyone in a restaurant except the busboy and the dish washer are required to know the menu items and their ingredients. If you don't know what you want to eat, you can ask any one of us what's good, and we'll tell you, though to be fair, we'll usually tell you our favorites unless you ask about a specific category of food. But if you want a couple of choices straight from the source, there is no better asset than your server (and remember, this is part of his or her job).
Don't: Order something you've never had, and send it back if you don't like it. Never had a particular cut of steak or ethnic-inspired dish before? Go ahead, try it. Expand your palate by trying something new. But for the love of all that is good, do not send the meal back to the kitchen if you discover you don't like it. This is unfair and wasteful, and you're not going to get another meal without having to pay for it. It doesn't matter if you only had three bites, because the restaurant had to pay for the food, the resources and people to cook it, and for the time the server spent waiting on you. If you're not sure you'll like it, order the burger or the pasta.
Catholic Twist: This set is more about consideration of the people serving you. Not just your server, but the kitchen staff, and even the managers. Yes, the server has to spend more time on you listening to your complaints and getting you a meal you will actually eat, but the cooks have to make more food, the dish washer has to wash more, and the managers (who have a bottom line to watch) won't appreciate having to throw away perfectly good food. This causes unnecessary frustration for everyone involved, and neither we nor you will be tempted to be charitable with or about each other in this situation. "A word is the source of every deed; a thought, of every act. The root of all conduct is the mind..." (Sir 37:16-17)
Do: Be considerate of your server. Taking care of you is your server's job, but only part of it. The rest includes, but is not limited to, bussing and setting tables, and serving at least three or four other tables, cleaning the area they're working in, and probably some side work they split with the rest of the staff. They are working on a schedule, and there is only so much time they have in which to do all the work they've been assigned for the day. If you are pleasant and minimally obtrusive, it makes the server's job that much easier.
Don't: Demand an inordinate amount of your server's time or attention. Like I said, your server has a job to do of which taking care of you is only a part. This is not to say that you should not interact with your server at all, but if you don't need to, you probably shouldn't. Don't worry, nobody will think you're some sort of introverted freak, they'll probably just assume you're too busy enjoying your meal or your company to bother the server.
Catholic Twist: Some people seem to forget that even though they're enjoying leisure time at a restaurant, the staff is not. It's not that we dislike being there, but it is our job. And since we're at work, we are required to be industrious. Like most people, even if we're at work, we might not exactly want to be industrious, but we have to be. Taking up a lot of our time allows us to neglect our other work and indulge in sloth, which will have no repercussions for you, but if it happens enough times, it could certainly spell trouble for us. St. Paul advises that those who do not work should also not eat, do you really want that for your server?
Do: Report actual problems or legitimately atrocious service to the manager. He or she should know if a table or chair is broken, or if there is some equally serious problem in the restaurant that needs to be taken care of. Also, if your server or host is rude, surly, slow, inattentive, and ignoring you, that is something the manager could best address with that individual to make it stop. Managers, staff, and patrons will thank you for being astute and conscientious enough to speak up about legitimate issues that need fixing. That being said:
Don't: Approach the manager over a forgotten straw or underdone steak. Neither of these is a serious issue at all, and hence, neither is worth making a stink over to somebody who will simply apologize and refer you to your server (the appropriate channel through which to address the "problem"). Also, managers have numbers to crunch and an entire business to run, and while they do want you to be satisfied, they personally are not responsible for ensuring your steak is well done or there's enough cherry syrup in your drink. They're not always so keen on being brought away from their work by the staff, and we only bother them when we absolutely have to.
Catholic Twist: This one is about temperance. It is fitting to let someone know about an issue that actually will affect their business, and you would be remiss if you knew and didn't inform someone. But it is intemperate to blow something small out of proportion (usually out of misplaced anger) and then insist on talking to a manager about it. St. Paul admonishes people in both 2 Timothy and Titus about being temperate, and let's face it, anger is never a good thing.
And finally,
Do: Tip whoever served you- waiter, host, or bartender. Lots of people think that tipping is a nicety that you observe because you're being served, but that if service isn't stellar, you don't need to tip. This is untrue. Most restaurant staff do not make the minimum wage, because tips are part of our wages. That's right, it's not a formality, it's how we get paid. We do our best to serve you in whichever way we do, and just because you don't see all the work that goes into your experience, doesn't mean we're not doing it. And believe me, we have mental tip calculators, so we know when we're being cheated. The typical rate is 18% of your bill. 20% if the service was stellar, but absolutely no less than 15%. Lots of restaurant staff are working two jobs to support themselves, and that's if they're lucky. If not, they're working at the restaurant and somewhere else to make ends meet for a family, and tips are part of how they do that.
Don't: Assume someone else will do it. Not everybody has worked in restaurants, I get that, but never assume that you can not leave a tip (or leave a negligible one) because somebody else will leave a big one. Some nights, that might happen at one table to one lucky server, host, or bartender, but it is not the rule, it is very much the exception. Like I said, we have mental tip calculators, and we know what percentage we're being tipped. Also, if you have a problem with the service, mention it to somebody instead of "punishing" your server by refusing to leave a tip. Some of us depend on them to get by, and that's not fair to someone who is likely trying their best to do their job.
Catholic Twist: Remember the story about Jesus flipping the money changers' tables and driving them out of the temple with a whip? Yep, here's looking at you, cheap tippers! Not only were the money changers not supposed to be doing business in the temple, but on top of that, they cheated the poor people who were only trying to offer God His due when they changed their money before making them buy the sacrificial animals. Okay, so we're not necessarily worshipping God through our work, but not tipping or under tipping does cheat hard-working people out of money they have rightfully earned. Do you really want to have to answer for doing that? No, I didn't think so.
So there it is, folks. A few guidelines for how to act in a restaurant from real, live restaurant staff! Feel free to print and laminate this at any point, should you need to (or don't, it's completely up to you). But please remember that waitstaff are people too. :)
Do: Try to be friendly when you come in. We work very hard to make the restaurant atmosphere a pleasant and welcoming one, not just because then you'll spend more money, but mostly because we do actually want you to enjoy being there. Smile at the hosts and servers, and even feel free to make a corny joke (we'll always give an obligatory chuckle). You're the unknown in this situation, so if you're friendly and at ease with us, our friendliness goes from automated to genuine pretty fast.
Don't: Try to be fake friendly or sour when you come in. We know what automated friendliness looks like (we're likely a lot better at it than you), and it's sort of awkward when patrons do it. We're always smiling and trying to make your experience a good one, and if you come in with a dour attitude, it makes everyone's life harder. Nobody likes a sour puss, and you certainly wouldn't appreciate it if that's how we acted.
Catholic Twist: When you're making an effort to be genuinely friendly, you're showing a little bit of Christ's love to people who are working just as hard as you do with a lot of the same life pressures. While we basically operate under the "love your neighbor as yourself" principle all the time, it is much easier to do when our neighbor is trying to love us as well. Also, being dour tempts us to gossip and be uncharitable toward you in other ways, and it effects your experience negatively as well. "But rather, love your enemies and do good to them... then your reward will be great and you will be children of the Most High, for he himself is kind to the ungrateful and the wicked. Be merciful, just as (also) your Father is merciful." (Lk 6:35-36)
Do: Cooperate with your server. Since you just walked in, you may or may not have taken a cursory glance at your surroundings, but please do. Try to see if your section (all of which your server is taking care of) is full, noisy, or occupied by troublesome patrons. Either way, please be kind to and cooperative with your server. Yes, it is his/her job to take your order/bring you sustenance/smile and check up on you/bring your check, but he or she will likely be trying their darndest to give you the best possible service, and that deserves some cooperation. Remember, the word is server, not servant.
Don't: Tell the host/server that you're in a rush, and need to be out by x-o-clock. If you're coming to eat at a sit down restaurant, the staff assumes that you have budgeted enough time to eat there. We also assume that you know about this crazy phenomenon that occasionally strikes restaurants, called getting busy. Please, please do not come in and order anyone to serve you immediately because it's 6:15, and you absolutely must be out of here by 7:30. Even if the restaurant isn't packed, time still needs to be allowed for the cooking and preparation of your food. Rushing us makes things come out poorly and creates unnecessary stress. And if the restaurant is busy, rushing your server will cause him or her to neglect the other patrons, which will aggravate them.
Catholic Twist: The root of this do and don't is humility. To enter any business and demand immediate service because you have something you need to do is the height of arrogance. It tells the staff that servicing you is more important than running their business effectively, and the other clientele that your business is more important than theirs. If you had truly thought about your time constraints and whether or not you had the time for dinner at a sit-down restaurant, you would likely have been humble enough to choose to go to McDonald's instead of making a hassle elsewhere. "For pride is the reservoir of sin, a source which runs over with vice..." (Sir 10:13)
Do: Ask your server for a few recommendations. Everyone in a restaurant except the busboy and the dish washer are required to know the menu items and their ingredients. If you don't know what you want to eat, you can ask any one of us what's good, and we'll tell you, though to be fair, we'll usually tell you our favorites unless you ask about a specific category of food. But if you want a couple of choices straight from the source, there is no better asset than your server (and remember, this is part of his or her job).
Don't: Order something you've never had, and send it back if you don't like it. Never had a particular cut of steak or ethnic-inspired dish before? Go ahead, try it. Expand your palate by trying something new. But for the love of all that is good, do not send the meal back to the kitchen if you discover you don't like it. This is unfair and wasteful, and you're not going to get another meal without having to pay for it. It doesn't matter if you only had three bites, because the restaurant had to pay for the food, the resources and people to cook it, and for the time the server spent waiting on you. If you're not sure you'll like it, order the burger or the pasta.
Catholic Twist: This set is more about consideration of the people serving you. Not just your server, but the kitchen staff, and even the managers. Yes, the server has to spend more time on you listening to your complaints and getting you a meal you will actually eat, but the cooks have to make more food, the dish washer has to wash more, and the managers (who have a bottom line to watch) won't appreciate having to throw away perfectly good food. This causes unnecessary frustration for everyone involved, and neither we nor you will be tempted to be charitable with or about each other in this situation. "A word is the source of every deed; a thought, of every act. The root of all conduct is the mind..." (Sir 37:16-17)
Do: Be considerate of your server. Taking care of you is your server's job, but only part of it. The rest includes, but is not limited to, bussing and setting tables, and serving at least three or four other tables, cleaning the area they're working in, and probably some side work they split with the rest of the staff. They are working on a schedule, and there is only so much time they have in which to do all the work they've been assigned for the day. If you are pleasant and minimally obtrusive, it makes the server's job that much easier.
Don't: Demand an inordinate amount of your server's time or attention. Like I said, your server has a job to do of which taking care of you is only a part. This is not to say that you should not interact with your server at all, but if you don't need to, you probably shouldn't. Don't worry, nobody will think you're some sort of introverted freak, they'll probably just assume you're too busy enjoying your meal or your company to bother the server.
Catholic Twist: Some people seem to forget that even though they're enjoying leisure time at a restaurant, the staff is not. It's not that we dislike being there, but it is our job. And since we're at work, we are required to be industrious. Like most people, even if we're at work, we might not exactly want to be industrious, but we have to be. Taking up a lot of our time allows us to neglect our other work and indulge in sloth, which will have no repercussions for you, but if it happens enough times, it could certainly spell trouble for us. St. Paul advises that those who do not work should also not eat, do you really want that for your server?
Do: Report actual problems or legitimately atrocious service to the manager. He or she should know if a table or chair is broken, or if there is some equally serious problem in the restaurant that needs to be taken care of. Also, if your server or host is rude, surly, slow, inattentive, and ignoring you, that is something the manager could best address with that individual to make it stop. Managers, staff, and patrons will thank you for being astute and conscientious enough to speak up about legitimate issues that need fixing. That being said:
Don't: Approach the manager over a forgotten straw or underdone steak. Neither of these is a serious issue at all, and hence, neither is worth making a stink over to somebody who will simply apologize and refer you to your server (the appropriate channel through which to address the "problem"). Also, managers have numbers to crunch and an entire business to run, and while they do want you to be satisfied, they personally are not responsible for ensuring your steak is well done or there's enough cherry syrup in your drink. They're not always so keen on being brought away from their work by the staff, and we only bother them when we absolutely have to.
Catholic Twist: This one is about temperance. It is fitting to let someone know about an issue that actually will affect their business, and you would be remiss if you knew and didn't inform someone. But it is intemperate to blow something small out of proportion (usually out of misplaced anger) and then insist on talking to a manager about it. St. Paul admonishes people in both 2 Timothy and Titus about being temperate, and let's face it, anger is never a good thing.
And finally,
Do: Tip whoever served you- waiter, host, or bartender. Lots of people think that tipping is a nicety that you observe because you're being served, but that if service isn't stellar, you don't need to tip. This is untrue. Most restaurant staff do not make the minimum wage, because tips are part of our wages. That's right, it's not a formality, it's how we get paid. We do our best to serve you in whichever way we do, and just because you don't see all the work that goes into your experience, doesn't mean we're not doing it. And believe me, we have mental tip calculators, so we know when we're being cheated. The typical rate is 18% of your bill. 20% if the service was stellar, but absolutely no less than 15%. Lots of restaurant staff are working two jobs to support themselves, and that's if they're lucky. If not, they're working at the restaurant and somewhere else to make ends meet for a family, and tips are part of how they do that.
Don't: Assume someone else will do it. Not everybody has worked in restaurants, I get that, but never assume that you can not leave a tip (or leave a negligible one) because somebody else will leave a big one. Some nights, that might happen at one table to one lucky server, host, or bartender, but it is not the rule, it is very much the exception. Like I said, we have mental tip calculators, and we know what percentage we're being tipped. Also, if you have a problem with the service, mention it to somebody instead of "punishing" your server by refusing to leave a tip. Some of us depend on them to get by, and that's not fair to someone who is likely trying their best to do their job.
Catholic Twist: Remember the story about Jesus flipping the money changers' tables and driving them out of the temple with a whip? Yep, here's looking at you, cheap tippers! Not only were the money changers not supposed to be doing business in the temple, but on top of that, they cheated the poor people who were only trying to offer God His due when they changed their money before making them buy the sacrificial animals. Okay, so we're not necessarily worshipping God through our work, but not tipping or under tipping does cheat hard-working people out of money they have rightfully earned. Do you really want to have to answer for doing that? No, I didn't think so.
So there it is, folks. A few guidelines for how to act in a restaurant from real, live restaurant staff! Feel free to print and laminate this at any point, should you need to (or don't, it's completely up to you). But please remember that waitstaff are people too. :)
Tuesday, July 5, 2011
Jesus Christ is the Same Yesterday, Today, and Forever
Since I started this blog, I've wanted to write a post about my parents. I've wanted to be able to examine the situation I find myself in with them. It is peculiar, and has taken these two months to fully riddle out (though I suspect I have not gotten quite to the bottom of it yet). I have had to observe and listen to them, take in some of what they're taking in, and try to remember what is was like to be how they are to achieve my meager understanding of our situation. Even if I do manage to fully understand what has happened and continues to happen, I expect it will somehow remain, in the words of Yul Brenner "a puzzlement". To lay out what exactly I've learned, I'm going to need to give a little bit of back story to ensure that the whole issue (as I understand it) is brought to light.
To start, some seven or eight years ago, I became interested in politics. I was in middle school, and the primaries and caucuses were raging to see who President Bush's opponent would be in the 2004 election. A couple of friends and I were raised in Democrat households, and so we came down squarely in favor of whoever wasn't George W. Bush. Since we had decided we were "politically active" now, we started finding out what it was that the Democratic Party preached as the solutions to society's ills. I quickly became the most liberal person I knew, and proclaimed my new-found identity to the world. My mother liked to describe me as being "to the left of Richard Belzer" (a liberal Libertarian actor on one of my favorite t.v. shows).
To prove my legitimate political cajones, I could often be found annoying everyone within earshot with my very enlightened pronouncements on why the president sucked (he was dumber than my cats), why the vice president was evil (dude, have you seen what he looks like???) and how the Democrats were totally kewl and John Kerry was going to whoop George Bush's butt in the general election. I was of the opinion that everybody should be just as liberal as I was, and then society would have no problems. I mean, shouldn't everybody have supported gay marriage, abortion on demand, and embryonic stem cell research unequivocally? It was just common sense to me, and unfortunately for everyone else, they were woefully lacking in it.
Now, some of the things I supported were rather insidious, and some of them were echoes of what other liberals I idolized thought. My views matured as I got older, and as I began to see that not everybody disagreed with me because they were a bunch of fascist jack*sses whose mothers had dropped them on their heads. This, however, made me no less liberal, especially as I began my foray into atheism and neo-paganism in high school. I believed the entire time that my heart was in the right place (though my mouthy opinions almost never came from that place) and so did my parents, who tolerated my liberality and were proud of the very "aware" young woman I was becoming.
A few weeks before leaving to go to college, I had what I thought at the time was a powerful reversion back to Catholicism (until the real reversion happened), and left for school hoping to find a nice church where I could hit up the Mass each Sunday. When the actual reversion happened on September 11, my whole world was rocked. I knew there was more to God and Catholicism than I had ever thought there was, and I was determined to absorb it all. This led to my becoming pro-life, and reversed a good number of the social views I had held at home. When my parents came down for Parents' Weekend, they discovered this all at once and reacted viscerally. They saw what I had done as a rejection of my upbringing, their efforts at raising me. I saw their reaction as a rejection of who I was because it wasn't like them.
I had always heard (and usually participated in) my parents' lambasting of any person less liberal than themselves as I was growing up and developing my views. We assumed we knew what the other guys had in their hearts and minds, and it was idiotic. To us, all truly civilized people were Democrats or liberal Independents (Libertarians opposed gun control, so they couldn't really be as smart as they wanted to seem), and all Republicans or conservative Libertarians were nothing but thawed out neandertals. When I went off to school, I opened myself up to the Church and what she taught, and more importantly, why she taught it. I wanted to know every single thing I could about this body which had brought me face-to-face with the Head. On faith, I brought myself to learn and believe everything I had been raised to oppose (if not outright hate) until I could delve into the intellectual aspects of it. All the while, I had never realized that being as liberal as I was for so many years reinforced my parents' leanings, and made them even more liberal than they had been before.
Over all that has transpired since then, I have continued to grow in my relationship with God. I have come to love Christ more than I have loved any person or thing, without exception. In turn, Christ has called me to love Him and all people with agape, the Divine Love which cares only for the good of the other. I have often failed at this, but I try to do so whenever possible. It has led me to some unfortunate incidents with my parents, often ending in some passive-aggressive statement about how there are some things which some people just don't understand because they're too young, and don't know how the world works yet. As a result of this change in our relationship, most of the storge, the tender feeling of love felt for people with a familial or similar bond, has faded from it. Home is usually tense, and interactions are volatile, especially if politics are involved.
This reversal of sorts is painful to see and deal with, mostly because it is also a role reversal. Because the tenderness is almost all gone from my relationship with my parents, anything can become a bone of contention, even if we agree on it. I often hear nasty comments about Republicans as if I am one and just waiting to come out of the closet about it. If Planned Parenthood, adoption, or stem cell research comes up, I hear about how antiquated it is to oppose such good on such baseless grounds as religion. When I first noticed the pattern, it struck me painfully because I was instructed by Christ (and my school's chaplain) not to respond in kind, and to keep loving my parents even if it hurt. It also often seemed as if I was the adult in the house being needled by two teenagers about what fascist bigot I was for disagreeing with them. It's as if we've switched places entirely.
I have been tempted many times to call it quits on God and faith to have my parents back. At the FOCUS Conference I attended in January, while my friends were ecstatic with their new or renewed fervor for Christ, I wept bitterly in Adoration because it had hit me that my family would never be the same, and I couldn't wait for my parents to come around any longer. I was sorely tempted to tell God to take everything back, that it had been a nice run, but I preferred to have my parents rather than Him. My heart was nowhere in it, but I chose instead to pray for the strength to accept His will, no matter how much I hated it. I knew that I had come out of profound sin and darkness over the preceding months, and I was unwilling to go back or compromise.
Life since then has not been easy where my parents are concerned. Many times, I would get off the phone after talking to my parents and simply burst into tears. I hate having to see the broken remnants of my relationship with my parents, but it is my particular cross, and I will not put it down. This is the cost of following Christ, and I will pay it because life without Him is less than nothing compared to life since finding Him.
God called me back to Himself last summer, and in so doing, He asked for all of me. He asked for my mind, heart, and soul, with no return policy. I don't know what this means for my life, for my education or my family or anything else, but I intend to give God just exactly what he asked for: me. I've confided my fears in people about not knowing where my life will go, but I have come to believe the almost ubiquitous response I received: whatever He calls you to will be your happiness. Though other things may change, I believe the author of the letter to the Hebrews, "Jesus Christ is the same yesterday, today, and forever." (Heb 13:8)
To start, some seven or eight years ago, I became interested in politics. I was in middle school, and the primaries and caucuses were raging to see who President Bush's opponent would be in the 2004 election. A couple of friends and I were raised in Democrat households, and so we came down squarely in favor of whoever wasn't George W. Bush. Since we had decided we were "politically active" now, we started finding out what it was that the Democratic Party preached as the solutions to society's ills. I quickly became the most liberal person I knew, and proclaimed my new-found identity to the world. My mother liked to describe me as being "to the left of Richard Belzer" (a liberal Libertarian actor on one of my favorite t.v. shows).
To prove my legitimate political cajones, I could often be found annoying everyone within earshot with my very enlightened pronouncements on why the president sucked (he was dumber than my cats), why the vice president was evil (dude, have you seen what he looks like???) and how the Democrats were totally kewl and John Kerry was going to whoop George Bush's butt in the general election. I was of the opinion that everybody should be just as liberal as I was, and then society would have no problems. I mean, shouldn't everybody have supported gay marriage, abortion on demand, and embryonic stem cell research unequivocally? It was just common sense to me, and unfortunately for everyone else, they were woefully lacking in it.
Now, some of the things I supported were rather insidious, and some of them were echoes of what other liberals I idolized thought. My views matured as I got older, and as I began to see that not everybody disagreed with me because they were a bunch of fascist jack*sses whose mothers had dropped them on their heads. This, however, made me no less liberal, especially as I began my foray into atheism and neo-paganism in high school. I believed the entire time that my heart was in the right place (though my mouthy opinions almost never came from that place) and so did my parents, who tolerated my liberality and were proud of the very "aware" young woman I was becoming.
A few weeks before leaving to go to college, I had what I thought at the time was a powerful reversion back to Catholicism (until the real reversion happened), and left for school hoping to find a nice church where I could hit up the Mass each Sunday. When the actual reversion happened on September 11, my whole world was rocked. I knew there was more to God and Catholicism than I had ever thought there was, and I was determined to absorb it all. This led to my becoming pro-life, and reversed a good number of the social views I had held at home. When my parents came down for Parents' Weekend, they discovered this all at once and reacted viscerally. They saw what I had done as a rejection of my upbringing, their efforts at raising me. I saw their reaction as a rejection of who I was because it wasn't like them.
I had always heard (and usually participated in) my parents' lambasting of any person less liberal than themselves as I was growing up and developing my views. We assumed we knew what the other guys had in their hearts and minds, and it was idiotic. To us, all truly civilized people were Democrats or liberal Independents (Libertarians opposed gun control, so they couldn't really be as smart as they wanted to seem), and all Republicans or conservative Libertarians were nothing but thawed out neandertals. When I went off to school, I opened myself up to the Church and what she taught, and more importantly, why she taught it. I wanted to know every single thing I could about this body which had brought me face-to-face with the Head. On faith, I brought myself to learn and believe everything I had been raised to oppose (if not outright hate) until I could delve into the intellectual aspects of it. All the while, I had never realized that being as liberal as I was for so many years reinforced my parents' leanings, and made them even more liberal than they had been before.
Over all that has transpired since then, I have continued to grow in my relationship with God. I have come to love Christ more than I have loved any person or thing, without exception. In turn, Christ has called me to love Him and all people with agape, the Divine Love which cares only for the good of the other. I have often failed at this, but I try to do so whenever possible. It has led me to some unfortunate incidents with my parents, often ending in some passive-aggressive statement about how there are some things which some people just don't understand because they're too young, and don't know how the world works yet. As a result of this change in our relationship, most of the storge, the tender feeling of love felt for people with a familial or similar bond, has faded from it. Home is usually tense, and interactions are volatile, especially if politics are involved.
This reversal of sorts is painful to see and deal with, mostly because it is also a role reversal. Because the tenderness is almost all gone from my relationship with my parents, anything can become a bone of contention, even if we agree on it. I often hear nasty comments about Republicans as if I am one and just waiting to come out of the closet about it. If Planned Parenthood, adoption, or stem cell research comes up, I hear about how antiquated it is to oppose such good on such baseless grounds as religion. When I first noticed the pattern, it struck me painfully because I was instructed by Christ (and my school's chaplain) not to respond in kind, and to keep loving my parents even if it hurt. It also often seemed as if I was the adult in the house being needled by two teenagers about what fascist bigot I was for disagreeing with them. It's as if we've switched places entirely.
I have been tempted many times to call it quits on God and faith to have my parents back. At the FOCUS Conference I attended in January, while my friends were ecstatic with their new or renewed fervor for Christ, I wept bitterly in Adoration because it had hit me that my family would never be the same, and I couldn't wait for my parents to come around any longer. I was sorely tempted to tell God to take everything back, that it had been a nice run, but I preferred to have my parents rather than Him. My heart was nowhere in it, but I chose instead to pray for the strength to accept His will, no matter how much I hated it. I knew that I had come out of profound sin and darkness over the preceding months, and I was unwilling to go back or compromise.
Life since then has not been easy where my parents are concerned. Many times, I would get off the phone after talking to my parents and simply burst into tears. I hate having to see the broken remnants of my relationship with my parents, but it is my particular cross, and I will not put it down. This is the cost of following Christ, and I will pay it because life without Him is less than nothing compared to life since finding Him.
God called me back to Himself last summer, and in so doing, He asked for all of me. He asked for my mind, heart, and soul, with no return policy. I don't know what this means for my life, for my education or my family or anything else, but I intend to give God just exactly what he asked for: me. I've confided my fears in people about not knowing where my life will go, but I have come to believe the almost ubiquitous response I received: whatever He calls you to will be your happiness. Though other things may change, I believe the author of the letter to the Hebrews, "Jesus Christ is the same yesterday, today, and forever." (Heb 13:8)
Saturday, June 25, 2011
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