On Voting and Gambling

Voting has always felt somewhat like gambling to me. The possibility of actually obtaining the hoped-for outcome is slim to none, but you're supposed to give it the benefit of the doubt anyway.

I've been saying for years that my political philosophy class in college taught me primarily that democracy corrupts more functionally than other systems of government, which is useful because every system of government corrupts. Ours does still function, even with how far removed it is from the Founding Fathers' intentions.

What is the purpose of the circus we call the race for the presidency? Is anyone's mind changed by campaigns, conventions, and debates? Or is it all merely expensive entertainment for the masses, wherein each citizen gets to watch "their guy" and "the other guy(s)" make spectacles of themselves?

Even the lectures I heard this election cycle about responsible citizenship and the common good and whatnot: not one of them managed to be nonpartisan. If someone is considering abandoning their support for a particular candidate, telling them that their only acceptable option is to do so is probably not going to be helpful. Changing hearts and minds is a slow process that demands both openness on the part of the listener and thorough, balanced honesty on the part of the speaker. 

The trouble with gambling is that I pretty much always lose. The apocalypse that was so widely predicted didn't exactly happen the last time Obama won, though he did do more damage than I expected him to (considering the limitations of the executive office). It won't be a walk in the park this time, but we'll manage.

And just think! The spectacle begins again in just about two years. I'll vote next time, but count me out of the proceedings, thanks.

Ut inimicos sanctae Ecclesiae humiliare digneris: te rogamus, audi nos.

Ut regibus et principibus christianis pacem et veram concordiam donare digneris: te rogamus, audi nos.

What are Religion, Sex, and Politics?

The answer is: Things you’re not supposed to discuss in polite company.

Politics never held any interest for me anyway.  In fact, I excuse myself and get far away from political conversation whenever possible.

Sex...  Well, I really have little interest in hearing about other people’s sex lives.  Especially at family gatherings.

Religion.  It’s usually a subject that’s left alone (at least, in my family gatherings, where nearly everyone there outside of my immediate family and the grandparents is a lapsed Catholic), and every now and again I’m reminded why.

Maybe it’s just because I’m innately a people pleaser, but I’ve found that I don’t really mind the conversations wherein I tell someone that my career goal (outside of raising children, of course) is to offer to your average Sunday Catholics the treasures of the Church that tend to lay just beyond their reach in this day and age, and they say that sounds worthwhile, and so long as I’m passionate about it, ‘cuz that’s all that really matters.

The more troublesome conversations come when people (i.e., relatives and family friends of my parents’ generation) know that I’m religious and that I want to work in the Church, and they talk to me about religious things, expecting there to be common ground.  Things like how great it was when the Mass was English, and they could have guitar Mass (I chant in the schola for Latin Mass).  Things like the exciting possibility of women priests (I would sooner die than “become” one, despite my fervor for the Liturgy).  Things like how personable it is when the priest’s personality shows through in the way he celebrates Mass (I try to block that out because it distracts me from the sacrifice at hand).  Things like the little doilies the girls had to wear on their heads, and how they shrunk in size until they weren’t required anymore (I’ve been wearing the veil for nine months).  Not that they know any of this, because I don’t tell them (well, my immediate family knows some, but not much).

Yesterday I received a letter stating that I’ve been accepted to the Liturgical Institute, where I will study *surprise!* the Sacred Liturgy.  Naturally, this leads most people to question whether I intend to become a priest.  My two stock answers are “I like all the Church’s teachings just the way they are” and “Jesus had the perfect woman right in front of Him and didn’t ordain her, so who are we to ordain women?”  Uncle B’s response tonight was, “Well, how do we know He didn’t?” after which he began to ramble about the gnostic gospels.

I studied Biblical theology, inerrancy, all that.  I believe that the Bible is the Word of God, and the books in the canon were accurately written, and the canon itself was chosen via the influence of the Holy Spirit, just as Mother Church teaches.  I studied all that once, and I know that it is more reasonable to believe in the historicity of the Gospels than to disbelieve in them.  But I don’t remember all the arguments!  That has never been the part of faith that has interested me.  I’ve recalled what I need in order to move on with my life.  And yet I find myself unable to do anything but smile so as to give some (but not full) assent, and feel awkward.

At the end of the day, it’s days like this that remind me of the irrational aspect of our faith.  Sure, fides is built up by ratio, but our belief in “Christ crucified [is] a stumbling block to Jews and folly to Gentiles” (1 Cor 1:23 ).  It wouldn’t be called faith if were entirely knowable by reason only.  There is something laudatory about placing our trust in the God of our fathers and just leaving it there, even when we can’t remember enough to explain it to others.

I’ve studied our faith so thoroughly for so long that it’s very easy to forget about the irrational side of things.  But uncomfortable-for-me conversations like tonight’s remind me that I’m not in control, no matter how much knowledge is at my fingertips, and I never will be.  Faith is a virtue, one upon which I should place greater value.

After all the great works he had written (keep in mind that it was once said of him by a pope that no miracles were needed through his intercession for his sainthood, because every article he wrote of the Summa was a miracle), St. Thomas Aquinas had a vision of heaven and stopped writing, because “All this is so much straw!”

I should pay less attention to the straw and more attention to Him Who created said straw, beautiful though it may be.

On Notre Shame

If you've somehow been living in a bubble and missed all of the crazy news reportings on the Notre Dame Commencement scandal, head on over to the Papist and catch up.  I'm too short on time to recap.

But two things have struck me that seem to be glossed over, the latter even more than the former, by the Catholic media that are covering this story:

1) The objection to Obama receiving the degree has at least as much to do with Catholic identity than it does with  abortion politics (more so, in my opinion).  The fact that so many people at Notre Dame don't seem to realize or understand the great rift this places between the university and its bishop (not to mention the Church at large) is sad indeed.

2) What about the graduates?  Their commencement is no place for such an intellectual battle to take place!  Their day should be about them!  I commend Mary Ann Glendon for seeming to remember them in her letter (7th paragraph).

The offer to President Obama will not be rescinded.  Even in the best of circumstances (which this is not) it would have been nearly (if not outright) impossible to have cancelled the honor once the word went public and scandal erupted.

But the truth does need to be spoken.  Still, let's be careful to remember the graduates, who have no control over this big media event and how it colors their big day.  May they and their families, at least, be able to celebrate their achievements and an education well-pursued.

On Proposition 8 and the American Government

I am morally in favor of Proposition 8. That is irrelevant.

I am politically outraged, scandalized, and demoralized by what is happening to Proposition 8, and it has nothing to do with morality. It can pretty much all be traced back to my 5th grade Social Studies class (the earliest taste of American civics I can remember).

As I recall, our government is a democracy - that means government by the people for the people. I also recall that our government has a tripartite structure so as to prevent one branch from becoming inordinately powerful. It's an old, dead argument that the judicial branch is hogging all the power. But this situation just takes things one step further down the endless spiral...

Somebody sued somebody else and the courts ruled that gay marriage was legal, though the question was already on the ballots for the general populace to decide whether they wanted gay marriage to be legal. The people said No (not overwhelmingly, but clearly enough), and the law was passed, in the typical fashion.

Except the lobbyists weren't happy. Enough noisy people were unhappy that this law, legitimately passed in the face of the great pressure, was immediately sent back to the courts, where they were sure to win (as are most special interest groups). Ridiculous measures have been put in place, down to revealing how people voted on this issue. It's as good as revoking their right to a free vote. How patently unamerican! Our founding fathers must be rolling over in their grave to see how we're completely disregarding their carefully constructed government documents.

The people spoke, and said that marriage is between a man and a woman. I don't care whether you agree with that or not; our government is a democracy, and the people have spoken. You can fight it through the normal means, but don't bully it out of them.

I am extremely disheartened by this whole situation, and it has less to do with the continued destruction of the institution of marriage than it does with the continued destruction of the American government.

On Passive-Agression and Other Things

Yesterday morning, I put up a facebook status that was vaguely politicalish. Yesterday evening, upon returning from work, I discovered 11 comments on it (they read like arguments between blunt, conservative Catholics and our liberal secular peers). I addressed comments individually that bore answer (by wall post), but when I was indirectly accused of being a one-issue voter, I couldn't handle it and gave a simple but clear explanation of the points in question, swearing to leave it at that.

Why do I bring this up? Because I was being passive-agressive in my take on politics and facebook. I used to hate passive agression (back in high school). I saw it as unnecessarily cowardly, and the inevitable explosion of that pent-up emotion seemed hardly worth it. But rooming with Liz last year showed me that one could be passive-agressive and still be a good, likable person who's in control of herself as much as is anyone else. And so I think I became a little more passive, a little more laid-back.

And these sorts of things cause me to realize: So much about the person I've become has subtly changed from the person I was in high school. So many of the things I prided myself on are no longer really even a part of me. I'm still stubbornly solid in my opinions, but I'm no longer confrontational. I'm still well aware of my unique gifts and strengths, but I no longer have the "I am woman; I am awesome!" attitude I once enjoyed. I'm still certain the rest of the world would be better off if they subscribed to my ideas, but now I'm just not interested in explaining why (it would take far too much work to bring a stranger around to the hermeneutic through which I look at life/the world).

I know I'm better off for most of these changes that God has made as He's led me to Himself. But I miss some of the old ways - especially that fun, obnoxiously endearing attitude, and (in a different sense) the ability to wear my opinions on my sleeve and not worry about who cares about what.

I think that's what's been the strangest for me. Because I'm so conscious of scandal and detraction, I am nearly always guarded (save with my closest friends, of course). And that's weird. I loved just being free and unconcerned with the expression of my feelings, but now I have always to be concerned about spreading negativity or being uncharitable or giving a bad impression... I just feel like I'm fake much of the time, like I've finally understand the phenomenon I've been reading about for years about putting up walls or putting on a mask. Not that I'm keeping myself and everyone out of the inner regions of my heart, just that I'm keeping the outside world at bay.

But how am I to show others the attractiveness of Christ if I keep Him hidden behind a wall?

I haven't figured that out yet. Any thoughts?

As more and more of me has become interiorized, I have to consider whether to share or hide my fasts even from my believing friends.

On Politics

Well, I suppose Emperor-Elect Obama will make as good a leader as any of the Socialist States of America, where the right to abortion is more fundamental than the right to free speech.

I believe that sentence about sums up my dissatisfaction with the results of this year's election. So on to other political topics...

I find that I am afraid that my co-workers will make election-related comments to me. I am certainly not happy with the outcome of most anything I voted for or hoped in, but I am loath to express it to any but my closest friends. I don't even want to put something partisan on my facebook, for goodness' sake!

So why have I such fear of being perceived as partisan? Is it because I feel guilty that I, a twentysomething American, am not a raging liberal on all the controversial social issues of our time? Or is it perhaps because I'm not sure I'm really a conservative on any but the moral issues?

Yes, I'm a registered Republican (something I've repeatedly considered changing), but nor for more than the fact that at least I can make a splash in the primaries that way (as opposed to as an independent). And yes, I have tended to consistently dislike the Republican candidates less than the Democratic candidates. Still, I fear being labeled a Republican - or even a conservative! Perhaps this is largely because I don't know the length and breadth of what those classifications mean; perhaps I fall into the category of postmodern post-label people. Perhaps I just don't want to put my name to something I'm not in full agreement with. I don't look at politics like those good Yankee fans who love the team but disagree bitterly with the administration; I'm just not interested in that depth of knowledge and self-investment.

Perhaps my real problem is that I, like many, have little to no faith in the system that's now running our country.

Switching gears a bit: I commented to my dad last night (thinking of the many apt comparisons between America and Rome) that perhaps, if Obama won, it might speed the downfall of America as a world power, which would probably not be a bad thing. He disagreed, and it was with his answer that I realized the fatal flaw in those comparison-arguments: When Rome fell, there was no scarier budding world power to take its place. When America falls, who will take our place? Russia? China? Venezuela? As my dad pointed out, at least we're trying to do the right thing. Scary.

This may be a multiple-post day. I'll try not to binge so much in the future.

On Witch Hunts and Theocracies

So I've decided to change things a little - to make this somewhat less of a strictly-essays blog, to stray more into subjective, personal things... It was to be a personal thing anyway. Sometimes I think I draw the line between myself and the rest of the world a little too thickly.

Anyway! My first goal is to avoid starting paragraphs with meaningless transition words like "so" and "anyway." Starting now.

My sister's high school put on The Crucible last night, and I went to see it - she was ushering and needed a ride, I retained a fairly strong affinity for the play from high school discussions, and her school's drama department never fails to put on superbly acted/directed shows, and my plans had been cancelled by the rain anyway. Well, once I got past the distractions of being seated immediately in front of the lighting booth (read: it wasn't dark by me, even when the theater was dark) and being surrounded by texting high schoolers (even though they threatened to throw out audience members who were texting! What gall!), I found myself engaged in the play intellectually as much as emotionally.

This is a new thing for me, watching a story and considering the philosophical ramifications, but I like it. It certainly made watching the play alone amidst a sea of people a much more pleasant experience.

What first struck me was the caricature of the Christian faith that seemed to be speaking to me in most of the characters. Then I thought about the historical time frame and realized that Puritanism is really very unlike Catholicism (and I considered the pleasing liberality in Catholicism - but more on that another day, perhaps). Instead I tried to consider what my response would have been were I any of the characters depicted.

Say what you will, Arthur Miller has a knack for making nearly all of his characters destestable. At the very least, each person's flaws were clearly visible. I tried, as in reality, to see Christ in each character, to be forgiving to their personality flaws and instead see things from their perspective, to give each character the benefit of the doubt that they really tried to do the right thing... but it was so hard! The "Christians" were so prideful, and once the established order of things was turned completely upside-down, it became painfully clear who was lying and why. Still, it's so much easier as a detached audience member to see that the people in power were obviously being duped than it is to be such a person, admit your own wrong, and turn the system on its head for the greater good of everyone. (Mary Warren tried this, and couldn't hold to the truth.)

Which brings me to my next topic: When government is combined with religion, bad things happen. Here I saw surprising parallels with Zamyatin's We, Orwell's 1984, Moore's V for Vendetta, etc. Perhaps I'm just more sensitive to this because I'm a person who values my faith and religious practices very highly, and who believes that the separation of church and state is being carried out here in a way contrary to its original intention, but it seems clear that whenever the two are combined, both are weakened, and fallen human nature is allowed free reign over both. I think this might be leading me into a brief diatribe about how some form of atheism has become the new culturally dominant minority religion, and anti-Catholicism the trendy new anti-Semitism (not that it's new, but that it's fashionable, and socially acceptable although technically politically incorrect)... and that's not really where I want to go right now. More on that when I finish Michael Novak's No One Sees God: The Dark Night of Atheists and Believers.

Sorry to leave this conclusionless, but my musings were interrupted at length by both my sister and my mother, and my brain is in a thoroughly different place now than when I began, and I'm exhausted.

In other news: I think it's easier to write nonfiction. No wonder there's so much more of it out on the market.

On Balance

(I know this is somewhat after the initial splash, but I took my time to process this fully. Cut me a break - I'm new at this, ok?)

St. Thomas de Sales often said, in much prettier words, that you catch more flies with honey than with vinegar - "truth tempered with charity," or something like that.

This sounds great in concept, but in practice, where does one draw the line? Bishop Niederauer of San Francisco initially got some flak for inviting Nancy Pelosi to a conversation, rather than giving a diatribe about the obviousness of her error, after her notorious recent comments about abortion. While I usually agree with the juggernauts of the Catholic blogosphere, I found myself staunchly on Neiderauer's side: unpopular as his statement may have been, his responsibility is for the souls for his flock, including hers. Perhaps he didn't excoriate her because he knew that wouldn't draw her to Christ (and besides, over two dozen other bishops had made the issue abundantly clear already).

You can't compromise the truth! People have a very real right to know the truth. But you can't convert people with a sledgehammer, as my professors frequently reminded my classmates and me. The hardcore road may be very attractive to many of us, especially when beaurocracy and politics and red tape make life needlessly difficult. But that doesn't mean that it's necessarily the best way to do things.

So what's the balance? How do I avoid being an overbearing charismatic, a bitter traditionalist, a liturgical terrorist, on the one hand, but equally to avoid being lukewarm, a sellout, jaded and apathetic? How do I compromise neither Christ's Truth nor my Christian responsibility to usually not be a jerk to other people?

I don't have an answer here; just questions. I think this whole post can be summed up in the words of St. Josemaría Escrivá that I read between beginning this post and finishing it:

The charity of Jesus Christ will often lead you to make concessions. That is very noble. And the charity of Jesus Christ will often lead you to stand your ground. That too is very noble.

He has a wonderful way of stating things in an obvious, simple, and very challenging way. The question now is simply one of discerning when to concede and when to stand firm...