So in spite of the fact that I suddenly realized a couple of weeks ago that I couldn't fit my clothes the same way, I have been having doubts and anxieties about whether everything was progressing the way it should with the pregnancy--specifically, I have been worried about the baby growing. I think I have been responding to a combination of factors, here. My last doctor's appointment was not particularly satisfactory. I was not measured because the nurse midwife doubted her ability to measure me at 13 weeks. The heartbeat was faint and hard-to-find and, I realized today, was not actually the baby--rather, 9 times out of 10, they are listening to the placenta! I guess that's a good indicator, too, but it's a little disingenuous to tell the mother she's hearing the baby when it's actually the placenta that she's hearing! Also, the trend in doctor's offices that don't want to eat the insurance offset for testing is not to test the mother's urine at each visit--only the "later" visits. So I had very little to reassure me at the last visit.
Also, I've been influenced by all of the accounts of miscarriages and pregnancy complications that I have been reading all over the web. Some from those whom I know personally, others, first-hand accounts from bloggers I "know" and others' first hand accounts in response to others' experiences, and then third-hand or more accounts of someone who had this thing happen, usually in a pro-life, don't-abort-imperfect-babies context. So these have been preying on my mind.
In addition, there is this "rhetoric of suffering" in Catholicism. I think it depends on how susceptible one is to such things, but I have a very vivid imagination where pain is concerned--physical and emotional. It's like an enhanced empathy. It has its good points with connecting with people, but also its drawbacks, like when I can visualize the accounts of grizzly murders, etc., on the news and imagine myself as the victim. I've done this from a very young age. I still suffer from memories of reading about Dr. Mengele at Auschwitz when I was a pre-teen. So the Catholic "rhetoric of suffering" (as I'm calling it). . . It's mainly intended to stress that God is present during times of suffering, to comfort those who are experiencing or have experienced pain, and to teach that those in pain deserve the chance to live through their suffering because God manifests himself in a special way in the lives of those who suffer. There is this idea that these people have a special "cross to bear," and that they will or should "join their suffering to the cross." It can be a difficult thing to wrap one's mind around, and of course, the lives of the saints and of the faithful who have survived trials and emerged recognizing their own strength provide examples to help with the concept of this special kind of holiness. Well, with my imagination, I find myself, in a kind of odd thankfulness for my own situation, waiting for an unfortunate event--for "my turn," if you will. Now I know that different people have different trials in their lives, and I know I have some, but they seem increasingly small as compared to people I have read about. So a very small, fearful part of me dreads that I might be "joined to the cross" in such a manner. Perhaps I'm experiencing what some young Catholics feel in idealistic fervor when they wish that they were saints and/or martyrs. Only, I feel it more realistically, perhaps knowing what it would entail. So what better locus for anxiety (and time, given the hormones) than pregnancy?
So I have been worried. And last week, I made an appointment with a lay midwife (not the nurse midwife I saw last--this woman is not affiliated with a doctor's office), to get some peace of mind about my progress. Apart from confusion about the day of the appointment (she had written down next Wednesday), the visit went well. The heartbeat was very hard to find, but she did eventually find it. But first, the measurement--I'm at about 15 1/2 weeks. The midwife measured me, then she asked how many weeks along I am, then she asked if I had had an ultrasound, and whether my due date was "adjusted" or whether it confirmed the original estimate. Well, I adjusted the due date by 3 or so days myself because of NFP--I knew my ovulation date pretty certainly (after-the-fact, but that's a different subject!), but the ultrasound confirmed my own estimate. It seems I am currently measuring at 19 or so weeks--a good 4 weeks larger than where I should be!
With my son, who was 9 lbs. 6 1/2 oz. and born pretty much on the due date, I measured about 2 weeks larger than I was supposed to measure consistently. This is quite a bit larger than that! Now, I may have had a slight uterine "firming"--I hesitate to call it a contraction, because I get them all the time and they're harmless, and contractions at 15 weeks sounds bad--and I don't know if that affected things. But her thought was that if she were my midwife and I had not yet had an ultrasound, she would suggest having an ultrasound to check for twins. Now, I have had 2 ultrasounds, but at 7 and 9 weeks. I don't know if a twin could have been missed at that stage. Anyway, I guess I will see if I continue to measure large, and I have the "big," diagnostic ultrasound in June, so that will clear up the mystery. So I'm worried about being too small, and this is what I find out!! Talk about over-achiever.
As for the twins, I have twin aunts (my mother's sisters), twin great uncles (my maternal grandmother's brothers), and my great grandmother (the same who bore my twin great uncles), had at least one--possibly two--additional sets of twins who, due to early 20th Century medical care and her rural location, died in very early infancy (family lore doesn't say how early, but I suspect shortly after birth). Now, these were identical twins, which, the medical community says, are not hereditary. Fraternal twins, yes. Identical twins, no. And yet there was always this "lore" that twins "skip a generation" and that it did not skip my grandmother's generation in our case, but did skip my mother's. So the next round of twins does fall to my generation. I don't think it's likely for me at this point, since the two ultrasounds didn't reveal any multiples. But given family history, I did think it sort of, well, funny that it was mentioned.
But I'm feeling better about everything, and it seems I have a happy uterus, so that's good too.
A related question: Why are "uplifting stories" always so darned depressing? I can't bring myself to read this one right now for the above-mentioned reasons. I'm rather afraid of what new fears it might breed. But it does rather illustrate my point about what's in the blogs these days. . . And, if you're curious, try here and here, also. Here's a whole collection that Melanie posted over at Wine Dark Sea. Good stories, but emotionally draining. . .
Showing posts with label Catholicism. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Catholicism. Show all posts
Wednesday, May 16, 2007
Tuesday, May 8, 2007
Veggie Proto-Eucharistic Tales
That title didn't get you, did it? ;)
So recently, the baby daughter has been interested in television--too interested in television, perhaps, except that her interest is really limited to music. She loves Sesame Street's musical skits--we don't actually watch the shows, as I have serious problems with the "new, improved" Sesame Street for the young generations. Instead, I have classic Sesame Street dvds (of the first few seasons) with "classic cuts"--that is, just the cool musical parts everyone loves. We also have Sesame Street videos from when my son was younger, before every dvd & video had to be Elmo-themed. Now we have the tyranny of Elmo!!
But I'm talking about Veggie Tales. When my son was younger, we collected the Veggie Tales videos. We first got hooked on the "Silly Songs," and expanded from there. We stopped about the time of "King George and the Ducky." For any who aren't familiar with Veggie Tales, they are animated vegetables who perform various moral tales, some biblical stories, all Bible-based. They are nondenominational Christian vegetables (though the creators chose to include only Old Testament stories, presumably to leave them open for all Judeo-Christian vieweres, though the Bible verse at the end is usually New Testament). The production value is good--rare for Christian children's productions--and the music is particularly stimulating. The silly songs are really the best--they provide a brief intermission in the tape, which usually included 2 episodes (I suspect the dvds are structured differently, but as the creators no longer have control, I refuse to upgrade to the dvds.)
There have always been some problems with the Veggie Tales versions of Bible stories--a misinterpretation of the stories, or the show's "fun" element rather took away from the story or promoted well, gluttony in the case I'm thinking of. In another case, there was a watering down of "mature themes" that wasn't appropriate for children's tapes, even in their watered-down form. In the case of 'King George and the Ducky," King George (read David) covets the *ahem* rubber ducky of one of his soldiers, and sends the soldier--a child vegetable character--to the front lines to be disposed of. The soldier does not die, but instead contracts a pie-induced version of shell-shock. To me, this was pretty much the last straw. They clearly went off the deep end in too many ways. Perhaps this was the beginning of their legal troubles. The earlier tales are much better.
Even among the "good" ones, though, I had some problems. Case in point (and the real subject of this post) is "Josh and the Big Wall." I remember singing songs in Protestant Sunday School about Joshua and the battle of Jericho. (I always liked the songs.) Even before becoming Catholic--in fact, dating back to my earliest introduction to Veggie Tales (through an Evangelical Protestant friend of my mom's), I had issues with this one. . . You see, the Veggies are reenacting the Isrealites' flight from Egypt. Moses has just died, and they are able to enter the Promised Land. The creators (of the show) took the phrase "a land flowing with milk & honey" and ran with it. The Isrealite Veggies are singing about all of the decadent things they will eat in the Promised Land--tacos, pintos 'n cheese, waffles; when they get to the city, slushies abound, and are the means of attack on the Isrealites by the people of Jericho.
When we reached a temporary Jim Henson saturation point the other day, I brought out the Silly Song sing-alongs, one of which includes the "Promised Land" song from "Josh and the Big Wall." We haven't really watched Veggie Tales since I became Catholic & we all started attending Mass regularly--except during my son's First Reconciliation "retreat" (or whatever), which featured "God Wants Me to Forgive Them?", slightly modified for church consumption. (It didn't really fit.) So my husband and I were groaning over the "Promised Land" song over the weekend, and it occurred to me that from a Catholic perspective, the following line is particularly grievous:
For years, we've eaten nothing but manna,
A dish that is filling, but bland...
So they put all that behind them in order to pig out in the Promised Land.
Well, the first thing I noticed as a convert, or as one who desired the Eucharist and was moving toward a conversion, were the Eucharistic and Proto-Eucharistic references throughout the Bible--Old Testament and New Testament--which go way beyond the account of the Last Supper. Manna, as God-given bread, is a striking example, and prepared for the Bread of Life: Christ's gift of Himself in the Eucharist. So beyond the fact that the video portrays a serious lack of gratitude for the fact that God has sustained the Isrealites through 40 years in the desert, there is the further disparagement of the heavenly bread that is a promise of the Gift of Christ (in) and the Eucharist.
Now, I am not going to go so far as to say that this was intentional (though if you look closely, the manna does look a bit like hosts). But it is a grave oversight on a couple of levels. Even non-Catholics should have a problem with the fact that the source of the humor is lack of gratitude and greed. Not exactly the values we want to promote. Some might take offense because of the caricature of the Isrealites. I think this is mostly innocent. And it will certainly not stop me from watching Veggie Tales--at least the good ones. But it is a caution to realize that non-denominational, even in the best possible sense, does not necessarily mean Catholic-sensitive. I mean, really--the Eucharist? Bland??
So recently, the baby daughter has been interested in television--too interested in television, perhaps, except that her interest is really limited to music. She loves Sesame Street's musical skits--we don't actually watch the shows, as I have serious problems with the "new, improved" Sesame Street for the young generations. Instead, I have classic Sesame Street dvds (of the first few seasons) with "classic cuts"--that is, just the cool musical parts everyone loves. We also have Sesame Street videos from when my son was younger, before every dvd & video had to be Elmo-themed. Now we have the tyranny of Elmo!!
But I'm talking about Veggie Tales. When my son was younger, we collected the Veggie Tales videos. We first got hooked on the "Silly Songs," and expanded from there. We stopped about the time of "King George and the Ducky." For any who aren't familiar with Veggie Tales, they are animated vegetables who perform various moral tales, some biblical stories, all Bible-based. They are nondenominational Christian vegetables (though the creators chose to include only Old Testament stories, presumably to leave them open for all Judeo-Christian vieweres, though the Bible verse at the end is usually New Testament). The production value is good--rare for Christian children's productions--and the music is particularly stimulating. The silly songs are really the best--they provide a brief intermission in the tape, which usually included 2 episodes (I suspect the dvds are structured differently, but as the creators no longer have control, I refuse to upgrade to the dvds.)
There have always been some problems with the Veggie Tales versions of Bible stories--a misinterpretation of the stories, or the show's "fun" element rather took away from the story or promoted well, gluttony in the case I'm thinking of. In another case, there was a watering down of "mature themes" that wasn't appropriate for children's tapes, even in their watered-down form. In the case of 'King George and the Ducky," King George (read David) covets the *ahem* rubber ducky of one of his soldiers, and sends the soldier--a child vegetable character--to the front lines to be disposed of. The soldier does not die, but instead contracts a pie-induced version of shell-shock. To me, this was pretty much the last straw. They clearly went off the deep end in too many ways. Perhaps this was the beginning of their legal troubles. The earlier tales are much better.
Even among the "good" ones, though, I had some problems. Case in point (and the real subject of this post) is "Josh and the Big Wall." I remember singing songs in Protestant Sunday School about Joshua and the battle of Jericho. (I always liked the songs.) Even before becoming Catholic--in fact, dating back to my earliest introduction to Veggie Tales (through an Evangelical Protestant friend of my mom's), I had issues with this one. . . You see, the Veggies are reenacting the Isrealites' flight from Egypt. Moses has just died, and they are able to enter the Promised Land. The creators (of the show) took the phrase "a land flowing with milk & honey" and ran with it. The Isrealite Veggies are singing about all of the decadent things they will eat in the Promised Land--tacos, pintos 'n cheese, waffles; when they get to the city, slushies abound, and are the means of attack on the Isrealites by the people of Jericho.
When we reached a temporary Jim Henson saturation point the other day, I brought out the Silly Song sing-alongs, one of which includes the "Promised Land" song from "Josh and the Big Wall." We haven't really watched Veggie Tales since I became Catholic & we all started attending Mass regularly--except during my son's First Reconciliation "retreat" (or whatever), which featured "God Wants Me to Forgive Them?", slightly modified for church consumption. (It didn't really fit.) So my husband and I were groaning over the "Promised Land" song over the weekend, and it occurred to me that from a Catholic perspective, the following line is particularly grievous:
For years, we've eaten nothing but manna,
A dish that is filling, but bland...
So they put all that behind them in order to pig out in the Promised Land.
Well, the first thing I noticed as a convert, or as one who desired the Eucharist and was moving toward a conversion, were the Eucharistic and Proto-Eucharistic references throughout the Bible--Old Testament and New Testament--which go way beyond the account of the Last Supper. Manna, as God-given bread, is a striking example, and prepared for the Bread of Life: Christ's gift of Himself in the Eucharist. So beyond the fact that the video portrays a serious lack of gratitude for the fact that God has sustained the Isrealites through 40 years in the desert, there is the further disparagement of the heavenly bread that is a promise of the Gift of Christ (in) and the Eucharist.
Now, I am not going to go so far as to say that this was intentional (though if you look closely, the manna does look a bit like hosts). But it is a grave oversight on a couple of levels. Even non-Catholics should have a problem with the fact that the source of the humor is lack of gratitude and greed. Not exactly the values we want to promote. Some might take offense because of the caricature of the Isrealites. I think this is mostly innocent. And it will certainly not stop me from watching Veggie Tales--at least the good ones. But it is a caution to realize that non-denominational, even in the best possible sense, does not necessarily mean Catholic-sensitive. I mean, really--the Eucharist? Bland??
Monday, May 7, 2007
What Kind of Catholic Am I?
O.K., so this isn't too surprising. Actually, it may be surprising to some who are more conservative and traditionalist than I am. But come on. . . You answer a couple of questions about liking Gregorian Chant and suddenly they're assuming that you challenge Vatican II? Clearly, the person who wrote this quiz has been reading too many blogs! ;)
| You scored as Traditional Catholic. You look at the great piety and holiness of the Church before the Second Vatican Council and the decay of belief and practice since then, and see that much of the decline is due to failed reforms based on the "Spirit of the Council". You regret the loss of vast numbers of Religious and Ordained clergy and the widely diverging celebrations of the Mass of Pope Paul VI, which often don't even seem to be Catholic anymore. You are helping to rebuild this past culture in one of the many new Traditional Latin Mass communities or attend Eastern Catholic Divine Liturgy. You seek refuge from the world of pornography, recreational drugs, violence, and materialism. You are an articulate, confident, committed, and intelligent Catholic. But do you support legitimate reform of the Church, and are you willing to submit to the directives of the Second Vatican Council? Will you cooperate responsibly with others who are not part of the Traditional community? http://saint-louis.blogspot.com - Rome of the West
What is your style of American Catholicism? created with QuizFarm.com |
Friday, April 20, 2007
Babies & Baptism
I have been knowing since I took a course on Dante in grad school in '98 that Limbo was not an official Catholic Doctrine. Presumably, some Catholics, the general public, and the Associated Press did not know that. Bound up with my reservations about the Church in general and Baptism in particular was a deep suspicion in a Church that believed that unbaptized babies were excluded from heaven--after all, how could a just & loving God condemn innocents? Especially if some of the more decadent Hebrew Patriarchs were to be retroactively released from Hell? When I did come to accept that Baptism was indeed a Sacrament, not just something you did to prove to your church that you were "Saved" (which was what I had learned from my experiences at the churches I attended as a child--not meaning to offend), the question persisted--what happened to those who remained unbaptized by no fault of their own? I knew what C. S. Lewis said (in The Last Battle), but he was not Catholic (emphatically not, at times). But gradually I saw that there had to be room in God's mercy for innocents and honest truth-seekers, and that the Church in no way contradicted that realization. While awaiting Baptism myself, I was comforted by the idea of "Baptism of Desire," uncertain though that might be (knowing whether I was covered by that provision seemed as vague as knowing whether I was "Saved"). I don't know when I first rationalized that unbaptized babies must be subject to God's mercy, but I am happy to find that I am supported by Pope Benedict XVI.
From Yahoo! News:
VATICAN CITY - . . . . .
"We can say we have many reasons to hope that there is salvation for these babies," the Rev. Luis Ladaria, a Jesuit who is the commission's secretary-general, told The Associated Press.
. . . . .
Although Catholics have long believed that children who die without being baptized are with original sin and thus excluded from heaven, the church has no formal doctrine on the matter. Theologians have long taught, however, that such children enjoy an eternal state of perfect natural happiness, a state commonly called limbo, but without being in communion with God. Pope John Paul II and Benedict had urged further study on limbo, in part because of "the pressing pastoral needs" sparked by the increase in abortion and the growing number of children who die without being baptized, the report said.
From Yahoo! News:
VATICAN CITY - . . . . .
"We can say we have many reasons to hope that there is salvation for these babies," the Rev. Luis Ladaria, a Jesuit who is the commission's secretary-general, told The Associated Press.
. . . . .
Although Catholics have long believed that children who die without being baptized are with original sin and thus excluded from heaven, the church has no formal doctrine on the matter. Theologians have long taught, however, that such children enjoy an eternal state of perfect natural happiness, a state commonly called limbo, but without being in communion with God. Pope John Paul II and Benedict had urged further study on limbo, in part because of "the pressing pastoral needs" sparked by the increase in abortion and the growing number of children who die without being baptized, the report said.
In the document, the commission said there were "serious theological and liturgical grounds for hope that unbaptized infants who die will be saved and brought into eternal happiness."
It stressed, however, that "these are reasons for prayerful hope, rather than grounds for sure knowledge."
Ladaria said no one could know for certain what becomes of unbaptized babies since Scripture is largely silent on the matter.
Catholic parents should still baptize their children, as that sacrament is the way salvation is revealed, the document said.
I like that final phrasing, that "that sacrament is the way salvation is revealed." I particularly like the fact that it does not imply that infant Baptism achieves or guarantees salvation in any way--rather, it establishes a firm foundation for the Christian life of the individual.Wednesday, April 18, 2007
So What Do Good Catholic Women Do?
Though I admit that I am piggybacking off of other blogs I've read, I have been honestly searching for the answer to this question. I get a lot of negatives:
I also get some tentatives (of which that last "don't" might be considered one):
Of course, these are rather bloggy answers, and likely don't reflect the opinions of the majority of Catholic women, for what that's worth. And even my bloggers probably don't agree with all of the negatives or all of the tentatives. Incidently, I am not contesting those of the above that are specific Church teachings, I'm just pointing out the phrasing which suggests a defining of femininity in the negative--that is, we're defined by what we're not (thank you, Irigaray).
I think we all agree that what one does on a day-to-day basis should reflect one's faith. At least, I've heard enough homilies on the subject to know that that's how it should work, ideally. But where we go from there is another question. I have been attacked on a blog for making the tongue-in-cheek comment that I was going to wear pants to Mass--and I do, most of the time. Nice pants, but pants. Now this doesn't mean that I want to be a man, or that I think gender is socially constructed (sorry to my fellow-academics, I just don't find Judith Butler all that convincing--fun to play with, but not convincing!). I'm pretty much a nature & nurture kind of gal. There are some aspects of gender that are tied to biology. However, there are many, many messages that we receive from family and society that condition us to think in terms of what the appropriate roles are for each gender. There is nothing inherently masculine about paying bills, yet men in the early part of the 20th Century took this upon themselves as part of being "breadwinners" (or making sure the wife didn't find out about the mistress or the booze money). There is nothing inherently feminine about doing housework, as my husband can tell you. But how many husbands acknowledge this? In how many households are cooking and cleaning duties shared equitably? I'd like to think an increasing number do share, but I'd need to see some statistical proof. My friend was told by a religion teacher at a Catholic high school that men are not suitable caregivers for their own children because of their sexual proclivities. I'm tempted to think that this is not particularly biological, and represents this person's own tendencies toward deviance. Scary.
And then there's the NFP literature, which tells me more about what women do and do not, should and should not do. It seems, for example, that women do not (or perhaps should not) really want sex. They tolerate it, perhaps even tolerate it willingly, but really they welcome the opportunity to abstain during fertile times so that they are not overwhelmed by their husbands' sex drive. (No, I'm not making this stuff up.) Now, biologically speaking, it is during the fertile time that the female sex drive is highest. That would be why the human species is able to perpetuate itself in spite of all logical objections, but this isn't the Catholic in me speaking, it's the skeptic, so moving right along. . . As for men, they are so lusty that the wife needs to be careful not to wear "that shorty nightgown" that turns him on when they have agreed to space pregnancies, because then she's being a tease. Now, do keep in mind that this stuff was written by a couple now in their 70s. It needs to be updated a bit!
There is a lot of self-sacrifice required of the Catholic woman, as far as I can tell. Much more than is required of the Catholic man. While both are doled equal shares of "talent" (I'm not sure about "time" and "treasure," since these vary greatly from person to person regardless of gender), how she uses hers is dependent to a degree on her fertility. I see this not as a mandate of the Church, but rather, as a cultural determination, depending on the social Catholicism around her. Theoretically, it is possible that if a woman is called to some kind of service, even if married, that this vocation could constitute a valid reason to limit family size. On the other hand, there are plenty of Catholic women who believe in women's ability to have a family and pursue a career, and others who feel that motherhood precludes returning to work. I was raised with the idea that a woman can be a mother and pursue other interests--even outside of the home--without her children suffering. In fact, it was always a matter of pride for me that my mother had the talents that she did. I hope that my children may feel the same about me.
J. R. R. Tolkien has been criticized because his wife had the talent to be a famous concert pianist, but married him and raised his children instead. I don't think he is to blame for this, though social conventions were. Had she had the choice to pursue both, would she have done so? Was it unfair on some level that she was not able to pursue her unique talent?
There is a tendency to restrict women to their single vocation to the exclusion of all else. A man who chooses to work is not restricted from being a father. The religious life is a special case for both sexes, because it is a specific, life-long devotion and dedication of self. But if a woman has talents that may have wider applications than child-rearing, must she channel all of herself into that role? Or should it be acknowledged that she has a lot to offer her children, and a lot to offer others as well?
Well, like all good rhetorical questions, mine imply their own answers. I was amused Easter Sunday by a woman who, when the priest commented that we have overcome the idea, common in Judaism at Jesus's time, that women are subservient, looked at the person next to her with wide-eyed indignation. Her expression was plain, as if to say, "Oh, have we?" Unfortunately, I can see where she may have gotten the impression that we haven't--not necessarily from the Church, but from fellow-Catholics. Or she may be harping on birth control and abortion, which is also possible. I will choose to assume that those issues did not motivate her expression.
So what do good Catholic women do? The same as good Catholic men, while of course, acknowledging their biological differences. I know all about men and women being created different for a reason. I am less clear about what exactly this means, and what the practical implications are. I believe that JPII addressed this at length in one of his works, though it is my understanding that his theorizing is not prescriptive, but allows for conscientious interpretation. Yet so frequently, I am met with the "God-given differences between men and women" in support of a prejudice against some thing that feminists say is O.K., whether it's working or wearing pants or whatever. As far as I can tell, we are called to act in accordance with the teachings of the Church and discern insofar as we are able what God's will is for our lives. For me right now, that means finishing the Ph.D., eventually looking for a job, and raising 3 children (not 2!) as faithfully as possibly!
Now what it means to be a Catholic academic, I haven't figured out yet. . .
- They don't use birth control
- They don't dress immodestly
- They are not priests (and maybe shouldn't be altar servers)
- They don't (or shouldn't) go back to work after having children
I also get some tentatives (of which that last "don't" might be considered one):
- They might (if they're very traditional) cover their heads in church
- They probably have more than one child (when possible)
- They might homeschool (or at least supplement the education their children receive with a hearty complement of orthodoxy)
- They should volunteer in the parish whenever possible, but not to the exclusion of men
Of course, these are rather bloggy answers, and likely don't reflect the opinions of the majority of Catholic women, for what that's worth. And even my bloggers probably don't agree with all of the negatives or all of the tentatives. Incidently, I am not contesting those of the above that are specific Church teachings, I'm just pointing out the phrasing which suggests a defining of femininity in the negative--that is, we're defined by what we're not (thank you, Irigaray).
I think we all agree that what one does on a day-to-day basis should reflect one's faith. At least, I've heard enough homilies on the subject to know that that's how it should work, ideally. But where we go from there is another question. I have been attacked on a blog for making the tongue-in-cheek comment that I was going to wear pants to Mass--and I do, most of the time. Nice pants, but pants. Now this doesn't mean that I want to be a man, or that I think gender is socially constructed (sorry to my fellow-academics, I just don't find Judith Butler all that convincing--fun to play with, but not convincing!). I'm pretty much a nature & nurture kind of gal. There are some aspects of gender that are tied to biology. However, there are many, many messages that we receive from family and society that condition us to think in terms of what the appropriate roles are for each gender. There is nothing inherently masculine about paying bills, yet men in the early part of the 20th Century took this upon themselves as part of being "breadwinners" (or making sure the wife didn't find out about the mistress or the booze money). There is nothing inherently feminine about doing housework, as my husband can tell you. But how many husbands acknowledge this? In how many households are cooking and cleaning duties shared equitably? I'd like to think an increasing number do share, but I'd need to see some statistical proof. My friend was told by a religion teacher at a Catholic high school that men are not suitable caregivers for their own children because of their sexual proclivities. I'm tempted to think that this is not particularly biological, and represents this person's own tendencies toward deviance. Scary.
And then there's the NFP literature, which tells me more about what women do and do not, should and should not do. It seems, for example, that women do not (or perhaps should not) really want sex. They tolerate it, perhaps even tolerate it willingly, but really they welcome the opportunity to abstain during fertile times so that they are not overwhelmed by their husbands' sex drive. (No, I'm not making this stuff up.) Now, biologically speaking, it is during the fertile time that the female sex drive is highest. That would be why the human species is able to perpetuate itself in spite of all logical objections, but this isn't the Catholic in me speaking, it's the skeptic, so moving right along. . . As for men, they are so lusty that the wife needs to be careful not to wear "that shorty nightgown" that turns him on when they have agreed to space pregnancies, because then she's being a tease. Now, do keep in mind that this stuff was written by a couple now in their 70s. It needs to be updated a bit!
There is a lot of self-sacrifice required of the Catholic woman, as far as I can tell. Much more than is required of the Catholic man. While both are doled equal shares of "talent" (I'm not sure about "time" and "treasure," since these vary greatly from person to person regardless of gender), how she uses hers is dependent to a degree on her fertility. I see this not as a mandate of the Church, but rather, as a cultural determination, depending on the social Catholicism around her. Theoretically, it is possible that if a woman is called to some kind of service, even if married, that this vocation could constitute a valid reason to limit family size. On the other hand, there are plenty of Catholic women who believe in women's ability to have a family and pursue a career, and others who feel that motherhood precludes returning to work. I was raised with the idea that a woman can be a mother and pursue other interests--even outside of the home--without her children suffering. In fact, it was always a matter of pride for me that my mother had the talents that she did. I hope that my children may feel the same about me.
J. R. R. Tolkien has been criticized because his wife had the talent to be a famous concert pianist, but married him and raised his children instead. I don't think he is to blame for this, though social conventions were. Had she had the choice to pursue both, would she have done so? Was it unfair on some level that she was not able to pursue her unique talent?
There is a tendency to restrict women to their single vocation to the exclusion of all else. A man who chooses to work is not restricted from being a father. The religious life is a special case for both sexes, because it is a specific, life-long devotion and dedication of self. But if a woman has talents that may have wider applications than child-rearing, must she channel all of herself into that role? Or should it be acknowledged that she has a lot to offer her children, and a lot to offer others as well?
Well, like all good rhetorical questions, mine imply their own answers. I was amused Easter Sunday by a woman who, when the priest commented that we have overcome the idea, common in Judaism at Jesus's time, that women are subservient, looked at the person next to her with wide-eyed indignation. Her expression was plain, as if to say, "Oh, have we?" Unfortunately, I can see where she may have gotten the impression that we haven't--not necessarily from the Church, but from fellow-Catholics. Or she may be harping on birth control and abortion, which is also possible. I will choose to assume that those issues did not motivate her expression.
So what do good Catholic women do? The same as good Catholic men, while of course, acknowledging their biological differences. I know all about men and women being created different for a reason. I am less clear about what exactly this means, and what the practical implications are. I believe that JPII addressed this at length in one of his works, though it is my understanding that his theorizing is not prescriptive, but allows for conscientious interpretation. Yet so frequently, I am met with the "God-given differences between men and women" in support of a prejudice against some thing that feminists say is O.K., whether it's working or wearing pants or whatever. As far as I can tell, we are called to act in accordance with the teachings of the Church and discern insofar as we are able what God's will is for our lives. For me right now, that means finishing the Ph.D., eventually looking for a job, and raising 3 children (not 2!) as faithfully as possibly!
Now what it means to be a Catholic academic, I haven't figured out yet. . .
Thursday, March 22, 2007
Thinking about Leisure
Andrew Greely, in his book The Catholic Imagination, makes the point that Catholics (by which he means cultural Catholics rather than strictly practicing Catholics) have a different concept of time, in particular, of leisure time, than non-Catholics. Basically, Catholics, in unconscious defiance of the Protestant "work ethic," place more value on time away from work than on time working. Not that we don't see value in work, but work is a means to an end--often an end that has to do with the accumulation of time to engage in other activities, be they familial, spiritual, intellectual, whatever. This rings true for me, as it does (I'm sure) for anyone from New Orleans. We don't live to work, we work to live. And many of us try to find the type of work that most closely resembles leisure in which to engage.
Considering that Spring Break just ended for the university at which I teach, and considering that very little of what I did during that week was "leisure" in the strictest definition, it seemed a good time to reflect on these things--or at least, to have the students reflect on these things! So I had them do blogs for the week on Spring Break and leisure. I asked them to consider Spring Break from a non-student perspective, and ask themselves who benefits from Spring Break. On the topic of leisure, I asked them to interpret it creatively. Well, I had to clarify somewhat, and this is how I did so:
Spring Break
By having you reflect on Spring Break, I was trying to induce you to get outside of yourselves a bit. Yeah, Spring Break is a great time to have fun, but do you think for one minute that the university, in gracious recognition of how hard you work, decides that you deserve this time off? Don't bet on it!! The university administration works a lot harder than you do, and puts in regular 40 hour work weeks, yet staff and faculty in administrative positions don't get a full week off. So what? Are they trying to get rid of you for a week? Vacations are great and all, but businesses don't regularly just give their employees a whole week to do with as they choose--so Spring Break clearly isn't a reflection of how life is in the real world. Employees have to "earn" vacation time over a set period of time and then ask permission to be able to take off even a few days, much less a week. So why are you, as college students, so privileged? And what about schools that don't offer Spring Break? Schools that, instead, have quarter systems to squeeze as much classroom time into the shortest number of months? Do they value education more than those schools that do have a Spring Break? Basically, who is Spring Break benefiting--besides the students? Because I can't imagine that the universities believe that you work too hard or that you can't get enough time to do what you want in the semester and you need a whole week to party. After all, what are Thursdays through Saturdays or Sundays for??
leisure time
This question was intentionally vague, but I believe it may have been
too vague. To answer that leisure time is time to relax is like
saying that recreational activities are things that people do to have
fun. The only possible response is. . . Um. . . yeah. Of course. So
let's get beyond that a bit. Things I'm interested in hearing about are:
* who has leisure?
* are some people deprived of leisure?
* does everyone deserve leisure?
* does everyone need leisure?
* is leisure a right?
* do all people WANT leisure? (regardless of whether they need
it or not)
* are there right and wrong ways to use leisure?
* are we as a society supportive of leisure?
* is too much leisure a bad thing?
* do we take leisure for granted?
* I think Ben Franklin may have been the one to say "idle hands
are the devil's workshop"--what does that say about leisure? are
there people who still believe this, and if so, in what contexts?
I'm hoping that this will get them to probe a little more deeply into both of these questions. Of course, there are arguments implicit in my questions. And clearly I can be a bit of a hard ass sometimes. . . (Pardon the expression)
Considering that Spring Break just ended for the university at which I teach, and considering that very little of what I did during that week was "leisure" in the strictest definition, it seemed a good time to reflect on these things--or at least, to have the students reflect on these things! So I had them do blogs for the week on Spring Break and leisure. I asked them to consider Spring Break from a non-student perspective, and ask themselves who benefits from Spring Break. On the topic of leisure, I asked them to interpret it creatively. Well, I had to clarify somewhat, and this is how I did so:
Spring Break
By having you reflect on Spring Break, I was trying to induce you to get outside of yourselves a bit. Yeah, Spring Break is a great time to have fun, but do you think for one minute that the university, in gracious recognition of how hard you work, decides that you deserve this time off? Don't bet on it!! The university administration works a lot harder than you do, and puts in regular 40 hour work weeks, yet staff and faculty in administrative positions don't get a full week off. So what? Are they trying to get rid of you for a week? Vacations are great and all, but businesses don't regularly just give their employees a whole week to do with as they choose--so Spring Break clearly isn't a reflection of how life is in the real world. Employees have to "earn" vacation time over a set period of time and then ask permission to be able to take off even a few days, much less a week. So why are you, as college students, so privileged? And what about schools that don't offer Spring Break? Schools that, instead, have quarter systems to squeeze as much classroom time into the shortest number of months? Do they value education more than those schools that do have a Spring Break? Basically, who is Spring Break benefiting--besides the students? Because I can't imagine that the universities believe that you work too hard or that you can't get enough time to do what you want in the semester and you need a whole week to party. After all, what are Thursdays through Saturdays or Sundays for??
leisure time
This question was intentionally vague, but I believe it may have been
too vague. To answer that leisure time is time to relax is like
saying that recreational activities are things that people do to have
fun. The only possible response is. . . Um. . . yeah. Of course. So
let's get beyond that a bit. Things I'm interested in hearing about are:
* who has leisure?
* are some people deprived of leisure?
* does everyone deserve leisure?
* does everyone need leisure?
* is leisure a right?
* do all people WANT leisure? (regardless of whether they need
it or not)
* are there right and wrong ways to use leisure?
* are we as a society supportive of leisure?
* is too much leisure a bad thing?
* do we take leisure for granted?
* I think Ben Franklin may have been the one to say "idle hands
are the devil's workshop"--what does that say about leisure? are
there people who still believe this, and if so, in what contexts?
I'm hoping that this will get them to probe a little more deeply into both of these questions. Of course, there are arguments implicit in my questions. And clearly I can be a bit of a hard ass sometimes. . . (Pardon the expression)
Tuesday, March 6, 2007
Pregnancy Anxieties, part 1
At the time that I wrote my two blogs about Catholic moms, careers, and unplanned pregnancies, I had a strong suspicion that I was pregnant with my third child. Turns out, I am. If you know me in the world outside the blog, please don't mention it just yet, as I am not quite ready for the news to go public (especially since my first doctor's appointment isn't until April 2, and I'm always rather afraid of something bad happening in the meantime). Also, pleeeeease don't make with the Catholic jokes until later. I can't really handle them right now. You can save them for the series of posts I'm planning: one in which I ask for people to say happy, excited, cheerful things; one in which I ask for people to tell me all of the obnoxious things that people tell to women who are pregnant--especially who are pregnant again, too soon, and then perhaps one that asks about Catholic large family jokes or even perhaps blessings. I need all of the blessings I can get!
You see, I really wasn't ready. I thought I would perhaps wait until my daughter was 4 or 5--after all, her brother was about to turn 9 when she was born. I wanted to determine how her very strong little personality would develop for a while, and I feared that she would be a "middle child"--the attention-seeker who feels persecuted by his/her siblings and parents. I did not want this for her. She has a sweet disposition, but has entered the most frustrating age!! I remember being frustrated with her brother at this age, and the frustration didn't lessen until he was 4 or 5, though the later frustration was perhaps a symptom of his ability to communicate rather than the inability, which is what we are facing now. She is very needy, and wants my (usually) or my husband's (frequently) attention most of the time. Brother is a big help, but it is a real challenge to keep her happy these days. I also need to investigate the possibility that she has recurrent urinary tract infections, a fear with which the doctor poisoned my mind when she had a UTI at about 9 months. The "asserting her will" phase is further complicated by the fact that my house is NOT baby proof--not even remotely baby proof--not baby proof in any sense of the word. So all is not well in toddler-land.
I worry that no one will be excited for me. That I will be greeted with pity, which, I believe, has already happened. That I will be regarded as foolish. That those who express joy will harbor a secret pleasure in seeing me humbled. I did not have a baby shower with my daughter on purpose, because I didn't know who would come anyway, and it was never custom in New Orleans to have a baby shower for a second pregnancy. But for this one, I feel like I might like one. This might be because a baby shower forces people to at least pretend to be happy for the pregnant mother. I was most insistent that I receive a baby shower for my son, also unplanned, but more so, and so dreadfully afraid (with reason) that no one would step forward to give it that I organized it myself, for the most part. Perhaps I felt confident enough in myself not to need other people being happy for me with my daughter--they were already, and it didn't necessarily matter, because I was happy.
Which perhaps brings me to the real cause for my anxiety over what others will say. Anyone who knows me will know that I rarely care for other's opinions. Except that I feel, in spite of the fact that I am happily married, a deep sense of embarrassment and shame. Because, as I mentioned before, intelligent, mature women don't have accidents. I don't really believe that, but that is what feminism would have us believe, isn't it? And regardless of the issues I have with feminism, it's hard to eject the poison from our consciousnesses. The Catholic arguments aren't really working for me, because as a self-styled intellectual and a long-time skeptic, I have deep reservations about doing, feeling, or thinking something because a religion tells you to do so. Conversion or no conversion, I can't purge something so closely embedded in the fiber of my being--or at least I haven't been able to do so yet. This is a point that was not helped by the homily I heard on Sunday, in which the priest discussed ecumenism. He mentioned that while we believe that the Catholic Church holds within itself all of the necessary elements of salvation, that we share with other denominations some of the elements necessary for salvation. While his point was that we can enter dialogue through this common ground, it rather sounded like, if you can't be Catholic, other options can lead you to salvation also. While this is the grounds according to which Catholics recognize the potential for those outside of the Church to achieve Salvation (an idea my mother was not taught in parochial schools), it is not necessarily something that one wants to banter about to Catholics who are feeling discouraged. And as if to illustrate the point, I saw someone in my department yesterday whom I know to have been ordained a Catholic priest. He left the clergy, married, and is now an Episcopalian priest (and a conservative one, from all accounts). So instead of regarding him and wondering the reason for his decision, albeit a difficult decision, this homily allowed me to see the rationale according to which he must have acted, making the choice for the love of his now-wife that he felt, from the weakness of our common human condition, to be necessary at the time. There is, of course, more to the theology issues, but I will leave them for now. . . perhaps forever.
I worry about being a bad parent, particularly to this new one. I have high standards for everyone, but my highest standards I reserve for myself. If I am frustrated with my beautiful little girl right now, how much more will I brush her aside to care for a new one? I don't know how my mother did it. Especially without any support from her husband. And already I am making compromises in my high ideals in anticipation of the new arrival. It was a matter of pride for me to wait until delivery to find the sex of my first two. I am now considering finding out in advance, simply to make it easier on myself--not to enhance the excitement, but to know whether I need to assess the situation with boy clothes, or if I can rest assured that I have things covered with clothes from my daughter. My son and daughter never did take bottles. I now feel that I will probably pump and give the new baby at least one bottle a day. I can not decide whether I am compromising my beliefs about child rearing because I am not mentally or emotionally prepared for this baby, or if I am simply being practical, given the fact that I still need to complete a degree while caring for a toddler and an infant.
And of course, I worry about finances. My husband is woefully underemployed given his education and talents, and has settled for his present position in support of my academic pursuits. My financial aid is exhausted, and I'm not sure I will qualify for alternative loans next academic year. I'm not even going to address bills, but while we have made significant progress on the credit card-type debt over the past 4-5 years, student loans and car notes (of which we have 2, though only one car) pose significant problems. We will be moving into a better school district, which brings additional expense, and would like to get a 2-bedroom, though with a baby on the way, a 3-bedroom would be more legal, if less practical in terms of layout (and price!!). A good friend who will shortly be giving birth herself has told me of a Mexican proverb that a baby is born "with a loaf of bread under its arm." This could be taken more or less literally, assuming that the family situation will work itself out, or that, specifically, families find ways of making things work financially in order to support a new baby. I believe both of these things to a degree, though I must confess to a weakness of faith with regards to God's intervention in financial difficulties. It has just never been something I believed--that God intervenes in financial matters, perhaps because of the emphasis in the Bible on relinquishing one's material possessions.
I have always felt that a baby is indeed a blessing, and precious, and that babies are a joy, and help people to cope with situations in positive ways, so I know things are going to work out somehow. I also maintain the belief, expressed elsewhere, that motherhood does not restrict the mother to the home, and that, in particular, an academic profession and parenting are perfectly compatible. But I know I have significant challenges before me, and I can use all of the prayers and encouragement that you have to offer.
You see, I really wasn't ready. I thought I would perhaps wait until my daughter was 4 or 5--after all, her brother was about to turn 9 when she was born. I wanted to determine how her very strong little personality would develop for a while, and I feared that she would be a "middle child"--the attention-seeker who feels persecuted by his/her siblings and parents. I did not want this for her. She has a sweet disposition, but has entered the most frustrating age!! I remember being frustrated with her brother at this age, and the frustration didn't lessen until he was 4 or 5, though the later frustration was perhaps a symptom of his ability to communicate rather than the inability, which is what we are facing now. She is very needy, and wants my (usually) or my husband's (frequently) attention most of the time. Brother is a big help, but it is a real challenge to keep her happy these days. I also need to investigate the possibility that she has recurrent urinary tract infections, a fear with which the doctor poisoned my mind when she had a UTI at about 9 months. The "asserting her will" phase is further complicated by the fact that my house is NOT baby proof--not even remotely baby proof--not baby proof in any sense of the word. So all is not well in toddler-land.
I worry that no one will be excited for me. That I will be greeted with pity, which, I believe, has already happened. That I will be regarded as foolish. That those who express joy will harbor a secret pleasure in seeing me humbled. I did not have a baby shower with my daughter on purpose, because I didn't know who would come anyway, and it was never custom in New Orleans to have a baby shower for a second pregnancy. But for this one, I feel like I might like one. This might be because a baby shower forces people to at least pretend to be happy for the pregnant mother. I was most insistent that I receive a baby shower for my son, also unplanned, but more so, and so dreadfully afraid (with reason) that no one would step forward to give it that I organized it myself, for the most part. Perhaps I felt confident enough in myself not to need other people being happy for me with my daughter--they were already, and it didn't necessarily matter, because I was happy.
Which perhaps brings me to the real cause for my anxiety over what others will say. Anyone who knows me will know that I rarely care for other's opinions. Except that I feel, in spite of the fact that I am happily married, a deep sense of embarrassment and shame. Because, as I mentioned before, intelligent, mature women don't have accidents. I don't really believe that, but that is what feminism would have us believe, isn't it? And regardless of the issues I have with feminism, it's hard to eject the poison from our consciousnesses. The Catholic arguments aren't really working for me, because as a self-styled intellectual and a long-time skeptic, I have deep reservations about doing, feeling, or thinking something because a religion tells you to do so. Conversion or no conversion, I can't purge something so closely embedded in the fiber of my being--or at least I haven't been able to do so yet. This is a point that was not helped by the homily I heard on Sunday, in which the priest discussed ecumenism. He mentioned that while we believe that the Catholic Church holds within itself all of the necessary elements of salvation, that we share with other denominations some of the elements necessary for salvation. While his point was that we can enter dialogue through this common ground, it rather sounded like, if you can't be Catholic, other options can lead you to salvation also. While this is the grounds according to which Catholics recognize the potential for those outside of the Church to achieve Salvation (an idea my mother was not taught in parochial schools), it is not necessarily something that one wants to banter about to Catholics who are feeling discouraged. And as if to illustrate the point, I saw someone in my department yesterday whom I know to have been ordained a Catholic priest. He left the clergy, married, and is now an Episcopalian priest (and a conservative one, from all accounts). So instead of regarding him and wondering the reason for his decision, albeit a difficult decision, this homily allowed me to see the rationale according to which he must have acted, making the choice for the love of his now-wife that he felt, from the weakness of our common human condition, to be necessary at the time. There is, of course, more to the theology issues, but I will leave them for now. . . perhaps forever.
I worry about being a bad parent, particularly to this new one. I have high standards for everyone, but my highest standards I reserve for myself. If I am frustrated with my beautiful little girl right now, how much more will I brush her aside to care for a new one? I don't know how my mother did it. Especially without any support from her husband. And already I am making compromises in my high ideals in anticipation of the new arrival. It was a matter of pride for me to wait until delivery to find the sex of my first two. I am now considering finding out in advance, simply to make it easier on myself--not to enhance the excitement, but to know whether I need to assess the situation with boy clothes, or if I can rest assured that I have things covered with clothes from my daughter. My son and daughter never did take bottles. I now feel that I will probably pump and give the new baby at least one bottle a day. I can not decide whether I am compromising my beliefs about child rearing because I am not mentally or emotionally prepared for this baby, or if I am simply being practical, given the fact that I still need to complete a degree while caring for a toddler and an infant.
And of course, I worry about finances. My husband is woefully underemployed given his education and talents, and has settled for his present position in support of my academic pursuits. My financial aid is exhausted, and I'm not sure I will qualify for alternative loans next academic year. I'm not even going to address bills, but while we have made significant progress on the credit card-type debt over the past 4-5 years, student loans and car notes (of which we have 2, though only one car) pose significant problems. We will be moving into a better school district, which brings additional expense, and would like to get a 2-bedroom, though with a baby on the way, a 3-bedroom would be more legal, if less practical in terms of layout (and price!!). A good friend who will shortly be giving birth herself has told me of a Mexican proverb that a baby is born "with a loaf of bread under its arm." This could be taken more or less literally, assuming that the family situation will work itself out, or that, specifically, families find ways of making things work financially in order to support a new baby. I believe both of these things to a degree, though I must confess to a weakness of faith with regards to God's intervention in financial difficulties. It has just never been something I believed--that God intervenes in financial matters, perhaps because of the emphasis in the Bible on relinquishing one's material possessions.
I have always felt that a baby is indeed a blessing, and precious, and that babies are a joy, and help people to cope with situations in positive ways, so I know things are going to work out somehow. I also maintain the belief, expressed elsewhere, that motherhood does not restrict the mother to the home, and that, in particular, an academic profession and parenting are perfectly compatible. But I know I have significant challenges before me, and I can use all of the prayers and encouragement that you have to offer.
Wednesday, February 28, 2007
To Clarify. . . -or- The Angry Momma Post
My last post was intended primarily to raise a couple of issues: that when a married Catholic female decides to "live her marriage," as it's called, according to Church teaching, there is the possibility of unplanned pregnancies, whether because of miscalculation, lack of self-control, liquor, whatever. In the event of an unplanned pregnancy, particularly one that is "too soon" if you will, the intellectual class will wonder, particularly if she is in their midst, why she allowed this to happen to her. While it is true that certain professions are less supportive of frequent procreation than others, this was not the primary motivating factor behind my post. The reason my question of whether married Catholic women belong in the workplace was rhetorical, and the reason I clarified that I thought that married Catholic women do indeed belong in the workplace, is that I anticipated being told that when God blesses one with children, it is one's duty to stay home. I didn't really want to get into that. My real question was, how does one deal with the inevitable sneers in the event of an "oops" (or blessing)? Does one ignore and rest secure in the knowledge that one is doing God's will, and if so, how does this enter casual conversation? Does one try to raise consciousness and assert that children are not incompatible with careers? What I am hearing instead might run something like this. . .
HEADLINE: "GOD PLAYS DIRTY TRICK ON CATHOLIC WOMEN"
After allowing her to pursue her interests and develop intellectually for the better part of two decades, in the hope that she can make a livable wage using her God-given talents, God decides that the archetypal Catholic woman is not meant to pursue that path anyway, and instead blesses her with a large family. Unfortunately, her husband, in order to support her efforts, has been working in a job that is insufficient to support the large family economically rather than searching all over the country to find a livable wage for the large family that they didn't know they were going to have. Obviously, this is her fault for not being aware of her calling before she entered graduate school.
As one friend was told (jokingly, I assume) by her husband, she's just going to have to take this one up with God.
Gotta tell you, friends, if I really thought that this was the essence of Church teaching on the role of women in the family, I would probably have been a deathbed convert. As it stands, I do not believe that unplanned pregnancies are a signal to change vocation.
But what if they were? There is a definitive test for the vocation of motherhood. When you look at the little stick and see two lines instead of one, it means that God wants you to undertake the vocation of motherhood. It's a pretty easy sign to read, especially when you consider that there are digital ones nowadays that say "pregnant" or "not pregnant" instead of leaving it up to the women to interpret a "+" or "-" or the single- or double-lines. So that's good, no mystery there.
But what about you single women? I don't think a litmus test has been invented yet that you put on your tongue and it says "career path," "religious life," "marriage and kids in your future." God's calling may show itself a lot more subtly in your lives than in ours, I think. And when the time comes, you may not want to choose "either-or," but both. I, for one, believe that God made us capable of serving him in multiple ways, even within one person's lifetime.
HEADLINE: "GOD PLAYS DIRTY TRICK ON CATHOLIC WOMEN"
After allowing her to pursue her interests and develop intellectually for the better part of two decades, in the hope that she can make a livable wage using her God-given talents, God decides that the archetypal Catholic woman is not meant to pursue that path anyway, and instead blesses her with a large family. Unfortunately, her husband, in order to support her efforts, has been working in a job that is insufficient to support the large family economically rather than searching all over the country to find a livable wage for the large family that they didn't know they were going to have. Obviously, this is her fault for not being aware of her calling before she entered graduate school.
As one friend was told (jokingly, I assume) by her husband, she's just going to have to take this one up with God.
Gotta tell you, friends, if I really thought that this was the essence of Church teaching on the role of women in the family, I would probably have been a deathbed convert. As it stands, I do not believe that unplanned pregnancies are a signal to change vocation.
But what if they were? There is a definitive test for the vocation of motherhood. When you look at the little stick and see two lines instead of one, it means that God wants you to undertake the vocation of motherhood. It's a pretty easy sign to read, especially when you consider that there are digital ones nowadays that say "pregnant" or "not pregnant" instead of leaving it up to the women to interpret a "+" or "-" or the single- or double-lines. So that's good, no mystery there.
But what about you single women? I don't think a litmus test has been invented yet that you put on your tongue and it says "career path," "religious life," "marriage and kids in your future." God's calling may show itself a lot more subtly in your lives than in ours, I think. And when the time comes, you may not want to choose "either-or," but both. I, for one, believe that God made us capable of serving him in multiple ways, even within one person's lifetime.
Sunday, February 25, 2007
"It's Just a Catholic Thing" (?) in the Professions
A few months after my daughter (now 16 months) was born, I had her with me in my department, likely for a meeting with my dissertation adviser. A professor whom I had never met saw me, and, being an outgoing, friendly type, he proceeded to tell me about his daughter who was expecting, to tell me that two children is sufficient because that's one for each knee, and a number of other things that I have now forgotten. He asked me if I had any other children, and, as I responded affirmatively, he asked slyly, "They're not Irish twins, are they?" Now, I thought cluelessly, my husband is part Irish, but I'm not. Obviously, I had no idea what Irish twins are. Asked to explain, he informed me that Irish twins were siblings born within one year--which, of course, would be unlikely given the likelihood that impoverished Irish Catholics (he wasn't talking about Orangemen, after all) would be breastfed. A few minutes later, he repeated the joke for the benefit of my officemate, herself raised Catholic, and we agreed with good-natured disapproval that this was a thinly-veiled Catholic joke.
The joke evokes nineteenth-century immigrants with families of 5-12 children, overworked women, shabby brown clothing, tenement housing, clothes lines--you get the picture. So my question is, how do contemporary intellectual Catholic women deal with such a situation? Over the past couple of years, I have had at least three friends ask themselves this question in one way or another. All were working, one a Ph.D. student. Two were using NFP and one not. In these situations, "oops-s" or "what the heck" moments inevitably happen. So then what? One friend had been married for long enough that she could easily pass it off as "we've been trying" or "we were ready," or whatever. One friend decided that since she had been married for less than a year and people had just given her presents, she would ask not to have a baby shower.
This question comes to mind for a couple of reasons. First, well, people ask the most audacious questions! When I was pregnant last, the father of one of my son's friends from school saw us in Target, expressed surprise, and asked, "Were you trying, or was this a surprise?" One of the aforementioned friends remarked, as we discussed similar such remarks, "Do they realize that they're asking you whether you're having sex?"
O.K., so people are nosey. But it goes beyond that. In certain circles, it is just the unspoken rule that you should space your children according to your career goals. Hence, one female professor mentioning that her youngest was her "tenure baby," though it was unclear if he was the result of the celebrating, or her award for accomplishing the task! Within a year of my entering the M.A. program, one of my professors had her "last chance" baby, and two months after I had my daughter, my almost-adviser had her post-tenure baby. Others waited--and advised their grad students to wait--not until tenure, but until getting the tenure-track job. Recently, the female grad students in the department have decided that A.B.D. is a convenient time to have children, a decision I support wholeheartedly, obviously! But there is still somewhat of an unspoken consensus that children are to be spaced rather further apart that one to two years. While my "spacing"--a new baby with a 7-year-old--drew attention from a school dad (also a professional, incidently, but a professional father), spacing children every two years (considered ideal by those who are actively growing their families) is a professional faux pas. So what about Catholic professional/academic mothers?
Some, of course, believe that these terms are contradictory, and I could point you to the blogs to prove it. My friend who works at a Catholic high school has been condescendingly treated to the casual assumption that she would not be returning to work--EVER--by her colleagues for the last several months. But the role of Catholic women in the family is not my purpose for this post. Rather, I am embarrassed to admit that popular opinion is my concern.
Morality and Church teaching aside (though very much bound up with this post, as I hope is obvious), "accidents" are for teenagers, low-income households, minorities, and Catholics? All of these are stereotypes, but stereotypes which the average enlightened intellectual holds in the deep recesses of her politically correct heart. Just look at Amanda Marcotte.
This begs the question. . . Do married Catholic women really not belong in the workplace? This question is rhetorical. I do not expect an answer. Rather I am using the question to imply its answer--that of course married Catholic women belong in the workplace, if they so choose! So then, what about the "oops" factor? NFP "works," but people have different levels of resistance, and error and the Will of God are always factors! ;) Perhaps married Catholic females belong in the workplace to enlighten the masses, and should cling to the beatitudes for encouragement: that those who suffer mockery in the name of holiness will have their reward. But if asked, "You're pregnant again?" that's hardly an answer that will satisfy the average enlightened intellectual, provided the discussion occurs openly rather than in a series of sneers and snickers (yes, I am hard on my fellow academics). I have even encountered resistance to the motherhood-academic combination in Catholic academic circles (circles formed to discuss the intersection of faith and professional life!), so how much more should secular academics resist the Catholic academic's attempt to live her marriage faithfully, understanding its possible consequences (blessings)?
Large families and accidents--Catholic stereotypes both. Neither FEMLA, nor tenure procedures, nor enlightened liberalism allows for those realities. I don't know the answer, and I hate a cliff-hanger post. I further hate admitting that the sneering disturbs me. But it does. So while married professional women wait to reproduce until they reach their goals, what does the Catholic woman do? Stay home? Or not marry until after tenure/promotion?
The joke evokes nineteenth-century immigrants with families of 5-12 children, overworked women, shabby brown clothing, tenement housing, clothes lines--you get the picture. So my question is, how do contemporary intellectual Catholic women deal with such a situation? Over the past couple of years, I have had at least three friends ask themselves this question in one way or another. All were working, one a Ph.D. student. Two were using NFP and one not. In these situations, "oops-s" or "what the heck" moments inevitably happen. So then what? One friend had been married for long enough that she could easily pass it off as "we've been trying" or "we were ready," or whatever. One friend decided that since she had been married for less than a year and people had just given her presents, she would ask not to have a baby shower.
This question comes to mind for a couple of reasons. First, well, people ask the most audacious questions! When I was pregnant last, the father of one of my son's friends from school saw us in Target, expressed surprise, and asked, "Were you trying, or was this a surprise?" One of the aforementioned friends remarked, as we discussed similar such remarks, "Do they realize that they're asking you whether you're having sex?"
O.K., so people are nosey. But it goes beyond that. In certain circles, it is just the unspoken rule that you should space your children according to your career goals. Hence, one female professor mentioning that her youngest was her "tenure baby," though it was unclear if he was the result of the celebrating, or her award for accomplishing the task! Within a year of my entering the M.A. program, one of my professors had her "last chance" baby, and two months after I had my daughter, my almost-adviser had her post-tenure baby. Others waited--and advised their grad students to wait--not until tenure, but until getting the tenure-track job. Recently, the female grad students in the department have decided that A.B.D. is a convenient time to have children, a decision I support wholeheartedly, obviously! But there is still somewhat of an unspoken consensus that children are to be spaced rather further apart that one to two years. While my "spacing"--a new baby with a 7-year-old--drew attention from a school dad (also a professional, incidently, but a professional father), spacing children every two years (considered ideal by those who are actively growing their families) is a professional faux pas. So what about Catholic professional/academic mothers?
Some, of course, believe that these terms are contradictory, and I could point you to the blogs to prove it. My friend who works at a Catholic high school has been condescendingly treated to the casual assumption that she would not be returning to work--EVER--by her colleagues for the last several months. But the role of Catholic women in the family is not my purpose for this post. Rather, I am embarrassed to admit that popular opinion is my concern.
Morality and Church teaching aside (though very much bound up with this post, as I hope is obvious), "accidents" are for teenagers, low-income households, minorities, and Catholics? All of these are stereotypes, but stereotypes which the average enlightened intellectual holds in the deep recesses of her politically correct heart. Just look at Amanda Marcotte.
This begs the question. . . Do married Catholic women really not belong in the workplace? This question is rhetorical. I do not expect an answer. Rather I am using the question to imply its answer--that of course married Catholic women belong in the workplace, if they so choose! So then, what about the "oops" factor? NFP "works," but people have different levels of resistance, and error and the Will of God are always factors! ;) Perhaps married Catholic females belong in the workplace to enlighten the masses, and should cling to the beatitudes for encouragement: that those who suffer mockery in the name of holiness will have their reward. But if asked, "You're pregnant again?" that's hardly an answer that will satisfy the average enlightened intellectual, provided the discussion occurs openly rather than in a series of sneers and snickers (yes, I am hard on my fellow academics). I have even encountered resistance to the motherhood-academic combination in Catholic academic circles (circles formed to discuss the intersection of faith and professional life!), so how much more should secular academics resist the Catholic academic's attempt to live her marriage faithfully, understanding its possible consequences (blessings)?
Large families and accidents--Catholic stereotypes both. Neither FEMLA, nor tenure procedures, nor enlightened liberalism allows for those realities. I don't know the answer, and I hate a cliff-hanger post. I further hate admitting that the sneering disturbs me. But it does. So while married professional women wait to reproduce until they reach their goals, what does the Catholic woman do? Stay home? Or not marry until after tenure/promotion?
Sunday, February 11, 2007
Sometimes I hate this
What is it about blogs that draw me in? I think I will be taking a break for a while. I've been composing an entry that I call "Skirting the Issue" about people who narrowly define what is "feminine." It is in response to this post and, to a lesser degree, this post, which includes the following comment from a reader:
It's important to also remember that the Tridentine does not allow disruptions such as the laity hand-shake/kissy face/hugging fiesta, nor does it have the holding hands Protestant innovation during the Our Father, no musical instruments other than the Organ, only sacred music or Gregorian chant and polyphony; no women on the altar, kneeling reverently to receive Blessed Sacrament only on the tongue, no talking in Church, only reverent dress, no slacks for women, etc. (emphasis mine)
I have become caught up with thinking about the issue of traditionalizing femininity, especially in a Catholic context, and I am frustrated that, for one thing, so many of the blogs I am reading voice this opinion in one way or the other. I have become inarticulate about the matter. Luckily I know that the Church in no way endorses the attitudes that these bloggers/serial commenters represent. Rather, they are viewing the theology narrowly, for their own ends, and defending/asserting their claims with narrow-minded arguments and persuasive techniques (the type I teach my Freshman to analyze, then to avoid). This is not my last word on the matter, but I don't want to spend the time and effort on the response right now, as I am tired from a long weekend of caring for a sick baby, and I don't think my blood pressure can stand the stress. What I object to most are the personal attacks and misrepresentation--after all, if I disagree slightly, I am the enemy--emblem of all they are fighting against. This has ceased to be fun for me right now.
It's important to also remember that the Tridentine does not allow disruptions such as the laity hand-shake/kissy face/hugging fiesta, nor does it have the holding hands Protestant innovation during the Our Father, no musical instruments other than the Organ, only sacred music or Gregorian chant and polyphony; no women on the altar, kneeling reverently to receive Blessed Sacrament only on the tongue, no talking in Church, only reverent dress, no slacks for women, etc. (emphasis mine)
I have become caught up with thinking about the issue of traditionalizing femininity, especially in a Catholic context, and I am frustrated that, for one thing, so many of the blogs I am reading voice this opinion in one way or the other. I have become inarticulate about the matter. Luckily I know that the Church in no way endorses the attitudes that these bloggers/serial commenters represent. Rather, they are viewing the theology narrowly, for their own ends, and defending/asserting their claims with narrow-minded arguments and persuasive techniques (the type I teach my Freshman to analyze, then to avoid). This is not my last word on the matter, but I don't want to spend the time and effort on the response right now, as I am tired from a long weekend of caring for a sick baby, and I don't think my blood pressure can stand the stress. What I object to most are the personal attacks and misrepresentation--after all, if I disagree slightly, I am the enemy--emblem of all they are fighting against. This has ceased to be fun for me right now.
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