Courtesy of the weirdest darned Catholic blog that I ever stumbled across but can't bring myself to read unless someone else points me there because I'm afraid it might make my head explode if I read it on a regular basis. Really. I mean, look at that sentence (and don't ask my dissertation director if there are precedents). But given my recent questions & answers on friendship, I felt I needed to post this link.
UPDATE: Yeah, this was a hoax. I was being tacky. ;) The comments are particularly bad on this one. I was serious about my head exploding though, if one can say such a thing seriously. And I found it funny that Melanie pointed out on the site that the post was not original--and was not credited as such!! Sorry, Melanie, I should have indicated more clearly that I was being tacky (besides labeling the post as a "spoof," which might easily have been overlooked.)
UPDATE: Well, apparently in the midst of the mutual admiration society on the blog linked to above, there was an update acknowledging the source, and I am now to feel remorse for my above update. So I am sorry, and I no longer find it funny that Melanie pointed out on the site that the post was not original--and was not credited as such. Or, well, I think that's what I'm supposed to be sorry for. . .
Showing posts with label friendship. Show all posts
Showing posts with label friendship. Show all posts
Tuesday, October 9, 2007
Tuesday, September 4, 2007
Something I've got to get off of my chest. . .
It's been bothering me since I started the first "friendship" post. I felt awkward theorizing about friendship and talking about failed friendships when many of the people who read these posts are, indeed, friends to me--albeit virtually. The friendships I had in mind were those formed in school, lasting for a year or more. Theorizing virtual friendships would be an entirely different task--and I think I would have to include in that people whom I know in real life, but whom I have come to know more closely through blogs and email. But, really, that kind of thing is such a new experience (for people in general, and for me in particular)! Anyway, this is my disclaimer! I have had more contact with people who do, indeed, see more or less eye-to-eye with me, and who have more in common on a deeper level online than ever before. But it's such a different experience. . .
I also want to mention that Melanie gave me a lead to follow up for Catholic-specific discussions of friendship in a comment to this post! Thanks!
I also want to mention that Melanie gave me a lead to follow up for Catholic-specific discussions of friendship in a comment to this post! Thanks!
Wednesday, August 29, 2007
Friendship, More or Less Generally Speaking
This post grows out of my previous post on Catholic Friendship, and refers frequently to comments made by others on my post. Actually, it started as a comment, but grew out of control and asserted its need to have its own space. Also, I posted something about my son's school library experience, and didn't want that one to overshadow the friendship discussion, which I have been enjoying!
One thing that has occurred to me is that I posed this in terms of Catholicism in particular. This is because there is so much in scripture and hence, in the homilies, about interpersonal relations. But these references are generally not referring to friendships. Usually, the relations between people that are mentioned are between people who do not know each other. There is also the idea that all earthly relationships should be second to the relationship with God, stated most explicitly in the "leave your family and follow me" passage(s), which I have never heard explained adequately--that is, explained in a way that helped me to actually understand it--in a way that gave me that "aha!" moment. There is a separate theology and discourse of marriage within Catholicism, which lead me to the question of a Catholic theology of friendship.
Separately, I had been thinking about one of Kate's earlier posts, as I explained in my earlier post on friendship, which specifically mentioned forming friendships with Catholic couples specifically, and thinking of the Catholic friends I have or have had, which led also to the formation of this question in terms of Catholicism. I wasn't necessarily thinking only of the good of Catholics seeking friendships with other Catholics, however; I was also thinking of the difficulties. Entropy mentions that even though her husband is not Catholic, they share most if not all (not wanting to misrepresent her characterization!) of their deeply held beliefs about religion. By contrast, it is possible for two Catholics not to share any of their deeply help beliefs--or at any rate, not to be able to express them in a way that promotes mutual understanding. There might be such animosity over certain questions of faith, or such defensiveness, that even when the two agree it feels like disagreement. And yet, the friendship persists, where maybe it shouldn't.
Entropy mentioned how great it was to know so many Catholic bloggers, because it is nice to know that there are people with the same worldview and background. That has been wonderful for me, too! And that feeling, I think, is what we seek when we seek other Catholics (virtually or in "real life") as friends--that commonality of deeply help belief that Mrs. Darwin, Melanie, Kate, and Sarahndipity have all mentioned. I have never really know that before, being a convert whose friends were mostly not Catholic, and whose Catholic friends ranged anywhere from laissez-faire, to Sunday-only, to cafeteria, to sincerely struggling, to complete acceptance without struggling. . . and the descriptions could go on. It's surprising how many Catholics one gets to know even by accident! ;) The great thing, too, is when those virtual friendships come to feel more real than virtual, when those little off-blog exchanges happen, when we actually get to meet each other in person. It's another new experience for me, and I feel like I'm waxing poetic about it. I must be in a good mood. (The library email was somewhat cathartic, and I've been happy since my class last night, which reminded me that I actually do like teaching! I've also been strangely productive lately, probably because I've been blogging less. :( Oh well!) But I have been self-conscious about my post because it seemed to limit the nature of the friendships I was talking about to specifically Catholic, or specifically religious-based friendships. (My post--not the comments!!) I wanted to think about friendship from the perspective of myself as a Catholic first, then (possibly) in terms of Catholics being friends with other Catholics and whether it creates more tensions or more sympathies, but inevitably in terms of friendships more generally.
So I asked a non-blogging but heavy-emailing deacon friend of mine a shorter version of the question I posed initially--whether there is a Catholic theology of friendship. While he had not heard of such a thing, he suggested that the underlying principles should be prayer and forgiveness. The forgiveness part certainly makes sense, though I'm not sure I understand the prayer part. He answered in brief and promised to think more about it, so perhaps I will eventually get him to explain the prayer. Forgiveness is so fundamentally Christian--having particular emphasis in Catholicism, in my opinion--that it is certainly a good basic principle to employ in friendship. However, forgiveness implies that something has already gone wrong. It is also difficult to anticipate how forgiveness will best be achieved or expressed if, indeed, it becomes necessary during the course of the friendship. I found myself, after converting, revisiting in my mind friendships that had ended badly with people from whom I was long estranged, asking myself if I had forgiven them, asking for the grace to forgive them, in some cases, asking for the grace to be able to stop reliving the circumstances of the friendship or breakup of the friendship or whatever. I believe that I had already forgiven some simply because of the distance of time, but that seems too easy; I had not made the conscious effort to acknowledge the forgiveness. But those were not relationships that could be resurrected. It is possible that even if they could have been resurrected, the friendship would not have been worth saving. Or equally possible that, had they continued, the friendship itself would not have allowed for forgiveness in the same way that distance has. I alluded in a comment to my post that some friendships could be "dysfunctional." Even if we consider ourselves friends, behave like friends, care like friends, even care passionately--are there friendships that simply should not continue? Luckily, friendships are not Sacraments, as I've said before, and do not require annulment--we don't have to declare that the friendship was fundamentally flawed from the beginning. . . or is that really what I'm suggesting?
My friend also suggested that if a friendship in some way interferes with one's relationship with God or if it becomes an occasion of sin, one should consider moving on. . . That is an interesting concept. Friendships can be occasions of sin in large ways, I would imagine, inspiring lust, leading one to commit crimes, indulge in excesses; but what about friendships that inspire envy or anger? Of course, these could be looked at as opportunities for improvement. Basically, in the case of a bad friendship, these things can get very, very complicated.
I confess that I have experienced many more bad friendships than good ones. The intense ones tended to be the ones that ended badly--with a need to completely remove oneself from the person. The lukewarm ones simply faded away. There have been some good friendships along the way, people who, should we chance to meet again, would be happy to see me, and with whom I could spend a lot of time "catching up" before fading away again. People with whom I shared some commonalities, though not the deepest, and with whom I probably share very little at this point.
When I think of those deep-but-failed friendships, I can liken them to passionately flawed dating relationships or teenage obsessions. The world revolved around those relationships, but when they were over and sufficient time had passed, I/we/you realized that they were started for the wrong reasons, were woefully lopsided, and doomed to failure, or, if not, to utter misery. There was enough "there" to form a strong attraction, but there was also some great incompatibility.
The idea that Sarahndipity mentions about people with children assuming that other people with children will have commonalities is an interesting case. It is similar (though perhaps only similar on a surface-level) to the "Catholic friend" question, though only in that it is one shared commonality among many possibly commonalities. Also, while one assumes a greater common background among Catholics than among parents of children, both have many possible variations.
Having said this, it is also a new experience for me to have friends who have children. Until recently, I just didn't know many people with children. Being in grad school and having children creates a bond of sorts. In fact, just the experience of giving birth gives women something to talk about who might not be able to stay in the same room with one another otherwise. These are starting points for friendships, but don't necessarily spell success, I guess. It is something I have enjoyed lately, though--the company of other smart moms!!
What is success in friendship, by the way? I've suggested my marriage as a successful friendship, but surely friendship does not need to be held to such a strict standard! Something more to ponder, I guess. . .
Reading Kate's recent blog entry on friendships, which she writes in part a reaction to my original post, I was struck by many things. Thanks, Kate, for such a great post on the topic! When Kate quotes Cicero, I feel as she said she would have felt in high school. Cicero writes:
"Friendship may be defined as a complete identity of feeling about all things in heaven and earth: an identity which is strengthened by mutual goodwill and affection."
And, well, I have not yet met anyone (to whom I am not married) about whom I can say these things. I felt, upon first reading this, that it was an impossible standard. My friendships have been mostly the type that involve stimulating conversation and interest in some aspect of the other person's life--and not much more. I found the following observation of Kate's rather profound:
I discovered that my friendships had bottoms, walls. Stopping points. Places beyond which we did not go. The freedom I had found in friendship – the freedom to enjoy each other, to be unafraid of rejection, to grow alongside one another – the freedom had limits.
And her discussion of her own experiences with friendships is touching and insightful.
At the end of the film The Ghost and Mrs. Muir, the main character says to her daughter that she was simply not meant to have a passionate, loving romantic relationship, and that, really, she hasn't missed it. I wonder if having a passionate, loving marriage is compensation for the lack of other types of friendships? (Or something better than compensation, since it is a deeper bond--indeed, a Sacrament!)
Different personality types have different needs where personal relationships are concerned. Some do need more than one close friend. I'm not sure that any friendship could be as deep or fulfilling as the one I have. And I'm not sure it matters. I like having friends to talk to and who offer different perspectives on the world. I like giving things that others need. But I may go too far--giving too much and being hurt if the other is not "there" for me in a similar way, when not everyone shares the same capacity for emotional support. And we can't expect reciprocity if there is no capacity for reciprocity in the other person. But what about the giving? It seems Christian to give, and yet giving until we hurt without mutual understanding, with different ideas of respect and admiration, with what is essentially self-sacrifice. . . Is that appropriate, even for a Christian friendship? I suppose that may in fact lead both away from God rather than toward.
I've wondered what it says about me as a person that I have not had many close friendships or (any?) lasting friendships. I admit that I am not a particularly trusting person, so that is likely one fault I bring to the formation of friendships. But if, as Kate suggests, ideal friendships are bound by a desire to see one another in heaven (which should probably be the foundation for that "missing" Catholic theology of friendship!!), this has not entered into any of my friendships. It is simply not a habit of thinking that I have had toward anyone until recently, and that I have had it at all was a gift of grace taught to me through my family, and one of my strongest pulls to Catholicism. So if the ultimate friendship is a Christian friendship in more than just the sense that both parties happen to be Christian (or Catholic), I'm simply not there yet. Considering that, as someone said, it is harder to make (close?) friends when one is married (and perhaps even harder when one has children), maybe I won't have that kind of friendship at all. There are lots of nice people I wouldn't mind seeing in heaven, I'm just not sure our paths to holiness intersect! ;)
I'm afraid I have rambled more than is usually advisable in a blog post, but I'm hoping that there are enough tidbits here to initiate some more comments, for which I have been grateful!
One thing that has occurred to me is that I posed this in terms of Catholicism in particular. This is because there is so much in scripture and hence, in the homilies, about interpersonal relations. But these references are generally not referring to friendships. Usually, the relations between people that are mentioned are between people who do not know each other. There is also the idea that all earthly relationships should be second to the relationship with God, stated most explicitly in the "leave your family and follow me" passage(s), which I have never heard explained adequately--that is, explained in a way that helped me to actually understand it--in a way that gave me that "aha!" moment. There is a separate theology and discourse of marriage within Catholicism, which lead me to the question of a Catholic theology of friendship.
Separately, I had been thinking about one of Kate's earlier posts, as I explained in my earlier post on friendship, which specifically mentioned forming friendships with Catholic couples specifically, and thinking of the Catholic friends I have or have had, which led also to the formation of this question in terms of Catholicism. I wasn't necessarily thinking only of the good of Catholics seeking friendships with other Catholics, however; I was also thinking of the difficulties. Entropy mentions that even though her husband is not Catholic, they share most if not all (not wanting to misrepresent her characterization!) of their deeply held beliefs about religion. By contrast, it is possible for two Catholics not to share any of their deeply help beliefs--or at any rate, not to be able to express them in a way that promotes mutual understanding. There might be such animosity over certain questions of faith, or such defensiveness, that even when the two agree it feels like disagreement. And yet, the friendship persists, where maybe it shouldn't.
Entropy mentioned how great it was to know so many Catholic bloggers, because it is nice to know that there are people with the same worldview and background. That has been wonderful for me, too! And that feeling, I think, is what we seek when we seek other Catholics (virtually or in "real life") as friends--that commonality of deeply help belief that Mrs. Darwin, Melanie, Kate, and Sarahndipity have all mentioned. I have never really know that before, being a convert whose friends were mostly not Catholic, and whose Catholic friends ranged anywhere from laissez-faire, to Sunday-only, to cafeteria, to sincerely struggling, to complete acceptance without struggling. . . and the descriptions could go on. It's surprising how many Catholics one gets to know even by accident! ;) The great thing, too, is when those virtual friendships come to feel more real than virtual, when those little off-blog exchanges happen, when we actually get to meet each other in person. It's another new experience for me, and I feel like I'm waxing poetic about it. I must be in a good mood. (The library email was somewhat cathartic, and I've been happy since my class last night, which reminded me that I actually do like teaching! I've also been strangely productive lately, probably because I've been blogging less. :( Oh well!) But I have been self-conscious about my post because it seemed to limit the nature of the friendships I was talking about to specifically Catholic, or specifically religious-based friendships. (My post--not the comments!!) I wanted to think about friendship from the perspective of myself as a Catholic first, then (possibly) in terms of Catholics being friends with other Catholics and whether it creates more tensions or more sympathies, but inevitably in terms of friendships more generally.
So I asked a non-blogging but heavy-emailing deacon friend of mine a shorter version of the question I posed initially--whether there is a Catholic theology of friendship. While he had not heard of such a thing, he suggested that the underlying principles should be prayer and forgiveness. The forgiveness part certainly makes sense, though I'm not sure I understand the prayer part. He answered in brief and promised to think more about it, so perhaps I will eventually get him to explain the prayer. Forgiveness is so fundamentally Christian--having particular emphasis in Catholicism, in my opinion--that it is certainly a good basic principle to employ in friendship. However, forgiveness implies that something has already gone wrong. It is also difficult to anticipate how forgiveness will best be achieved or expressed if, indeed, it becomes necessary during the course of the friendship. I found myself, after converting, revisiting in my mind friendships that had ended badly with people from whom I was long estranged, asking myself if I had forgiven them, asking for the grace to forgive them, in some cases, asking for the grace to be able to stop reliving the circumstances of the friendship or breakup of the friendship or whatever. I believe that I had already forgiven some simply because of the distance of time, but that seems too easy; I had not made the conscious effort to acknowledge the forgiveness. But those were not relationships that could be resurrected. It is possible that even if they could have been resurrected, the friendship would not have been worth saving. Or equally possible that, had they continued, the friendship itself would not have allowed for forgiveness in the same way that distance has. I alluded in a comment to my post that some friendships could be "dysfunctional." Even if we consider ourselves friends, behave like friends, care like friends, even care passionately--are there friendships that simply should not continue? Luckily, friendships are not Sacraments, as I've said before, and do not require annulment--we don't have to declare that the friendship was fundamentally flawed from the beginning. . . or is that really what I'm suggesting?
My friend also suggested that if a friendship in some way interferes with one's relationship with God or if it becomes an occasion of sin, one should consider moving on. . . That is an interesting concept. Friendships can be occasions of sin in large ways, I would imagine, inspiring lust, leading one to commit crimes, indulge in excesses; but what about friendships that inspire envy or anger? Of course, these could be looked at as opportunities for improvement. Basically, in the case of a bad friendship, these things can get very, very complicated.
I confess that I have experienced many more bad friendships than good ones. The intense ones tended to be the ones that ended badly--with a need to completely remove oneself from the person. The lukewarm ones simply faded away. There have been some good friendships along the way, people who, should we chance to meet again, would be happy to see me, and with whom I could spend a lot of time "catching up" before fading away again. People with whom I shared some commonalities, though not the deepest, and with whom I probably share very little at this point.
When I think of those deep-but-failed friendships, I can liken them to passionately flawed dating relationships or teenage obsessions. The world revolved around those relationships, but when they were over and sufficient time had passed, I/we/you realized that they were started for the wrong reasons, were woefully lopsided, and doomed to failure, or, if not, to utter misery. There was enough "there" to form a strong attraction, but there was also some great incompatibility.
The idea that Sarahndipity mentions about people with children assuming that other people with children will have commonalities is an interesting case. It is similar (though perhaps only similar on a surface-level) to the "Catholic friend" question, though only in that it is one shared commonality among many possibly commonalities. Also, while one assumes a greater common background among Catholics than among parents of children, both have many possible variations.
Having said this, it is also a new experience for me to have friends who have children. Until recently, I just didn't know many people with children. Being in grad school and having children creates a bond of sorts. In fact, just the experience of giving birth gives women something to talk about who might not be able to stay in the same room with one another otherwise. These are starting points for friendships, but don't necessarily spell success, I guess. It is something I have enjoyed lately, though--the company of other smart moms!!
What is success in friendship, by the way? I've suggested my marriage as a successful friendship, but surely friendship does not need to be held to such a strict standard! Something more to ponder, I guess. . .
Reading Kate's recent blog entry on friendships, which she writes in part a reaction to my original post, I was struck by many things. Thanks, Kate, for such a great post on the topic! When Kate quotes Cicero, I feel as she said she would have felt in high school. Cicero writes:
"Friendship may be defined as a complete identity of feeling about all things in heaven and earth: an identity which is strengthened by mutual goodwill and affection."
And, well, I have not yet met anyone (to whom I am not married) about whom I can say these things. I felt, upon first reading this, that it was an impossible standard. My friendships have been mostly the type that involve stimulating conversation and interest in some aspect of the other person's life--and not much more. I found the following observation of Kate's rather profound:
I discovered that my friendships had bottoms, walls. Stopping points. Places beyond which we did not go. The freedom I had found in friendship – the freedom to enjoy each other, to be unafraid of rejection, to grow alongside one another – the freedom had limits.
And her discussion of her own experiences with friendships is touching and insightful.
At the end of the film The Ghost and Mrs. Muir, the main character says to her daughter that she was simply not meant to have a passionate, loving romantic relationship, and that, really, she hasn't missed it. I wonder if having a passionate, loving marriage is compensation for the lack of other types of friendships? (Or something better than compensation, since it is a deeper bond--indeed, a Sacrament!)
Different personality types have different needs where personal relationships are concerned. Some do need more than one close friend. I'm not sure that any friendship could be as deep or fulfilling as the one I have. And I'm not sure it matters. I like having friends to talk to and who offer different perspectives on the world. I like giving things that others need. But I may go too far--giving too much and being hurt if the other is not "there" for me in a similar way, when not everyone shares the same capacity for emotional support. And we can't expect reciprocity if there is no capacity for reciprocity in the other person. But what about the giving? It seems Christian to give, and yet giving until we hurt without mutual understanding, with different ideas of respect and admiration, with what is essentially self-sacrifice. . . Is that appropriate, even for a Christian friendship? I suppose that may in fact lead both away from God rather than toward.
I've wondered what it says about me as a person that I have not had many close friendships or (any?) lasting friendships. I admit that I am not a particularly trusting person, so that is likely one fault I bring to the formation of friendships. But if, as Kate suggests, ideal friendships are bound by a desire to see one another in heaven (which should probably be the foundation for that "missing" Catholic theology of friendship!!), this has not entered into any of my friendships. It is simply not a habit of thinking that I have had toward anyone until recently, and that I have had it at all was a gift of grace taught to me through my family, and one of my strongest pulls to Catholicism. So if the ultimate friendship is a Christian friendship in more than just the sense that both parties happen to be Christian (or Catholic), I'm simply not there yet. Considering that, as someone said, it is harder to make (close?) friends when one is married (and perhaps even harder when one has children), maybe I won't have that kind of friendship at all. There are lots of nice people I wouldn't mind seeing in heaven, I'm just not sure our paths to holiness intersect! ;)
I'm afraid I have rambled more than is usually advisable in a blog post, but I'm hoping that there are enough tidbits here to initiate some more comments, for which I have been grateful!
Tuesday, August 28, 2007
Catholic Friendship?
I've been thinking a lot about the nature of friendship lately, and how the concept of friendship should be regarded in terms of Catholicism. If there is a theology of friendship, it's not something I have come across yet. Friendship is certainly not a Sacrament, but it almost seems to me that it might have the quality of a sacramental, though it could be that that just sounds nice, since I'm not prepared to elaborate on it at this time.
My greatest friendship is, of course, my marriage. It seems natural, though not all people see marriage in that way. Interestingly, it is also the only friendship I have had in my life that I can consider truly successful. I attribute this, in part, to the fact that my husband and I are alike enough and different enough in the right ways for a really deep friendship to work. I don't doubt that it is possible to have love without this kind of friendship, but I wouldn't have it any other way. Otherwise, friends come and friends go. Sometimes they drift away naturally, sometimes there is something more explosive involved. Usually with the friends whom I consider to be closer, the end is more explosive.
With a friendship as consuming as my marriage, other friendships have been mostly matters of acquaintance. I have hesitated to call colleagues friends, for the most part, though this has altered as I have found more colleagues with more in common with me--family situation, in particular. Which brings up the question of on what bases friendships are built. Clearly, friends don't have to have any similarities. But it likely helps. Friends I knew in high school used to quote a line from the play Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead: "All we have in common is our situation." But is that truly enough?
Perhaps there needs to be some kind of mutual understanding. Or perhaps just the desire to be friends. An enjoyment of each others' company. But don't we have friends whose company we find agitating and antagonistic? What about concern for the other's well-being? Is that enough? And at what point, if any, should friends part ways? Like I said, it has always happened rather naturally for me--sometimes from mutual apathy, one might say. Other times from deep betrayal and hurt. Somehow, neither of these options feels particularly desirable from a Christian perspective. But does "loving one's neighbor" necessarily involve indissoluble bonds? Perhaps remaining true to such bonds teaches us about Christ. (Is that what I meant by friendship being a "sacramental"?)
Recently, Entropy and Kate have posted on different aspects of friendship, the former involving bloggers and the latter involving finding Catholic couples to hang out with. (Though I can no longer find Entropy's entry, I think that she was approaching some aspect of the post through a Catholic lens, even if it was through the lens of Catholic guilt--just kidding! At least, I think I'm just kidding. Unless I'm right. . .) I know that when I read Kate's post, I wondered about the Catholic connection--and the couples' connection. I've never thought specifically in terms of either. But it does kind of make me ponder the benefits--and possibly the additional responsibilities and constraints involved--in having or seeking Catholic friends in particular. Especially "like minded" Catholic friends.
I confess that this is a post of questions. I have no answers. But friendship has always been somewhat of a struggle for me, and I'm not sure if it has been because of some failing on my part or on the part of others. It is some of what made sense on that "personality quiz." (And the thing about being laid back--which I define loosely--until a vital principle is violated plays into this, too; friendships can easily be lost over such principles.) I take relationships very seriously, invest a lot emotionally in a very few friendships, and, well, this is not always considered a "healthy" state of things in the "real" world of post-Freudian pop-psychology. It made my life h*ll in high school, gotta tell you.
My greatest friendship is, of course, my marriage. It seems natural, though not all people see marriage in that way. Interestingly, it is also the only friendship I have had in my life that I can consider truly successful. I attribute this, in part, to the fact that my husband and I are alike enough and different enough in the right ways for a really deep friendship to work. I don't doubt that it is possible to have love without this kind of friendship, but I wouldn't have it any other way. Otherwise, friends come and friends go. Sometimes they drift away naturally, sometimes there is something more explosive involved. Usually with the friends whom I consider to be closer, the end is more explosive.
With a friendship as consuming as my marriage, other friendships have been mostly matters of acquaintance. I have hesitated to call colleagues friends, for the most part, though this has altered as I have found more colleagues with more in common with me--family situation, in particular. Which brings up the question of on what bases friendships are built. Clearly, friends don't have to have any similarities. But it likely helps. Friends I knew in high school used to quote a line from the play Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead: "All we have in common is our situation." But is that truly enough?
Perhaps there needs to be some kind of mutual understanding. Or perhaps just the desire to be friends. An enjoyment of each others' company. But don't we have friends whose company we find agitating and antagonistic? What about concern for the other's well-being? Is that enough? And at what point, if any, should friends part ways? Like I said, it has always happened rather naturally for me--sometimes from mutual apathy, one might say. Other times from deep betrayal and hurt. Somehow, neither of these options feels particularly desirable from a Christian perspective. But does "loving one's neighbor" necessarily involve indissoluble bonds? Perhaps remaining true to such bonds teaches us about Christ. (Is that what I meant by friendship being a "sacramental"?)
Recently, Entropy and Kate have posted on different aspects of friendship, the former involving bloggers and the latter involving finding Catholic couples to hang out with. (Though I can no longer find Entropy's entry, I think that she was approaching some aspect of the post through a Catholic lens, even if it was through the lens of Catholic guilt--just kidding! At least, I think I'm just kidding. Unless I'm right. . .) I know that when I read Kate's post, I wondered about the Catholic connection--and the couples' connection. I've never thought specifically in terms of either. But it does kind of make me ponder the benefits--and possibly the additional responsibilities and constraints involved--in having or seeking Catholic friends in particular. Especially "like minded" Catholic friends.
I confess that this is a post of questions. I have no answers. But friendship has always been somewhat of a struggle for me, and I'm not sure if it has been because of some failing on my part or on the part of others. It is some of what made sense on that "personality quiz." (And the thing about being laid back--which I define loosely--until a vital principle is violated plays into this, too; friendships can easily be lost over such principles.) I take relationships very seriously, invest a lot emotionally in a very few friendships, and, well, this is not always considered a "healthy" state of things in the "real" world of post-Freudian pop-psychology. It made my life h*ll in high school, gotta tell you.
Sunday, April 1, 2007
The Ugly Green Monster, or Being content with your own challenges
It is always difficult comparing oneself to others. It is perhaps more difficult not to compare oneself to others. The tendency is one that every parent (every parent, that is, who does not encourage such comparisons) combats as soon as his/her child enters school. "Tommy is 3 pages ahead of me in math!" "Jimmy read 3 books and I'm only on my second!" "Caleb and Cody run faster, and Ruben is a better soccer player!" But in all reality, I think most adults are equally guilty of comparing themselves to others, and that the result of such comparisons is the inevitable envy of others' situations. It is a struggle to remember, at times, that our situations are frequently the results of our own different goals and choices, and that others' challenges may be more difficult than ours, even if their circumstances seem better in one way or another.
This is something I have struggled with ever since coming to Texas. The standards by which native Texans judge life--especially the financial aspects of life--are radically different from how I understood things growing up in New Orleans. Graduate students still being supported by their parents and grandparents provided my first great shock, but I think this difference really gelled for me when a friend's husband remarked that he didn't think they were yuppies yet, but that he hoped to be so one day. To me, the term "yuppie" represented something like Matthew Arnold's use of the term "Philistine" in Culture and Anarchy, or the term bourgeois to societies that value aristocratic culture. To him, "yuppie" represented a standard of income and comfort to which he aspired. As I remarked to a student the other day when we were discussing graduate school and income, specifically, the idea that some B.A. degrees have a greater payout than many graduate degrees, it definitely depends on your perspective whether a graduate degree is "worth it." My family already earns more than my family's income when I was growing up (inflation notwithstanding), and my mother had 6 children. I am only on #3.
Though I have stopped panicking about the financial aspect of this pregnancy, having found that my insurance will probably only require us to pay about $600 for every aspect of this pregnancy and delivery, it will not be easy on us to have #3 at this stage. We just decided that we could afford #2, when we were confronted with the choice, shortly after her birth: reconcile with the USDEd or be garnished. (Forbearances fell through the cracks.) We considered ourselves to be doing pretty well, comparatively. We were better off financially than we ever had been since marriage. My husband's job was more stable (since he gave up the teaching that he enjoyed) and he was guaranteed a paycheck 12 months of the year (which I am not). So I was shocked when a friend of mine, newly married herself, devoutly Catholic, a great advocate of NFP who considered me an NFP "success" when I became pregnant shortly after becoming Catholic, presented me with a couple of shopping bags of baby "gifts"--chosen from the crisis pregnancy center where her Dad worked. Was I to be a charity recipient? I in no way felt like I was the person for whom those goods were intended. I was married, my pregnancy was "planned". . . I could only assume that she either believed that my daughter was an NFP success because I was "open to," but not necessarily trying to achieve, pregnancy, or that we were too poor to be able to afford another baby. Either impression was disturbing.
Inevitably, when one is close friends with people, particularly, it seems, with couples, one becomes acquainted with their financial situations. In the case of this friend and her now-husband, I know that they planned meticulously (albeit quickly) for marriage by taking stock of their various resources, considering their compatibility and God's will--things that it would not have occurred to me to do, and which, if considered carefully, would have contraindicated marriage because of our financial situations at the time. So we came to realize that these newlyweds, who did not have children and did not have to pay rent because of an arrangement with the homeowner, made roughly twice our income. Other friends exceeded our income by something like three times, but did not feel financially secure enough to have a family, in spite of their significant lack of debt. We have always struggled. It may have been wrong to compare ourselves to others who did not choose graduate school, or who did not finish or work continuously towards the degree the way I have. But the comparison was inevitable, and the seeming unfairness of the situation preyed on my mind. It also puts one at a disadvantage in a friendship to feel as though, if your friends can't afford a child at $100K, how can they respect your decision to have a second at $40K?
I have discussed elsewhere the dilemma of helping relatives who need financial assistance after being displaced by Hurricane Katrina. We pay for two cars, but only have use of one.
Things will not be easy, and I am still over a year away from the possibility of a tenure-track job, though all the instruments we have agree that motherhood decreases a woman's chance of achieving tenure, either because of her own decisions in the matter or others' prejudices. Fatherhood, by contrast, according to an article I can no longer find, increases the man's chance of advancing in academia, providing his fatherhood is a subtle aspect of his persona. My husband had to abandon the possibility Ph.D. a while back, in support of my own Ph.D. (though perhaps not permanently). So I'm pretty much our hope for any increase in income. Later, not now.
And here I am, working on #3.
The question occurs to me, once again. . . What is the role of Divine Intervention in financial matters? There are many whose blogs I have read, notably Jen at Et tu, Jen?, as well as commentors on a previous post of mine, who believe explicitly and implicitly that God does provide materially and in tangibly noticeable, even dramatic, ways. I have always experienced it as a slow inching, by degrees, to a slightly more preferable state, followed by a number of setbacks like a seized tax return after loan consolidation paperwork fell through, or sabotage by graduate coordinator of the Ph.D. program that my husband would have graduated from by now, or the sabotage of a willful department head who could not see why someone with a family and an excellent teaching record deserves to teach, and be paid for, the full-load of 4 classes instead of 1.
If I accept my own view of things, that God does not directly intervene in financial matters, but provides for our needs in other ways, I can not account for others' financial-relief-though-prayer stories. However, if I accept others' faith in God's provision for our material needs--in some cases, wants--I am faced with the dilemma not of why my needs are not met, but why others, in worse situations than mine, do not have the benefit of divine intervention. As for myself, I have either to conclude that I lack constancy in prayer and faith in this particular area of God's mercy, or that my situation is not bad enough to merit Divine Intervention, which I can accept, but I know that there are more pious people than I who are very, very desperately poor.
This was not intended to be a post primarily about finances, however, but about envy, comparing oneself to others, and finally preferring one's own challenges.
There are many other occasions that arise that encourage one to compare oneself to others. Mothers everywhere discuss childbirth experiences, early feeding issues, jaundice. . . I have twice had friends less experienced than I with breastfeeding spared the agony I faced with a child who would not wake up to nurse--who lost a pound of her birthweight while I waited for my milk to arrive. Whose doctors did not have to push formula, and who did not make them feel deficient. Baby and I survived these trials, and more. And it is difficult to see others breeze through. . . Except that one of my friends had to travel 3 hours in the days after her son was born to spend time with her father in his last days. She found that she was pregnant about the time that he learned that he had cancer, and had little if any hope of it being cured. So her unplanned pregnancy resulted in her father being able to see his new grandchild before he died. What a gift! And had she had to struggle with my new baby struggles, her ability to find time for her father would have been compromised. My other friend who has wonderfully had unparalleled success with breastfeeding almost lost her baby due to complications, endured an emergency C-section, and had a terribly emotionally taxing pregnancy even before the onset of health concerns for the baby. Her positive breastfeeding experience has allowed her a measure of comfort in all of this. It is impossible to feel actual envy in the face of these circumstances, and it helps to be able to recognize that our difficulties are our own, unique to us, given to us with a recognition of what we are capable of handling, and from what we will benefit most in our particular circumstances.
Since finding I was pregnant, I have found more blogs discussing--often in grim detail--the emotional and physical pain of miscarriage than I ever suspected existed. I already knew of 3 fellow-graduate students who suffered miscarriages since I was pregnant with my daughter. This is not healthy reading for someone in her 9th week of pregnancy, but it does make it clear to me that my feelings about this baby--and this pregnancy--are not ambiguous. I did not expect that they would be, but being confronted with it concretely is a blessing of sorts. In the midst of my sadness and sympathy for others, I realize that I prefer my own challenges, and pray that I will not have to face what they have bravely endured.
Similarly, the financial burdens I have are ones to which I am fairly accustomed at this point. They weigh me down. They are ugly. They seem inescapable--and may well be. But they are my own challenges. I have a wonderful, supportive husband who understands me and does not demean me or my experiences in any way. We both value much in life above money, and we will hopefully teach our children this attitude. Likely we are not as generous as we could be, but since we both returned to the Church, this has been improving. It is difficult to be generous when one's mind is focused on one's own financial troubles! We love one another and our children. We will accept this new life with excitement. We have goals that are non-financial that may be within reach! So at the end of the day, the comparisons between our life and the lives of our friends do not hold up. We are living as we have chosen to live in many ways; we accept our own challenges and are satisfied.
ADDENDUM--Here is the source for my comments about academic motherhood and fatherhood, above, from The New Republic's Open University blog feature. Evidently the same search term yielded this result and one of my posts! It never ceases to amaze me how the web works. . .
This is something I have struggled with ever since coming to Texas. The standards by which native Texans judge life--especially the financial aspects of life--are radically different from how I understood things growing up in New Orleans. Graduate students still being supported by their parents and grandparents provided my first great shock, but I think this difference really gelled for me when a friend's husband remarked that he didn't think they were yuppies yet, but that he hoped to be so one day. To me, the term "yuppie" represented something like Matthew Arnold's use of the term "Philistine" in Culture and Anarchy, or the term bourgeois to societies that value aristocratic culture. To him, "yuppie" represented a standard of income and comfort to which he aspired. As I remarked to a student the other day when we were discussing graduate school and income, specifically, the idea that some B.A. degrees have a greater payout than many graduate degrees, it definitely depends on your perspective whether a graduate degree is "worth it." My family already earns more than my family's income when I was growing up (inflation notwithstanding), and my mother had 6 children. I am only on #3.
Though I have stopped panicking about the financial aspect of this pregnancy, having found that my insurance will probably only require us to pay about $600 for every aspect of this pregnancy and delivery, it will not be easy on us to have #3 at this stage. We just decided that we could afford #2, when we were confronted with the choice, shortly after her birth: reconcile with the USDEd or be garnished. (Forbearances fell through the cracks.) We considered ourselves to be doing pretty well, comparatively. We were better off financially than we ever had been since marriage. My husband's job was more stable (since he gave up the teaching that he enjoyed) and he was guaranteed a paycheck 12 months of the year (which I am not). So I was shocked when a friend of mine, newly married herself, devoutly Catholic, a great advocate of NFP who considered me an NFP "success" when I became pregnant shortly after becoming Catholic, presented me with a couple of shopping bags of baby "gifts"--chosen from the crisis pregnancy center where her Dad worked. Was I to be a charity recipient? I in no way felt like I was the person for whom those goods were intended. I was married, my pregnancy was "planned". . . I could only assume that she either believed that my daughter was an NFP success because I was "open to," but not necessarily trying to achieve, pregnancy, or that we were too poor to be able to afford another baby. Either impression was disturbing.
Inevitably, when one is close friends with people, particularly, it seems, with couples, one becomes acquainted with their financial situations. In the case of this friend and her now-husband, I know that they planned meticulously (albeit quickly) for marriage by taking stock of their various resources, considering their compatibility and God's will--things that it would not have occurred to me to do, and which, if considered carefully, would have contraindicated marriage because of our financial situations at the time. So we came to realize that these newlyweds, who did not have children and did not have to pay rent because of an arrangement with the homeowner, made roughly twice our income. Other friends exceeded our income by something like three times, but did not feel financially secure enough to have a family, in spite of their significant lack of debt. We have always struggled. It may have been wrong to compare ourselves to others who did not choose graduate school, or who did not finish or work continuously towards the degree the way I have. But the comparison was inevitable, and the seeming unfairness of the situation preyed on my mind. It also puts one at a disadvantage in a friendship to feel as though, if your friends can't afford a child at $100K, how can they respect your decision to have a second at $40K?
I have discussed elsewhere the dilemma of helping relatives who need financial assistance after being displaced by Hurricane Katrina. We pay for two cars, but only have use of one.
Things will not be easy, and I am still over a year away from the possibility of a tenure-track job, though all the instruments we have agree that motherhood decreases a woman's chance of achieving tenure, either because of her own decisions in the matter or others' prejudices. Fatherhood, by contrast, according to an article I can no longer find, increases the man's chance of advancing in academia, providing his fatherhood is a subtle aspect of his persona. My husband had to abandon the possibility Ph.D. a while back, in support of my own Ph.D. (though perhaps not permanently). So I'm pretty much our hope for any increase in income. Later, not now.
And here I am, working on #3.
The question occurs to me, once again. . . What is the role of Divine Intervention in financial matters? There are many whose blogs I have read, notably Jen at Et tu, Jen?, as well as commentors on a previous post of mine, who believe explicitly and implicitly that God does provide materially and in tangibly noticeable, even dramatic, ways. I have always experienced it as a slow inching, by degrees, to a slightly more preferable state, followed by a number of setbacks like a seized tax return after loan consolidation paperwork fell through, or sabotage by graduate coordinator of the Ph.D. program that my husband would have graduated from by now, or the sabotage of a willful department head who could not see why someone with a family and an excellent teaching record deserves to teach, and be paid for, the full-load of 4 classes instead of 1.
If I accept my own view of things, that God does not directly intervene in financial matters, but provides for our needs in other ways, I can not account for others' financial-relief-though-prayer stories. However, if I accept others' faith in God's provision for our material needs--in some cases, wants--I am faced with the dilemma not of why my needs are not met, but why others, in worse situations than mine, do not have the benefit of divine intervention. As for myself, I have either to conclude that I lack constancy in prayer and faith in this particular area of God's mercy, or that my situation is not bad enough to merit Divine Intervention, which I can accept, but I know that there are more pious people than I who are very, very desperately poor.
This was not intended to be a post primarily about finances, however, but about envy, comparing oneself to others, and finally preferring one's own challenges.
There are many other occasions that arise that encourage one to compare oneself to others. Mothers everywhere discuss childbirth experiences, early feeding issues, jaundice. . . I have twice had friends less experienced than I with breastfeeding spared the agony I faced with a child who would not wake up to nurse--who lost a pound of her birthweight while I waited for my milk to arrive. Whose doctors did not have to push formula, and who did not make them feel deficient. Baby and I survived these trials, and more. And it is difficult to see others breeze through. . . Except that one of my friends had to travel 3 hours in the days after her son was born to spend time with her father in his last days. She found that she was pregnant about the time that he learned that he had cancer, and had little if any hope of it being cured. So her unplanned pregnancy resulted in her father being able to see his new grandchild before he died. What a gift! And had she had to struggle with my new baby struggles, her ability to find time for her father would have been compromised. My other friend who has wonderfully had unparalleled success with breastfeeding almost lost her baby due to complications, endured an emergency C-section, and had a terribly emotionally taxing pregnancy even before the onset of health concerns for the baby. Her positive breastfeeding experience has allowed her a measure of comfort in all of this. It is impossible to feel actual envy in the face of these circumstances, and it helps to be able to recognize that our difficulties are our own, unique to us, given to us with a recognition of what we are capable of handling, and from what we will benefit most in our particular circumstances.
Since finding I was pregnant, I have found more blogs discussing--often in grim detail--the emotional and physical pain of miscarriage than I ever suspected existed. I already knew of 3 fellow-graduate students who suffered miscarriages since I was pregnant with my daughter. This is not healthy reading for someone in her 9th week of pregnancy, but it does make it clear to me that my feelings about this baby--and this pregnancy--are not ambiguous. I did not expect that they would be, but being confronted with it concretely is a blessing of sorts. In the midst of my sadness and sympathy for others, I realize that I prefer my own challenges, and pray that I will not have to face what they have bravely endured.
Similarly, the financial burdens I have are ones to which I am fairly accustomed at this point. They weigh me down. They are ugly. They seem inescapable--and may well be. But they are my own challenges. I have a wonderful, supportive husband who understands me and does not demean me or my experiences in any way. We both value much in life above money, and we will hopefully teach our children this attitude. Likely we are not as generous as we could be, but since we both returned to the Church, this has been improving. It is difficult to be generous when one's mind is focused on one's own financial troubles! We love one another and our children. We will accept this new life with excitement. We have goals that are non-financial that may be within reach! So at the end of the day, the comparisons between our life and the lives of our friends do not hold up. We are living as we have chosen to live in many ways; we accept our own challenges and are satisfied.
ADDENDUM--Here is the source for my comments about academic motherhood and fatherhood, above, from The New Republic's Open University blog feature. Evidently the same search term yielded this result and one of my posts! It never ceases to amaze me how the web works. . .
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