Teaching The Little Mermaid by Hans Christian Andersen, and other things. . .

If you haven't read the original, you can read it here. I assigned an essay on "The Moral Simplification of Disney's 'The Little Mermaid,'" and had them read the original text. I don't think any of them had read it before.

My first surprise was when it was argued that the Disney version was better by virtue of its simplicity because without the immortality of the soul as a subtext, it would be more accessible to those who were atheist or agnostic, and so did not wish for their children to be exposed to difficult questions that would then require explanation. Also, the replay value of a text with such an unhappy ending--one that instructed rather than amusing--was called into question. This rather put a damper on the prospect of discussing Andersen's text on its own terms, but then, with such a popular version as a comparison, I guess the original was at a disadvantage. The essay argued that the happy ending does rather a disservice to the reader, creating expectations that wishes will always be fulfilled, and attributing misfortune to the will of a single malevolent force. We wound up discussing the issue of representation of parental authority, and why parents feel threatened when fictional characters disobey (and get away with it)--not an issue in the original. Another point was that it contains more relevant topics--like not to talk to strangers--than the immortality of the soul. I tried to compare the complexity of the two issues. Even if you're not interested in the immortality of the soul, you can still concede that the question is more complex, no? The issue of why the mermaid could not achieve both a soul and true love was raised--the dichotomy was seen as a false one.

I admit that I felt a bit at a disadvantage because the Andersen text was being charged with not being politically or socially relevant. Maybe that's why it was excluded from the anthology!! But then, I think it's a problem when the expectation is that the world should be fair, and fiction is expected either to create a safehaven where the world looks fair, or becomes more fair (just), or acknowledges its unfairness in a way that places blame or suggests a remedy. I never had a problem with the notion that toils and suffering could be fruitless, even as a child--except that her toils were not fruitless, as she was granted the opportunity to gain for herself an immortal soul. But if that consideration is alien to your worldview, it's rather difficult to entertain that as a concrete gain. So how to discuss texts with a Christian subtext in a secular university context?

I was particularly interested in the nature of love and the representation of marriage. Observe this passage:

“So I shall die,” said the little mermaid, “and as the foam of the sea I shall be driven about never again to hear the music of the waves, or to see the pretty flowers nor the red sun. Is there anything I can do to win an immortal soul?”

“No,” said the old woman, “unless a man were to love you so much that you were more to him than his father or mother; and if all his thoughts and all his love were fixed upon you, and the priest placed his right hand in yours, and he promised to be true to you here and hereafter, then his soul would glide into your body and you would obtain a share in the future happiness of mankind. He would give a soul to you and retain his own as well; but this can never happen. Your fish’s tail, which amongst us is considered so beautiful, is thought on earth to be quite ugly; they do not know any better, and they think it necessary to have two stout props, which they call legs, in order to be handsome.”

In this characterization of marriage, we approximate the Catholic concept of a Sacramental Marriage, I think. At least, that would be a productive way to discuss a marriage that is so bound in the Judeo-Christian notion of the soul. The Biblical imagery--or analogy--is obvious: as Adam leant his rib to make Eve, so the husband of the mermaid (who is not human, and so is not the same as a human wife would be) lends part of his soul so that she might partake with him of Eternity. Pretty profound, actually. I managed to tease out the Adam & Eve reference, but had to quickly abandon the topic (which I did not introduce in the terms described above, though I would have liked to be teaching in a context that would have allowed for that kind of discussion). Now, even wanting to talk about the story in this way is new for me, much less having the context to do so, so I did not embark on an attempt to have the students define Sacramental Marriage through the story or evoke Catholic teaching. No waaaaay I'm THAT naïve! But still, I couldn't help wondering where that kind of discussion would lead. I planted the Adam & Eve seed, though. I didn't ask why there were all of those priests & incense & ritual in this Protestant, Danish text, but I wondered to myself. . .

In order to have something to discuss, I did ask what a feminist perspective might be, but that was too easy, really. She is dehumanized--being non-human in the first place doesn't really matter, or rather, it does because the female protagonist is alienated from the patriarchal world from the very nature of her being (or non-being)--and depends on finding a husband for her very soul. Her identity depends on him. Now, the Disney version does not really vary from this--rather, it validates that Ariel's existence depends on the prince. We learn that that's O.K. I'm not happy with seeing the Andersen version as negative in this way, and I don't think Disney's rebellion theme redeems their dependence on the handsome prince to justify Ariel's transformation. I presented this poem by Judith Viorst as an alternate "take" on the story; I liked this one in high school, but (point being taken--don't change who you are, yadda yadda), it doesn't exactly satisfy me in its interpretation of the story:

A Mermaid's Tail (Tale)

I left the castle of my mer-king father,
Where seaweed gardens sway in pearly sand.
I left behind sweet sisters and kind waters
To seek a prince's love upon the land.

My tongue was payment for the witch's potion,
And never would I sing sea songs again;
My tail became two human legs to dance on,
But I would always dance with shards of pain.

I risked more than my life to make him love me.
The prince preferred another for his bride.
I always hate the ending to this story:
They lived together happily; I cried.

But I have some advice for modern mermaids
Who wish to save great sorrow and travail:
Don't give up who you are for love of princes.
He might have liked me better with my tail.

For all the validating of identity for girls, it is an oversimplification--likely by design. So how to avoid that kind of oversimplification in classroom discussion? We discussed (briefly) ecofeminism, which is so over the top that it's really about use of language rather than perceived oppression, and so is fun for me. Briefly, briefly we discussed Matthew Arnold's "The Forsaken Merman." I think that comparison could have been fruitful on the religious front, with the contrast between nature/paganism and humanity/religion, and all of the various associations. But we wasted too much time talking about Disney. :P

My previous post about politics, perspectives, worldviews in the classroom was kind of poking (admittedly smug) fun at myself, though it did culminate in a very real frustration with what I see as the limitations and expectations of my teaching in my discipline. I worry about including texts that I don't like or with which I don't feel familiar enough to teach simply in order to represent a diversity of voices. I worry that when I include multi-ethnic selections or female authors as an afterthought, that I'm being a phony--or that I will come across that way. And that's a lot of baggage to add to the already considerable pressures of teaching.

And what about Catholicism? If to teach is my vocation (or part of my vocation), and I'm supposed to live my Faith, how do those things work together? As far as I can tell, it doesn't mean that I have to be nicey-nicey in the classroom (or on the blog, for that matter). I certainly DO have to engage with these questions, and this is a good format for me to do so. But what about subject matter of research and teaching? Surely I shouldn't shy away from the Christianity, though I can't really pursue the themes in more than superficial terms in my current position. And I have a problem with texts being taught simply for their Christian elements (usually in a simplified form)--like is done with the Chronicles of Narnia, which are typically embraced or rejected by scholars or teachers for their Christian elements. That is a bit simplistic on both sides.

With research, it is easier than teaching, I think. If we are selective in our research, well, that's part of being specialized. And I'm not sure how we can live the Faith through academic publishing, unless it means not publishing that thing I wrote about S & M in the films of a certain Spanish director. Yeah, that topic has been shelved permanently for a few years now.

An Ambiguous Sacrifice

Well, like so many Catholic bloggers this Lent and last, I am planning to give up blogging for Lent. I figure, everyone will lose interest & forget about me and my sitemeter stats will drop, but vanity is certainly not a good reason enough reason to stop me. I may get blogworthy ideas, but if they don't keep, perhaps I will focus on other things. Which brings me to the ambiguity. . .

No doubt I will miss blogging, and reading blogs (since that occupies more of my time than writing), and I will feel cut off from the community and the friends I have found, but when I considered posting about this a few days ago, I was thinking about my reasons for giving up blogging. Do I think that by giving up blogging and blog-reading, that I will devote more time to prayer, meditation and contemplation? Will this sacrifice bring me closer to God? Not to shock the Catholic blogging community, but no. Not even remotely. Not blogging will not make me saintlier, and that was nowhere in my motives for giving it up. Which caused me to pause. Was I giving up blogging the way others (like myself in the past) give up favorite food items--because it'll be healthier overall, kind of hard, and perhaps have the unanticipated benefit of weight loss? Well, it was true that I figured I would make my life more productive--I would be focusing on what I really should be doing--taking care of two little girls, a big brother, and (dare I say?) my husband and the house, working on the dissertation, and working for my assistantship--but isn't this more of a New Years resolution? Perhaps not, since I don't want to give it up permanently, but going cold turkey might help me regulate it more when I start back up after Easter. But isn't the Lenten sacrifice about turning back to God and making oneself holier? Reading the Catholic blogs probably makes me think about God more in a given day, albeit in a more cerebral or smug way (depending on the blog--mostly the ones whose authors don't read mine) than humble and spiritual. Well, this is what I figured. . .

I have talked a bit about vocation on this blog, here and there, from time to time. I am certainly called to motherhood and marriage, but there is this small matter of the dissertation, and the fact that I need to complete it in order for my family to move on from here, and for us to be able to pay the loans that have allowed us to pay the other bills and. . . well, you get the idea. And as for the argument (and I've seen it around the blogs) that the husband should be the provider, sometimes you have you go with the person who can do the narrowest job search instead of trawling the country for any job within a certain salary range for which one is qualified, and moving one's family accordingly. So the way I figure, the dissertation, at this point in time, is part of the family vocation. And, well, blogging is a kind of guilty pleasure in the middle of all of this. I really need to channel my creative energy into the dissertation, and these 40 days or so of Lent give me a chance to do that in an intense way, with few distractions. So how does this relate to a path to holiness? Because it relates to my vocation. And perhaps even to discernment of vocation, which I see as an ongoing process, though we've got to be settled sometime, right? My family just can't keep waiting indefinitely for the rest of our lives to begin.

So perhaps I will discover some spiritual elements in the pursuit of intellectual activity that is the dissertation, instead of the pursuit of intellectual activity that is the blogosphere for me. And perhaps by getting closer to my family vocation, I will move closer to God. Or maybe this is just my rationalization to force myself to do some work this Lent. You decide!!

P.S.--I will still be doing email, so if you feel like emailing, I wouldn't mind! (Please email me!!) ;)

P.P.S.--I will still be updating the family blog.

Things I've Been Thinking About. . .

If anyone can find a way to make that title grammatically correct and casual at the same time, let me know. . .
1) A while back, Jen referred me to another blog post of hers in response to a comment I made on this post. On my most recent post, I seemed once again to be asking the same questions, so I decided to write a response to Jen. It went something like this:

One of the reasons that I object to those who advise married couples to re-prioritize with God's will in mind is that it implies a serious judgment on the couple--that by pursuing careers, they are not considering their vocation as a married couple and God's will for their family the way they should be, and that the couple needs to re-prioritize with these things in mind, making sacrifices, yada yada. But I think that even if the couple was not yet consciously considering God's will, they might have been acting in accord with it simply from having been directed that way. So the acknowledgment that the family is or should be guided by God does not necessarily mean that everything that has happened up to that point was fruitless or misdirected. I know that in my life and my marriage and my family, I have certainly seen what I now take to be evidence that we were heading in the right direction. In many ways, my conversion was a culmination of where God had been leading me through motherhood, marriage (in that order) and my pursuit of higher education. There are certainly some things that I should have done differently to be more perfectly in accord with God's plan for my life--like the marriage and motherhood being somewhat out-of-order--but as I read somewhere, on "The Anchoress" blog, I believe, the Holy Spirit works with such materials as he has, and I'm not sure God could have gotten through to me in any other way. Had I not become pregnant, my husband & I would have probably lived together without being married, and may have lost each other by doing so. So if you look back on your life and feel like you can see that yes, God has been leading you into certain choices simply by making the right options available at the right time, how can you possibly interpret that as a cause to re-evaluate? I know situations are different, and something like the materialism you describe may be a cause to reevaluate priorities, but that may involve a shift in thinking and not always an entire lifestyle change.

The other problem I have is that the implications are usually the most dire for women--especially ambitious women, who must give up everything that they have pursued to the point of marriage and/or motherhood. Had I believed this when I became pregnant with my son, I either would have been pushed toward abortion, or I would have left school before reaching my B.A., which would have had serious consequences for our financial well-being as a family as well as my ability to cope with the challenges of motherhood. But again, I don't think that commitment to a marriage necessarily involves the degree of self-sacrifice that is generally attributed to it. I do believe that it involves compromise, some self-sacrifice on the part of both spouses, devotion to the marriage, the spouse, and to family, but I'm not sure that it involves an abandonment of personal and professional goals outside of the house, especially if those goals were family-friendly or were made with the possibility of a family in mind. Now, if the plans were made with an overly idealistic view of how things would work with a family, that is something different, and reevaluation would certainly be in order. But these things tend to be discussed in such abstracts and absolutes that it is difficult to find oneself in what is being proposed.

2) Harry Potter. Before my mom left, we went to see Order of the Phoenix. It was compelling--more so than the other films, I thought. And it raised enough questions that I wanted to read the book. Now, I hadn't gotten past the first chapter of Azkaban previously. There were some things that really bugged me--and some that still do. One is the matter of internal consistency. But I have revisited Azkaban. They're great when you need an escape--and I do.

3) An article mentioned, I believe, by The Curt Jester, titled "The New Victorians." I do take issue with the title, but we won't go into the Victorian thing. The idea is that there is a movement among women to embrace traditional conceptions of family and reject the trappings of the Sexual Revolution, including scanty clothing and promiscuity.

4) An article mentioned last Friday in Jen's Friday Favorites about a professional couple who decided to keep a baby at a professionally inconvenient time, rather than abort the baby to allow them to continue with their plan to investigate restrictive abortion laws in Mexico. There's a lot that's troubling here, although the overall message that life can continue with a baby is one that I'd like to see promoted more often, as I've mentioned before. I'm frankly surprised that this appeared in the New York Times. It just doesn't seem like their kind of topic.

5) The Latin Mass. Specifically, what the recent Motu Proprio issues by Pope Benedict XVI really means, apart from the hype of those who want to say that it's a step backward, that the Latin Mass is anti-semitic, and all of the other charges that have been leveled in recent weeks. My question: Does this really affect most parishes in this country? Should we really expect to see Latin Masses popping up in our local parishes? Unfortunately, the answer is likely 'no'. It is great that in parishes where a lot of crotchety Catholics have been clamoring for a long time for the Mass in Latin, the priest no longer has to rely on the permission of the bishop (who, in a perfect world, would have seen the value of permitting the Latin Mass) to serve his parishoners' liturgical needs. And similarly a good thing that those who attend schismatic masses simply because they like the Latin can be reincorporated into the Body of Christ. But in places where there's not a huge agitation, just a handful who would really like to seethe Mass done in Latin on a regular basis (weekly or at least monthly), there is little real hope that the pastors will see the need to comply. Here is one post that suggests some of the obstacles--popular opinion being one, and one that attempts to explain the implications of the Motu Proprio. I've been told by a deacon friend that, while "the motu propio has made provisions for the faithful to initiate the request and a mechanism for bypassing balky priests
and bishops," several obstacles exist, including that "most American seminaries stopped teaching Latin in the 1970s or have greatly lowered the Latin that they teach their seminarians," resulting in a loss of comfort level with the Latin among priests. There also seems to be a scarcity of the 1962 Missal. I also wonder if the sheer hassle of trying to fit another Mass--in another language--in the weekend and determining who will officiate is part of the deterrent. Any way, I feel rather let down, like the Motu Proprio--so long anticipated--has been much ado about. . . you know.

6) A half-post started a while back, in response to a comment from Melanie B on this post. She links to an article by Christopher West, of Theology of the Body fame, whose work I have never before read, but who has some interesting things to say in this brief article about Catholic moms and breastfeeding. This comment came at an interesting time for me (although I read it a few days late), as my husband and I had just been talking about something related. I was remembering having read that the Catholic Church encourages mothers to breastfeed for nutritional/nurturing purposes--though I can't remember now where I read this. A quick Google search revealed that most of the mention of breastfeeding in a Catholic context has to do with NFP and Natural Child Spacing, with occasional references to John Paul II or a rather recent book called Breastfeeding and Catholic Motherhood that talks about breastfeeding in the context of the "vocation as a Catholic mother." None of these are quite what I had in mind. (I hate lost references!)

An aside: In the process of searching, I found a film review by the USCCB that listed potentially objectionable elements in a particular film as "Murder (not shown), several disturbing images of a female cadaver with upper nudity, realistic fistfight with blood, a dead pet, rough and crude language and profanity, sexual language and groping, breast-feeding, discussion of abortion, discreetly depicted urination, alcohol use and domestic discord." Hmph!! As far as I'm concerned, the term "breast-feeding" (however spelled) should never be included with the rest of that sentence! It should never even be considered potentially offensive. But the anti-breastfeeding bias exists, even in contexts where it should not. Well, at least we know that this doesn't represent the Church's official position on the subject!

Christopher West's article takes as its point of departure some of the recent controversies surrounding breastfeeding, particularly images of breastfeeding in popular culture (interestingly, I almost showed a breastfeeding picture from a magazine cover alongside a book cover for a book about implants in my class for visual rhetoric and had them analyze the implications of each, but that was the last slide and we ran out of time). He discusses some cultural differences in terms of how breastfeeding is regarded, and concludes more or less that it is our skewed (sinful) way of viewing things that results in breastfeeding being seen as somehow improper, inappropriate, scandalous.

Though taken out of context, I found this quote interesting:

John Paul II observed in his theology of the body that the “whole exterior constitution of woman’s body, its particular look [is] in strict union with motherhood.” Since the body reveals the person, John Paul believes that this speaks volumes, not only about feminine biology, but about the dignity and nature of woman as a person.

My initial reaction was to take exception to the first observation, that the “whole exterior constitution of woman’s body, its particular look [is] in strict union with motherhood.” That is, until I remembered seeing on several documentaries about sex the same assertions made from a scientific and evolutionary rather than theological perspective. The body, from an evolutionary perspective, is designed to facilitate procreation--that is, survival of the species--beginning with sexual attraction of the mate, which, evolutionary biologists maintain, has to do with the potential mate's suitability for mating and the production of healthy offspring. Anyway, the compatibility of these notions struck me as interesting. The second part of the passage above is a little more complex. I'm not sure what is meant by "the body reveals the person." Again, it is taken out of context, but I wonder how less desirable physical characteristics would be regarded according to this sentiment, or how cultural and racial differences might enter that discussion. . .

And well, that's all for now! (Okay, it was a cheap ploy to get 6 posts in at once!)

Putting things into perspective. . .

I ran across this post, Some Thoughts on Motherhood, on the Wine-Dark Sea blog, as I followed the Darwins' request for prayers on behalf of Melanie Bettanelli, who faces cancer in the aftermath of a miscarriage. The post fits with an overall theme of mine--the vocation of motherhood, on which I hope one day to have non-reactionary observations to post! It also puts a number of things into perspective, particularly as it deals with the grief of losing a child, which is perhaps something most (?) expectant mothers fear on some level, myself included. I can't summarize my reactions, though the words "shame" and "sympathy" come to mind, and perhaps "humility"--my recognition of another person's humility and the experience of being humbled by another's experience.

I appreciated another post on Wine-Dark Sea titled Lent on God's Terms, which is also relevant to how I've been feeling this Lenten season (she thinks, realizing she has just eaten a Lenten candy bar). It is a feeling many I know have shared; it's as if somehow we were not, collectively, ready for Lent--at least several of the Catholics I have read, spoken to, or emailed. In my case, I have not felt particularly spiritual since well before my Toddler and the Mass post. Perhaps these posts will lead me to a new era of maternal spirituality. Certainly, I have a new incentive to pray.

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.