I once realized that my life can be characterized as a battle between the aesthetic and the ascetic. On the one hand, I think that the beautiful, good, and even holy things of human experience are all very much worth celebrating. And I spend a good deal of my time celebrating those very things. On the other hand, I am equally attracted to the austere and believe firmly that our culture is characterized by a ridiculous lack of discipline. Thus, I tend to keep a tight schedule, set rather high demands on myself in terms of output and achievement, and try to look for all of the things that I am not doing which I ought to be doing so that I can start doing them. The result of both of these things is that I tend to experience a lot of personal crisis.
One of those happened yesterday. My first three weeks of French class wrapped up in the morning and I was faced with almost a week of break during which I planned to prep for the next round and, more importantly, read some stuff for my pending Master’s essay. So I’m sitting in my apartment, drinking a cup of coffee, watching the skylight make sun rectangles on the floor, and reading Roland Barthes’ Camera Lucida, a book subtitled “Reflections on Photography.” It’s a beautiful book, one that combines great critical concepts with light and pleasurable prose. So, needless to say, I am thoroughly enjoying myself.
And then it hits me: what right do I have to be here enjoying this? From our culture’s strategic perspective, one could say I have every right: I’ve worked hard to get to grad school, I’ve sacrificed other things, I have been careful with my wife’s money, etc., etc. “I should have the right to enjoy what I have [sortof] earned.” But “rights” do not always include responsibilities. And by choosing to spend this afternoon on my couch, I am choosing to NOT alleviate some one else’s suffering, I am choosing to NOT give cups of cold water and visit those in prison.
My Catholic friend Artur calls it a case of classic Protestant guilt. He claims to have had other friends who, like me, thought that if they were enjoying themselves it wasn’t what they were supposed to be doing.
I told him Protestants didn’t inspire the phrase “self-flagellation.” But I suppose we internalize the practice in our own special way.
Another thing I realized yesterday: I think my problem is a problem of the general culture, namely, that the real questions we ask ourselves are “which pastel plastic bracelet defines my values? From which cause do I derive my moral identity? Who, ultimately, do I claim to be the most victimized of victims?” Not five minutes after I wrote those questions in my notebook, I kid you not, the guy in front of me at the post office purchased some pink teddy bear and asked if some of the money went to breast cancer research. The post office lady was happy to inform him that yes, $1 from the sale of this $10 stuffed animal would be used for this cause.
Don’t get me wrong, I am not trivializing breast cancer. My problem is that our moral reasoning is, like everything else, nothing more than a series of sound bytes and marketing clichés. And my problem was a) a Sartrean nausea brought on by the cultural failure to think morally and the reality of my own necessarily unfulfilled responsibility and b) realizing that I was using the same simplistic moral thinking and acting like it was somehow superior. I can’t say how, exactly, but I felt like I was.
Another thing my friend Artur said, paraphrasing Wendall Berry and echoing Capria Jaussen, is that our problem is that we see neither the concrete reality in front of us nor do we see the larger reality outside our immediate vision. That is, to put it eco-ethical terms, we miss both the dandelion plant growing through the city sidewalk and the devastation of corporate monocultures on the soil halfway around the world. And the thing I had never thought of before was that the one informs the other: it is by living concretely in the everyday that we, somehow, affect that which is outside of our daily experience. I need more of that.
I own a pastel plastic bracelet. It’s pale blue and it says something like “I’m working to fight prostate cancer!”
Paul,
I think about this often too. We call it Catholic guilt at Notre Dame, but, then again, ND tries to appropriate anything that involves guilt and obligation.
Your post makes me think of two books: Weber's Protestant Work Ethic and the Spirit of Capitalism and the Bible.
1) Weber writes that Protestants are predisposed to be great capitalists because they are taught that working hard and succeeding in life/business are proofs that you are saved, but also that you should be austere, self-sacrificing, and simple. So, protestants work super hard, but don't feel they should spend all their profits on personal indulgences, so they pump most of it back into the business. Not that you're guilt is leading you to pump any surplus back into an industry, but your post reminds me of the book.
2)Look at me quoting th Bible. Ok, I am not sure it is actually in the Bible, but I think it is, but definitely Jesus Christ Superstar (*blasphemy noted*). Judas questions why (in the movie) Mary Magdolin annoints Jesus's head with precious oil when the money could be used for the poor. Jesus responds by saying that there will be poor always and that we should appreciate "the good things we've got" (then on to a high pitch, rock-opera solo).
So, in conclusion, I have not solved any problems or answered any questions. Just added some more perspectives. Isn't that what blogging is about?
Oh, one more thing I thought of...
There is a guy who wrote a book, I can't remember the name of either write now, in which he asks the following question: if you were walking along and saw someone drowning, and could obviously help them, would you do it?
Of course most people say yes. The book argues that the situation of poverty around the world is such that many are literally "drowning" but no one is pausing to help. It is a pretty compelling argument; even Thoreau, old live on your own thoreau, summed up social responsiblity with the aphorism, "tie your shoelaces and SAVE THE DROWNING" (emphasis added).
The Author of the book actually donates tons of money to the hungry in Africa every year.
Anyway, more to ponder...
Posted by: twelsh at July 19, 2005 02:15 PMI think the analogy of drowning and the poor is exactly my problem. And I also think the anointing of Jesus is clearly relevant (although I think there are differences.) It also makes me think of Jesus making and drinking wine, something I at one time considered giving up as an expensive luxery that I didn't "need."
As you know, Tim, I did not adopt that resolution.
BTW, how is your summer going?
Posted by: paul at July 20, 2005 01:15 PMPaul,
I know you didn't. Neither did I.
My summer is going well. You would actually be quite interested in what I am doing. I am working as a research assistant for a moral psychologist. He has me writing the literature review for an article he is publishing that argues for a correlation between moral identity and civic engagement. It seems that those who desire to be moral are more likely to be involved in some civic, electoral, or political activities or organizations. So, since I have a very limited background in psychology, I have been reading all these studies about the decline in civic engagement, its importance to democratic society, and moral identity. Check out www.bettertogether.org. Anyway, back to work, but I wouldn't mind talking about these topics, civic engagement and moral efficacy, in the future.
Posted by: twelsh at July 21, 2005 08:21 AMThanks for your thoughtful writing, Paul. I've added you to my blogroll.
I've wrestled with the very same dynamic in our life as well -- a conviction (from scripture, I think) that Christians (I) should be doing more to alleviate suffering, or evangelize, or practice hospitality. This is combined, however, with a desire to be important and "better" than my fellow believers, to be able to say that I am not wasting time.
When we were in Honduras, we went away for a weekend every 3 months, usually to a beach or something fairly modest by U.S. standards, but rather extravagant by Honduran farmer standards. Once I was telling my friend Ramirez about our need to "get away" and talk about things in private, and he said something like, "Oh, if there's anything we need to talk about, we do it in the house." And of course they did. They didn't take vacations. They had enjoyment (their bath was a waterfall and pool of a rushing mountain stream), but work was too constant and urgent to "get away."
But I can say that those vacations were excellent times for our marriage and our life together. I don't know what to conclude exactly, except to say that there are cultural considerations.
Also, I've found Wendell Berry's admonition to look at what's in front of you to be helpful. I mean, we're tied to this street right now -- what are the needs here. Elisabeth Elliot says that some of the best advice she's heard is, "Do the next thing."
This comment is too long. Sorry.
Posted by: tom at July 23, 2005 07:54 AM