Summer of '68

There's a lot of reminisce this summer about the warmer days of 1968. The commercials catering to baby-boomers in particular have celebrated Woodstock, bushy dreads, the age of rock 'n' roll, and on and on. (For a great synopsis of the most important events of the 1960's, by the way, check out George Wiegel's "The Sixties, Again and Again.")

But it is also the anniversary of Pope Paul VI's Humanae Vitae, or "On Human Life." This is the encyclical known as the "contraception no-no." Or by less flattering and more obscene names. But it is, more than anything, an exhortation to a Christocentric understanding of the human person, the human body, and what it means to be male and female.

To mark the anniversary (which is, to be precise, July 25), here are a couple of resources.

Kathryn Jean Lopez over at National Review Online has a brief and witty reflection on the document. As she notes, it seems that Paul VI predicted in 1968 what the cover of Cosmo in July 2008 would look like. The pope warned that mass acceptance of contraception would lead to, among other tragedies, the mass objectification and denigration of the female body (and, one can argue, by necessity the male body). Cosmo's headlines this month certainly confirm that warning...

And, best of all, First Things headlines this month with a longer article by Mary Ebersdadt on the reception of Humanae Vitae, the current understanding (or total lack thereof) of its teaching, and the aftermath of a sexual revolution that permeated the Church almost as broadly as it did the secular world:

"Let’s begin by meditating upon what might be called the first of the secular ironies now evident: Humanae Vitae’s specific predictions about what the world would look like if artificial contraception became widespread. The encyclical warned of four resulting trends: a general lowering of moral standards throughout society; a rise in infidelity; a lessening of respect for women by men; and the coercive use of reproductive technologies by governments."

Hmmm.

She gives an amusing description of the "cafeteria" attitude most Catholics tender toward the Church teaching on contraception. If you don't laugh, you'll cry, they say... But it prompted me to wonder that in all my adult life, attending Mass almost daily in churches up and down the Eastern seaboard, many of those churches being "quite orthodox," why I have never heard a homily on contraception. I have heard two homilies on sexual ethics--both explaining well the sanctity of sex within marriage. I have heard three that mention the impossibility of gay "marriage." The general dearth is astonishing, given the urgent need for clarity on these issues. Cause and effect are one and the same...

But on and on I go. Read the articles. Read the encyclical. If your mind is made up against the teaching, look at it again. Talk to couples living it out in their marriages. See if perhaps your head and your heart can come along the high adventure that it is to be fully human. That was what the summer of '68 sought; it is what Paul VI preached.

Our Lady of Mt. Carmel

"In the days to come, the mountain of the Lord's house shall be established as the highest mountain and raised above the hills. All nations shall stream toward it..." ~Isaiah 2:2

Blessed feast to all you dear Carmelites, secular Carmelites, and Carmelites-at-heart!

Hey, I knew that guy!

So far, summer reading in NH has included Magnificat, back-issues of National Review, and Gut Check, by Tarek Saab, of The Apprentice fame. The subtitle is "Confronting love, work, and manhood in your twenties"--and that pretty much does no justice whatsoever to Saab's message. This is less a self-help book for young men than a Confessions.

Saab tells his story of conversion from the ego-centric hedonism of his college years (though I'm afraid his exploits are tame compared to most) to a muscular understanding of what it takes to be a man for God in our current American culture. The story is also the spring-board for reflections on the particular pressures our culture places on young men in the workplace and the perpetual-adolescence malaise in social settings.

Saab's thoughtfulness and the breadth of his sources of inspiration (he quotes Pope Pius XII, St. Paul, St. Augustine, Fulton Sheen, C.S. Lewis, and G.K. Chesterton, to name a few) are truly impressive, but most of all his deep humility. His peace and joy have been hard-won.

The book is well-worth a read (and well-worth buying a few copies for dissemination among your male friends!). And, hey! I knew that guy at CUA briefly and superficially through Campus Ministry--it's glorious to read that he has become, indeed, a better human being than I! Onward to Christ, Tarek, alleluia.

Feeling very

non-philosophical.

The Philosopher Mom and Scientist Dad (with progeny) are in the wild, wild wood of New Hampshire enjoying a cool summer breeze. Somehow, my thoughts turn more to blueberries, coffee, and the sensual delights of lakes, forests, and valleys than to the angst of life. As it should be. For to be a great philosopher, one must also be fully human. And to delight in creation because of the Creator is a peculiarly human activity. As is rest from the necessary tasks of life.

And so, coming full circle: it is at these moments that we are most philosophical!

Leisure, the basis of culture. Gratitude, the basis of joy.

Blogging the Body

If all goes well, a new blog is coming your way: Blogging the Body. Beginning this week, a group of seven women from a spectrum of perspectives (say that ten times fast!) will be reading and discussing John Paul II's lectures on the theology of the body. We're starting from the beginning and going all the way through. If you've never read the lectures, this may be a neat (one of my most-hated adjectives!) way to dabble your toes.

I can't promise a uniformally orthodox reading of the text--it's more of a Bible-study kind of scenario, I think. Here's what the intention is:

"In 1979 JP II began a series of Wednesday addresses on embodied Christian sexuality and love which were subsequently collected and published under the title Theology of the Body. In total, there are 129 lectures divided into six cycles (Marriage [1-23], Adultery [24-50], Resurrection of the Body [51-72], Celibacy and Virginity [73-86], the Sacrament of Marriage [87-113], and Contraception [114-129]). TOTB already enjoys a cult-like following from many sentimental devotees. Theologians have addressed TOTB, it is the major work guiding a movement known as The New "Feminism," and study guides have been published to tell the reader how she should respond. We are not exactly interested in any of that. Nor are we interested in reductive and angry 2nd-Wave critiques. We're post-Judith Butler now and discourse matters, or something like that. We are, however, interested in engaging with the text in a quasi formalist way—meaning, reading and responding to the texts without theory or authoritative glosses... The objective will be to intellectually and spiritually engage with the text... We are interested in critical-, philosophical- and theological-oriented responses but we also want each response to be made by an individual embodied feminine subject—i.e. a real woman with a real mind and a real body."

Could be interesting, so check it out once in a while.

Not Dead Yet

Disturbing, yet worth a read. It makes me weep all over again for Terri Schiavo.

A Second Nature

I have been following Elizabeth Foss's summer book study on Charlotte Mason and was particularly struck by her entry on habits.

Miriam has had me at a loss with discipline: she doesn't seem to respond (i.e., do what I want her to do) to time-out, corporal punishment, explanations, etc... I've tried everything. Foss/Mason get me back on track here. Discipline is not about getting the child to do what I want her to do at that moment. It is about forming her habits so that she can act in a fully human way.

And in order to form her in good habits, boy, had I better have good habits, too! This part from Foss hit home:

"This is "pay now or pay later" parenting philosophy. I can assign a task and then motivate myself to teach patiently how it is done properly and to inspect to see that it has been completed properly--over and over again until it is a habit--or I can take the easy road now and not follow through, only to be faced with that same poorly done task, or task not done at all forever more. This goes way beyond the habit of doing household chores cheerfully and well. It means addressing every small lie and insisting upon the truth. It means stopping in my tracks to correct a whining child and insist on a pleasant voice (or a nap) every single time. It means ensuring first time obedience. It's work. but it's going to be work either way. An untrained child or a poorly trained child will be much, much more work as an unruly teenager or young adult."

I have to discipline myself to be Miriam's mother: there is no task I have on my list for today (groceries, lunch, laundry, dinner, blogging, e-mail, calls) that supersedes the child's need for good habits. I have to be willing and discipline myself to stop what I am doing to train her in the way she should go--and to rejoice with her when she does something well.

This is intentional living--no more simply "getting through the day" until Daddy comes home and I can have "me time." To form good habits in myself and my children I must intend to do so. That is, I, the mother, must be a philosopher! And, believe it or not, one of the greatest philosophers is right there with me: Aristotle said that a habit is as a second nature. The habits formed in our childhood are nearly impossible to change. We do not "grow out of them," but rather must work our way in or out of them with intention and labor.

The good habits I want to instill in Miriam begin with my attentiveness to her action. It means giving her the confidence that I and her father are with her to help her form those habits (virtues) which will make her life a happy life "without the constant wear and tear of the moral effort of decision." Mason also wrote, "Once, twice, three times in a day, he will still, no doubt, have to choose between the highest and the less high, the best and the less good course. But all the minor moralities of life may be made habitual to him. He has been brought up to be courteous, prompt, punctual, neat, considerate; and he practices these virtues without conscious effort." That is, the habits of the child--which become the habits of the man or woman--are as second nature, leaving room in his or her life to concentrate on higher things.

It may sound awfully strict, but I have found that when I am attentive to these little habits in Miriam and my own life, our day is happier. We have more time for books and coloring and baking. We have fewer trips to the time-out corner. We try to be neat, courteous, and prompt; we demand truth over desire. And we are joyful.

And I read it all so long ago in Aristotle: the virtuous man is the supremely happy man. To think the Nichomachean Ethics could be true in a toddler house!