Catholicism and the Single Life

It's hard to be a Catholic single.

Not because we Catholic singles are pining away, swooning in a Disney-like desire to be swept off our feet by some holographic or digital airbrushed-perfective image of Prince Charming, to go galloping off romantically into the sunset, but rather....because we're NOT! 

I don't know why, but lately, everyone around me has begun inquiring into my marital status. 

Most of them, oddly enough, aren't asking about my marriage status first: instead, they are asking me how many children I have! [!!!!!!!!!!!!]

For some odd reason, many people think I have children. Some know I am not married, but still, their first question put to me is about my alleged children. In our culture, children come first, apparently...even within the Catholic Church.

That's called "SCANDAL" y'all, within the proper definition of the term! Most Catholics are so scandalized that they have reversed the "standard" questions put to single women:  no longer does marriage come first, but it is ASSUMED that single women in their 30's or above are also single mothers.

I am not making this up.

This is a serious anthropological observation of our culture, and I'm not the only one to make this observation. Unfortunately, for the moment all I have to provide is colloquial evidence from other single friends as well as my own experience, so really, you'll just have to take my word for it.  However, if you look around at our culture, the line of questioning makes sense: even in my parish work I no longer assume a mother is or was married when she had her child.  All too many "families" consist of a single woman with an absent father who is either single, divorced, or now married to someone else. (And before you judge their conditions, know that many of them never foresaw this outcome, and I thank God every day that they are involved with the Church!).

I don't really want this post to be about divorce and the new mis-definition of "family", though; my interest here is on the struggles of single Catholics, and single women everywhere.

Today I read an article at MSN about the "19 Things You Should Never Say to a Single Person".

I enjoyed the article but as a caveat, I must say I don't agree with all the sentiments expressed. Most of them were commenting from a perspective of "I don't want to be Single". I come from a polar opposite angle:  I don't want to be Married and know that I am NOT SUPPOSED to be married.Therefore I approach the article from a perspective that is deeply and inherently contrary to the most radically average and typical  elements in our society: I am a freely single woman who supports the marriage of a man and woman in all its fullness, and yet believe I am not called to that particular Vocation. My belief is not detrimental or contrary to marriage, for at the very core of my own vocation, I am called from my soul to support it, and to live it out in a very different way, in a different type of formal consecration.

Therefore, without further ado, here is my take on the article:

19 Things You Should Never Say to an Unmarried Person

I took this article from MSN, who reposted it from a Glamour magazine dating blogger. In bold you will find the "things not to be said", followed by my own commentary as a single Catholic woman.  Go to the article itself to see their commentary and responses to the following common comments made to Singles.

 *snark warning* 

1. It happens when you're not looking. It doesn't happen when you're looking and not looking, too. Because it's not supposed to for some of us.

2. There are plenty of fish in the sea. I like dolphins just fine and would like to swim with them, and with sharks, but I'm not sure how our marriage would work out.  Besides, fish smell worse than a locker room in the hockey area in the middle of tournament season....guess I'm not much of a sea-goer.

3. So, why are you single? Because I realized I'm not a piece of meat to be "had" by any butcher who comes along.

4. You're too picky. Yes, I am. I demand respect, I demand the ability to maintain both my chosen celibacy and chastity, and if I do go on a date, I prefer to do so with a man who is thinking with the brain in his cranium and not the one in his Levis.

5. You'll find the right person for you. Yes, I already did. His name is Jesus and He is enough for me.

6. He's out there. No, he's right HERE and I don't need some jock slobbering all over me in order to understand that I exist.

7. It was just bad timing. No, he was a jerk. That''s the kindest think I can say about him.

8. Just have fun with it! Have fun with WHAT exactly?  What are you implying? I'm NOT that kind of girl! Oh, right, that's why he broke up with me; he "wanted some" and couldn't understand why I valued marriage and thought that to be an important step in the process of active procreation.

9. Have you tried online dating? Have YOU?  FYI: if the guy is a jerk in real life, he's even worse online. "Nuff said.

10. He just wasn't the right guy for you. No, he wasn't. Thanks for pointing out the obvious. Please twist the knife he left in my back a little more, and when you're done, please store it in your foot.

11. Well, when my boyfriend and I first got together… I'm happy for you....what's your point? The fact that YOU are married doesn't indicate anything about my future or vocation.

12. When the time is right, you will meet someone.  I totally agree, and some of us met Him when we were Baptized, but it's taking us a very long time to accept His proposal...if He's actually making one. (That's the hard part.)

13. Wow, I wish I were single and in your shoes!  Maybe you should take your shoe obsession to therapy and spend more time with your husband and less time shopping for shoes that will cause you back problems in old age.  Believe me; if they don't fit me, they won't fit you.

14. Your turn next [at weddings]. Stop patronizing me. The fact that I attend a wedding should not be taken as commentary on my alleged desire to be wearing frosting in a liturgical celebration.

15. It will happen when you least expect it. Um...I'm so totally over this it's not even funny. I'm not expecting or looking for it. I've already made a vocational decision, and marriage is not on the list.

16. Some guy is going to come along and ruin your career/life plans. Yeah. I used to hear this one when I was a teen, and actually, it led me astray. Yeah, guys came and they went, and yes, they did ruin my life plans. But I can't blame them: I blame myself for being an idiot and leaving logic at the door. This is perhaps the single most murderous philosophy of the modern age.

17. But you're so pretty! Why don't you have a boyfriend? Seriously? Do I need to dignify that with an answer? REALLY?

18. It just wasn't meant to be.  No, it wasn't. I totally agree.

19. Sure, my guy rescues kids from abusive homes, donated my sister a kidney, and picks up fresh flowers for me daily on his way home from work, but will he QUIT IT with the sports on TV already?  Um...this is just stupid. Stop pretending to be feeling guilty around your single friends. We are not offended by the fact that you are called to the beautiful Vocation of Marriage. Petty complaints only make you look pathetic...they do nothing other than make we singles roll our eyes at your own rejection of the happiness you should be embracing!

All of the above is tongue-in-cheek, both on part of the article and in my own purposefully-snarky responses. 

I admit I'm writing out of a bit of frustration.

I'm sick of people randomly telling me that "the right guy will come along", and they all seem to have a tone of pity in their voices. To them I say that, no, the "right guy" ISN'T going to "come along", and I don't need any pity because, well...I'm not looking for him or expecting him. I haven't for years.
.
So many people, to include actual practicing Catholics, assume that I'm suffering as a result of my unmarried status. Many of them don't even realize that there are other options out there.

The constant challenges to my marital status have become so prolific that instead of remaining silent and rolling my eyes while smiling at people's "suggestions" that I be set up with this or that guy, I have begun to hit the questions head-on. I have decided that it's much better to be honest and just state that I'm not interested, not looking, and in fact, God has not called me to Marriage.

Often I wish I had a camera set up to capture the reactions. Yes, it does appeal to my sense of mischief, but I am not the only single woman to do and experience this admittedly unholy conundrum.

So, in answer to all the above questions and those implied by them: 

 Yes, I am Single. No, I am not languishing. No, I am not going to get married. Ever. Yes, I'm fine with that. Yes, I love men and am attracted to men, I have simply chosen to be celibate. Yes, I am offended by the implication that my celibacy implies mental and physiological disorder and wonder how you would feel if I inquired about your alleged vaginisimus or erectile dysfunction?

Oh, I'm sorry. Have I crossed a line by inquiring into your married sex life?  How is that different from questioning my striving to be chaste?

I have to say that I am tired of experiencing the pity of people who think that I suffer because I don't wear a ring on my finger. Quite honestly, I'm sick of being the object of pity and sadly clucking tongues belonging to people who would do better to learn about what's really going on the Church as a whole as opposed to spreading and commenting on the latest inaccurate gossip in their limited social circle

My friends, we need to do more to promote Vocations within the Church. Many of the faithful, far TOO MANY aren't aware that Vocations are exploding, that there ARE options beyond marriage, and good Catholic women are being called!

I may not yet know my place on this pilgrimage, but I am happy with the knowledge that at least I have begun to own it. I know what I am NOT called to be, and this frees me to embrace the other open options. I don't have to look over my shoulder wondering about "what could have been." I've been down that road; I know it has nothing for me.

My sights, and my sails, are pointed to Christ. Perhaps I knew a few years ago where I was headed as I held up every eligible man I met to the image of Christ...and saw that none of them would ever hold a candle to Him. None of them would ever die for me. None of them would remember me once I was out of their sight and actually...I wouldn't remember them, either.

But I couldn't forget Jesus. I couldn't forget Our Lord.

I couldn't let go of Him.

Yes, I am single. I have not yet found the form of Consecration to which I have been Called, but I know that it's there...and that is enough for me.

The pilgrimage goes on...


*This Snark has been brought to you by Adoro te Devote. Any resemblance to real persons or events is purely coincidental or entirely purposeful. May be too intense for some readers. Not responsible for direct, indirect, consequential or or incidental damages resulting from misunderstanding of original intention. Objects in mirror may be closer than they appear. May contain nuts.* 

To What Do We Agree?

In the last couple years, I have received a great deal of help in both large and small things, from both people I know and people I've never met.

And in that time, I've reflected on the generosity and love of such people, which has made me also reflect on my own lack of generosity, or my own lack of helpfulness to others. I've mentioned before that I'm often lacking in the "hands-on" form of charity, at least, in my estimation. I also realize we are all called to different things at different times. As members of the Mystical Body of Christ, we all must fulfill our roles, none of which excludes the others, but rather, incorporates them while maybe one particular portion is what we have been designed to complete.

Lately this has been my struggle. I have one co-worker who is very service-oriented, and I used to be as well. But my life has pulled me into more of a contemplative stream, one involving more prayer and study than actual hands-on service. It makes me feel guilty. I have to keep reminding myself that the time may come where literally feeding the poor in homeless shelters might be my role, and of course, I would love it. Or maybe it'll be caring for the sick and injured.

Or maybe I'm already fulfilling that role, in caring for the spiritually poor, which is the REAL deficit of our nation. Of all nations. Ever since I added the widget to my sidebar and have seen all the people from all the different nations who have passed through my blog at one point or another, I've realized that I'm fulfilling the command of Christ as He ascended into Heaven: to preach the Gospel to all Nations.

As Catholics, that is our command, and we all do this in different ways, according to the gifts we have been given. Everything we do should be ordered towards spreading the Gospel. Perhaps we're not well versed in the Faith, but know Christ enough to act in love and maintain a strong moral stance as an example to others. Maybe we don't have the words to preach, but we have the hands, and we have our very lives to lay down as an example to others who may ridicule what we say, but can't ridicule the joy of our lives and our hopes. And in that, there is a door opened through which they may enter.

Several years ago, a friend of mine and I were discussing the lack of morality around us. Neither of us were exactly living moral lives ourselves, and we regretted our actions. My friend, after a long pause in our conversation, said to me, "Once you've said "yes" to one guy, it's harder to say "no" to someone else."

It had to do with a loss of moral ground. A loss of dignity. From the other side, a judgment of a lack of fairness: "You're not a virgin. You slept with that other guy, what's wrong with me that you won't do the same thing with me? It's not like it means anything!"

And yet, it does, and we all know it. My friend knew it, and she carried her warning with her. Once we've compromised by saying "yes" to the wrong thing, it's harder to fight in the right battle. One becomes disoriented, unable to truly discern any longer, especially when the culture around us all defines certain behaviors as proper, even as our souls scream at us to stop for a moment and reconsider. To use our intellect and wills, to look upwards towards what is good, to flee from what is only debasement and injury.

Jesus Himself tells us to make our "yes" mean "yes", and our "no" mean "no". There is no middle ground; not in oaths, not in our moral choices. In everything we do, even in the small things, there's an absolute. A small compromise here leads to a larger compromise there. A strong stance here becomes a stronger, more fortified stance there.

We see this in many ways. Recently I observed to a friend that sometimes it's hard to step out and help another person, especially a stranger. But we can be safe about it, and truly, once we are willing to break out of our self-absorbed bubble on behalf of someone else, it is easier the next time. Once we say "yes" to the right things, it's as though the wind fills our sails and helps us to engage more quickly, and with more confidence the next time someone around us needs our charity.

The converse is also true; when we say "no" to someone, it becomes easier to say "no" again and again to the needs of others, and in that process, our hearts become more hardened. That's what happened to the Israelites in Isaiah; they said "no" to God, and as a consequence, their hearts were hardened. They had free will; they chose to disengage from their relationship with The Lord. And because of their willing rejection, they continued to reject all the blessings that came their way.

Nothing has changed; we still have this same nature. We tend to say "yes" to the things that debase us, and "no" to the things that make us holy. We are prideful if we go about "helping" others, but don't see the moral poverty that we must address, and so what do our good works mean if they are divorced from the morality and holiness that should be driving all of it?

So it happens that when we give our acquiescence to the wrong things, we end up giving obesience to even more things, until we are slaves of the world rather than lovers of God.

But when we give our obedience and love to our Lord, we are lead into active accord with not only charity to our neighbor in whatever form is needed, but to a higher morality that seeks to elevate the sinner towards God and out of the mire rather than to tell the sinner (ourselves, mostly) that the mire is actually a "good".

God is not a gray object. He desires that we are clear in our intent, one way or another. A "yes" to Him is a clear "no" to the winds of fickle popular culture. A "no" to an immoral act is automatically a "yes" to the Most High and His love.

We must be clear in everything that we do, at every moment, surrendering to God in even the smallest things. It is the smallest sins that lead us to the bigger ones that rupture our relationship with God.

To what, then, are we giving our agreement every day? To things that are holy, or to things that debase us?

We must choose. We must examine ourselves.

What do YOU choose today?
*

The Eyes of a Child...The Eyes of an Offender

I’ll never forget his eyes, how they hid in his teen face, still childlike, terrified, questioning, and in complete agony. His hands were shaking as he spoke, seeming to transfer the fear to his very voice, which also shook. He was a nervous kid, from my observation, and found it difficult to relate to anyone.

That evening I was assigned as his “One to One”, a Staff person assigned to a patient who was in need of extra supervision. He was a fairly new patient so we were on a locked unit. At the time, we were in his room, with the door open according to policy. Also according to policy, I could not be outside of an arm’s length from him. The only time he could be alone was in the bathroom. At the end of this conversation, a male staff would be assigned to him as he’d no longer be able to go into even the bathroom by himself.

Troy* had accepted my presence with docility, and seemed to be a nice kid. He was soft-spoken, with a willowy stature that promised to eventually make him a tall man. At the time, he was maybe 15, maybe a little younger. His pimpled face betrayed his adolescence, while his eyes seemed both very old and very young all at once. Although I’d been working there for a couple years and knew most of our patients had experienced agonies the average person couldn’t even imagine, I’d never seen such pain before. It was almost hypnotizing.

As he was a new patient, and given his mild manners, I wondered how the other patients would accept him. Troy didn’t seem strong enough to stand up for himself. Guaranteed he’d be bullied, and if he wasn’t, he’d be one taken in by the bullies and “converted” to their ways. He seemed ready to conform to whatever the place had to throw at him, just as a form of passive survival. Troy was a wounded creature, and I was about to find out just how wounded.

I knew some; he had been abused and he must be an abuser because he was not allowed off the unit or near the children’s ward. He was a risk to himself and to others, although they weren’t sure in what ways, exactly, which is why I (and other staff on other shifts were assigned to him.)

Troy asked to speak to me in his room, and acknowledged the need to have the door open. He also knew that whatever he told me would be reported; this boy knew the system. I was on my guard, but he did seem sincere. He was near tears and the shaking in his hands became more pronounced. But I told him he could speak to me and I would listen.

He sat at the foot of his bed. I sat on the other, which was not assigned to any other patient. Consistent with the rules, I was in sight of the doorway and within an arm’s reach; the building was constructed with this in mind. I had a radio on my hip, out of his immediate reach, and the other staff on the unit knew we were there. Yet they could not hear what was said, so Troy could speak as though in confidence even though he knew I’d be making a record.

Troy told me, haltingly, that he’d been abused…sexually. Severely. He didn’t get graphic, but the shame was evident. He had told this story before and knew that we were aware of it, so he didn’t need to provide details. He even verified that I knew and seemed to take comfort that I did; for that way, he didn’t have to reveal the worst details. But that’s not why he wanted to talk. He seemed to want to lift a weight from his shoulders and reveal who he really was. He told me how awful the abuse was, how it made him feel, and how it made him want to die. But as he got older, he found himself with other kids, and he started doing the same things, compelled to do so. He hated himself for doing it, and even more, wanted to die. He knew he was making those kids feel like he had felt and STILL felt.

He had nightmares of jumping through windows, of hanging himself, slitting his wrists…everything. And he wanted to follow through. He wanted to die. He’d rather die than ever abuse another kid. He wanted his compulsion to end. And he would kill himself if he got the chance. Troy didn’t want sympathy; he wanted to be condemned and he wanted to die as quickly as possible and felt he deserved it. He said he knew he didn’t deserve to be abused and neither did his victims.

He was just a kid…and when his eyes met mine, they were direct; he meant what he said, every word.

Torn

I didn’t say a word as he spoke. I wasn’t surprised by what I heard, although I was moved. I knew I was sympathizing with a sex offender, but he was a sex offender who was still a child. He was both adult and child in the same person, and all I could see was his humanity.

He wasn’t a danger to anyone at the moment; he was on a locked unit and he was there for help, admittedly help he didn’t want for he thought his help could be found on the edge of a razor or in the barrel of a loaded gun.

I thanked Troy for speaking with me and telling me what he was thinking. I asked him if he realized what I had to do; he did. He would not be allowed to go to the bathroom alone, he would have someone within an arm’s length for as long as the powers that be decided. But he said he was glad he had spoken. Troy went with me willingly to the supervisor’s office to obtain the orders necessary to protect him.

To this day, when I learn of sex offenders, I am torn. On one hand, I think they are vile, they are evil, they should not be suffered to live. There are too many horrifying stories of lives destroyed and of brutal murders. And I worked with so many victims of those offenders; children…just children. Then, I remember Troy, his dark eyes anguished, both adult and child, and I realize that EVERY sex offender was once a child, and they and Troy share the same eyes.

I can’t divorce the humanity of the offenders from their offense. I don’t sympathize with their crimes, only their humanity. They were children once, too. They were abused, they were terrified, they were alone and they were destroyed. It was their destruction that created monsters they became. But within those monsters, there are still children that were so wounded they could never overcome the injuries.

And yet...others suffer because of them. Excruciatingly. Lives are destroyed.

Of those offenders that are not violent in the bloody sense, their actions are still violent given what they do the heart and soul of another. Some of them hate themselves, and still, there is no treatment.

I remain torn when it comes to the issue of sex offenders. People need to be protected from them, and thus, they must be isolated from the ability to offend again. Yet, they are human beings, wounded souls more in need of mercy than many of us. Not all of them are psychopaths, and we pray that their victims don’t follow in their footsteps.

I believe in justice….strongly. In fact, I tend to align more with prosecution than with defense, if given a choice. When I considered going to Law School, I considered that if I pursued Criminal Law, which was the area of the greatest interest for me, I wanted to be a Prosecutor. What stopped me? I’d have to spend time working in Defense. I did not want to defend criminals.

Yet my very life brought me into the position of defending those who have committed the most heinous of crimes…this very post is an example.

I also believe in Mercy; for I have been the recipient of Mercy, over and over again. I still don’t deserve it. I have also been a victim of crime. Yet…there is no Justice without Mercy.

We all need to find the balance. We all need to be rational, look at facts, weigh them carefully…and then we have to be careful not to remove humanity from those facts. All of our judgments in life impact others.

Maybe I’m wrong in this philosophy. But whenever I think of justice and mercy, I remember Troy and realize that it’s only by God’s grace that I never went by the same route.

God have mercy on us all.
*




* Troy was a real boy but this is not his real name. Incidentally I don’t think I ever had a patient by that name.