FROM THE ARCHIVES
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Re: Maggie Gallagher
[Rod Dreher 03/15 01:09 PM]Maggie Gallagher writes: There is something movingly pathetic in watching the Drehers drive through different religious identities, for example, searching for one that "fits." Worshipping at a Lebanese Maronite (Catholic) Church, for example, because they like the taste of ancient tradition, even if they are neither Lebanese nor Maronite. Tradition itself becomes a kind of consumption item, to be produced and consumed by crunchy cons. This is really unfair, and I can't believe that Maggie, a fair-minded and careful writer, closely read what I wrote. Maggie writes as if we were trying on an exotic version of Catholicism for purely aesthetic reasons, but in fact we wanted a mass, and spiritual leadership, that was more traditional, because the tradition connected us to something real. The Roman rite parishes we had to choose from all, to one degree or another, threw away tradition. Are we to be blamed for trying to find, within the broader Catholic tradition, some way out of the dryness and alienation of Catholic parish life? This is what I actually wrote in the book about why we found refuge with the Maronites:It was an Eastern-rite parish, where the aesthetically rich, awe-filled fifth-century liturgy was celebrated partly in Aramaic, the language spoken by Jesus, and the priests wer edecidedly uninterested in trendiness. We couldn't take the smarmy, white-bread, middle-class American masses at the Roman-rite parishes around us, where the liturgies were washed out and banal, and the moral and theological grandeur of the historical Christian faith was discarded in favor of a piety that demanded no more of you than that you feel good about yourself. This was a form of Catholic Christianity that demanded more from us, and because of that, it was more rewarding. And it seemed so much more solid than Our Lady of What's Happening Now around the corner, where the priests embarrassed themselves trying to be hip and relevant.
The key thing is, we didn't become members of Our Lady of Lebanon parish because it sounded like a neat experiment in religious tourism.
We did so because we are conservative Catholics, and we were hungry for worship in a parish where we could find the real, deal, be it in English, Latin or Aramaic.If Maggie is fortunate enough to have a Catholic parish where she is spiritually fed, then, woo for her.
She writes: A true traditionalism would not be represented by people who move to Dallas, buy a nice bungalow and invite friends over for tasty organic cooked food. It would be led by people who advocate returning to the place you were born, where your kith and kin also live, because that is really where you belong, the thing in which your very self is rooted. What could she possibly be talking about? As people who actually read, instead of skim, my book know, one reason we moved to Dallas from New York City is because this is where my wife is from! We wanted to get closer to family (my Louisiana family is now within driving distance; Julie's family lives here), and to the culture where our politically and religiously conservative values are more common. As for our "nice bungalow," it's a small house we bought for a song because it's situated close enough to a bad neighborhood that we can hear gunshots not too many blocks away some nights. Before the previous owner renovated it, the last tenant was a junkie who slept on the front porch, and who would leave his needles in the front yard, according to our neighbors. But: this is a beautiful little house, and I can be home from work at night in 12 minutes to see my boys before bedtime.
This, from Maggie, is a useful insight: "This the pathos of American
traditionalism: They have to create their own."
Well, yeah, but what else are you offering, Maggie? Opening cans of food and microwaving them because that's what Mom did? Enduring banal liturgies and ugly hymns when something richer, deeper and older is available, only because hey, that's the "tradition" handed down to us from the 1960s? Is there room at the great conservative table for people who love God, family, Arts and Crafts architecture, ancient liturgy, Birkenstocks and organic chickens?
Sure, Rod, I'll dine with you anytime. But is this really a very important question? Is what really a very important question? God? Family? Architecture? Liturgy? Birkenstocks? Organic chickens (which I understand to mean "the kind of food we eat")? No, Maggie, footwear is not an important question, and people who actually read my book know that I don't make an issue of it, except as an example of how I let a silly cultural prejudice against a brand of shoes keep me from trying out a product that has given me good service. So okay, footwear is not important. But all the rest of it, yeah, it's important.
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