The difficulty of diversity

R and I have been talking about St. Adelaide the Righteous’ schooling for this coming year. She’ll be entering Kindergarten, so we’re faced with that age-old and probably over-debated question of public vs. private. I’m not in the mood to discourse eloquently on the topic of public school education, being New Years’ moody and horrifically glued to the news from Gaza. And so we poll.

1. Her private, church-based preschool has a K class, after which we’d still be faced with the same decision. Pros: she knows everyone, we’ve had a positive experience there, we are well known by the administration. Cons: cost (not too bad at around $200 a month), at the end of 2009 we’d still have a decision to make, the student population is fairly white-bread homogeneous.

2. Public. Although the system for our county is one of the best in the state, the particular school to which she’d be assigned is less so. Pros: diversity, continuity in future years, closeness to our house, bus service. Cons: the school has a poverty level of 76% and almost half of the students don’t speak English.

3. Private A: Faith-based school which I attended through HS. Pros: private education, small classes, high parent involvement. Cons: prohibitive pricing (around $1000/month for K, rises from there), the homogeneity that characterizes such institutions, fairly straight-laced philosophy.

4. Private B: Catholic private school fairly close to home. R is Catholic, so this option appeals to him, though he’s wanting the best option for St. A, regardless of where it may be. Pros: small, private, high parent involvement. Cons: lack of diversity, cost- though not as much as Private A, it’s more than Option 1. Potential of hearing nun jokes for the rest of her life (that might be a pro…).

Any thoughts? What are your considerations for your child’s education?

I KNEW I was feeling a little old school…

You’re St. Jerome! You’re a passionate Christian, fiercely devoted to Jesus Christ and his Church. You are willing to labor long hours in the Lord’s vineyard, and you have little patience with those who are less willing or able to work as you do. Your passions often carry you into temptation zones of wrath, lust, and pride. Find out which Church Father you are at The Way of the Fathers!

(Un)Equally yoked

In my conversations with Kate, over at Momopoly, I’ve been thinking a great deal about mixed marriage, about living the life divided. I’ve blogged about it before, here and here and here if you’d like to read my journey.

Just defining mixed marriage can be somewhat of a challenge, and depends on your perspective (as with many things). Online definitions as well as the layman on the street would likely define it as a marriage between two races or cultures, i.e., black+ white, Indian + Chinese. In the most general terms, “mixed marriage” refers to a union of two very disparate things: apples and oranges, so to speak. Something that works, but only just. And if it works, it’s a miracle that it does.

Speaking from a faith standpoint, the picture changes- the term can refer to, depending on the authority, anything from Catholic+non-Catholic to Jewish+Christian. For clarity’s sake, I would refer to these unions as “interfaith” rather than “mixed”. The Catholic Encyclopedia adequately expresses the viewpoint of the Church (warning to Protestants, not a pretty picture), noting that the term has been used for both Catholic+Christian and Catholic+”infidel”. This site also decries the danger of “perversion” when the couple is Catholic+Protestant. Yikes.

 While certainly it might be easier to marry someone of the same ilk, it doesn’t obviate the need for information and guidance for those of us who find ourselves in the situation. I’m seeing a huge gap in both Catholic and Protestant resources and teachings on the issue…where are the books, the websites, where is the counsel for the mixed couple? Better yet, where is the unbiased information of this kind? I can understand the gap in Catholic teaching (after all, we’re probably easier to ignore), but even in Protestant circles I see very little engagement with the issue. While “unequally yoked” may be the cry for future couples, it doesn’t deal with the situation for those of us who are already here. And in an increasingly global culture, we may want to start dealing with the issue.

I mentioned this to my dad, who’s a pastor. His response was, “who would publish books like that?” And he has a point. Certainly not the Catholic church. The advice of both priests we consulted was “convert her”. Maybe an Evangelical in collaboration with a Catholic could write something useful? I would love to see that book. If it exists, let me know.

What I want to explore is how to live when you both  have strong belief systems. What happens when you are equally yoked- equally convinced that your tradition is correct, equally strong in your faith convictions, equally intelligent and educated? It seems to be a tightrope act quite difficult to manage. Even when you have the talent for tolerance, it’s a struggle.  It’s a daily openness to hearing their side, without feeling attacked. A daily conversation, not only about differences, but about the points of commonality. A daily leaning on each other, on what holds you together, on the love you share and the family you build. And that’s not too different from a non-mixed marriage, is it now?

One long Ave Maria

Before I married, while R and I were still “courting”, someone who I respect greatly said to me, “You know, if you marry him, your life is going to be one long Ave Maria.”

A little background, in case you’re new to the blog- my husband and I follow different (Christian) traditions. He is Catholic, I am what is technically called reformed Evangelical (Protestant). Some people see these positions as exclusive. I prefer to view them as parallel. So, depending on your tradition, the title of this post immediately conjured up either warm fuzzies or an inadvertent grimace.

In Catholic practice, the Ave Maria (or Hail Mary) is a prayer echoing the words of the angel to Mary, upon the Annunciation (the Biblical equivalent of the little pink line on the dipstick). Normally used during rosary praying, the words basically ask Mary to intercede for us (“now and at the hour of our death”). The Catholic practice uses the beads of a rosary to count the number of times one repeats the prayer, while simultaneously meditating on the “mysteries” (or events) of Jesus’ life. I am told the practice of repeating the prayer over and over frees the mind from the things of the earth and focuses the consciousness on meditating, and that it’s a way to “accompany” Christ through the major events of His life.

In retrospect, I can’t say that my life has ever been a “Hail Mary”. I don’t live surrounded by icons, I don’t cross myself after I pray, and the only rosary we have hangs from my husband’s rearview mirror. A good (Protestant) friend has a delicate golden rosary that she wears, a gift from her (sweet but totally clueless) father. Rather than use it as a prayer object, it has meaning for her beyond the original, intended one. And I think that’s as far as a rosary can go for me, too. They are lovely objects, some delicate like E’s, some huge, wooden and cumbersome, like the ones I saw in our recent trip to a monastery gift store. They are by far the image associated with Catholicism, at least in my neck of the woods. If you don’t want to do the rearview mirror thing, there are always these.

And the accompanying prayer? I haven’t ever prayed the Ave Maria, since most Protestants don’t go in for the whole praying-to(or through)-anyone-other-than-God thing. I may have prayed it inadvertently as I sang along to Schubert’s classic version. I understand it (as much as an outside observer can really understand things of another faith), though I don’t go in for it. Is it helpful/meaningful/moving to Catholics? The “average” Catholic would say sure. My husband does pray it, as he has mentioned to me, though never with me looking on. Prayer can be, after all, a highly personal thing.

Is my life, then, “one long Hail Mary”? I hope not. I do hope it’s a prayer- thoughtful, discerning, and always open to the work of Christ. I hope that my every action, every day, is a prayer, even down to typing on my blog . Maybe not “Ave Maria, gratia plena”. Maybe one long Gloria Patri.

World without end.

Oikoumene

One of the things I am fond of blurting out to the amazed faces I get when people find out that my husband and I are a mixed marriage is this: “Well, I never believed in ecumenism before!” (Ha, ha, chuckle, chuckle). For most of my young life I imagined growing up and finding a nice, evangelical “spiritual leader” who would make my knees melt, court me incessantly (but purely) with my parents’ consent, and marry me in a modest ceremony filled with froth and bubbles.

Not so much.

Kind of funny how both expectations and reality change. Instead of the prototypical Protestant “nice young man” (i.e., listener of alterna-rock Christian music, fond of coffeehouses in which he read Thomas a Kempis and Jonathan Edwards, perhaps a goatee?), I got a Catholic one. Knees melted aplenty, but the romance was far from idyllic. He crossed himself after we prayed at dinner. Some evenings I couldn’t reach him on the phone because he was at mass. When he attended my church, he let the communion plate pass, even as my (DAD) pastor nodded that it was OK. I found myself glancing furtively around on more than one occasion, to read peoples’ reactions. I never worried about my own reaction, or analyzed it any further than to determine that I was OK with “the whole Catholic thing”…but what about everyone else?

Ecumenism suggests dialogue, cooperation, or even “communion” between two traditions, usually Christian traditions. It has been the dream of many a theologian, philosopher, and faithful over the centuries, who, seeing such deep divisions in the faith, longs to bring people into one body to worship and serve Christ. Some see ecumenism as a “glossing over” of theological differences, or a lessening somehow of the truth, as in, “we can only be united if you think the way I do” (c.f. The Jeremiah Project).

I think there are several things to think about in discussing ecumenism (and I in no way have come to any conclusions, even in discerning the relative value of ecumenism itself). First and foremost, then:

What’s the point? What’s the eventual goal of ecumenical dialogue, or communication and conversation between the traditions? The Catholic church has traditionally held that ecumenism only is possible with a “change of heart” (Ut Unum Sint). I’m with them on this one. There are hundreds of years of hurtful history to contend with, and approaching ecumenism from any angle necessitates a real reliance on the healing work of Christ in our lives. Unfortunately, ecumenism too often translates to: “come back over to OUR side, accept the faith as taught by the Catholic Church”. In this sense, ecumenism=evangelization. While this may be a worthy goal in Catholic eyes, it’s hardly going to “win friends and influence people”, especially when done with what I call the “college professor” attitude- “Once you know enough/study enough/read enough, you’ll realize I’m right”. And (hold on, hold on) this attitude is very common in Protestant apologetics, as well.

Put into the perspective of a marriage (remember? where we started?), the goal is easy to define- to build a family together, in love and peace. At least, that’s my starting point. Is it possible that this, perhaps, can also be the goal of ecumenism on a larger scale- building a family of believers in Christ, in love and peace?

Hmmmmm…..