If you know me at all, you probably know that I am a goal-oriented "to-do-lister." (It all goes back to middle school leadership development classes... don't ask.) So, last fall, when Adam and I started talking about getting married, I sat down and made a list of "pre-wedding goals." Most of them are fairly reasonable. Get in better shape. Learn to make a loaf of homemade bread. Adam is in favor of these. But he gave me no end of flack for one of my biggest and most difficult self-set tasks: make a another female friend who likes me well enough she would come to my wedding if she could.
So what if it sounds like a silly or self-depricating goal? It doesn't make it any less of a challenge for me.
I can't remember a time in my early life when I haven't had more guy friends than girl friends. Men have always just seemed easier to understand, to get along with. Girls are tough. I'm dreadfully insensitive. And at my worst, my overpowering personality tends to make other women tense, antagonistic, or withdrawn. To make matters worse, it took me years to learn to respect myself as a woman, and therefore other women for what they shared in common with me. It's my fault, not the fault of the entire sex--but it's still a terrible and lamentable weakness.
My time at Brookewood was (and hopefully will be again) an amazing step forward. There, I was in an all-girl environment where feminine virtue was encouraged and praised. And the months I spent in Seattle with the Matilda girls showed me a picture of truly holy living in a uniquely feminine vein. So, hopefully I've come along way.
The real blessing, though, has been here in Oxford. There are many amazing women in my course, in the Chaplaincy, and in my college. Most of them seem really comfortable with who they are in exciting ways. I'm honored to consider them my colleagues... and my friends.
But the biggest surprise has been two friendships I've developed with an sweet English lawyer and a Californian medievalist. I really wasn't sure I was capable of meaningful, feminine relationships with other women. It has been an amazing gift to get to know them. They've both been extremely generous with their time and forgiving of my faults.
Best of all? I've got one earnestly-desired visit and one new wedding guest.
Saturday, February 28, 2009
Thursday, February 26, 2009
Marriage in Song: "Ob-La-Di, Ob-La-Da"
During my daily workout routine this morning (yes... I know), my iTunes decided to give me a real treat: it randomly shuffled to "Ob-La-Di, Ob-La-Da" from the perennially-fantastic "White Album" by the Beatles. It must have been years since I heard the song and, like most things that have been in my life that long, suddenly took on new meaning in the light of my upcoming marriage. I'd never realized that, in its way, the song captures a very nice image of married life.
In the song,
The verse tune and chorus repeat. Desmond decides to buy Molly a ring. She accepts and sings the chorus again in her joy.
As a child, it was really the bridge and final verses of the song that always enchanted me the most:
That's the image of marriage I found (find) wonderful. Desmond and Molly don't give up their lives or their dreams for their children. Neither do they neglect their children and pursue their own selfish ends. Their lives go on--they just bring their children into their lives. They introduce their children into the world, interacting together in it as a family.
Of course, this kind of balance must be much harder than I think it is. My parents managed amazingly well, but I think it takes a community of other families who want the same things you do. You must need people nearby who will come over to dinner and not mind crying babies, whose driveways need shoveling by your teenage son, and whose hand-me-down dresses your youngest daughter craves. A community of people who help and need each other really seems vital for human happiness. As you may already know, the search for this kind of community is a part of the reason Adam and I are moving to DC. We want to be a part of a community now that will grow together as our families grow, to start lives we can bring our children into. Desmond and Molly had lives they loved--that's why the children could lend a hand and their lives w
As an adult, I am more struck by the song's chorus. "Ob-la-di, ob-la-da" apparently means "life goes on"--or at least Paul McCartney claimed. It's an interesting sentiment for a young woman in love, excitedly accepting an engagement ring. Surprisingly stoic, perhaps--but also surpringly realistic. As best I can tell, life just does go on, even after marriage. Work won't stop. Laundry will still pile up. You and your fiance/spouse will never stop having occassional problems. But good things go on, too: blooming flowers will still be beautiful, Adam and I will still love each other, and God will still be good. As Molly wisely points out, "life goes on" in many ways.
For someone like me, always waiting for the next big stage of my life to begin, the "Ob-la-di" attitude is really a powerful reminder. Life isn't about the next big thing: it's about right now. I've had some amazing experiences in life, but it's sometimes a struggle to enjoy them more than the expectation of what comes next... writing 14,000 words in the next four weeks with the promise of marriage on the horizon, for example...
So, more and more, I'm trying to teach myself to expect my life to go on once I get married and once (God-willing) we start a family. I will never have a healty attitude towards marriage and children if I don't learn to take life the way it is, right now. Or, as Sir Paul so elegantly worded it...
"And if you want some fun...take Ob-la-di-bla-da!"
My childhood visions of marriage aren't limited to close-reading the Beatles. I hope to post more of the same on other songs during the next few months.
In the song,
Desmond has his barrow in the market place.
Molly is the singer in a band.
Desmond says to Molly "Girl, I like your face."
And Molly says this as she takes him by the hand,
"Ob-la-di, ob-la-da, life goes on, brah!
Lala how the life goes on."
The verse tune and chorus repeat. Desmond decides to buy Molly a ring. She accepts and sings the chorus again in her joy.
As a child, it was really the bridge and final verses of the song that always enchanted me the most:
In a couple of years they have built a home sweet home,And then the song goes back to the verse structure. That's it. A blip and their lives are back to normal--same chorus, but with a modified verse:
With a couple of kids running in the yard,
Of Desmond and Molly Jones... (Ha ha ha ha ha)
Happy ever after in the market place.
Desmond lets the children lend a hand.
Molly stays at home and does her pretty face
And in the evening she still sings it with the band.
Ob-la-di, ob-la-da, life goes on, brah!
Lala how the life goes on.
Ob-la-di, ob-la-da, life goes on, brah!
Lala how the life goes on.
That's the image of marriage I found (find) wonderful. Desmond and Molly don't give up their lives or their dreams for their children. Neither do they neglect their children and pursue their own selfish ends. Their lives go on--they just bring their children into their lives. They introduce their children into the world, interacting together in it as a family.
Of course, this kind of balance must be much harder than I think it is. My parents managed amazingly well, but I think it takes a community of other families who want the same things you do. You must need people nearby who will come over to dinner and not mind crying babies, whose driveways need shoveling by your teenage son, and whose hand-me-down dresses your youngest daughter craves. A community of people who help and need each other really seems vital for human happiness. As you may already know, the search for this kind of community is a part of the reason Adam and I are moving to DC. We want to be a part of a community now that will grow together as our families grow, to start lives we can bring our children into. Desmond and Molly had lives they loved--that's why the children could lend a hand and their lives w
As an adult, I am more struck by the song's chorus. "Ob-la-di, ob-la-da" apparently means "life goes on"--or at least Paul McCartney claimed. It's an interesting sentiment for a young woman in love, excitedly accepting an engagement ring. Surprisingly stoic, perhaps--but also surpringly realistic. As best I can tell, life just does go on, even after marriage. Work won't stop. Laundry will still pile up. You and your fiance/spouse will never stop having occassional problems. But good things go on, too: blooming flowers will still be beautiful, Adam and I will still love each other, and God will still be good. As Molly wisely points out, "life goes on" in many ways.
For someone like me, always waiting for the next big stage of my life to begin, the "Ob-la-di" attitude is really a powerful reminder. Life isn't about the next big thing: it's about right now. I've had some amazing experiences in life, but it's sometimes a struggle to enjoy them more than the expectation of what comes next... writing 14,000 words in the next four weeks with the promise of marriage on the horizon, for example...
So, more and more, I'm trying to teach myself to expect my life to go on once I get married and once (God-willing) we start a family. I will never have a healty attitude towards marriage and children if I don't learn to take life the way it is, right now. Or, as Sir Paul so elegantly worded it...
"And if you want some fun...take Ob-la-di-bla-da!"
My childhood visions of marriage aren't limited to close-reading the Beatles. I hope to post more of the same on other songs during the next few months.
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
Another Medieval Wedding Night
Again, I hope I'm not scandalizing anyone. But I'm really struck by these beautiful, and often subtle, descriptions. The story of Havelock the Dane survives in an English Romance, Havelok the Dane, and a French lai, Lai d'Haveloc. Havelock is the rightful heir to the Danish throne. However, his father is murdered and he has to be secreted out of the country before he can be executed. Although he takes up a place as a scullion, he grows up to be a strong, honorable man--what else could he do, being of royal blood? And just to prove he is royal , every night when he goes to sleep, a flame rises from his mouth due to the "excess heat" of his body. In the French version, Havelock's kindness and willingness to please makes the unknown kitchen servant a laughing stock. A dishonest steward marries the heir to the English throne to him to embarass her. She's now the queen of the cooking pots, he says. I really love the description of their wedding night:
I'm quoting from Judith Weiss's anthology, The Birth of Romance. You can also read more about Havelock in Middle English Verse Romances.
To disgrace and dishonour her, Edelsi [the steward] made her sleep with him that night. When they were both brought to bed, she felt greatly ashamed of him, and he much more so for her [i.e. "on her behalf," not ashamed of her]. He lay down and went to sleep; he did not want her to see the flame that issued from him.The story goes on:
But later they trusted each other so much, from words and looks, that he loved her and lay with her, as he should have done with his wife.In a genre largely regarded as sexist, dominated by domineering men, we have a poignant account of two shy people too embarrassed to consumate their marriage. Even though they're wed, they wait until their in love before they join each other as man and wife. He has to learn self-confidence; and she has to learn to like him for who he is. I think that's very beautiful.
I'm quoting from Judith Weiss's anthology, The Birth of Romance. You can also read more about Havelock in Middle English Verse Romances.
Our Readings: The New Testament
This is part three out of (presumably) four about the readings Adam and I have chosen for our wedding. You can read about our Old Testament and Psalm readings in the archives.
The New Testament has a huge number of readings about wedding. Still, it's amazing how difficult it is to choose one that's neither such a cliché it would be meaningless at a wedding--or that, read out of context, seems sexist to modern ears.
Adam and I finally settled on the last chapter of Hebrews:
As I've spoken about before, Adam and I wanted to choose readings that would challenge us on entering into our married lives. This reading is a perfect description of the home Adam and I want to share with each other, and eventually with a family: hospitable, charitable, holy, generous, and unafraid.
The New Testament has a huge number of readings about wedding. Still, it's amazing how difficult it is to choose one that's neither such a cliché it would be meaningless at a wedding--or that, read out of context, seems sexist to modern ears.
Adam and I finally settled on the last chapter of Hebrews:
Let mutual love continue. Do not neglect hospitality, for through it some have unknowingly entertained angels. Be mindful of prisoners as if sharing their imprisonment, and of the ill-treated as of yourselves, for you also are in the body. Let marriage be honored among all and the marriage bed kept undefiled...Let your life be free from love of money but be content with what you have, for he has said, "I will never forsake you or abandon you." Thus we may say with confidence: "The Lord is my helper, [and] I will not be afraid."
As I've spoken about before, Adam and I wanted to choose readings that would challenge us on entering into our married lives. This reading is a perfect description of the home Adam and I want to share with each other, and eventually with a family: hospitable, charitable, holy, generous, and unafraid.
Monday, February 23, 2009
"Bride Alison"
One of the consequences of my five-year student life has been the creation of several different "versions" of Alison. There was the "DC Alison" who worked on the Hill, helped write speeches, and ran around feeling generally self-important. There was "Teacher Alison" who swung on the swing set and planned medieval fairs. They're both on hiatus, but there's still "FDW Alison" (who works as a mediocre, low-level office gopher for a high-class, high-pressure law firm) and "Graduate Student Alison" (who stares at centuries-old books and writes about them all day). Each existence has become almost discrete in my mind, like a being from another life--or another world.
In this context, being a bride-to-be has been especially bizarre. In Oxford, so far from the Adam and the family who will celebrate with me, it's hard to believe that "Bride Alison." "Oxford Alison" doesn't choose china patterns or shop for apartments--she spends five hours tracking the rhyme scheme of an obscure medieval saint's life. I love my life, but it feels like the life I love is so different than the one "Bride Alison" loves when she's talking to her mom or excitedly picking her flowers.
I guess I expected my engagement to be life changing in a way, I now see, it can't possibly be. "Bride Alison" was supposed to be the Alison that united everything, the one that superceded all the others. My expectation may be just another sign that I've bought into "wedding culture" all my life--I'm not sure that, if I were home, it wouldn't lead me to shop endlessly for the perfect dress or build my registry to several hundred gifts just to feel more like a bride.
My life probably won't change as much as I expect, even after my wedding. But at least I'll be something, someone, metaphysically different. Adam and I will be a sacramentally-bound couple, of one flesh. "Married Alison" is the one Alison I'll be forever, until death do us part.
In this context, being a bride-to-be has been especially bizarre. In Oxford, so far from the Adam and the family who will celebrate with me, it's hard to believe that "Bride Alison." "Oxford Alison" doesn't choose china patterns or shop for apartments--she spends five hours tracking the rhyme scheme of an obscure medieval saint's life. I love my life, but it feels like the life I love is so different than the one "Bride Alison" loves when she's talking to her mom or excitedly picking her flowers.
I guess I expected my engagement to be life changing in a way, I now see, it can't possibly be. "Bride Alison" was supposed to be the Alison that united everything, the one that superceded all the others. My expectation may be just another sign that I've bought into "wedding culture" all my life--I'm not sure that, if I were home, it wouldn't lead me to shop endlessly for the perfect dress or build my registry to several hundred gifts just to feel more like a bride.
My life probably won't change as much as I expect, even after my wedding. But at least I'll be something, someone, metaphysically different. Adam and I will be a sacramentally-bound couple, of one flesh. "Married Alison" is the one Alison I'll be forever, until death do us part.
Saturday, February 21, 2009
Medieval Wedding Nights
At the risk of sounding a bit risque, I've been struck by the beauty and discretion of a number of medieval romances and their accounts of a knight's first night with his lady. Erec and Enide itself has what I think is the most beautiful:
The sweetest part of the Erec and Enide account is the emphasis on waiting and anticipation. The deferment has made the reward far greater.
I'll keep my eye out for similiarly nice passages. Many of them, obviously, are about illicit liasons with lovers--not quite what I'm going for in a blog about marriage.
I quote Erec and Enide from Arthurian Romances by Chrétien de Troyes, translated by Carleton W. Carroll.
When they were left alone in the room, they paid homage to each member. The eyes, which channel love and send the message to the heart, renewed themselves with looking, for whatever they saw greatly pleased them. After the message from the eyes came the sweetness, worth far more, of the kisses that bring on love; they both sampled that sweetness and refreshed their hearts within, so that with great difficulty they drew apart. Kissing was their first game. The love between the two of them made the maiden more bold: she was not afraid of anything; she endured all, whatever the cost. Before she arose again, she had lost the name of maiden; in the morning she was a new lady.
The sweetest part of the Erec and Enide account is the emphasis on waiting and anticipation. The deferment has made the reward far greater.
I'll keep my eye out for similiarly nice passages. Many of them, obviously, are about illicit liasons with lovers--not quite what I'm going for in a blog about marriage.
I quote Erec and Enide from Arthurian Romances by Chrétien de Troyes, translated by Carleton W. Carroll.
Thursday, February 19, 2009
An Apology
I've noticed that my last few posts have been a little depressing. I know there aren't many people reading right now, but I feel that I ought to apologize to anyone who is.It has occurred to me that one way to brighten things up--and by things I may actually just mean my day--is to encouraged "Erec" to join me in posting. How about it, Adam? Interested in blogging about the experiences of getting married from a male perspective? I promise to make the website less pink.
Similarly, Enide's mom is also welcomed to join the flock. This is a growing experience for all of us!
If that doesn't work, at least a picture of Adam jousting in a cardboard box ought to topically lighten things up!
A Community of Our Own
A friend of mine founded a group at the Oxford University chaplaincy (i.e. my house) called "Catholicism and Economics." We're focused primarily on distributism, an economic idea that focuses on keeping things small and simple to increase human happiness. While the discussion of sweeping systematic change is interesting, I don't want to start a revolution. I just want to develop new tools and new ways of thinking for Adam and I to share a simple, happy, sustainable life together.
The past few weeks, we've been reading E. F. Shumacher's Small Is Beautiful. He focuses on how small, rural communities enrich people's lives. While I think he vilifies cities more than they deserve, I agree with his ideas about community. Namely, humans are happy with it and unhappy without it. As Aristotle observed, man is political--or else a madman or a superman.
The idea of community is one Adam and I have had to seriously consider over the past few months. His family is in Denver. He loves the city and his family, but he hasn't lived there since he was in middle school. Similarly, my family is in Atlanta. I love my family, but I
don't even like the city. Largely through my own fault, I don't have much of a community left there either.
Our other two options are a bit more promising. Adam lives now in Seattle. I lived there over the summer in a house named Matilda. Matilda gathers a community to herself in a truly amazing way. Not only are the people spectacular, but the city is amazingly beautiful. It also makes simple, sustainable living surprisingly easy.
We both went to undergrad at George Washington University in Washington, DC. Again, we have wonderful and supportive friends there. The city is also the site of vibrant, young Catholic culture. The school at which I'll be teaching, the Brookewood School, is full of spectacular, holy staff, students, and parents. Many of them have welcomed me--and Adam by extension--into their families. That's the kind of environment Adam and I both really seek for a happy and spiritually healthy workplace.
For now, Adam and I have decided that DC offers the best of all options. I have a job there that I love; he's got the possibility of doing work which is actually productive and truly rewarding. We're not all that far from my parents, when one compares it to the distance away I currently am; DC is actually only three hundred miles further from Denver than Seattle. And we have friends in DC, plus the strong potential for more, who really care about us. I can't say it was an easy decision, or that it will last forever, or even that we're sure it was the right one. But, for now, I'm very excited about being a part of a community a love while I start my new family.
The past few weeks, we've been reading E. F. Shumacher's Small Is Beautiful. He focuses on how small, rural communities enrich people's lives. While I think he vilifies cities more than they deserve, I agree with his ideas about community. Namely, humans are happy with it and unhappy without it. As Aristotle observed, man is political--or else a madman or a superman.
The idea of community is one Adam and I have had to seriously consider over the past few months. His family is in Denver. He loves the city and his family, but he hasn't lived there since he was in middle school. Similarly, my family is in Atlanta. I love my family, but I
don't even like the city. Largely through my own fault, I don't have much of a community left there either.Our other two options are a bit more promising. Adam lives now in Seattle. I lived there over the summer in a house named Matilda. Matilda gathers a community to herself in a truly amazing way. Not only are the people spectacular, but the city is amazingly beautiful. It also makes simple, sustainable living surprisingly easy.
We both went to undergrad at George Washington University in Washington, DC. Again, we have wonderful and supportive friends there. The city is also the site of vibrant, young Catholic culture. The school at which I'll be teaching, the Brookewood School, is full of spectacular, holy staff, students, and parents. Many of them have welcomed me--and Adam by extension--into their families. That's the kind of environment Adam and I both really seek for a happy and spiritually healthy workplace.So, we're left with an abundance of good choices. But each one brings its own costs. We both love our parents. The idea of being hours away from them for the rest of our lives in heartbreaking. On the other hand, living in a city where people your age share your interests and worldviews is also a very important part of human life.
For now, Adam and I have decided that DC offers the best of all options. I have a job there that I love; he's got the possibility of doing work which is actually productive and truly rewarding. We're not all that far from my parents, when one compares it to the distance away I currently am; DC is actually only three hundred miles further from Denver than Seattle. And we have friends in DC, plus the strong potential for more, who really care about us. I can't say it was an easy decision, or that it will last forever, or even that we're sure it was the right one. But, for now, I'm very excited about being a part of a community a love while I start my new family.
Wednesday, February 18, 2009
Registries: A Moral Qualm
When I went registered at Macy's, I was shocked by how much I was taken in by the system. Just standing in the store, I started to create a mental picture of my life with Adam, one of opulent wealth. Not that the kind sales attendant who helped us at Macy's was anything but extraordinarily professional--she didn't bully me into anything. It was the structure of the entire "wedding gift" department of the store. It made me want things I didn't even know existed. Or, perhaps want is an understatement: I was almost convinced that these things for sale in the store were requite for future married happiness.
Adam and I have found registering a difficult moral question. Two good friends of ours, adult professionals in the late twenties, decided not to register for themselves at all: they've chosen to register for a family benefiting from Habitat for Humanity. At first, Adam and I assumed that was a clear moral choice. We've decided to strive together to live below our means; expensive presents will only tempt us to purchase more nice things to match. There are so many people in this world with less than we have and, more importantly, fewer opportunities than we have. We wanted to give something to them.
These, thought, weren't the only questions we had to consider. What about those people who really want to give something to us that would support our lives together? We aren't altogether sure it was right to refuse the gifts they wanted to give in love. Are there things Adam and I really do need? As much as we don't want to clutter our lives with superfluous things, we want to be able to keep a pleasant home, showing hospitality to others as often as possible. And what about the overarching temptation of my life? If I give away my wedding presents, can I really avoid feeling self-righteous about it?
These aren't trivial questions. Adam and I are serious about trying to make moral choices together in every aspect of our lives, including finance. How do we use a system so strongly based on generosity, but so liable to materialism, correctly?
In the end, Adam and I decided to register for ourselves. Our compromise is to ask only for things that will last, or at least promise to last, a lifetime and only things that we need or will help us show greater hospitality to others. We also decided to register through the I Do Foundation. Partner vendors (including Target and Macy's) give a certain amount of the purchase price of gifts back to the charity of our choice--Habitat for Humanity International.
Still, I'm not sure what the right answer is. Generosity is a good. Materialism is a bad. I suppose the balance between the two will probably crop up for the rest of our lives together.
Adam and I have found registering a difficult moral question. Two good friends of ours, adult professionals in the late twenties, decided not to register for themselves at all: they've chosen to register for a family benefiting from Habitat for Humanity. At first, Adam and I assumed that was a clear moral choice. We've decided to strive together to live below our means; expensive presents will only tempt us to purchase more nice things to match. There are so many people in this world with less than we have and, more importantly, fewer opportunities than we have. We wanted to give something to them.
These, thought, weren't the only questions we had to consider. What about those people who really want to give something to us that would support our lives together? We aren't altogether sure it was right to refuse the gifts they wanted to give in love. Are there things Adam and I really do need? As much as we don't want to clutter our lives with superfluous things, we want to be able to keep a pleasant home, showing hospitality to others as often as possible. And what about the overarching temptation of my life? If I give away my wedding presents, can I really avoid feeling self-righteous about it?
These aren't trivial questions. Adam and I are serious about trying to make moral choices together in every aspect of our lives, including finance. How do we use a system so strongly based on generosity, but so liable to materialism, correctly?
In the end, Adam and I decided to register for ourselves. Our compromise is to ask only for things that will last, or at least promise to last, a lifetime and only things that we need or will help us show greater hospitality to others. We also decided to register through the I Do Foundation. Partner vendors (including Target and Macy's) give a certain amount of the purchase price of gifts back to the charity of our choice--Habitat for Humanity International.
Still, I'm not sure what the right answer is. Generosity is a good. Materialism is a bad. I suppose the balance between the two will probably crop up for the rest of our lives together.
Tuesday, February 17, 2009
Fear
All of my life, I've been afraid.
On the surface, I'd like to think that I'm calm, reasonable, and down to earth. I maintain, or at least used to maintain, the veneer of a skeptic. I never get too excited about something because I don't want to be disappointed if and when it doesn't happen.
But on the inside, I'm elated. I've lived an extraordinarily blessed life, full of promise for a happy future. Still, when the next dream promises to come true, I shut down--what if it doesn't happen? What if something terrible happens to me first? What if I die without this thing I want from the bottom of my heart?
I have to say, that the promise of marriage is the ultimate playground for my greatest fears and anxieties. There is nothing I'm so excited about as marrying Adam, starting and family, and building a life together with him. So nothing terrifies me as much as the idea it may not happen.
So, I have to confess that I'm terribly afraid. The idea of each plane flight before I get married (I'm scheduled for at least seven) makes me feel nauseated. I'm afraid each ache and pain is a harbinger of something awful.
I know my fear is unhealthy, a corruption of my God-given desire to find and follow my vocation. But I can't imagine I'm the only bride-to-be who is afraid.
On the surface, I'd like to think that I'm calm, reasonable, and down to earth. I maintain, or at least used to maintain, the veneer of a skeptic. I never get too excited about something because I don't want to be disappointed if and when it doesn't happen.
But on the inside, I'm elated. I've lived an extraordinarily blessed life, full of promise for a happy future. Still, when the next dream promises to come true, I shut down--what if it doesn't happen? What if something terrible happens to me first? What if I die without this thing I want from the bottom of my heart?
I have to say, that the promise of marriage is the ultimate playground for my greatest fears and anxieties. There is nothing I'm so excited about as marrying Adam, starting and family, and building a life together with him. So nothing terrifies me as much as the idea it may not happen.
So, I have to confess that I'm terribly afraid. The idea of each plane flight before I get married (I'm scheduled for at least seven) makes me feel nauseated. I'm afraid each ache and pain is a harbinger of something awful.
I know my fear is unhealthy, a corruption of my God-given desire to find and follow my vocation. But I can't imagine I'm the only bride-to-be who is afraid.
Monday, February 16, 2009
Marriage Prep and Imaginative Contemplation
Catholic couples are normally required to spend at least six months preparing for marriage. Adam and I are doing the best we can, but the process is a bit more difficult when the betrothed are thousands of miles apart. We plan to spend a weekend in DC at an Engaged Encounter, about which I plan to post more later. For now, we're both plodding along on our own.
As part of my own spiritual preparation for marriage, my chaplain suggested I could get involved in Christian Life Communities--CLC. It's a group of Catholics who meet and pray together once a week, using The Spiritual Exercises of Saint Ignatius as a very rough guideline. Imaginative contemplation is a central focal point for Ignatian (Jesuit) prayer. It involves reading a scripture passage and then entering into in with your imagination. Sometimes nothing happens. Sometimes, you are aware that your mind is creating an experience for you--not a wash of an experience because it's still a form of prayer. But, at its best, imaginative contemplation takes your out of yourself and puts you into the narrative of the scripture passage and gives you an opportunity to speak with and listen to Christ.
I'd like to post a rough outline for an imaginative contemplation for anyone who would like to try it. I'm borrowing/adapting this from my friend Siobahn (shi-BAHN--she's Irish), so I hope she doesn't mind.
1.) You'll need at least twenty minutes. Find a quiet place and time in your day. Sit comfortably--try not to move or fidget during the prayer.
2.) Next, try to still your soul. This is one kind of "stillness exercise." Focus on your body. How are you sitting? How does the chair feel? One by one, tense up all the muscles in your body. Relax them. Focus on your breathing. As you exhale, breath out any worries or concerns that may distract you during prayer. Ask God to take care of them for you. As you breath in, feel yourself being filled with the love of God.
3.) When your mind feels settled, read the scripture reading. This reading is from Mark 4: 35-41. Read it once, and then again, slowly.
4.) Close your eyes. Imagine yourself into the scene. Try to quiet yourself. Go with your first reactions. There are no wrong answers. Take the questions slowly, as a guide. You may choose to ignore them.
Imagine the scene. What does the weather feel like? Hot? Cold? Can you smell the sea? Imagine yourself climbing into a boat after a long, hard day. What does the boat look like? How many people are in the boat. What are they doing?
Night falls. The sky grows darker . The waves grow and the wind blows harder. How do you feel? Listen to the wind. Is it raining? Feel the boat rocking harder and harder. How do you feel now?
Where is Jesus? Someone goes to wake him up--is it you? How does he react? Watch as he moves to the edge of the boat. Listen as he rebukes the storm. Calm. What are your feelings toward Jesus? Take the time to speak with him if you would like. Take the time to listen to him, too.
Spend as much time as you need imagining yourself into the reading.
5.) Take some time to reflect. What did you say to Jesus? What did Jesus say to you? What are the "storms" in your life? Is there anything you'd like Jesus to rebuke and tell to be quiet?
6.) You may wish to spend a few minutes asking God for his help or thanking him for his blessings.
And then you're finished. At first, I was extremely skeptical. I don't tend to go in for "hippy spirituality." Still, several months in, I can honestly say that the group has changed my life. Once you know how it works, you can try imaginative contemplation for any number of readings. Saint Ignatius' example is John 1, though I'm not sure my imagination is up to that yet. I'm very excited to someday try this new way of praying with Adam in person.
As part of my own spiritual preparation for marriage, my chaplain suggested I could get involved in Christian Life Communities--CLC. It's a group of Catholics who meet and pray together once a week, using The Spiritual Exercises of Saint Ignatius as a very rough guideline. Imaginative contemplation is a central focal point for Ignatian (Jesuit) prayer. It involves reading a scripture passage and then entering into in with your imagination. Sometimes nothing happens. Sometimes, you are aware that your mind is creating an experience for you--not a wash of an experience because it's still a form of prayer. But, at its best, imaginative contemplation takes your out of yourself and puts you into the narrative of the scripture passage and gives you an opportunity to speak with and listen to Christ.
I'd like to post a rough outline for an imaginative contemplation for anyone who would like to try it. I'm borrowing/adapting this from my friend Siobahn (shi-BAHN--she's Irish), so I hope she doesn't mind.
1.) You'll need at least twenty minutes. Find a quiet place and time in your day. Sit comfortably--try not to move or fidget during the prayer.
2.) Next, try to still your soul. This is one kind of "stillness exercise." Focus on your body. How are you sitting? How does the chair feel? One by one, tense up all the muscles in your body. Relax them. Focus on your breathing. As you exhale, breath out any worries or concerns that may distract you during prayer. Ask God to take care of them for you. As you breath in, feel yourself being filled with the love of God.
3.) When your mind feels settled, read the scripture reading. This reading is from Mark 4: 35-41. Read it once, and then again, slowly.
4.) Close your eyes. Imagine yourself into the scene. Try to quiet yourself. Go with your first reactions. There are no wrong answers. Take the questions slowly, as a guide. You may choose to ignore them.
Imagine the scene. What does the weather feel like? Hot? Cold? Can you smell the sea? Imagine yourself climbing into a boat after a long, hard day. What does the boat look like? How many people are in the boat. What are they doing?
Night falls. The sky grows darker . The waves grow and the wind blows harder. How do you feel? Listen to the wind. Is it raining? Feel the boat rocking harder and harder. How do you feel now?
Where is Jesus? Someone goes to wake him up--is it you? How does he react? Watch as he moves to the edge of the boat. Listen as he rebukes the storm. Calm. What are your feelings toward Jesus? Take the time to speak with him if you would like. Take the time to listen to him, too.
Spend as much time as you need imagining yourself into the reading.
5.) Take some time to reflect. What did you say to Jesus? What did Jesus say to you? What are the "storms" in your life? Is there anything you'd like Jesus to rebuke and tell to be quiet?
6.) You may wish to spend a few minutes asking God for his help or thanking him for his blessings.
And then you're finished. At first, I was extremely skeptical. I don't tend to go in for "hippy spirituality." Still, several months in, I can honestly say that the group has changed my life. Once you know how it works, you can try imaginative contemplation for any number of readings. Saint Ignatius' example is John 1, though I'm not sure my imagination is up to that yet. I'm very excited to someday try this new way of praying with Adam in person.
Saturday, February 14, 2009
Our Readings: The Psalm
Part two in my continued series on the readings Adam and I have chosen for our wedding--pending, of course, the priest's final approval.
Psalm (Psalm 118: 19-25*)-This is the choice we've given the least thought; for a descendant from the Martin family (my paternal grandmother's family), the choice seemed obvious. Psalm 118:24 is a really important verse of scripture for my family. My great-grandmother, Mamacora, used to ask her family daily, "Do you know what day it is?" "It's Saturday, Mama." "No! This is a day that the Lord has made. You shall rejoice and be glad in it." When she died at ninety-nine, hers was the only happy funeral I've ever attended. "Ms. Cora's finally gotten that promotion she's been waiting for," the preacher said. And he meant it. Adam and I hoped that, by choosing this reading, we'd be aligning ourselves with her holy and truly grateful attitude about life and God.
Open the gates of victory;
I will enter and thank the Lord.
This is the Lord's own gate,
Where the victors enter
I thank you for your answered me;
You have been my savior
The stone the builders rejected
Has become the cornerstone.
By the Lord has this been done;
It is wonderful in our eyes.
This is the day the Lord has made;
Let us rejoice in it and be glad.
Lord, grant salvation!
Lord, grant good fortune.
*a very long psalm for which I'm not quite clear about the division
Psalm (Psalm 118: 19-25*)-This is the choice we've given the least thought; for a descendant from the Martin family (my paternal grandmother's family), the choice seemed obvious. Psalm 118:24 is a really important verse of scripture for my family. My great-grandmother, Mamacora, used to ask her family daily, "Do you know what day it is?" "It's Saturday, Mama." "No! This is a day that the Lord has made. You shall rejoice and be glad in it." When she died at ninety-nine, hers was the only happy funeral I've ever attended. "Ms. Cora's finally gotten that promotion she's been waiting for," the preacher said. And he meant it. Adam and I hoped that, by choosing this reading, we'd be aligning ourselves with her holy and truly grateful attitude about life and God.
Open the gates of victory;
I will enter and thank the Lord.
This is the Lord's own gate,
Where the victors enter
I thank you for your answered me;
You have been my savior
The stone the builders rejected
Has become the cornerstone.
By the Lord has this been done;
It is wonderful in our eyes.
This is the day the Lord has made;
Let us rejoice in it and be glad.
Lord, grant salvation!
Lord, grant good fortune.
*a very long psalm for which I'm not quite clear about the division
Our Readings: The Old Testament, Tobit 8: 4b-8
Adam and I picked our readings Thursday night! I thought it might be a good idea to record for posterity, and for myself, why we made the decisions we did. I'm thrilled by the image of married life on which Adam and I both agree, and by the way in which our readings reflect that.
I had originally planned to post all the readings at once, but they've proved too long. I'll try to do one a day for the next four days. I'd welcome any feedback or comments.
Old Testament Reading (Tobit 8: 4b-8)-It was difficult to settle on a reading from Tobit. Most of my family is Southern Baptist, which means they don't accept the book of Tobit as Biblical. (It's a part of the deuterocanonical--'second canon'--tradition because, until 1955, the book was only known in Greek.) The story is a beautiful one about devotion to God and to family.
Tobit grew up in Israel before he and his family were deported to Nineveh. His lifetime is a chronicle of risking his life and well-being to do good, but only reeping sorrow. He risked his own life to bury the dead, despite the decrees of the emperor--he was deported. He lay out in the sun after a ceremonial washing from touching a dead body--birds defecated in his eyes and he became blind. Years later, he had a heated argument with his wife. "Where are your charitable deeds now?" she asked him. "Where are your virtuous acts? See! Your true character is finally showing itself." Grief-stricken, he prayed for death.
Meanwhile, his close relative's daughter, Sarah, was also suffering. She had been married seven times, but before any man could consummate their marriage, he was killed by the demon Asmodeus. Her maid even accussed her of strangling her husbands herself. Sarah resolved to hang herself, but chose not to inflict pain and embarrassment on her father. Instead, she too prayed for death.
What happened next is best told in the words of the Biblical narrative: "At that very time, the prayer of these two suppliants was heard in the glorious presence of Almighty God. So [the angel] Raphael was sent to heal them both." God chose to answer both their prayers, but in a much more glorious way than either expected.
The angel Raphael disguised himself as a human being, Azariah ("God helps"), and escorted Tobit's son, Tobiah, to Raguel's home in Media. Tobit simply wanted to reclaim some deposited money to provide for his family when God answered his prayer for death--he didn't expect God's miraculous answer to prayer would so far surpass his expectations. On the way, Raphael encouraged Tobiah to catch a fish--the smoke from burning the fish's heart and liver could drive away demons and a paste made from its gall could cure blindness. Obviously, the paste restored Tobit's sight and he and his family lived happily for many years. But my favorite part of the story is Tobiah's marriage to Sarah.
Tobiah had the right to marry Sarah as her closest relative. Raphael encouraged him to claim his right so he could obey his father's order to marry a kinswoman and so he could save her from her fate. Sarah herself was terrified to marry Tobiah because of what might happen to him, but her parents reminded her to trust in God's mercy. After the wedding, before they went to bed together, he burnt the fish's heart and liver on the fire: "the demon, repelled by the odor of the fish, fled into Upper Egypt; Raphael persued him there and bound him hand and foot." But, even after the demon had been driven out, Tobiah told his wife to get out of bed and pray. This is the reading Adam and I have chosen:
Adam and I were both enchanted by this beautiful prayer. Tobiah focuses first on gratitude for God's creation and his promises before asking to claim those promises for himself and his wife. But most of all, we love the idea that Tobiah takes his wife "for a noble purpose." If we truly believe marriage is a vocation, a calling, we must trust that God has brought Adam and I together for a noble purpose. We chose this reading to remind ourselves to always seek that purpose for our married lives.
I had originally planned to post all the readings at once, but they've proved too long. I'll try to do one a day for the next four days. I'd welcome any feedback or comments.
Old Testament Reading (Tobit 8: 4b-8)-It was difficult to settle on a reading from Tobit. Most of my family is Southern Baptist, which means they don't accept the book of Tobit as Biblical. (It's a part of the deuterocanonical--'second canon'--tradition because, until 1955, the book was only known in Greek.) The story is a beautiful one about devotion to God and to family.
Tobit grew up in Israel before he and his family were deported to Nineveh. His lifetime is a chronicle of risking his life and well-being to do good, but only reeping sorrow. He risked his own life to bury the dead, despite the decrees of the emperor--he was deported. He lay out in the sun after a ceremonial washing from touching a dead body--birds defecated in his eyes and he became blind. Years later, he had a heated argument with his wife. "Where are your charitable deeds now?" she asked him. "Where are your virtuous acts? See! Your true character is finally showing itself." Grief-stricken, he prayed for death.
Meanwhile, his close relative's daughter, Sarah, was also suffering. She had been married seven times, but before any man could consummate their marriage, he was killed by the demon Asmodeus. Her maid even accussed her of strangling her husbands herself. Sarah resolved to hang herself, but chose not to inflict pain and embarrassment on her father. Instead, she too prayed for death.
What happened next is best told in the words of the Biblical narrative: "At that very time, the prayer of these two suppliants was heard in the glorious presence of Almighty God. So [the angel] Raphael was sent to heal them both." God chose to answer both their prayers, but in a much more glorious way than either expected.
The angel Raphael disguised himself as a human being, Azariah ("God helps"), and escorted Tobit's son, Tobiah, to Raguel's home in Media. Tobit simply wanted to reclaim some deposited money to provide for his family when God answered his prayer for death--he didn't expect God's miraculous answer to prayer would so far surpass his expectations. On the way, Raphael encouraged Tobiah to catch a fish--the smoke from burning the fish's heart and liver could drive away demons and a paste made from its gall could cure blindness. Obviously, the paste restored Tobit's sight and he and his family lived happily for many years. But my favorite part of the story is Tobiah's marriage to Sarah.
Tobiah had the right to marry Sarah as her closest relative. Raphael encouraged him to claim his right so he could obey his father's order to marry a kinswoman and so he could save her from her fate. Sarah herself was terrified to marry Tobiah because of what might happen to him, but her parents reminded her to trust in God's mercy. After the wedding, before they went to bed together, he burnt the fish's heart and liver on the fire: "the demon, repelled by the odor of the fish, fled into Upper Egypt; Raphael persued him there and bound him hand and foot." But, even after the demon had been driven out, Tobiah told his wife to get out of bed and pray. This is the reading Adam and I have chosen:
Tobiah arose from bed and said to his wife, "My love, get up. Let us pray and beg our Lord to have mercy on us and grant us deliverance." She got up, and they started to pray and beg that deliverance might be theirs. He began with these words:
"Blessed ard you, O God of our fathers; praised be your name forever and ever.
Let the heavens and all your creation praise you forever.
You made Adam and you give him his wife Eve to be his help and suppoer; and from these two the human race descended.
You said, 'It is not good for the man to be alone; let us make him a partner like himself.'
Now, Lord, you know that I take this wife of mine not because of lust, but for a noble purpose.
Call down your mercy on me and on her, and allow us to live together to a happy old age."
They said together, "Amen, amen."
Adam and I were both enchanted by this beautiful prayer. Tobiah focuses first on gratitude for God's creation and his promises before asking to claim those promises for himself and his wife. But most of all, we love the idea that Tobiah takes his wife "for a noble purpose." If we truly believe marriage is a vocation, a calling, we must trust that God has brought Adam and I together for a noble purpose. We chose this reading to remind ourselves to always seek that purpose for our married lives.
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
Choosing the Readings
Because Adam and I live half a world away from each other, wedding planning turned into something a bit rushed. We crammed picking a menu, a cake, the flowers, the bridesmaids dresses, the church, and even my dress into the span of a week. The photographer and the band followed within a few days. Most of the time, I'm happy to have the whole thing finished. But occasionally, when Adam's in class and I'm playing the part of expectant bride-to-be, waiting be the phone (well, computer) for my fiance's call, I regret not spending months planning the wedding down to the last corsage.
The real treat has been spreading out the planning of the liturgy. Catholic services typically have four readings: one from the Old Testament, a Psalm, one from the New Testament, and one from the Gospel. The readings are supposed to work together as a whole; the priest usually focuses on them to focus his homily.
We've used the The Catholic Wedding Book, which I cannot recommend highly enough and will praise at greater length later, to help us choose the readings. The book suggests that the process of choosing readings can itself be an important part of marriage preparation:
There have been a few readings which we eliminated almost right away:
With that in mind, it's been lovely practicing discernment together about which readings would best demonstrate the values we hold most important for our married lives. Besides, all of them have given us a wonderful chance to study scripture together. We'll be looking at our "short list" of readings in a day or two and I am very excited about it. I will keep you posted.
The real treat has been spreading out the planning of the liturgy. Catholic services typically have four readings: one from the Old Testament, a Psalm, one from the New Testament, and one from the Gospel. The readings are supposed to work together as a whole; the priest usually focuses on them to focus his homily.
We've used the The Catholic Wedding Book, which I cannot recommend highly enough and will praise at greater length later, to help us choose the readings. The book suggests that the process of choosing readings can itself be an important part of marriage preparation:
...Discuss your favorites and give your reasons to one another. Also point out to one another those ideas you consider alien or difficult, remembering that Jesus often speaks to his church about things we choose not to hear in ways we consider hard to follow...Adam has kindly agreed with me to go through a possible reading a day to narrow them down. The process has taken us more than a month, but it's been a month we've been able to spend together in prayer and contemplation, for at least a short while, almost every day.
There have been a few readings which we eliminated almost right away:
- The story of Issac and Rebekkah required too much back-story for a shorter wedding (Genesis 24:48-51, 58-67).
- Readings from Song of Songs seemed a bit abstract for our wedding (Song of Songs: 2: 8-10, 14, 16a).
- 1 Corinthians 13 is tried and true, but perhaps too cliched to retain its original effectiveness (1 Corinthians 12: 31-13: 8a)
- Particularly in the New Testament, most of the readings focused on the love of God only, rather than the way in which we enter into God's love (Romans 8: 31b-39; Romans 12: 1-2, 9-18; Romans 15: 1b-3a, 5-7, 13; 1 Corinthians 6: 13c-15a, 17-20; Ephesians 5: 2a, 21-33)
- A few just didn't seem "right" for a wedding (Genesis 1:26-28, 31a; Jeremiah 31: 31-34a).
- Many, out of context at least, seemed to downplay the beautiful statement of equality built into the Catholic wedding liturgy by focusing on the man's possession of or domination over the woman (Tobit 7: 6-14; 1 Peter 3: 1-9) or by leaving him out of the equation (Proverbs 31: 10-13, 19-20, 30-31; Sirach 26: 1-4, 13-16).
With that in mind, it's been lovely practicing discernment together about which readings would best demonstrate the values we hold most important for our married lives. Besides, all of them have given us a wonderful chance to study scripture together. We'll be looking at our "short list" of readings in a day or two and I am very excited about it. I will keep you posted.
Monday, February 9, 2009
Enter Enide
Erec and Enide is a Medieval French romance by a man named Chrétien de Troyes. In it, the handsome prince, Erec, wins his fair bride, Enide, and sets out to live happily ever after.Then what?
Years later, Enide wakes up and discovers that her handsome prince is no longer the courtly knight he once was. He has given up all his feats of valor to lay abed with her all day. "Your renown has declined," she says. "The very best of knights--the boldest and the bravest, the most loyal, the most courteous that was ever count or king--has completely abandoned chivalry because of me."
Erec and Enide set out on a grand quest to prove Erec's prowess. But on the way, things happen that they don't expect. Their journey becomes, among other things, a beautiful allegory for growth in married life. Together, they learn that happy endings only come to people who continue to work for them every day.
When my now-fiance and I got decided to get married last October, I started searching the Internet for people with stories to tell. So many wedding blogs tell the stories of botched cakes or how to buy perfect wedding dresses. But marriage isn't just for a day. Weddings aren't happily ever afters.
...and Enide is my chronicle, the story of my engagement and, hopefully marriage, to the man I love more than anything in the world--my own quest for a happily ever after. I look forward to sharing my story with you.
You can find out more about Erec and Enide in Arthurian Romances by Chrétien de Troyes, translated by Carleton W. Carroll.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)