Mixed-sex friendships, part II Jeff Culbreath and I cannot be confined to a mere comment box. Apologies for the long post — use that scroll bar on your browser window if you want. In fairness to Jeff, I reproduce his lengthy comment below, with m

…[T]he saints agree with me. Surely you have read the Confessions of Saint Augustine and the extraordinary measures he took so as never to be alone with women. And Saint Ignatius of Loyola advised, “Have no relations with women, except those of the highest rank”.
Actually, I’m somewhat more liberal than our Catholic saints in this regard. Having friendly conversations with the ladies at work — even of a personal or religious nature — is not exactly what I mean by “friendships”. I do that too. But even these harmless encounters always have the *potential* for going further, where that is simply not the case with same-sex friendships (assuming heterosexuality). Being aware of that potential — and knowing that everyone else is aware of that potential even if you are Mr. Total Control — means avoiding even the appearance of intimate friendship with members of the opposite sex.
It isn’t merely lust. For men, what we call “sexual” attraction extends to the whole package of resplendent, radiant, magnetic femininity — a beautiful thing to behold, and a difficult thing to resist.
I am reading a biography of General Mariano Vallejo (one of the founding fathers of California) to my children in the evenings. We just finished the chapter about his courtship and marriage to his lovely wife, Francisca. In the old Spanish days of California, when our culture still embraced Catholic norms of behavior, a young man such as Vallejo was never permitted time alone with a young woman. Everything took place under the watchful eyes of their elders. Vallejo would quite literally seranade his beloved from the courtyard beneath her window, and occasionally recite some verses of poetry he had written for her. Along the same lines, no respectable woman of any class would appear in public alone. Maybe, just maybe, the old California padres knew something about relations between the sexes that we have forgotten.
I leave you with a final thought. If you love the Catholic ideals of femininity and chilvalry as I do, then you will not encourage too great a familiarity between the sexes. In our day men and women are thrown together in every occupation and circumstance, but this has not resulted in better relationships or stronger marriages. It has had precisely the opposite effect because it has eroded the mystery of the sexes and multiplied the opportunities for mischief, undermining the respect that each sex should have for the other.

* * *

So many meaty things to deal with here….
I believe we are called to do good rather than to avoid evil, though I recognize that to do good it is imperative to avoid evil. Merely finding a woman “attractive” is not sinful in itself, nor does it necessarily lead one away from God. Any attraction is potentially sinful, in that it can be a rival to God. I have met — and you have, too — people who transform harmless hobbies into personal religions, complete with metaphysics, doctrines, and devotional practices. I’m thinking of golfers, Star Trek devotees, UFO alienists, etc. Sex is a particularly strong rival to God in many people, but it is hardly the only one. If we excluded from our lives all potential idols, we would have nothing left.
Sts. Augustine and Ignatius were celibate clerics. The former accused himself of sinning as an infant — an impossibility in Catholic moral theology. Personal observations (Augustine) and pastoral advice (Ignatius) do not rise to the level of immutable truth. I don’t think the Holy Father would make a blanket statement like “Have no relations with women, except those of the highest rank.” He has spoken incessently about purifying human relations in all their forms from the malign influence of sin, whether the ties are economic, cultural, or intra-sexual. He seems to prefer strengthening human relationships with the guidance of revealed truth, not abandoning them as potentially harmful. You will find in many saints’ writings chaste intra-sexual friendships. Granted, they were normally conducted at an epistolary distance, but not always — heads of religious communities could and did work together in person.
If you take your views about male-female relations to an extreme, you get Saudi Arabia. I don’t mean that as an insult, simply as a description. They practice what you’re advocating in a near-perfect manner. Women have almost no opportunity to have any kind of contact with men they aren’t related to; their bodies and faces are hidden away under layers of fabric. Is that really a better way of living — and consistent with the Gospel?
Also, I’m wary of using any historical epoch as a template that should be imposed upon the present day. I have no problem with saying that many societies have been superior to our own in many respects; I agree that pre-American California was probably a more healthy place to raise children, especially girls. However, no age is a Golden Age, no place a Utopia, not here on Earth. Only in the New Jerusalem.
That being said, my daughter isn’t going to go on one-on-one dates while she is living under my tutelage. If I didn’t make it clear before, when you said that premarital relationships should mainly be a prelude to marriage or they should not be at all, we are like two peas in a pod (as long as those peas agree with us about courtship.) I just don’t think friendship is going to automatically lead to corruption, though we should be constantly on our guard, in that and in all our actions and relationships, sexual or otherwise.
As for your final point, granted. Having just spent time on the mixed-sex USS Iwo Jima, having men and women in such close proximity isn’t good for anybody, or for the important job they’re trying to do. The typical office environment is a little different, though; heck, since my female developer quit and Marketing moved upstairs, I work on an all-male floor. We’re even thinking of annexing the ladies’ restroom. I’ll keep everyone posted.

Mixed-sex friendships and marital trouble

Mixed-sex friendships and marital trouble
Jeff Culbreath, a frequent commentator on this blog who was born in the same city as my parents, had some things to say about mixed-sex friendships in comments attached to a previous post. He doesn’t think they’re a good idea in general, saying that they can “take an inappropriate turn” and they “makes for really wimpy and effeminate men.” I always respect his intelligent comments, but I respectfully disagree.
Intra-sexual friendships are most likely to take the wrong road if you’re in the wrong setting. When I say I’m friends with females I work with, I mean that I talk to them on a personal level, and if they happen to be at a work-related gathering I won’t run away screaming. I wouldn’t go out to dinner with them at a cozy restaurant. I wouldn’t go out one-on-one for drinks after work. But I will talk to them about their lives, their views on the world, and my own life and views. The kind of things friends talk about.
I can’t see anything sinful in that, nor do I think it would lead to something sordid. I would not hold myself up as the ultimate moral exemplar, but I’ve got a good marriage and a healthy family life, and I’m not afraid to talk about my faith with others. Should I refrain from giving a good, positive manifestation — or something like it — of Catholic family life? Most of my friends are Catholic, and I don’t have that much opportunity to give a personal witness of the Faith outside of work. It would be hard to do that without talking to my non-male co-workers.
For myself [clearing throat, puffing up chest], I can say having women around hasn’t made me effeminate yet. If women in the workplace makes the environment less masculine, that’s not necessarily bad. I don’t think an all-female or all-male environment is completely healthy, except in a limited number of settings. (Convents, monasteries, and schools are some of those settings.) The worst tendencies of each sex comes out when there is too much testosterone or estrogen concentrated in a small space.
Your thoughts?

Victoria’s Secret…revealed at last! The

Victoria’s Secret…revealed at last!
The year was 1989. Manuel Noriega had declared war on the United States. The Schultz brothers were breaking girls’ hearts at Mt. Vernon High School. Guns ‘n’ Roses destroyed hotels around North America. Women wore jackets with padded shoulders, making them look like linebackers with breasts. And the Victoria’s Secret catalog began to arrive at the Johnson household.
I don’t know how my mom got on Victoria’s mailing list, but every few weeks the publication would come in the mail, and I would flip through it. Throughout the ’70s and ’80s, correct women wore mannish clothes, at least in professional settings. Throughout my schooling, educators tried to tell us that boys and girls were exactly alike except for a few minor anatomical differences, which we knew was utter rubbish. Still, this was before the feminists decided to immolate themselves on the pyre of Bill Clinton’s disordered sexuality, and their sex-neutral propaganda still held sway.
At the time, I thought the idea of Victoria’s Secret was a positive development. Here was a chain of stores that sold unabashedly feminine clothes and toiletries. The name evoked 19th-century England, and you could read into that what you liked — whether it was supposed to lend a rarefied air to what was primarily an underwear store, or to suggest that if a woman looks proper outside, underneath her clothes she might be sporting less inhibited attire.
It did not escape my adolescent attention that many of the women were attractive. Nay, they were beautiful: soft, feminine features with womanly bodies. They were leagues away from the sullen walking sticks who populate the wider fashion world. There was an erotic element to the catalog, to be sure — we are, as mentioned above, talking about underwear — but it was one element among many. Everything about the models, from their hair to their poses to their warm but not quite beckoning smiles, suggested elegance and class. It was an affirmation of the uniqueness of feminine sexuality without prurience, which is a tricky thing.
Yesterday, after getting back from a brief trip, I discovered that my wife is now on the Victoria’s Secret mailing list. (Why not? We’re already getting about 47 Christmas catalogs a day.) It confirmed my suspicion that Victoria’s secret is that she runs a prostitution ring. The first sign was the change in the stores’ decor a few years ago. Whereas they used to employ darker hues and subtle lighting, they switched to a style that can only be described as “New Orleans bordello,” with bright halogen lights and bold colors. They now sell outer clothes and underwear, and their television commercials are as frequent as they are frightening. (They are a multi-billion-dollar corporation. Was Dennis Miller the only person available?)
Worst of all, they have given themselves over to crassness. The classy models have been dismissed; in their place is a legion of Barbie dolls. All of the bodies are improbably skinny in most places and ludicrously generous in others. Cheekbones and hipbones are prominent. The implicit sales pitch has changed from “Buy our products, and you’ll feel like a woman,” to “Buy our products, and men will want to have sex with you the moment they see you.” I guess the public’s taste must be skewed toward trashy women, because that’s what the company has embraced.
Personally, I find the whole transformation repulsive. I’m not being a church lady here — I find the female form attractive, and I’d be lying if I said I could look chastely for a long period of time at pretty girls in their knickers. Even the old Victoria’s Secret catalog wasn’t something a Christian man should have been perusing. (In my defense, I didn’t take my Christianity very seriously until well after 1989.) Nevertheless, it’s disappointing that yet another corporation has resorted to the lowest-common-denominator approach. There is nothing wrong with eroticism per se, but when it is a brightly lit invitation to lust, it deserves our scorn. On a professional level, too, it’s unworthy of respect, for it takes real intelligence to be subtle, but anyone can be blatantly sexual. You have to wonder how long such a company will survive.
Ah, well. There’s always the Land’s End catalog.

Consciousness qua consciousness I’ve been

Consciousness qua consciousness
I’ve been thinking about consciousness lately, specifically as it relates to the body-soul relationship. What I don’t get is that our souls, being immaterial, exist outside of time, yet we experience time in a linear fashion. Also, it seems to me that what we call “consciousness” is the nexus of our body and soul: when we go to sleep or get hit on the head, we lose consciousness; when that happens, our souls don’t cease to exist,
but we are no longer aware of ourselves. Doesn’t that offer proof of the connection between our bodies and our souls? I’m sure a materialist would say that’s proof that the “mind” doesn’t exist independent from our brain.
Somebody out there can give me some philosophical reading on this subject, I’m sure.

Why D.C. will never be

Why D.C. will never be a state, reason #253
If this doesn’t catch your eye, no headline will:

Pulse Felt in Body in D.C. Morgue.
A District woman believed to be dead was placed in a body bag by a team from the D.C. medical examiner’s office, taken to the morgue and put in a refrigerated box until an investigator — who was called to officially declare her dead — found a pulse….
Deborah Wilson, 49, was found Friday morning in her bedroom at the Museum Square apartments, 401 K St. NW, apparently suffering from cardiac arrest. But what happened between the 911 call and four hours later when Wilson was finally pronounced dead remains in dispute, according to interviews and internal District records….
The medical examiner’s team arrived at 1:30 p.m., found police and two family members, and Wilson “on her knees like she was praying,” according to a source on the scene.
When the body was removed from the bed, “she sighed and she moaned,” the source said. The supervisor from the medical examiner’s office heard the noises and said, “It’s just aspirations. No big deal,” the source said.

The best quotation of all: “Cyril Wecht, the coroner in Allegheny County, Pa., and past president of the American Academy of Forensic Sciences, said a pulse is a sign that a person is alive. ‘There is no pulsation after death,’ he said. ‘Definitely not.'”
Most of you reading this probably don’t live in Washington, so you don’t know how many things around here defy satire. Did you know, though, that many people living in Washington want D.C. to be a state? Yep, an 83-square-mile state. Nobody outside of the city takes it seriously, but if it ever becomes a national issue, be very afraid. The government of 265 million people will be held hostage by a few hundred thousand D.C. voters, many of whom have a tenuous grasp of reality.
If you’re curious about what the other 252 reasons for why D.C. will never be a state, reasons #1-200 are “Marion Barry.” My friend Chris Wavrin gives a few others:
#201: Rats
#202: No parking
#203: Rats
#204: No Guns
#205: Rats
Feel free to some lighthearted things to that list — “can’t plow snow off the streets,” “potholes,” “a foster care system that assigns innocent kids to violent people who kill them,” “a police force that solves fewer than half of the murders every year,” etc.