November 20, 2009
 
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| In Praise of Disenchantment |
| by Eve Tushnet |
| 4/03/08 |
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I've got a four-leaf clover
And it ain't done me a single lick of good --
I'm still a drunk and I'm still a loser
Living in a lousy neighborhood
-- Old 97's, "Four-Leaf Clover"
I wasn't a religiously inclined child. I was really the opposite: a superstitious child. I had a whole slew of signs, portents, an imaginary zoo: Black squirrels were a sign of good luck. I could influence events by the number of times I tapped my foot against a chair, and fairies lived in the knotted tree-roots that cracked the neighborhood sidewalks.
This might sound like an enchanted world, full of wonder. But in many ways it was an ingrown, self-aggrandizing way of seeking control over an uncontrollable world, a way of proclaiming my own specialness and superiority. My superstitions were partly the result of a vivid imagination -- but partly also the result of anxiety, and the self-centeredness of a privileged child.
Superstitions are a kind of paint-by-numbers religion: simplistic, superficial, with none of the wildness of religious belief. Although my superstitions separated me to some extent from other kids (I was "weird"), they didn't require any sacrifice from me. In fact, the little luck rituals, and the belief that I had some kind of grand destiny, made me feel important and in control -- a rare and appealing sensation for a child. There was a strong element of wishful-thinking in all my self-comforting half-beliefs.
I'm sure there are people for whom childhood fancies were spurs to wonder and gratitude for what is real. G. K. Chesterton, in Orthodoxy, writes about "elfland" this way: Fairies arrayed around a tree are astonishing, but so are roots arrayed around a tree. The whole fairyland business is one reason Orthodoxy might be the only Chesterton I've ever genuinely disliked: Why do the fairytales he describes lack the bloody-mindedness of the best tales, the cruelties of Grimm, or the sacrifices of Andersen and Wilde?
But really, I just never entered "fairyland" with the attitude Chesterton describes. He notes that in a fairy tale, an apple has a special meaning and purpose. And one of the strongest "movements" of my conversion was my acceptance that out here in real reality, an apple has a special meaning and purpose, granted it by the divine love Who shaped and sustains it. Superstitions, and allied attempts to make myself the pantheon of my own mythos, were very much the opposite of this understanding of the world and its inhabitants: My self, my uniqueness, my single specialness was poured out over the world like Wite-Out over a painting.
During times in my childhood when I felt especially unhappy and isolated, these superstitions strengthened their hold on me. I used scraps from various novels and dreams to build an alternative world, and retreated into that world. I was trapped in a shell made of funhouse mirrors, treating fantasy creatures as if they were more real than the actual existing people around me. I ended up acting in ways that were callous and hurtful, because I put my own imaginary adventures (themselves often expressions of unhappiness, not that this is an excuse) above other people's needs and griefs.
A lot of people think of the Catholic faith as a form of superstition. For me the two could not seem more different. It's easy to think, Oh, she was an imaginative, "artsy" girl, with a well-developed ability to make believe: to make herself believe her own stories. So now she's found a very colorful story to believe in.
But being Catholic feels totally unlike those early superstitions and stories. Being Catholic means the world doesn't revolve around me. Catholic life requires all kinds of things I don't especially care for and wouldn't have come up with on my own. It often requires humbling acceptance of helplessness and neediness, rather than anxious seizing of (illusory) control. Catholicism is unexpected. And it draws me outward, to focus on other people and most especially on Christ, rather than on myself.
Prayer is humility; magic and superstition are attempts to control. The difference is obvious if you've tried both.
Eve Tushnet writes from Washington, D.C. Readers have left 8 comments. Eve- great article, very self-revealing and helpful- I just purchased - Orthodoxy- so I will look at it with your critique in mind. Something I've long been troubled by is the seeming divide between those in the laity who seemed consumed by aethetical and rubrics-oriented criticisms of Catholic Liturgies, and those of us who are more consumed by our sense of duty to renew and reform the temporal order- particularly in terms of taking political responsibilities deadly serious. I have often thought that Liturgy is pretty much the domain of the clergy, and my role as a layman is to try to simply do my bit in worshipping as worthily as I can muster the necessary concentration skills- with the given being that some parishes stress differing styles of worship, but if the priest is abusing the rubrics, I shouldn't allow that to stand in my way during the Mass itself- not always easy I'll grant. I accept that it is good that the laity offer feedback to the clergy and some join liturgy committees and the like, but essentially it all seems to be more the business of the clergy than the laity. The political scene is something other- the social doctrine is an essential part of our evangelizing mission- yet there hardly seems to be the comprehensive interest and criticisms from many devout Catholics when it comes to ordering the political realm correctly. Is this part of the escapist mindset- focusing in on one's private spiritual life likes and dislikes, meanwhile the world of flesh and blood goes down a sewer hole?  Written by Tim Shipe Very thoughtful, Eve. I think your observations will resonate with more of us than will admit it. And the timing of this piece leads me to think you were reading the posts on the Inside Catholic blog a few days ago when Brian and I (and Todd, though he didn't actually admit it)revealed how we used to really believe we possessed paranormal abilities. We all, reluctantly, grew up, but you chronicled the journey. Well done! Written by Jason Eve, Excellent piece. I really enjoyed this, and I think that the distinction you make about fantastical superstition and Catholicism as superstition needs to be repeated, loudly and often. I've never heard it said that way, and it makes a lot of sense. Written by Steve Skojec I have often thought that Liturgy is pretty much the domain of the clergy, and my role as a layman is to try to simply do my bit in worshipping as worthily as I can muster the necessary concentration skills... — Tim ShipeTim, While there's some truth to what you say, I think you're vastly underestimating the psychological/anthropological role of the liturgical experience. A book I can't recommend highly enough on the topic is Martin Mosebach's The Heresy of Formlessness, available from Ignatius Press. Written by Steve Skojec Eve, Not to dispute your post, I feel I must defend my favorite book by my favorite author! Your point about the danger of self-centeredness of fantasy is absolutely true, but I don't think that Chesterton was speaking to that issue at all. His main point was against those who touted a fatalistic, "scientific", and ultimately meaningless reality. Chesterton argued that, on the contrary, life is full of meaning, just as fairy-tales are full of meaning. Or, to put it as Lewis and Tolkien did, we should not distinguish between "fairy tales" and "reality" as much as we should recognize that reality is simply the fairy tale that is true. Chesterton would have argued that the darkness of evil in the fairy-tales you mention is simply a reflection of the reality of evil in the world. How does evil exist in a world where death is simply the cessation of a particular set of biological functions? But in a world where death is a profound change for an immortal soul, like the world of fairy-stories and in reality, then things begin to matter. So I think, in the end, you agree with Chesterton more than you realize. Written by Bear Eve: This was fantastic. And I think you've struck a chord -- a lot of us can relate to what you write here. Written by Brian Saint-Paul Eve, Your reflections bring to mind the many amazing women who converted to Catholicism ~ which truth they discovered and embraced with relief. Undset's Kristin Lavransdatter amply speaks for the journey so many of us take to distinguish truth from folly, true freedom from pursuit of pleasure, submission to God's will from loss of control. Others, like Rumer Godden and Elizabeth Fox-Genovese traveled similar ground and, like you, found voice to tell about being drawn "outward, to focus on other people and most especially on Christ, rather than on myself", drawn outward by a "yes" straight into the light. I find your words a lovely encouragement along my own spiritual path. Thank you. Written by Marjorie Campbell Good article, Eve. Interesting that your name is Eve, though, because the temptation satan held out to the first Eve was essentially a temptation to be not only prideful but also superstitious. Written by Michael Healy, Jr. |
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