Thursday, January 31, 2019

Treat Yo Shelf: 01/31/19

by Dan Masterton

Welcome back to The Restless Hearts, friends!

We resume our regular blogging with my new Thursdays series, #TreatYoShelf.



Each Thursday, I'll share a few of my favorite reads from the past week with a little summary or a quick thought. My hope is that I can help draw you toward a handful of faith-relevant articles and reflections to stir your spirit and get you thinking constructively. I may throw a few videos, jokes, and other miscellanea in here, too. Hope you enjoy!

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"3 Guidelines I Use to Stay Sane on Social Media" by Molly Cruitt via Grotto Network

Donna live streaming
Ron's first selfie slash Vine.
I am a believer that social media isn't inherently evil. It's the classic issue of intention and use -- knives aren't evil when they spread butter but become evil when they're wielded for violent ends. We often end up consuming and utilizing social media is ways that can trend toward dangerous things. It's best to find ways to moderate and limit consumption to keep it in a happy place. One great suggestion I echo from Molly -- try snoozing or muting people who are elevating your blood pressure. It keeps your social connection but gives you a trial run of removing them from your feeds. I am a big fan of taking 30-day snoozes when certain friends push my buttons with their posts.

"What It’s Like for Secular, Liberal Pro-lifers at the March for Life" by Ashley Fetters via The Atlantic

 In an increasingly polarized political climate -- especially one where New York and Virginia are pushing abortion law even further left -- it's hard to imagine pro-life citizens as anything but super-conservative and super-Christian, and that's exactly what can be so tough about a two-party system. These two monoliths don't reflect the diversity of the country and its varying stances. This reporter captured a more nuanced portrait of the citizenry at this year's DC March for Life. Here's a good thumbnail: "But despite what the popular narrative might suggest—that the pro-life side of the abortion debate is conservative and the pro-choice side is liberal, and the two sides don’t like each other—secular and left-leaning pro-lifers I spoke with said they felt welcome at the March for Life, and that most of the time they feel welcome in the pro-life movement in general, too. They do, of course, know they’re outnumbered."

"Stop giving young adults special treatment at church" by Emily Sanna via USCatholic

 Having belonged to a parish with one of the most vibrant young adult scenes out there, I have seen the pros of it -- strong sense of belonging, friendships started and grown at church, hearty catechetical content at programs, etc. I also know that segmenting a parish can be dangerous, especially if one segment becomes stronger while others lag behind. Ideally, a parish is a healthy blend of its various states of life, age groups, and gifts. In Emily's reflection, she talks about trying to forge a path in parish life that actualizes that. As usual, the best Catholic answers may be both/and's, and I walked away from reading this thinking we need both specialized aspects and combined/all-ages aspects to parish life.

"Want to keep your kids Catholic? Make your home a church." by Katie Prejean McGrady via America Magazine

Sometimes, parents show good hustle
but just don't quite have it figured out.
Having an almost two-year-old daughter, I often wonder how intentional our family faith life needs to be. Mass every Sunday is a top priority but then what -- is grace before meals enough extra prayer? do we need to have more regular pieties? are we active enough in the parish? Juggling two work schedules, caring for Lucy without daycare, and navigating my wife's terminal degree (no more school in two years!) can leave the schedule ragged and iffy. Katie's sparse, simple reflection here resonates with me and my childhood. My parents were not theologically formed, did not have exceptional home pieties, and did not sit us down for bible studies; they were every-Sunday Mass-goers, faithful belong-ers and contributors, and socially engaged Catholics. Our house and our parish were home. Take a deeper dive with Katie here. Sometimes the best plan is to just be a consistently good, thoughtful example.

"The 'Ethics' of Trump's Border Wall" by Cardinal Joseph Tobin via NYTimes Opinion

The politics of the wall have played out ad nauseam amid the shutdown, the temporary budget, and the looming re-shutdown. Meanwhile, the human realities remain. Cardinal Tobin captures important aspects of this in his reflection, namely, that the wall neither changes the underlying motivations of migrants nor the laws of the land, which permit asylum requests. Having spent a week in the borderlands, I can attest that the thought process of many who attempt the crossing is that the danger of dying in the desert is less daunting the imminent threats they face back home; many simply take the calculated risk since the potential, even if unlikely, outcome to stay in the US is better than their status quo. Customs and Border Protection already practices Prevention by Deterrence, which uses walls and resources to funnel crossers into more remote, more dangerous terrain, where the earth's natural challenges will eliminate crossers for CBP, which the maps back up.

Goose Island Beer Company Snow Removal

 Here in Chicago, we have a little thing called "dibs." The basic idea is that, in heavy winter weather, if you dig a parking spot out for your car, it remains yours even after you pull away. Typically, people use lawn furniture, trash cans, or other items to mark off their dibs'd spot, and those who observe dibs treat it as an unavailable parking spot. Others find this practice abhorrent and pull their cars right into these spots, casting the markers aside as they desperately try to park their cars. The whole system is a bit flimsy and certainly ramps up when weather hits a fever pitch. Whether you're pro or con, Goose Island gave us something we can all get behind -- help with our parked cars. This is a fun example of stepping away from a well adjudicated and tense debate to focus on the human need. Enjoy!
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Monday, January 14, 2019

Excess Isn't Hospitality

by Dan Masterton

When it comes to social conventions and customs, I am the pig to whom makeup has been applied so it can then masquerade as a bull before he enters a china shop. I am either clueless of conventions or know customs and break them with pitiful gracelessness. This charm of mine was on full display during wedding planning with my wife and our families.

All along the way, I discovered unwritten rules and expectations that I had not previously known -- things like bridal party members receive plus-ones whether they have significant others or not, guests who share that they cannot come upon receiving save-the-dates receive invitations nonetheless in order to formally decline, and more. What’s more, my ignorance and the related frustration was then compounded because all of these rules are actually arbitrary and can in fact be broken or amended and I was unqualified to identify those times when rule-bending was allowed. Oof. Let’s just say married life suits me better than engaged life.

I just don’t seem to have the poise and awareness to function well in social conventionality. Part of it is the Seinfeldian observational humorist inside me. When I see something fishy, I usually can’t help but call it out for what it is, and typically that goes against the grain of what I should be doing. The other part is the minimalist simpleton who I am, who prefers the quick-and-dirty, the straight-forward, the basic versions of most things. It’s a grating combination for those in my orbit, I’m sure. Being surrounded by many accomplished hosts all across my family, friend groups, and different areas of my life, I often feel a bit outcast and outlierish.

This all comes to a head when I’m with larger groups for social gatherings like holiday get-togethers, birthday parties, and other social outings that involve large meals, because the dominant modes of hospitality stymie me. The dictionary definition of hospitality is “the friendly and generous reception and entertainment of guests, visitors, or strangers.” I’d say, in my own layman’s terms, that hospitality is receiving others into your home, or another setting you’ve facilitated as host, and making them feel welcome and cared-for; typically that involves food, drink, conversation, and the chance to socialize enjoyably.

Yet, for some reason, hospitality often is largely about excess. I’ve seen it in the Midwest and the South, in Ireland and Italy, among Germans and Mexicans, from millennials and boomers. If you’re not overdoing it, you’re not hosting. Gatherings of ten people have to have enough food for fifteen, and nights that may call for a couple six-packs or two bottles of wine have to be stocked like an open bar wedding.

I think there’s at least three odd presumptions here.

First, it’s assumed that most everyone will take home extras and leftovers. Sure, sometimes some people could use the leftovers as a quick lunch, a meal for work, etc. Other times, people just shopped for their groceries or don’t enjoy leftovers or are leaving town tomorrow. I’ve been both witness to and recipient of the “invitold” leftover; it often feels like my host just wants me to take it so they don’t have to eat it or guiltily throw it away.1

Second, it feels like people think that folks will be offended if the host runs out of something, or worse, label the host as a “bad host” for under-preparing for guests. Sure, if you’ve got a tray of glorious chicken strips that I’ve been eyeing and it then runs out, I might be bummed. But I also might be an adult and eat the other foods that are offered or simply be grateful to have been hosted and served. It can be hard to predict how much everyone will want, but it feels like we tend to overshoot it by a lot, perhaps out of fear.

Third, there’s this weird expectation that excess also has to include a ton of options. We definitely live in a day when food allergies and more narrow diets are more front of mind, but most of the time, it doesn’t seem like catering to that is the chief motivation. Seeing spreads with both ham and turkey,2 with five different sides instead of one or two, with a dessert table instead of one central dessert -- I think people expect quantity to more easily impress. Making one thing really well is seemingly more risky; a myriad of options gives people control and the chance to find the thing they like (though they still may not find their favorite!).3

Finally, when it comes to curating these options to guests, I often feel compelled or even coerced to consume and embibe at a dangerous clip. Hosts narrate the options I have for appetizers, drinks, main meal, and dessert. Then, they may ask me if I want something, but often, they’re not interested in my actual answer, instead skipping ahead to getting me something they’ve prepared and want to share. If I take a smaller portion of some main dish or dessert, or God forbid, even decline dessert altogether, I’m almost certain to be thought of as rude.4 I usually feel not like I’m being hosted but like I’m being run through a restaurant week fixed menu or something.

Ultimately, I will certainly sound like an ingrate. And to some extent, I just am. I always have wonderings about others’ thought processes, choices, and MOs. And my curiosity usually manifests as somewhere between skeptical or critical. Can’t you just appreciate being hosted, Dan!? No, I wish. God made me analytical, and He wired my analysis to loop back and forth with my spirit. Hence The Restless Hearts blog title. Gotta keep seeking rest in God via pilgrimage through an engaged life of faith.

I think a few things would sate my crusty old grumpy soul. First, I feel much more at ease when hosting and hospitality are transparent and communicative. I am much more anxious walking into a situation where I know nothing about the shape of things; I am way more comfortable when I know how the night was planned, who was invited, and what people were asked to bring/not bring, etc. because the hosts share that all ahead of time. That all makes it feel more like hospitality to me.5

Most of all, nothing would make me more relaxed than knowing that excess has been mitigated. Have the amount of food and drink been closely estimated to reflect the amount of people coming and their appetites? Or, if a host insists on making extra or feels it’s too difficult to guess on quantity, are there arrangements penciled in to take care of the leftovers? And I mean a greater arrangement than forcing leftovers on hesitant guests and/or the kitchen garbage can. Maybe hosts of larger gatherings could even grossly overestimate their output because they’ve prearranged with a soup kitchen to take half the yield as their supper to serve the next day? That’d be a party I want to attend.

The sum of hospitality is that is has to be done in a way that is honest gift, or it isn’t love. Insistence on excess food, tons of options, and no empty hands declining drinks or empty plates taking small portions feels like genuflection to a social convention rather than honoring a beloved guest. The menu of food and drink can’t be so important that it overshadows the very guests it was curated to serve. And fueling the throwaway culture with careless excess of food and drink dishonors our solidarity with those who go without each night. The love of hospitality is so fundamentally about giving, but to really be love, it must also receive.


1 There are certainly times when we aren’t leaving town or haven’t recently shopped for groceries when I happily receive leftovers. I was just at a birthday party where my party favor was a bag of extra fajita meat. Yum. However, at a family Christmas party on December 22, I feel like I personally insulted my aunt when I told her I’d be at parties where the food/dessert/etc. was already spoken for on each of the next three days and declined to take anything but a handful of sweets home.↩


2 Full disclosure: my wife, Katherine, and I made steak and salmon for Christmas Day with our family. However, our whole meal fit on a salad plate. Small portions of each, a neat pile of green beans, and a twice-baked potato half. We finished the sides that day, and the leftover steak became quesadillas for a subsequent lunch.↩


3 One of the myths of the technological/social media age is that more choices are better. As well profiled by comedian/amateur social scientist Aziz Ansari in his book Modern Romance, having more choices often breeds greater indecision and creates impossibly high bars for what should be easy calls.↩


4 Again, I have larger problems with tone and body language that make me seem like a grumpy jerk. But you can’t tell me I’m thin and look good AND expect me to overeat and pound desserts. I prefer regular self-denial and occasional milkshakes. ↩


5 I don’t need a minute-by-minute accounting of the night’s plans, but I don’t like flying blind. Do I bring something or not? Is it a full meal or just “heavy hors d'oeuvres”? (Whoever popularized that, to heck with you. I need real meals.) Is it a big gathering that will intimidate introverts or a small, chill crowd and/or familiar folks with whom I can relax?↩

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