But Who Will Save Us?

A very thought-provoking blog called A Shepherd's Post is written by one of my former pastors at St. Mary Star of the Sea in Beverly, Fr. David Barnes.  In a recent entry entitled Marriage Will Save the World, he notes how vicious and divisive people's words are in online articles especially when fellow Catholics comment on the current state of the Church.

Then he goes on to discuss the beauty found in the sacrament of marriage, first from the perspective of a young couple's recent wedding.  The vows they spoke were simple but pure and noble words.  Next, he mentions offering Mass for a couple's 25th anniversary.  The beauty of the readings was reflected in the life this husband and wife had built for each other over the years.  “The world needs to see families like that; men and women who give over their whole life to the raising of their children.  More than ever, the world needs to see what true communion looks like,” he declares.

Fr. Barnes then laments society's deformed view of marriage and how it has become more about “self-fulfillment” rather than laying down one's life for each other and for the children of that union.  He observes how many couples nowadays delay marriage or don't ever get married because of this.  My former pastor concludes his blog entry by writing, “Today in the midst of so much division, I think that marriage is the key to healing a world broken and devastated by division.  Communion is attractive and pure.  We need witnesses of communion.  We need men and woman to live marriage.”

As a single who has been called to marriage for a long time now, I see within Fr. Barnes' blog entry a certain disconnect that plagues our Church.  If holy matrimony is held up as such a beautiful union, then why isn't more being done to assist the men and women who desire it?

If we could only figure out Phase 2.

This disconnect reminds me of an episode of South Park where gnomes sneak into people's bedrooms at night to steal underpants right out of dresser drawers.  The main characters decide to follow these gnomes back to their lair and confront them.  As it turns out, the gnomes are stealing underpants because it's part of a grand plan to make money.  While pointing to a chart, one of the gnomes explains, “Phase one: collect underpants.  Phase two: ?  Phase three: profit.”

It's an absurd way of showing how a hoped for result isn't actually achieved when you do very little to get there.  We see this same logic play out in Fr. Barnes' blog entry.  Phase one: Marriage is a great thing.  Phase two: ?  Phase three: The world is saved through marriage.

During his tenure as pastor of St. Mary's, I can't recall Fr. Barnes doing anything to encourage singles to fulfill their calling to the sacrament of holy matrimony.  In fact, the parish felt like a very discouraging place.  Couples who were lucky enough to find each other were celebrated while lonely singles like me tended to be ignored probably because our narratives weren't so edifying.

Despite the sharp decreases in marriage over the last few decades, there are men and women who still desire the bonds of holy matrimony.  We want to remain true to our spouses for the rest of our lives.  We want to have children and make sure they are raised within the Catholic faith.  Yet our Church is doing very little to help struggling singles get there.  Marriage will save the world but who will save us?

Why I Don't Go Out

An acquaintance heard me complain about the lack of eligible women so he suggested we go to out to a local restaurant that also had a bar and stage for live music.  He thought there would be plenty of singles to meet at this place but when I contacted him a few days later, he was too tired to go out.  (Now how was I supposed to get a social life when things like that happened?)  A couple of weeks passed and there was still no word from my acquaintance so I decided to send him a message via Facebook.  As it turned out, he was free that Friday night and suggested I pick him up at his apartment around 8 PM.  From there, the restaurant was just a few minutes away and after paying the cover charge, we found two empty seats at the bar.

A bartender swooped in right away to take our order and while my friend had a beer, I decided not to get anything.  I used the excuse of being the designated driver but in reality, alcohol just wasn't that appealing to me.  Over to my left was a young couple who looked like they were fans of the show Jersey Shore.  To the right of my acquaintance were two college co-eds eating large portions of Italian food.  For a Friday, there wasn't much of a crowd and most of the patrons looked like they were over the age of 60.  My acquaintance said, “The type of crowd depends on who's playing.”  The night's entertainment was a young country music singer named Annie Brobst.  He said if it had been a rock band, the crowd would probably be larger and younger.  Just my luck!

A female bar tender checked in on us and then asked if we were looking forward to having a good time.  My acquaintance remarked, “Sure.  What time do you get off work?”  She paused for a moment and then shrugged off the comment.  As she walked away, I said to him, “I think that's the first time she has ever heard that.”  She turned around and said, “Yes, that's the first time, alright.”  I was surprised the bartender heard me given all the noise in the room but she seemed appreciative.  When he stepped outside to have a cigarette, she said to me, “Can I get you a soda?  My treat.”  I replied, “You know what I would love but am too embarrassed to order?  A Shirley Temple.”  The drink had sentimental value because when I was a kid, my uncle used to throw Labor Day pool parties and it was the only mixed beverage I was allowed to have.  The bartender said she would put it in a normal glass so no one would know.  As soon as I finished it, she immediately brought over another one.

When my acquaintance returned from his smoke break, the bouncer didn't remember his face and thought he was trying to sneak in.  We pointed out his beer and he was let back into the establishment.  The country music was nice although I wondered how a singer who was born in Ohio and lived in New England developed a southern accent.  A couple of overweight redneck women got up to dance and my acquaintance said, “There you go.  Why don't you dance with them.”  To further get my goat, he snapped a picture of me and then posted it to social media with the caption, “He's drunk!”

The couple sitting next to me eventually left but the college girls to the right of us continued to drink and flirt with the male bartender.  I looked around the room again and said, “You know where the people our age are?  At home with their wives and kids.”  Despite feeling a bit isolated, I did enjoy the change of pace from my usual Friday night routine of staying home.  The female bartender handed me a third Shirley Temple so I made sure to drink it slowly this time.  A nice tip was in her future and I hoped that might spark some more conversation with her.  

Suddenly, I felt someone's hand grab the back of my chair.  It was an older woman trying to get her balance as she plunked herself down in the empty seat next to me.  I tried to ignore her but she insisted on chatting with us.  She seemed drunk and asked me if my acquaintance was my dad.  He felt insulted since only a few years separated us so he said to the woman, “You look good for 60.”  She made a sour face and told him to fuck off.  Now how did I get myself into this mess?

The woman continued to chat with me even though I showed disinterest.  She said I was cute and tapped my leg a couple of times.  I told her not to get so grabby.  After a few more minutes of this, my acquaintance and I decided to make a hasty retreat.  He paid his tab and quickly finished what remained of his last beer.  The female bartender was off to the side mixing a drink for a customer so I walked over to her and got her attention.  After leaving money on the bar and thanking her for the drinks, I headed outside before that drunk woman tried pawing me again.

My acquaintance attempted to start a conversation with a girl who was taking a smoke break.  He said, “Loud in there tonight, isn't it?”  She coldly responded, “Not really.”  It was clear we weren't going to meet anyone here and during the ride back to his apartment, we analyzed our night out.  In the back of my mind, I had suspected some weirdo or loudmouth would gravitate toward me but I didn't want to say anything for fear of sounding pessimistic.  Once again my suspicions were confirmed.  When I told my mother about the experience, she said older men used to hit on her all the time at bars adding, “But your cousin did find her future husband at a bar so it's hit or miss.”  She suggested we give going out another try.  With experiences like that, it would be a long while before we returned.