Works and Prayers of a Fils Prodigue

On my mind recently has been the whole notion of bourgeois society. First off, I should clearly state that I am not marxist; that is to say, I don’t see all of history as this grand friction between the classes, with the slaves perpetually (or, at least intermittently) kept at bay by the wiles of the greedy. To clarify my meaning, I couldn’t assert that this wasn’t a historical factor, but that it is not the main driving force of human society. No no, I choose to be more optomistic, or even spiritually realistic, than that.

But the notion of the upper and middle classes, the upstarts, the fascination with appearance and wealth, and so forth ad infinitum has been my lenses for some time, so to speak. I’ve noticed that American culture seems to be obsessed with the bourgeoise — for example, shows like “Gossipgirl” or even “The OC” catalogue the misadventures and terribly tragic woes of white suburbia; did Janet wreck her dad’s car while leaving the party? Does Peter spend all his allowance buying blow? Did Ashley really sleep with Meagan’s boyfriend just to exact her revenge? These shows and those like them are perpetually focused on the seemingly monstrous but woefully inconsequential, perhaps even fabricated, trials of being white and well-to-do. The irony is, of course, that the large majority of humanity doesn’t even have the luxury of such trials as wrapping their dad’s porche around a telephone pole — most of humanity is more concerned about contracting diabetes or acquiring drinkable water than any of the fictionalized obstacles that Fitzgerald, James, or OC writers might list. `

But, tangetal television criticism aside, there is something which urks my Christian heart about the bourgeoise. As a little background, I grew up working class (but no, this isn’t the start of my political speech or why I can understand the little man). My dad went from working in a chemical plant outside of Sulphur, to painting houses and cutting lawns, to working as a day-laborer for the city, to being an animal control officer. My mom, having recently abdicated from us at the time, worked generally in a stereotypically female role: administrative assistant to white, powerful men. Both were, for all intents and purposes, wage-slaves. I certainly have no intention of trivializes my parents’ occupations, though; both of my parents worked tremendously, admirably hard to provide for us. Still, I know what it’s like to be the only kid who can’t afford to go on the field trip, or who can’t afford to get the coolest lunch snacks (which is an huge class marker, I think, for the modern 3rd grader!). But, we worked, we ate, we managed. I began work at the age of 12 or 13 — cutting grass; I then graduated to working at a Vet Clinic, and now am sitting (presumably comfortably) as a student at a (presumably) prestigious university.

As with all things, my childhood has colored my perception of society, of neccesity, of work and luxury. Not only my childhood, however, but my spiritual journey has also played a significant role. Even before studying the Catholic Worker Movement and its founders, who themselves despised and continue to despise the bourgeois culture, I developed a disdain for what I could not name then . As I’ve intimated previously, I’ve come from the spiritual standpoint of a lay-monk, so to speak; someone entranced by Merton and St. Benedict, challenged by St. Francis, and propelled by notions of voluntary poverty and self-sacrifice (whether I’ve lived up to these is quite another story for another day). In truth, there was no alternative for me but to echo the words of Nicholas Berdyaev in his scathing essay, “The Bourgeois Mind”*: “[Bourgeois is] the will to power, to well- being, to wealth [which] triumphs over the will to holiness, to genius.” How could one, enamored with italian mendicants and poor trappists care for wealth or well-being or for comfort, which is, as Mounier writes, is seen as “the ultimate value, the ultimate motive for all action”** in modern days?

The answer is simple: I couldn’t. Reflecting, again, Berdyaev, I believe that we must see the bourgeoise — rich, poor, upstarts, old-money — not only in economic terms, but in spiritual terms. What does it mean spiritually to be inordinately concerned with wealth and comfort? With status and appearance? With acquisition and ambition? It is simply the choosing of one god over another. Christ clearly states “a man cannot serve two masters…you cannot serve both God and mammon.” And what else could bourgeois be if not the disordered search for acquisition and domination? To, as Berdyaev writes, entirely reject God as the Jewish Pharisees did in Christ’s time? The Gospel, the Scriptures as a whole, demand that we perpetually envision our landscapes covered in sand; “folded as like a mantle,” as Hebrews describes. There is no security, save in God. Money will inflate and fail; land will dry up; cars, tvs, bicycles, toasters will rust. Thieves steal and moths rust: its as simple as that.

So what this mindset, that of Bourgeois thinking, really requires is not simply comprimising the Gospel, but positively renouncing it. Without delving deeply into the historical and spiritual roots of this (such as the Tower of Babylon or Calvinism), it should be clear to us, as disciples of the mendicant rabbi himself, that there is some disconnect with the simple words of Christ — such as “do not worry about what you will eat or drink, or what you will wear, for the pagans run after these” or “Woe to you rich, for you have your comfort now” — and the particularly American mentality of rugged individualism, of comfort and prosperity as the markers of blessing. I know I’m spinning an old record here, but I will reiterate as much as necessary — it is the poor, not the rich, who are blessed. It is the detached, whether upper, middle, or lower class who are truly blessed and near to God. It is the Bourgeoise who worship Him with their lips, but are far from him (possibly at a resort).

So what can we do? A start is reading “Happy Are You Poor” by Fr. Thomas Dubay. Another step is, perhaps, involvement in the myriad of movements and communities which reject the “American Dream” — the New Monastic movement, the Catholic Worker Movement, communities such as the Gabriel House in Virginia, and the like. Still, at this point, I manifest the plague of the intellectual: words, words, words, and scarce a finger lifted! But, perhaps before we act on a problem, we have to know and feel the problem to begin with. Of course, this is no brilliant expose of the American middle class, nor is it an economic treaty about the evils of corporate culture and globalisation. It’s only a simple reminder, to myself and hopefully to you, that holiness and genius are more important than comfort; that there are bigger issues than Janet wrecking her dad’s porche.