Reflections on the proper age of marriage

In all the many relationship discussions I’ve had and/or observed, it seems that age is considered one of the biggest factors in the decision or advisability of the relationship–especially if the relationship is marriage. Whenever people talk about someone else’s marriage make the age of the two married people a central issue. Maybe the commentary is positive–they married at the right time. Maybe the commentary is negative–they married too young, or (increasingly) they were too set in their ways; the second of which is a way of saying they waited too long, or maybe that they got too old.

Regarding age as a critical ingredient in marriage success (or relationship compatibility) has always ‘stuck in my craw’ a bit. It feels like one of the many blithe assumptions that come easy to us when explaining our own superiority, like a conventional belief that relationships in the 1950s and 1960s were all loveless, patriarchal shells of a family with an absent and philandering father. All right, maybe I exaggerate a bit there. Certainly few believe that all 1950s relationships (or any historical relationships) were loveless. Yet I suspect that many of us feel just a little bit lucky that we don’t live in the bad old days of arranged marriages, commercial exchanges to accompany weddings, and 14-year-old brides. Despite all that, however, I just can’t believe that the majority of relationships were unhappy or stilted. People loved each other back then, too. I’ll be careful here: I’m not saying that the bad old marriage conventions should be revived; I’m proud to live in an age where spouses choose each other freely and where either can be the breadwinner or caretaker as their fancy (and economic realities) take them. Even if we’ve made improvements socially since then, it doesn’t follow that our forbearers were unhappy. In fact, there are reasons to believe people might have been happier in those benighted old days of crusty tradition, sexual repression (or, depending on who you ask, aggression) and male dominance. They worked shorter hours on average, and slept more, than we do–both of which cause us increased stress and health problems.

In any case, I’m unconvinced that we are better off socially in the 2010s than we were in the in the past. That’s the nice thing about the past, if you have a point to prove: it is easily molded into a structure fitting your preferred narrative. Its easy to make a sweeping assertion that families were stronger back then, or that women were more repressed back then; both are true. Some things have improved; others have degraded. Comparisons are dangerous, because they are usually in the service of prejudices, like our particular prejudice about marrying young.

Statistics tell us that rural and/or less educated people marry younger than their urban, educated brethren; also the average age of marriage has risen from those terrible (but healthier!) olden days. And I often hear (maybe I sense?) a high degree of self-congratulation about that fact, which is funny, because up until about the last 10 years, marriages were becoming steadily less successful, indicated by a rising divorce rate. So we’re doing better because we’re marrying later, but our marriages are less successful? I’m not following. Certainly, some have argued that the rising divorce rate was a good thing, believing most marriages were unhappy because they were essentially coerced. Yet however went the marriage, a divorce is the breaking of a strong relationship that carried a lot of hope and promise, and so it seems likely that many (or most) divorces were bitter and painful. Maybe the practice of marrying older isn’t the social victory we think.

But wait! It would be ridiculous to go back to marrying upon graduation from high school. That is beyond doubt. Who is ready for something that after high school? I was certainly not ‘ready’ for marriage by the time I completed high school? If I’m honest with myself, I think it’s better to say that I was not even ‘capable’ of marriage. I was shockingly self-absorbed and my thoughts were consumed with a) whether I had the right friends and/or girlfriend, b) how I could get the most out of college (and we’re not just talking academically here), and c) agonizing about who I was. You know, the important things. Should I listen to Guster? Can I get away with just a T-Shirt and jeans, because I think it’s so much more chill? Is it ok if I enjoy my classes, or should I make myself enjoy partying more? There was barely enough room in my life for myself, let alone a life partner.

Ridiculous indeed. I doubt anyone would argue that. But by historical standards I was pretty immature for my age. I was 17 years old, able to drive, and almost able to vote. Do you think I was ready to select the most powerful person in the world in an election? I can scarcely believe they let me vote, considering my mental state. But I was not alone. Nearly everyone I know was at a similar maturity level upon their high school graduation. We had been kids for a long time, whose only real responsibilities were…nothing. Homework? Please. Most of us found ways out of it. Summer jobs? Doesn’t count, really–we were usually only making money to finance our weekend plans. For our entire lives thus far, in classes and sports teams and music and school plays, we were totally isolated in a world made for kids. And we weren’t done yet: we still had college to attend. Most of us were big kids, intellectually adults but emotionally (and socially) very young.

By comparison, children who grow up in rural areas, or who grew up in a culture which emphasized community and family, such as the socially backwards past, were probably much more mature than we were at the same age. It’s more likely they were vital contributors to their families, either by helping out the breadwinner with his/her business, or caring for siblings, or doing serious chores (like home maintenance or farm work). They lived in smaller communities, and had more relationships with adults (friends’ parents, aunts and uncles, grandparents, neighbors, etc.). Those 18-year-olds occupied a much less striated society, where they had to have become adults socially by the time they were in their mid teens. Upon the age of high school graduation they were actively part of a community, certainly deserved the right to vote. More importantly, they could also be a good partner in the community of a marriage.

There are great structural advantages to marrying at that tender age. Neurological studies have shown that one’s brain continues to develop until their mid-20s. More importantly, the cognitive functions of the brain usually finish development by about 16-18 (adulthood!), and the moral values and judgment functions of the brain develop after, finishing between the ages of 24-26. In fact, the reason teenagers believe they are invincible has been shown to be linked to the fact that their brains have not fully developed the capacity of judgment, which makes it harder for them to comprehend the risks they take. And while some, if not most, will argue that it’s irresponsible to marry when you haven’t even finished developing your personalities, I will turn the argument on its head and suggest that the best foundation for a lasting relationship is to develop similar values together by shaping each other’s moral growth.

Biologically, people between the ages of 18 and 25 are at their most fertile. Males produce the most testosterone, and therefore the most sperm at that age; females at the same age produce the most estrogen, and have the easiest time conceiving–which seems like a cruel joke, considering that we view that period in our lives as the most undesirable for marriage and starting a family. That age is for exploration, we say, it’s for discovering yourself! Partying! Traveling! There’s no doubt about it–all of those things are easy and fun when we’re in our early twenties. Do you remember how we thought nothing of going on little to no sleep, had no idea what a hangover was, and couldn’t understand the need to diet. We were beautiful, invincible, unstoppable; the world was our oyster. But as a parent in my 30s I will note wistfully that those physical advantages would be very helpful when dealing with children. When I’m chasing my toddler around, or when I have to get up to comfort the baby, I yearn for the energy I had in my 20s.

But of course it’s not a good idea to marry young these days. A college diploma (or at least a tech school certification) is more or less required to find work, and I can’t even imagine what college would be like as a newly-married person (and not just the social aspect; think about beginning a marriage with that kind of debt). But more practically–for the marriage part, anyway–is the fact that no high school graduate I’ve ever known is emotionally capable of marriage. The schooling process, along with popular media, has kept them from any sort of social or real responsibility and instilled in them the fervent, insidious belief that hedonism and wanton self-discovery are the essential components to a happy youth. Have fun! Enjoy college! Date many people! The expected result, of course, is that by a fun process of elimination these 20somethings will find the perfect job and partner, and settle down happily and much later.

These are generalizations, of course. And I am not trying to write a “kids these days,” fist-shaking rant. It’s long been fashionable to blame society for these developments, as if society were some kind of entity with intentions on us. Unfortunately, however, society does not make us (or our kids) do things. It has no intentions or opinions. It just is. And it is made up of us. It is merely the institutions formed out of our cultural perspectives. We think it’s important for kids to be kids, so we have created institutions which keep our kids in a school until they are 18, and take up their free time with sports and music and drama extracurriculars. We as a culture value self-discovery and self-actualization, so we institutionally establish these things in the emphasis on college, or the explosion of self-help books, or our worship of adventures and extreme sports. We value sexual actualization, too, so institutionally we accept more present sexuality and eroticism in things like television, music, and advertisements. The effect of these cultural perspectives is not the fault of our institutions (schools, media, etc.) any more than it’s the fault of a piece of wood that it was made into a chair. We share cultural perspectives; society results.

But frankly we needed our 20s. From my own experience, marriage requires contribution and unselfishness. I’m pretty sure the majority of my peers (and I) did not possess those virtues sufficiently in our 20s to have successful marriages. We still had to learn to support ourselves in the ‘real world,’ to be a part of a work team, to rely on others. Until then, we had parents and teachers and college staff to back us up. We also had to learn by trial and error how to take care of another person, because the school pipeline insulated us somewhat from observing other successful marriages by keeping us in our own age groups. It’s certainly plausible that our parents and grandparents, or kids growing up in rural areas learned all these things during their childhood, in more integrated social groups. But not today. Today, we have our 20s for that.

The fact remains that to be successful in a relationship, we must develop a certain maturity. So those who argue the doctrine of waiting for a bit, in order to mature, are wise. But maturity is not tied to a certain age. One may be less mature at 30 than some are at 18 (watch The Bachelor and see what I mean). And though everyone knows that maturity is only one piece of a great marriage–I’m not sure anyone has adequately explained the romantic longing, or fierce desire, or deep contentment with and for one other person that characterizes the love which leads to and sustains marriage without invoking Grace–I am concerned here with practicalities. Practically, marriages require partnership and respect. Maybe it would be nice to learn those things fully in our first 18 years, for we could happily and successfully marry then, deal with exhausting young children at the peak of our physical capabilities, and skip off to travel the world in our forties (which, at this day and age, practically constitute our healthiest decade of life!). Not an unpleasant prospect.

But our culture makes this near-impossible. So the point of all this rambling is: carry on. We all need a little growing before we marry (successfully). But from someone who has taken that step into marriage, I’ll tell you that it is much better than my early 20s. I’m glad I made it.

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Aurora, Santa Barbara, and Waseca as an invitation to reflect

Last night my wife’s friend joined a news show panel a big TV network, so of course we tuned in to “cheer her on” through the screen. The subject was John LaDue, the upper-middle-class, never-been-bullied, no-reason-to-ever-go-wrong, almost-perpetrator of yet another violent, tragic school shooting.

He, of course, is only the latest in a line of demographically similar young men who have, for reasons yet under debate, become violent. The Aurora shootings shocked us because the location and event seemed vaguely symbolic: a movie theater, at the premier of a much-anticipated movie claiming to delve into the darkness of the human soul. The Santa Barbara killings angered us because the killer wrote elaborate fantasies about being violent, especially toward the women who unfairly denied him sex and the men who received in his stead. John LaDue’s planned violence stands out because the police stopped it–and because his matter-of-fact assertion that he felt mentally ill, that he wanted to kill his peers and hold out until taken down by SWAT, is a chilling glimpse into psychopathy.

The talking heads of the panel were all very unsympathetic towards young Mr. LaDue. The talked about how he was “simply evil,” “beyond rehabilitation” and the like, while the host sagely agreed. They may be right, of course, though I hesitate on principle to presume what someone might do out of respect for certain legal protections on which the United States are founded, but by and large I agree with them: Mr. LaDue ought to be charged with all the crimes associated with planning such a terrible deed (conspiracy to commit murder comes to mind).

It was interesting that they referred to previous, similar crimes–which actually took place–almost as aggravating circumstances. As if the fact that similar spree killings in the recent past somehow made his planned attack worse. It might just have been a trick of phrase; I’m fairly sure the commentators simply wanted to draw attention tangentially to this mystery of young men, from what we collectively consider to be “good” homes, who slowly and without concealment develop a rage and desire to kill, and then execute that desire despite a host of teachers, counselors, and peers who warn against them. I think it’s wonderful that the police caught Mr. LaDue, and if that was the result of a greater awareness of such crimes, then bravo to the talking heads. But the whole exercise in condemnation seemed to be dodging the main issue.

I suppose it’s natural to vent frustration on Mr. LaDue. He did, after all, plan to murder as many of his classmates as he could and (he hoped) some cops sent after him as well. And as a large portion of spree killers end up dead by their own hand, it’s satisfying to finally have someone to punish–especially if he is a better receptacle of our anger than James Eagan Holmes, the Aurora Theater shooter, who presented convincingly as a complete psychopath, and who showed all amusement and no remorse for the court proceedings against him.

Yet I wonder how much of the anger directed at people like Mr. LaDue and Mr. Holmes is to assuage our own consciences. I wonder how much of the condemnation and indignation, however superficially righteous, serves to draw a distinction between us and them; to say in essence, “the spree killer is evil and I am not, therefore get him away from me into jail and then death.” Perhaps shock and anger sometimes mask the relief people feel that they know what is “bad” when they see these spree killers, and it is not them. Perhaps too much of the talk about such men–easy laments about the decline of our society, titillated surprise that the scions of upper-middle-class stability, satisfying outrage at expressions of psychopathy and misogyny–is disassociation.

This bears some discussion. After all, the young men in question grew up among us. They received the same stimuli from media and from our pervasive culture as we have, and they had all the material things they needed. Clutching our pearls and wondering in bemusement how such criminals and terrible crimes could occur is the easy way out, a safe way to avoid hard questions about our own behavior–or at least our participation in a social behavior–which may have (at least) set the stage for a spree killing. Worse is to use these events to forward a philosophical or socio-political agenda, like the opposing crusades of the NRA (which seems to want to arm all teachers) and those who advocate total gun control. It’s ludicrous to think that arming teachers or taking away all guns would somehow solve the problem. The problem isn’t the weapons or lack thereof, it’s that young men decide to spree kill and then do it. They can do it with sticks, steak knives, home-made explosives, or bows and arrows. The problem is that they do it, and it’s our problem because in important ways the perpetrators are similar to us.

At this point I’m sure many readers have rejected this train of thought. They angrily proclaim that bad people exist, and that bad people will always exist, and that there’s absolutely no similarity between the sickoes that spree kill in schools and the rest of us law-abiding Americans. They may angrily point out that only young men have ever committed spree killings, and so it’s not a problem for women in our society. They may passionately argue that if nobody had access to guns, nobody would be able to kill so randomly. Or they may simply brindle at the suggestion that they are anything like the monsters that kill, and decide they don’t really want to discuss it any further. But if so, these readers are taking the easy way out. They are disassociating. They are saying that the problem of spree killing is not their problem, because spree killers are wholly alien. They would rather be right, ultimately, than make the sacrifice of compassion to see if there is any way such killers could be reduced.

Nearly every recent spree killer has come from the same demographic makes a mockery of coincidence. Nearly every spree killer has come from, and targeted, the influential middle class. Nearly every spree killer has evinced rage, most notably the Santa Barbara killer who (horrifyingly) seemed to actually believe that mere fact of others having sexual relationships was a violation of his rights. And nearly every spree killer seems to want attention–they choose schools and movie theaters and prominent universities as their tableau, knowing that they will earn headlines and time on “The Situation Room” and endless panels of talking heads like the one I saw last night.

That, actually, may hold the key to the problem. Attention. Why do spree killers want attention? Attributing it to their generation, as many do, is doubtful–otherwise more entitled millennials (in full disclosure, I’m a millennial too) would turn to violence. No, I would guess that spree killers want attention for the same reason that normal people develop a need for attention: some kind of fundamental, developmental neglect.

Now before people break out the mocking tears and sneer about mommies and daddies not loving their children enough, consider: first, numerous studies have shown that young girls without a close relationship to their parents are statistically more like to engage in promiscuity, drug use, and other risky behaviors; and second, studies into gang membership/affiliation (male and female) cite lack of dedicated parents as a prime causal. It’s not about whining on a daytime talk show, it has been studied and proved that neglected children have a higher propensity towards clinically anti-social behavior. And I have unfortunately met too many middle-class or wealthy parents who are more interested in the next vacation destination, or the new episodes of Mad Men, or in their own jobs, than in their children. Though it looks like stay-at-home-parenting is on the rise, the teenagers and young adults of today are perhaps the generation most commonly dumped into daycare so that parents could have satisfying careers and social lives.

Where it comes to males in all of this, to young men, is a sort of generalized neglect. Wait, hear me out. I know that across the board, women make less than men for similar work. I know that there exists an insidious “motherhood” penalty in the workplace. I think that as the gap between the wealthy and the rest of us has grown, life across that gap on the wealthy side has preserved and protected the old male-dominated social architecture. But back here, in real life, important changes are taking place: compared to men, women collectively get better grades in school, participate in more extracurricular activities (including sports), attend college at higher rates, and in many cases are more readily hired. These are all very good things, and hopefully a harbinger of true equality in the workplace.

Other investigative journalism indicates, however, that laudable attempts to push women to higher social achievements have unintentionally marginalized men. “Socially acceptable” extracurriculars in high school have shrunk to a few high-profile sports in order to spend equally on women’s teams. Universities faced with a majority of female students have invested money in programs of study and student life infrastructure which cater specifically to women. Companies hoping to achieve a certain diversity actively pursue female employees. And I wonder if maybe developmental authority figures like teachers have become mostly female, and less interested (understandably) in focusing on traditionally male interests like war. None of this is to blame the system, but rather to suggest that the intersection of parental neglect and social neglect may be a place frighteningly devoid of normal social obstacles to psychopathy, narcissism, and spree killing.

Obviously not all neglected children turn to violence. And women almost never turn to violence, perhaps because they usually have less aggression due to lower testosterone (though there are exceptions, of course). But I think it no accident that most spree killers commit their deed(s) after puberty, and they all seem to be seeking attention and revenge. Attention, maybe because they never got it; revenge, likely against those who refused to pay attention to them (or suitable surrogates). And I also think it telling that spree killers are usually characterized as loners, and notably lack the comfort and restraint of a social group–a family or a team–to draw them towards good social relationships. Maybe they aren’t necessarily born loners, but possibly are made loners by their development. I wonder if the anger and hatred that many women sense, in catcalls (check out #NotJustHello on twitter) and sexual dominance (#YesAllWomen), isn’t rooted in this cauldron of socially marginalized young men. And I wonder whether a parent, a mentor, a teacher, a friend who cared about [insert name of spree killer] might not have made the difference.

I don’t advocate sympathy for any spree killer. It is for the good of society that they be charged and punished to the full extent of the law. I also don’t advocate some kind of large-scale enterprise or campaign to remedy social wrongs. I suspect that by the time spree killers start exhibiting the signs (posting YouTube rants, rage-filled blogs, and so on) it’s too late for intervention and time for police involvement. But I invite us all to not wring our hands, spit out righteous rhetoric, and go about our daily business, comfortably believing these events have nothing to do with us. I invite us to take the hard road and try to see the killers with compassion, and hopefully to see a way that we can, in the future, make a difference.

Faith, Reason, and Debating the Existential “Big Questions”

I’m past college, and with those years has passed the incidence of earnest debate about things like religion and the meaning of life. That I attended a Catholic university and majored in a “Great Books” meant that I fielded my share of challenges from those who believed something different than I did, and one of the most pressing questions that came up at that time was why.

Why do you believe?

There is something fantastic and mythological, certainly, about the story of a God coming to earth in order to offer Himself up as a perfect, spotless sacrifice in order to atone for every human sin, past and future, and reconcile the human race to Himself as God. The particulars of the story are indeed quaint and uncomfortably sentimental: a sweet young woman chosen to miraculously conceive God’s child; archetypal authority figures hatching dastardly plots and darkly scheming to stop this bright young hero; a set of bumbling accomplices; an impossibly evil death; and the most mythical and unbelievable thing of all: that he was killed and then came back to life.

To my friends, well-educated and mostly liberal humanists, the tale of Christ bears too many similarities to the quaint myths of many other cultures, and is only the biggest myth in a child-like narrative of the world with a stylized creation story and a lot of horrible barbarities. Compared to sophisticated promise of modern disciplines like sociology, psychology, and specialized sciences, a primitive culture’s myth seems plainly archaic. How could anyone believe this, much less someone college-educated?

The challenge about answering this question is that it is ideological rather than academic. Those who ask it have a certain perspective which I don’t understand, but which seems to preclude the idea of a supernatural. Some profess to be humanists, who believe that continued enlightenment in sciences will eventually conquer our social and personal afflictions. Others profess to be rationalists, believing only in those things that science has proved or theorized.

Such alternative belief systems are not, in and of themselves, ideological. They fall more truly into the existential category, defining who we are and why we exist. But they seem to come with a lot of ideological baggage these days. After all, elements of our society today are unabashed and even aggressive apologists for faith (professing the Christian doctrine of sola scriptura) and many of them speak in terms of condemnation, specifically condemnation of those who disagree with them, to hell. They often stand for uncomfortably traditional values as well, like maintaining traditional gender and socio-economic roles. Now all of a sudden we aren’t talking about a different moral and existential perspective, we’re talking about an ideological opponent. And, to be fair, there are fundamentalist Christians who are offensive and judgmental in proselytizing their beliefs.

But to turn the tables, many so-called rationalists and/or humanists can be just as aggressive, and I am skeptical that their explanations of the world are actually more ‘rational’ than a faith-based one. It’s easy to talk about gravity or astronomical relations and say that we can “prove” real science empirically, but I doubt that many of us have empirically viewed the behavior of a virus, or the release of certain brain hormones causing affection or depression. We accept that viruses and brain hormones work a certain way because we have studied the effect of those things and measured them in actual humans, so we know they exist and they affect, somehow, our health or mental state. We also believe people called “scientists” when those people tell us about viruses and brain hormones (and the behavior of chemical elements, and many other things), because we have faith that their education and certification makes them intrinsically trustworthy on certain issues.

Whether or not you trust a scientist or a theologian (or a priest) is really the question, unless on. An Op-Ed in the Washington Post recently pointed out very thoroughly that the two sides are not mutually exclusive. I have little to add to the writer’s argument because I agree with him — I believe in the story of the Christ and yet also pursue understanding of scientific matters, because I want to know more about us and this world we inhabit. He ends with a marvelous paragraph worth quoting in full:

The problem comes when materialism, claiming the authority of science, denies the possibility of all other types of knowledge — reducing human beings to a bag of chemicals and all their hopes and loves to the firing of neurons. Or when religion exceeds its bounds and declares the Earth to be 6,000 years old. In both cases, the besetting sin is the same: the arrogant exclusive claim to know reality.

The answer to the question of why I believe the entirety of the Christian story, with it’s quaint mythological narratives about paradisiacal gardens and apples of knowledge of good and evil and floods and prophets and whales and the Son of God is that I find it more plausible than any of the alternatives. It really makes more sense to me. Not necessarily in they physical particulars (“do you really believe that some prophet actually parted water to create a passage?”), but in the tale it tells of how humanity became prone to doing bad things and how God then came Himself to redeem humanity from its sinful nature.

The Christian tale is plausible to me mostly because of my own experiences in sin and redemption. The vast majority of these experiences are with my own sins and redemptions in my life so far, and a few of them are observations of other peoples’ sins and redemptions. On a precious few occasions I recall witnessing a miracle, or experiencing a beatific presence I attribute to the Christian God. These things are open to interpretation in an academic sense, of course. Rationalists might argue that my experiences of good and bad in myself and others are filtered through a strong inculcated Catholic belief system. They might doubt that I, in fact, saw or experienced so-called “supernatural” things, and point to the demonstrated phenomenon of humans to manufacture memories that suit their subconscious perspectives. And as far as that goes, they may be right. I can’t transmit my experiences to others, so therefore I can’t expect anyone else to believe my conclusions. And yet I can no more forget them than an astronaut could forget his view of a round earth from space, or an astronomer could forget the sightings and calculations that the earth and nearer bodies revolved around the sun in elliptical trajectories.

My point here is not to convince anyone in my beliefs. I don’t think that’s possible — neither a rationalist nor a faith-based belief system can be truly transmitted via dialectic. Any belief system has to be experienced to be believed, personally and deeply experienced. And for a human, that means engaging both the intellect and whatever part of the brain controls belief.

Someone who believes that human emotions like love and depression are a combination of neuron activity and chemical activity in the brain has probably actively engaged the subject: he or she likely wondered why people experience love and other emotions, and pursued the answer until they found an explanation. That’s the activity of his or her intellect. He or she also had to exclude other explanations for emotions (presuming they found others), such as activity of a metaphysical soul, or instinctual behavior bred in by evolution, which is primarily a decision of faith. Does he or she trust neurologists who measure neuron activity and brain chemicals? Priests, philosophers, and/or wise men and women, who have reached a supernatural explanation due to their long experience in considering and/or observing human behavior? What about sociologists and/or biologists who study behavioral patterns and instinct activity?

Personally, I don’t believe that a scientist is intrinsically a better person than a priest or a philosopher. All three are human, which means they are subject to the same ideological myopia and vices, as well as the same inspiration and virtue, as the rest of us. No single person knows everything, and experience teaches that even if a person did, he or she would forget part of it, or hide part of it, or even use it to his/her advantage. Positing that it’s possible to know everything, and use that knowledge correctly, is coming dangerously close to positing God. Whether we follow to that conclusion, or stop short — and who/what we decide to trust and therefore believe — well, that’s just our obligation as rational beings. We each must individually decide what to believe.

It’s natural that each of us would seek like-minded friends in the world, and so it’s easy to see how we would gravitate towards those who believe the same things. So begins ideology, or the pursuit of actualizing an ideal, which carried to the extreme ends up forgetting that ideas are not more important than people — or so I argue as a Christian: that individuals have the highest intrinsic value; ideas may be valuable but they’re not worth more than life itself.

I plead that we don’t let this social instinct push us into prejudice. I and many people I know believe in the teachings of Christianity and yet also follow the progress of scientific knowledge. Many of these people are scientists or doctors themselves. And likewise, I know that people who religious faith (Christian or other) is irrational do not reduce the human experience to the peculiar behavior of a peculiar animal, enslaved to instinct and evolutionary imperative.

So let’s not discuss these existential issues of faith, science, reason, and belief with a desire to win, especially to win by painting other belief systems in pejorative colors. Rather let’s do it to better understand ourselves and each other.

Birthday Ball and Road Trip

As you may or may not know, the 10th of November is the birthday of the Marine Corps. Since 1921, every Marine in the world has celebrated that date. Usually this is done by lavish ball, but for Marines in the field (or Iraq) it simply means a special meal of an ordinary MRE. No matter where a Marine is, on this date he or she will commemorate with other Marines our many years of professionalism, warfighting excellence, and esprit de corps. Although the celebration doesn’t always take place exactly on the 10th, it always includes a reading of the Commandant Lejeune’s original birthday message, a reading of the present Commandant’s message, and a cake-cutting ceremony using an officer sword,  where the the first two pieces cut are given to the oldest and youngest Marine present, with the the oldest passing the first slice to the youngest to symbolize the passing of tradition. Our Ball was held at the Richmond Marriott, and it was a special night. Our guest of honor was Colonel Regan, who (with two Navy Crosses) is one of the most decorated Marines alive today, and great festivities. We finished the celebration with a trip to the bars in our uniforms. It was exceptionally good to be a Marine.

The week that followed was short and painful. Because we receive 96 hours of liberty for most federal holidays, we were scheduled to end our week Wednesday at noon. However, we had the two largest tests of the curriculum on Tuesday and Wednesday, and many clases to prepare us for our “war” coming up next week. Evidently the “war” is quite a realistic – there will be role-players simulating angry mobs, families, small children, news crews, and (obviously) fanatical insurgents. We use MILES gear, which is a high-quality laser-tag system that will “kill” an opponent if you correctly sight in on him or her with your rifle and pull the trigger, so the combat is realistic. It sounds very exciting, though (as usual) there will be little food and sleep. Oh well. Bring on the suffering. It makes me a better warrior.

But now I sit writing to you from the University of North Carolina, Chapel Hill, cosily nestling up to beloved academia and reminiscing. I just attended a Shakespeare class with an old high school friend (who attends this university), which re-fired my desire to explore the rightness, wrongness, and purpose of humanity at large. The whole point of college, as I saw it, was to determine one’s future, and not in the vocational sense (which is the epidemic cheapening of our higher education system) but rather the moral sense. How do I go about becoming a good and happy person? How can I be good and happy throughout my life? Perhaps the insight of Shakespeare, Aristotle, and Keats might help.

I drove from Quantico to Charlottesville on Wednesday to visit the University of Virginia, purposely avoiding the interstates to travel on the less travelled and more scenic US Highway system. In a breathless swirl of colored leaves, I discovered the Appalachian Mountain and their foothills, a dramatic and steeply rolling hills country covered with forests still unfolding the climax of autumn. The landscape was patched with horse pasture and tended fields, and occasionally I would pass through a small picturesque town.

The University of Virginia has a pretty campus. The purpose of the visit, though, was to vist a college friend doing grad school work there. It was good to touch base with her and hear what it’s like to pursue academic studies, instead of suffering through field exercises every other week. We went to dinner, then the next day I continued into North Carolina.

This was my first exposure to the south: the near-indecipherable accents spoken here, the casual omnipresent politeness (there was even a sign welcoming me to Durham which had a large orange addition asking me to “Pardon the Construction”), the coverage of Nascar on FM radio. But the charm was undeniable, especially at UNC–it’s very noticeable how friendly people are. When I went out with the other college kids, it just looked like everyone was having so much fun. I mean, people were friendly at Notre Dame, but they didn’t seek to include their bar neighbors in whatever conversation they were having. And the weather was great.

It was healing, in a way, to see these friends, too. Sometimes the best form of relaxation is merely stepping out of current life with some friends, and enjoying new places and old memories. That wasn’t exactly the purpose of this weekend especially after the Birthday Ball and my residual Marine glow. And though their results seem mutually exclusive, together they were just what I needed. And now I am ready for our upcoming war.