Want to be happy? Make some friends at church:
Attending religious services regularly and having close friends in the congregation are key to having a happier, more satisfying life, a study finds.
Even attending services irregularly — just several times a year — increases a sense of well-being, so long as there is a circle of friendships within the community and a strong, shared religious identity.
That’s the key finding of a study released today in the December issue of the American Sociological Review.
December 8th, 2010 | 11:37 am
Okay, I’m new to (and perhaps not long for) the Church, but one of the first things I noticed was how vastly the Catholic concept of community differs from the everyday definition of friendship. Out in the World, we choose certain people as friends because they share our interests and temperaments and reject others because they don’t. In the Church, at least so far as I can tell, you’re supposed to be nice to everyone just ’cause they’re there.
St. Teresa of Avila summed it up when she warned Carmelite nuns against forming “particular friendships” and commanded them to “love everyone equally.”
So the Catholic Church has taken a strong stand against cliqueishness — sounds like a point in her favor, right? From a certain point of view, it is. But at least in my own experience, I’ve found that, once you shut down your powers of discrimination, you find yourself spending inordinate amounts of time with people who really get on your nerves. Speaking strictly for myself, constant exposure does not make me like them any better — rather the opposite. It’s starting to look like the Christian life means having a bottomless pool of frienemies. In other words, it’s just like life at the office, only the pay is worse.
Unsurprisingly, those people I’ve known who have really, really taken to community life seem somewhat out of their depth when it comes to relating one-on-one. There’s a permanent publicness about them; it’s hard to get anything out of them that they wouldn’t give to just anyone. I’m thinking particularly about a girl I dated. She ran our parish’s young adult ministry, and for that reason, at least half our dates took place in the midst of a mob. Remember that scene from Godfather I where Michael Corleone is dating the doomed Sicilian girl? First you see the happy couple strolling hand-in-hand, next you see about fifty villagers marching in line abreast behind them. That was us, and it drove me absolutely bonkers.
Conversely, many community-minded people seem to lack an appreciation for personal boundaries. They feel entitled, in short, to get up in your business. Here I’m thinking of one guy, kind of a bigwig in our RCIA program, in whom I’d confided some spiritual questions back when I was a candidate for baptism. He was very helpful, but also, frankly, a bit of a dork — not the sort of person I’d choose to hang out with under normal circumstances. Later on, when he invited me to pal around, I had to undertake the paniful business of blowing him off.
An off-blowing is a rotten thing, for the blowee, certainly, but also for the blower. Nobody wants to hurt anyone’s feelings. Normally, the blowee has the common decency to take the blowing with some measure of grace. After all, chances are he’s shucked off enough unsuitable companions to empathize. Not this guy. He simply would not or could not take the hint. Every week after Mass, he’d bounce over with a big Boy Scout grin on his face. Whereas the brevity of my greeting would have served a normal person as a cue to move along, this guy stuck around, trying to squeeze conversation out of me. It got so I had to go out of my way to avoid him.
Much later, he sent me an e-mail, complaining I’d become “shifty.” I wanted to respond, “No, what I’ve been all along is tactful. Otherwise I’d have told you in no uncertain terms to bugger off.” But he wouldn’t have gotten it, so I didn’t bother.
In Confessions of a Failed Southern Lady, Florence King complains of “huggybears” –progressive schoolteachers who tried to bully her out of her natural misanthopy. “They were not happy,” she writes, “unless everyone was engaged in an activity big enough to require what they called ‘give and take’, like marching on the Tuilleries with equal parts of the Princess de Lamballe’s corpse on our pikes.”
Poor Protestant Florence, Only someone unfamiliar with the Holy Eucharist would have to stretch that far for an metaphor.
December 8th, 2010 | 12:47 pm
Well, speaking as a Protestant, but not seeing how that really makes any difference on this point, it seems like charity toward all and openness toward involvement with all does not in any way preclude particular friendships. I think the nuns, in warning against a particular danger, came up with a less than helpful solution. Cliques are bad, defining one’s openness to friendship narrowly is bad, but actually having particular friends as opposed to generalized empty warm fuzzies toward all, while maintaining an openness and active charity toward all, is rather the way Jesus did it.
December 8th, 2010 | 1:00 pm
Pentamom: I’m sure you’re right technically. I suppose I meant that the constant emphasis on community tends, perhaps unintentionally, to encourage a type of extreme extroversion. My friend — yes, a particular friend! — coined the term “Irish politician” for people who simply have to know EVERYONE. In the world, they’d stand out; in the Church, they seem closer to the norm.
December 8th, 2010 | 2:20 pm
@Mooga, I guess I don’t understand your point. You meet people like you’ve described everywhere. I would say I have acted in such ways from time to time though I’m a pegged Myers Briggs introvert. Perhaps you miss the point of what Jesus called the second greatest commandment? Here’s a church full of people who agree with you on that point, though they (we) all get it wrong from time to time. They may not share my enjoyment of anime or my wife’s love of Bollywood dancing, but they are human beings like me. If I am to learn to love God, I need to learn to love them first. The ones who will interact with me because we both believe are the easy ones.
As to Teresa de Avila, you must remember the times. Younger daughters for whom a sufficient dowry could not be provided were encouraged to join nunneries. In many respects, the nunneries became places of extended childhood for rich men’s daughters. The common people around the nunnery were expected to provide support for these extended adolescents. Needless to say, the common people didn’t like it. These are things that St Teresa worked so hard to reform. Her reforms turned the nunneries into places of adulthood and, with a little help from God, into places of spirituality. But child or adult, each of the sisters was a human being.
December 8th, 2010 | 2:47 pm
Mike: You didn’t tell me anything about your background — whether you’re a convert,a re-vert or a cradle Catholic who’s been constant. But take my word that if you come into the Church as an adult, having formed your personality and expectations in the bad old World, the norms of community seem very strange. Part of the fun fun of friendship, as the World defines it, is forming a clique or a faction. You get to enjoy that sense of “you-and-me-and-him against all these other bastards.” In a faith community, even one that hasn’t formally adopted monastic behavioral norms, that sort of thing doesn’t exist. It’s frowned upon. Although I can appreciate the reasoning behind it, it goes very much against the grain of my temperament.
And yeah, I know that the nuns of sixteenth-century Spain liked to play games of “my family’s grandee-r than yours” with each other, never mind the peasants. Even though that particular conceit sounds ridiculous to me, child of my age that I am, I understand people’s need to cherish their distinctions. If gloating over your Ph.D. or your Blackberry makes it easier to get through the day, I haven’t the heart to tell you not to.
December 8th, 2010 | 3:31 pm
I’ve really enjoyed Mooga’s comments and frankness, and I tend to agree.
I do wonder if some of this comes down to extrovert vs introvert? As an adult Catholic convert and an introvert (INFP), I didn’t really enjoy the group RCIA experience (the gathering in the big hall and sitting at big tables with 8-10 folks per table and general topic lectures), though I did enjoy having a sponsor and meeting individual people. The RCIA weekend retreats we did were okay, but I would rather do a silent retreat (individual) instead of something like an ACTS retreat (group). I’m not misanthropic like Florence King (God love her): I like individuals, not crowds.
As an introvert I seek one-to-one relationships both inside the Church and outside in the world. I’d go bonkers if I sought out group experiences. Though Mass could be called a group experience, I prefer to go alone and it suits me (and, yes, I prefer the less attended Daily Masses). On occasion I’ll see someone and sit with them, but I rarely feel the need to phone up someone and make plans to go to Mass.
While I have made many good friends at Church (through RCIA, Renew, etc), it seems that none of us attend Mass at the same time — my parish has seven Sunday Masses. So I don’t typically find my buddies in the pews, though I have found them at Church.
December 8th, 2010 | 4:36 pm
Thanks, Chris. I’m somewhat new to First Things. Most of the readers — and, God knows, all of the contributing writers — seem to be writing from a very different place than the one I’m in. They’re sold on the Church and all her trappings, and are quite eager to defend them against all comers. Whenever I write from my experience as an ambivalent seeker, I wonder, “Will people take me for a troll and maul me?” Whenever someone responds as generously as you just did, I gain a little confidence.
Your RCIA class sounds like a mess. Mine was relatively small — maybe ten people, plus sponsors. People were very respectful to each other. It was understood that we all had some very important issues to think through, and needed not to be crowded or pounced on.
I think you’re right that people need to recognize and own their peculiar relational styles as they search for niches in the Church. What works for one person is going to feel like hell on earth for another. (Consider the contrasting accounts of Opus Dei life: some found it warm and caring, others stifling and oppressive. It seems obvious to me these are just two subjective reactions to a single set of circumstances.) Still, at least based on what I’ve seen with my own eyes — which, granted, isn’t that much — the most readily available means of connection tend to favor the gregarious.
December 8th, 2010 | 5:09 pm
@Mooga
I was born into the Church, French-Canadian-Mexican that I am, but I left for a couple of years in college. I came back because it made far more sense to me than anything on offer in the rest of the world. I stay because of the depth of the well. There’s so much to learn and it all holds together though it’s had 2K years to fall apart. I am a software engineer who tests. I only have an MS and that obtained after 12 years in the Navy including 6 as an enlisted. Though a software engineer, I only use a prepaid cell occasionally and my PDA is paper. OTOH, I do have six computers at home and only one TV.
As to friendships, I am well aware of what is out in the world.The fortress mentality is a common one. My own introversion has kept me out of it for the most part, though my Hispanic name has also had its effect, that combined with the fact that I speak little Spanish. Fear of differences is big in the world at large.
I am a somewhat active Knight of Columbus. I know many of the other Knights though none are (yet) close friends. I don’t seek such friendship but I’m not against it happening either. I read at Mass and have, on and off, for over 40 years from when English was first introduced.
From my viewpoint, Jesus’ call is radical: give it all up and come follow me. I have as much trouble giving it up as the next human, but then He gave us Confession (the old-fashioned word). He said, “Love your neighbor…” and used a story about an heretical Samaritan to illustrate it. What group of people do you like the least? Imagine Jesus telling you that story with such a person as the star.
December 8th, 2010 | 5:56 pm
Mike:
First of all, please don’t think I meant you, personally, when I spoke of people who like to gloat over fancy cell phones or advanced degrees. It was a general, editorial “you” — nothing more. You, Mike, seem like a very nice guy. (But if you still should want to gloat, from time to time, that’s cool with me.)
It’s starting to look like and have experienced two radically different types of conversion. Yours involved a plunge right into the deep end. The radical quality of Jesus’ call is what inspires you, and you subordinate every other concern to that of answering it.
Mine’s a different, to say the least. In a way I can’t even explain, I felt called. The call baffled me when I first perceived it, and it’s continued to baffle me ever since. I have to weigh it constantly against my own character and often, my own conscience.
Your conversion may be the more complete one, the more radical one, even the better one. But I’ve got to do metanoia my own way. Very often, that means examining some feature of Church teaching, or even everyday Church life and asking, “How can I reconcile this with the understanding I’ve gained through experience?”
By your standards, it probably looks inefficient, even self-indulgent, but it’s what I’ve got.
December 9th, 2010 | 7:33 am
@Mooga
Indeed, we all need to meet God where we are. I sometimes wonder what I’m missing because I didn’t feel a call, a conversion experience, and being human envy those that do. But not to worry, Mooga, there’s more than enough God to go around with all of Him left over as well.
Oh, as to the use of the ubiquitous “you”, I try to invert it by saying “we” or the more formal “one”. That avoids much misundertanding.
December 9th, 2010 | 11:31 am
I think the phenomenon you described, Mooga, might be more sociological than doctrinal. Churches, and especially ministries like RCIA, can be havens for people with poor social skills, because they can offer a substitute for genuine friendship. For example, RCIA (depending on who’s in charge of it) sometimes formalizes or institutionalizes what occurs spontaneously and naturally in a real friendship: things like sharing your thoughts about the universe, sharing your most intimate feelings/fears, etc. If you don’t have the skills to make or sustain friendships on your own, maybe that’s a decent alternative.
That doesn’t mean that you’ve got any obligation to be friends with anybody you’re not really friends with. Charity demands a kind of universal good will, but it certainly doesn’t demand universal friendship. Even Jesus had some disciples with whom he was more intimate than his other disciples: the beloved disciple, for example, or the little group to whom he revealed his transfigured self.
December 10th, 2010 | 2:19 pm
I also appreciated Mooga’s frankness. I think there is a great deal in CS Lewis that you would find both wryly entertaining, but also helpful. You might feel upbraided by sections of Screwtape, The Weight of Glory, or The inner Ring. But you would equally be amused and supported by sections of The Great Divorce and God in The Dock. Sample quote: “She was the sort of person who lived for others. You could tell the others by their hunted look.”
December 10th, 2010 | 3:35 pm
I should have added that one of the main things that causes me to hold the Roman Catholic Church at arm’s length is how poorly it does community, at least in this part of America. Its structure seems designed for a village or parish in which everyone encounters each other throughout the week, reserving sacred time together where they interact little in the flesh in order to more fully worship corporately in the spirit. In the absence of contact during the week, however, what remains is a theory of corporateness (and perhaps an unseen reality of same) but a reality of separateness. Everyone arrives and leaves with only the mildest of polite greeting, other parish events are attended by the few. Protestant churches are not always shining models of community, but they at least have something on the shelves.
As to cliquishness, false bonhomie, boundarilessness, lack of privacy and all the rest, Mooga seems to have fallen into a church sector which believes that “what works for me must work for you too, Moogs. It’s the right way.” No church (officially) forbids close friendship. No church forbids being a reserved sort of person. You may seek the like-minded for social needs and support, so long as you recognise the danger and counterpoint: one can fall into cliquishness without realising; one should be ready and available to the call of the Holy Spirit, who may put someone irritating or very unlike you into your field of fellowship.
But he won’t put all of them in equally! You must be prepared to embrace any of them, not all of them – except perhaps for a specific task or season.
December 10th, 2010 | 5:07 pm
Tim: You’re right that this stuff isn’t doctrinal. I’d call it cultural. Naturally, most Catholics prefer to relate to one another like, well, like normal people. But the emphasis on community, as you say, creates a haven for those who lack the skills to do that.
From what I understand, social misfits are the bane of actual monastic life. A religious sister once told me that emotionaly needy people could wreck a community without half trying. She belonged to an actie, apostolic order, too. I wince to think what havoc a drama queen could wreak in a cloister.
AVI: I have just one thing to say re: the Lewis quote: “Oh, snap!”
My home parish isn’t nearly as insensitive to individual temperaments as I must have made it sound. I just happen to be one of those people who attracts the unattractive, and hates having to repel them. Just my luck, I guess.
When it comes to building community, what could Catholic parishes learn from Protestant churches?
December 11th, 2010 | 3:37 pm
I’m a new Catholic as of this past Easter and my limited experience has been different. Possibly because I’m in a restrained situation as caregiver for my 95 year old mom and am unable to attend a weekend mass.
I have not really found the kind of community you describe. My RCIA group was small and a great group and went really well until it was integrated with a much larger (40+) group of young people who only needed confirmation. The last half of RCIA, at least to me, went off the rails and I had to fight a strong urge to not go through with the entrance into the church. I also realized that I perhaps needed a small, more traditional church, and changed. I found a church who has mass at noon on weekdays and am able to attend the Latin rite every week but that is all I am able to do at this time.
What you describe has been much more evident in Protestant churches from my experience.
Links
Blogs
Find Us
Contact