Can You Say "Feminist?"

The Child is father of the Man;

And I could wish my days to be

Bound each to each by natural piety.

                           -William Wordsworth

One of the most enjoyable parts of this gap year is the fact that I have more time to go to the movies than ever before. Even when we were in Italy, Matt and I went to see O.V. (Original Version) movies with Italian subtitles, like Joker and The Irishman. So one of the first things we did when we came back to Detroit was to go to the movies and see Won’t You Be My Neighbor? the fictionalized account, based on a true story, of Mr. Rogers’ encounter with the cynical journalist from Esquire magazine who wrote a story about him.

The film may be “based” on a true story, but the plot is actually more fiction than fact. The cynical journalist, named Lloyd Vogel in the movie and played by Matthew Rhys, is based on real-life journalist Tom Junod, who wrote the 1998 piece titled “Can You Say…Hero?” for Esquire. The reality ends pretty much there. In the film, Lloyd Vogel is a “broken” person, unable to handle his feelings of anger, unable to bond with his newborn son, losing himself more and more in workaholism. When the movie begins, we see Mr. Rogers showing a picture of Lloyd to his viewers – Lloyd has an injured face that wears a dazed expression, because he has just gotten into a fight with his father at his sister’s (third) wedding. Lloyd and his father are estranged; Lloyd is unable to forgive his father for abandoning his children and his dying wife, Lloyd’s mother.  Lloyd has unresolved feelings of fear, shame, hurt, and anger, which Mr. Rogers, over the course of the film, helps him start to resolve.

“What do you do with the mad that you feel?” asks Mr. Rogers in a song. Lloyd has never known what to do with the “mad,” or the “scared” that is at the root of the anger. Most men (and women, frankly) in our capitalist patriarchy have never known what to do with this, or any, emotion. “The first act of violence that patriarchy demands of males is not violence towards women,” writes bell hooks in her book,  The Will To Change: Men, Masculinity, and Love. “Instead patriarchy demands of all males that they engage in acts of psychic self-mutilation, that they kill off the emotional parts of themselves.”  After a few encounters with Mr. Rogers, including some bizarre and hilarious dream sequences in which Lloyd inhabits the Neighborhood of Make-Believe as his childhood toy, Old Rabbit, Lloyd is able to admit to his wife that his anger is a mask for fear, the fear of losing the people he loves most, especially his wife and son.  This “mask” of masculinity, the creation of a false macho persona that boys learn from early childhood, is something that Mr. Rogers utterly rejects. At one point in the film, Lloyd says something like, “Well, there’s Mr. Rogers…and then there’s you, the real you, right?” Mr. Rogers just looks blankly at him; he is the embodiment of wholeness, of integrity; the on-screen, public Mr. Rogers is the genuine man, the “real” Mr. Rogers, which is one of the reasons Mr. Rogers can be called a hero. In the words of bell hooks, “The quest for integrity is the heroic journey that can heal the masculinity crisis and prepare the hearts of men to give and receive love.”

Dr. William Pollack, a psychologist in The Mask You Live In, a documentary about the devastating harm created by American masculinity and patriarchy, explains: “The way boys are brought up makes them hide all their natural, vulnerable, empathetic feelings behind a mask of masculinity. When they’re most in pain, they can’t reach out and ask for help because they’re not allowed to.” From Mr. Rogers, Lloyd learns to lean into his vulnerable feelings and ask for help. bell hooks believes that “Men cannot speak their pain in patriarchal culture.”  In choosing to become emotionally aware and speak to his wife about his pain, Lloyd rediscovers the path to love and starts to dismantle the internalized patriarchy that has prevented him from healing.

According to hooks, feminist men can engage in parenting in a way in which their own fathers could not. “Parenting remains a setting where men can practice love as they let go of a dominator model and engage mutually with women who parent with them the children they share.” In one of the most poignant and most powerfully anti-patriarchal scenes in the film, Lloyd gets up in the middle of the night with his infant son, allowing his wife to stay asleep. As he looks into his baby’s face, he sings him a Mr. Rogers song: “I like you as you are/exactly and precisely/I think you turned out nicely/I like you as you are.” Lloyd is learning to teach his son, in the words of bell hooks, “To know from birth that simply being gives [him] value, the right to be cherished and loved.” Mr. Rogers teaches this profound spiritual truth in just about every one of his shows.

Lloyd’s ailing father, sleeping in the next room, hears the singing and calls Lloyd to him. “You know,” he says to Lloyd as he tenderly touches his grandson’s foot, “I never did that kind of thing when you were little. That mom thing.”  Lloyd immediately replies, “It’s not a mom thing.” Indeed, by the end of the film, Lloyd has decided to take a few months off work to stay home with  his child. “Feminist masculinity offers men a way to reconnect with selfhood, uncovering the essential goodness of maleness and allowing everyone, male and female, to find glory in loving manhood.” Thanks to Fred Rogers’ example of feminist masculinity, Lloyd forgives his father, learns to love his son, and most importantly, reconnects with himself.

“Enlightened men,” concludes hooks, “must claim mass media as the space of their public voice and create a progressive popular culture that will teach men how to connect with others, how to communicate, how to love.” As we drove home in the car, Matt and I racked our brains to try to think of any male role models in popular culture who do this. The only one we could think of (aside from Mr. Rogers) was Tom Hanks himself. His films are often about the best forms of masculinity. Even his war movie, Saving Private Ryan, is not about blowing away the bad guys – it’s about strength that comes from the capacity to be responsible for self and others: loyalty, honor, and friendship. “This strength,” according to hooks, “is a trait males and females need to possess.”

For, hooks reminds us, “The crisis facing men is not the crisis of masculinity, it is the crisis of patriarchal masculinity. In patriarchal culture women are as violent as men toward the groups that they have power over and can dominate freely.” Mr. Rogers, in serving as a feminist role model for both men and women, has something to teach all of us. His song, “What Do You Do With The Mad That You Feel?” ends this way: “Know that there’s something deep inside/That helps us become what we can./For a girl can be someday a woman/And a boy can be someday a man.”

Take It All

Take, Lord,

And receive all my liberty,

my memory,

my understanding,

and my entire will,

all I have and call my own.

You have given it to me,

to you, Lord, I return it.

Everything is Yours;

do with it what You will.

Give me only your love

and your grace.

That is enough for me.

                   -St. Ignatius of Loyola, The Spiritual Exercises no. 234

December 3^rd was the feast of St. Francis Xavier, one of the original Jesuits and best friend of St. Ignatius, who is our good friend, since he gave us the Spiritual Exercises, the most important of which is the Examen prayer, which is part of our Nightly Review each day. Ignatius’ followers complained that he had given them too many exercises, too many prayers for each day, and he told them if they only did one, it should be the Examen. We have found this simple “high/low” at the end of the day to be one of the most transformative prayers there is, and it’s so easy to do! Before we retire at night, we ask ourselves, “Where was I at my best today? Where did I give and receive the most love? What moments am I most grateful for?” and, “Where was I not at my best today? What could I have done better? Where did I give and receive the least love?”  Over time, this examination helps us to discern God’s will for us. This prayer ultimately led me to decide to quit my job after 30 years and try something new, because over the last couple of years at my old job, the “lows” of the day, increasingly, were things that happened at school, and the best parts of the day were things that happened when I was working with others outside of school, with Contemplative Outreach or with people in 12-Step programs. Little by little, I realized I was no longer my best self at the school that sits atop the ruins of the original Northwest School. That last year, I was, in fact, more like my worst self.

I came up with that “built on the ruins” metaphor while visiting Rome, and it feels just right to me. Most of the churches in Rome are built on the sites of older churches, or pagan temples. In fact, many of them have gone through at least two or three different phases. New religions, earthquakes, fires, invasions and lootings all contribute to new churches being built on top of old ones. This seems like a perfect metaphor for the place I worked for 30 years. The school that exists there today has been built on the ruins of the old one. Some things have been retained and cannibalized (for instance, we saw a piece of a pillar from Augustus’ bedroom holding up the roof of Santa Maria in Aracoeli, and we can still see remnants of an integrated humanities program holding up the curriculum) and others completely buried underground (like the Pata Pata or the Mithraeum underneath Santa Prisca). Invasions, new religions, and remodeling have all contributed to this new structure, and while we can sometimes see the remnants when we tour the crypt, nobody even pretends that it’s the same place any more.

So back to my story about St. Francis Xavier.

St. Francis Xavier

I’ve been doing a lot of letting go on this trip, particularly in Rome, and I have found the depths of winter in the Vatican to be particularly helpful for doing this – going to confession at St. Peter’s, getting a Papal blessing during the Angelus on the first Sunday of Advent, crawling up the Scala Sancta on my knees and praying the Rosary in the chapel at the top – all these rituals have helped me in the transition from the first half of my life to the second, from my old vocation to my new one. Since Seattle University is a Jesuit School, I thought it would be a good idea to go to the Gesu church and dedicate myself to my new path there.

There are (at least) two big Baroque Jesuit churches in Rome – the church of St. Ignatius, which was built to celebrate the canonization of the founder of the Jesuits, and the Gesu, which is the world headquarters, so to speak, of the order. It is here that St. Ignatius’ body is preserved under the most fabulous Baroque altar with a crazy machine that lowers a fancy painting of the saint in mystic ecstasy to reveal an even more fancy statue of the saint in mystic ecstasy, all underneath an incredibly fancy ceiling with a painting of – you guessed it – the saint in mystic ecstasy.  https://www.nytimes.com/2008/06/14/arts/design/14chur.htmlUnfortunately, the crazy machine is currently Out of Order, but I found this EWTN video of how it works so we could all enjoy the sight.

 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nRzDgktt-R0

Also in the Gesu church, the right arm of St. Francis Xavier is preserved in a reliquary. The rest of his body is still in Goa, but they brought his arm back to Rome as a reminder of how many people he baptized with it. It is said that St. Francis Xavier brought more people to the faith than anyone except St. Paul. You might say that he was St Ignatius’ “right hand man.” (That joke was for my Dad)

St Francis Xavier's Arm

I knelt before the scaffolding and white tarp that was covering up the tomb of St. Ignatius, and prayed the Jesuit version of the Third Step Prayer, also expressed in the Third Day song, “Take It All.” I was done trying to run the show, play God, arrange things to suit myself. Once again, I was starting over and handing everything to my Higher Power.

During the Mass, I kept glancing over at the arm of St. Francis Xavier, which is right across from the body of St. Ignatius. Afterwards, I went to thank the priest, who had already taken off his vestments (they featured a giant picture of St. Francis Xavier so I’m not surprised he wanted to get out of that) and was not even wearing a priest outfit. We have this priest counting game in Rome (that morning we had already seen 22 priests on the street) and the way he looked, I would not have even counted him!

Anyway, I went to say hi and told him I was American, and he was really jazzed and told me his name was Vasille and he was from Romania, and had been to Boston, where everyone was so kind to him. I told him how I was going to Seattle U and how it was a Jesuit school and he said, “Have you seen the rooms of St Ignatius yet?” and I said “Not yet, because they don’t open until four,” (it was just one) and he said, “Well, how about let’s go on a private tour?” and then he took us up to the rooms where St. Ignatius lived while he was in Rome and told us the whole story of the wounded warrior who became a warrior for Christ. We got to see the desk where he wrote the Spiritual Exercises, and also his death mask

Me and Father Vasilley with St Ignatius

and his shoes (which people had already cut a bunch of leather off so they could make relics) and of course the basketball court in the middle of the cloister, because as we know, you can’t be a Jesuit and not play basketball. Then Father Vasille blessed my rosary with the cheesy picture of Pope Francis (which I had bought for one euro from some guy in St. Peter’s Square) and we said our goodbyes and it was a really perfect visit and a great way to celebrate the feast of St. Francis Xavier, and start the journey during this Advent season out of darkness into the light.

Upon This Rock

There are 600 churches in Rome. That means if you visited ten churches a day, it would take you two months, without any breaks, to see them all. We have been averaging about 3-4 per day, selected from the "most important" (like the four Papal Basilicas) to the ones that happen to be right next to us (like the "Chiesa Nuova" which contains the body of St. Philip Neri, whom we visited yesterday).  We have been on a haphazard pilgrimage of sorts, in the steps of Peter and Paul, searching for various relics, like the chain that St. Peter had around his leg when he was in prison, which is on the altar at the church of San Pietro in Vincola (St. Peter in chains). This church also contains Michelangelo's statue of Moses, sculpted for the tomb of Julius II, the "Warrior Pope." It was incredibly crowded with groups of tourists, most of whom were ignoring St. Peter's chain and just looking at the Moses statue, snapping selfies and talking in loud voices. We had seen so many lovely paintings of the angel gently guiding St. Peter out of prison that we were more excited to see the chain.

St Peter's chain

We also saw a piece of Baby Jesus' crib in Santa Maria Maggiore, one of the four Papal Basilicas, with a giant (and I mean giant) sculpture of Pope Pius IX kneeling before it with a sweet smile on his face. This was a fun relic to see just before Christmas. Lots of Popes are buried in the Papal Basilicas, often competing with each other to see whose tomb or family chapel could be the most magnificent. For example, in Santa Maria Maggiore, we have the tomb of Pope Paul V, whose nephew, Cardinal Borghese, was one of the great patrons of the arts and collected as many Caravaggio paintings and Bernini sculptures as he could. Across from that is Pope Sixus' funeral chapel, equally gaudy and fancy. The gilded ceiling of this basilica was made from the first gold stolen from the New World by Columbus, presented to the Pope by King Ferdinand and Queen Isabella.

Gold Ceiling 

And of course, I had to see Bernini's statue of St. Theresa in Mystic Ecstasy - Bernini and I both think this is his best work, and I admit I did at one point think of becoming a Carmelite nun so that I could "have what she's having" as my friend Steve put it, when commenting on my Instagram photo of the sculpture.

"I'll have what she's having"

Finally, at the end of the day yesterday, we had one more church to see: Santa Pudenziana, a very old church just off the busy Via Cavour, built on the ruins of the house of a senator named Pudens, a Christian convert said to have given hospitality to St. Peter himself.  Our goal: a piece of a wooden altar table at which St. Peter is alleged to have celebrated Mass. There is also an apse mosaic from the fourth century that is very lovely, but we have seen so many mosaics at this point (including the amazing ones in Venice at St. Mark's and eight Unesco World Heritage Churches in Ravenna) so we were kind of "churched out," as Matt said.

We approached the simple ancient facade of Santa Pudenziana down some steps, with beautiful round mosaic floor, in the twilight. The door was open, but no lights were on in the main part of the church. One man sat in the back, in silent contemplation. We walked around the darkened space, looking for Peter's table. Suddenly, we heard laughing and giggling coming from behind one of the side chapels. We wandered outside to the adjacent stone building - lights came from behind the door and we peeked through. There was a locked gate to some underground vault (probably where the table was), and then another door, where we heard children's voices, laughing, and the sound of a bouncing basketball. Behind us, another door led to a small chapel - we heard the gentle notes of a guitar playing an Advent song while a few voices joined in singing, softly and sweetly, in Tagalog.

Back in the courtyard, still no table, we heard more laughter from the other side. A woman hurried out and gave us a smile. She was carrying bags of food for the homeless. I asked about the table and she said to talk to the sister inside, who was teaching a class for refugees.  "I'm gonna knock on that door," I said determinedly, "and ask where they are hiding St. Peter's altar." I cracked the door open and there was a motley group of adults, gathered around a nun at a table. They had open workbooks and were laughing as they studied either English or Italian. "Excuse me," I asked the twinkly-eyed sister, "but I'm looking for the relic of the table where St. Peter celebrated Mass."

They all grinned at me. In the other room, a priest was talking loudly on the telephone, listening to someone's sorrows, telling them to come to Mass tomorrow, and then they'd get some coffee afterwards.  "Ah," said the sister, "I've never seen such a table, but I've heard about it.  I think it's in the part of the church that's being remodeled.  And you know, in Italy, when they tell you something is being remodeled, you have to wait for an eternity." The rest of the group broke into uproarious laughter. I joined in, then thanked them and went out.

Matthew by the stairs of Santa Pudenziana

Night had fallen, and the feeling of peace and joy was palpable, as the members of the Body of Christ went about their Saturday night routines. We never saw St. Peter's table, but we saw him more clearly in that church than in all the other grand Baroque basilicas put together. All the marble and gold and statues of Popes and paintings of saints in mystic ecstasy and relics...the entire grandeur of those churches put together could not equal the weight in heaven of a single guitar string, one page in an immigrant's notebook, a plastic bag of groceries, a child's basketball, in Santa Pudenziana, tucked away beside a busy street in Rome, her members just going about their daily activities. It was more than a fitting monument to Peter, who was there and is there, the rock upon which Christ built His True Church.