The Shadow-gloom and Weight of the Sacred

It's never bothered me to be a stay-at-home dad. I've never felt emasculated. In fact, it seemed like such a natural thing, it was so obviously the right course of action for our family, that I never second guessed it. I have been surprised, though, how other people respond to this, especially other men. Usually men, in an attempt to display empathy, feel sorry for me. As if no man could ever choose to stay at home, as if that could ever be the right decision, a good decision, for a family. This isn't always the case, but most of the time, this is the response from men. But, it's out of the ordinary, I admit. The Israeli girl trying to sell me hand lotion and a finger nail file was taken aback by this revelation. It's not the norm, I understand.

Here's an interesting tidbit: the only time in history in which it was the norm for the husband to work and the wife to stay at home was roughly from the end of the Korean War to the escalation of the war in Vietnam. Historian Stephanie Coontz has written on this, among other things, in her book Marriage, A History: How Love Conquered Marriage. It's pretty dry book, but the content is nonetheless interesting. The norm throughout history has been two working parents. Prior to the 20th century (the end of the 20th century to be exact), most of the world lived in a rural setting. Both parents worked the fields. They married to gain in-laws; they had kids in order to have more productivity on the farm. I guess now both parents have to work just to make ends meet. Fortunately, Gretchen and I have plenty of options. One parent can work, the other can stay at home, if we so desire.

This encounter in the mall made me reflect on a few things about which I've been pondering over the last two years or so. Mark Love, who has been a big influence on my thinking the last few years, has described our society (American society) as one in which a person isn't worth anything unless you're producing or consuming. Your ability to produce or consume is what makes you worthwhile to our nation. These are the things that identify you as a person: your job and what you possess. This has been reiterated to me in recent months as I've been meeting a lot of new people upon our re-entry into the United States. The second question I've concistently been asked--after a queue for my name--is "What do you do?"

We simply don't know how to talk to people, how to meet people, apart from work. We don't know how to identify people apart from their work. Incidentally, Mark Love has said (hey, I said he's been a big influence) that Sabbath saves us from a lifestyle in which our value is directly tied to our ability to produce or consume. I think the practise of Sabbath is something that has been abandoned that our sociaty needs to reclaim. Sabbath has a significant place in salvation, I believe, and it is a message to which Americans, in particular, will strongly connect.

I'm trying to break free of these "What do you do?" questions. I'm trying to break free of defining people by their jobs (and by what they possess). I haven't asked "What do you do?" to a single person since relocating to the U.S. in March of this year. Instead, I ask, "What's your favorite Robert Frost poem?" Or, "What are the things most meaningful to you about being a father?" Or, "Who are your favorite musicians?" What I've found is that it was always a bad idea to try and get to know someone by their job. I'm not all that good, not yet, at identifying people with something other than their job or their possessions, but I'm moving in that direction. (I hope I'm moving in that direction.)

I guess we are a pretty unique group: a transracial family in which the mom works and the dad stays at home, but I don't think we really identify ourselves by this motif. We don't even think about these things all that much. It's normal to us. It's right to us. It's not shocking or something to be pitied. It's just us and it's working out really well.

And my favorite Robert Frost poem is "After Apple-picking."