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'THE PRIVILEGE OF BEING A MAN'
By Matt C. Abbott
RenewAmerica
http://www.renewamerica.com/c olumns/abbott/091008
October 8, 2009
The following is a reprint of an article titled "The Privilege of
Being a Man," written by Catholic author and professor Mitchell
Kalpakgian, that appears in the summer 2009 issue of Catholic Men's
Quarterly. Thanks to John Moorehouse, publisher of CMQ, for allowing
me to reprint Dr. Kalpakgian's article.
This title is inspired by Alice von Hildebrand's The Privilege of
Being a Woman (Sapientia Press, 2002), a masterpiece that defends the
greatness of womanhood and captures the essence of the feminine genius
while it exposes the fallacies of feminist ideology. For example,
Dr. von Hildebrand, alluding to St. Teresa of Avila, comments that
"more women than men receive extraordinary graces . . . they are more
receptive to God's voice and particularly capable of heroic donation
when their heart is purified." Referring to Chesterton, she remarks
that women "grasp intuitively the meaning and value of suffering"
better than men.
Women, despite their nature as the weaker sex, possess a unique power:
"Their weakness appeals to pity; it can touch men's hearts and
appeal to what is best in them, namely, their chivalrous instinct
to help those weaker than themselves." A woman's beauty and charm
exert such irresistible appeal that they can bring a man "to his
knees," and innocent young daughters possess "a sweetness and charm
that most fathers cannot resist." At the marriage at Cana, Christ
could not refuse the appeal of His Blessed Mother when she observed,
"They have no wine."
As Dr. von Hildebrand explains, Saint Edith Stein observed that women
are more interested in the personal, the concrete, and the particular
than in the abstract or the universal, and woman's intuitive mind
grasps reality "in wholes than in parts": "Their minds do not dissect
an object; they grasp it in totality."
Another virtue of the feminine sensibility is the f mind and heart,
women's minds thinking at their best "when animated by their hearts"
and possessing a human wisdom that surpasses specialization and
scholarship. Because of woman's gift of receptivity -- "an alert,
awakened, joyful readiness to be fecundated by another person or
by a beautiful object" -- God "touches" a woman in a most intimate
way at the moment of conception and grants her this "extraordinary
privilege of carrying two souls in her body" and of cooperating
with God's creative power. These are some of the God-given, natural
privileges that endow women with powers and talents that men either
lack or possess in lesser degree.
What, then, is the privilege of being a man? Men of course vary from
saints, heroes, and knights to brutes, boors, and fops, but true
manhood possesses its special essence just as womanhood enjoys its
unique nature. For one thing, man enjoys the privilege of leadership or
initiation. The Greek word signifying to act, archein, means to begin,
to take the first step. "The beginning is more than half of the whole"
as Aristotle said. That is, to act does not mean to organize a perfect,
detailed plan with safeguards against all contingencies or to have
special foresight into the future that eliminates all problems.
A man discovers a great cause, feels moved by a noble ideal, falls in
love, or desires a great good that appeals to him. St. Benedict acts
and founds his illustrious, enduring rule and monastic order that
preserved Western civilization; he takes the first step that begins
a chain of events that God and nature assist as a small mustard seed
grows into a great plant.
Similarly, a man notices the beauty of a woman and feels attraction. He
takes one step, initiates conversation, asks her to dance, asks
for a date and invites her to dinner, and begins a courtship. Having
fallen in love, he eventually asks his beloved to marry him. A romance,
engagement, marriage, children, and family follow because man initiated
an action, took a chance, felt a sense of daring, and leap ntees. This
is one of the traits of manhood that makes it a privilege -- the
courage of convictions that is not ruled by fear or doubt. To be
a man is not to worry about everything but to heed Christ's words:
"Do not be anxious about your life."
A second privilege of being a man is a physical and mental strength to
accomplish difficult things and to endure heavy crosses that demand
patience, perseverance, and endurance. Yes, there are weak, ignoble,
and cowardly men, but that is not the true mark of masculinity. Strong
men depend on themselves -- on their own will power and hard work,
on their intelligence and resourcefulness, and on their self-reliance
and imagination to manage their affairs or to carry the burdens and
responsibilities of others who need their protection.
In Virgil's Aeneid the Trojan hero Aeneas, ready to fight for his
country and attack the invading Greeks, nevertheless leaves the burning
city to protect his wife, young son, and aging father in a poignant
scene where he holds the boy by the hand, carries his father on his
shoulders, and looks back to guard his wife:
'Then come, dear father. Arms around my neck: I'll take you on my
shoulders, no great weight. Whatever happens, both will face one
danger, Find one safety. Iulus will come with me, My wife at a good
interval behind.'
This image from Virgil captures man's desire to serve others first and
place himself last. Will Durant, the historian who wrote The Story
of Civilization, explains this virtue in a more whimsical way. He
observes that, according to perennial wisdom, women are the slaves
of children and men are the slaves of women. However, men themselves
have no slaves to complete their tasks.
Noble men, of course, are not literally the "slaves" of their wives
or children, but they do not complain about suffering burdens or
performing menial tasks, whether walking a colicky child during the
early morning hours or driving children three hours to a swim meet
competition that lasts five minutes. Strong men do not beg for slav
k or whine about doing their duty. They value the privilege to serve
women and children and others who depend upon them. This virtue of
chivalry makes men honorable, knightly, and magnanimous as the famous
Don Quixote demonstrated -- the knight of the rueful countenance who
vowed fidelity to his beloved Dulcinea and pledged the defense of
widows and orphans regardless of the mortifications or defeats he
suffered for his ideals.
Men possess an enormous sense of humor, laugh easily at themselves
and at the folly of others, and enjoy teasing and being teased with
a light touch. Real men never take themselves too seriously because
they acknowledge their weaknesses and know their limitations. Marriage
humbles men as their wives remind husbands of their faults all too
often. The words "human," "humility," and "humor" all derive from
the same Latin root as "humus" meaning dirt. Because men can laugh
at their foibles, listen to the recitation of their faults, and have
no illusions about their perfections, they tend to be more "down to
earth" in the dirt than lost in the clouds of illusion.
What great comedians and wits we have in witty men like Chaucer,
Shakespeare, Dr. Johnson, and G.K. Chesterton! Chaucer is unafraid
of ridiculing hypocritical, avaricious and lustful priests. In "The
General Prologue" he satirizes the friar: "He knew the taverns well
in every town, and cared more for every innkeeper and barmaid than
for a leper or a beggar." Shakespeare mocks silly conventions like
courtly love and grimly grave characters like Malvolio ("Dost thou
think, because thou art virtuous, there shall be no more cakes and
ale?"). Dr. Johnson unmasks pretentious language and exaggeration he
calls "cant." In response to David Hume and Samuel Foote who boasted
they were not afraid of death, Johnson remarked, "it is not true,
Sir. Hold a pistol to Foote's breast, or to Hume's breast, and threaten
to kill them, and you'll see how they behave." Chesterton makes the
famous remark that "Angels can fly because they can take themselve
mused at their wives than women are of their husbands, laughing at
women's habits like arranging an immaculate home before going on
a vocation but tolerating a chaotic household in daily life. The
privilege of being a man is the expansive capacity to see silliness,
comedy, and nonsense everywhere and to tolerate fools gladly. As Henry
Fielding, the great satirist who wrote Tom Jones, expresses this male
comic vision, "And perhaps there is one reason why a comic writer
should of all others be the least excused for deviating from nature
. . .," namely, "life everywhere furnishes an accurate observer with
the ridiculous."
Men, of course, are renowned for their hearty appetites and relish
food and drink with exceptional gusto. They never cease to enjoy the
simple pleasures and the innocent delights of the flesh. Fastidiousness
about food and drink is not a normal male trait, but rather a robust
craving for delicious meals in generous portions offers them some of
life's greatest happiness.
Homer's depiction of food in the scenes of hospitality from the Odyssey
epitomizes the essence of civilization and the height of happiness,
"something like perfection" that occurs on the occasion of the feast:
"A maid came with water in a beautiful golden ewer and poured it over
a silver basin so that they could rinse their hands. She also drew a
wooden table to their side, and the staid housekeeper brought some
bread and set it by them with a choice of delicacies, helping them
liberally to all she had. Meanwhile, a carver dished up for them
on platters slices of various meats he had selected from his board,
and put gold cups beside them."
Because of this male passion for hearty food and drink, happiness
comes easily to men who derive great contentment at the table and look
forward all day for the sumptuousness of the flavors and aromas that
await them at their meals. Mothers generally tend to enjoy cooking
for their sons more than their daughters, and women always consider
it a compliment to their cooking when men savor their co s they praise
her culinary art.
Men's love of sports, whether it is fishing, hunting, golf, horse
racing, or baseball, keeps them boyish and young at heart. They enjoy
the privilege of preserving the innocence of their childhood and fondly
reminisce about the pastimes and recreations of their boyhood. They
never forget that stage in life that Shakespeare alludes to as "boy
eternal," the fun-loving care-freeness of a Huck Finn or Tom Sawyer
always ready for an adventure or spontaneous fun. They organize youth
sports, coach their children's teams, share their knowledge of the
game, and relive their childhood through their passion for athletics.
Izaac Walton's The Complete Angler (1676) captures this spirit of the
innocent fun of being "boy eternal" as businessmen living an active
life go fishing and receive a myriad of spiritual and physical benefits
from their favorite recreation: "Twas an imployment for his idle time,
which was not then Idlely spent: for angling was, after tedious Study,
a rest to his mind, a cheerer of his spirits, a diverter of sadnesse,
a calmer of unquiet thoughts, a moderator of passions, a procurer
of contentedness; and that it begot habits of peace and patience in
those that profess'd and practis'd it."
The privilege of being a man is that his happiness consists in the
sum of little things: the outdoors, a favorite sport, a good friend,
a delicious meal, and all seems well with the world. As one sportsman
says in Walton's book, "Fish to morrow, and sup together, and the next
day every man leave Fishing, and fall to his businesse." It takes so
little to please a normal man.
Another special privilege of being a man is that he does not have to
be ruled by fashion or be preoccupied about clothes or style. Compared
to women, most men own a limited wardrobe and only a few combinations
of apparel. Jackets, slacks, shirts and ties do not radically go
out of vogue. Other than basic grooming, cleanliness, haircuts, and
shaves, manly men do not spend inordinate time preening themselves
or modifyi shion.
In general, men who are not foppish do not think of themselves as
beautiful, lovely, or glamorous and thus are saved from the snare of
vanity. They do not gaze at their reflections and ask, "Mirror, mirror
on the wall, who is the fairest of them all?" Like Huckleberry Finn,
men never lose their opposition to being excessively "proper" according
to conventions of rigid formality and etiquette. Huck comments, "The
widow Douglas, she took me for her son, and allowed she would sivilize
me; but it was rough living in the house, considering how dismal
regular and decent the widow was in all her ways; . . . I got into
my old rags, and my sugar-hogshead again, and was free and satisfied."
Unlike women, men never look forward to getting dressed up and
appearing in elegant clothing for special occasions. Consequently,
men spend less money on clothing, worry less about appearance, and
hardly think about what they will wear tomorrow or for the party they
are attending. They enjoy this greater freedom from the dictates of
the fashion world.
Another masculine advantage is insensibility -- not coarseness,
callousness or hardheartedness. Men's feelings are not hurt so easily,
and they are rarely guilty of touchiness -- taking offense easily
when no offense was intended. This lack of delicacy serves them well
in political debates and honest arguments. In Life on the Mississippi
Mark Twain the cub pilot -- hearing a shipmate on the steamboat roar,
"Here, now, start that gangplank for'ard! Lively, now! What're you
about?" -- comments, "I wished I could talk like that."
Dr. Johnson's Literary Club which met regularly at the Mitre tavern in
London for dinner, friendship, and conversation engaged in vigorous,
heated discussion and exchanges of wit that required the risk of defeat
or laughter. Johnson blames Oliver Goldsmith's irritable temper because
"he is so much mortified" when he does not excel in conversation. When
Goldsmith enters into arguments, "if he does not get the better,
he is miserably vexed" -- a hyperse ity to losing or failing that
Johnson finds too delicate for the masculine nature.. Preciosity or
perfectionism is a rare disease among men whose mastery of detail or
nuance or the je ne sais quoi is notoriously lacking.
Shakespeare's bluff Hotspur from Henry IV captures this unceremonious
roughness both when he remarks, "By God, I cannot flatter; I do
defy/ The tongues of soothers," and when he bluntly speaks his
mind to his wife Kate: "Swear me, Kate, like a lady as thou art, /
A good mouth-filling oath, and leave 'in sooth,'/ And such protest
of pepper-gingerbread, / To velvet guards and Sunday citizens."
The privilege of being a man allows him not to be preoccupied with
polished diction, mincing words, or elegant expression as Chaucer's
Canterbury Tales famously illustrates. When the avaricious pardoner
attempts to cheat the pilgrims with trinkets he calls "relics," the
host thunders, "Stop this, it won't do, as I hope to prosper! You
would make me kiss your old breeches, and swear they were the relics
of a saint, though they were foully stained by your bottom!"
These privileges, however, are only the minor perquisites of
manhood. The greatest honor of the male species is the title of husband
and father. In awe and wonder man contemplates the miracle of woman's
beauty and desires her love with a longing that pierces the soul. When
he falls in love with his beloved and proposes marriage, he finds in
this one woman a dream come true, a miracle from heaven. In his eyes
she embodies the essence of all female virtues of mind, body, heart,
and soul, and he begins to understand the transcendental nature of
love as the poets write about it. As Romeo said of Juliet, "She doth
teach the torches to burn bright!/ It seems she hangs upon the cheek
of night/ As a jewel in an Ethiope's ear -- / Beauty too rare for use,
for earth too dear."
He cannot believe that God has blessed him with this most precious
gift that surpasses his wildest hopes and dreams. Yes, he always
noticed lovely women. Yes, he always thought he wa se he wanted to
marry someone who attracted him. But never in his life did he imagine
anyone so beautiful, ideal, and perfect would want to marry him and
honor him with the privilege of being her husband. How could this
be? The privilege of being a man is to behold the miracle of love,
to contemplate the divine nature of beauty incarnate in the loveliness
of woman, and to "taste and see the goodness of the Lord."
In short, just as woman intimately senses the touch of God when she
conceives a child, man feels the personal hand of God when he discovers
the woman God created for him to marry. In this experience of heaven
on earth, man encounters the intense love of God for each individual
soul and naturally responds with profound gratitude, thinking like
Augustine "Thou lovest us, Lord, as if we were the only one," and
thinking like St. Paul, "Eye has not seen, nor ear heard, neither
has it entered into the mind of man, to conceive of the things God
has prepared for those who love him."
A man's privilege of fatherhood also exalts him with a great honor. In
his human fatherhood he is an icon of God the father. The power of
God's word creates the world when He utters, "'Let there be light';
and there was light." The power of a man's word creates a family
when he asks, "Will you marry me?" And there was marriage. The God
of creation in his bountiful fruitfulness creates light, sky, land,
seas, plants, trees, sun, moon, stars, animals, and man and woman. A
man in love with a generous heart fathers a family and imitates God
when he is fruitful and multiplies according to God's purpose for
marriage. God not only creates and multiplies but also provides and
cares for all of His creation.
Man as husband and father also provides for his family, exercising the
foresight of prudence and always thinking ahead of the future happiness
and protection of his family. God is not only a father in His Divine
Providence but also a teacher, ruler, and defender of His chosen people
in the Old Testament. A human father too enjoys these n God's ways,
ruling them with justice and mercy, and defending and protecting them
from evil influences that attack the family and rob children of their
innocence. There is nothing that a good father will not do for his
family. As St. Therese the Little Flower writes in her autobiography
The Story of a Soul, children expect everything from their father,
and believers honor God by expecting great things from Him.
In Shakespeare's The Tempest, Prospero, the epitome of wise and loving
fatherhood, uses the art of "magic" (power and knowledge) that he
derives from his books to bring civilization out of anarchy -- light
out of darkness -- when he is shipwrecked on an island. As a man he
governs his island and as a father he rules his family as God orders
the world -- with wisdom, justice, mercy, and love. With providential
wisdom Prospero allows Ferdinand to marry his daughter only when he
has proven his worthiness. With stern justice he punishes evildoers
who plot murder. With kind mercy he forgives all who repent and show
contrition: "The rarer action is/ In virtue than in vengeance. They
being penitent, / The sole drift of my purpose doth extend/ Not a
frown further." And with miraculous love Prospero brings good out of
evil, transforming a tragic shipwreck into a joyful marriage and an
occasion of happy reconciliation.
It is a privilege of manhood to use power and knowledge creatively
to produce beautiful works as God does and to fight evil in all
its forms. In educating and refining his daughter Miranda, Prospero
has created a work of art, a masterpiece, which the word "Miranda"
(meaning miraculous or wonderful) signifies as Ferdinand's praise
indicates: "Admir'd Miranda!/ Indeed the top of admiration."
To govern a family, to civilize children, to order the society
of a household for the common good, and to punish with justice and
forgive with mercy require the arts of manhood that Shakespeare calls
"magic" in his play -- all the talents and skills a loving father
incorporates to achieve the masterpiece of and a civilized world. It
is a privilege of being a man, then, to make the fullest use and to
exercise constantly all of his powers -- physical, intellectual,
spiritual, and emotional -- in the creation of works of art that
emulate God's wonders.
A final privilege of being a man is the honor of dying for those
he loves. "Husbands, love your wives, as Christ loved the church,"
St. Paul writes. After the apostle enjoins women to obey their
husbands, he commands men to love their wives with the willingness
to sacrifice their lives for them as Christ died in his passion for
the Church, God's kingdom in this world.
In Homer's Odyssey Odysseus risks his life to return to his home
in Ithaca to defend his family from the barbarian suitors, almost
drowned in the sea by a vengeful god and nearly killed by the savage
Cyclops. In the Iliad the honorable Hector in the defense of Troy and
his family duels with the formidable Achilles in the full knowledge
of his impending death: "I have made up my mind to fight you man to
man and kill you or be killed." The apostles and martyrs who preached
and lived the Gospel knew that the imitation of Christ always incurred
the risk of death: "If they hated me, they will hate you."
The profession of knighthood likewise follows the ideal of service
that requires not only, in Chaucer's description of the true knight,
"chivalry, truth, and honor, generosity and courtesy" but also
fearlessness in battle as the knight's bloodstained breastplates
signify from combat in many wars: "He had fought in fifteen large
battles, in addition to the three times he had defended our faith in
Algeria, and each time he had killed his opponent." This privilege of
manhood, the chance to "give all" as King Lear says, is the essence
of the male character. Real men exemplify liberality in every form
from generosity with money to the gift of self for a noble ideal
to the courage of dying for truth or justice as fathers, soldiers,
knights, and martyrs do in their joy of being men.
If only the radical feminists a some of these truths about the male of
the species, the relations between the sexes would return to normal,
love and romance would return to an unchivalrous world, marriage and
children would flourish, and everyone would recognize once again the
normal, the human, and the natural.
[Mitchell Kalpakgian is the new editor of Catholic Men's Quarterly. A
politically incorrect professor of 40 years experience, most recently
at Wyoming Catholic College, Dr. Kalpakgian is a teacher of wisdom
and virtue (read: literature). He is the author of three books:
The Mysteries of Life in Children's Literature (Neumann Press),
An Armenian Family Reunion (Neumann Press), and The Marvelous in
Fielding's Novels (University Press of America).]
By Matt C. Abbott
RenewAmerica
http://www.renewamerica.com/c olumns/abbott/091008
October 8, 2009
The following is a reprint of an article titled "The Privilege of
Being a Man," written by Catholic author and professor Mitchell
Kalpakgian, that appears in the summer 2009 issue of Catholic Men's
Quarterly. Thanks to John Moorehouse, publisher of CMQ, for allowing
me to reprint Dr. Kalpakgian's article.
This title is inspired by Alice von Hildebrand's The Privilege of
Being a Woman (Sapientia Press, 2002), a masterpiece that defends the
greatness of womanhood and captures the essence of the feminine genius
while it exposes the fallacies of feminist ideology. For example,
Dr. von Hildebrand, alluding to St. Teresa of Avila, comments that
"more women than men receive extraordinary graces . . . they are more
receptive to God's voice and particularly capable of heroic donation
when their heart is purified." Referring to Chesterton, she remarks
that women "grasp intuitively the meaning and value of suffering"
better than men.
Women, despite their nature as the weaker sex, possess a unique power:
"Their weakness appeals to pity; it can touch men's hearts and
appeal to what is best in them, namely, their chivalrous instinct
to help those weaker than themselves." A woman's beauty and charm
exert such irresistible appeal that they can bring a man "to his
knees," and innocent young daughters possess "a sweetness and charm
that most fathers cannot resist." At the marriage at Cana, Christ
could not refuse the appeal of His Blessed Mother when she observed,
"They have no wine."
As Dr. von Hildebrand explains, Saint Edith Stein observed that women
are more interested in the personal, the concrete, and the particular
than in the abstract or the universal, and woman's intuitive mind
grasps reality "in wholes than in parts": "Their minds do not dissect
an object; they grasp it in totality."
Another virtue of the feminine sensibility is the f mind and heart,
women's minds thinking at their best "when animated by their hearts"
and possessing a human wisdom that surpasses specialization and
scholarship. Because of woman's gift of receptivity -- "an alert,
awakened, joyful readiness to be fecundated by another person or
by a beautiful object" -- God "touches" a woman in a most intimate
way at the moment of conception and grants her this "extraordinary
privilege of carrying two souls in her body" and of cooperating
with God's creative power. These are some of the God-given, natural
privileges that endow women with powers and talents that men either
lack or possess in lesser degree.
What, then, is the privilege of being a man? Men of course vary from
saints, heroes, and knights to brutes, boors, and fops, but true
manhood possesses its special essence just as womanhood enjoys its
unique nature. For one thing, man enjoys the privilege of leadership or
initiation. The Greek word signifying to act, archein, means to begin,
to take the first step. "The beginning is more than half of the whole"
as Aristotle said. That is, to act does not mean to organize a perfect,
detailed plan with safeguards against all contingencies or to have
special foresight into the future that eliminates all problems.
A man discovers a great cause, feels moved by a noble ideal, falls in
love, or desires a great good that appeals to him. St. Benedict acts
and founds his illustrious, enduring rule and monastic order that
preserved Western civilization; he takes the first step that begins
a chain of events that God and nature assist as a small mustard seed
grows into a great plant.
Similarly, a man notices the beauty of a woman and feels attraction. He
takes one step, initiates conversation, asks her to dance, asks
for a date and invites her to dinner, and begins a courtship. Having
fallen in love, he eventually asks his beloved to marry him. A romance,
engagement, marriage, children, and family follow because man initiated
an action, took a chance, felt a sense of daring, and leap ntees. This
is one of the traits of manhood that makes it a privilege -- the
courage of convictions that is not ruled by fear or doubt. To be
a man is not to worry about everything but to heed Christ's words:
"Do not be anxious about your life."
A second privilege of being a man is a physical and mental strength to
accomplish difficult things and to endure heavy crosses that demand
patience, perseverance, and endurance. Yes, there are weak, ignoble,
and cowardly men, but that is not the true mark of masculinity. Strong
men depend on themselves -- on their own will power and hard work,
on their intelligence and resourcefulness, and on their self-reliance
and imagination to manage their affairs or to carry the burdens and
responsibilities of others who need their protection.
In Virgil's Aeneid the Trojan hero Aeneas, ready to fight for his
country and attack the invading Greeks, nevertheless leaves the burning
city to protect his wife, young son, and aging father in a poignant
scene where he holds the boy by the hand, carries his father on his
shoulders, and looks back to guard his wife:
'Then come, dear father. Arms around my neck: I'll take you on my
shoulders, no great weight. Whatever happens, both will face one
danger, Find one safety. Iulus will come with me, My wife at a good
interval behind.'
This image from Virgil captures man's desire to serve others first and
place himself last. Will Durant, the historian who wrote The Story
of Civilization, explains this virtue in a more whimsical way. He
observes that, according to perennial wisdom, women are the slaves
of children and men are the slaves of women. However, men themselves
have no slaves to complete their tasks.
Noble men, of course, are not literally the "slaves" of their wives
or children, but they do not complain about suffering burdens or
performing menial tasks, whether walking a colicky child during the
early morning hours or driving children three hours to a swim meet
competition that lasts five minutes. Strong men do not beg for slav
k or whine about doing their duty. They value the privilege to serve
women and children and others who depend upon them. This virtue of
chivalry makes men honorable, knightly, and magnanimous as the famous
Don Quixote demonstrated -- the knight of the rueful countenance who
vowed fidelity to his beloved Dulcinea and pledged the defense of
widows and orphans regardless of the mortifications or defeats he
suffered for his ideals.
Men possess an enormous sense of humor, laugh easily at themselves
and at the folly of others, and enjoy teasing and being teased with
a light touch. Real men never take themselves too seriously because
they acknowledge their weaknesses and know their limitations. Marriage
humbles men as their wives remind husbands of their faults all too
often. The words "human," "humility," and "humor" all derive from
the same Latin root as "humus" meaning dirt. Because men can laugh
at their foibles, listen to the recitation of their faults, and have
no illusions about their perfections, they tend to be more "down to
earth" in the dirt than lost in the clouds of illusion.
What great comedians and wits we have in witty men like Chaucer,
Shakespeare, Dr. Johnson, and G.K. Chesterton! Chaucer is unafraid
of ridiculing hypocritical, avaricious and lustful priests. In "The
General Prologue" he satirizes the friar: "He knew the taverns well
in every town, and cared more for every innkeeper and barmaid than
for a leper or a beggar." Shakespeare mocks silly conventions like
courtly love and grimly grave characters like Malvolio ("Dost thou
think, because thou art virtuous, there shall be no more cakes and
ale?"). Dr. Johnson unmasks pretentious language and exaggeration he
calls "cant." In response to David Hume and Samuel Foote who boasted
they were not afraid of death, Johnson remarked, "it is not true,
Sir. Hold a pistol to Foote's breast, or to Hume's breast, and threaten
to kill them, and you'll see how they behave." Chesterton makes the
famous remark that "Angels can fly because they can take themselve
mused at their wives than women are of their husbands, laughing at
women's habits like arranging an immaculate home before going on
a vocation but tolerating a chaotic household in daily life. The
privilege of being a man is the expansive capacity to see silliness,
comedy, and nonsense everywhere and to tolerate fools gladly. As Henry
Fielding, the great satirist who wrote Tom Jones, expresses this male
comic vision, "And perhaps there is one reason why a comic writer
should of all others be the least excused for deviating from nature
. . .," namely, "life everywhere furnishes an accurate observer with
the ridiculous."
Men, of course, are renowned for their hearty appetites and relish
food and drink with exceptional gusto. They never cease to enjoy the
simple pleasures and the innocent delights of the flesh. Fastidiousness
about food and drink is not a normal male trait, but rather a robust
craving for delicious meals in generous portions offers them some of
life's greatest happiness.
Homer's depiction of food in the scenes of hospitality from the Odyssey
epitomizes the essence of civilization and the height of happiness,
"something like perfection" that occurs on the occasion of the feast:
"A maid came with water in a beautiful golden ewer and poured it over
a silver basin so that they could rinse their hands. She also drew a
wooden table to their side, and the staid housekeeper brought some
bread and set it by them with a choice of delicacies, helping them
liberally to all she had. Meanwhile, a carver dished up for them
on platters slices of various meats he had selected from his board,
and put gold cups beside them."
Because of this male passion for hearty food and drink, happiness
comes easily to men who derive great contentment at the table and look
forward all day for the sumptuousness of the flavors and aromas that
await them at their meals. Mothers generally tend to enjoy cooking
for their sons more than their daughters, and women always consider
it a compliment to their cooking when men savor their co s they praise
her culinary art.
Men's love of sports, whether it is fishing, hunting, golf, horse
racing, or baseball, keeps them boyish and young at heart. They enjoy
the privilege of preserving the innocence of their childhood and fondly
reminisce about the pastimes and recreations of their boyhood. They
never forget that stage in life that Shakespeare alludes to as "boy
eternal," the fun-loving care-freeness of a Huck Finn or Tom Sawyer
always ready for an adventure or spontaneous fun. They organize youth
sports, coach their children's teams, share their knowledge of the
game, and relive their childhood through their passion for athletics.
Izaac Walton's The Complete Angler (1676) captures this spirit of the
innocent fun of being "boy eternal" as businessmen living an active
life go fishing and receive a myriad of spiritual and physical benefits
from their favorite recreation: "Twas an imployment for his idle time,
which was not then Idlely spent: for angling was, after tedious Study,
a rest to his mind, a cheerer of his spirits, a diverter of sadnesse,
a calmer of unquiet thoughts, a moderator of passions, a procurer
of contentedness; and that it begot habits of peace and patience in
those that profess'd and practis'd it."
The privilege of being a man is that his happiness consists in the
sum of little things: the outdoors, a favorite sport, a good friend,
a delicious meal, and all seems well with the world. As one sportsman
says in Walton's book, "Fish to morrow, and sup together, and the next
day every man leave Fishing, and fall to his businesse." It takes so
little to please a normal man.
Another special privilege of being a man is that he does not have to
be ruled by fashion or be preoccupied about clothes or style. Compared
to women, most men own a limited wardrobe and only a few combinations
of apparel. Jackets, slacks, shirts and ties do not radically go
out of vogue. Other than basic grooming, cleanliness, haircuts, and
shaves, manly men do not spend inordinate time preening themselves
or modifyi shion.
In general, men who are not foppish do not think of themselves as
beautiful, lovely, or glamorous and thus are saved from the snare of
vanity. They do not gaze at their reflections and ask, "Mirror, mirror
on the wall, who is the fairest of them all?" Like Huckleberry Finn,
men never lose their opposition to being excessively "proper" according
to conventions of rigid formality and etiquette. Huck comments, "The
widow Douglas, she took me for her son, and allowed she would sivilize
me; but it was rough living in the house, considering how dismal
regular and decent the widow was in all her ways; . . . I got into
my old rags, and my sugar-hogshead again, and was free and satisfied."
Unlike women, men never look forward to getting dressed up and
appearing in elegant clothing for special occasions. Consequently,
men spend less money on clothing, worry less about appearance, and
hardly think about what they will wear tomorrow or for the party they
are attending. They enjoy this greater freedom from the dictates of
the fashion world.
Another masculine advantage is insensibility -- not coarseness,
callousness or hardheartedness. Men's feelings are not hurt so easily,
and they are rarely guilty of touchiness -- taking offense easily
when no offense was intended. This lack of delicacy serves them well
in political debates and honest arguments. In Life on the Mississippi
Mark Twain the cub pilot -- hearing a shipmate on the steamboat roar,
"Here, now, start that gangplank for'ard! Lively, now! What're you
about?" -- comments, "I wished I could talk like that."
Dr. Johnson's Literary Club which met regularly at the Mitre tavern in
London for dinner, friendship, and conversation engaged in vigorous,
heated discussion and exchanges of wit that required the risk of defeat
or laughter. Johnson blames Oliver Goldsmith's irritable temper because
"he is so much mortified" when he does not excel in conversation. When
Goldsmith enters into arguments, "if he does not get the better,
he is miserably vexed" -- a hyperse ity to losing or failing that
Johnson finds too delicate for the masculine nature.. Preciosity or
perfectionism is a rare disease among men whose mastery of detail or
nuance or the je ne sais quoi is notoriously lacking.
Shakespeare's bluff Hotspur from Henry IV captures this unceremonious
roughness both when he remarks, "By God, I cannot flatter; I do
defy/ The tongues of soothers," and when he bluntly speaks his
mind to his wife Kate: "Swear me, Kate, like a lady as thou art, /
A good mouth-filling oath, and leave 'in sooth,'/ And such protest
of pepper-gingerbread, / To velvet guards and Sunday citizens."
The privilege of being a man allows him not to be preoccupied with
polished diction, mincing words, or elegant expression as Chaucer's
Canterbury Tales famously illustrates. When the avaricious pardoner
attempts to cheat the pilgrims with trinkets he calls "relics," the
host thunders, "Stop this, it won't do, as I hope to prosper! You
would make me kiss your old breeches, and swear they were the relics
of a saint, though they were foully stained by your bottom!"
These privileges, however, are only the minor perquisites of
manhood. The greatest honor of the male species is the title of husband
and father. In awe and wonder man contemplates the miracle of woman's
beauty and desires her love with a longing that pierces the soul. When
he falls in love with his beloved and proposes marriage, he finds in
this one woman a dream come true, a miracle from heaven. In his eyes
she embodies the essence of all female virtues of mind, body, heart,
and soul, and he begins to understand the transcendental nature of
love as the poets write about it. As Romeo said of Juliet, "She doth
teach the torches to burn bright!/ It seems she hangs upon the cheek
of night/ As a jewel in an Ethiope's ear -- / Beauty too rare for use,
for earth too dear."
He cannot believe that God has blessed him with this most precious
gift that surpasses his wildest hopes and dreams. Yes, he always
noticed lovely women. Yes, he always thought he wa se he wanted to
marry someone who attracted him. But never in his life did he imagine
anyone so beautiful, ideal, and perfect would want to marry him and
honor him with the privilege of being her husband. How could this
be? The privilege of being a man is to behold the miracle of love,
to contemplate the divine nature of beauty incarnate in the loveliness
of woman, and to "taste and see the goodness of the Lord."
In short, just as woman intimately senses the touch of God when she
conceives a child, man feels the personal hand of God when he discovers
the woman God created for him to marry. In this experience of heaven
on earth, man encounters the intense love of God for each individual
soul and naturally responds with profound gratitude, thinking like
Augustine "Thou lovest us, Lord, as if we were the only one," and
thinking like St. Paul, "Eye has not seen, nor ear heard, neither
has it entered into the mind of man, to conceive of the things God
has prepared for those who love him."
A man's privilege of fatherhood also exalts him with a great honor. In
his human fatherhood he is an icon of God the father. The power of
God's word creates the world when He utters, "'Let there be light';
and there was light." The power of a man's word creates a family
when he asks, "Will you marry me?" And there was marriage. The God
of creation in his bountiful fruitfulness creates light, sky, land,
seas, plants, trees, sun, moon, stars, animals, and man and woman. A
man in love with a generous heart fathers a family and imitates God
when he is fruitful and multiplies according to God's purpose for
marriage. God not only creates and multiplies but also provides and
cares for all of His creation.
Man as husband and father also provides for his family, exercising the
foresight of prudence and always thinking ahead of the future happiness
and protection of his family. God is not only a father in His Divine
Providence but also a teacher, ruler, and defender of His chosen people
in the Old Testament. A human father too enjoys these n God's ways,
ruling them with justice and mercy, and defending and protecting them
from evil influences that attack the family and rob children of their
innocence. There is nothing that a good father will not do for his
family. As St. Therese the Little Flower writes in her autobiography
The Story of a Soul, children expect everything from their father,
and believers honor God by expecting great things from Him.
In Shakespeare's The Tempest, Prospero, the epitome of wise and loving
fatherhood, uses the art of "magic" (power and knowledge) that he
derives from his books to bring civilization out of anarchy -- light
out of darkness -- when he is shipwrecked on an island. As a man he
governs his island and as a father he rules his family as God orders
the world -- with wisdom, justice, mercy, and love. With providential
wisdom Prospero allows Ferdinand to marry his daughter only when he
has proven his worthiness. With stern justice he punishes evildoers
who plot murder. With kind mercy he forgives all who repent and show
contrition: "The rarer action is/ In virtue than in vengeance. They
being penitent, / The sole drift of my purpose doth extend/ Not a
frown further." And with miraculous love Prospero brings good out of
evil, transforming a tragic shipwreck into a joyful marriage and an
occasion of happy reconciliation.
It is a privilege of manhood to use power and knowledge creatively
to produce beautiful works as God does and to fight evil in all
its forms. In educating and refining his daughter Miranda, Prospero
has created a work of art, a masterpiece, which the word "Miranda"
(meaning miraculous or wonderful) signifies as Ferdinand's praise
indicates: "Admir'd Miranda!/ Indeed the top of admiration."
To govern a family, to civilize children, to order the society
of a household for the common good, and to punish with justice and
forgive with mercy require the arts of manhood that Shakespeare calls
"magic" in his play -- all the talents and skills a loving father
incorporates to achieve the masterpiece of and a civilized world. It
is a privilege of being a man, then, to make the fullest use and to
exercise constantly all of his powers -- physical, intellectual,
spiritual, and emotional -- in the creation of works of art that
emulate God's wonders.
A final privilege of being a man is the honor of dying for those
he loves. "Husbands, love your wives, as Christ loved the church,"
St. Paul writes. After the apostle enjoins women to obey their
husbands, he commands men to love their wives with the willingness
to sacrifice their lives for them as Christ died in his passion for
the Church, God's kingdom in this world.
In Homer's Odyssey Odysseus risks his life to return to his home
in Ithaca to defend his family from the barbarian suitors, almost
drowned in the sea by a vengeful god and nearly killed by the savage
Cyclops. In the Iliad the honorable Hector in the defense of Troy and
his family duels with the formidable Achilles in the full knowledge
of his impending death: "I have made up my mind to fight you man to
man and kill you or be killed." The apostles and martyrs who preached
and lived the Gospel knew that the imitation of Christ always incurred
the risk of death: "If they hated me, they will hate you."
The profession of knighthood likewise follows the ideal of service
that requires not only, in Chaucer's description of the true knight,
"chivalry, truth, and honor, generosity and courtesy" but also
fearlessness in battle as the knight's bloodstained breastplates
signify from combat in many wars: "He had fought in fifteen large
battles, in addition to the three times he had defended our faith in
Algeria, and each time he had killed his opponent." This privilege of
manhood, the chance to "give all" as King Lear says, is the essence
of the male character. Real men exemplify liberality in every form
from generosity with money to the gift of self for a noble ideal
to the courage of dying for truth or justice as fathers, soldiers,
knights, and martyrs do in their joy of being men.
If only the radical feminists a some of these truths about the male of
the species, the relations between the sexes would return to normal,
love and romance would return to an unchivalrous world, marriage and
children would flourish, and everyone would recognize once again the
normal, the human, and the natural.
[Mitchell Kalpakgian is the new editor of Catholic Men's Quarterly. A
politically incorrect professor of 40 years experience, most recently
at Wyoming Catholic College, Dr. Kalpakgian is a teacher of wisdom
and virtue (read: literature). He is the author of three books:
The Mysteries of Life in Children's Literature (Neumann Press),
An Armenian Family Reunion (Neumann Press), and The Marvelous in
Fielding's Novels (University Press of America).]