least common denominator

A DeLorean and a Doc Brown Cosplayer in the Parade at the 25th Annual Dragon Con in 2011

In my last post, I explored the fact that my Catholicism has always been a part of me, even if those who know me via school, fandom or writing weren’t aware of that. Today, I’m going to look at the reverse: many of the people who know me either professionally, or via parish activities, are surprised to learn that I don’t just enjoy watching popular science fiction shows — I’m a flat-out fan. More than that, I have no intention of leaving fandom and, in fact, plan to get a little more involved over the next few years.

I’ve been a Trekkie since 1983, when I was still far too young to go to conventions or do more than read books and magazines. It stayed with me and expanded into other fandoms as I got older: my first convention was Toronto Trek 2000 and I’ve made it to Dragon Con nearly every year since I was first able to go in 2011. I’ve also been to a couple of other conventions such as the one-time Women of Voyager that was held in 2001, and some of the Slanted Fedora events held around the Triangle Area of North Carolina. I’ve also been active on various message boards from time to time.

But my biggest activity within fandom is the writing of fan fiction. As of this blog post, I’ve written at least one fan fiction item in a dozen different fandoms; my work is primarily in the various iterations of Star Trek (my first love), but I’ve been known to dabble in a list of fandoms that is as diverse as Castle, Early Edition and Gene Roddenberry’s Andromeda. Fan fiction writing is a surprisingly social activity, and within it, it’s possible to find quite a bit of good advice and help concerning craft. For those who want to use it to learn how to write, it’s a veritable gold mine — as long as you understand that you absolutely cannot make any money from it.

I’ve also met some friends whom I still consider quite dear as a result of fandom. That’s why it surprises me when people are surprised to learn about me being “one of those basement-dwelling nerds” who’s active in fandom. My response is, why wouldn’t I be? And why would the fact that I’ve gotten married and gotten more active in my parish preclude continuing to be a fan? These activities are not mutually exclusive.

The usual response I get to this question is that a lot of speculative fiction is antagonistic to Christianity. This is a fair criticism of the genre; however, it’s worth noting that there are significant works that are very much in line with Christian teachings. It’s also worth noting that, like any popular entertainment, the impact of speculative fiction on a person is partially based on their own choices about how much they intend to let it affect them. As an example, while I love and adore Star Trek, I won’t hesitate to openly criticize its atheistic and materialistic worldview; and I have skipped a handful of episodes when showing it to my stepchildren.

One need not give up one’s beliefs to enjoy something, and there’s far more good than bad in fandom. Also, for the record, most fans actually don’t live in their parents’ basements; all walks of life and professions can be found among fans. So, interestingly enough, can most social and political viewpoints. After all, Snoop Dogg and Barack Obama are Trekkies — and so were Ronald Reagan and Colin Powell.

I have admittedly let my participation slide as a result of my recent life changes, but that can be remedied simply by reallocating some of my time. Fandom (or, more specifically, the folks I’ve met there) has been there for me through some very trying times in my life, such as the end of my first marriage and a job loss that led to me ending up in foreclosure. It’s also been there to help me celebrate achievements and mark life events; and along the way it has helped shape me into the person I am today.

That’s not a bad thing, as the influence has been positive. Given that, why would I want to leave?

Originally posted at https://collingwest.blog/2021/no-plans-to-leave/.

Abbey Church, Holy Spirit Monastery, Conyers, GA
Credit: John French via Pixabay

On my About Page and in the biography I just posted, I mention that Catholicism has always been a part of my life, even if there were periods when I wasn’t actively practicing. For some reason, this often tends to startle the friends I’ve made through school and in fandom. The most likely reason is because I don’t usually wear any “Catholic bling” and I’m not the kind of person to drop a mention about my faith into every conversation. In addition, I’m not politically conservative and I don’t have a dozen children. How on earth could I be one of those people and what happened to make me change?

If by “one of those people,” you mean a Catholic, the truth is that I haven’t changed; I’ve always been this way. What I haven’t done, and still don’t do, is feel the need to pray on street corners (cf. Mt. 6:5) by explicitly bringing God and Jesus into every conversation. The way I see it, if you can’t tell I’m Catholic from the way I act, you’re not likely to be convinced by what I say. Further, while there’s enough truth in stereotypes for them to be real, that doesn’t mean that they’re universal; or, in other words, being Catholic doesn’t limit me to a particular lifestyle or political slant.

But make no mistake: my Catholic faith is deeply entrenched. In fact, I consider it as much a culture and a worldview as much as I do a faith. Even when I’ve actively distanced myself from the Church, I still tended to see people as generally good, but corrupted so that they can’t access their true selves. I’ve believed in hard work, but I’ve never bought into the work ethic that pervades American culture; rather I’ve tended to keep work in its proper place and balance. Finally, because I’ve never accepted that there’s any conflict between science and religion, I’ve never believed that there’s any real difference between the natural and the supernatural; their differences are only matters of degree.

These things sound philosophical and even metaphysical; and on many levels, they are. But they’re still very real and have made a difference in my approach. Further, because I believe that God can see me no matter whether I hide or not (cf. Mt. 6:6-8), I don’t have a particular need to prove my faith to others. It exists, it’s there, and what I do is often far more important than what I say anyway. The question that I’m ultimately trying to answer isn’t whether I have faith; it’s whether I’m living in accordance with it.

My worldview stands in contrast to traditional Protestant ideas that see people as wicked and lost, and therefore in need of salvation. The most extreme example of this idea is, of course, Calvinism, but even non-Calvinists are prone to quoting Rom. 3:10-12 as evidence that people, as a rule, are not good. I’ve always seen this assertion as taken out of context; Paul is indicating that no human being is free from the burden of sin, not that human beings are intrinsically wicked. In fact, that idea, if taken out to its logical conclusion, dictates that God intentionally and deliberately created something evil.

The God I worship wouldn’t do that; everything he creates is good. Rather, I see the situation as one where what is good has been corrupted by the effects of sin. From that standpoint, the task of freeing yourself (and others) from that sinful state is about finding and embracing your true self, not about changing yourself away from being intrinsically bad. It’s a far more positive outlook, and in many ways, despite my frequent cynicism, it makes me an optimist at heart.

Another manifestation of my Catholic worldview is that I’ve never subscribed to the so-called “Protestant work ethic,” which in my mind, is rooted in the mistaken idea that joy and happiness are sinful. This mistake follows logically from the idea that human beings, at their core, are rotten at wicked. Therefore, anything that the human prefers and likes is obviously (and automatically) something that runs contrary to God’s will. This overly pessimistic worldview is at least part of what has led to work becoming far too important to American society.

Don’t misunderstand: I’m not saying that work isn’t important. Rather the reverse; work is very important. However, I don’t see it as important in and of itself. Instead, I see work as a potential means of glorifying God and bringing about his Kingdom on earth. This more nuanced worldview means that I put work in the context of life, rather than turning my life into my work. Insisting on a work/life balance has cost me significantly in terms of career opportunities, but I’m much more of a whole and fulfilled person this way.

Finally, and perhaps most significantly to those friends who know me either from school or from fandom, my view of faith and the world doesn’t exclude the idea of science. Instead, it in fact requires it; if creation is truly something that we have as a result of God’s action, then we’re almost commanded to explore and understand it, because that leads us toward a further understanding of human beings and humanity as a whole. This is an example of what many people call the “Catholic and,” which stands in contrast to the “Protestant or.” I truly cannot understand the idea of faith and science even being in conflict.

It’s true that sometimes the facts that come from science seem to contradict the truths that come from faith. To answer this, I would point out that facts and truth aren’t always the same; and that while science can explain “how,” only faith can explain “why.” On the other hand, using science to explain “why” leads to a nihilistic and self-destructive attitude; and using faith to explain “how” is simply nonsensical. God created the limits of science; he isn’t bound by them. In other words, if there seems to be a contradiction, it’s only because our current understanding of something is incomplete — and the best way to resolve a contradiction is to investigate the situation further.

Faith and reason aren’t contradictory; they’re complementary. In addition, there really isn’t any cut-and-dried formula for defining a “good Catholic.” Historically, Catholicism has been large enough to include people as varied as Thomas More, Dorothy Day, J.R.R. Tolkien, Joan of Arc and even a man named Jean Picard. In a tent that large, there’s more than enough room for me; and it’s a place where I’ve always lived. No, it hasn’t always been comfortable, but it has always been a part of my life and at this point I’m far too entrenched in my faith to believe that will ever change.

Originally posted at https://collingwest.blog/2021/one-of-those-people/.