You Done Me Wrong

On March 4^th of this past year, the Grillmaster sat down with two old friends in Chapel Hill, North Carolina. Well, three friends if you count the bottle of whiskey. Actually, if you count all the bottles, it was four, but that’s another story. We spent a good part of the night doing what old friends should do, catching up on girlfriends, families, and football. Then, perhaps because I’ve caught the DC disease of talking work everywhere I go, we committed a double party foul: debating religion AND politics.

And somehow, against all odds, we’re still friends. The three of us disagree on many things and agree on others, but because of the bonds we’ve built over time, we can yell and swear and laugh about it in the end. Probably most importantly, we respect each other as honest and honorable men (at least about important things that is).

The Grillmaster couldn’t help but think of that long blurry night while reading through Commonweal and First Things yesterday morning. These are two of the leading journals of Catholicism and public life (at fairly opposite ends of the Catholic political spectrum), and both have launched blogs in the past year. Over the past few days, a conversation has developed on those blogs that lacks the charity and respect of our global summit in Chapel Hill.

A snarky but interesting post at First Things by Charlotte Allen, was followed by an adept reply from Commonweal, and then a round of sometimes-witty, sometimes-offensive comments from Commonweal’s blog commenters. Jodi Bottum of First Things then climbed to the summit of victimization to declare that Commonweal readers hate First Things readers. That’s a quote folks. Such melodramatics were simply the last political power play in the exchange, albeit of the passive aggressive variety. Commonweal editors have taken the real high ground, apologizing for the comments while reminding Mr. Bottum that his over-reaction was distinctly uncharitable to the Commonweal editors.

At the heart of both the offending comments and Mr. Bottum’s reply lurked a need for victim-status that requires one portray debating partners as hateful hellions. This need to play the victim may be a distinctly Catholic thing (redirection of our deep down urge to self-flagellate, etc etc), but the use and abuse of victim language by evangelicals, Jews, Muslims, and atheists makes me think something larger is at work: that distinctly human need to feel right in our cause, and the instinct that those who are victims must have right on their side.

Old friends and good Catholics realize that the victim narrative is never as clear-cut as we’d like to make it. Christ crucified is the only pure victim; we followers are at our BEST a blend of that perfect sacrifice and the crowds who called for his crucifixion. What is it about friendship and whiskey that makes this truth more apparent?