Eleventh commandment: Thou shalt not be a busybody!

The link in the title to this post is to an entry in another blog, which bears the apt title of "Today's Nonsense." Apparently there is a government initiative to develop a corps of busybodies to aggravate everyone, including strangers, in all public places. Heavens, I can only imagine how many people will jump at the chance to feel important and meddle (though it is a volunteer assignment.) As an aside, though I rather like the blog to which I linked, the title of the blog itself, "Comfort Eater's Diet," which I assume is ironic, in itself would inspire many a busybody to badger anyone whom they assume meets the popular stereotype of the pathetic neurotic 'turning to comfort foods.'

In my experience, busybodies come in every variety - every level of intelligence or education, every class and background - and their common ground is in both a highly excessive estimation of their own wisdom and importance, and their assumption that everyone else not only is their inferior but is eagerly awaiting their wisdom. Of course, anyone who is genuinely trying to help others can make mistakes, be imprudent, or be considered as (sigh... I hate trendy talk and I intend this to be said with lifted eyebrows...) 'violating boundaries' today, but there is a key difference between the isolated errors of those genuinely seeking to be loving and busybodies. Busybodies are playing ego games, seeking superiority and not even seeing the implicit condescension.

Lord knows I've met my share of the breed, and members of that set are the most exasperating people on earth. I can think of a few who were 'outstanding' - one whom I knew who criticised everyone's speech, appearance, tastes, whatever, with the clear attitude that she (and her mother) were the only people on earth who knew the right way to do things, and that their mission was to instruct the pathetic masses (anyone other than themselves.) Another, who thought herself to be the ultimate intellectual, could not go without nagging for half an hour, and would phone people multiple times each day to tell them to do things to which they'd already given a 'no,' or go on at length to advise them against doing things they never had considered doing in the first place.

Sometimes, approaches such as these would have been comical had they not been so irritating. When I was a young musician, I remember another member of a theatre company, Carol, who had the most... excessive self-esteem of probably anyone I have ever known (and this in a field where egos and desires for attention are hardly a rarity. Carol was a secretary by profession, but had some background in music, and I don't doubt she'd have approached Tebaldi with criticisms and suggestions, always beginning with her trademark, "we have to get together...", which invariably preceded a statement of what the other was doing wrong and how she had the solution.)

Carol thought of herself as the ultimate glamour girl - where she actually verged on the pathetic. Though it was the late 1970s when Carol began including me in her 'we have to get together' (...no chance of that, fusspot...), she still had her hair, make-up and the like in styles, outdated for at least a decade, which so obviously were intended to copy Elizabeth Taylor in Cleopatra that it was hilarious. Carol regularly approached plain Janes (everyone except herself - particularly since this wasn't an era when too many women were still trying to look like Cleopatra) with "I've been looking at you, and I've decided..." (This was followed by what she thought one should do in the way of hair, make-up and the like.) I did have the good taste not to tell her that I had no desire to look as if I'd been made up by the undertaker (Carol would put on lipstick as she entered a room, then put on another layer above that two minutes later... one guy commented that anyone who kissed her must have thought he was snogging with a candle...). Yet, when she 'decided' that I should 'go back to my (horrid) natural hair colour to look younger' (this though neither one of us was within decades of when anyone would have that aim or concern), I'll admit that I responded that I had 'decided' that she should mind her own business - and I modified 'business' with an adjective too vulgar to use on the Internet, which is normally out of character for me.

I wore about a size 16 at the time, which naturally meant that every woman who wanted applause for being any smaller than I am was 'concerned about my health,' recommending black clothing, girdles, Weight Watchers, and so forth... though how wearing black or a girdle benefits health is beyond me. Carol was easily a size 24, so I would say that the chances that anyone saw her as a glamour girl and hoped to imitate her were slender.

Nonetheless, for all that busybodies irritate me to an extent that even heretics, those with arch conservative politics, and other people far on the other end of the circle from me do, I shall concede that certain religious teachings indeed could push those who, deep down, genuinely want to be loving into busybody mode. It was not a matter of doctrine, but of exhortation - the devout who attended retreats, heard or read conferences about practising charity in little things, were trained as greeters in churches, became involved with group programmes, whatever, were exposed to far too great an emphasis on example.

I remember a lovely couple I knew, in my age group, who were very involved with all sorts of 'marriage enrichment' programmes (natural family planning, marriage preparation, retreats for couples). It took a while for me to discover that, in their preparation for this work, they'd been encouraged to find reasons to bring these things up all of the time. Until then, though I was quite fond of them, I wondered if they might not just have badges made that said "Ask us about our perfect marriage," just to save time. Breastfeeding was not yet a universal obligation then, and there was some RC organisation that gave it a religious flavour, and I could set my clock by the female member of the couple... at any parish gathering, wait till the room was full, count out five minutes, and it was time for her to start pulling up her top...

One girl who attended the same college with me, again a very good sort, was involved in campus ministry programmes. If, let us say, a retreat was approaching, she hounded others to attend. Let someone say "I will be away that weekend," and she'd be 'on their case' with "is that the only reason?" She'd pester those who were attending if their siblings or friends were not. I'm sure she either thought these gatherings would be beneficial or wanted to rake up the biggest total to show what an organiser she was - but she just could not accept a 'no'!

Those from Catholic traditions (in which I do not only include the Roman variety) normally did not see themselves as having an obligation to push others to become Christians - there is no concept of 'baptised or damned.' I would say, at least since the Counter-Reformation and more since the French revolution, the emphasis (again, with stress on 'example') was on getting Catholics who weren't practising to become involved in the Church. This is a fine aim, of course, but one thing that the devout seldom can grasp is that (1) some people just aren't interested in church-going and (2) those who came from homes where their parents set the most avid 'examples' often are more than happy to be free of this.

One mega-busybody, whom I had not seen in years, contacted me some months ago. (The worst feature of the Internet is that one will hear from whichever figure from the past one wishes to hear from least.) Apparently she does not read most of the blog, which I hardly would consider dismal, but focussed on that, in one post (which was actually primarily about an author!), I'd referenced my convent days as an illustration. This, supposedly, was 'destroying all the good in me.' So, at risk of hearing from this pest again, I shall (gasp!) present a 'convent example' because I see it as illustrating how the idea of example can get out of hand.

Francis had placed a provision in the rule that, in any case of discord between the friars, they should 'immediately and humbly ask pardon of the other.' In our particular congregation, that had been more formalised. It was customary, if another started or involved one in a row, and later made an apology, to respond with "and I am sorry that I provoked you."

This, in a setting where all understand the custom, and the underlying humility and charity it is supposed to demonstrate (...even when the actual feelings may be smug and self-righteous...), is not intended to be unhealthy, even if it probably is. There are no implications of "I deserve to have you mistreat me - I think I am worth no better - I am to blame for what you did" or anything of the sort. Anyway, both people involved in the argument would have had to accuse themselves to the superior, and the verdict was highly unlikely to be 'not guilty' for either. (I once was penanced to three days of silence - probably the most appropriate penance in the Order's 700 year history.)

Unfortunately, when we are 'raised' with such customs and may grudgingly admit they can be useful, we can forget that there are characters on this earth who would not be edified by the example of humility and charity we're hoping we are presenting. (It was a big year for edification... I doubt we even realised the implicit condescension in our having to 'edify' our parents when we wrote them or they visited, as if the good and dedicated people who'd raised us needed their daughters' help to rescue them from their failings.) :) I well remember when one of the less pleasant people with whom I dealt, and whom I had in no way wronged, felt I'd offended her. Most fortunately, one of the friars (the one who told a man en route to rehab that, if he returned before his treatment was complete, said friar would 'break his fucking legs'... the treatment was successful) intercepted the message I nearly sent. "I am sorry I provoked you," if directed to the individual I mentioned, would only have been taken as further proof of weakness and a capacity for manipulation.

Admittedly, there are other times when we must have seemed a prissy little crop of snobs. (I was more intelligent and educated than the others - which is not saying much - so I came across as a cheeky and proud snob, which at the time was perfectly true.) Our community had retained most of the 'old ways' in an era when many congregations were modernising (is that a word?), some becoming quite secular. I suppose that the lowered eyes and demeanour as if we were sterile and feared someone would touch and contaminate us were taught to us in order that we not glance up and see modern touches that would be appealing. But, of course, that was never disclosed. No, our manner was supposed to demonstrate that we were 'recollected,' and therefore provide edification for these 'wicked' modern nuns who turned up at inter-community functions.

Forgive us - anyone who'd act 'edifying,' or concentrate on 'setting a good example,' to her own mother and father is temporarily beyond hope. ;) We also were too insular to realise that, had anyone actually stopped to consider how we lived, it would have been seen as pathetic (all the money she could make... she could still catch a man...) rather than edifying. But, fortunately, no one is likely to be looking to another for example in any case.

My own rule: Be there if someone really wants to share a confidence, though it is unlikely one can really do anything other than listen. (Often, just having a caring, non judgemental ear is a great blessing. The person who shares pain will be glad not to have her head bitten off with 'you're feeling sorry for yourself!,' or a smug response from a busybody who 'doesn't let things bother her,' even if her constant meddling makes it plain that everyone and everything indeed does bother her.) Always stop to think, for at least a day or two if not till eternity, of whether you do want to help another or just want to convince yourself you are superior. Never forget that fear can cripple us - we may tear apart, for example, the person who had a job loss or bankruptcy because we dearly want to believe it could not happen to us. If one believes one is 'concerned about health,' one must ponder very seriously if this is not just an excuse for an ego game. Don't only let one's own yeas be yea and nays be nay - accept that others have a right to both responses.