I really enjoyed what this piece reveals about what I suppose I'd characterize as 'the leisure imperative' - the deep breath of vulnerability that opens up in the absence of an instrumental aim. What I think brunch manages to do is to elevate the experience dimension of a meal in a manner that begs to be savored, in a way that even the finest dinner tends to be ultimately (as you put it) consumptive in its default mode.
Separately, I'm interested - in this and in Tara's several essays/explorations - in how differently the reactions/orientations y'all seem to have re: what I'll broadly call the NYC 'status-seeking' game play out, relative to my own. It is cool to see both of y'all explicate the nuances of how you navigate and react to those realities. Before I knew you and a few years after I had met Tara, I had attributed lots of these distinctions to her being a native New Yorker. But you're not, and yet I think y'all are generally valent in how you perceive, internalize, react to, navigate, and ultimately adjudge those kinds of implicit positioning exercises.
Perhaps a conversation for the next time I see y'all :)
"I worry about my own excitement when the music at a particular service happens to be something I particularly like."
Is this because it distracts you from what you are "supposed" to be paying attention to? If attending church is meant to be, above-all-else, attending to God, wouldn't you be better served attending him at home, free of distraction, just as we would be better served eating breakfast at home?
"...we’d be better off consuming alone and dispensing with the social bit, just like those Anglo-Catholic priests at high mass."
I challenge the notion that priests are dispensing with the social bit. I think it is the opposite, in fact. They are orchestrating the brunch; They provide ritual for their congregation. Their purpose is not to connect individuals with God, but rather to provide structure for a group of individuals to connect with God together.
I really enjoyed what this piece reveals about what I suppose I'd characterize as 'the leisure imperative' - the deep breath of vulnerability that opens up in the absence of an instrumental aim. What I think brunch manages to do is to elevate the experience dimension of a meal in a manner that begs to be savored, in a way that even the finest dinner tends to be ultimately (as you put it) consumptive in its default mode.
Separately, I'm interested - in this and in Tara's several essays/explorations - in how differently the reactions/orientations y'all seem to have re: what I'll broadly call the NYC 'status-seeking' game play out, relative to my own. It is cool to see both of y'all explicate the nuances of how you navigate and react to those realities. Before I knew you and a few years after I had met Tara, I had attributed lots of these distinctions to her being a native New Yorker. But you're not, and yet I think y'all are generally valent in how you perceive, internalize, react to, navigate, and ultimately adjudge those kinds of implicit positioning exercises.
Perhaps a conversation for the next time I see y'all :)
"I worry about my own excitement when the music at a particular service happens to be something I particularly like."
Is this because it distracts you from what you are "supposed" to be paying attention to? If attending church is meant to be, above-all-else, attending to God, wouldn't you be better served attending him at home, free of distraction, just as we would be better served eating breakfast at home?
"...we’d be better off consuming alone and dispensing with the social bit, just like those Anglo-Catholic priests at high mass."
I challenge the notion that priests are dispensing with the social bit. I think it is the opposite, in fact. They are orchestrating the brunch; They provide ritual for their congregation. Their purpose is not to connect individuals with God, but rather to provide structure for a group of individuals to connect with God together.