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And now, from the Most Reverend Raphael J. Adams,

The Last Word

One of my confrères has adopted the title "Resident Old Curmudgeon." After some reflection, I have determined that the assumption of this title by that individual is not entirely appropriate. I do not imply any untoward motives on the part of our dear brother. I do not believe that laying claim to this title was intentional usurpation, impersonation, or appropriation. While the individual in question certainly has some well-cultivated curmudgeonly characteristics, and no doubt ardently aspires to that state, I must concede that he has not yet fully attained it. I must acknowledge that he still falls somewhat short of full-fledged curmudgeonliness. I feel compelled, in all honesty, to draw this to his attention. While he may maintain with a Dan Quayle-like sense of effrontery that my comments in this regard are uncalled for, I must state for the record -- with a Lloyd Benson-like clarity -- that I knew the old curmudgeons, and this man is no curmudgeon (at least not yet). He is at best a borderline curmudgeon, a quasi-curmudgeon. Though formidable, he has not yet arrived at that level of automatic intimidation that has characterized the classic curmudgeons of our acquaintance. I shall cite examples of their legendary curmudgeonliness below. Next, based on my experience of curmudgeons (which is quite extensive), I will present my Theory of Developmental Curmudgeonliness. Lest anyone should think that my attitude toward curmudgeons (in all developmental stages) is anything other than beneficent, I will conclude by discussing curmudgeonliness as a virtue, which, with the passage of a few more years and the loss of a few more social inhibitions, my colleague may yet attain.

First, from a shared communal experience, I offer several examples of curmudgeonliness in action. These little narratives illustrate the kinds of things genuine curmudgeons do and how they do them. They also provide opportunity for gaining insight into the dynamic nature of curmudgeonliness, allowing us to identify some essential curmudgeonly personality characteristics and traits. It is my premise that curmudgeons are neither born nor made, but rather are born with all requisite characteristics which they then devote the remainder of their lives to perfecting. Curmudgeonliness is, therefore, characteristics, a developmental process rather than a mere state of existence or a conscious affection. In the following excerpts from case histories, I will use pseudonyms for each of the curmudgeons. All of them have long since gone to glory, and one might deem it unnecessary to withhold their identities. But the fact is that they still scare me.

Curmudgeon Narrative #1: Father M.
About thirty-five years ago, a young religious brother, like so many energetic messianic do-gooders, was constantly charging off on some righteous mission or another, determined to save the world before he turned thirty. He had an inordinate drive for engagement in the corporal works of mercy (it was, after all, the 1960s). As Brother was rushing down the hallway, intent on some salvific errand that would inevitably make him late for common prayer, he scurried past Father M's door. Fr. M's bullish bellow (acquired, I believe in military chaplaincy) stopped the younger man cold in his tracks: "Brother get in here!" When Brother entered the room, old Father M. did not even look up from the book on his lap. He simply pointed above and behind his head at the crucifix on the wall. "Do you see that?" he asked. "It's been done. Unless you think you can do a better job and still be back here ready to get back to work day after tomorrow, slow down. Dismissed."
Commentary: One can readily see that this curmudgeonly intervention was unorthodox and perhaps, even pushed the envelope of social acceptability. This is a hallmark curmudgeonly characteristic. Note also that the whole interaction from start to finish took less than thirty seconds. Brevity and economy of speech are also characteristic. The memory of the encounter and the lesson learned both stayed with the fiction for a lifetime. This is due to a third characteristic: Curmudgeonly intervention is always staged for maximum effect.

Curmudgeon Narrative #2: Father L.
Father L related this story to a group of us some years ago. I suspect it was one of his fondest memories. Father L. had once silenced an entire covey of chattering, giggling parochial high school girls at a theater with one typically theatrical curmudgeonly quip. When he could tolerate the girls' racket no longer, he stood up, turned around to face them, raised his cane above his head and shook it in their direction, shouting, "Young ladies, you are the best argument for celibacy I have ever encountered!" A hush descended (and remained for the entirety of the film).
Commentary: The characteristics noted above in Narrative #1 are all present -- brevity, theatricality, and I assume the residual recollection of the target audience as well. I have never interviewed any of the young ladies from the theater, but I am sure there are some middle-aged women out there who do not ever talk during a show. Note an additional characteristic: the vicarious delight the curmudgeon experiences in the retelling of his own exploits, and the tendency to revel in his own curmudgeonly identity.

Curmudgeon Narrative #3: Bishop G.
A young priest had stopped by to dine with Bishop G. G was in his late eighties but had only retired a few years earlier due to congestive heart failure. Though his flesh was weak, his spirit remained willing and his curmudgeonliness unflagging. Indeed, it seemed to have come into full flower during his retirement. The visitor spent a few moments consulting with the old man's caretaker, Sister P., on the status of his health. Sister related that Bishop had felt a little more chipper than usual that Sunday. After attending Mass in the house chapel, he had gone out to sit on the front port for a while, to read the newspaper and feed the birds and squirrels. He had even mustered enough energy to stand up and shout at a young woman going up the church steps that her dress was too short, that she looked like a hooker, and that she should go home and put some clothes on. Then he had run short of air and needed to take a nap. At this point in the report, Sister's tone became conspiratorial. She confided that her plan to gradually wean Bishop from his salt habit had proven successful. She had been dumping a little salt each day from the shaker, and replacing it with salt substitute. He had not noticed the gradual change.

After dinner, the Most Reverend Old Curmudgeon asked Father if Sister had told him about the salt substitute subterfuge. His Grace had found the salt substitute the day Sister had brought it home from the market and had summarily flushed the "vile powder" down the toilet. He had then replaced it with nature's own iodized but otherwise unadulterated NaC1. Sister had been diligently but unwittingly replacing the salt in the shaker with salt from the salt substitute container. "She doesn't know who she's up against," he snarled. Then his tone softened, "The woman is a saint, an absolute saint. It's so infuriating."
Commentary: The tendency to revel in curmudgeonly identity is markedly evident here. The old curmudgeon had to tell someone about his curmudgeonly caper. He therefore confided in his younger confrère. He could not bring himself to tell Sister that he had outfoxed her. She was, after all, infuriatingly saintly. So he told her newly conscripted co-conspirator. (This is "Gotcha" by proxy). Bishop's reluctance to confront his adversary and the tenderness of his exasperation with her also serve to exemplify another curmudgeonly trait: the curmudgeonly paradox. Despite their practiced stage presence and their gift for lacerating verbiage, true curmudgeons are nonetheless lovable (because they are loving). This is what prevents them from being simply mean old men.

I could certainly provide examples of other curmudgeons of happy memory, or include further escapades of these three, but my purpose is not to provide an exhaustive curmudgeonly hagiography. I wish only to provide several examples of curmudgeonly behavior in order to extrapolate the defining characteristics of the type.

I will now provide my Theory of Developmental Curmudgeonliness, attempting to explain the etiology of the condition -- my explanation of just how people become curmudgeons. I believe that curmudgeons are born with certain predispositions and proclivities that serve as the foundation for a set of skills that are honed and refined over the course of a lifetime. Curmudgeons are both born and made (actually, self-made). Having grown up and grown older with some persons who are definitely curmudgeon material, I have had the opportunity to do a long-term longitudinal study of my own cohort. Now that I can readily identify the emerging curmudgeons in my peer group, I can better identify the one predisposing factor they all have in common. Identification of that hallmark characteristic has qualified me to gain insight into the curmudgeons of today and to predict the identity of the curmudgeons of tomorrow with reasonable accuracy. Quite simply put, a curmudgeon is just an elderly smart-ass whose whipper-snapper sarcasm has mellowed into cryptic cynicism, whose raucous guffaw has soften to a sub-vocal cackle, and whose reckless bravado has calcified into a crusty veneer. Even young smart-asses gain wisdom over the years, if they're at all open to the lessons of experience. Thus, smart-asses grow up to become wise-asses. An insightful old wise-ass with style is a curmudgeon. It's that simple. This is why one cannot decide at say, forty, to become a curmudgeon. Like fine wines, curmudgeons must age until they're robust yet piquant. This process takes decades and so, one must begin young to pursue one's curmudgeonly calling.

When I came to this realization (and sized up the competition), I abandoned my own aspirations to curmudgeonism. I had begun preparation much too late to ever become a fully fledged, Old Curmudgeon. The closest I could come would be an Old Fart. Old Farts are, in fact failed curmudgeons endearing and without which, O.F.s are simply Meanies. So, neither possessing the curmudgeonly gene nor wishing to become a Meanie, I have opted for the role of Distinguished Old Gentleman. There seem to be only two requirements to pull this one off. Always try to look your best and don't say anything hopelessly stupid. I think I can do this. I hope I can.

Despite the provocative demeanor of smart-asses (larval stage), wise-asses (adult stage), and curmudgeons (geriatric phase), these folks are actually loving, caring individuals. To iterate, this caring quality is what separates them from people who are angry, bitter, or just plain nasty, and who use verbal acuity to hurt, humiliate, and degrade. While they all share the same set of highly developed verbal skills, their motives in using their talents differ drastically. Because the motives differ, the outcomes differ as well. Curmudgeonly types of all ages use their powers for good. Curmudgeonly intervention is efficacious because of another quality true curmudgeons possess: remarkable insight. When intervening in someone else's life or insinuating themselves into a situation gone awry, they have an intuitive sense for knowing what to say, and how and when to say it. They explode (or implode) the situation and exit, quickly, stage right. When I say that curmudgeonliness (as I have come to define it) is a virtue, this is what I'm talking about.

Throughout her history, the Church has benefited from the verbal barbs of sharp-witted (and sharp-tongued) sons and daughters. Desiderius Erasmus consistently left his antagonists in varying stages of confusion or bewilderment. His criticism of ecclesiastical abuses was both insightful and hilarious, his sarcasm sublime. His correspondence with Thomas More was a delightful exercise in spiritual banter. In reading the writings of Desiderius Erasmus, Priest of the Diocese of Utrecht in chronological order, one can trace the evolution from smart ass to wise ass to Curmudgeon for Christ. Teresa of Avila could (and did) quip with the best of them, with a "tongue as nimble as the pen of a skillful scribe." Francis of Assisi stripped buck-naked in the cathedral square and returned even his underwear to his irate father (so that Francis would owe him nothing). His scandalized elders no doubt viewed him as an insufferable young smart-ass. When he later quipped that autumn leaves fell from the trees as fast as lawyers into Hell, he was no doubt viewed as a middle age wise-ass (at least by Canon lawyers). In his last years, he most certainly had his curmudgeonly moments.

These are but a few of the numerous examples one might put forward. Without belaboring the point, I would simply iterate that there have been many saintly smart-asses, wise-asses, and curmudgeons. This is because wit and humor have always had their place in human interaction, particularly the uses of wit and humor characteristic of smart-asses/wise-asses/curmudgeons.

Such brevity and economy of speech (or symbolic action), and playing the moment for maximum effect are great experiential teaching tools. Ultimately, this is what master curmudgeons are: experiential/interactive teachers. Recent educational research has shown that the best learning is situational learning, learning which takes place experientially in real life situations. Based on this assumption, whole models pedagogy are being founded and developed. The task of an educator in facilitating this type of learning is to help the learner come to terms with the experience means. In this type of learning, the "teacher" intervenes as succinctly and pointedly as possible to help the learner "gestalt" what is relevant, to make focal what is really important.Of course, we Christians have known about this type of teaching/learning interaction for a long time. One could say that we've known it from the very beginning. Sometimes it has manifested itself in the anachronistic or provocative comment staged for effect and used as one method among many (including metaphor, narrative, demonstration, and questioning the learner). At other times it has manifested itself as a full-blown Apostolic Curmudgeonliness. One cannot read the Pauline epistles and downplay or disregard the Pauline curmudgeonliness erupting episodically and unapologetically throughout the prose. For example, Paul's recollection of confronting Cephas "for the liar that he was," and "Are these other apostles? So am I!" did not suffer from equivocation.

But one could maintain that the use of humor, witticism, and even sarcasm to convey a message or a meaning did not originate with Paul. When John the Baptist called the Pharisees a "brood of vipers," and asked who had warned them about the coming destruction, he had to have elicited a few chuckles at their expense. When Jesus asked, in reference to John the Baptist, "What did you go out to see, a reed shaken by the wind?" the implicit sarcasm was not lost on his listeners. The same could certainly be said regarding his question, "Whose image is this, and whose inscription?" in the discussion of the legality of taxation. Or his assertion that the Pharisees would go half-way around the world to make a single convert, and all they would do is to make someone half as fit for Hell as they were themselves. Or his comparison of the Pharisees to petulant children jeering in the marketplace. His use of hyperbole (a camel through the eye of a needle, or not seeing the beam in one's own eye while finding the speck in someone else's) had to have evoked a smile or even a laugh. His reference to Herod Antipas as an "old fox" was not intended to be complimentary. When he called Simon "Satan," Simon got the point. So there is something to be said for this type of teaching, this type of innuendo, this type of banter, this type of (I have to say it) more than subtle sarcasm. It worked. The point was made and taken. Though motivated by love and genuine concern for real people, it was nonetheless pointed and direct. It employed humor, wit, and audacity. Delivered with impeccable timing, it was definitely intended to have an effect. And it did. And it does. Two thousand years later.

And that is the last word.