OK, so I’m a Christian. As part of my indoctrination, for lack of a better word, I’ve read and re-read the Sermon on the Mount, as well as studied the eight Beautitudes. I’m also a writer who has worked for newspapers and magazines in the general interest and business-to-business disciplines. (Pay no attention to the snarky remarks you might chance to hear about my writing skills from vicious editors. I am a writer.) For whatever reason, those two parts of my life have never been easily reconciled with each other. Part of the problem is the enormous time commitment involved with each. Christians are expected to read their Bibles and spend meaningful time in prayer every day. They are supposed to set aside time to fast. They are supposed to tithe, give offerings and in some cases, make even greater financial sacrifices to support building fund projects or goodwill mission efforts undertaken by their churches. Christians are supposed to do all of this, aside from regular church attendance on Sundays and as many week day services as they can manage to attend. AND they are expected to volunteer at their churches, to keep things running smoothly. On the writing side, well, let’s just say that reporters often work long and unpredictable hours. For low pay. And a generally unappreciative audience. I almost feel exhausted just describing it.
But that is not my problem with being a writer who is a Christian. Newsrooms are havens for outsized personalities. People are often impetuous, self-absorbed, lazy, flighty, goofy, rude, vicious or socially maladjusted on other ways. The New York Times is a famously unhappy place to work, described in newsrooms almost everywhere else as “a backbiting snake pit.” Yes, newspapers and magazines are full of all types, not the least of which are those who express atheistic and liberal ideas with intense vitriol. There, I said it. Someone call whatever moralistic authority is in charge of dealing with people who criticize the mass media. It’s true. Time after time, I’ve run into people who, at the slightest provocation, spew out rants punctuated with phrases like “f*cking Jesus freaks” or “these crazy Christians.” I’m used to hearing a lot of profanity out in public and in the workplace, so those outbursts kind of roll off my back. It’s the delivery that I find interesting. Many times, the speaker is shaking with an almost adolescent angst.
While I agree that journalists are supposed to have a healthy sense of skepticism when looking at the world, I think that some reporters push it when it comes to sizing up people and situations, and instead cast things in an overly pessimistic, sensationalist light. Sometimes they’ll impose an angle on a story that doesn’t fairly or accurately assess the situation. They’ll choose quotes that make a person look foolish, for no other reason than to entertain themselves. Listen, I’m mature enough to understand that grownups get stressed out and lose their cool. And I’m well aware of how hard it is to try to scoop the competition on a story. On deadline, and every single time you go to press. But honestly, in their drive to get a story, journalists are often just as naive, judgmental and narrow-minded as those they attempt to enlighten with their stories, and anyone who has spent at least a summer internship on a news-driven publication will back me up on this one.
It’s a quandary, because I like journalism, and I like business journalism. I like entrepreneurial energy and talking to people who come up with something, show it to the world and say: ‘Hey, what do you think?’ If there are three parts of my job I enjoy the most, it’s interviewing a source, getting something interesting to write about and seeing my byline in print. I love it. And yes, I’ve made some very good friends at various workplaces. But largely, I find it unfortunate that newsrooms can be such nutty places. Among all these aggressive, backstabbing, competitive, high-strung people trying to one-up and claw at each other comes a Christian who was always encouraged to be … meek. As in someone who submits to, according to Christian teachings, God’s control. Don’t push back too hard. Be polite, conciliatory. Turn the other cheek. There are many more deep and meaningful teachings on the principle of meekness in Christians, but when applied to the realities of my life and my job, I feel like the church is telling me to be passive, while my profession is telling me to cut loose and go for someone’s throat if necessary.
I was thinking over some of this last weekend, because I’ve been miserable at work lately. My editor is a piece of work, and oddly enough seems to relish being difficult to deal with. Unfortunately for me, everything I write gets eviscerated (but not so much by the other editors), and scowl at me at every opportunity. So, while sitting in church and trying to think up ways to get along with (or avoid, whichever is easier, depending on the mood) my editor as much as possible, I noticed someone who looked very familiar. No, it wasn’t my editor. WHEW!! It was a former colleague. A woman who had written for a different and well-respected publication. We always had friendly conversations. She had a tougher beat than mine. The kind that involves dealing with over-the-top and secretive personalities in the investment banking world. I thought: I’ve got to ask this woman how she dealt with the pressure all those years. I mean, if she could hack it, then go work for a place like CNBC, and not lose her Christian marbles, then I need to speak to her. I tapped her on the shoulder after the service, and we were both taken aback to see each other there, in church. Normally, I think a lot of people keep their spiritual beliefs far away from work. So running into each other like that and finding out we had something important in common was a little strange.
But I will lob in that phone call or email just to pick her brain a little and see how she balanced Christianity and this profession. It would probably help me get a better handle on things. If I’m lucky, I’ll figure out a way to respectfully and decisively take the wind out of those newsroom blowhards that take considerable pleasure out my chosen profession.
When I was a college freshman or sophomore, I almost pledged Delta Sigma Theta, thinking it would be a great way to get more out of college life. I went to a couple of pre-rush meetings, met the young women who were supposed to be my ‘line sisters’, learned the Greek alphabet, memorized the list of founding sorors and even got a pledge name. But the $600-plus membership fee in the first year, stopped my progress cold. There was no way I could have coughed up that much money by the end of my pledge process,or justified doing so to my very pragmatic mother, a first-generation immigrant. Further, a family friend and mentor discouraged me from pledging. She worked in my college’s financial aid office (I was always grateful that I never needed to spend a lot of time in that place, with its bad yellowish lighting and utilitarian furniture), where I would visit her and talk about whatever was going on with me in my classes and among my peers. So I never pledged any black sororities. I cannot say that I bitterly regret skipping the pledging process, but there are times when I wonder whether I made a mistake. Like whenever I run into my old high school vice principal for instance. I’ve come across Ms. Lennox in a range situations, from Alvin Ailey performances to supermarket aisles, and for a while, she always seemed to be more advanced in her career than the last time I saw her. When we part, I begin to wonder whether I should have gone through with Delta sisterhood, because it might have brought me into closer contact with more high-profile professionals.