ETA: this is part one of two. For the follow-up, in which I more or less find the answer to this question, please see part two.

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There’s a big movement these days, especially among Catholics, to get away from the city/suburbs, buy some land in the countryside, buy some animals, plant some seeds, and become self-sufficient. I get it. Self-sufficiency is cool. In the event of a societal collapse, you’ll be prepared. You’re safe from all the weird toxic ingredients and contamination incidents that affect grocery store products. Additionally, living off the land is a very spiritual thing. You’re living in accord with the rhythms of nature; the seasons, the weather, sunrise and sunset. You’re connected to your food source in a way that grocery shoppers are not. City life is comparatively removed from God’s creation; God designed us to live off the land, didn’t He? For homesteaders, life is probably, in a lot of ways, more “real.”

But does that make them better than the rest of us, who live in the city and buy all our food at the grocery store?

I think in some cases, maybe?

Let’s consider two individuals, we’ll call them Fran and Marge:

Fran is a devout Catholic and a faithful wife. She tithes on her whole income, never misses Mass on Sundays or holy days, says her rosary daily, goes to confession weekly, and reads the lives of the saints. Fran and her family live in a nice suburban housing development with HOA fees. They don’t have room for animals or a garden (except a few potted flowers and ornamental shrubs), plus Fran doesn’t like getting her hands dirty. She’s an elegant lady. So they do all their shopping at their local grocery store, or sometimes the farmer’s market if it’s convenient, which it’s not, because Fran has ten kids, whom she homeschools, and also volunteers for Meals on Wheels and the local free pregnancy center, and in her free time enjoys committee work and Well Read Mom book club meetings with her church friends. She also works out daily at the local YMCA, where she takes aerobics classes.

Next let’s look at Marge. Marge is a devout Catholic and a faithful wife. She tithes on her whole income, never misses Mass on Sundays or holy days, says her rosary daily, goes to confession weekly, and reads the lives of the saints. Marge and her family live on fifty acres, off a dirt road an hour outside of town. They have chickens, a dairy cow, a couple of goats, and a pig that they’re planning on slaughtering a few months from now to stock up their freezer. Marge makes her own yogurt and cheese from their own cow’s milk. They also have a huge garden, and Marge makes everything from scratch, canning and preserving all her own produce. It’s a full time job, between that and homeschooling her ten kids, but for Marge it’s very spiritually fulfilling. She doesn’t have time for volunteering outside the home, but for Marge, her home is her ministry.

Who is the “better” Catholic? If all other factors are the same, and they’re both very prayerful and striving to remain always in the state of grace, then is Marge better because she homesteads? But what about all of Fran’s hard work? I don’t know if we can say that Marge is doing better – can we? As a wife and mother, shouldn’t her home be her foremost ministry, before any committees or volunteer work?

Let’s consider a third individual though. We’ll call her Lois. Lois is a devout Catholic and a faithful wife. She tithes on her whole income, never misses Mass on Sundays or holy days, says her rosary daily, goes to confession weekly, and reads the lives of the saints. But in her free time, Lois is kind of a nerd. She enjoys watching TV and movies (but avoids anything racy or sinful), playing computer games (only clean ones), reading novels, writing stories, drawing, and knitting or crocheting. Committee work is not for her. She is an introvert and enjoys sitting quietly and looking out the window. She errs on the lazy side, but is doing her best; she’s a little chubby, but not obese or anything. Her suburban home has a decent-sized yard, but Lois has no interest in gardening or livestock. It’s just not how she cares to spend her time. For her, serving God means doing her very best at keeping her little house and homeschooling her ten kids, creating beautiful things, and just trying to be a good Christian witness to everyone whom she meets along her way as she goes about her little life. Including at the grocery store where she shops.

Is Marge a better Catholic than Lois? What about Fran, where does she fall in there? Is Marge the most Catholicest of all of them? How would we “rank” these three?

I guess we can’t really rank them. Only God can do that. But we can at least make an educated guess as to what kind of lifestyle we think is the holiest, can’t we?

But then, who are we to know how God speaks to Lois, or to Fran, or to Marge? God built each of these women and knows their interior life and workings and struggles in ways that no human ever can. Only He can really judge them.

But we still have moral compasses to steer us towards the best ways to live. What do we think? Should Lois and Fran abandon all their other works and hobbies, sell their homes, and buy some land and some livestock? Should Fran make herself miserable by getting her pretty fingernails dirty even though she hates it? Should Lois give up her crochet and computer games and instead raise chickens?

If I had to guess, I’d say there’s no moral obligation for them to do that. I think homesteading is one of those things, like exercise, or reading old books, that’s very good for you indeed, but not a crime not to do.

Or is it? I’m genuinely not sure.

I know one thing for sure: not all of us have the luxury of being able to move out to the country. Land and livestock are expensive. There’s a stereotype that farming is such a humble and simple way to live; but it takes a lot of money to be able to live that humbly and simply! Maybe back in the day, farmers were poor folks, but these days, it’s kind of the opposite: poor folks live in cities and surrounding areas, now, and rich folks are the ones privileged enough to live off their own land. And yeah, sure, I bet it does save money, living that way, long-term (canning your own goods, slaughtering your own meat, harvesting your own produce…), but, in order to save that money, you have to have a lot of money upfront to buy the animals, the supplies, and the property! Someone living paycheck to paycheck simply cannot do that.

But, a morally perfect person would make good financial decisions, wouldn’t they? A morally perfect person probably wouldn’t become poor enough to need to live paycheck-to-paycheck, because they would work hard, be careful to avoid unpayable debt, and their upstanding moral qualities would pay off in their lives, and surely anyone who’s not a complete screw-up, morally (because financial management is a moral matter) can afford a half acre or so, somewhere, can’t they? (I’m not talking about situations where people become poor through no fault of their own, such as medical debt from an illness or injury. Clearly such a person is not at fault for not being able to afford their own farm.)

But those of us who could have done better in the past, and are now dealing with the after-effects of our previous less-than-perfect financial decisions (as a millennial, I’m thinking specifically about student debt); is our inability to homestead a moral failing? Is our grocery shopping a symptom of our sinfulness? Should we be ashamed of it?

What about those of us who could, in theory, start a little garden or farm, but just don’t want to? What if, like Fran, we just hate getting sweaty and getting our hands dirty, and don’t particularly like farm animals? Or, like Lois, we’d rather do other hobbies? Should we just forget about our personal preferences/desires for comfort and pleasure, and get out there and do it anyway? – Is this what a very holy person, someone completely detached from all desires for comfort and pleasure, would do? I’m not such a person, so I honestly do not know.

I feel like Marge and Fran are “better” Catholics than Lois. But that’s just a feeling, and I’m not sure if it’s in any way correct. Personally, I have the most in common with Lois, except I’m not as content or confident as she is; I’m always wondering, fretfully, if I should be more of a Marge, or at least a Fran. Although I’ve tried being more Fran-like in the past, and I suck at it. My attempts to be more Marge-like never stick, either. I just can’t wait to get inside and take a damn shower. Should I just accept that I’m a Lois, or should I push back against my natural inclinations and try to be more like Marge, or even Fran?

So, I don’t really have a way to conclude this little post, because I honestly do not know. All I know for sure is, when I’m talking to folks from my parish who tell me they homestead and make their own everything, I feel like a shitty Catholic compared to them.

Is it okay to be different? Is it okay to live in the city, or to want to? At this point, I can’t help feeling like Marge is the “best” and most Catholicest Catholic, followed by Fran, and then Lois; but that might just be my emotional perception, influenced by my poor self-image. I feel like perhaps if Lois and Fran become more spiritually advanced, they will develop a true desire to homestead, because it will seem more in keeping with the way God designed humans to live, and they will begin to love God’s will above all other things – right?

Or, maybe that’s now how it happens. Maybe you can be a saint and live happily in the city and shop for groceries. I truly don’t know, at this point. I’d love to hear some other people’s opinions on this.