{"id":32745744984,"date":"2013-01-14T15:15:18","date_gmt":"2013-01-14T21:15:18","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.patheos.com\/blogs\/samrocha\/?p=32745744984"},"modified":"2015-02-04T18:44:07","modified_gmt":"2015-02-05T00:44:07","slug":"in-praise-of-cigarettes","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.patheos.com\/blogs\/samrocha\/2013\/01\/in-praise-of-cigarettes\/","title":{"rendered":"In Praise of Cigarettes"},"content":{"rendered":"<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC \"-\/\/W3C\/\/DTD HTML 4.0 Transitional\/\/EN\" \"http:\/\/www.w3.org\/TR\/REC-html40\/loose.dtd\">\n<html><head><meta http-equiv=\"content-type\" content=\"text\/html; charset=utf-8\"><meta http-equiv=\"content-type\" content=\"text\/html; charset=utf-8\"><\/head><body><p style=\"text-align: center\"><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"aligncenter\" title=\"bugler\" src=\"https:\/\/p2.la-img.com\/632\/29359\/11367158_1_x.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"314\" height=\"342\"><\/p>\n<p>I begin with a generous pinch of finely cut tobacco, cradled inside a creased, rectangular sheet of paper, with a thin stripe of glue affixed to the outer edge that faces me. A tiny tobacco envelope. I massage back-and-forth between thumbs and forefingers until the tobacco shrinks into a tight cylindrical bundle. Roll, pinch, roll some more. Stop. Lick and press to seal; shape and trim; flame and light. Inhale, ingest, exhale.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cBut cigarettes are disgusting!\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cDon\u2019t you know cigarettes are bad for you, that they kill you?\u201d<\/p>\n<p>I\u2019m consistently amused at the pious indignation, the dirty, condescending looks, the disappointment and shock that I would turn out to be the sort of person who would smoke a cigarette.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cYou smoke? I didn\u2019t know <em>you<\/em> smoked?\u201d<\/p>\n<p>I enjoy smoking <a href=\"http:\/\/www.theatlantic.com\/national\/archive\/2013\/01\/5-year-olds-with-cigarettes-glamorous-or-hideous\/266959\/\" class=\" decorated-link\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"nofollow\">cigarettes<\/a>. A small, hand-rolled \u201cBugler\u201d is my fag of choice these days. Sometimes I use some pipe tobacco, too, to smooth it out. Cigarettes can be relaxing and quite social, but these are not the best reasons to praise them. The transgression of smoking a cig flies in the face of contemporary reason and resists the trendy storms of health-nuttery and secular sanctimony.<\/p>\n<p>When I light up in public or offer a smoke to someone, just to be polite, it is not simply antiquated or in poor taste: some take it as a total affront, a form of physical assault. In today\u2019s artificial nostalgia for clean, natural things, smoking is dirty and stinky, reminiscent of industrial smog and rural gas-guzzlers.\u00a0It has gone completely out of style.<\/p>\n<p style=\"text-align: center\">+++<\/p>\n<p><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"alignleft\" title=\"smoke\" src=\"https:\/\/www.oodegr.com\/english\/ekklisia\/eikones\/incense-and-icon.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"258\" height=\"223\">Cigarette smoke dances over the surface of my hand, leaving its signature scent on my fingers as it rises and lingers. I don\u2019t think it wise to smoke two or even one pack a day, for reasons more\u00a0economic\u00a0than health-related. And there certainly are health concerns. Real ones. It makes no sense to commit suicide any more than I already do by being alive; there is a delicate distinction between not fearing death and being suicidal.<\/p>\n<p>Living in a time when we routinely poison ourselves\u2014physically, mentally, emotionally, and spiritually\u2014 with all kinds of things, cigarettes do not sit atop my list of suicide machines. I praise cigarettes because smoking them increases my sense of vitality: not through nicotine or juvenile rebellion, but through a concrete act of hope, fearlessness, and folly in a disenchanted age of temerity, despair, and sycophantic safety.<\/p>\n<p style=\"text-align: center\">+++<\/p>\n<p>\u201cThank You for the Light,\u201d a previously rejected 1936 short story by F. Scott Fitzgerald recently printed in <a href=\"http:\/\/www.newyorker.com\/fiction\/features\/2012\/08\/06\/120806fi_fiction_fitzgerald\" class=\" decorated-link\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"nofollow\"><em>The New Yorker<\/em><\/a>, follows Mrs. Hanson, a traveling saleswoman of female undergarments. She is a lonely woman, a widow who finds a certain existential relief in smoking. After receiving a promotion that moves her westward, she finds herself in a cold and dark social climate, not unlike our own today, that is averse to smoking. As time passes without a cigarette, she finds her way to a Catholic church, where an unlikely Madonna gives her some rest\u2014and a light.<\/p>\n<p>It is a remarkable, quirky tale of redemption and hope that describes the potential for our most mundane, ordinary, and even vulgar pastimes\u2014smoke breaks included\u2014to become profane encounters with the Divine. This story is a unique and timely commentary on the present, deodorizing tendency to problematize reality, to pervert the world into a candidate for scientific solution, legal intervention, or <a href=\"https:\/\/www.patheos.com\/blogs\/theanchoress\/2013\/01\/12\/skydaddy-bloomberg-takes-a-liking-to-playing-deity\/\" class=\" decorated-link\" target=\"_blank\">Michael Bloomberg<\/a>. At\u00a0the University of North Dakota,\u00a0my new institutional home, it is against university policy to smoke anything anywhere on campus. A university that prohibits pipes, cigars, and cigarettes: what a wasteland! Mass without candles or incense.<\/p>\n<p><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"aligncenter\" src=\"https:\/\/www.retronaut.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2011\/08\/514-598x269.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"598\" height=\"269\"><\/p>\n<p>In Terence Malick\u2019s <em>The Tree of Life<\/em>, a beautiful and ambitious film set between eternity and the 1950\u2019s, there is a scene where a group of young boys chase a fumigation truck down a neighborhood street, frolicking amidst a thick cloud of mosquito repellant. I was blind to that scene in many ways at first: in the ecstatic joy of boyish play and tomfoolery, I could only worry about the health of those children running in that smoke. They saw a cause for play; I, a problem.<\/p>\n<p style=\"text-align: center\">+++<\/p>\n<p>Despite my love of cigarettes, I\u2019m still something of a prude. I am a product of my time. A millennial. I, too, suffer from the problem of problems: the urge to problematize leads me away from reverence, from God. It is no surprise that the abolition of cigarettes is moving along at a fast and popular pace, alongside the loss of the sacred. We are finally solving these problems. Soon, the late-modern dreamers say, we may even abolish death and suffering and all religion. Sometimes the only reply I can muster to that sterile and loveless imagination is to smoke another cigarette. To live a little.<\/p>\n<p><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"alignright\" title=\"no smoking\" src=\"https:\/\/media.prleap.com\/image\/1882\/full\/No_Smoking_Original_Small.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"230\" height=\"230\">Smoking bans abound, as we have seen and will continue to see. But make no mistake, despite the many scruples of our time: cigarettes are another fading part of daily life that is not afraid of leisure or tragedy, that has an imagination and appetite for the timeless.<\/p>\n<p>\u201c<em>In saecula saeculorum<\/em>.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>If only for that, I think they deserve some praise.<\/p>\n<\/body><\/html>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>I begin with a generous pinch of finely cut tobacco, cradled inside a creased, rectangular sheet of paper, with a thin stripe of glue affixed to the outer edge that faces me. A tiny tobacco envelope. I massage back-and-forth between thumbs and forefingers until the tobacco shrinks into a tight cylindrical bundle. Roll, pinch, roll [&hellip;]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1216,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[58,54],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-32745744984","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-aesthetics","category-liturgy"],"yoast_head":"<!-- This site is optimized with the Yoast SEO plugin v21.1 - https:\/\/yoast.com\/wordpress\/plugins\/seo\/ -->\n<title>In Praise of Cigarettes<\/title>\n<meta name=\"description\" content=\"I begin with a generous pinch of finely cut tobacco, cradled inside a creased, rectangular sheet of paper, with a thin stripe of glue affixed to the outer\" \/>\n<meta name=\"robots\" content=\"index, follow, max-snippet:-1, max-image-preview:large, max-video-preview:-1\" \/>\n<link rel=\"canonical\" href=\"https:\/\/www.patheos.com\/blogs\/samrocha\/2013\/01\/in-praise-of-cigarettes\/\" \/>\n<meta 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