Importance of Religion to a Successful Marriage

On Votaries today, I wrote about dissenters and atheists. 

The question here is: How important is religion to a marriage?

The question can be split into at least two parts:

• How many marriages these days are interfaith (intermarriages) versus a single faith (intramarriages)? 
• Does interfaith versus intrafaith make any difference?

According to the Pew Research Center, most people marry people of the same faith. The number of interfaith households has increased--but honestly not as much as I anticipated. 

Some religions do encourage same faith marriages. And many people place agreement over religion above agreement over other things, like politics. 

However, it is also quite likely that people end up marrying within the same faith because those are the people they know. As Patrice Heller and Beatrice Wood point out in "The Influence of Religious and Ethnic Differences on Marital Intimacy: Intermarriage versus Intramarriage," "[S]alient categorical homogeneity--that is, when a couple shares the same meaningful religious and ethnic group affiliations--usually deepens attractiveness of a potential marital relationship" (242).  

In other words, we are all incredibly self-centered and want to be with people who remind us of us--or, to be less cynical, with people with whom we are comfortable. 

However, interfaith marriages are not therefore automatically less intimate (intimate being defined here as closeness within the marriage). While intramarriage couples share a common "language," the significant others also run the risk of making assumptions about each other when they "project similarity and agreement about a host of issues." On the other hand, while intrafaith couples may lack a similar "frame of reference for negotiating differences," they do negotiate more and carry out "self-disclosure" (242-243). 

In sum, the marriage's success is all about the couple. 

The article (full reference below) does a decent job of addressing the underlying issue: namely, people who participate in studies are...people who participate in studies. An intramarried couple who participated in this study (I would suggest) would already be fairly confident that religion binds them together while an interfaith couple who participated in this study would already be fairly confident that their differences don't preclude agreement in other ways and can be handled through discussion.

After all, that's what the researchers discovered!

Even more interesting, however, was that the researchers found that education (class) wasn't necessarily the fall-back "similarity." At the end of the article, they suggest more research is needed. 

I always appreciate non-self-help-book research that explore issues that are taken for granted.  

Heller, Patrice and Beatrice Wood. "The Influence of Religious and Ethnic Differences on Marital Intimacy: Intermarriage versus Intramarriage." Journal of Marital and Family Therapy, vol. 26, no. 2. April 2000, 241-252. 

Joseph of Old and Romance, or, Which Character Writers Have Focused on the Most

Amazingly enough, Webber did NOT include a romance in Joseph and the Amazing Technicolored Dreamcoat.

Plenty of other people have. 

Joseph and his potential wife have provided many "between the lines" readings. In some romantic versions, he marries Aseneth, the daughter of Potipher (Genesis refers to Joseph marrying "Asenath the daughter of Potipherah priest of On"). Other versions have Joseph marry Potipher's wife--the woman who tried to seduce him--after her husband dies and she is reduced to beggary. 

There has always been humor in the tale.

Still other versions provide Gothic-like details after Potipher's wife drinks a magic potion; it takes over her mind (hence the attempt at seduction). Snakes show up at one point.

What is fascinating in all cases is that Potipher's wife receives so much attention. Even when (or if) the tale is being used to show the wantonness of a bad woman, she becomes a character in her own right and gets more "screen time" than anybody else. And a number of writers have perceived her sympathetically, a character who is battling desires and emotions she can't conquer. In early modern Europe, she became a kind of argument between libertines, anti-libertines (hugely influenced by reviving Stoicism), and those who took more nuanced views towards human desire. 

Contrite Judah

The Bible story itself is less concerned with the virginity/non-virgininity state of the hero and more with the social ramifications of adultery. Joseph resists because lying with his master's wife would be dishonorable. Consider that Judah's tale (stuck in the middle of Joseph's tale) is about a man who didn't see to the security of his daughter-in-law. His failure is condemned and the daughter-in-law who tricked him into sleeping with her is let off the hook. Fast-forward to David: Nathan's biggest problem with David is that David misused his position.

Post-ancient world, adultery becomes not (only) a violation of a social contract but a matter for the individual soul. The change of perspective elicited a great many questions and opinions. The result was a focus on the person who struggles with that issue: the wife--not Joseph.

Easter Message: Faith Isn't About Perfection

I came across a book [in 2009] about a man losing his faith. I flipped it open and immediately come across this argument (which I've encountered before):

I know so many religious people who don't practice what they preach; their religions (organized religions, usually) must therefore be pointless or useless or false.

I wanted to go on record as saying, I have never understood this argument. It rests on several fallacies, and the fallacies are, well, fallacious:

Fallacy #1: People practice their beliefs.

Got people? The gap between practice and belief is a fundamental truth of human nature from parents who smoke but tell their kids not to all the way to environmentalists who inform you about the earth's dwindling resources with one of their 2 million pamphlets (recycle, schmycled: it's still paper). These are, perhaps, obvious hypocrisies. There are still the usual gaps between private and public acts/beliefs and between private and public faces. Yes, ideally (see 2), people should be the same everywhere they go though I'm not even sure about that. I'm politically libertarian and religiously conservative. That is, I support certain actions politically that I don't practice personally. However, I don't pretend about it to anyone, so maybe that's the point.

Fallacy #2: People should practice their beliefs, and if they don't, their beliefs are not true or good.

The problem with this argument--which is obviously problematic but lots of people buy into it--is its corollary: If people do practice their beliefs, those beliefs must be true (martyrdom is often seen in this light). Most people will reject the latter statement as erroneous but accept the prior statement as true.

If I'm right, and people are flawed, then #2 is a non-starter. If I drive over the speed limit, that doesn't mean there is no speed limit. It could mean that the speed limit is unfairly low. But that is arguably an entirely different matter from whether or not a speed limit exists, which is a separate matter from whether a speed limit is a good idea. 

A thing can be true. It can be untrue. How people react to that truth is an independent and personal matter.

Arguably, in the long run, bad beliefs will consistently result in bad outcomes and good beliefs will consistently result in good outcomes ("fruit of the tree") but those experiments rest on people trying out the beliefs in the first place.

Fallacy #3: People should practice their beliefs, but if they only practice part of them, that's as good as them not practicing any of them.

This argument isn't too different from that bumper sticker I hate: "No one is free if others are oppressed." And it is so fundamentally inaccurate (and nihilistic), it's hard to know how reasonable/perceptive people can believe it. A man may be nice to his wife and kids but not so nice to his neighbors. It doesn't follow that his inability to be nice to everyone means that he is an entire failure at his religion (though it does depend on the religion) or that he should stop being nice to everyone entirely.

Of course, he probably should be nice to his neighbors. But it isn't an either/or proposition. Flaws do not indicate complete failure. I suppose there is a point where the equation tips, and the flaws outweigh the average person's ability to be perceived as good and kind. But from my perspective, that equation had better be pretty generous. I think many an academic argument has failed to understand an event or individual because the equation was not generous enough. I'm reading The Magician's Book by Laura Miller right now in which Miller attempts to balance what she perceives as C.S. Lewis's flaws with his talents in order to reach a balanced appreciation of books (the Narnia Chronicles) she loved as a child. I don't completely agree with her analysis or her arguments (or even her form of criticism since I put more weight on performance than I do on reading-between-the-lines), but I can read her book because of her generous perspective.

Deciding that someone's failure to live up to an ideal is the sum total of someone's personality is not an accurate, or charitable, assessment.

All groups are strange.

Fallacy #4: All groups are nasty to outsiders, thus all groups are bad; if someone is dissatisfied with a group (i.e. organized religion), it must mean that group has treated that person badly and behaved intolerantly (no other reason).

The truth is, the first part of the above statement appears to be part of the human condition: groups are nasty to outsiders. 

Back when I lived in Washington State, I listen to a lot of talk radio. One day, I was listening to a discussion of "whether gays can be Republican." I don't really understand these types of arguments. I figure people can do whatever they want. But the guest speaker, a gay writer about economics, was talking, and I started listening, and okay, I'll admit, economics mostly bore me but he had a fantastic voice: Bing Crosby meets James Earl Jones. Golden honey.

So he got done talking, and people started calling in, and a lot of the callers said things like, "Hi, I'm a fundamentalist conservative, and I think what you have to say is great!"

Any guesses on the angriest callers? Yep, those who thought the man had "betrayed" the Democratic Party by being a fiscal conservative.

I think my disillusionment about so-called liberal/left "tolerance" started about then. Actually, I was never really "disillusioned" because I've never really believed liberals were automatically more tolerant than anyone else, but my belief that similar types of human reactions can be found within any group received serious support on that day.

Unfortunately that reaction--"Traitor!"--isn't atypical. Humans are social animals and tend to act accordingly. We shouldn't (says the libertarian in me), but we do.

What bothers me about the claim, "All groups are nasty to outsiders, thus all groups are bad, so all dissatisfaction by the individual must be due to the group" is how seldom that claim allows for nuance and complication: that is, a group behaves a certain way, and everyone assumes that the group is behaving according to the cliché without examining the underlying, individual causes or variations.

Example #1: Burning witches is nasty; however, the cliché is that sweet, angelic, herb-planting midwives were scampering about their beautiful gardens worshiping earth-goddesses when the mean patriarchy (organized group) came along and burned them. For no reason at all!

Writers, such as Diane Purkiss, have pointed out that the witches weren't always angelic or midwives. In fact, often midwives testified against witches. Writers, such as Dan Burton and David Grandy, have pointed out that most witch accusations were made in small communities with long-standing grudges (not exactly systematic) and that in the few cases where accusations were systematic, men and boys were often executed as well.

The cliché tells a generalized truth: generally, women were accused and executed more than men, and generally, they tended to be marginalized members of their communities. Plus burning witches isn't nice. But it misses all the real-life realities: all the interesting stuff about actual trials and cases and individuals.

Example #2: When I first moved to Maine, I worked as a secretary in a law school. It was one of the most ideologically diverse places I've ever worked. We were all white but religiously and politically speaking, we had a representative for just about every position: mainstream, fundamentalist, atheist, agnostic, Democratic, liberal, Republican, conservative, Marxist . . .

Everyone got along okay, but ideologically-speaking, I was just about the only person there who didn't think someone was out to get me: big business, liberals, crazy religious people, diehard right-wingers, etc. etc. etc.

I figured they couldn't all be right--at least, not all right in the same place at the same time: Southern Maine wasn't going to become, in the next ten years, a left-leaning, fascist nightmare filled with godless, God-fearing fundamentalist Donald Trumps. I mean, sure, Maine taxes people too much, but I'm not sure one could blame that on left-leaning-fascist-godless-God-fearing-fundamentalist-Donald-Trumps. One could try, I suppose. But it would be kind of hard. I don't think even I could do it, and I believe that people are complicated and don't come all-of-a-piece.

This is the problem with saying (to condense the fallacy), "Oh, the group is to blame; the group is making me unhappy." It could be true. The people where I worked believed it was true, but that didn't automatically make it true or even probable. In fact, they'd each created an image of an anti-group and then become frightened by the image. (Who are all these conspiring people? Where are they?) I was more impressed by the fact that everyone got along okay, no matter how paranoid.

In other words, groups can behave badly, but they also usually behave complexly, so blaming the group (rather than the individual) may be correct, but it also may not, especially since the group--or the image of the group--may not even exist. In any case, "the group as bad guy" is not a given.

The above is an Easter message because--unlike some of the early 1800s religious messages I've been researching lately--this message asserts that perfection is not a requirement for God's grace. We needn't be ashamed of our imperfect natures or try to force that shame on others through illogical arguments. 

The exact nature of the relationship between grace and energy or desire or improvement is a difficult one--and not one I will attempt to solve here. Suffice to say: 

It is a possible one. 

Interview with the Translator: Twelve Kingdoms, the Problem of Evil & Heaven

Kate: In The Shore in Twilight, Risai (with good reason) is very upset about the unfairness of life and blames Heaven. The response, though kindly, is basically, “This is life. Get over it.” 

The problem of evil is a constant theological problem. How does Japanese culture handle the problem? Is there more of a “accept it—move on” attitude? Does Catholic original sin resonate better than Protestant hand-wringing on the same topic?

Americans (with their very Protestant culture) have currently turned original sin or the “natural” man into a kind of idol, as opposed to a condition--something that requires obeisance. The thinking seems to be that once everybody gets on-board and agrees to wallow in the narrative of evil, utopia will follow. 

It seems to me that The Twelve Kingdoms rejects this tidy solution. Instead, the thinking is, Don’t worship at the altar of original sin, even the original sin of your own guilt—it’s tacky. Utopia won’t follow. Get over it and do your job.

Thoughts?

Eugene: Japan almost seems to delight in irking its neighbors by refusing to wallow in the sins of the past. Its own sins, that is. John Dower discusses the roots of this attitude at length in Embracing Defeat.

In Buddhism, desire and ignorance lie at the root of all human suffering. This is summed up in the Four Noble Truths:

1. 
   Suffering, pain, and misery exist in life.
2. Suffering arises from attachment to desires.
3. Suffering ceases when attachment to desire ceases.
4. Freedom from suffering is possible by practicing the Eightfold Path.

The Eightfold Path consists of pursuing and mastering the Right understanding, Right thought, Right speech, Right action, Right livelihood, Right effort, Right mindfulness, Right concentration. Right thought points back at the Four Noble Truths. This is the way the world is and it's not changing anytime soon. But two through eight are addressed through individual effort.

Pure Land Buddhism, the most popular sect in Japan, arose from the belief that there is no world that is not corrupt, so rebirth on another plane, the Pure Land, is the goal. The focus is on getting there. What it is doesn't matter much, only that it's better than here and so is worth striving for.

As in Angel Beats, the effort is on confronting the Four Noble Truths with the Eightfold Path so as to ensure the best outcome for your reborn self. Everybody in Angel Beats lived short, unfair lives, but that is irrelevant now. They can't fix society. They can only address their own failings. A major failing is being obsessed with the bad things that happened to them in mortality.

Angel Beats doesn't actually mention any of this specifically. But that's the road they eventually realize they all have to follow to move on.

Kate: In The Shore in Twilight, The Queen Mother of the West comes across as a rather remote, entirely rational being. This view of heaven is far closer to the views of C.S. Lewis--who perceived the dead as inherently disinterested in the problems of mortality--than, say, the perspective of the movie Ghost.

Do both approaches exist in Japanese art? Remote heaven and concerned heaven? Does one approach take precedence over the other? There's always the Catholic approach—God is remote but saints are close. How does that compare?

Eugene: Heaven, in the Christian sense, is "over the horizon." This in contrast to the heaven of the pantheon, the country club where the gods hang out. Basically the rules making committee. Shows like Kamichu, Gingitsune, and Noragami have a lot of fun with the godhead as a vast bureaucracy that constantly bickers and fights like the Greek gods (when they're not partying).

Though if you play your cards right, it doesn't hurt to get one of the minor gods on your side, like Yato in Noragami. Noragami tackles both the high and the low, dealing with the dead that have remained behind because of their worldly attachments and are causing problems, and also with the convoluted politics of the pantheon (Yato made a lot of enemies in the past).

Kate: A Mormon movie--I think it was God's Army--argued that the God one believes in is entirely determined by one's parental figure. How was a person raised to believe authority figures should or will behave? Does the same exist here?

Eugene: It seems a weird reversal, but the West (speaking broadly) insists that society is responsible for the individual, while the East says that the individual is responsible for society ("every man is a part of the main"). This leads to a "nail that sticks up gets hammered down" mentality. But it also has the paradoxical effect of placing responsibility back on the individual.

In other words, self-esteem is not something that society imparts upon the individual. It has to be earned. As Lenora Chu makes clear,

"Self-esteem" doesn't exist in the Chinese lexicon, at least not in the way Americans use it. In China, a child's regard for herself is rarely as important as [are] stark evaluations of performance. Almost as if child-rearing were an Olympic sport, the Chinese rank children on everything from work ethic to Chinese character recognition and musical skill.

The difference in Japan is that Japanese parents spend less time in tiger mom mode. Rather, they (and society at large) set rigorous goals and expectations that children are supposed to aspire to and achieve through their own effort (ganbaru). More often than not in Japanese high school dramas, the parents are nowhere in sight, or are hanging back at a safe distance.

Of course, the real world might beg to differ. But it is interesting what gets idealized in our storytelling. This may explain why the spunky orphan (or virtual orphan) who rises above the lousy hand she was dealt in life is such a popular character in Japanese YA fiction.

1 Corinthians 13 In Context

Verses 4-8 often get read at weddings--in real life and on many, many television episodes: Love is kind...

Did Paul have any idea that he was preparing the wedding sermon to surpass all wedding sermons? What is Paul saying? In context?

In context, Paul is discussing spiritual gifts. I'm going to skip forward to Chapter 14 and then skip back. 

Paul begins Chapter 14 with his opinion about speaking in tongues. As nicely as he can, he allows that a person speaking in tongues in a church meeting might actually be speaking in tongues (not, ehem, showing off) but, well, it doesn't do much good, does it, if the spoken part of the equation isn't interpreted?

At one point, he states, "For he that speaketh in an unknown tongue speaketh not until men, but until God" (2). Two verses later, he gives himself away by stating, "He that speaketh in an unknown tongue edifieth himself" (4).

Keep in mind, Paul is dictating his letter out loud--his next arguments could be used in a debate about deconstructionalism and art: 

Any sound can be pleasing but if it doesn't have some order, it's just sounds. And what's the point if there's no audience? There's no meeting of the minds here. 

Besides, I know more languages than you folks. (Seriously, he says this--the reason I love Paul.) 

But when I come to visit, I won't show off. I'll speak so you understand me. 

Don't act like kids! Okay, actually, when it comes to being jerks (like suing people), you should be ready to forgive the way kids do--but when it comes to instructing others, use your heads! 

And besides, this speaking in tongues business makes us look nuts to others. 

So...

Here is where the problem-solver in Paul comes out:

If you are going to speak in tongues, make sure there's an interpreter handy. Otherwise, be quiet. 

Then Paul starts talking about women being silent in church. 

Here is another reason I advocate context when reading the scriptures. Pull that scripture out of context and it looks downright strange since Paul had great relationships with women and commends them in other places/letters as church leaders.

It helps to realize (1) Paul is talking to a specific group of people about a specific problem; (2) Paul never indicates even remotely that he thinks he is speaking for some collective ideological power-base called "Christianity"; (3) Corinthians weren't Jews. 

Paul was dealing with a population that he understood but likely didn't entirely empathize with, namely a population that brought its Greek/Roman/Egyptian beliefs and practices into Christianity (a normal tendency when people switch religions/cultures!). 

The link between random people getting up and pronouncing complicated sounds (likely, magical spells--not in the "I'm going to curse you" sense but in the "repeat the spell for protection" sense) and women doing....something...indicates that while Paul could "translate" certain pagan rituals into Jewish/Christian terms, he had no idea what to do with Dionysian/Eleusinian rituals whereby women tore their clothes and danced wildly about and basically acted like teenagers at a dance club. 

Paul wasn't prepared for mosh pits. 

His answer: Just stop doing it. 

Offended people often miss that Paul then goes after the speaking men: You think you're hot stuff, guys. You're not. God is in charge, remember? 

So, "Therefore, my brothers and sisters, be eager to prophesy, and do not forbid speaking in tongues" (30, my emphasis). 

It is quite amazing how often Paul comes down on the side of "let things alone." 

Skipping back to Chapter 12, in sum, Paul states, There are lots of spiritual gifts. They aren't all the same. But they all of manifestations of God's grace.

He then produces the remarkable analogy of members being one body made of distinct parts. Yeah, sure, some parts stand out more, but every part is useful and has purpose. 

Chapter 13 is sandwiched between these two chapters.

Chapter 13:4-8 is beautiful and deserves to be quoted in full. I use the King James Version. However, I replaced "charity" with "magnanimity."

Many translations use "love," but "love" is off the mark as well. The Greek is agape. It is bigger than charity (as charity has come to mean) and bigger than romantic love although in many ways, in fairness to the wedding sermon approach, romantic love comes closer. It is unconditional, directed at God and humans, unfettered by doubt, all-encompassing. 

Magnanimity suffers long and is kind; magnanimity does not envy; magnanimity does not parade itself, is not puffed up; does not behave rudely, does not seek its own, is not provoked, thinks no evil; does not rejoice in iniquity, but rejoices in the truth; bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. Magnanimity never fails. 

It is no error that Paul goes on to discuss imperfection, or, as the New International Version correctly translates, incompleteness. Paul is well-aware that agape is a big, big, big demand. 

For we know in part and we prophesy in part. But when that which is perfect [complete] has come, then that which is in part will be done away. When I was a child, I spoke as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child; but when I became a man, I put away childish things. For now we see in a mirror, darkly, but then face to face. Now I know in part, but then I shall know just as I also am known. 

If Paul wasn't wandering about a room, talking out loud, this chapter would end the argument. But he is thinking through the problem, so it comes in the middle. Yet it addresses all three chapters' underlying point:

But whether there are prophecies, they will fail; whether there are tongues, they will cease; whether there is knowledge, it will vanish away.

And now abide faith, hope, magnanimity, these three; but the greatest of these is magnanimity. 

In sum, in more than one place, Paul creates policies, only to wipe them out in a single gesture or phrase. Here's how to run the church, but you know what...

 I think in the end, that is so much dross. What really matters is that nothing is perfect now, so being cool with that imperfection through the application of magnanimity is a good idea. In other words, stop fussing so much about how other people messed up, making me write letters about all your fussing.

Hence the passage from 1 Corinthians 3:10-13 that I seldom encounter from any organization but deserves to be considered in full--keep in mind, Paul is cross because congregations are splitting into factions supposedly based on ideological arguments but truly based on high school cliquey behavior (I was baptized by so-and-so):

According to the grace of God which is given unto me, as a wise masterbuilder, I have laid the foundation, and another buildeth thereon. But let every man take heed how he buildeth thereupon. For other foundation can no man lay than that is laid, which is Jesus Christ. Now if any man build upon this foundation gold, silver, precious stones, wood, hay, stubble, every man's work shall be made manifest: for the day shall declare it, because it shall be revealed by fire; and the fire shall try every man's work of what sort it is. If any man's work abide which he hath built thereupon, he shall receive a reward. If any man's work shall be burned, he shall suffer loss: but he himself shall be saved; yet so [also] as by fire. (My emphasis.)

If Paul came right out and stated, Every church thinks it is the bee's knees. And maybe it is. Oh, well, God will find out 'cause that is God's job. But God also looks after the individual. So concentrate on your foundation and stop bugging other people about theirs. And, really, stop complaining to me about it--

 

He couldn't be more clear. 

Romantic Dysfunctions in Bible Stories: Joseph, David, and Judah

The excellent New Media/Genesis Project version--my

favorite--which indicates that Potiphar knows very well

what really happened but has to act on his wife's

accusation. But he doesn't have Joseph killed!

In previous posts, I discuss the power of roles and expectations in determining when betrayal has occurred.

Two Bible stories underscore this power. In both cases, adultery is on the table as a problem or potential problem. Yet in both cases, the offense is less the sex itself and more the betrayal of a role and its attendant duties/expectations. 

Joseph & Potiphar's Wife

Joseph refuses Potiphar's wife because of the debt he owes his master. 

No one is greater in this house than I am. My master has withheld nothing from me except you, because you are his wife. How then could I do such a wicked thing and sin against God?

David & Everybody

When Nathan, the prophet, confronts David, his accusation--in the form of a parable about a rich man, poor man, and ewe-lamb--is a condemnation of David's use of royal privilege at the expense of his citizens. It is one of the most remarkably modern political statements in the Bible regarding power and law.

In neither case is the actual act the point of blame. As C.S. Lewis points out in The Screwtape Letters, once a physical sin is effected, the sin has already occurred. Pleasure is God's contribution since Satan cannot create happiness. (Screwtape bemoans this fact to Wormtongue--Hell wants people to be miserable, no matter what.)

The viewpoint in Joseph and David's stories is pre-Victorianism. It is pre-oh, no, a woman lost her virginity-men are such dirty dogs!, a state of mind that still resides in our current culture (and for which I blame both the religious right and the progressive, Ivory Tower left). 

The offense with Joseph and David is that the act of adultery undermines trust between a man and his servant, a king and his nation. Despite artistic license (see above), in neither case is the woman presented and blamed as some kind of sexual deviant.

Hence, the odd story of Judah in the middle of Joseph's tale: Judah fails to find a husband for his daughter-in-law, who then proceeds to take on the role of a prostitute and seduce him. When the purpose of her act is discovered, the community--which was prepared to stone her--goes, "Oh, okay." Judah is shamed and the matter is closed. 

The problem is not the sex. The problem is that he didn't do his job. 

The New Testament places greater emphasis on the individual's relationship to God but still circles back to the social implications. Jesus speaks to the woman taken in adultery only after he has disposed of her bullies. In addition, Jesus speaks very highly of David whose repentance takes the form of modern-like self-condemnation and pleas for mercy. David repairs his relationship directly with God.

In classical Christianity, back-biting, reviling, pride, one-up-manship, and dog-eat-dog behaviors are consistently considered worse than the physical sins. 

To be continued...

Romances Hate Adultery: Esther and Miss Fisher

Hollywood loves to turn the Bible into action, adventure, and romance! And in some cases, it works. 

It doesn't really work for Esther. 

Not that Hollywood and television hasn't tried. And there are decent versions out there. But Esther as one among many wives doesn't really make for romance, even in the polyamorous romance sub-genre. 

Actually, in comparison to its films, which nearly always go the romance route, the book of Esther is remarkably smart about politics. The book is likely fiction based loosely on historical events. Let me make clear: There is nothing wrong with this! The Bible contains poetry and drama, fiction and proverbs and parables and everything else under the sun.

And the story of Esther is impressive since the writer knew how to plot!

What makes Esther, the character, stand out is not how much the king loves her but how cleverly she plays the cards at her disposal. She knows she has limited time to make a positive and lasting impression; she uses the opportunity at her disposal to bring about political change. 

It's a good story. It likely lasted, in part, because of the soupcon of romance. Naturally, the possibility of romance is too much for filmmakers to pass up--

Yet therein lies a problem. Viewers don't really like adultery. (See here for why polyamorous relationships are not automatically adulterous.)

When Australia television/ABC presented The Miss Fisher Mysteries, the writers changed Phryne's lover from Lin Chung to Jack Robinson. There are strong plotting reasons for this--an ongoing series needs a police detective to be continually present. And the series doesn't completely dispose of Lin Chung. He shows up in at least one episode.

I suggest another reason for the change: in the books, Lin Chung eventually marries to make his family happy. He truly has no choice; the marriage is a cultural--and for his bride, a survival--necessity. His wife and Phryne become friends. He and Phryne continue as lovers.

To moderns, this blithe acceptance of adultery is hard to take. It is easier to explain in a book where the author can provide social context and lay-out for readers the society in which the characters operate. 

However, the truth is, few contemporary historical regency romances fall back on the "open marriage contract" as a solution, even M/M romances. I suspect that the Fisher scriptwriters were additionally uncomfortable with the possible implications: that Phryne would allow herself to be supposedly degraded by becoming the "other" woman. The book doesn't present her decision in this way. But the perception lingers. Even Wikipedia concentrates on Phryne as open to "free love" rather than the fact that she and Lin Chung are a relatively monogamous couple for a large number of the books--despite Lin Chung having a wife.

As I maintain elsewhere, the desire for the one-and-only is very, very old. The Bible gives us politics in Esther. It reserves romance for the Song of Songs. 

Christmas Angel Stories: The Loss of Physical Religion

The Christmas Angel series illustrates an odd and influential attitude-shift over the last three hundred years.

The Christmas Angel series is a set of seven books in which an angel carving, originally created in the mid-1700s, brings together different M/M couples, each in a different time period.

All the books are worth reading. The first three books are the best with Anyta Sunday's clever Shakespeare-tribute Shrewd Angel making a surprise, stellar appearance as number 6.

From a historical point of view, here is what interests me: the first three books use the angel in frankly paranormal ways (but not so much that a plot is lost). In addition, the angel is frankly pro-physical love, neither embarrassed nor squeamish about it.

Eli Easton starts off the series with the origin tale: Christmas Angel. The angel is a fully-fledged character, full of humor and goodwill and a wink. She exists outside her representative, the carved version--like Saint Winifred of the Cadfael Mysteries exists outside her bones. Also like Saint Winifred, she is down to earth, shrewd, and a fan of romance.

Summerfield's Angel by Kim Fielding comes next (if you read them in order, which isn't necessary, but I more or less did). The angel appears again as a character with a message. This time she is even a little bossy!

The angel makes less of a character appearance in Jordan Hawk's Magician's Angel. But her statue is part of a magician's act and she absolutely would not mind.

The books that follow are worth the low price (approximately $4 per novella) but the angel becomes more symbolic, less vital and human and real. L.A. Witt's World War II piece handles its soldiers well (as usual) but the angel seems a bit disconnected from the tale. N.R. Walker's Vietnam War piece--though interesting in its own right--heavily implies that the angel is prudish about human love. And R.J. Scott's tale ends far too abruptly and fails to pay off the angel's possible paranormal whisperings.

Anyta Sunday's Shrewd Angel (1990) is not only clever but satisfying since the angel statue does play a role within the plot. And there is some suggestion of paranormal interfering. But not much.

Over the course of the books, the paranormal element fades while the angel becomes a far more fastidious character than established in Easton's origin tale. Less the frank and fleshy nuns of Brother Cadfael (or even the well-lived nun of the Father Dowling Mysteries) and more like--I'm not sure. I have a hard time thinking of a literary comparison since I don't read religious books with prudish nuns or angels. (Or watch shows with them either.)

I don't know if the change was on purpose--that is, the authors determined beforehand that the angel's role and attitude would change over time. Or whether the choice of authors for each book explains why the angel changed over time. Whatever the cause, the outcome oddly enough matches up to changes in the last 300 years, changes that have resulted in modern conflicted shock and reproach.

We 21st Century folks like to imagine that we are so bold and brash and frank and--depending on who's talking--salacious and obscene and indecent and pornographic.

The fact is, we aren't anywhere close to any of those things, no matter how we present or criticize ourselves.

Truth: In many ways the Victorians were more

honest about sex than modern Americans.

20th Century Bohemians were far more

fastidious than they liked to pretend.

In other words, we're offended by everything: women breastfeeding in public, the idea that God might not be opposed to sex, bare bodies bathing or dressing together, religious ceremonies that focus on the physical form, frank discussions of sexual matters, women as sexual beings, men as sexual beings, varying sexual orientations that don't fit into labels, people sharing rooms, people sharing bathtubs, people giving birth at home, other people being present during births, National Geographic magazines, the nude in art, romance paperbacks, romance paperback covers, songs that mention sex, manga, bawdy humor.

Do not make the mistake of thinking that all this offense is coming from the right. Or that all of this shocked unease is coming from religious people. Christianity makes a good scapegoat. But old-time Christianity had no trouble discussing sex as a reality. From Paul to Augustine to young pregnant single girls praying to the Virgin Mary, sex was something real to grapple with.

The testicle joke at the beginning of Witness is far more

realistic to agrarian cultures than modern attitudes account for.

I maintain that the two biggest influences on our modern attitudes regarding sexual matters are the growth of privacy and the worries of intellectuals. As human beings gained privacy (post 1750), we become far more prudish. In an earlier post on Votaries, I called this "prudish prurient permissiveness whereby a partially clad body is instantly sexualized by those who take offense and by those who take an interest while both the offended and the interested are scandalized at the idea of having to share a bedroom or bathroom."

Reality: Puritans told bawdy jokes. And slept together before marriage. And knew all about sex since living near animals kind of gives the plot away. They were well-aware of the vagaries of the human, physical form.

Never trust a historian or a politician or an offended commentator (and there are lots of those out there) that tries to tell you that once upon a time, people were ever so naive and closeted and didn't know all the things we know. Instead, ask yourself what our ancestors would find to laugh about when it comes to us.

Good versus Bad Relationships in the Scriptures: The True Message of Sodom & Gomorrah

The story of Sodom & Gomorrah is an exploration of what makes a good relationship versus what makes a bad one.

Some Clarifications

First, the Old Testament (I am using Christian terminology) is a mix of documents. When the first ancient scholars pulled these documents together, they knew exactly what they were doing. The narratives themselves may be incomplete in places and sometimes even contradict each other but the order/presentation of them is no mistake.

Genesis Chapter 18 and Genesis Chapter 19 are set next to each other for a reason.

Second, the story of Sodom has absolutely nothing to do with sexual orientation. That is a later interpretation which does not make sense in the context of ancient societies. Sodom is a dangerous city (think Gotham City), so dangerous that staying out at night in the town square is ill-advised. Sex is about rape, dominance. Sex between men would have exactly the same connotation as it did in many (not all) ancient societies. And the same connotation that it often has in modern-day prisons.

Think of Sodom as a brutal prison with no guards or deeply corrupt ones.

The story of Sodom (Chapter 19) is set in direct contrast to Chapter 18, the visit by the Heavenly Visitors to Abraham. The two chapters cannot be separated.

Basically, this is a narrative of contrasts: Abraham versus Lot. Unfortunately, once again, Lot comes out looking fairly shabby.

1. What do both Abraham and Lot do when they met the Visitors?

They both offer sanctuary and food. So far, so good.

2. What do the brothers bargain for? 

Lot bargains to go to a nearby city, Zoar.

The guy lives in an extremely dangerous urban environment, which is about to be blasted to literal kingdom come. And he wants to hang around the area for his own convenience.

Abraham bargains for lives.

3. What happens to the wives? Why the difference?

In the family's scramble to leave Sodom, Lot's wife looks back and turns to salt. Again, it is necessary to look at the narrative in context. A modern audience might feel a little bad that Lot's wife was punished (or suffered the outcome of a natural disaster) simply because she was curious.

But in ancient literature, looking back carries a stronger motive of distrust (as opposed to re-examination). Consider the Greek myth of Orpheus & Eurydice--he doesn't trust she is behind him and looks back at the final moment. Eurydice retreats into the Underworld (in the Cynthia Voigt book Orfe, the roles are reversed).

What or whom doesn't Lot's wife trust? If you were Lot's wife, would you trust Lot?

On the other hand, Sarah laughs at a Visitor's statement that she will bear a son. She is questioned for her laughter but not punished. Her laugh is natural, normal, even kinda cute. This is a pleasant, civilized party. Why would anybody get punished?

4. Do Isaac and Ishmael ever demonstrate any rage, disrespect, or direct disobedience against Abraham? 

Isaac & Ishmael come together

to bury Abraham.

No.

Lot's daughters get their father drunk and sleep with him in order to get pregnant.

The Lesson

The Bible editors did not make a mistake. The contrasts between Abraham and Lot are deliberate and not hard to spot. The overall message is clear and rather remarkable:

A good relationship--including a good relationship with deity--involves questions, compromise, kindliness, hospitality, and consent.

Abraham is encouraged to ask questions. He bravely pursues certain issues. He asks for help. He thinks about others.

Lot asks few questions. He tries to bully the Visitors. He never asks for help for others, not even for his daughters. He bargains for his own convenience.

I personally find it fascinating that the idea of consent, discussion, and agreement to terms would be so old--and would include not just other people (spouse, parent, child) but the relationship between humanity & God as well.

Remarkable.

Romance Stories Throughout Time: Isaac and Rebekah

In Genesis, Abraham sends his servant to find a wife for his son, Isaac. When the servant reaches Nahor, he waits by the well and prays for a sign. The young woman who draws water for his camels, as well as for himself, will be the chosen young woman.

Rebekah arrives and fulfills the servant's criteria. She goes beyond the request by offering the servant a place to stay (no Motel 6 in those days). The servant, who is no fool, immediately decorates her with various pieces of jewelry. Rebekah runs home to her brother Laban, who is also no fool. Negotiations ensue.

I prefer this version--note Rebekah's skepticism.

Laban's family tries to stave off the moment when Rebekah leaves. There are various theories about this; knowing Laban from later, I put down the procrastination to Laban's desire to increase the dowry. The servant, who likely deserved a fairly hefty commission from Abraham for his negotiation strategies (it takes the concentrated efforts of Jacob and both his wives to outwit Laban later), pleads duty to God and his Master: I really do have to return home.

Laban's family finally agrees to ask Rebekah what she wants to do. Rebekah, who is a tough cookie and likely felt massively overshadowed in her brother's house, determines to leave.

The passage ends thus:

Now Isaac had come from Beer Lahai Roi, for he was living in the Negev. He went out to the field one evening to meditate, and as he looked up, he saw camels approaching. Rebekah also looked up and saw Isaac. She got down from her camel and asked the servant, “Who is that man in the field coming to meet us?”

“He is my master,” the servant answered. So she took her veil and covered herself.

The Bible is replete with tough women determining their marriage choices--or at least determining the type of marriage they will have. Rebekah may have ended the endless dowry negotiations; she made sure they started in the first place.

The Genesis writers did have a romantic streak, however. Although the tale would possibly be more romantic if Isaac rather than the servant was doing the negotiating--or if the servant was Isaac in disguise--it would have been far less realistic. And the writers went out of their way to mention Rebekah's first sight of Isaac and her acceptance of the marriage (when she covers herself). Individuals do matter; marriage is more than a contract between nameless, personality-less bodies.

This is a seed that will make its way through several hundreds of years to blossom in the nineteenth century. But it was there from the beginning.