Cleopatra, Sex and Women’s Rights (2nd Edit)

Cleopatra VII ruled Egypt for twenty-two years. She lost a kingdom, regained it, amassed an empire, and lost it all. A goddess as a child, a queen at eighteen, she was an object of speculation and veneration, a living myth in her own time. At the height of her power she controlled virtually the entire eastern Mediterranean coast, the last great kingdom of any Egyptian ruler, and for a brief moment she held the fate of the Western world in her hands. She died – spectacularly and sensationally – at the age of thirty-nine, a generation before the birth of Christ. Shakespeare spoke of her infinite variety.

He had no idea.

And yet the enduring impression of Cleopatra two thousand years later is one of a sexy seductress; a bedeviling Egyptian siren that lured the two most powerful men of her age into her bed. (Julius Caesar, and later his protégé, Marc Antony) 

But who cares about an ancient Egyptian Queen. What difference does her life and our interpretation of it even matter? And why is Cleopatra still relevant, all these years later?

Considering the number of plays and poems and volumes that have been written about one her, it’s impossible to cover a fingernail’s worth of the complexity of her story. There are occasions, however, when even a quick overview like this can be helpful. Especially in a culture that prefers simple, binary snapshots of great historical figures.

Historically, women have been viewed in two ways. Madonna. (Virgin, the Mother) Or Whore. (Seductress, Siren)

These are, generally speaking, not only the historical definitions of women, but the way we still tend to categorize them. Interestingly, most people don’t realize that the gender division in Western culture was largely fostered by the Romans (especially during the Republic), who had very clear ideas about men and women and their roles in culture.

Julius Caesar was certainly one of those men. He’d just defeated his rival, the great general Pompei, when he arrived in Alexandria in 48 BCE, hoping to settle Egypt and collect the massive debt Cleopatra’s father had racked up in buying off the inevitable Roman advance. He did not expect to be captivated by an eighteen year old queen. Certainly not one who had been forced to sneak into her own house to avoid her murderous brother and his army. Cleopatra was not just another queen, however, even for the powerful and accomplished genius that was Caesar. This teenager was the direct descendant of Alexander the Great, a Macedonian Greek and the prodigy of generations of the Ptolemic Empire. She spoke nine languages, was well versed in military affairs, and even in a time when women rulers were no rarity, she stood out. She was a charismatic speaker and the first Ptolemy to learn the language of the people she ruled. And yet though little was said of her beauty (she was likely somewhat plain) she is remembered as a seductress.

Um, what?

Months after the Civil War had ended, Caesar remained in Alexandria, and there’s little doubt that he stayed because of Cleopatra and shared her bed.

That harlot.

At least, that’s how she was considered by Roman historians like Plutarch. You could make a case she was only protecting her kingdom, that Caesar was purely a political conquest and she needed a powerful ally if she was going to keep Egypt independent. You could also consider those who wished her dead (which in the tradition of the highly interbred Ptolemies meant family members regularly murdered on another) and suggest that she had no other choice.

Or, you could do the unthinkable and suggest that it was Caesar who seduced the young queen. As great as Cleopatra was to become, Caesar was perhaps the most brilliant and powerful ruler in Western history; a handsome and striking womanizer who we recognize as one of the few humans to change the course of the world. Unlike Caesar, who relied on brains and wit and courage to conquer much of the known world, according to the historians, Cleopatra used her father’s riches and sex to accomplish the same tasks. When we discuss Cleopatra, ultimately the discussion revolves around her looks, ironically the most opaque part of what is known about her. Amazingly, we still find it difficult to imagine a woman using something other than sex to conquer as a ruler.

When Cleopatra later coupled with Marc Antony, years after Caesar had been assassinated, Roman officers still couldn’t fathom a woman being involved in military matters. Even in the face of overwhelming evidence of her ability, they would complain to Antony about her presence in the command tents.

The irony, sad as it is, is that Rome’s legacy (Western Culture), still divides its culture by gender two thousand years later.

More than two millennia removed from one of the greatest leaders in history and many are still wondering when women will learn their “place.” We still have leaders and people who doubt the ability of a woman to rule. Certainly most of the major religions have little time for women in leadership, with only some exceptions. Christians continued the Roman tradition of the Republic and later the Empire regarding its view of women. And Islam, an offshoot of Judaism and Christianity, followed the same tradition. What’s inexcusable is how little our so-called religious leaders know their history. A Christian “manual” for women published in 2011, for example, explains that girls are supposed to be soft and feminine and men are designed to be strong. It offers “proof” of this by noting how little girls preferred to twirl in front of the mirror, while little boys prefer to flex their muscles.

That such nonsense dominates our culture is all the more amazing when we realize that two thousand years ago, one of the most brilliant and accomplished people in history faced the same question many women face today, for the very same reason.

She did, however, leave us a legacy we should not soon forget; a continual reminder that dividing people by gender, in regards to power and ability and tendencies, is not only ignorant, but easily exposes the prejudice beneath it. That prejudice here in the West, a legacy of the Romans and their historians, is one we should address, and change accordingly.

-Steve

NOTE: Ancient Egypt had some of the most egalitarian laws in history. Women had nearly as many rights as men, and they were known for their advancement and culture and education. Following Cleopatra’s death, however, those rights slowly eroded, and when Islam eventually became the religion of the land those rights disappeared altogether. This was clearly in evidence in 2011 during the riots in Egypt, when Egyptian men were caught on video screaming at the protesting women to go back into the kitchen and mind the house, something an ancient Roman would have said.

From the Scrolls: Cleopatra, Sex and Women’s Rights

Cleopatra VII ruled Egypt for twenty-two years. She lost a kingdom, regained it, amassed an empire, and lost it all. A goddess as a child, a queen at eighteen, she was an object of speculation and veneration, a myth in her own time. At the height of her power she controlled virtually the entire eastern Mediterranean coast, the last great kingdom of any Egyptian ruler, and for a brief moment she held the fate of the Western world in her hands. She died – spectacularly and sensationally – at the age of thirty-nine, a generation before the birth of Christ. Shakespeare spoke of her infinite variety.

He had no idea.

And yet the enduring image of Cleopatra conjures two thousand years later is one of a sexy seductress. A bedeviling Egyptian siren who lured the two most powerful men of her time into her bed. (Julius Ceasar, and later his protégé Marc Antony) It doesn’t help that the burning image of Cleopatra was last provided by one of the most beautiful women of the 20th Century, Elizabeth Taylor, in the 1965 film.

But so what? Who cares about an Egyptian Queen? And why is Cleopatra still relevant, all these years later?

Considering that plays and poems and volumes have been written about her, one of the most powerful and fascinating people in history, it’s impossible to cover a fingernail’s worth of the complexity of her story. There are occasions, however, when even a quick overview like this can be helpful.

***

Historically women have been viewed in two ways.

Madonna. (Virgin, the Mother) Or Whore. (Seductress, Siren)

These are, generally speaking, not only the historical definitions of women, but the way we still tend to categorize them. A woman is either a “slut” or “really nice” and “motherly”. Interestingly, most people don’t realize that the gender division in Western culture was largely fostered by the Romans (especially during the Republic), who had very clear ideas about men and women and their roles in culture.

Julius Ceasar was certainly one of those men. When he arrived in Alexandria in 48 BCE, he did not expect to be captivated by an eighteen year old queen who was forced to sneak into her own house to avoid her brother and his army. He’d just defeated his rival, the great general Pompei, and hoped to settle Egypt along with collecting the massive debt Cleopatra’s father had racked up in buying off the inevitable Roman advance. But Cleopatra wasn’t just another queen, even for the most powerful and accomplished genius that was Ceasar. No, this teenager was the direct descendant of Alexander the Great, a Macedonian Greek (she was not Egyptian) and product of generations of the Ptolemic Empire. She spoke nine languages. She was well versed in military affairs. Even in a time when women rulers were no rarity, she stood out. (Cleopatra was the only female to eventually rule alone and play a role in Western affairs.) She was a charismatic speaker and the first Ptolemy to learn the language of the people she ruled. And yet she is remembered as a seductress, though little is said of her beauty, little enough to presume that she would have been somewhat “plain”.

And yet, Ceasar was so fascinated, he not only stayed in Alexandria, he very nearly became trapped when the Alexandrians fought back, upset over the presence of a Roman General who seemed to believe that Egypt was subject to Rome. And yet, months after the Civil War had ended that year, Ceasar stayed. And there’s little doubt that he stayed because of Cleopatra and shared her bed.

That harlot.

At least, that’s how she was considered by Roman historians like Plutarch. I suppose that you could make a case she was only protecting her kingdom, that Ceasar was purely a political conquest and she needed a powerful ally if she was going to keep Egypt independent. You could also consider those who wished her dead (which in the tradition of the highly interbred Ptolemies, meant family members regularly murdered on another) and suggest that she had no other choice.

Or, you could suggest that it was Ceasar who seduced the young queen. (Quick quiz: did you even consider that when you were reading the above paragrpah?) No ancient historian made that case, however, it was never even considered. I find that disturbing and ironic. As great as Cleopatra was to become, Ceasar was one of the most brilliant and powerful rulers in history. A handsome and striking womanizer who we recognize as one of the few humans to change the course of the world. Unlike Ceasar, who relied on brains and wit and courage to conquer much of the known world, Cleopatra apparently used her father’s riches and sex (or feminine “wiles”, whatever the hell that is) and has worn the mantle of seductress for over two thousand years. When we discuss Cleopatra, ultimately the discussion revolves around her looks, ironically the most opaque part of what is known about her. We can’t imagine a woman using something OTHER than sex to conquer as a ruler.

When Cleopatra later coupled with Marc Antony, years after Ceasar had been assassinated, Roman officers still couldn’t fathom the presence of a woman, even one as accomplished and powerful as Cleopatra, when it came to military matters. They would complain to Antony about her presence in the command tents. And this, even in the face of overwhelming evidence of her ability.

The irony, sad as it is, is that Rome’s legacy (Western Culture), still divides its culture by gender two thousand years later.

Here it is, 2012, millennia removed from one of the greatest leaders in history and we are still wondering when women will learn their place. We still have leaders and people who doubt the ability of a woman to rule. Most of the major religions have little time for women in leadership, with only some exceptions. Christians continued the Roman tradition of the Republic and later the Empire regarding its view of women. And Islam, an offshoot of Judaism and Christianity, continued the tradition as well. What’s inexcusable is how little our so-called religious leaders know their history.

This past week, I was flipping through a book in the religion section of the bookstore, a “Christian manual” for women published in 2011. The two male authours “explained” that girls were supposed to be soft and feminine, and men were designed to be strong. It offered “proof” of this by noting how little girls preferred to “twirl” in front of the mirror, while little boys flexed their muscles.

I wonder what Cleopatra did in front of the mirror as a child. Or perhaps, and I’m just spitballing here, IT DOESN’T F****** MATTER.

It amazes me that such nonsense still dominates our culture, that so many men still feel threatened by the idea of equality. That people dare still use words like “headship” based on gender without understanding that it’s a Roman tradition, not a religious one. Many Christians defend such terms as “biblical”, when in fact they aren’t biblical at all, they’re ideas from the Roman Republic centuries earlier. (Pater familias)

How sad and ironic that two thousand years ago one of the most brilliant and accomplished people in history faced the same question many women face today. She did, however, leave us a legacy we should not soon forget. A continual reminder that dividing people by gender, in regards to positions and ability and tendencies, is completely ignorant. The other legacy Cleopatra’s story reveals is that the prejudice we find today in religious “manuals” was found in the officers’ barracks two thousand years ago. Now that'd be one legacy we’d do well to change.

-Steve

NOTE: Grateful to Pulitzer Prize winning author Stacy Schiff for her book Cleopatra: A Life. (And some of her notes in her introduction, which I borrowed for the beginning two paragraphs of this post) A wonderfully well-written biography, and the best of the ones I’ve read regarding Cleopatra. )I highly recommend it.)

NOTE II: Ancient Egypt had some of the most egalitarian laws in history. Women had nearly as many rights as men, and they were known for their advancement and culture and education. Following Cleopatra’s death, however, those rights slowly eroded, and when Islam eventually became the religion of the land those rights disappeared altogether. This was clearly in evidence in 2011 during the riots in Egypt, when Egyptian men were caught on video screaming at the protesting women to go back into the kitchen and mind the house, something an ancient Roman would have said.

Sex, Gay Marriage and a Culture of Vitriol

The cashier frowned as he took the cash from the man standing in front of me. It wasn't an obvious frown, merely the downward wrinkle of lips and gathering of skin between the eyebrows, as if he was thinking about something important. Unless you had seen it before, or you were looking for it, it was difficult to spot. I was standing next in line, waiting for my turn to pay for gas, so it wasn't hard to miss. The gas stop was painted a bright red and white, as if to counter the gloom of another rainy night. The smattering of conversation from a couple of girls buying snacks drifted up towards the front. The man in front of me however, didn't seem to notice the slight as he accepted his change with a smile. He was wearing a dark sports coat and gray slacks with a white button down shirt. Well dressed, but nothing out of the ordinary. But his movements just felt wrong. Too fluid. Too much wrist. As if he was dancing while standing still. He was about my height, but lean and smooth shaven. He said good night, and the cashier whistled silently through his teeth, watching him for an extra second as the man glided out into the rain.

I bit my lip and frowned at the cashier, a burly man in his early forties, but he didn't notice and brightened considerably when he saw me.

"Another rainy night, eh?" He said, taking my money.

"Another rainy night." I repeated, my voice flat.

I wanted to say something more, but what could I say? Hey, Mr. Uneducated Jerkoff, I saw how looked at that guy because you thought he was gay? Instead, I was left to fume at the obvious bigotry, and headed out into the rain without saying another word.

Rain teased down the windshield, blurring the lights into a miasma of yellows and greens and reds. It was still warm enough to leave my window open, and I drove slowly through the streets, listening to the patter on my roof and the squish of tires, enveloped by the silence that always seemed to follow the rain. I had a hard time getting the incident at the gas bar out of my head. The cashier was probably a conservative, I thought. Probably a Christian, too, since there weren't a whole lot of white Muslims here. The more I thought about it, the angrier I became. How could someone be so prejudiced? Hadn't he read the papers lately, heard anything at all about the rash of gay suicides by teenagers down in the States? Who was he to judge someone like that?

By the time I pulled into the underground parking lot, I was so angry that I nearly drove into one of the columns before finally bringing my car to a screeching halt. I had to write about this… do something. For a writer, turning thoughts into words on a page is largely how we deal with things, but it doesn't necessarily mean we deal with them correctly. This however, was something else. I was tired of the prejudice, misogyny and bigotry so evident in our society. Why couldn't people see it? I didn't know the cashier, but I'd seen his type before. White, of course, and male. Probably loved Glenn Beck and wondered why the world didn't look like 1950. Probably watched Mad Men and wished things could go back to the way they were. (Missing the entire point of the show) That women and minorities had few rights sixty years ago probably affected him not at all. By the time I was sitting in my spot on the balcony, I was ready to chew nails. For the next four days I pounded out two thousand words on a fictional white male who tries his hand at both the Tea Party and Homosexuality before realizing that he might have made a misjudgement. I let Bethany read it, and she gave it back with a few suggestions. (She's a great editor) There was something about it however, that I didn't like. I knew a few liberal magazines that might be interested, but I had this feeling that I was missing something. Something important.

You have to understand that I am not a classically trained writer. I did not major in English or do an MFA. Most of my formal education, though not all, is theological. Whatever you see here (and hopefully you find it stimulating) is the result of fifteen years or so of reading How-To books and sitting at the Desk, pounding things out. As a rule, I write by feel, not unlike a musician who plays by ear. (There are more effective ways to write, and I do wish sometimes that I had more formal training, but it has always been such, and I've learned to live with the results.) I put my ear to the winds blowing in both my heart and mind, to the phrases that stick and those that stick out, to the order of thought and clarity of presentation, and try to listen. More importantly, I listen for the tone of the writing itself. Tone is important, because once you're comfortable in your own voice, the first step for any writer, the tone is more than just another tool. It is the music behind the lyrics. More than that it a reflection of self, it is a vivid mirror that reveals a great deal about where you are along the road to discovery.

And so, as I looked at my article a few days later, I realized what was wrong. I was ashamed of what I'd written, and spent some time in prayer to do some soul searching with God. Why? Well, we must go back a ways to understand…

2002

"If we let gays marry, what's next? Polygamy? It's a slippery slope once we go down that road." I said.

I was sitting at the Starbucks after another long week at the school. Jim sat across from me, playing with the lid of his cup.

"I don't know, Steve. Seems kind of… wrong. I don't like dudes, but what if I did? Seems kind of crappy that they can't get married and be unhappy like the rest of us." He said, smiling.

"Bah. It's a lifestyle. A choice. Marriage is a sacred institution."

I felt good saying that. After two years of separation my wife and I had put everything back together. Things weren't great, but marriage was sacred. A covenant. A vow to God. And if it wasn't great, so what? You just had to work harder. I certainly wasn't going to let people who chose to have sex with the same gender up and change our society with their liberal views. Hell, if we made gay marriage legal what would be next? Brothels? Men with six wives? Animal lovers? Why couldn't people see just how dangerous it was?

Jim didn't say anything, just played with his cup.

"How are things at home?"

"All right." I said. "Well not great but we got a lot of issues. We'll figure it out. We have to."

2004

The pub was packed. We were near the front though, so it was quiet enough to talk. I sipped my beer, and Duane plopped down beside me. He was a relatively new friend, a friend of a friend, and we'd been hanging out throughout the summer. The divorce had gone through the past winter, and I found myself out more often than ever. I guess it was to be expected. Being alone was not a lot of fun, and while the pain of the divorce had slowly receded, my life had changed drastically. For now, I was happy to be out and have a few drinks and forget about the past two years.

"I have a question for you, Steve." Duane said.

"Shoot."

"You're religious, right?"

I nodded cautiously. Less so than in the past, I thought, and yet in some ways, it meant more to me now. Most of my friends weren't Christians, but it wasn't an issue. If anything, we'd had a lot of great conversations about faith and spirituality and what it all meant. Or what it might mean. In some ways, it was a role, and one I didn't mind. I liked talking about God. I certainly had never been shy about it.

"Do you think God would love a gay man if he got married?"

I nearly choked on my beer, but managed to smooth my features in time. Barely. Duane was well dressed, as always, with an open collared shirt and black jeans. His hair was long and wavy, and though his smile suggested this was just another one of our 'religious' discussions, I knew there was weight to the question. The thing is, we all knew Duane was gay. He hadn't admitted it to his friends, but it was fairly obvious. He'd never had a girlfriend and showed no interest in girls whatsoever.

"Well, the Bible is pretty clear about sex outside of marriage. And so-"

"I know, but what if they were married?"

"Um, I don't know, Duane. I mean, marriage is between a man and a woman. It's always been that way. And the Bible…" I stopped and looked at him. Watched his fingers curl around the glass of his beer. Noticed the flex across his jawline. "It doesn't mean God doesn't love you. I'm not sure it's right, but God always loves you."

My answer sounded lame even to myself. It wasn't right, I thought. For a moment, I allowed myself to walk in Duane's shoes. What would it have been like to spend all those years growing up and NOT being interested in girls? Especially when your classmates and friends were talking and joking about them. Girl watch and social status are the two highest priorities for a straight adolescent boy. As awkward as that was, what would it have been like to be attracted only to boys, the same ones who were asking you about girls? And then there were parents and family expectations. Long dinners and reunions answering questions about when 'you were going to bring someone home'. And then, of course, was the inevitable bullying that occurred if the other males caught a whiff of your sexuality.

I wanted to say something more, but what? When I finally looked up however, Duane had drifted over to another group of friends. When I went home that night, I thought long and hard about his question. I was determined to give him a better answer the next time.

It never came.

2010

People always tell us that sex sells, to the point where it has become a truism of our society. Perhaps fifty years from now we'll discover that it doesn't sell nearly as well as we think it does, and something else will take its place. There is however, something that sells even more readily than sex, especially within an increasingly diverse, postmodern population. Advertisers use it. Writers and talk show hosts use it. Churches use it too. Even more than sex, surety is the greatest force of all. With all the choices now available to us, either through the market place or the information highway, nothing sells like surety. This is the paradox of choice; that given too many options we are mostly apt to freeze. We want someone to tell us what to do, what's best how we should think. We want our choices narrowed so that we don't have to think about everything. In some ways, it not only makes sense, but it's a legitimate response. (Whether it's lifestyle or business or our choice of movies, there is simply too much out there to know everything.) And the ones who take advantage of that vulnerability can reap the greatest rewards.

How else can we explain the counter movement of fundamentalism cutting a wide swath through our cultural landscape? I'm not talking simply about religious fundamentalism, but the entrenched black and white thinking that dominates politics as well. We so desperately want to be assured that we are either right or wrong, that we have created a polarized culture that has become increasingly judgmental and filled with vitriol. Just go to any article on the internet. Listen to the radio and you'll hear it.

Hate mongering is on the rise. Instead of being more understanding about sexuality, despite what we've learned, hate crimes and bullying, and consequently, gay suicide, are on the rise. Despite all we've learned about gender and equality, there is a boorishness in young males who can find any number of books to wallow in their destructive stereotypes regarding women. And yet, the source of this vitriol has skipped no one, not even the ones who count themselves to be enlightened and tolerant. People who question religion and tend to think of themselves as better than others because their worldview is more understanding.

Yes, people like me.

Self-righteousness and arrogance are two sides of the same coin. And wherever they are present they inevitably infect whoever else is there. Self-righteousness tells me that I am right most of the time. It gives me special status and allows me to look down at others, because I have somehow advanced myself more than the other humans with whom I share this planet. Self-righteousness is a creeping disease because it knows no boundaries, and cannot be stopped by any single belief or system of beliefs. You may think that you are more loving and tolerant and wise because of your religion, or because you reject religion, or because of your politics, but that is merely the voice of self-righteousness speaking through you.

It is one thing to believe that you are right. It is another to know it. One requires faith and humility. The other asks you for nothing. Self-righteousness does not need you to feed it, it merely needs you to ignore it. To brush aside questions about your own mortality and beliefs and accept your own convictions. I have sometimes wondered how it is that people can be so wealthy, and yet so nasty, so dismissive of others. But if we never question our own ideas, or at least entertain them with humility, why would we be considerate of those we consider less than ourselves.

Ultimately, self-righteousness is about status, and our hunger and desire for it. So long as we believe that all humans are NOT created equal, it will continue to grow and fester, and as it does, continue to spread its vitriol throughout our culture.

…The balcony was still a bit damp, but the wind had pushed away the clouds, and the stars glimmered in the night sky. Beads of rain water clung to the railing like a row of unlit lights. In the distance, the blue lit CN tower nestled in along the other lights of the city. I didn't like admitting what I'd written or the way that I'd written it. It was akin to saying that I'd been a jerk. That I hadn't published it or sent it out didn't matter. That I supported gay marriage, or worried over the increase in bullying and taunting in light of the gay suicides this past year, were important and weren't going to change. However, thinking that I was better than people who did not agree with me was unacceptable. Had I not thought the same things myself? Had I not been wrong in the past about my convictions? Where was my humility?

The white light of my laptop seemed unnatural somehow, as I watched the beads along the railing shimmer in the wind. Some days it was hard to be human. More than that, it was difficult to continually admit that I was fallible and often wrong about how I considered the world. It was so easy to get drawn towards self-righteousness, so easy to sneer at others through either my words or my actions. I could pray that I would get better, that I would remember we were all just trying to figure out this thing called life. In the meantime, I asked God to forgive me as I clicked off my computer. Tomorrow was another day. Another day to remember what I'd discovered and respond accordingly. Perfection wasn't attainable, but with God's help, a bit more grace and a little more understanding could go a long way.

-Steve

Update: TV Review, Shame & Novel Reboot

I suppose in writing about the relationship between sex and religion and porn, I overestimated the response. I assumed I would be awash in comments. In some ways, it was a good reminder of just how effectively we have bathed our sexuality in a culture of shame. The truth is that even for those who have grown and shared the experiences mentioned in my article, offering an opinion on religion and porn means exposure and vulnerability of a kind that most people are not willing to risk. The reason for that is that is simple. We've learned what happens when we open ourselves up, especially when it comes to ideas about sexuality. Faith should not be about perfection or the pursuit of perfection, but the shared journey of fallible individuals working together to understand what life is and what it means. The "Christian" publishing industry certainly doesn't help. As a young writer, I was informed by the Christian publishing houses, the ones to whom I was sending my work, that there was to be no sex in the novel unless the characters were married. The beliefs of the characters did not matter. I still remember questioning one of the editors, who merely shrugged and said the publishing houses were worried about the sixty five year old Christian lady walking into a Christian bookstore and discovering 'sex' in one of the books. I struggled with her answer. I remember asking her if she was comfortable with the fact that basically, Christian writers would be held back from writing real characters, from writing something real, because of one person?

I ended up writing a novel called Ravin, about a stripper who is abducted by the leader of Venezuelan cult, and whose only chance for survival lies with her sister, a snobbish lawyer with whom she hasn't spoken in five years. A number of the editors liked it, but they had no idea where to put it on the shelf. It was my last attempt at "Christian" fiction, a real learning experience regarding the shame that sex still holds in religion. Unless you want to publish a book about the merits of abstinence, you're certainly not going to find anything helpful about sex on the shelves of religious bookstores. Their inventory is driven by the single, unhappy, self-righteous customer. And since they don't do enough business to ignore the loudmouths, they have the last word over the needs and wants of the majority.

Speaking of which, the same is true in many churches across the continent. I've seen it so many times that it has become cliché. One small contingent of highly self policed, egocentric moralists, controlling large populations within a religious community. This is not unlike high school, where the popular clique is usually the one that is the hardest to please and have the most money. For a church to function properly, these groups must be smashed. A strong pastor can do it. Most of the time however, it requires the strength and guts of the congregation to ignore these willful power mongers whose goals lie outside faith and are only concerned with power. What we need are more people willing to speak about their experiences, including their sexual ones, and face down the moralists who think shame is somehow related to following Jesus. Do not let others dictate your guilt. Normally, the power mongers have the advantage because they are less concerned with being fair and more interested in retaining power. Just remember, these people are found in every organization in the world. They are not particular to religion, but are attracted there by the possibility of power and control. The more we learn to stand up to them, the more we'll be able to grow the types of communities that not only make a difference in our lives, but in the lives of those around us.

***

I didn't want to do an entire review on it, seeing as how I'll be doing a movie review in the next couple of days, but last night we(Bethany and I) watched the first installment of an 8 part mini-series last night for The Pillars of the Earth. This has long been one of my favourite novels, and the mini-series adaptation (at least the first part) was excellent. The production is well done and the cast is terrific. The Pillars of the Earth was the result of a decade long study of castles and cathedrals by author Ken Follett. It details the story of a faithful monk who desires to build a cathedral to God's glory, and the mason who feels the same calling. Majestically written, it is a wonderfully told and tremendously uplifting. It seems as if the mini-series is doing it justice.

***

I was listening to one of Brandon Sanderson's writing podcasts last week, and he was discussing what to do with a story when you have to revamp it. I enjoy the Sanderson podcasts, as he writes Epic Fantasy, the genre I am currently attempting to break through in. At any rate, he mentioned that sometimes it helps to start by writing the ending when you're stuck, so that's what I'm going to do tomorrow, as I've been stuck on 130,000 words for the past three weeks. Wish me luck.

The new movie review will be up in a couple of days. As always, feel free to comment or write.

Blessings

Steve

Sex: What Religion and Pornographers Don’t Want You to Know

Kyle stood numbly in front of the church leadership. He was a big, sprawling redhead who always had a smile for people, and when he led the worship portion of the service, did so with sincerity and reverence. Today however, his face was glum. I sighed and looked over at the men and women in leadership. There was some sympathy in the younger set, but the deacons, the ones who comprised the lay leadership and handled the church finances, did not look happy. Brad – the church treasurer – looked at the others before finally breaking the silence.

"We accept your apology, Kyle. But you'll have to step down from leadership. We can't be having immorality in our leadership, and while I know you love Sarah, you aren't married yet."

Kyle nodded, his face red. Someone in the church had caught wind that his relationship with his long time girlfriend had become sexual and reported it to my senior pastor, who'd then gone to Kyle with it. Kyle had confessed that they were having sex, and Pastor Hall had told him that he'd have to apologize to the leadership of the church, and that they would go from there. I'd tried to excuse myself from the meeting, but Pastor Hall had been adamant that ALL of the leadership needed to be there, including the youth pastor.

"Is there anything else, Kyle?" Brad said.

"Um, no, sir." His words tumbled out in a half slur, a stark contrast from his singing voice, which was strong and clear. "I'm really sorry about this. I love Sarah, but we sinned. I love God so much…"

Pastor Hall stood up. He was short and stout, and his white hair was thicker than mine, although he was well into his sixties.

"Thank you Kyle. We know that wasn't easy. We'll give you our decision later this week."

Kyle mumbled something under his breath and walked out. I followed him to the parking lot a few minutes later after a word with my boss, but he was already gone. I knew what the Bible said about leadership and expectations, but the whole experience felt dirty to me. At least the leadership wouldn't gossip about it, I knew that much. My church was small, about a hundred and fifty people, but when it came to things like this, there would be no discussion with other members. Pastor Hall wouldn't tolerate it. Still, it didn't change what had happened, or the fact that I felt like I'd bathed in dirty water. And it wasn't Kyle's sex life that had me feeling like a creep.

***

Growing up in a small town in a conservative home meant information about sex was not forthcoming. Rumours and whispers after school when I was young, chatter in the locker room and at parties as I got older. I was still a virgin when I became a youth pastor, and I still knew relatively little about sex. That made it tough, because as a youth pastor, the one thing teenagers (well, all of us) are especially interested in, is sex. What I did know was that it was wrong. Sinful. A crime against your body. Unless you were married, of course, at which point it underwent a startling transformation to something amazing and wonderful and a special sign of your love for your spouse. That's what I knew, so that's what I taught. The internet was in infancy back then and pornography still required a visit to the video store or the magazine rack, but there were nights when I caught glimpses on flickering, blocked cable stations. It was sin, that much I knew, but there was something exciting about probing the darkness around a topic that was completely not only muted in the religious circles I travelled in, but a topic I knew so little about.

It wasn't until I'd left the ministry that porn became more interesting to me. That coincided with its availability as the internet blossomed. Even when I became engaged, I found porn to be more and more enticing. I was twenty four, and what I knew about sex could be summed up in two sentences. Sex outside of marriage was sin. Sex was great. That was the sum total of my knowledge, which, looking back, is mildly terrifying in that I was teaching others about it. I railed against pornography, and joined in condemning it with my Christian friends, while secretly watching it on occasion. Unfortunately, I never learned anything new about sex. All porn did was reinforce what the Christian books said about sex being guilt inducing and sinful. I felt dirty every time I looked at it.

What no one had prepared me for, however, was the marital transformation, the point where sex stopped being sinful and suddenly became wonderful. Despite the sudden "freedom", and the fact I engaged all the "Christian" jokes with my friends about being a "do-er of the Word", sex was never great. It wasn't even good. Mostly, it caused problems. I couldn't figure out what was wrong with me. I read a number of 'Christian' books on the subject, but they were no help at all. Mostly they parroted one another and kept sexuality in a guilt laden frame. It would be a number of years before I learned that what I thought I knew about sex was either a myth, or misinformation used to control me. And even then, I rejected it, because the human tendency is to hold to our illusions, even when they're destructive.

What I never expected however, was to be confronted with the truth that most religions (Christianity, Mormonism, Islam) view sex the same way pornography does.

***

Religion and pornography have seemingly always been at odds with one another, ever since the advent of photography and later film turned porn into an industry. (For the purposes of brevity, we'll skip the naked drawings and sculptures that have marked all civilizations of recorded history, along with the growth of pornography as technology has made it more available.) The two have always been seen as enemies, with religions uniting in the fight against pornography, their members leading the charge in cities and states to have it banned. And yet, the relationship between the two is not what it seems. Just as most people mistake love and hate as being opposites, with the true opposite of love being apathy, religion and porn are not opponents. They are, in fact, step-children of the same parents, children who squabble and make a lot of noise in public, but fall asleep at night in the same bedroom.

Religion perceives pornography as sin. An abomination. A dark evil. Most of that has to do with lust, the idea that any 'lust' outside of your marriage partner is sin. According to most religions, watching other people having sex and being excited by it is not only sinful and wrong, it's gross. Why would anyone watch that? They must be perverted.

Pornography perceives religion to be upheld by a bunch of uptight jerks that are self-righteous and deny their own humanity. Sex is not only good in marriage, but all the time. Isn't that what freedom is for, and clearly, sex feels good. So why not experience it as often as you can? Besides, watching porn is not the same as having sex with someone else. Why not celebrate the human body and watch other hot bodies go at it? What's the harm?

There would seem to be no middle ground between the two, except that both religion and pornography endorse a shallow and immature view of sex. Pornography is senses based, and so promotes that aspect of sex. With a nod to the fact it does feel good (sin feels good), religion considers only the spiritual aspect of sex, is it sin or not. The end result is that most people have no understanding of the deep complexity of sex, and the joy that comes from an intimacy based approach, one that is freeing without being moralizing. Because our need for sex is so powerful, both religion and pornography use it to advance their own ends. Pornography to make money. Religion to control its adherents. Understand that when I say religion, there are no doubt clerics out there who do their best to promote a more complete view of sex. But religion, by its very definition, is incapable of nuance.

But the most disturbing aspect of this is how the two shallow views of sex actually promote one another. That is to say, the more religious people talk about the evils of sex outside of marriage and how degrading porn is, they more they serve to add to porn's growing audience. The reason for that is not only the tendency of people to explore "darkness", but the sense of freedom in pornography when it comes to sexuality. For those raised in a culture of sexual shame, pornography presents sex as a celebration of something innately human. Unfortunately, porn is not actually about freedom. All it does is objectify an incredible gift and turn it into a pretty package so you will spend more money. Even more damaging is the implication within porn is that sex is merely a physical act. Watch enough porn and it dominates how you look at people, and how you measure them. Suddenly, people become commodities, and most of the time that means women. But when a religion argues that it has stood against porn for exactly that reason, they're lying through their teeth. For example, if Catholicism was interested in a mature, positive view of sex, it never would have banned contraceptives. As it is, it practically promotes pornography as the only alternative to a very human need.

We may not like it, but the truth is that religion funds pornography. Religion uses sex to sell its ideas of morality and porn uses religion to sell its false sentiments about sexual freedom.

Instead of hating porn, religious people should be dismissing it as we do childish views about the world, and looking to the positives that we can find in an intimate, emotionally connected relationship.

That isn't to say that porn is not destructive. Of course it is. And no matter what or who you read, there is little evidence to support the idea that porn is helpful. However, the market for it continues to grow, which means that it is filling a need. It's just not filling that need in a positive manner.

***

Porn is an addiction. That's what we've been told by psychologists and experts, and there's a growing list of textbooks and articles that deal with it. Unfortunately, the addiction label isn't very helpful in that it, once again, frames an immature sexuality within a negative frame. It certainly doesn't point us towards a healthy sexuality. Instead, it has become simply another item to add to the growing list of things people are 'addicted' to. A sampling of other addictions could include television, sugar, coffee, nicotine, sex, football, alcohol, marijuana, working out, candy, movies, Starbucks, work, fashion, cars, dating, computers, Facebook, food, and religion. There is not enough space here to debate our tendency to rank addictions, some of which are considered very bad (drugs, alcohol, porn) and some which are considered mild. (caffeine, candy) But we miss the point in that addictions are nothing more than ritually repeated behaviours which we use to help us deal with certain issues we have either not addressed or do not understand. That is, addictions are ALWAYS symptomatic of something else, and while they can reveal the destructive nature of people (think drunk man on a rampage) the problem is not with the thing which holds us, but the emotional and spiritual structure within the individual who manifests the symptoms. Professional, unbiased counseling often helps when it comes to addictions (we still have to be open to what we hear), so much as it helps us learn more about ourselves and teaches us new and healthier ways to deal with our issues. That's why religion is often ineffective when it comes to addictions, because it simply paints behaviours as sin but refuses to address the real issue. (There are a number of enlightened churches that reference professional counselors, and they should be commended for that.)

When it comes to pornography however, we do not regard it as we do other addictions. Within Christianity (as with most religions), pornography is simply evil, with no further explanations offered. Men and women who watch porn are perverts and sinners. And yet, in religious circles, the extreme levels of disgust directed towards pornography are completely inappropriate, and yet consistent with our fascination with "sexual sin." In biblical tradition, the most galling sin is pride. But you don't see people marching to remove pride from their town. You don't see lectures and townhall meetings and conferences to serve the need for more humility. You don't see religions uniting to talk about the need for humanity to be honest about their faults and admit them to the Creator.

Instead, religion commodifies sex in the form of negative advertising and sells its message to promote its own ideas about morality. It uses the mystery and power of sex for self-promotion in the same manner that pornography does, and in so doing, ignores the crying need in the populace for a better model of what sex is and what it can be. In short, it sells its soul for more adherents and more power.

***

Religion has created an aura of shame around our sexuality. Within Islam, that view is reflected in the treatment of women as sexual tempters and lesser citizens. Within Christianity, we can effectively date much of our current "shameful" view of the body back to Augustine and the predominant Greek influence of sinful flesh and the purity of the soul, a duality that did not exist within Judaism until after the first century.

When I think back over my life these past twenty five years, since the time of my first embarrassing erection, my ideas about sex have been largely guilt inducing. No freedom. No gratitude towards God for giving us such a powerful gift. In that way, as with many people I have counseled and spoken with through the years, both in and out of church, sex has been both the seed and seat of true dysfunction and a great deal of pain.

That isn't to say that I have it all figured out, because I do not. I have learned some things however, like the understanding that there is a difference between our genital prime, which happens at a relatively young age, and our sexual prime, which doesn't happen until late into our forties and early fifties. All of this impacts our view not only of life, but the foundations on which we build our relationships. Sad to say, neither religion nor porn do much to help, and in fact, have evolved into a destructive tandem that is not interested in what is best for us, and works actively to keep us in our sexually built hovels of ignorance. We may not like it, but sometimes the thing our religion wants and what God has for us are not the same. And that framing our sexuality in a culture of evil only serves our maddening tradition of defining ourselves only by what we are against.

Do you believe God wants the best for you? Do you believe God wants you to be in a healthy relationship? Do you believe that God, who created you, finds sexuality dirty and shameful? No. Neither do I. How about we move together then, towards a healthier sexuality and remove the stigma of shame from our discussions. Perhaps then we will no longer see the need to embarrass people in the name of our God, and in so doing, embarrass ourselves.

-Steve

Authour's Note: I highly recommend Passionate Marriage by David Schnarch. For many people, including myself, it's been a life changing book.

Authour's Note II: As always, names and places are changed in my examples to protect the privacy of people.

Finding Mr./Mrs Right: Final Thoughts

It had been a hot summer, and today was no different. I could feel the sweat sliding down my stomach as I walked, heading south along Yonge street towards my client's condo. The huge buildings seemed to cradle the heat in the mass of concrete and steel, but a cool breeze that somehow managed to sweep past the man made towers helped make the walk bearable. My sunglasses had snapped apart a day earlier, forcing me to squint at the people traveling the sidewalks and the ones relaxing on the various patios that lined the street.

The past three days had been interesting, if not exhausting, as I'd waded through the large and emotional reaction my last article had generated. I'd thought it blunt, to be sure, but the anger had been visceral. Triggering an emotional response was usually a good thing for a writer, as it usually meant that you'd managed to engage your readers, but this time I wasn't sure. Twenty five hundred words was not enough space to include everything (you really needed something book length) about a topic like finding a partner. It had been written as a guide for singles, but I found a great deal of the responses coming from married and divorced women with children. I still wasn't sure what to do with that.

Up ahead, I noticed a couple of university age girls crossing the street. They were both slim, with long dark hair. The one on the left was wearing pink booty shorts cut so high that there wasn't much left to the imagination. Her t-shirt was rolled up and pulled tight. Her friend was wearing white corduroy shorts, also rolled up into her cheeks, and a black, low cut shirt with a V-neck scoop that almost went to her navel. They were laughing as they walked, seemingly oblivious to people around them. They passed through the Starbucks patio on the corner, walking between the packed tables. I watched the men as the girls strolled past, and without exception they all looked (one of the guys was not so subtle and simply stared at them) at the girls. Everyone noticed them, I thought. Like they were merchants with goods. Or female versions of Matthew McConaughey. I thought too about my article, and how many women found a man's analysis always tinged with either boorishness ("Oooh… those young women… soooo hot!")or disingenuous protestations that they preferred modesty ("I saw them, but I was disgusted. They should cover up.") I figured they were probably right. And since I'd mentioned in my article that my wife was a very fit size 2, a number of the people who'd read it had taken offense to my seemingly shallow capitulation. (Steve must be the boorish one!)

The idea of someone being fit as being more attractive to the opposite sex is not exactly a breakthrough in thermonuclear physics. However, getting fit solely to attract a partner isn't healthy. When I was a young Fundamentalist zealot, I would have looked at those girls, enjoyed the view, and then buried those feelings in dark, self-righteous comments about how "women should be modest" and "women shouldn't act so sleazy." As some of you who have read the comments from the previous article would know, back then I was hyper about my girlfriend being fit (who did the right thing by um, releasing me, and marrying a great guy who had the guy-girl thing better figured than I did at the time), and also about controlling what she wore. And that, I think, is one of the dark sides of not only the fitness industry, but culturally as well. When we (read:men) regard our partners as sex objects designed for our fulfillment.

Fitness should be used primarily as a tool to lift up someone's sense of well being. Unfortunately, under the dishonest gaze of most religions, fitness and sexuality are inevitably linked, and it's always destructive. Some cultures require women to wear a robe (e.g. a burka) that covers their entire body, or states that a woman can not, for example, swim with men. The woman is akin to the serpent. She is the temptation. Men are pure, but are tempted by women, who CAUSE them to sin. This is patriarchal garbage, on any level, and I refuse to accept as valid any religion or culture who so demeans half of humanity. Women should wear what they want. So should men. And as soon as we say, well, "she was advertising sex" we might as well drape a robe over her body. We are just as guilty as those in the Kingdom (Saudi Arabia) and or other places around the world that refuse to acknowledge basic human rights. That said, while fitness is needed to attract people of the opposite sex, it cannot be the primary tool of attraction. As soon as a woman has to, essentially, sell her body to find a partner, she ends up in a relationship that promises to be one sided.

Elizabeth Eaves, a journalist and former stripper, documented in her memoir, Bare, that she learned at a very early age that she could control men's reactions by what she wore. Loose baggy clothes when she wanted to be unseen. Tighter clothes and more skin if she wanted or needed to be noticed. However, she could never trust men because she felt like they were simply responding to her sexuality. (That she worked as a stripper only heightened that revelation.) Being fit is not solely about sexuality. It plays a role, because biologically, the more muscle you have the more testosterone your body produces. (And yes, that's true in both men and women) But sexuality is, in my mind, a minor role, although fitness magazines use it FAR too often to sell their products.

Being fit is about being whole, about not separating our 'flesh' from our 'soul'. Who we are on the inside is partly reflected by what others see, and partly by what they hear. And when fitness is directed towards ourselves, towards who we are and who we want to be, it is healthy and attractive. When it is directed outwardly, it becomes a product, something we sell or use to acquire things, and it becomes unhealthy.

It is a difficult line to walk, but I refuse to back down from this idea that to celebrate fitness is to celebrate boorishness or sleaziness. We may not like the fact that our fitness level matters to people of the opposite sex, but it does, and whether that is evolutionary or cultural should make no difference, because that's not what a healthy idea of fitness represents anyway. Just remember that taking care of what we look like is still about us, about figuring out who we are and what we want, and about honouring what God has blessed us with. How we do that is up to us, and while others will see the difference, I think you'll find that the biggest change will not be in how you look or in how others perceive you, but how you feel about yourself. Single or not, that's something we should all be working towards.

-Steve

AUTHOUR'S NOTE: I hadn't intended on writing a follow up to the past article, but felt the response somewhat demanded some clarification. I am working on the next 'original' article, The One Myth that will Destroy Your Relationship. Hopefully I'll have it up in a couple of days. Thanks everyone.

Sex, Dating, and Ignorance

28 days: Day 7

NOVEL WORD COUNT: 112, 730

Have you ever wondered why so many fantasy characters know very little about sex? I'm talking about Epic fantasists now, like Tolkien and Jordan and Goodkind. (George R Martin writes high fantasy, a different genre that is far more 'realism' oriented) I mean, the main characters are either idiots when it comes to the opposite sex, or not that interested. (Tolkien) In our culture, it seems gratuitous perhaps to have teenage characters who bumble around with these crazy notions of romance like those mythologized in the 1950's, when everything was supposedly innocent. The 'innocence' of the 1950's is a myth, of course, but Epic fantasy writers are not interested in creating realism, but rather showcasing the time in our lives when we are ignorant of sex, and when our notions of it are silly, idealistic and occasionally, romantic. The time right around puberty when we experience all of the things that characterize early adolescence.

Epic fantasies, at least most of them, are working within the parameters of medieval times when the awkward age would have come much later for men and women. (The age of puberty has dropped greatly the past 100 years, due mostly to the food we eat and the resulting shift in our hormones.) In Forerunner, Josh is eighteen and awkward around girls. (Especially one) Although he's past puberty, he was raised in a small village and did not have much contact with girls. As a result, he's something of an idiot – and a romantic – when it comes to women. I'll be honest, this awkwardness is not difficult for me to write. I remember it very well. And when Josh tells me he's frustrated over not being "cool", I understand.

When I was in Grade Six, I liked this girl, Kathy, for four years. I could barely speak when I was around her. (And she's now a friend on Facebook. Go figure.) In fact, I had trouble speaking around girls, period. Getting braces in Grade 8, long before it was cool, did not help. That said, I still regarded women romantically. I was past puberty, but I didn't view them through the lens of sex. When the pretty girls were around I became nervous and said silly things, things I always wanted to take back when I went home. Safe in my room, I would replay the conversations in my head and then say the cool thing, imagine them nodding at me in appreciation for my wit and overall coolness.

Today, many cultural critics decry our lost 'innocence', they note that children are too mature and too sexed. Some of that is true. I don't like seeing seven year old girls doing a sexy dance or wearing 'slut' clothes. (I also don't like 'modest wear' for women either, but I digress) But that time of nervousness and ignorance still exists however, it just does so at a different age and in a different way. Puberty is still puberty. Observe a bunch of eleven or twelve year olds at a school dance, and you will find the same butterflies and nervousness and silly comments that we delivered during our own spring dances.

Towards that end, the idea of fantasy is not to recall what the current society has lost, (because no society has ever been guilt free) but to create a world that reflects both our ideals and our humanity. A good fantasy reminds us that the first time we went through the awkward phase we were aiming towards something bigger than ourselves. And a good fantasy reminds us that we can always go back. That we can always start over. Speculative fiction is as much about recreating our childhood as it is reliving it, in the hopes that when we fulfill the quest, when we finish the journey, we will remember the awkward dreams of our childhood. That we'll remember and come out on the other side just a little bit changed, formed the way we always imagined we would be when we were young. And innocent.

-Steve

Sex, Virginity and the Law...

Reading the news from around the world can be troubling, but it's a necessary part of examining what we believe. I read a story about a case in France that frankly made me want to throw up into my morning coffee. Here's a summary of the latest news from that case taken off the AP wire. The bracketed comments are my own.

A French court overturned an order annulling the marriage of a Muslim woman accused of lying about being a virgin on Thursday, pending a ruling on appeal expected in September. (It shouldn't have made the mistake in the first place)

The decision adds a further twist to a case that has caused legal confusion and controversy in France.

The marriage was originally annulled last month after a court ruled that the woman had lied over what is called in French law an "essential quality", in this case her virginity. It ruled that the marriage contract was therefore invalid. (This is abominable, and to think it happened in 'secular' France scares the crap out of me)

That ruling was greeted with outrage by feminists and human rights activists shocked that virginity could be considered an "essential quality". (You think?) Some politicians said they were worried that conservative Muslim values were creeping into French law. (No kidding)

The public prosecutor, acting under instructions from the justice ministry, appealed against the ruling, despite objections from the woman in the case, who wanted the marriage to be ended. (This is the sad part of the case, as we worry what will happen to the woman. However, they simply can not let this ruling stand. And I'm glad she wants the marriage to end. If I could talk to her, I would say two things: 1. My friend, you can do better than that jerk and... 2. What were you thinking?)

Thursday's ruling means that the marriage is once again in force until the appeal court rules on Sept. 22. The appeals court could decide that the annulment order should not stand and force the couple to seek a divorce.

***

Before you start wondering why I'm so upset, I want you to think about what the initial ruling actually implied. Imagine your daughter or sister or your friend. She gets married. The husband thinks she is not a virgin because she doesn't bleed on the bed. (Biology 101. A broken hymen indicates nothing when it comes to sex. The hymen can easily be broken through sports or any other sort of activity. I hesitate to even mention that because even mentioning it feels wrong, as if it matters whether to the value of a woman whether she is a virgin or not. By the way, where's the test for the men? Oh, that's right... there isn't one.)

Now your new brother-in-law "discovers" on the wedding night that your sister, in his dull, ignorant mind, is not a virgin. He storms out of the wedding celebrations and brings your sister/friend home and drops her off like a piece of garbage. He then goes to the courts and THEY AGREE WITH HIM?!

In this scenario, the woman is no better than a slave, a piece of meat. The idea of a 'virginity test' is nothing more than misogynistic hate towards women. Anyone who sees it otherwise, I'm afraid, is the one who would be quite comfortable running their own plantation. Despicable.

***

The other aspect to this case is that the court's original decision would have encouraged the already flourishing medical trade in 'hymen reparation'. For those of you who are unaware, there has been a surge of 'hymen reparation' or hymenoplasty from young Islamic women around the world. In this surgery, the doctors essentially sew up the hymen. One surgeon even gives the young women a vial of blood to pour onto the bed, just in case. Gynecologists in Paris report women coming to them for certificates of virginity, and medical tourist packages take women to places such as Tunisia where the surgery is cheaper.

Now I know it sounds absurd for us to even consider that happening in Canada or the U. S., but consider the "abstinence again" campaigns down in the States. A woman 'reclaims' her virginity and dedicates herself to a life of 'purity.' Or how about the creepy Father-Daughter purity balls. Everyone's dressed up like prom goers, the dads in tuxes and the daughters in evening gowns looking all grown up. They dance, they laugh, they giggle. And then father and daughter stand up, holding each others hands, staring into each others' eyes and the girls make these vows as if in a wedding ceremony. (So exactly what are they pledging, you ask?) Here's one example? The girl starts.

"I pledge to remain sexually pure...until the day I give myself as a wedding gift to my husband. ... I know that God requires this of me.. that he loves me. and that he will reward me for my faithfulness. "

And this is what Daddy says in turn:

"I, (daughter's name)'s father, choose before God to cover my daughter as her authority and protection in the area of purity. I will be pure in my own life as a man, husband and father. I will be a man of integrity and accountability as I lead, guide and pray over my daughter and as the high priest in my home. This covering will be used by God to influence generations to come."

This is a fairly common evangelical practice in the U.S. and you can't hear the echoes of 'hymen replacement' from those 'crazy Islamo-Fascists', you should. In both cases we see control clearly in the hands of men, and in the case of the father-daughter purity balls, a little too much incestual contact for my liking. Or as one writer put it:

"To value one’s daughter primarily through proudly talking about the untouched state of her genitals is prurient and invasive. It is demeaning to teach one’s daughter she is a princess only so long as she is obedient and non-sexual. When a girl’s value is tied soley to the presence or absence of her hymen, how can anyone call that a sign of fatherly concern and love?"

***

On a much lighter note, the summer is here, and the abundance of women wearing tight shirts and plunging necklines is back up to summer levels. (Which means 1 out of 2 women) I'd like to say that as a firm believer in, err, women's rights, I happily support their decision to wear whatever they like. So long as THEY know what they are wearing and the affect on the rest of the umm, sometimes slower part of the species.

Case in point. I was standing outside Starbucks talking to an acquaintance when this woman, who was in good shape and about 30, wiggled past us in her heels and plunging v-neck. My friend accidentally turned, forgot to prepare himself, and jerked his head downward in a rather, umm, unsubtle nod as a testament to the woman's err, continuing expertise in the area of self-maintenance. (And perhaps a nod towards her fashion sense as well) She noticed the awkward head bob, and scowled at him through her sunglasses for the next five seconds as she strolled past us. For a second I thought she was going to stop and bop him with her glittering Louis Vachon purse. (I'd be bravely defending him of course, by taking the opportunity to tie my shoes.)

Okay, so this is my comment. Ladies, we men do the best we can in the summer. I think it's only fair that if a man slips up and his eyes drop a little when you put on that extra tiny t-shirt that you cut him some slack. Most of us, like my acquaintance, are not Neanderthals. We probably find you attractive and are horrified by our impoliteness. Fair to say I think, that we're not objectifying you, just admiring the way God made you, and as long as the effort is there, please cut us some slack. If you choose to wear that top (God bless you) you have to know we notice, and so I think you lose the right to scowl on the innocent slip-ups. :) (Some guys are pigs. I get that. In which case I say clobber him with the Louis Vachon purse.)

***

Louis Vachon is not a designer. I know that. Vachon makes those pastry cakes I love, which would be great if I could carry a purse stuffed with cake...

***

Sex is not dirty.

***

I don't have a purse.

***

I'll have another column up in a couple of days, folks. Hope you have a wonderful weekend. Remember to smile and hug someone this weekend. We only go around this planet once.

-Steve

Abortion... and Society's Disdain for Women

About three years ago my friend, a single mom, visited the designated government agency -- yet again -- about the issue of child support. (She hadn't recieved a dime in three years) This agency, created to pursue and if necessary prosecute 'deadbeat dads', was unlike most government offices. It was filled with filing cabinets. The office had yet to 'update' its files to computers. This was no 'backward' country, scrambling to escape its poverty-stricken and war torn past. No, this was in Ontario, a five hundred and thirty billion dollar a year province and the engine behind the so-called socialist Canada. And yet, there were no computers to help keep the files updated so single women struggling to support their children could find out where the father was and what they could do for their share of his support. Her story made me wonder. If it's this bad here, in a country that generally accepts abortion as an ugly if necessary part of our legal system, how is it elsewhere?

For years I've watched the videos, seen the bumper stickers, and listened to the speeches. "Abortion is un-godly! Abortion is murder!" And behind the rallying demagogues Christians have nodded their heads in sage agreement. "Jesus wouldn't be pro-choice, would he? He would have protected the little children, what's wrong with you." And there, at a loss for words and without the experience or understanding to know what I was saying, I nodded and shouted along with them.

I remember a high school debate I had in my Grade Twelve Law class. Me and my partner were against abortion. Our opponents were pro-choice. I rattled the cages with my rhetoric and witticisms, and at the end of the class, my teacher complimented me on my arguments. I recounted the experience to my parents later that evening. It was good to stand solidly on one side of an issue and to know I was right. It made me feel wise and not a little greater then the other peons who were still trying to figure things out.

Unfortunately, that love of 'being right' carried well beyond adolescence. With abortion, there was never anything to discuss. I was against it, in every way. You didn't have to show me the pictures, you didn't have to show me the psychological studies that revealed how damaging it could be to the mother or the violent nature of the operation. I knew it was bad. What puzzled me however, were the people who thought it should be okay. How could they possibly be pro-choice? What was wrong with them?

The answer, of course, was nothing. The answer was that there were more people involved then just the baby. The answer was that while the 'issue' of abortion enraged and ensnarled passions across the continent, mostly everyone forgot about the women. Oh sure, we reassured women from our position that they were doing the right thing, that they would only regret what they had done in the future, that they would live with the guilt for the rest of their life, and heck, we were only trying to help them. And yet, where was that help?

For most young women, that is the unanswerable question? The father can pretty easily do what he wants, and pay minimal -- if any support -- and the mother, well, she's just doing her duty. Once again, the man gets a free pass. And the mother is expected to raise and rear and pay for this child on her own. If we -- as a church -- respect life, why don't we respect the life of the mother? There are lineups at clinics (WE EMPLOY CHILDREN, HOW DISGUSTING!) to prevent young mothers from getting an abortion. Where are those same lineups outside the office that collects support for young mothers? Where is the political and emotional support for single mothers in our churches and in political rallies? Instead, we look at them as if they 'did wrong', without ever calling out the men.

Is abortion really about a woman's right to choose? Of course it is! They certainly aren't getting much help from us. The best we seem to be able to do is put bumper stickers on our car. Maybe it'd be better to stop engaging the rhetoric of an 'issue', and actually help. I know too many single moms... far too many... who can barely make ends meet while their husbands are off exploring their 'new' life.

In these circumstances, it better be a woman's right to choose whether or not she has the baby. No one else cares.

Too often, I hear the chatter of 'raging feminists' destroying society. Mostly this is done by ignorant white males who have never actually read any work by a feminist. I know, because this was me for most of my years through college and beyond. But even the most ardent feminist is not pro-abortion. Of course not. Abortion is traumatic, whether you believe life begins at conception or otherwise. What saddens me is that more often then not, the ones who are pro-choice are actually more humane than those of us in the church, in that they see not one life... but two.

What I love most when I read the Gospels is how Jesus continually flips things. He never sides with an issue, but always considers the lives involved. No one ever gets favored treatment. Not the Jew or the man. And yet, our tendency is just the opposite, isn't it? Give me an issue, and make sure I don't have to see all the details. It sells better, and it 'galvanizes' the church. This bothers me, as it should you, because the last time I checked the church was not running for political office nor was it in the business of marketing itself like some populist television show.
My prayer this week is that we would examine what we believe, and just how those beliefs impact those around us. Are we accepting stereotypes because it's easy? Are we setting up 'groups' to condemn because it's easier than facing our own shadows?

No one thinks abortion is a good thing, but until we support all of human life, a woman should demand the right to choose, if only because we've given her no other choice.

-Steve

Men Should NOT be Spiritual Leaders

The class was packed. Over sixty students listening to our professor in varying degrees of participation. Laptops filled about a third of the desks, and while some people listened closely, a number of others had already tuned the class out, sending emails or playing around on facebook. I watched them from a spot near the back, trying to stay calm. This graduate course in leadership had helped me in many ways, introduced me to a number of great tools and ideas I would use in the future, but today the focus would be different. For me, at least. Highly emotional and highly controversial.

"Okay, so what did you like about the textbooks we studied?" Dr. Magnus asked.

A few people responded, the class alternately nodding and nodding off. Of the three textbooks we'd been asked to read, one of them, Being Leaders by Aubrey Malphurs, had set my teeth on edge. It had confirmed my worst fears about the evangelical world, and at times, it was almost too much to handle. Mark had listened patiently when my rants on reading Malphurs had left me emotionally exhausted and discouraged. How could anyone even believe what this 'respected' leader had written? Why weren't my classmates more upset?

"All right. So what didn't we like about the textbooks?" Dr. Magnus looked at me as my hand shot up and merely sighed.

"Go ahead, Steve."

With that, I proceeded to deliver a four-minute rant about Malphurs' book, a work that not only implied limitations on Christian leadership, but essentially stated that men were more qualified to lead than women. It was this last idea, so visible in his text, that had set me off.
When the class ended, one of the women thanked me for what I'd said. I thanked her, my mind still absorbed and frustrated by the apathy of the class. I understood all too well the dangers of apathy. That which we refused to consciously reject we unconsciously embraced. I sighed and thought about my paper.

In one of our essays for the course, we'd been asked to interact (academically) with our textbooks. I'd broken the rules, and instead written a zero star movie review of Malphurs' work. Here is a portion of what I wrote.

"...Being Leaders is a wonderful text on leadership, but only if read as satire. Malphurs' hyper-Calvinistic, modernistic, misogynistic viewpoint is so stifling and discouraging it is nearly impossible to wade through the endless sea of haughty missives to find anything useful. His 'tools' at the back of the book are exclusive, narrow and insulting (especially to women) which arouses nothing in the reader but a passionate distaste for not only Malphurs' ideas of leadership, but for the Christian publishers and other readers who found the book so helpful. It was so disturbing at times, that only when I focused on the book as if it was written as a satirical diatribe on what leadership should NOT be that I was able to continue. Harsh? Perhaps. But then, perhaps we should reconsider publishing a text that believes women to be nothing more than house wives who should teach Sunday school and 'love their children', with apparently no intellectual capabilities whatsoever..."

Needless to say, my professor was not impressed. That review would result in my lowest grade on a paper the entire year. Now, thinking back, I stand by what I've written, my mark be damned. This idea that men should be the spiritual leader (in both the church and relationships) inherently exacerbates the idea that women should not and that men are not only different, but better. It is a gender-based ideal, and one that the church must reject. Being a man no more qualifies me for being a leader than being a teacher or journalist. Much has been written about the dearth of leadership in the church, but when we are basing our choices on physiological differences, (dare I say the word) then what do we expect?

As passionately as I will argue for the equality of women within the church, understand that this has been a long process for me. Growing up in a traditional home and being educated in a conservative environment did much to prolong my own ideas of inequality, though I didn't see them that way. I have heard and used the "Trinity argument" - i.e. women are not less, just different, just like Jesus and God the Father and the Holy Spirit. I have heard and used the "moderate evangelical" argument - i.e. "yes, men are to lead, but they are to lead by serving."
What I've seen, however, reveals otherwise. That as long as people believe they should be leaders as a matter of entitlement (born a man, not a woman), we are destined to have bad leaders promulgate their prejudice like a subtle poison.

And the real tragedy... all of this is done in the name of Christ.

The biggest argument an evangelical will hear/use is the Apostle Paul's statement about a woman NOT having authourity over a man. I won't drag into hermeneutics here, because it gets a bit boring, even if it's informative. What I will say is that hegemony always seeks to sustain itself. It is the nature of power. Paradoxically, this very thing is the most compelling aspect of Jesus, this idea of a God who forsook power to become one of us. If hegemony is found in the male, or the white male, then the natural tendency of the white male will be to sustain and excuse itself.

Christians often quote the New Testament, tell others that we 'literally' accept the Bible, (even though this is impossible) and denote that as our benchmark for not allowing women the right to lead within the church.

That (phallic) argument is fallacy.

If you accept the Bible literally, why are women not wearing hats in your church? Why do you reject that verse but accept Paul's comment about the family? And if you are actually making women wear hats, (Lord help you all) then why don't you have slaves? Didn't Paul tell the slaves to submit?

You see, we all accept and reject certain verses. This sounds obvious, but it is astounding how many evangelicals actually believe they are 'interpreting' Scripture correctly. I'm not saying that any group is wrong or right, only that we are all wrong a lot. And if that's the case, sometimes we have to allow principle, the principles of scripture, to dictate our beliefs. In this case, as I often do, I think about William Wilberforce. I think about the Christians who rejected his notion of freedom based on two of Paul's letters in the New Testament. I think about the endless debates he had with other "Christians" who somehow thought slavery was acceptable. I also think about the women I've spoken to this past year, those who live in relationships, trapped and tormented by men who believe themselves to following Jesus, and yet who deny their wives the very personhood Jesus sought to grant us by his death on the cross. It is a tragic, horrible picture, and it haunts me.

Should men be spiritual leaders? It is the wrong question. We should all be spiritual leaders. We should all be working to lead and to serve in our lives. And those who lead in the church should be leading based on their giftings, not on their gender. We've all sat under bad leaders. Some were men. Some were women. The truth is that both genders are capable of good and bad leadership, and both genders are capable of producing terrible leaders.

As a church, however, we must get away from this idea that because "the Bible says so" when it comes to leadership, we must get away from the ignorant argument "that's how it is."

My prayer is that this week you will ask yourself some hard questions. Does it bother you if women are in a position of leadership? Do you really believe women are equal to men? Women need to answer these questions too. I have seen too many marriages on the verge of breakdown, heard too many tales of abuse and control, because this question was never addressed.
There is no difference in the potential of men and women, and throughout his ministry, Jesus did nothing but affirm the importance of women in a society that had little or no use for them. Whatever we believe, know that if we are unwilling to bend, if we are unwilling to ask why we believe the things we believe and be honest about it, man or woman, we will never grow into the people God wants us to be.

-Steve

How to Interest the Opposite Sex

Lessons From A Dork: Volume II


There are aspects to dating, and I mean trying to find special someone, that are just nonsensical. For most of us who are single, that's pretty obvious. For people who are married or in 'relationships', well, sometimes I have to remind them how tough it can be. How fruitless. How mind-numbingly, sigh inducing, and utterly ridiculous it can be. And that's just the first date.
It gets even tougher when you don't understand the opposite sex. Or yourself. Or what message you're supposed to convey. Or why the opposite sex responds to things they're not supposed to respond to. Or why they always want to be your friend. Or why they always want more than friendship.

This is true whether you're a Christian or not, religious or not; it's all the same, because these principles are universal. I'm not saying that makes it easier. If anything, it just makes it more difficult. Christians have certainly tried hard enough. Have you ever tried to read one of those ridiculous Christian 'dating' books? Yeah. Those are a big help. Especially since they're inevitably written by an old married guy who hasn't been on a date in twenty years. Ahhh. So you want me to 'court' the woman, whatever that means, and then make sure I ask permission before I bring my father's carriage over for a Sunday afternoon ride in the park. Helpful. What do I do when they won't get off their cell phone? Put the horses into a light canter?

I have to be honest, I don't worry about dating a whole lot these days. If a woman thinks I'm mean, or an idiot, or goofy, or whatever, I can smile and walk away. Don't get me wrong, I didn't get to this point because I suddenly understand the whole Mars/Venus thing. (Except for a basic premise that women and men are equal. That seems to be a big deal. Too many guys still attach their egos to their rims or their stereo or their finely tailored suits. It is called compensating, big guy, and its pretty obvious to the rest of us.) No. It happened when the information became so confusing at some point I just stopped caring. Little did I know that I was on the right track to becoming more interesting. Little did I know that I was starting to exhibit the behaviours and habits women were looking for. (Apparently I was showing confidence by not caring what they thought, although I may have wanted to care and wanted them to know that, but by not caring, it showed that I cared about the things that mattered most, which is what they cared about.)

Yup... it's confusing. Some authours try to divide their 'theories' specifically for men OR women, but the principles are the same. A friend tried to explain it to me a few years ago, but back then, I didn't really understand what he was saying.


Three years ago...

She was short, with curled brown hair that nestled around her shoulders and just past her graceful neck. She walked with an easy grace, and as she passed by she noticed me at the table and smiled. I tried to hide my surprise as I smiled and quickly looked away.

"I saw that." Jeff said.

We were having a coffee at my favourite cafe, and I was wrangling the confidence to ask him how I could be more successful with the opposite sex.

"What?"

"You looked away. Why did you look away. Do you feel unworthy or something?"

"No. I mean- she just kind of surprised- it's not about being worthy- I just-"

He laughed.

"Well, maybe you can help me, dude."

I'd already thought about this. I figured someone who’d been dating four girls when he’d met his wife (to whom he remains happily married) could help my romantic skills. At this point I was being realistic. My track record spoke for itself.

He snorted and laughed when I asked him his secret.

“Are you serious? You want advice for dating women?” he said, taking a quick peek around, as if I'd asked him a national secret. I knew what he was thinking. What dork would openly admit he needs help!?

“Yeah. Like you’ve dated so many, and now that I’m back in the game, I want to get a handle on what’s changed.”

Jeff gave me a skeptical look, as if to say I’d never played the game, not at the competitive level anyway.

“Well, the first thing you need to do is not talk so much.”

“Huh?”

“Don’t talk so damn much. Women hate it when you barrage them with information. It makes you look desperate. Be cool.”

“What makes you think I talk too much.”

He raised an eyebrow and took a sip from his coffee.

“Remember Kim?”

I nodded. Crap, I hadn’t remembered telling him about her.

“Okay, talk less. Got it. What else?”

Jeff scratched his head. I could tell that he thought this exercise was pointless but he kept going.

“Well, the main thing is that you have to not care. You have to not care if she likes you or doesn’t like you. It can’t bother you if she doesn’t call you back or if she ignores you at some point when you first meet.”

“What? That doesn’t make any sense at all. If she doesn’t know that I want to know her, how will she know that I’m interested?”


“You don’t want her to know that you’re interested in her. You want her to be interested in you.” Jeff said, barely able to contain his frustration.

"But two minutes ago you told me I shouldn't have looked away, that I should have maintained eye contact."


f course! When you looked down you basically told her you were unworthy of her, that she was not at your level, that you would do anything to get her approval."

Now that didn’t make any sense at all. I sipped my coffee, pretending to think about what he’d said, but he might as well have been speaking Latin. What the heck is he talking about? I did all that. All I did was to sip my coffee?

The good friend that he is, Jeff sighed, sensing my lack of understanding, and tried again.


“Women want mystery. They want to know that you’re not easily available. They want to feel special, and so when you do give them attention, it means something. No woman is interested in a man who is obviously interested in her.”


"So... what do I do?”

“Ignore her. Let her make the first move.”

"Except when I first see them."


"Right, you need to establish that you believe you're worthy of them."

I stared at him blankly.

I’m going to be single for the rest of my life.

Jeff stood, his frame full of sighs and smirks and gentle humour.


"Burnsy, you’ll never play the game. Might as well stay out.”

“Wait! Don’t give up on me, pal. I hear what you’re saying. Let me see if I got this right. I need to talk less, hardly say anything, and when I see a woman that I’m interested in, I have to not care if she’s interested or not. I stare at her first, to establish my worthiness. But later, well, that’s when I ignore her, to give her a sense of mystery about the whole thing, and if she doesn’t make the first move, I shouldn’t worry about it.”


Jeff laughed so loud and so long that tears began to roll down his face.


"Oh, Burns…” Was all he could say before he broke into reams of laughter again. I sighed.

“I’m going to be single for the rest of my life, aren’t I?”

He patted my shoulder in reassurance.

“Believe it or not, Burnsy, there are women out there who don’t play the game. That’s who you need to find.”

Right. Piece of cake.


I remembered our conversation a number of months later after an unsuccessful foray into the female domain. What Jeff had said was pretty similar to the stuff John told me on a regular basis, but for whatever reason, I had trouble putting the whole thing into practice with the women I’d met. I can’t tell you how frustrating it all was.

I remember walking my friend Joanne to her car one day outside the school parking lot, when the subject of dating came up. She’d been single for nearly a year, and I was wondering if she’d met anybody interesting in the last month.

“I like being single, Steve. Right now, I just don’t want the responsibility of calling someone three times a day and knowing where each other is at all times and checking to make sure its okay if I do something with them.”

"Hey, Joanne, what do you think about this worthiness stuff?"

I told her what Jeff had said.

She laughed and then nodded.

"That's about right. A woman needs to know that a man will call her on her crap. If he's always looking for approval, it won't be good." She paused. "Would you want a woman who was always trying to please you?"

"Nope. I guess not."

As I watched her drive away, I wondered how my past relationships had affected me. Was I doing that? Looking for approval?

Today...

It amazes me how many unhappy couples I see. They fight on the bus, in the supermarket, in the coffee shop. Someone needs to tell them that they don't have to be together. Aren't relationships a choice? When did we decide that they were so important that you couldn't have a whole life without a romantic relationship? I think that a part of the problem is definitely related to our search for approval. That without someone telling us we are worthy, or implying our worthiness by their presence next to us. (Look, someone loves me. I must be valuable.) And we hold on to those relationships even when they are destructive.


Yeah, relationships can be great, but there are far too many people who are miserable in their relationships. Luckily, I don't need to produce a study to back this up. Just walk around and listen to people. (As a side note to you couples, please don't argue in public. We don't want to hear and see your crap. It isn't cool. If I go to a bookstore to relax, I don't want to hear you fighting over the new wallpaper or whether the crib should be corral or peach, or whether your sister-in-law was flirting with you. And that goes for people (single or not) on your cell phone. News flash. WE CAN HEAR YOU! Go outside or something.)

The voices in society tell us a lot of things. They tell we need this, that we must have that. They tell us we are worthy only if we are or do something a certain way. How cool that God loves us with all of our crap. Relationships are only worth it if they are worth it. If they aren't, then what are we doing?!

If I had figured that out when I was seventeen with my first girlfriend, it would have saved me a world of heartache, but that's a story for another day.

-Steve