The Bishop and the Butterfly: Murder, Politics, and the End of the Jazz Age
    MJS's picture

    Purity Control

    I forgot I made coffee this morning, and once I remembered the pot was a-brewin', the black sour liquid of life had already gotten cold and stale. Luckily, as I got online and checked out Dagblog, my heart basked in the warmth of the realization that if there's one thing that never gets old, tired, cold, and stale, it's the gay marriage debate.

     

    Of course, whether there is any actual “debate” is in itself, well, debatable. You can debate about economics, because ultimately there are concessions and compromises that can be made, and the goals are similar, if not the same, regardless of the differences in the proposed means of arriving at them. In the case of gay marriage and equality, however, there does not appear to be any common ground. In such an environment, it is difficult to reach a consensus.

     

    Whenever I witness one of these “debates,” or participate in one myself, there appear to be similarities among all of these occasions. The arguments remain the same. The proposed facts remain primarily the same. So do the ideologies, the moral viewpoints, and whatever else you want to mix in. There's tugging, and there's pushing; there's ramming, and there's pulling.

     

    I try very, very hard to understand the opposition. But it sure can be difficult. For instance, all this talk about the sanctity of marriage. I'm not sure what that even means, but it does sound great, whatever it is. Take Larry King, for example – he's getting divorced for the eighth time. Meanwhile, Elizabeth Taylor, who's also been married eight times, is dating another young guy. She maintains she won't get married again, but we all know how insatiable Cleopatra is. These two iconic individuals would make great poster fodder for pro-marriage campaigns; it can hardly be said that either of them has a problem acquiring a marriage license. Or repeating wedding vows. Or filing for divorce. And that, after all, is the usual procession of a marriage.

     

    About half of all marriages end in divorce, but I have never seen massive, public anti-divorce campaigns. I haven't seen any bills on the Congress floor for making divorce illegal, either. So I guess when we talk about sanctity of marriage, we are simply talking about semantics. Definitions. Like, marriage is between a man and a woman. That's nice. It's a simple mentality, kind of like a form of mental saran wrap; seals in the stench and keeps other flavors and odors out. Very convenient. No need to ask unpleasant questions, such as “what about the transgendered?”

     

    It must be hard enough trying to answer other, much more plain inquiries, such as “why should homosexuals be treated as second class citizens?” or “why should they not have the same rights as heterosexuals?” Tough questions. It's fairly common to see gay marriage opponents remark that they think we should all be treated equal, and that they do not consider homosexuals inferior; they simply want to maintain the idea that marriage is a concept that only heterosexuals are entitled to. That's all. Cue in the usual disclaimer to the tune of being “a heterosexual man/woman who loves his/her wife/husband, and desires him/her and only them, is in a monogamous relationship in which he/she has vowed to stay.” This statement is elaborate for a reason – it is intended to present a contrast of values between a heterosexual and a homosexual relationship. After all, only heterosexuals can be loving and monogamous; gays will have sex with anyone.

     

    The one step on which the opponents of gay marriage always trip on is the question of whether or not religious morals should do battle with civil rights in the form of legislative agendas. It has always seemed strange to me that Republicans, who are so gung ho about keeping the government out of personal lives, seem to think that legislation should be used to tell consenting adults who they can and cannot marry, and that those laws should be drafted by individuals whose own rights are not affected by those very laws. How is this even constitutional? There has been a lot of uproar lately regarding the health care reform, and how those legislative changes do not apply to the senators and congressmen who voted on them. How many of those politicians, who have and will vote on gay rights, will experience an impact in their personal lives as a result of the validation or invalidation of those rights?

     

    Legislation is not intended – at least in this country, at least in theory – to reflect the religious morals of the right, nor is it supposed to force the values of the left to be accepted unilaterally by the whole nation. What it should do, however, is provide us all equal rights in the eyes of the law, and to protect individuals in a corporeal and non-corporeal sense. If we want to be democratic, if we want to be fair, and just, and free, then the majority should protect the rights of the minority when they are incapable of doing so themselves, particularly when the majority are the sole threat to those rights.

     

    Sanctity means moral purity. If you want to defend the moral purity of the constitution of marriage, here is my advice: it begins at home, not on the steps of a courthouse. And while we're on the subject of defending the sanctity of marriage, here's the problem: there is barely any sanctity to it when half the nation's couples are filing for divorce or committing adultery. Sanctity, as it pertains to marriage, is not a legislative concept; it is purely, simply, and only a matter of individual actions. You cannot, cannot, cannot protect the sanctity of other people's marriages, you can only protect that of your own.

     

    Lastly, I take issue with the religious aspect of the argument. I was brought up Evangelist-Lutheran, I have been baptized, I have been through confirmation; the Lutheran church was a constant presence in one form or another as I was growing up. I realize that there are differences of belief even among Christians, but I was taught to place more emphasis on the Ten Commandments than every chapter and verse of the Old Testament. I thought this was universal as far as Christians go, but clearly not. Could someone point to the one of the Ten Commandments which prohibits two men, or two women, from getting married and forming a union? Can you refer to the one that states that we should, as Christians, make the effort to prevent others from entering monogamous, spiritual, and legally binding unions? Do we not want couples to be exclusive, to promise to have and to hold, to remain true? Are you seriously telling me that we want less people getting married and forming these official commitments?

     

    The destruction of the sanctity of marriage begins at home.

    Comments

    Could someone point to the one of the Ten Commandments which prohibits two men, or two women, from getting married and forming a union?

    Ten Commandments, no, but there are bits from the Bible that pretty unequivocally condemn sodomy--as in, those sodomites must be stoned. Are you suggesting that the Ten Commandments contradicts the other bits of the Old Testament.

    But theological justification has always seemed like an exercise in psychological rationalization to me. History has long demonstrated that in practice, theology dictates pretty much whatever people want it to dictate. Into black slavery? Well then, you can find your biblical rationale. Hate the Jews? Well then, they killed Jesus, didn't they? Larry's friend Rachael can pretend that she's just following God's will, but that's only an excuse to make her feel righteous about her own will.


    No, the Old Testament doesn't hold much water with me. I think the Ten Commandments are pretty reasonable guidelines for life, if one seeks something of that nature, but the Old Testament is filled to the brim with batshit stuff. I referred to the Ten Commandments only because we were taught that those were pretty much the laws God passed on to mankind; most of the Old Testament we skipped entirely in school because it wasn't considered that essential to the spirit of Christianity. A good example, I think, of how theology works in general - you can pick and choose the parts to emphasize, the ones that fit your prejudices and pre-existing opinions best.


    Not to bash the good ol' 10 Commandments, but you do realize that fully 40% of them (specifically, commandments 1-4) have to do with God's vanity, don't you? Just sayin'…