A couple of days ago, I read this article, published by The Guardian newspaper here in the UK, which consists of a book review. The book in question being Lower Than Angels by Diarmaid MacCulloch, which covers in detail the weird relationship between Christianity and sex. If readers of this post are feeling their antennae twitch, it will be with good reason, because McCulloch exposes some frankly farcical aspects of that weird relationship.
The introductory paragraphs are themselves informative, with respect to the nonsensical and sometimes dangerous approach to matters of human intimacy arising from the background in question. But the paragraph that caught my eye was this - possibly the craziest piece of theological navel gazing I’ve encountered in some time:
Yes, this is the sort of frankly deranged nonsense that religion has led even learned men to waste time and effort upon. While the article reserved the phrase:
for some of the more febrile imaginings of various religious women, this could be a description of the entire religious enterprise full stop, especially when it starts interfering with biology, and dramatically so when it starts sticking its unwanted tentacles into human sexuality. Indeed, the view of the Abrahamic religions in particular as constituting ideological hentai monsters of repressive prurience becomes all the more appealing, the further into the review one dives. The end of the article injects some sense into the proceedings, viz:
Before the usual suspects start posting their typical gibberish at this juncture, MacCulloch has both erudition and gravitas to bear on the matter, given that he obtained a Doctor of Divinity degree from the University of Oxford, and now enjoys the status of Professor Emeritus there. Yes, I’m one of those people who usually regards theology as a fantasy subject, but when someone from the inside starts pointing out the absurdities that religion generates, not to mention the iniquities arising from dogmatic insistence upon treating those absurdities not merely as fact, but as purportedly “sacred” doctrine never to be questioned, the intervention on behalf of sanity is welcome.
In his case, MacCulloch backs up the exposé of absurdity and iniquity with enough scholarly rigour to withstand with ease, the assaults of the amateur apologists and ideological stormtroopers for infantile heresies that, for example, pollute various Internet venues with their toxic drivel. A quick detour from here, to look up his life and career, will quickly reveal that he is no friend of Falwell style rabble rousing, the self-parodying exercise in rectal self-insertion that is American conservative Christianity (let alone the excrescence that is Christian Nationalism and its Dominionist ancestor), and even found the relatively mild Anglican tradition of the UK troublesome in an era when it supported anti-gay ideas and policies.
Indeed, in an interview in which he otherwise waxed lyrical about being able to travel to exotic locations, and learn about aspects of Christian history that most people do not even know exist, the following note is included:
Indeed, “a miserable experience” pretty much sums up what everyone whose inner nature has clashed with dogma and orthodoxy has endured. It’s telling that he emerged from that personal schism thus:
A pity more do not share his sagacity in this regard. Indeed, in my view, MacCulloch earns admiration for being an honest insider within the ramparts of a religious citadel, one not afraid to stand up and say “enough” when the nonsense becomes untenable. This is someone I could probably enjoy numerous fireside chats with, though whether he would consider me in the same light is obviously a matter of speculation.
The veterans will probably appreciate me bringing this here. As for the usual suspects, my advice to you is tread warily here.