L.B.: Cruel to be kind, pt. 2

Left Behind, pp. 367-377

Rayford Steele has taken Hattie Durham aside for a lecture about sex, sin, God and the end of the world. This will not be an argument or a dialogue or even a conversation, he explains. He will do the talking and she will do the listening. Once he's done talking, he will allow her to speak, but only once he's done.

One of my repeated complaints about this book is that it is not creepy enough. The scenes describing the Rapture and its aftermath are not nearly as disturbing or unsettling as they ought to be. But this scene -- this is disturbing. Rayford's behavior here is plenty creepy. The whole scene plays out like one of those didactic school-assembly dramas that teach kids to recognize the warning signs of abusers.

Creepier still is the realization that the authors don't intend for this scene to read this way. Rayford here seems to be doing his impression of Patrick Bergin in Sleeping With the Enemy, but the authors mean for us to see him as a model of good, Christian, manly behavior.

After several pages of his laying out the ground rules and establishing his rightful male dominance over the submissive female, Rayford finally gets around to the apology he hinted at earlier. It starts out promising:

Rayford leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees, gesturing as he spoke. "Hattie, I owe you a huge apology, and I want your forgiveness. ..."

I'm glad now he's only gesturing as he speaks and not just waving the Hand of Silence at Hattie while she's talking. But the rest of this bit is begging to be rewritten from Hattie's point of view:

"... We were friends. We enjoyed each other's company. I loved being with you and spending time with you. I found you beautiful and exciting, and I think you know I was interested in a relationship with you."

She looked surprised, but Rayford assumed that, had it not been for her pledge of silence, she would have told him he had a pretty laid-back way of showing interest.

Rayford is confident that he knows exactly what a woman would say to him if he were to allow her to speak. And he's completely confident what Hattie would have told him if he had been less laid-back in showing his interest. "If I had found you willing," he continues, but the "if" there is merely rhetorical. Rayford has already assumed that she -- and apparently every other woman at any time -- would be "willing."

"If I had found you willing, I'd have eventually done something wrong." She furrowed her brow and looked offended.

"Yes," he said, "it would have been wrong. I was married, not happily and not successfully, but that was my fault. Still, I had made a vow, a commitment, and no matter how justified my interest in you, it would have been wrong."

I think it is wrong for married men to cheat on their wives. Cheating is not a victimless crime -- every betrayal involves a betray-ee, often more than one. Plus it's not a great deal for the other woman, who is expected to make due with table-scraps. But Rayford's wrong-wrong-wrong rant here seems more like he's directing it at Hattie than at himself. It reminds me of Sen. Larry Craig's description of former President Clinton as "a nasty, bad, naughty boy," except that Rayford seems to be condemning nasty, bad, naughty Hattie for tempting him to become a nasty, bad, naughty boy.

Now Rayford's "I must be cruel only to be kind" strategy really kicks in, and it works out as well for Hattie as it did for Ophelia. "There would have been no future for us," he tells Hattie:

"It isn't just that we're so far apart in age, but the fact is that the only real interest I had in you was physical. You have a right to hate me for that, and I'm not proud of it. I did not love you. You have to agree, that would have been no kind of a life for you."

She nodded, appearing to cloud up. He smiled. "I'll let you break your silence temporarily," he said. "I need to know that you at least forgive me."

As she begins to cry we get that two-word sentence: "He smiled." It's not quite that he's smiling because he has succeeded in making her cry. His smile, instead, is intended as a kind of gentle overture, a comforting gesture. It's almost a fatherly smile. It seems very much like the reassuring smile of the Good Cop during a brief respite from "harsh interrogation techniques." It's a smile that says, "I'm sorry this is happening to you. Would you like a glass of water? I can get them to stop, you know, if you'd just cooperate. ..." It's a smile that never quite conceals a note of menace -- a smile that asks you to play along with the false conceit that the person smiling isn't complicit in the ordeal you're experiencing.

Rayford is lying about his "physical" interest in Hattie. This is the "woman he had never touched," the woman he had fetishized like a collector, stringing her along, unopened in the original shrink-wrap packaging. Nothing has changed. He's still playing the same kinky control game that he's played all along. I think he's leaning forward like that to hide his arousal.

"Sometimes I wonder if honesty is always the best policy," she said. "I might have been able to accept this if you had just said your wife's disappearance made you feel guilty about what we had going. ... That would have been a kinder way to put it."

"Kinder but dishonest. Hattie, I'm through being dishonest. Everything in me would rather be kind and gentle and keep you from resenting me, but I just can't be phony anymore. I was not genuine for years."

"And now you are?"

"To the point where it's unattractive to you," he said. She nodded. "Why would I want to do that? ... I want to be able to convince you, when I talk about even more important things, that I have no ulterior motives."

The authors would have us believe that Rayford has gone from pursuing Hattie's body to pursuing her soul, but that's just not true. He's been after her soul all along.

Hattie's lips quivered. She pressed them together and looked down, a tear rolling down her cheek. It was all Rayford could do to keep from embracing her. There would be nothing sensual about it, but he couldn't afford to give the wrong signal. "Hattie," he said. "I'm so sorry. Forgive me."

She nodded, unable to speak. She tried to say something, but couldn't regain her composure.

"Now, after all that," Rayford said, "I somehow have to convince you that I do care for you as a friend and as a person."

Hattie held up both hands, fighting not to cry. ...

This goes on for a full page, with her sobbing and him interjecting things like, "Your tears give me no satisfaction," and "I would be no friend if I didn't tell you what I've found, what I've learned ..." Through it all I was desperately hoping for Hattie to launch into Mercedes Ruehl's speech from The Fisher King --

No, you don't get to be nice. I ain't gonna play a stupid game where we act like friends so you get to walk out feeling good about yourself.

-- but she never does. She just takes it until she can't take it anymore, at which point she blurts out, "Give me a minute" and hurries off. Rayford has been pulling her strings for so long he knows she can't break them, so he's not at all worried she might not come back. He just sits there, thumbing through his dead raptured wife's Bible, running lines so he can be off-book by the time Hattie returns:

He had decided not to sit talking to Hattie with the Bible open. He didn't want to embarrass or intimidate her, despite his newfound courage and determination.

The scene switches to Humbert, Lolita and their cookie and we return to Captain Steele when Hattie does:

... slightly refreshed but still puffy eyed and sat again as if ready for more punishment. Rayford reiterated that he was sincere ...

Punishment expected; punishment delivered.

My theory for the rest of this chapter gets back to something we've discussed earlier about characters taking on a life of their own, struggling to behave humanly despite the best or worst efforts of the authors. My theory is that Hattie Durham, airhead flight attendant and future Whore of Babylon as written by LaHaye and Jenkins, is still sobbing uncontrollably in the women's room at the Pan Con Club (bleibe, reste, stay!). The Hattie we see here, instead, is that other Hattie, acting on her own against the wishes of the authors. She emerges here because this is the scene where Hattie first hears, and rejects, the End Times Gospel of Tim LaHaye and so the authors attempt to make her seem combative and disdainful. Thus readers are presented with this strange scene in which Rayford, the character they are trying to portray as the very model of godliness, comes across as vain and shallow, while Hattie, the character they are trying to portray as vain and shallow, comes across as closer to an actual human than anything else we've encountered in this book.

Hattie's more-assertive doppelganger recognizes that Rayford's not going to shut up or stop pestering her until she forgives him and reassures him that he is good and strong and -- above all -- sincere, so she grants him a deadpan absolution:

"I need to know you forgive me," he said.

"You seem really hung up on that, Rayford. Would that let you off the hook, ease your conscience?"

"I guess maybe it would," he said. "Maybe it would tell me you believe I'm sincere."

"I believe it," she said. "... And I don't hold grudges, so I guess that's forgiveness."

"I'll take what I can get," he said. "Now I want to be very honest with you."

"Uh-oh, there's more? Or is this where you educate me about what happened last week?"

She actually lands a couple of punches there. I'm sure the authors intended that to show us how hard-hearted she is being despite Rayford's sincere sincerity, but all I was thinking was Good for you.

"Does this require some reaction?" Hattie asks before he begins his sales pitch. "Do I have to buy into your idea or something?" According to Rayford's Rules of Order, she's still not supposed to be allowed to speak, but meta-Hattie isn't playing by Rayford's rules anymore and Rayford is no match for her. The Hand of Silence has lost its power. Her tone is a bit sarcastic, but her questions are genuine -- she's really asking what it is, exactly, that he needs her to do in order for him to get this over with already.

"If it's something you can't handle right now," he says, "I'll understand. But I think you'll see the urgency of it." And then we get the paragraph quoted earlier, about Holy Spirit descending on Rayford in the form of a dove and a voice from Heaven declaring "This is my beloved evangelist in whom I am well pleased. Take notes, people -- this is how you proselytize":

Rayford felt much like Bruce Barnes had sounded the day they met. He was full of passion and persuasion, and he felt his prayers for courage and coherence were answered as he spoke.

And then we get two pages of the authors telling us about Rayford telling Hattie about the things Bruce told him about. Rayford began by telling Hattie that he didn't want a conversation or a dialogue, but we don't even get a glimpse of his big monologue, just a lot of sentences like this:

He told her of calling the church, meeting Bruce, Bruce's story, the videotape, their studies, the prophecies from the Bible, the preachers in Israel ...

Interspersed throughout this are little notes about how "Hattie sat motionless," or "Hattie stared at him. Nothing in her body language or expression encouraged him," or "Hattie wouldn't even give him the satisfaction of a nod." (Again, Good for you.)

After nearly half an hour, he exhausted his new knowledge, and he concluded, "Hattie, I want you to think about it, consider it, watch the tape, talk to Bruce if you want to. I can't make you believe. All I can do is make you aware of what I have come to accept as the truth."

Was it as good for you as it was for me, baby?

Hattie sat back and sighed. "Well, that's sweet, Rayford. It really is. I appreciate your telling me all that."

She'd stay and cuddle for a bit, but she has an early flight in the morning and she has to go home to walk the dog and no, that's fine, she'll see herself out, thanks. Buh-bye now.

Rayford's Big Speech is so underwhelming because L&J are terrible writers who always prefer telling to showing. The reader thus reaches the end of this chapter as unmoved and unpersuaded as Hattie is. But L&J really didn't have a choice here, there was no way to write this passage effectively. There was no credible way to show Rayford's "passion and persuasion" when this was his subject matter; no way to allow the readers to hear the words he spoke while still maintaining the illusion that those words made sense. "I never knew that stuff was in the Bible," Hattie says after Rayford's speech. But "that stuff" isn't in the Bible, which is why his speech had to be kept hidden from readers.

Throughout our discussion of this section, I've used words like "evangelize" and "proselytize" to describe Rayford's agenda here, but I should note again that this was never really what he was doing -- even if it's what he and the authors think he was doing. Everything leading up to this chapter showed Rayford worrying about Hattie's salvation, as though leading her to repentance, to conversion, to faith and amazing grace were what he intended. But he never gets anywhere near any of that.

The "gospel" Rayford presents to Hattie has no incarnation, no cross, no resurrection, no Christ. It has nothing to do with anything other than "prophecy" and the End Times Checklist. The central figure of Rayford's gospel is not Jesus Christ, but Nicolae Carpathia. Rayford is preaching an anti-gospel.

Comments

[hf]

Too bad the Atma Crown can only go to Hindus.

[Angelika]

Scott, what exactly do you think is wrong about that firm? I just read through the articles you linked to and these people's point of view seems to be quite all-right to me. (I mean resolving conflict often takes a bit more time than in those glorious examples, but the approach seems fine.)

[Chris]

*applauds damnedyankee*

[Praline]

Bless you, Nenya, and thanks! I blush. :-)

[Conscience]

About the crowns in heaven, one of the prequel books say that you don't even get to keep them: you have to throw them back at God's feet. Which makes me think of the episode of South Park where Cartman instructs everyone what gifts they're supposed to give him for his birthday.

[rizzo]

I'm wondering if Rayford at any point told Hattie that the gum she liked was going to come back into style...that would have fit in just about perfectly.

As I've recently posited over on the agonybooth forum, I'm working on this idea that ultra conservatives/L&J type born agains generally have problems relating to other people and feeling actual empathy for them. It first struck me during a discussion of failed conservative comedy attempts, because empathy is a very important part of comedy...you can't make people laugh if you don't know what will make them laugh to begin with.
I think this idea fits in very will with the scene here...hell, Rayford pretty much states that he doesn't care about how she feels. He really hasn't shown any signs of being able to relate to anyone throughout this whole story. He was only playing a role in the church before the Rapture, couldn't understand his wife or daughter, and really hasn't shown compassion for a single character yet.

What do you folks think?

[Victor]

>Anyone here think Victor might be a refugee from Camazotz? :)
Posted by: Salamanda | Dec 15, 2007 at 12:26 AM

You're way off base Salamanda!

I've given everything I own and think about to The Holy Trinity for filtration and I agree with many readers that He truly has His Hands full with this A.S.S. H.O.L.E., Annoying Super Sinner Helping Old Losers Everywhere, but we’re all entitled to our opinion.

For those who don't know anything about the insult that was suggested my way, they can read a little concerning IT at

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Camazotz.

Weather we believe it or not, I guess we’re all lucky that Jesus Commanded US to forgive each other over and over again. Who knows, maybe He said those words to protect US (Usual Sinner) from that old black magic.

For those who truly are interested in the last days, well, for what it’s worth, I honestly believe that we've missed them cause a little voice from inside tells me that ‘IT’ started just before Christ was crucified, in other words X times Y is but a moment for The Trinity.

I also truly believe that we are made in God's Image but the problem is that every time The Father intervenes here on earth, Our Sins start thinking that they are really in charge of all those blessings. What a waste of good old spiritual wheat! It might have something to do with the saying, the last being first and the first being last. The End of this world occurs for someone during every moment so we should not panic cause we’ll all get our turn someday.

Hey! If anyone tries to use this material on me, I’m going to ask them why they want to listen to a Crazy Man! You know what I mean Bert? (lol)

Let's keep it simple and take care of God's Children where ever they may be. It can't be that hard to let them know that we Love Them! Can it be Salamanda even if I might be suffering from Art His Him? (lol :)

Deep down in each heart we’re all good so during this season of Christmas, let’s give ourselves all a big hug good people.

>MerrySue said:
>Victor- sorry, my sarcasm meter needs a tune-up
Merry Christmas!
For what it’s worth MerrySue, my heart honestly felt your sincerity. Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year.

[Chan]

Ken said:

"Part of him doesn't want to be writing this thing because he's under God's control. His hand writes, and moves on, of its own accord, putting down words that he knows don't come from him. -- Chan

Question, Chan: If that's what 'Inspiration' is, how does it differ from Automatic Writing?"

I think you're mistaking me for an expert, but I'll give it a shot:

It seems like a pillar of faith in American Christianity today that God wrote the Bible, every last word of it. If you accept that, then the men and women whose hands held the pens and the paper, metaphorically speaking, had no influence or control over what they put down: they were just God's stenographers. So, how does that differ from automatic writing? One might argue that most automatic writing comes from lesser ethereal beings, that God hasn't written anything since he wrote the King James Version. If you discount the influence of the supernatural and interpret automatic writing as a sort of mania or psychological disturbance, then you probably will interpret that picture of Matthew as a metaphor, anyway.

Anyway, that sense of Matthew in thrall to his muse is just my interpretation. And my interpretation is just one of the possibilities. You may look at that picture and see his Brow Furrowed in Deep Thought, or you may see No No It's Coming Out All Wrong That's Not What It's Like In My Head, both of which are expressions and sentiments that I have seen in my relatives who create.

My apologies if I have tread on anyone's sensibilities. I can be shockingly ham-handed sometimes.

[Ecks]

Jon, if you have a long story, you should post it to Right Behind instead (then put a link here). If you are interested, send an email to allregistered1 att excite dott com, and we'll set you up an account to post there.

Chris: L&J's Heaven may sound like a soul-destroyingly horrible place, but at least it has bling.

Hee hee :) That was worth repeating.

I was just thinking... If meta Hattie really wanted to screw with Rayford's head, she could have sat through the apology part, nodded politely and said
"cool. Got it. Tell you what, I'm horny, let's go F@ck."
Insert Rayford's look of slack jawed incomprehension as his mental train came skidding off the rails and smashed through the front of his head.
"No? Ah well. It was a good flirt over the years wasn't it. No need to apologize. Anyway, I have to run, I've got an appointment with my friend to explain why I must follow the noble path of the Buddah. I don't know, it's important he says, otherwise I might get disappeared too."
"But I have to tell you about my theory."
"I'm sure it's very nice, but I have to run now. Take care."
"Hattie, this is important!"
"Yes didums, whatever you say. Draw a picture, we'll put it on the fridge."
"I... thought you cared..."
"Yes, funny how much we're learning about each other this afternoon isn't it."
"Why are you making this so hard on me?"
"I'm so sorry, you're not enjoying yourself? I need you to forgive me."
"Hattie, this isn't what I was planning?"
"I SAID, I need you to forgive me. Well?"
"Yes, of course, I forgive you, but."
"Well! We're all square then! Thanks, you've been a peach. Must run."
Hattie pecks him on the forehead and heads out to call some girlfriends for a drink or three.

[hagsrus]

About the crowns in heaven, one of the prequel books say that you don't even get to keep them: you have to throw them back at God's feet.

Is this what" casting down their golden crowns around the glassy sea" refers to? I never really thought about it before. And which glassy sea?

(Remembered from morning prayers at school in England, which didn't seem to have much influence on anyone's belief or lack thereof, but at least established familiarity with King James and, to some extent, Cranmer.)

[Ecks]

Praline: His motive in hugging her wouldn't be sensual, but the experience would inevitably have some sensual element of it.

No, I don't think this is true. There are circumstances in which a red blooded hetero male can hug an attractive woman and have there be nothing sensual about it at all. See for instance under: Sisters, hugging of. I know there have been other times... I've hugged attractive female friends when they were highly distressed (relatives dying, etc), and there was nothing the least bit sensual about it. In this circumstance (and I resent you for making me defend LB here), it MIGHT not be sensual for Rayford, but it would certainly be a situation where outside observers (especially her) would likely INTERPRET it as such... here they are talking about attractions to each other, etc.

I really liked some of your other posts on forgiveness, though. I've done my share of stupid things over the years, but you're really making me dredge up and reevaluate one from a few years ago where I found myself apologising and justifying myself at length over something that was probably a misunderstanding (probably, but even now I have fresh doubts)... But looking at it from the apologizers point of view, it was a very complicated, chaotic mess, and any observer viewing how I behaved probably wouldn't have been impressed. You're trying to work out in your own head what's going on, where it went wrong (did I REALLY mess up? Is it these extenuating things about her that would make her misinterpret thing thing that nobody else would? If I knew about these things, should I have foreseen them and been more on guard? Is she understanding what I meant better than *I* understood what I meant?!?), and also to smooth out the damage, take responsibility for what you should (but what part of this AM I responsible for?), clarify elsewhere... and at the same time there's a mental backdrop of not wanting to think of yourself poorly, and not wanting THEM to think poorly of you... And every time you have a new thought about it, you want to share it immediately, because it seems like a breakthrough, till the next thought comes along, which may or may not invalidate the last one... I think it ended up being one of the biggest interpersonal train wrecks of my life.

All of which isn't to say that Rayford isn't a jerk - he's clearly totally self-absorbed here, and not really thinking about Hattie at all. Guilty on all fronts. I'm just inclined to cut him a little slack in that the position he's in is not an easy one to deal with. If L&J think he's being a model citizen here they are surely as hell mistaken, but it does seem like a reasonably realistic way for a conflicted and confused human to behave. It seems through the novel so far he's never known quite exactly what he wanted, and even now he's not exactly at the transcendental level of awareness he thinks he is, and so is causing yet more collateral damage.

[Cyllan]

If L&J think he's being a model citizen here they are surely as hell mistaken, but it does seem like a reasonably realistic way for a conflicted and confused human to behave.

I don't know. I still think the whole "sit still, be quiet, I'll tell you when you can break your silence" thing is really creepy and just off somehow. There's conflicted and confused and then there's domineering jerk.

[Caravelle]

I was just thinking... If meta Hattie really wanted to screw with Rayford's head, she could have sat through the apology part, nodded politely and said
"cool. Got it. Tell you what, I'm horny, let's go F@ck."
Insert Rayford's look of slack jawed incomprehension as his mental train came skidding off the rails and smashed through the front of his head.
"No? Ah well. It was a good flirt over the years wasn't it. No need to apologize. Anyway, I have to run, I've got an appointment with my friend to explain why I must follow the noble path of the Buddah. I don't know, it's important he says, otherwise I might get disappeared too."
"But I have to tell you about my theory."
"I'm sure it's very nice, but I have to run now. Take care."
"Hattie, this is important!"
"Yes didums, whatever you say. Draw a picture, we'll put it on the fridge."
"I... thought you cared..."
"Yes, funny how much we're learning about each other this afternoon isn't it."
"Why are you making this so hard on me?"
"I'm so sorry, you're not enjoying yourself? I need you to forgive me."
"Hattie, this isn't what I was planning?"
"I SAID, I need you to forgive me. Well?"
"Yes, of course, I forgive you, but."

I was with you up to that point. I'm sorry, I really don't see Rayford "forgiving" Hattie, or even saying he does. Remember, he's way too self-absorbed to notice or aknowledge he's doing anything wrong. From his point of view, Hattie is just thwarting him through foolishness or malice.

I'd have put :
"I SAID, I need you to forgive me. Well?"
"Hattie, you don't UNDERSTAND !"
Rayford put his hands on her shoulders to stop her. Hattie froze, and her tone grew icy.
"Rayford, get your hands off me right this second."
"Not until you've heard me ou-"
Rayford doubled up in pain as Hattie kicked him in the nuts and walked away.

Okay, that didn't work out quite the way I wanted...

[Tehanu]

Praline is fast becoming one of my favourite Slacktivist posters. *applauds*

Posted by: Nenya | Dec 15, 2007 at 02:47 PM

Me too. Praline, that was a great post.

[Drak Pope]

I was with you up to that point. I'm sorry, I really don't see Rayford "forgiving" Hattie, or even saying he does. Remember, he's way too self-absorbed to notice or aknowledge he's doing anything wrong. From his point of view, Hattie is just thwarting him through foolishness or malice.

Rayford will say anything as long as he fulfills his Christian geas to spread the End Times message to everyone he knows. I'm sure if Hattie had asked him for sex, he would have gone along with it, hoping that one rapture might help her understand the other Rapture a lot better. Remember, he's Nicolae Christ's puppet now.

[no]

I still think the whole "sit still, be quiet, I'll tell you when you can break your silence" thing is really creepy and just off somehow. There's conflicted and confused and then there's domineering jerk.

for me, it's way more than 'just off'. the whole vibe of the thing is literally the most repulsive part of the whole book so far.

if i were Hattie, Rayford would be bleeding before he even got to start his spiel.

er.

granted, i may be dealing with some issues of my own, here.

[Jon]

@Ecks: Thanks for the Right Behind info - how to post there was going to be my first question if/when I finished it. No movement on it so far - too fried from having just gone back to work this past week after being laid off two months ago. It takes a lot out of you to get back into the swing of things after an extended "vacation."

[Ecks]

I don't know. I still think the whole "sit still, be quiet, I'll tell you when you can break your silence" thing is really creepy and just off somehow. There's conflicted and confused and then there's domineering jerk.

Excellent point. Let me ammend: He's conflicted and confused, with a reflexively authoritarian "I should be the one in charge here" take on the world. Lousy combination that produces lousy human beings. Or in his case, human fakes.

"Yes, of course, I forgive you, but."
I was with you up to that point. I'm sorry, I really don't see Rayford "forgiving" Hattie, or even saying he does. Remember, he's way too self-absorbed to notice or aknowledge he's doing anything wrong.

Oh, I don't see him MEANING it in the least. I would see it as either a totally perfunctory "you want me to say 'lemon' before the coversation continues, fine, lemon. Now what I'm saying is..."... Either that or saying with a sarcastic edge. "Yeah, ok, I *forgive* you. But..."

The fawning submission to authority in the guise of 'peacemaking'. "Jesus wants you to forgive your husband's adultery just like he did" BS.

Ya, there's two ways to read it. One is the: "ok so he cheated on you, whatever, he said sorry, give it up already." You're right, that's just creepy. The other way is "look, if you do want to forgive him then you ACTUALLY have to forgive him and mean it. Which means it isn't just put under the bridge till next time you're looking for amunition." That's actually a healthier way of looking at things. Assuming she is willing to forgive him (and that should NOT be a given), then the only way to do that it to genuinely let it go. In fact, I believe the term is "kitchen sinking." Couples get in a fight, and then every single thing they've ever done wrong is dredged up to attack them. It doesn't solve things, it just breeds ill will.

Anyway, the second example you linked to seemed really *very* reasonable to me. The third one had pretty bad overtones of "can you believe all these pastors leaving over conflict? We just need to teach them some tricks so they can whip their congregations back into line..." That was pretty damn creepy.

[Karen]

I like Ecks' view of apologies, although I'm inclined to agree with Scott that the organization he referenced is highly unlikely to hold to Ecks' position.

As I posted earlier, Rayford's apology reminds me entirely too much of what happens when one of my sons does something obnoxious to the other one. By happenstance, I spent quite a bit of time refereeing exactly that kind of fight this afternoon, and one brother tried to excuse his horrid behavior with "But I said I was sorry!!" He still spent the afternoon in his room with no toys.

[damnedyankee]

"Rayford doubled up in pain as Hattie kicked him in the nuts and walked away."

Okay, that didn't work out quite the way I wanted...

Works for me.

[sulis]

And now I have a mental image of a beauty pageant with only fundamentalist Christian evangelists competing...

"I'd like to thank God... and Christ Jesus... and the Holy Spirit... and I guess I'd like to thank God some more..."

@Tokyo
Close, but no cigarette. This type is addicted to "Just" prayer, as in:

"Lord, I'd Just like to thank God ... and Just thank His son, Jesus Christ ... and I'd Just like to thank the Holy Spirit [insert token glossolalia here] ... and I guess I'd Just like to thank God some more ..."

[Inquisitive Raven]

Rayford is unbelievable. The whole apology is about him. Not about how his wife's feelings would have been hurt by his betrayal. Not about being a lousy father to his children, mooning after colleagues while his wife struggled to raise them unaided. Not about how Hattie's feelings got jerked seven ways from Sunday. Not even about how bloody awkward it must have been for all their colleagues to witness this painful farrago all those years. No, Rayford is only interested in how it besmirches his view of himself, how regretful he is that he's dropped below his own standards. He doesn't care a curse about anyone else's feelings.

No wonder he doesn't need Hattie talking during the apology. The only wonder is that he needed her to be in the room at all. He isn't apologising to her, he's apologising to himself.

Well, especially in context of being a Gary Stu, he comes across as a complete narcissist. For a narcissist, it's all about them, never about anyone else. AS for why he needs Hattie, well, a narcissist needs someone for his Narcissistic Supply, i.e. someone to reflect his greatness. That's her function.

[Dahne]

Rayford will say anything as long as he fulfills his Christian geas to spread the End Times message to everyone he knows.

Jesus is Lelouche?

[Salamanda]

Eep!

Um, Victor?

Sorry! I wasn't meaning to insult. Really. All the "IT"s just brought a childhood book to mind. I really wasn't meaning anything else by it. Sorry to offend.

[Salamanda]

And as a followup to that apology, I didn't realize there was a Camazotz outside of A Wrinkle In Time. I learned something new today! :)

[DragonessEclectic]

Praline: "Agh! This man isn't HUMAN!"

Spalanzani: Robots. ROBOTS! All a bunch of goddam robots.

Hey! I write Transformers Fanfiction, and my characters are a lot more 'human' than this!

Long-time lurker, very rare poster. I've enjoyed Left Behind Fridays for quite some time now, and I find them very educational, both on theology, and How NOT to Write.

[Spalanzani]

"Robots. ROBOTS! All a bunch of goddam robots."
DragonessEclectic: "Hey! I write Transformers Fanfiction, and my characters are a lot more 'human' than this!"

Poorly made robots, then.

Salamanda: "All the "IT"s just brought a childhood book to mind."

The one with the Psammead?

[Jesurgislac]

I meant to try doing a Right Behind post about this once Fred had posted Part 2, but it's godawful stuff to read: I mean even worse than usual, because behind the bad writing, there is a truly humanly terrible situation.

Meantime, there was a link to one of my less-favourite Willie Nelson songs on Pandagon, and while I was listening to it (hey, "less favorite" is still Willie Nelson), it did occur to me that Rayford could have taken lessons from Willie on how to apologize and at least sound like he meant it: Maybe I didn't love you, Quite as often as I could have, Maybe I didn't treat you, Quite as good as I should have, If I made you feel second best, Girl I'm sorry I was blind, You were always on my mind, You were always on my mind.

Of course if Rayford said anything like that it would be creepy because you know he's insincere, whereas when Willie Nelson sings it you want to believe it. (I never heard Elvis Presley sing it, but given what Elvis sounded like on his best day, it was probably in the clear context of "Oh, I got found out: damn, still I want to get laid.")

But yeah. Inhuman. It's like Rayford really doesn't even know what an apology is supposed to be like. He's not even saying the right words.

[pepperjackcandy]

The other way is "look, if you do want to forgive him then you ACTUALLY have to forgive him and mean it. . . . . It doesn't solve things, it just breeds ill will.

That's how I saw it, too. Particularly since the conflict-advisor person advised that they see a counselor to help them.

[Nenya]

Close, but no cigarette. This type is addicted to "Just" prayer, as in:

"Lord, I'd Just like to thank God ... and Just thank His son, Jesus Christ ... and I'd Just like to thank the Holy Spirit [insert token glossolalia here] ... and I guess I'd Just like to thank God some more ..."

Sulis, I believe this is known as the prayer of the just.

*ducks thrown items*

[Praline]

One might argue that most automatic writing comes from lesser ethereal beings, that God hasn't written anything since he wrote the King James Version.

My experience of automatic writing - which I do quite a lot, and I'm a novelist - is that it lets thoughts creep in and inspirations flash up from parts of your brain that you don't habitually use. It's harder to be dishonest, and easier to realise something new. If you're a faithful person trying to write a scripture, automatic writing might very well make it easier for you to hear the voice of God in your own mind, because it's a form of meditation, but it wouldn't be like taking precise dictation.

On the other hand, you might just be hearing echoes in your own mind, fears bubbling up that have nothing to do with God.

[Praline]

Ecks: No, I don't think this is true. There are circumstances in which a red blooded hetero male can hug an attractive woman and have there be nothing sensual about it at all. See for instance under: Sisters, hugging of. I know there have been other times... I've hugged attractive female friends when they were highly distressed (relatives dying, etc), and there was nothing the least bit sensual about it. In this circumstance (and I resent you for making me defend LB here), it MIGHT not be sensual for Rayford, but it would certainly be a situation where outside observers (especially her) would likely INTERPRET it as such... here they are talking about attractions to each other, etc.

I'm sorry. I need to know you forgive me. :-)

Yes, point taken: I was over-generalising. As Rayford had previously been attracted to Hattie, I still think that the 'nothing sensual' smacks of denial, though. It's not as if he really cares about her feelings. She's never been more than a notch on the fantasy bedpost to him, or, latterly, a notch on the pocket Bible. I can well believe a man unsensually hugging a woman he doesn't find attractive, or being so busy relating to the woman as a human being that it distracts him from her physicality. I just don't think Rayford is that guy.

[Praline]

The one area of discomfort I had with the marriage-counselling thing was that the whole forgive-your-husband-like-God-has attitude risks implying that, if a husband cheats on his wife, and then they divorce, what destroyed the marriage is her refusal to forgive him. Which I think is unreasonable. His adultery destroyed the marriage; he just got it over with quickly, and she's the one still acting unhappy. You can't change the fact that he cheated, but you can try to change her anger about it - and then say she's the marriage-breaker if she won't or can't let the anger go. It smacks of scolding the child who's making an irritating racket crying more than the child who kicked her in the shins. Many of us have seen teachers do that, I fear, people being imperfect, but it's not a good attitude to sanctify.

And there's a fine line between promising not to use adultery against someone - 'It's your turn to wash the dishes, you cheating jerk!' - and promising never to bring it up again at all, which is what the pastor says God does. I can see that wife being stuck in a position where she's worried that her husband is attracted to another woman, wants to be reassured, and can too easily be smacked down for bringing up his adultery - which would inevitably be a factor, because she now knows he's capable of cheating on her. A man who was a two-timing dog might even use that defensively to keep his wife from calling him on subsequent adulteries. There's nothing in the story to suggest that this particular man was a two-timing dog, but such men do exist, and shouldn't be given ammo.

The real problem, I think, is that she's being asked to forgive her husband in the same way God does. But the poor woman isn't God. It's a central tenet of Christianity that God is perfect and humans imperfect; they can try to be better and look to God for help, but creating an expectation that she forgive in a God-like way is just unfair.

For one thing, God wasn't married to that man. His relationship to him was different, and will have different fall-outs. God, being eternal and omniscient, is bound to be more resilient than a two-timed wife. Maybe one reason why God forgives so well is that God can take whatever we dish out. People, on the other hand, have limits to what they can take.

I remember seeing a priest on TV counselling the father of James Bulger, (a toddler who was killed by two ten-year-olds in the UK some years ago). The priest was a good and gentle man, and one of the things that he suggested was that maybe you can't forgive, aren't ready to forgive, when the harm caused is still going on. Mr Bulger was finding it impossible to forgive his baby's killers - and the priest was forgiving him for that, just acknowledging that he was in too much pain for it to be possible, or even a fair thing to ask. The priest was so kind, it made me feel ashamed for judging angry people in the past.

There's the initial act - adultery, murder, whatever - and then there's the emotional reverberations that follow it. The fact that the inital act is over doesn't mean that the emotional fall-out is over, and until it is, maybe we shouldn't lean on people to forgive.

God is big and strong. Humans are fragile, and it's terribly harsh to suggest a person is a bad Christian because they have a breaking point.

To be fair to that story, it sounds as if there were problems in that marriage well before the adultery. The couple didn't sound as if they resolved conflicts in a way that pleased either of them, and that inevitably causes strain; adultery can be a breaking point in itself. I hope they worked it out.

Forgiveness is a wonderful thing. But, for my money, we need to exercise a lot of caution when calling for it in other people. It's not nearly as simple as it sounds, and demanding it simplistically can silence people who deserve to be heard. In the end, the only people we're entitled to command to be forgiving are ourselves.

[Praline]

The one area of discomfort I had with the marriage-counselling thing was that the whole forgive-your-husband-like-God-has attitude risks implying that, if a husband cheats on his wife, and then they divorce, what destroyed the marriage is her refusal to forgive him. Which I think is unreasonable. His adultery destroyed the marriage; he just got it over with quickly, and she's the one still acting unhappy. You can't change the fact that he cheated, but you can try to change her anger about it - and then say she's the marriage-breaker if she won't or can't let the anger go. It smacks of scolding the child who's making an irritating racket crying more than the child who kicked her in the shins. Many of us have seen teachers do that, I fear, people being imperfect, but it's not a good attitude to sanctify.

And there's a fine line between promising not to use adultery against someone - 'It's your turn to wash the dishes, you cheating jerk!' - and promising never to bring it up again at all, which is what the pastor says God does. I can see that wife being stuck in a position where she's worried that her husband is attracted to another woman, wants to be reassured, and can too easily be smacked down for bringing up his adultery - which would inevitably be a factor, because she now knows he's capable of cheating on her. A man who was a two-timing dog might even use that defensively to keep his wife from calling him on subsequent adulteries. There's nothing in the story to suggest that this particular man was a two-timing dog, but such men do exist, and shouldn't be given ammo.

The real problem, I think, is that she's being asked to forgive her husband in the same way God does. But the poor woman isn't God. It's a central tenet of Christianity that God is perfect and humans imperfect; they can try to be better and look to God for help, but creating an expectation that she forgive in a God-like way is just unfair.

For one thing, God wasn't married to that man. His relationship to him was different, and will have different fall-outs. God, being eternal and omniscient, is bound to be more resilient than a two-timed wife. Maybe one reason why God forgives so well is that God can take whatever we dish out. People, on the other hand, have limits to what they can take.

I remember seeing a priest on TV counselling the father of James Bulger, (a toddler who was killed by two ten-year-olds in the UK some years ago). The priest was a good and gentle man, and one of the things that he suggested was that maybe you can't forgive, aren't ready to forgive, when the harm caused is still going on. Mr Bulger was finding it impossible to forgive his baby's killers - and the priest was forgiving him for that, just acknowledging that he was in too much pain for it to be possible, or even a fair thing to ask. The priest was so kind, it made me feel ashamed for judging angry people in the past.

There's the initial act - adultery, murder, whatever - and then there's the emotional reverberations that follow it. The fact that the inital act is over doesn't mean that the emotional fall-out is over, and until it is, maybe we shouldn't lean on people to forgive.

God is big and strong. Humans are fragile, and it's terribly harsh to suggest a person is a bad Christian because they have a breaking point.

To be fair to that story, it sounds as if there were problems in that marriage well before the adultery. The couple didn't sound as if they resolved conflicts in a way that pleased either of them, and that inevitably causes strain; adultery can be a breaking point in itself. I hope they worked it out.

Forgiveness is a wonderful thing. But, for my money, we need to exercise a lot of caution when calling for it in other people. It's not nearly as simple as it sounds, and demanding it simplistically can silence people who deserve to be heard. In the end, the only people we're entitled to command to be forgiving are ourselves.

[Praline]

The one area of discomfort I had with the marriage-counselling thing was that the whole forgive-your-husband-like-God-has attitude risks implying that, if a husband cheats on his wife, and then they divorce, what destroyed the marriage is her refusal to forgive him. Which I think is unreasonable. His adultery destroyed the marriage; he just got it over with quickly, and she's the one still acting unhappy. You can't change the fact that he cheated, but you can try to change her anger about it - and then say she's the marriage-breaker if she won't or can't let the anger go. It smacks of scolding the child who's making an irritating racket crying more than the child who kicked her in the shins. Many of us have seen teachers do that, I fear, people being imperfect, but it's not a good attitude to sanctify.

And there's a fine line between promising not to use adultery against someone - 'It's your turn to wash the dishes, you cheating jerk!' - and promising never to bring it up again at all, which is what the pastor says God does. I can see that wife being stuck in a position where she's worried that her husband is attracted to another woman, wants to be reassured, and can too easily be smacked down for bringing up his adultery - which would inevitably be a factor, because she now knows he's capable of cheating on her. A man who was a two-timing dog might even use that defensively to keep his wife from calling him on subsequent adulteries. There's nothing in the story to suggest that this particular man was a two-timing dog, but such men do exist, and shouldn't be given ammo.

The real problem, I think, is that she's being asked to forgive her husband in the same way God does. But the poor woman isn't God. It's a central tenet of Christianity that God is perfect and humans imperfect; they can try to be better and look to God for help, but creating an expectation that she forgive in a God-like way is just unfair.

For one thing, God wasn't married to that man. His relationship to him was different, and will have different fall-outs. God, being eternal and omniscient, is bound to be more resilient than a two-timed wife. Maybe one reason why God forgives so well is that God can take whatever we dish out. People, on the other hand, have limits to what they can take.

I remember seeing a priest on TV counselling the father of James Bulger, (a toddler who was killed by two ten-year-olds in the UK some years ago). The priest was a good and gentle man, and one of the things that he suggested was that maybe you can't forgive, aren't ready to forgive, when the harm caused is still going on. Mr Bulger was finding it impossible to forgive his baby's killers - and the priest was forgiving him for that, just acknowledging that he was in too much pain for it to be possible, or even a fair thing to ask. The priest was so kind, it made me feel ashamed for judging angry people in the past.

There's the initial act - adultery, murder, whatever - and then there's the emotional reverberations that follow it. The fact that the inital act is over doesn't mean that the emotional fall-out is over, and until it is, maybe we shouldn't lean on people to forgive.

God is big and strong. Humans are fragile, and it's terribly harsh to suggest a person is a bad Christian because they have a breaking point.

To be fair to that story, it sounds as if there were problems in that marriage well before the adultery. The couple didn't sound as if they resolved conflicts in a way that pleased either of them, and that inevitably causes strain; adultery can be a breaking point in itself. I hope they worked it out.

Forgiveness is a wonderful thing. But, for my money, we need to exercise a lot of caution when calling for it in other people. It's not nearly as simple as it sounds, and demanding it simplistically can silence people who deserve to be heard. In the end, the only people we're entitled to command to be forgiving are ourselves.

[Praline, who keeps getting told this post is spam, mysteriously]

The one area of discomfort I had with the marriage-counselling thing was that the whole forgive-your-husband-like-God-has attitude risks implying that, if a husband cheats on his wife, and then they divorce, what destroyed the marriage is her refusal to forgive him. Which I think is unreasonable. His adultery destroyed the marriage; he just got it over with quickly, and she's the one still acting unhappy. You can't change the fact that he cheated, but you can try to change her anger about it - and then say she's the marriage-breaker if she won't or can't let the anger go. It smacks of scolding the child who's making an irritating racket crying more than the child who kicked her in the shins. Many of us have seen teachers do that, I fear, people being imperfect, but it's not a good attitude to sanctify.

And there's a fine line between promising not to use adultery against someone - 'It's your turn to wash the dishes, you cheating jerk!' - and promising never to bring it up again at all, which is what the pastor says God does. I can see that wife being stuck in a position where she's worried that her husband is attracted to another woman, wants to be reassured, and can too easily be smacked down for bringing up his adultery - which would inevitably be a factor, because she now knows he's capable of cheating on her. A man who was a two-timing dog might even use that defensively to keep his wife from calling him on subsequent adulteries. There's nothing in the story to suggest that this particular man was a two-timing dog, but such men do exist, and shouldn't be given ammo.

The real problem, I think, is that she's being asked to forgive her husband in the same way God does. But the poor woman isn't God. It's a central tenet of Christianity that God is perfect and humans imperfect; they can try to be better and look to God for help, but creating an expectation that she forgive in a God-like way is just unfair.

For one thing, God wasn't married to that man. His relationship to him was different, and will have different fall-outs. God, being eternal and omniscient, is bound to be more resilient than a two-timed wife. Maybe one reason why God forgives so well is that God can take whatever we dish out. People, on the other hand, have limits to what they can take.

I remember seeing a priest on TV counselling the father of James Bulger, (a toddler who was killed by two ten-year-olds in the UK some years ago). The priest was a good and gentle man, and one of the things that he suggested was that maybe you can't forgive, aren't ready to forgive, when the harm caused is still going on. Mr Bulger was finding it impossible to forgive his baby's killers - and the priest was forgiving him for that, just acknowledging that he was in too much pain for it to be possible, or even a fair thing to ask. The priest was so kind, it made me feel ashamed for judging angry people in the past.

There's the initial act - adultery, murder, whatever - and then there's the emotional reverberations that follow it. The fact that the inital act is over doesn't mean that the emotional fall-out is over, and until it is, maybe we shouldn't lean on people to forgive.

God is big and strong. Humans are fragile, and it's terribly harsh to suggest a person is a bad Christian because they have a breaking point.

To be fair to that story, it sounds as if there were problems in that marriage well before the adultery. The couple didn't sound as if they resolved conflicts in a way that pleased either of them, and that inevitably causes strain; adultery can be a breaking point in itself. I hope they worked it out.

Forgiveness is a wonderful thing. But, for my money, we need to exercise a lot of caution when calling for it in other people. It's not nearly as simple as it sounds, and demanding it simplistically can silence people who deserve to be heard. In the end, the only people we're entitled to command to be forgiving are ourselves.

[Praline, who keeps getting told this post is spam, mysteriously]

The one area of discomfort I had with the marriage-counselling thing was that the whole forgive-your-husband-like-God-has attitude risks implying that, if a husband cheats on his wife, and then they divorce, what destroyed the marriage is her refusal to forgive him. Which I think is unreasonable. His adultery destroyed the marriage; he just got it over with quickly, and she's the one still acting unhappy. You can't change the fact that he cheated, but you can try to change her anger about it - and then say she's the marriage-breaker if she won't or can't let the anger go. It smacks of scolding the child who's making an irritating racket crying more than the child who kicked her in the shins. Many of us have seen teachers do that, I fear, people being imperfect, but it's not a good attitude to sanctify.

And there's a fine line between promising not to use adultery against someone - 'It's your turn to wash the dishes, you cheating jerk!' - and promising never to bring it up again at all, which is what the pastor says God does. I can see that wife being stuck in a position where she's worried that her husband is attracted to another woman, wants to be reassured, and can too easily be smacked down for bringing up his adultery - which would inevitably be a factor, because she now knows he's capable of cheating on her. A man who was a two-timing dog might even use that defensively to keep his wife from calling him on subsequent adulteries. There's nothing in the story to suggest that this particular man was a two-timing dog, but such men do exist, and shouldn't be given ammo.

The real problem, I think, is that she's being asked to forgive her husband in the same way God does. But the poor woman isn't God. It's a central tenet of Christianity that God is perfect and humans imperfect; they can try to be better and look to God for help, but creating an expectation that she forgive in a God-like way is just unfair.

For one thing, God wasn't married to that man. His relationship to him was different, and will have different fall-outs. God, being eternal and omniscient, is bound to be more resilient than a two-timed wife. Maybe one reason why God forgives so well is that God can take whatever we dish out. People, on the other hand, have limits to what they can take.

I remember seeing a priest on TV counselling the father of James Bulger, (a toddler who was killed by two ten-year-olds in the UK some years ago). The priest was a good and gentle man, and one of the things that he suggested was that maybe you can't forgive, aren't ready to forgive, when the harm caused is still going on. Mr Bulger was finding it impossible to forgive his baby's killers - and the priest was forgiving him for that, just acknowledging that he was in too much pain for it to be possible, or even a fair thing to ask. The priest was so kind, it made me feel ashamed for judging angry people in the past.

There's the initial act - adultery, murder, whatever - and then there's the emotional reverberations that follow it. The fact that the inital act is over doesn't mean that the emotional fall-out is over, and until it is, maybe we shouldn't lean on people to forgive.

God is big and strong. Humans are fragile, and it's terribly harsh to suggest a person is a bad Christian because they have a breaking point.

To be fair to that story, it sounds as if there were problems in that marriage well before the adultery. The couple didn't sound as if they resolved conflicts in a way that pleased either of them, and that inevitably causes strain; adultery can be a breaking point in itself. I hope they worked it out.

Forgiveness is a wonderful thing. But, for my money, we need to exercise a lot of caution when calling for it in other people. It's not nearly as simple as it sounds, and demanding it simplistically can silence people who deserve to be heard. In the end, the only people we're entitled to command to be forgiving are ourselves.

[Praline, who keeps getting told this post is spam, mysteriously]

The one area of discomfort I had with the marriage-counselling thing was that the whole forgive-your-husband-like-God-has attitude risks implying that, if a husband cheats on his wife, and then they divorce, what destroyed the marriage is her refusal to forgive him. Which I think is unreasonable. His adultery destroyed the marriage; he just got it over with quickly, and she's the one still acting unhappy. You can't change the fact that he cheated, but you can try to change her anger about it - and then say she's the marriage-breaker if she won't or can't let the anger go. It smacks of scolding the child who's making an irritating racket crying more than the child who kicked her in the shins. Many of us have seen teachers do that, I fear, people being imperfect, but it's not a good attitude to sanctify.

And there's a fine line between promising not to use adultery against someone - 'It's your turn to wash the dishes, you cheating jerk!' - and promising never to bring it up again at all, which is what the pastor says God does. I can see that wife being stuck in a position where she's worried that her husband is attracted to another woman, wants to be reassured, and can too easily be smacked down for bringing up his adultery - which would inevitably be a factor, because she now knows he's capable of cheating on her. A man who was a two-timing dog might even use that defensively to keep his wife from calling him on subsequent adulteries. There's nothing in the story to suggest that this particular man was a two-timing dog, but such men do exist, and shouldn't be given ammo.

The real problem, I think, is that she's being asked to forgive her husband in the same way God does. But the poor woman isn't God. It's a central tenet of Christianity that God is perfect and humans imperfect; they can try to be better and look to God for help, but creating an expectation that she forgive in a God-like way is just unfair.

For one thing, God wasn't married to that man. His relationship to him was different, and will have different fall-outs. God, being eternal and omniscient, is bound to be more resilient than a two-timed wife. Maybe one reason why God forgives so well is that God can take whatever we dish out. People, on the other hand, have limits to what they can take.

I remember seeing a priest on TV counselling the father of James Bulger, (a toddler who was killed by two ten-year-olds in the UK some years ago). The priest was a good and gentle man, and one of the things that he suggested was that maybe you can't forgive, aren't ready to forgive, when the harm caused is still going on. Mr Bulger was finding it impossible to forgive his baby's killers - and the priest was forgiving him for that, just acknowledging that he was in too much pain for it to be possible, or even a fair thing to ask. The priest was so kind, it made me feel ashamed for judging angry people in the past.

There's the initial act - adultery, murder, whatever - and then there's the emotional reverberations that follow it. The fact that the initial act is over doesn't mean that the emotional fall-out is over, and until it is, maybe we shouldn't lean on people to forgive.

God is big and strong. Humans are fragile, and it's terribly harsh to suggest a person is a bad Christian because they have a breaking point.

To be fair to that story, it sounds as if there were problems in that marriage well before the adultery. The couple didn't sound as if they resolved conflicts in a way that pleased either of them, and that inevitably causes strain; adultery can be a breaking point in itself. I hope they worked it out.

Forgiveness is a wonderful thing. But, for my money, we need to exercise a lot of caution when calling for it in other people. It's not nearly as simple as it sounds, and demanding it simplistically can silence people who deserve to be heard. In the end, the only people we're entitled to command to be forgiving are ourselves.

[Praline]

I keep getting told a comment I'm trying to post is spam. Will this one get through?...

[Praline]

Let's try it again:

The one area of discomfort I had with the marriage-counselling thing was that the whole forgive-your-husband-like-God-has attitude risks implying that, if a husband cheats on his wife, and then they divorce, what destroyed the marriage is her refusal to forgive him. Which I think is unreasonable. His adultery destroyed the marriage; he just got it over with quickly, and she's the one still acting unhappy. You can't change the fact that he cheated, but you can try to change her anger about it - and then say she's the marriage-breaker if she won't or can't let the anger go. It smacks of scolding the child who's making an irritating racket crying more than the child who kicked her in the shins. Many of us have seen teachers do that, I fear, people being imperfect, but it's not a good attitude to sanctify.

And there's a fine line between promising not to use adultery against someone - 'It's your turn to wash the dishes, you cheating jerk!' - and promising never to bring it up again at all, which is what the pastor says God does. I can see that wife being stuck in a position where she's worried that her husband is attracted to another woman, wants to be reassured, and can too easily be smacked down for bringing up his adultery - which would inevitably be a factor, because she now knows he's capable of cheating on her. A man who was a two-timing dog might even use that defensively to keep his wife from calling him on subsequent adulteries. There's nothing in the story to suggest that this particular man was a two-timing dog, but such men do exist, and shouldn't be given ammo.

The real problem, I think, is that she's being asked to forgive her husband in the same way God does. But the poor woman isn't God. It's a central tenet of Christianity that God is perfect and humans imperfect; they can try to be better and look to God for help, but creating an expectation that she forgive in a God-like way is just unfair.

For one thing, God wasn't married to that man. His relationship to him was different, and will have different fall-outs. God, being eternal and omniscient, is bound to be more resilient than a two-timed wife. Maybe one reason why God forgives so well is that God can take whatever we dish out. People, on the other hand, have limits to what they can take.

I remember seeing a priest on TV counselling the father of James Bulger, (a toddler who was killed by two ten-year-olds in the UK some years ago). The priest was a good and gentle man, and one of the things that he suggested was that maybe you can't forgive, aren't ready to forgive, when the harm caused is still going on. Mr Bulger was finding it impossible to forgive his baby's killers - and the priest was forgiving him for that, just acknowledging that he was in too much pain for it to be possible, or even a fair thing to ask. The priest was so kind, it made me feel ashamed for judging angry people in the past.

There's the initial act - adultery, murder, whatever - and then there's the emotional reverberations that follow it. The fact that the initial act is over doesn't mean that the emotional fall-out is over, and until it is, maybe we shouldn't lean on people to forgive.

God is big and strong. Humans are fragile, and it's terribly harsh to suggest a person is a bad Christian because they have a breaking point.

To be fair to that story, it sounds as if there were problems in that marriage well before the adultery. The couple didn't sound as if they resolved conflicts in a way that pleased either of them, and that inevitably causes strain; adultery can be a breaking point in itself. I hope they worked it out.

Forgiveness is a wonderful thing. But, for my money, we need to exercise a lot of caution when calling for it in other people. It's not nearly as simple as it sounds, and demanding it simplistically can silence people who deserve to be heard. In the end, the only people we're entitled to command to be forgiving are ourselves.

[Praline]

Let's try it again

There was one area of discomfort I had with the marriage-counselling story. The whole forgive-your-husband-like-God-has attitude risk implying that, if a husband cheats on his wife, she won't forgive him and they divorce, what destroyed the marriage was her refusal to forgive. That's not reasonable. His adultery destroyed the marriage; he just got it over with quickly, and she's the one still acting unhappy. You can't change the fact that he cheated, but you can change whether she's angry - or try to. In that situation, it's easy to call her the marriage-breaker, because she's the one saying 'no, I can't reconcile'. But the whole thing smacks of scolding the child who's making an irritating racket crying more than the child who kicked her in the shins. Many of us have seen teachers or parents do something similar, I'm sure, people being imperfect, but it's not a good attitude to sanctify.

And there's a fine line between promising not to use adultery against someone - 'it's your turn to wash up, and don't argue with me when you're a low-dog cheating dog!' - and promising never to bring it up again, which is what the pastor says God does. I can see that wife being stuck in a position where she's worried her husband is attracted to someone else, wants reassurance, and can far to easily be smacked down for bringing up his adultery. But in that situation, the adultery would be a factor, because she now knows he's capable of cheating on her. A man who was a two-timing dog might even use that defensively to keep his wife from calling him on subsequent adulteries. There's nothing in the story to suggest that this particular man was a louse of that breed, but such men do exist, and should not be given ammo.

The real problem, I think, is that she's being asked to forgive her husband in the same way God does. But the poor woman isn't God. It's a central tenet of Christianity that God is perfect and humans imperfect; they can try to be better and look to God for help, but creating an expectation that she forgive him in a God-like way is just unfair.

For one thing, God wasn't married to that man. God, in fact, is big, strong, eternal, enduring and omnipotent. Hence, God has a vastly superior resilience to pain than human beings. Maybe one reason why God forgives so well is that God can take whatever we sinners dish out.

It's terribly harsh, though, to call someone a bad Christian when all they may be suffering from is a breaking point.

I recall some years ago seeing a priest on TV counselling the father of James Bulger (a toddler who was killed by two ten-year-old boys in the UK, a tragic story). The priest was a good and gentle man, and one of the things he suggested was that maybe you can't forgive, aren't ready to forgive, when the harm caused is still going on. Mr Bulger was finding it impossible to forgive his baby's killers because he was still hurting too badly - and the priest was forgiving him for that, just acknowledging that he was in too much pain for it to be possible, or even a fair thing to ask. The priest was so kind, it made me feel ashamed of judging angry people in the past.

There's the initial act - adultery, murder, whatever - and then there's the emotional reverberations that follow it. The fact that the act is over doesn't mean that the aftershocks are, and until then, maybe we shouldn't lean on people to forgive.

In fairness to that story, it sounds as if there were problems in that marriage before the adultery; the couple seemed not to have a way of resolving conflicts that pleased either of them, and that inevitably causes strain. Adultery can be a breaking point in itself. I hope whatever happened, they're happy now.

Forgiveness is a wonderful thing. But, for my part, I think we need to exercise a lot of caution when calling for it in other people. It's not nearly as simple as it sounds, and demanding it simplistically can silence people who deserve to be heard. In the end, forgiveness is a private decision, and the only people we can demand it from are ourselves.

[Caravelle]

Oh, I don't see him MEANING it in the least. I would see it as either a totally perfunctory "you want me to say 'lemon' before the coversation continues, fine, lemon. Now what I'm saying is..."... Either that or saying with a sarcastic edge. "Yeah, ok, I *forgive* you. But..."

Yeah, that's how I saw it... I meant that even then I didn't see it ("Why does this unreasonable woman want me to say 'lemon' ? I guess she's too stupid to understand, I'll have to speak louder").

Of course given he's a non-existent character (thankfully) (though it would seem people like him exist ?) I don't think it's a discussion that will go very far ^^

[McJulie]

I hate to admit this, but I think I sort of agree with Scott. Those first two stories were horrible tales of people who acted badly toward others and didn't learn a thing, but thought they did. (Although Scott should like the second one: a worker *not* claiming his rights against an employer.)

In fairness to that story, it sounds as if there were problems in that marriage before the adultery

There are *always* problems in a marriage before adultery. Unless it is pre-forgiven (polyamorous marriages, for example) adultery is a deliberate act of betrayal against the other partner.

Further, I strongly suspect the most common reason for the betrayal is that the adulterer wants out of the marriage but can't bring him/herself to just say so. Or maybe can't even admit it to him/herself. (Maybe because he/she is an evangelical Christian who thinks he/she doesn't believe in divorce?)

I hope whatever happened, they're happy now.

In fact, I strongly suspect they left the church, got divorced, and now are happy with other people.

You can *forgive* somebody for being a jerk without letting him stick around to continue being a jerk. I think it's entirely reasonable to say, "Sure, I forgive you, in the sense that I will not hold a grudge, or plot my revenge, or want bad things to happen to you. I'll be civil to you at parties. But I still don't trust you, and I want you out of my life."

[Jake]

I'm sure you meant no offense, McJulie, but I object to your characterization of polyamourous marriages as "pre-forgiven" adultery. If a person is behaving in a way that is within the bounds of their agreement, and is not hurting their spouse, then it's not "pre-forgiven" because there's nothing to forgive.

I only mention it because it's stuff like this that causes all sorts of misapprehensions about what polyamoury is about. Polyamoury is about living your life by a philosophy that the amount of love/affection/sex you have to give isn't necessarily limited to one person, not about being allowed to fuck around consciencelessly.

[Meta-Hattie]

The point of asking forgiveness for such men, it seems, is not actually to be forgiven. It's to ask. That way, you can tick the box that says 'Asked forgiveness' on your to-do list, admire yourself for completing the task, and consider the matter closed. If it makes no real amends in the eyes of the person you've hurt, that's their problem; you've done your bit, and that's all that counts....And remorse for what you've done to them, not for what you've done to your image of yourself as a good person.

Yes. Excellent post.

I don't intend to high-jack this thread with my tale of woe, but I continue to learn a lot about my own situation from Fred's posts and the comments here about the creepy Hattie-Rayford almost-affair.

I didn't post this bit earlier because I was too ashamed, but I'm afraid the parallels are more exact than I'd mentioned. This may be TMI so feel free to skip it...

My own RTC (also a coworker!) also wouldn't lower himself to have actual sex with me. His vow was flexible enough to allow phone sex and explicit emails and pictures, and jealousy whenever I met someone I might have the possibility of a an actual relationship with...but because he didn't have actual intercourse with me, he was still a shining beacon of purity. And a better person than me, of course, since I'm merely a lapsed Catholic.

After a time I realized the role I was playing in his psyche was more or less that of the Whore of Babylon.

But going back to Rayford and Hattie, I think the comments here about the creepy D/s subtext and Rayford's condescending attitude are all dead right. Fred's analysis of the dynamic from the very beginning has struck me as all too familiar.

When I ended things with this person, one of the things I pointed out was that for all his claims of faith, he confused mere physical monogamy with fidelity. I daresay a lot could be written about that aspect of a certain kind of confused RTC--it's yet another way in which they hew to an overly literal reading, which manages to be a deep perversion of the real values they claim to uphold.

[Praline]

You have my sincere sympathies, Meta-Hattie; it sounds awful. Though I realise I'm on shaky ground here, I think such a relationship might actually do more harm to the Hattie than a full-on affair, or at least, harm in different ways. (How it would harm the wife is another matter.) But a home-made-porn-affair is treating someone as completely worthless. You won't dignify the relationship with sex, but you still consider them at your disposal - while you, of course, are not at theirs. In effect, the person is a toy, not expected to have feelings or needs of their own; they don't get intimacy, just used. I suspect it's almost more embarrassing to say 'I had an almost-affair' than 'I had an affair' for the Hattie; you get all the guilt, but also the humiliation of rejection, because he didn't actually sleep with you. Worst of both worlds.

Not that I think it's morally right to have an affair, obviously. I just think phone sex counts as cheating, and demeans the mistress by treating her as a masturbation fantasy rather than a person you can have a relationship with, even an illicit one.

I sort of doubt the wife would be substantially less hurt if she found out either.

On the other hand, I suspect that it's a by-product of a church that insists on literal interpretations of the Bible. Literal-mindedness leads people to contort themselves in disastrous ways. I read, for instance, that a long-term study done by Yale and Columbia found that teens who had taken a virginity pledge were six times likely to do risky things like unprotected oral and anal sex - because it maintained their 'technical' virginity. It also tremendously increased their chances of transmitting AIDS, but that's collateral damage in the war of literalism on common sense. More kids get sick, but hey, at least they're virgins.

If you have a church that lays down absolute mandates that are in no way open to interpretation or context, then it's highly likely to encourage equally black and white thinking in its followers, at least when it comes to questions of morality. I'm personally not opposed to premarital sex, and I am opposed to adultery, but I think we're looking at the same phenomenon here: trying to avoid making a moral decision by wriggling round the definition. Which, if the church conflates 'holy' with 'inflexible', is too easy to do. The more rigid the system, the easier it is to game.

[Johnny Pez]

What we need now is a Right Behind story about Rayford, the unwitting Antichrist

With his opponent being the dashing southerner Nick Cascade, (whose rugged good looks & tiny hint of a drawl remind nearly everyone who meets him of a young Paul Newman) who manages to simultaneously destroy "The Pinnacle", Rayford's flying evil lair converted from a 747, and steal the formula that will transform the world's deserts into a bread basket, saving the world. Who else but soft spoken Nick could repair the heart of the battered Hattie after her terrifying ordeal as Rayford's [not]sex slave?

Done.

[Ecks]

I write Transformers Fanfiction

"I hate you" shouted Megatron
"You're always trying to rule the world," replied Optimus Prime. "Why don't you try ruling a world that's a little smaller that you can manage?" He put his hand on Megatron's shoulder. "You can rule my world."
"I... I don't know what to think." Megatron suddenly sobbed.
"My keep my axels greased. Let me prime your pumps."
"I hate... you" Megatron said, melting into his arms.

Nooo.... I think I'll stick to LB, or poking my eyeballs out with blunt pencils or something :)

[Tonio]

"I'd like to thank God... and Christ Jesus... and the Holy Spirit... and I guess I'd like to thank God some more..."

I had pictured the contestants sounding like airheads, because as fundamentalist women they must submit to the authority of their husbands and not have the merest trace of independent thought in their heads. They would all have Republic of Gilead names like Ofjohn and Offrank.

[A Texan in Bavaria]

Johnny Pez, you rule!

Others: go read, now!