I heard a podcast this week that raised the idea of moral sanctity, meaning there is value, nobility, and even peace in the fact that you have never done particular things (and further, that you’ve never even thought that particular things could be done). This contrasts with transactional morality, meaning that we consider some actions wrong and forbidden only because we perceive they have unwelcome consequences.
Perhaps you’ve heard of mock moral dilemmas as intellectual challenges. Someone asks, “Would you do this evil or that one, if you had to choose one of the two?” How do you rationalize the consequences of one action against the other? More transactionally, if you were in a room where no one could see you or know you were there, would you do this nasty thing for a dollar amount of your choice? If all moral choices are transactional, then we determine what is right and wrong after a bit of cost-benefit analysis. Plagiarism is good, if you don’t get caught, and even if you do, it may still be good enough to have attempted it. It’s up to you.
With the backing of moral sanctity, you can say no to both of the questions above. You don’t have to choose one evil over the other. Instead, you would attempt neither. You don’t have to name a dollar amount to outweigh the nastiness of doing some vice where no one can see you. You can choose instead the value of being able to say to yourself, if no one else, that you’ve never done such a thing.
And that touches on a truth secular society has ruled out. We are never alone. What we confess in private, we confess in God’s hearing. What we choose, we choose under God’s watch, and the consequences we earn from his hand cannot be sidestepped.
I’m probably out of my depth here, so I’ll move on.
More Rewriting: Not only is the Roald Dahl estate allowing the publisher to edit his books to avoid offending sensitive readers, the Ian Fleming estate is following suit. But R. L. Stine claims his publisher has gone behind his back to change his books. “Altering published works to conform to ever-shifting standards is more Orwellian than just banning them,” he said.
More Banning: Joel Miller talks about this subject in “What Else Can We Censor While We’re Here?” “When novelist Jane Smiley recently discovered a school district in Idaho banned her Pulitzer Prize-winning 1991 novel A Thousand Acres, she was thrilled. ‘Most authors know that banning books can increase sales, so here’s hoping,’ she said.”
Comic Books: Word on the street is that Marvel and DC are struggling to keep their readers and have or will reduce the number of printed comic books they produce. Some might say this is a case of Go Woke and Go Broke. Andrew Klavan had a short discussion about this with comic book author Mike Baron, who notes several writers that have been pushed out of the comic space for not toeing the current party line.
Poetry: Dream of the Rood
Wondrous was the victory-tree, and I was stained by sins, wounded with guilt; I saw the tree of glory honored in garments, shining with joys, bedecked with gold; gems had covered worthily the Creator’s tree. And yet beneath that gold I began to see an ancient wretched struggle, when it first began to bleed on the right side.
Eleanor Parker writes about this ancient poem for Plough. “The story it tells is shaped to resonate with an Anglo-Saxon audience. By imagining Christ as a warrior and the Cross as his loyal follower, it echoes the relationship found in poems like Beowulf, where the bond between a warrior and his men is invested with the most intense emotions of love and grief.”
Photo by Maxim Lugina on Unsplash
It makes me proud to be your co-blogger, when I see you spelling “toeing the line” properly. The other stuff’s good too.
Ha! Thank you.
Thank you for the Dream of the Rood quotation and link! (It’s been a while since I translated it in grad school!) Dr. Parker’s website, A Clerk of Oxford, is full of interesting posts (including more about this poem). And I’ve just been discovering older editions and translations of The Dream of the Rood in the Internet Archive.