No, Mr. Robertson, malakoi ≠ Homosexuals, (and neither does arsenokoitai)...Ancient Greek didn’t have a word for that

No, Mr. Robertson, malakoi ≠ homosexuals, (and neither does arsenokoitai)

Ancient Greek didn’t have a word for that

All the hoopla surrounding Phil Robertson’s unvarnished comments about homosexuality in a GQ interview have, more than anything, underscored the deep divide in US opinion regarding homosexuality.

A youth pastor penned one of the best responses I’ve seen, “What You Believe About Homosexuality Doesn’t Matter.”  He gets to the REAL moral point.  Our words might actually be the difference between life and death, especially for young gay teens.  Whatever one’s personal position, it’s an article worth reading for the reminder.  Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will break my heart…and could lead to my death from despair.

Next to that blog entry, mine is esoteric to pointlessness.  But as both Greek and church history are what I do, I want to discuss the translation of two Greek words in the quoted text from Corinthians.  Please follow me down the Rabbit Hole into Wonderland (called the past).

An unfortunate chasm exists between Greek history and Biblical studies.  Few Greek historians deal much with Biblical history, and few Biblical historians have an extensive background in either Greek history or contemporary Second Temple or later rabbinical literature (if any knowledge at all).  This chasm has narrowed in recent years, but still exists, and few (American) seminaries offer any classes (much less required ones) on Greek or Roman history and culture, even if they offer the Greek language…despite the fact that within a generation of Jesus’s life, most Christians were not Jews, and they brought their culture with them into Christianity.  (The Gospel of John and Paul’s own letters are evidence enough of that, as are the Epistle of Barnabas and various writings of the Church Fathers who came after.)

When translating from one language to another, there’s always some interpretation because no two languages are a complete match.  One-to-one translations are impossible.  When we add not just different languages, but 2000 years of history, it only compounds the problem.  In order to make the appropriate interpretative leap, one must have a good working knowledge of the cultures involved, not just the vocabulary of the languages.

In short, if one can read the Greek words but knows little-to-nothing about ancient Greek history or culture, reading the language is worthless.  Unfortunately, I know too many preachers and NT scholars to whom that applies.  They look up a word in Strong’s or Young’s Concordances and think they understand it.

No.  In the wonderful world of translating, one can spend literally pages justifying the translation of a single word (and not just in the Bible).

Hence, this blog post.

The whole matter erupted over Robertson paraphrasing of I Corinthians 6: 9-10, which lists sins that could keep one out of the Kingdom of Heaven.  Paul wrote this letter to the Greek church at Corinth, a hub of trade in his day, with a long, complicated history.*

The list itself is a bit jumbled, in that a bunch of different things are thrown into one pot, like a stew.  The Revised Standard Version (RSV) translates it so:

“Neither the immoral (pornoi), nor idolaters (eidōlolatrai), nor adulterers (moikhoi), nor sexual perverts (malakoi & arsenokoitai), nor thieves (kleptai), nor the greedy (pleonektai), nor drunkards (methusoi), nor revilers (loidoroi), nor robbers (arpages).”

The New Revised Standard Version (NSRV) separates “sexual perverts” into “nor male prostitutes, nor sodomites,” respecting the two Greek words malakoi (μαλακοί) and arsenokoitai (ἀρσενοκοῖται), whereas the original RSV bunched them together.  But despite the separation, I think the RSV more honest in the tendency of NT translators to interpret the two together (incorrectly, as I will show).

The New International Version (NIV), favored by many conservative Christians, has one slightly different English term from the NRSV: “homosexual offender” instead of “sodomite,” but clearly the same gist.

Common translations of both Greek words are problematic, but especially the translation of malakoi.  The only way one could get the translation "male prostitute" out of malakoi would be to walk into it with preconceptions.

That is BAD bad translating, and back-assward methodology.

We START WITH THE CONTEXT.  Always.  Not what we want to prove.  Instead, it looks like they started with their assumptions of what it meant (based on prior translations, such as the KJV), and simply failed to consider what it usually means, then assess the context carefully.

Argh!  The scholar in me practically froths at the mouth.

So I want to start there, with “malakoi,” or “malakos” in the singular, because its translation is—in my humble opinion—flat wrong.

Their translation assumes malakoi should be understood relative to the word behind it: arsenokoitai (more on that word in a bit).  BUT that assumes the list has an organized development…and it doesn’t.

If it were organized by sin “type,” then “fornicators” and “adulterers” would be back-to-back without “idolaters” in between, as should “greedy” and “robbers,” and “thieves,” yet those three are not in order, either.

In fact, Paul’s list doesn’t have an order, or coherent organization.  It’s just a collection of sins as he thinks of them that he’s telling the church at Corinth will keep them out of heaven.

That’s the context.  There is no order to the list.

Thus, translating “malakoi” as “male prostitute” in relation to the word after it (arsenokoitai) is a bit of a stretch.

In classical Greek, malakos does not usually mean “male prostitute.”  By the Hellenistic age, yes, it could mean that (like kinaidos), but it would be a somewhat specific, ideosyncratic translation that requires context…and I don’t think we have it here.  There’s a bunch of stuff in this list, half of which has no sexual overtones.  Ergo, assigning a sexual definition to malakoi—even coming before arsenokoitai—is plain blinkered presumption.  There are better (e.g., more typical) translations.

See, traditionally, malakos just means “soft” or “gentle.”  If one does a check of Liddell and Scott (even the “Great Scott”—the big, unabridged sucker), the definitions range:

In a good sense: soft, gentle, light, mild, slow, dainty, tender, youthful (also such things as a fresh-ploughed field, a soft fleece, etc.)

In a bad sense (as Paul would intend): soft, yielding, morally weak, lacking self-control, feeble, indulgent, weak in body, weak in reason, sickly, faint-hearted, effeminate, cowardly

Nowhere in that list do we find “male prostitute.”  Could it euphemistically mean that?  Sure.  But only in specific contexts. 

Truth is, I think “lacking self-control” or “cowardly” probably the best translation.

Self-control and moderation—the Golden Mean—were crucial to Greek notions of virtue.  “Everything in moderation,” (to quote Apollo).  We know Paul was strongly influenced by Greek philosophy.  In Galatians, he talks about “body, mind, and soul” which was a GREEK division of the human being (his comments there suggest a familiarity with Plato, which wouldn’t surprise for an educated person of his era).  This trifold view of human nature was not a traditionally Jewish view, which saw human beings as a body formed by God from the “dust of the ground,” then animated by ruha/ruach—the breath of God.  Other allusions to Greek philosophy thread his letters like bits of Tyrian purple thread.

In any case, to find Paul including “a person who lacks self-control” in a list of vices is not only not surprising, it’s downright predictable.  But I think “coward” would be an equally possible translation.  Both fit the era and culture…and don’t require a translation of malakos that would need a better contextual justification.

But, but!, you say—there IS effeminate in L&S’s list!  Surely that justifies the translation as a passive homosexual!

Er, no.

And here’s where it’s important not to confuse ancient Greek culture with modern American.

Popular assumption for at least some Americans is that gay men are womanish/want to be women/act more feminine.  This is incorrect, of course—but the point isn’t whether it’s right or wrong, but that a notable number of Americans assume it.  One can “tell” a gay man because he acts feminine.  This leads to the equation that liking traditionally feminine things is a sign that one is gay.

Problem.  The Greeks didn’t make that assumption.  Being womanish certainly was a bad thing in ancient Greek thinking, because women were seen as "less than men."  But the disconnect comes with the notion that men who have sex with men are womanish by definition.

In fact, the Greeks were more inclined to assume that completely heterosexual men, especially those who chased skirt (or peplos) constantly and spent too much time in the company of women instead of (properly) with men, would be womanish.

BOOM!

Not what you expected, huh?

Greek society was strongly gender-divided, even in the Hellenistic and Roman eras.  Men spent most of their time with other men, and women with other women.  Furthermore, malakos was the natural assumption made of women: soft, weak-willed, cowardly.  So a malakos male threw down his shield in combat and ran for his life (thus endangering his comrades in arms).  He couldn’t stand up for what counted.  That’s a major moral flaw.

So yes, effeminate certainly meant “like a woman,” but it did NOT designate who one preferred to have sex with.

THAT is where their assumptions and popular modern American assumptions DON’T MESH.

Greek sexual behavior generally assumed one went through stages throughout life, taking different roles at different points.  One didn’t switch roles as the mood struck.  Additionally, there was no conception of sexual “identity.”  That simply wasn’t a way the ancient Greeks defined themselves.  Who one had sex with was defined by social status and age, not by “orientation.”  To them, sex was a matter of choice, not inborn predisposition.  They didn’t even understand that concept, much less have a term for it.

In short, the ancient Greeks had no concept of “gay” in our modern sense.  And no word we can, today, translate cleanly as “homosexual.”

The stages of Greek sexual expression involved both same-sex and opposite-sex pairings, depending.  Ergo, men who preferred only one or the other were seen as, well, a little weird.

Greeks also tended to assume one was drawn to what one wanted to be: education/instruction being essential to same-sex pairings.  The younger partner learned from the elder, and strove to emulate him.  The Spartans made that abundantly clear in their unique terms for these pairs; the elder was the “inspirer,” the younger, the “hearer.”  Older Spartan lovers were encouraged to choose brave, physically tough boyfriends because if the boy proved cowardly or weak, the lover was punished!  Why?  He’d failed in his proper role as inspirer, or course.

But it wasn’t just Spartans.  Plato believed that love between a man and woman would be lesser because, well, women were naturally inferior, so it led to an inferior love.  Love between two men was best “naturally.”  Last, the Theban Sacred Band—one of the most fearsome fighting groups in the Classical Greek world—was composed of 150 pairs of pledged male lovers.

Hmmm.  Spartans and Theban Sacred Band members.  Not exactly the stuff of sissies, eh?

In contrast let me throw out Dionysos, fertility god of grove and vine, wine, theatre, and divine madness.  He’s routinely portrayed in artwork dressed in women’s clothing.  Furthermore, as time went on, his iconography moved from showing him in his 40s or 50s with a beard, to being young and feminine-looking, typically with long hair and no beard.  To most moderns, he would epitomize a “fairy,” and quite a few of my students just automatically assume he’s “gay.”

Wrong.

VERY wrong, in fact.

Dionysos is among the few male “Great Gods” who had virtually NO relations with men.**  None.  Nada.  (There’s one peculiar, rather late tale, but that’s it.)

Instead, the exceptionally beautiful Dionysos’s various lovers were women.  Even more, he remained loyal to his (mortal) wife Ariadne.  That may not have required much, as in most myths, she didn’t live long, but still.  It’s saying something, compared to the rampant philandering of Father Zeus, no?  Fidelity was not an assumed attribute of Greek husbands.  That Dionysos evinced it makes him odd.

By contrast, the more admirable masculine Greek gods had multiple lovers, including boys: Zeus, Poseidon, Apollo, Hermes.

Again, Hmmm.

Clearly their assumptions are not our assumptions.  Dionysos looks so feminine not because he’s gay, but because he’s consummately heterosexual and spent most of his time with women.  His chief worshipers were women (the maenads).  THAT’S why he’s portrayed as feminine, with typically “feminine” characteristics, among them an inability to evince self-control (in behavior, drink, or sex).  And THAT, folks, is “malakos.”

Wow.

Did you just say, “Wow,” because you should have. *grin*

You are who you have (too much) sex with?  We're back to what is restrained and "proper" for one's age and social class = appropriate moderation in all things.  E.g. … the Golden Mean.

In short, my point is that one could be “malakos” while being quite heterosexual.  There are places where the term is used to mean an especially effeminate (usually) boy in a sexual pair, but CONTEXT is required for that alternative translation.

Instead, the most common translation should be used: “coward” or “morally weak”—which would certainly have been regarded as a vice or sin.

Back to Greek assumptions about sexuality…which informed their language, and what words were available.  The usual pattern (at least for a man) was to be the eromenos (beloved, or younger member of a pair, presumed to be the passive partner) in youth up to roughly the time one could grow a beard, then to change to the erastes (lover, or older and “active” member of a pair), up till roughly 30, at which time one should be getting married and settling down to raise a family.

But nowhere in the New Testament are the terms eromenos or erastes used.  And not because they wouldn’t have been known to Paul (or other authors).  They are THE most common terms in Greek for members of a same-sex pair.  The most common.  If Paul or other authors wanted to talk about male lovers using Greek, these would be the natural words to use.  Not using them but meaning them would be a little like describing a singer as “that person who uses her voice in melody to convey a meaning.”

I mean…huh?

And that’s what the other word—arsenokotai—is a bit like.  Paul invented it.  It’s not found in Greek literature prior to its use here.  In fact, we can detail how he came up with it, as it’s the Greek verb used in Leviticus in the Septuagint, or Greek translation of the Hebrew Scriptures.  The Greek word “arsenokotein” means literally, “to sleep/lie with men.”  Paul makes it into a noun, which would translate then as “the male ones who have sex with men.”***

This is a really strange thing to do.  And I want to underscore that.  It’s what keeps getting left out of this damn discussion.

Why does Paul essentially invent a word when there are other words that he might have used and almost certainly would have known…unless he means something different?

THAT’S THE REAL QUESTION, to my mind.  He DIDN’T use erastes/eromenos, much less kinaidos and/or katapugos….  And if he were really referencing male prostitutes, he’d just USE the word for prostitute in the masculine: pornos.

But…but he DOES.  Look back at the list of terms from I Corinthians with the original Greek word.  The very first one listed is “pornoi,” typically translated in English Bibles as “fornicators,” or (as in the RSV) “sexually immoral.”  Yet pornai/pornoi is the usual term in Greek for a common prostitute (female or male).  That’s what Paul’s saying there: “prostitutes.”  Not just “sexually immoral” or “fornicators,” but PROSTITUTES.  (The masculine plural was used because, for them, as in English, masculine plural was gender neutral).  Pornoi could have a more general meaning, but given the list, why they didn’t translate it as “prostitutes, both male and female,” I don’t know.  That would, in my opinion, be the obvious translation.  One might also get away with “whore.”

I picked that because it’s symptomatic of the whole translation issue with Biblical texts.  The obvious or usual translation is sometimes ditched in favor of something that’s either peculiar or too broad, based on prior assumptions from previous translations.

So we should ask that bigger question: why does Paul use the word he does (arsenokoitai), and what does he really mean?  Why not use better/more recognizable terms?

This is a case where we should be asking about what’s NOT there, as much as what is there.

First, let me say that I don’t think we can get away from the idea that Paul IS condemning men who have sex with men.  Bluntly, that’s what the word means.  And he coined it specifically TO mean that.

The salient question, as noted, is why?

It may be because erastes and eromenos had overtones, or connotations, of actual affection.  Love.  The words didn’t have to mean that, but it was the underlying assumption, which is why we translate them as “lover” and “beloved.”  The Greeks used “eros” the same way we use love now, for a wide range of implications.  One could “love” (eros) a well-grilled piece of tuna just like we might say we “love” pizza.  We mean we desire it—and that’s what eros meant, too: love of the “desire” variety.  They viewed it akin to a physical illness (and talked about it so).  Ergo, eros was a flexible word, but the implication of emotional attachment was very much a part of the terms erastes and eromenos.

Arsenokotein (the verb behind arsenokoitai) is just sex.  No affection implied.

It might be nice to assume Paul was condoning sex between men when love was involved.  Certainly that’s his admonition when he talks about sex between husbands and wives: they should have affection for one another—which was NOT an automatic assumption about husbands and wives in the ancient world.  The more common assumption is articulated by the lawyer and popular Athenian demagogue Demosthenes: “For this is what living with a woman in marriage is: for a man to beget children by her and present his sons to his fellow clansmen and members of his district and to give daughters as his own in marriage to their husbands. Mistresses we have for pleasure, concubines for daily service to our bodies, but wives for the procreation of legitimate children and to be faithful guardians of the household.” (Dem. 59)

Love was not assumed.  Yet Paul admonishes husbands to love their wives (and the reverse).

That’s kinda radical!

So yes, that’s one possible explanation for why he coined a new word rather than using an old, well-known pair of terms.  He already had prostitution and adultery, which covered sex between men and women outside of marriage, so he invents a new word for sex between men outside of the bonds of affection.  Such would be a nice reading, a positive reading, a reading that would make Paul amazingly forward-thinking.

But I don’t think it’s the right one.

When translating the NT, one really needs to be aware of both Greek and Jewish culture, and I’ve so far largely focused on Greek.  On purpose.  Again, it’s the language being used, and therefore, Greek culture strongly affects what words are available.  They don’t make up words for something they don’t conceptualize.

So Paul has to.

I think Paul deliberately avoided erastes/eromenos BECAUSE they had positive connotations.  For all Paul was born in a Greek city and spoke Greek as his native language, he was a “Greek Jew.”  He belonged to a sub-culture that was largely Canaanite, not Greek.  And he did not accept Greek constructs.

But one thing Paul DID share with the Greeks…and with the rest of the ancient Mediterranean and Ancient Near Eastern world—the idea that who one had sex with was a CHOICE.

No ancient culture had a concept equivalent to our modern idea of “homosexual,” “heterosexual,” or “bisexual.”  E.g., a fundamental personality trait one is born to.  It wasn’t part of their ideas of self-definition.

Again, there is no word in Greek for “homosexual” or “gay.”

So Paul looks out from his traditional Jewish sub-culture at the larger Greek culture, and just doesn’t approve of all of it.

He is a product of two cultures, oddly meshed, and one of those has a heritage of Levitical law, which disallowed sexual interaction that couldn’t result in reproduction—including coitus interruptus.  (The so-called “Sin of Onan” isn’t masturbation, but failing to get his brother’s wife properly pregnant so she might have a son who could inherit for his dead father…a part of traditional Jewish law.)  The focus was on perpetuation of family, inheritance, and community.  Gay sex didn’t do that in their world.  Ergo, it wasn’t permitted.  Leviticus is very pragmatic.  We may object all we like, but 3000+ years ago, in that culture, it wasn’t so illogical.  Context, context, which means historical perspective.  Leviticus, like Hammurabi’s Code, tends to be dissed today for wholly anachronistic reasons.  At the time in the Late Bronze Age, both were unusually fair and somewhat revolutionary.  Those who get shirty about Leviticus really need to read some of the OTHER lawcodes of the Bronze-Age Ancient Near East. ;>

Yet Levitical law (in all its complexity) was also rejected by the early church.  The Laws of Noah (in Genesis) were substituted by the Council of Jerusalem (Acts 15).

Nonetheless, Paul is a good Jewish scholar, as well as a Christian, so it should come as no surprise that he’d reject parts of Greek culture that he finds offensive to traditional Jewish culture…including Greek homoeroticism.  So he made up a word—deliberately referencing Leviticus—rather than using the more common erastes/eromenos because, simply, he doesn’t want to dignify it that much.

That’s not a pretty reading, but it is, I think, the right one—the culturally informed one.  Culturally informed from both the Greek and Jewish sides, because Paul was both.

So yes, Paul DOES condemn men having sex with men (he’s oddly silent about women but I think he’d have the same attitude).  Yet Paul also believed something that, increasingly, we don’t today.  He believed it was a CHOICE.

Just as we no longer believe (like Aristotle, and Paul) that women are “naturally” inferior, and “incomplete men,” we’ve come to understand that sexual orientation isn’t a choice.  To quote Lady Gaga, we’re “born that way.”

We must also understand that, in Jewish thought, CHOICE is the heart of sin.  Adam and Eve chose to disobey.  There’s some really fantastic Jewish midrash on the Garden of Eden story, but it boils down to choice.  That’s why tragedy isn’t “evil.”  Evil always involves choice.

No choice, no evil.  No sin.

So maybe we should go back to my “nicer” reading of Paul.  Paul is condemning sex between two men (or two women) that doesn’t involve affection.  The weird, awkward arsenokoitai really does mean something different from erastes/eromenos, and we’ve come, or at least are coming, to understand that gay attraction involves love no less than straight attraction—making it much closer to the Greek concept of erastes/eromenos (even if structured differently between their society and ours).

It’s about giving one’s self, not just using another person’s body for one’s own pleasure.

And THAT, to me, is the real difference.

Christians talk about Scripture as human words inspired by God.  So for those who grant authority to the Bible (which may not be everybody reading my blog entry), this could be a perfect example of where what Paul accidentally said is closer to what God meant than to what Paul intended it to mean.  By refusing to grant the dignity of the more popular, but positive Greek terms, he wound up underscoring the importance of emotional attachment as part of sexual activity, something he already bluntly states is key to opposite-sex pairings.

Sex is such a remarkably intimate (and honestly, rather strange) thing to do with another human being, that the removal of affection from the equation winds up making it sort of humiliating, or downright frightening and debasing.

“Appropriate vulnerability” and love as part of sex are consistent themes throughout the New Testament.  Sexual partners should be treated with dignity and respect.  When sex becomes just about one’s own pleasure, it no longer respects the dignity of the Other/the partner.

Among the things emerging with the right of same-sex couples to marry is that the desire to be loved and cared-for in a committed relationship is a human universal.  Furthermore, the various stories of this or that sexual scandal that pops up in the media merely underscores that the much-touted “sanctity of marriage” has little to do with the gender make-up of the partners.

In short, how you love matters more than who you love.

So let’s allow Paul to be appropriately ancient and cultural.  No, I don’t think he approved of same-sex relationships, but he also didn’t understand them in the way we’ve come to since.  Remember, he also endorsed slavery and the subjugation of women.  He saw same-sex behavior as a willful disregard of what nature (and ergo, Yahweh) had intended.  A choice.  And therefore, a sin.

If he’d understood it wasn’t a choice, then…who knows?

We have to keep in mind that the ancient world believed a lot of plain wrong stuff about human biology/anatomy.  For instance, the heart was the seat of reason; the brain just cooled the blood.  The “default” gender was male; to be born female was a biological screw-up.  (Today, we know the default human gender is actually female.)  They also, weirdly, thought babies “fought” their way out of the womb, rather than women’s bodies giving birth to them.  And that’s just some of the peculiar (and really wrong) stuff they believed to be true. :-)

We’ve come a long way, baby.

If the church doesn’t change and evolve, then it’s dead.  Only dead things never change.

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*Corinth was the mercantile giant of Greece until the end of the Archaic Age, when Athens stole her crown (c. 550-500 BCE).  She remained an important player in Greek history after, but didn’t rise in importance again till the Hellenistic age, when she was the center of the Achaian League, the Greek city-states united against other Hellenistic kingdoms such as Antigonid Macedonia, Ptolemaic Egypt, or Seleucid Asia.  In 146, the League sided against Rome, which was a bad idea, and Roman legions under Mummius leveled the town.  It remained minimally inhabited until Julius Caesar refounded it in 44 BCE, after which it slowly regained its former glory.  Due to its position on the isthmus between the Greek mainland the Peloponnese “almost island” is has always had a significant presence in trade (and still does).  The modern Corinthian canal—an idea first proposed in antiquity by Alexander the Great—allows shipping to avoid a long trip around the Peloponnese, and supplies funds to the city.  In Paul’s day, Corinth was fairly wealthy, if not as a great as its Archaic and Classical ancestor.

**We could also include Hades and Hephaistos, albeit for different reasons.  All three were undesirable male models: Hades because he was antisocial, Hephaistos because he was ugly, and Dionysos because he’s effeminate.  Ares also has few affairs with men, but mostly because he’s seen as too brutal.  Most of his affairs are a matter of rape, not seduction.

***koitein is a euphemism.  It literally translates as “lie beside,” but is used just as we do in English, to mean “to have sex with.”  Yet as I went into such a big stink above about why we can’t assume malakos meant the passive male in sex, let me go back to “context.”  We know that Paul is using the term in reference to the Levitical Greek verb, and we know exactly what the Levitical Greek word was in Hebrew.  Ergo, we have proper context to translate it euphemistically rather than literally.  For a full, academic discussion of the term, see W. L. Petersen, Vigiliae Christianae 40 (1986): 187-91.

How Christianity Invented the Separation of Church and State ... (but has never really believed in it)

How Christianity Invented the Separation of Church and State …

(but has never really believed in it)

This entry was inspired by a fairly insightful editorial by Conservative Steve Chapman for the Chicago Tribune.  While I think that, in his analysis of modern politics, he’s pretty spot on, there’s one fundamental problem with his article:

An unspoken assumption that religion and politics united is somehow new.  The article discusses the left-wing politicization of religion in the '60s and '70s, and right-wing politicization of religion in the '80s, '90s and 2000s – which is correct – but he seems (subtly) to imply that this politicization is somehow a recent deviation from the more usual separation in American history.  Perhaps this was a choice on the writer’s part to focus on the recent past, but if so, a nod to history might have been in order, as the church has long danced a tango with political powers dating back to its very beginnings.

The notion of a separation between church and state is popularly assumed to be an invention of the United States Constitution … but it isn’t.  The basic idea has its roots in antiquity when Christianity was outlawed for its first 300-or-so years, making it really hard (if not necessarily impossible) to get ahead in government/state and be a (good) Christian.

This early history created a fundamental theological outlook that would – much, much later – evolve into the theory of separate realms for state and church.

That’s where Chapman is off.  It’s also where Christianity separates from both Judaism and Islam, its parent and cousin religions.  The idea that church and state should BE separate is not, historically, part of those traditions.  So why do we (from a Euro-Christian-Western viewpoint) see it differently?

First, for a huge chunk of history, “atheism” as we now define it didn’t exist.  In the ancient (and medieval) world, “atheism” = “not my gods.”  Religion was an intrinsic part of life, not to mention the health of governments (whatever the government might be).  In a few cases such as Egypt’s pharaoh, the ruler was a god.  More often, the ruler was seen as having divine sanction or approval, and acted as divine representative.  God/the gods were on his side.  (Or on her side in a few cases.)  Be that as it may, the king ruled by the will of the gods, and a perceived loss of divine favor could result in being deposed.  The Assyrians even developed an elaborate “scapegoat” ritual to deflect divine wrath and allow the king to return to his post.  Many kings were also high priests of whatever religious cult was paramount.  There were exceptions (Israel notably among them), but overall, this held true.

Among the things a king might be expected to do involved appointing other priests, building new temples/restoring old ones, building other religious structures, officiating at specific rituals, and performing sacrifices for the well-being of the people he ruled.  Just to give an example of HOW seriously a king could take this, on his deathbed, among the very last things Alexander the Great dragged himself up to do?  Make the morning sacrifice to Zeus (and Herakles) for the well-being of the Macedonian people.  YES, it mattered that much.  He stopped only when he could no longer stand.

Was he exceptional?  Not really.  He was notably devout, but his choice wasn’t peculiar.  It was EXPECTED – the most fundamental part of his “job” as king:  keep god/the gods happy.

Also, when the Greeks of the Iron Age ditched the old wanax (Great King) of Mycenaean times and even outgrew the basileus (mayor/glorified chieftain/king) of the dark age to adopt oligarchies and (eventually) democracy?  The role of basileus (king) DID NOT DISAPPEAR.   Instead, it became a year-long elected office (or one chosen by lot, depending on city-state) so the basileus (and his wife) could perform the RELIGIOUS duties traditionally assigned to the “king.”

So yes, even when there was no POLITICAL king, they still had a RELIGIOUS king.  Because performing certain civic rights were, well, civic – essential  to the health of the STATE (and its citizens).  Later, when Rome evolved from republic to empire, the emperor (Imperator) took the role of Pontifex Maximus, the highest priesthood in Rome (literally the high priest of the College of Pontiffs; pontiff = priest).  And he would continue to hold it, yes, through Constantine (supposedly a Christian), up till Gratian, arguably in 376, more likely 383.  Theodosius I is the one who truly killed its use.  “Pontifex” continued in the Christian church as the term used by priests.  And THAT is why the pope is called the “Pontiff.”  It’s Latin for ‘priest,’ friends.

My point is this:  religious activity as a priest was assumed to be part and parcel of government and the duty of a king/emperor throughout most of the Ancient Near East and the Mediterranean Basin.  THAT IS THE WORLD THAT BIRTHED NOT JUST JUDAISM, BUT ALSO CHRISTIANITY AND ISLAM.

Now … why are people surprised that religion and politics might go hand-in-hand?

They always have.

It’s an ANOMALY when they don’t – an anomaly owing to the fact early Christianity was a religio illicita, or illegal religion.  Without digressing into a full survey of early church history, from the time of Trajan on (see Book 10 of the Younger Pliny’s letters), being Christian could be deadly.  There were no wide-spread persecutions and pogroms, à la Hollywood pop flicks, but there were periodic cases of Christians put on trial and convicted as Christians (“on the name alone,” to quote Pliny).  Because many public offices involved RELIGIOUS celebrations for traditional Greco-Roman cult (see above), Christians could not (usually) aspire to political office – certainly not HIGH political office – and remain good Christians.

As a result, a chasm developed between “the world” and “the church.”  In “the world,” there was the cursus honorum – the  Roman “Race of Honor” – while the Christian church developed an alternative path of a cursus sanctum, or “Race of Holiness.”  One had to CHOOSE.  Become a Prince of the Church, or a Prince of the World.  As Paul himself insists, one could not be both.  Well, not until after Constantine.  Then the chasm began to close …

… except it never really did, especially in the West.  With the tradition of celibacy growing among priests and the obvious need for kings and emperors to marry and produce legitimate heirs, a priest could not also be a king.  That division remained.  Instead, the question became, “Who holds the REAL (ultimate) power?”  Popes or kings?  It fueled all sorts of medieval controversies, most notably the Investiture Controversy, but hardly limited to that.  I will, however, bow out of further medieval discussion, not being a medievalist and recognizing my limits.

Yet this unique history allowed an idea to ferment that “church” and “state” should be different realms, separate.  When church and state get in bed together, it breeds subversion of both Christian ideals AND good government … at least, according to traditional Christian theology.

So the peculiar development of Christianity as “illegal” for its first few centuries set the stage for the eventual concept of “Separation of Church and State.”  That notion isn’t just a product of the Enlightenment and rise of science, or even a logical result of divisions that arose during the Reformation.  The fundamental assumptions that support it go back much further, to the very birth of Christianity.

Judaism doesn’t share that history.  Islam doesn’t share that history.  A lot of other world religions don’t, either.  We, here in the west, need to RECOGNIZE they don’t, not ask why they insist on religion and government together as if it’s some sort of strange, mutated beast.

WE are the strange, mutated beast.

I may, personally, believe in separation of church and state, but that doesn’t mean I don’t understand it’s atypical in human history.  Only when we consider how such separation developed can we begin to formulate an intelligent – not assumptive and biased – discussion with other religions who have other histories.

Judaism’s history assumed Theocracy for the nation of Israel, with the Davidic King acting as a human stand-in for Yahweh (e.g., God).  Likewise, Muhammad was both the religious and political leader of the early Ummah, or Islamic Community.  And while the emphasis was on religion over politics at least initially, nonetheless the notion that “religion” and “politics” should be separate was never a part of Islamic history, either.  Any such concept in Muslim countries is pretty recent, owing largely to exposure to Western religions/philosophies and the increasingly cosmopolitan world where not all citizens belong to one belief system, or to any belief system at all.

That’s where the BIG EFFIN’ CHANGE LIES.  With the Communication Age, and an increasingly mobile society with large immigrant populations from really different ethno-religious backgrounds – and  also the rise of (modern) atheism (or at least agnosticism) – it can no longer be assumed by most First-World (and many Second- or Third-World) Countries that all, much less a majority, of their citizens will share the same beliefs.  Obviously “Immigrant” countries like the U.S. see this demonstrated most profoundly … which is WHY separation of church and state got a kick-start in immigrant countries … but it’s becoming increasingly common in countries that still maintain an official state religion (however “technical” it may be).

I think it important to understand the very long, very convoluted history of religion in government in order to recognize that it really is not that strange for them to go hand-in-hand.  Even an “illegal” religion like Christianity wanted to influence the government.  No sooner did the Christians have the upper hand than they began to outlaw OTHER religious expressions, starting with “heresy,” then moving on to traditional Greco-Roman religion (e.g., “paganism”), philosophy, and even their cousin religions, Judaism and (later) Islam.  Despite her troubled and fractional history with Roman government, Christianity did not give up on the idea of influencing rulers and lawcodes.  And it still hasn’t.

As the original article noted, Christians today span the political gamut from ultra-conservative to very, very liberal, as much as it might surprise some to hear that there are ultra-liberal Christians.  But several Christian denominations lean Left, from the Quakers to American Episcopalians to subgroups of other mainstream protestant churches (Lutheran, Presbyterian, United Methodist, and even American Baptist).  We should also include the Metropolitan Community Church, the first not just to welcome but to ordain gay and lesbians pastors.  Likewise, everything from Liberal Theology (yes, it’s a theological school, not a political term) to Liberation Theology are very much on the LEFT.

This Left is usually perceived as less “pushy” than the Right, due in part to a theology/philosophy of tolerance that tends NOT to make headlines.  Yet these groups are still politically active.  Rewind a couple of decades to the ‘60s and early ‘70s, and it was a different story as to which type of Christian was in the news the most.  The “Born Again” movement began on the West Coast and was considered fairly liberal in its early days.  Christian Rock and other forms of Contemporary Christian Music – particularly popular in Evangelical churches today with a strong emphasis on outreach – were born in the then-radical musicals Godspell and Jesus Christ Superstar, and the Street Gospel songs of Larry Norman … “Jesus Music.”  Similarly, the Civil Rights Movement had a number of religious leaders (Martin Luther King being obvious), and the Sanctuary Movement of the ‘80s had a number of Left-leaning ministers and other church workers as active participants.  So while the Left may not have a theology of theocracy or Dominionism, they certainly do seek to influence political life in accordance with their beliefs, and vote by their conscience.

So whether the matter is seeking to make abortion illegal (Pro-Life), or to establish government-funded agencies to aid the poor (Social Gospel), both the Right AND the Left do seek legal and political change based on ethical codes derived from their own interpretations of Christian scripture.

Thus, when we talk about separation of church and state as an ideal today, it needs to be a more nuanced conversation.  First, we must recognize that “church” – or more properly religion – in political life is not restricted only to the more conservative voices, or solely the purview of extremists (be they al-Qaeda or the Westboro Baptist Church).  Believers – whatever the belief – are all over the theological, and political, map.

Second, and more importantly, we need to remember that separating religion and government is not somehow “historically correct,” or “the way it used to be, and ought to be again.”  The “way it used to be” would, actually, unite religion and government.

I would propose that consciously separating the two has become necessary in our increasingly diverse world.  That hardly precludes individuals from voting based on their conscience – nor should it – but the State (and the states) should avoid any clear preference for one particular faith, or one sect/denomination/theological paradigm within that faith.

We no longer live in a homogenous world, ethnically or religiously, and must come to terms with this reality.  Diverse societies have real advantages.  They tend to be more intellectually vigorous, more innovative, and less stagnant.  But they also require a higher level of tolerance towards others.  These societies only last when difference is perceived as interesting, not a threat.

So separation of “church”/religion and state is – to be completely honest – artificial, historically speaking.  But it’s also important to a modern, civilized society in the Communication Age.

Confessions from the Professorial Side of the Desk #3

Confessions from the Professorial Side of the Desk #3:

How to Put Your Foot in Your Mouth with "Hello"

This blog was inspired by an email I recently received from a student seeking advising so he could register for classes.  He contacted me because it was near the end of the semester, and he'd not yet heard back from his original assigned faculty advisor.  He opened his email by addressing me as "Mrs. Reames."  First, I'm not married (divorced actually, for some years now, and Reames was never my married name).  Second, I do happen to have a phud, so I'm Dr. Reames.

Often, students aren't sure how to address college professors.  In public school, most female teachers are "Mrs." (a few "Miss"), and most male teachers are "Mr."  I rarely see "Ms." used in Nebraska, although I know it's employed elsewhere and (personally) think public schools should be pushing a title that doesn't depend on a woman's marital status.  Be that as it may, I understand why especially college freshmen may not be entirely sure what honorific to use.

But this student called me -- the female faculty member -- "Mrs.," while referring to the other -- male -- faculty member as "Dr."  Yet I know this student never received any email from my colleague that had "Dr. ___" in the signature, or saw the title posted on his door, or heard the secretary call him "Dr." and me "Mrs."  In short, he had no clues whatsoever beyond our gender.  We are both full-time, tenured faculty, both slated for undergrad advising, both entirely equal in all department presentation from the website to the sign outside the History department door.

No, he defaulted (probably unconsciously) to the assumption that the male professor was "Dr." but the female professor was not.  Yes, sexism is alive and well on college campuses.  There's only so much information I'll publicly share, to protect identities, but I'm quite sure this young man had no reason to assume my colleague was a Dr. but I wasn't, beyond gender.  "Male faculty advisor" vs. "Female faculty advisor."  That's all he knew.

This is not the first time I've encountered such bias, but is among the more blatantly obvious.  I rarely make a stink about it, and don't deal with a lot of sexism (especially blatant sexual advances), but like many women, I DO face these "unconscious" assumptions periodically.  Yet if we complain?  We're being too sensitive!  Or we're reading into it!  There must be another explanation!

Er, no.  Not in this case.  Let's call a spade, a spade, shall we?  I don't face sexism around every corner, but that means I damn sure know it when I see it, thanks.

Students, if unsure, "Prof. ___" is ALWAYS safe.  If one must err, err on the side of flattery, use "Dr. ___."  The teacher will correct that if it's incorrect.  But NEVER address a female professor as "Mrs. ___" unless she's told you to do so.  It assumes a lot of problematic things.  Likewise, never call a professor by his or her first name unless s/he has told you to do so.  Some of my colleagues absolutely prefer that, and are uncomfortable being either Prof. or Dr.  I have no issues with that.  In fact, I felt that way myself when I first began teaching.  "Dr. Reames" was WEIRD.  I've got used to it, but it took time (and a lot grayer hair).

Yet this young fellow's blunder does raise the thorny issue in modern times of politisms and honorifics, and quite varied (sometimes regional) expectations.  I was reminded of this recently by another colleague who comes from the American N.E., who found the very southern/midwestern endearment "hon" offensive when coming from a stranger.  This surprised me, as I use "hon" habitually myself, being raised in the South by Midwestern parents.  I promised not to use it for her, but she said, "You're my friend, it's okay.  It's strangers who use it that bug me."  To her, "hon" felt overly familiar -- and thus rude.  To me it's just a friendly way to address someone, especially a younger person.  I wouldn't call an elder "hon," but I often call my students that.  Yet her comment made me stop and think -- maybe I shouldn't call students that, especially if I don't know them?  I mean nothing by it -- in fact, I intend it to sound "warm and friendly" instead of "coldly formal" -- but it may be perceived as overly familiar by others.

I don't think it's such a bad thing to stop and ask ourselves these questions, now and then.

Are the words we use perceived by others in the ways we intend them?  To some degree, accidental offense is probably inevitable at some point in our lives, but it behooves us to learn from the experience, not dig in our heels and insist the other person is "too sensitive."

We all have personal triggers.

For me, I have a deep, personal objection to anybody, especially a man, calling me "baby."  There is only ONE living person who gets to call me that -- my father.  (My mother died 15 years ago.)  I might make an exception for my brother, who changed my diapers (he's a lot older than me), but even he doesn't call me that.  No one else alive may do so.  I find it belittling.  I think many of us have such personal triggers, if we think about it -- honorifics, pet names, or endearments that strike us like nails on a chalkboard, for whatever reason.

That brings me back to handling honorifics in our increasingly changing society.  How DO we politely address strangers without putting our foot in our mouth?

Most people are NOT asses, although they may display unconscious assumptions.  I don't even assume that young male student was trying to insult me.  In fact, I assume the opposite.  But he DID insult me by making some pretty big blunders.  I tried to view it as a "teaching moment," and sent back an email that first answered his question, and then (gently) corrected his error.  I have no idea how he'll take the correction; he might get offended himself, which I can't control.  All one can do is respond politely and honestly, and hope the other will HEAR, not be too busy talking.

So how does one avoid insult?  Well, I'm not Miss Manners, or any expert on etiquette, but there are some safe bits of advice to keep in mind when writing a formal (or even informal) letter to someone whose title isn't immediately clear.  First, look it up, if possible.  Avoid assuming.  I have a lot of students who assume without doing something as simple as checking my syllabus (where my title is given) or the signature on my letters (where, again, my title is given).  In this case, the young man had neither a syllabus nor had he seen my letter signature, but I DO have students who have one or both and STILL persist in using the wrong title because they don't pay attention.

Frankly, this is dumb.  Replying to a reply of mine and continuing to use "Mrs. Reames" or even "Ms Reames" while the signature to my letter clearly has "Dr. Reames" shows a certain failure of simple observation.  And that, in turn, doesn't impress me with one's intelligence, even if no intentional insult is meant.  Students need to be aware (and BEware) of how such "goofs" appear to professors ... or (later) to potential employers.

Taking a little extra time to track down information in order to make a good first impression is important.  In our increasingly informal world, students forget this.  Perhaps there are some venues were informality is assumed, even preferred.  But both education and the business world are not among them.  While some occupations, and a few businesses, prize informality ... most don't.  This is something college student need to learn, if they have a hope of getting hired later.  Again, there are occupations that don't have such expectations, but the expectations are still useful to know, as they may come in handy in unexpected circumstances.

Details matter.  My grandfather, a carpenter, used to look at the SHOES of potential employees.  This was back when men wore shined leather dress shoes or boots, and when all his applicants were male, too.  Why shoes?  He said (paraphrased), "If a fellow won't take care of details like his shoes, I can't trust him to take care of proper finishing on cabinets."  Job applicants need to realize potential employers notice such things and evaluate accordingly -- and it's not even an unfair evaluation.  My grandpa had a point.

Details matter.  People who can't pay attention to details in one arena are often uncareful in others.  Exceptions exist, but they are exceptions that prove the rule.

If you really WANT that job, prove it.  Spell- and grammar-check letters.  Dress neatly.  Have clean shoes. (*grin*)  And for pity's sake, CHECK THE INTRODUCTION to any letter.  There is little worse than 1) Misspelling a person's name, OR 2) using the wrong (and potentially insulting) honorific.

If you aren't sure, GOOGLE IT.  Invest a little time.  Care of details pays off.  If not today, then tomorrow.

Practice the Art of Getting it Right.

"Harry and Tonto" (Art Carney, Paul Mazurski, dir.)

"Harry & Tonto"

I don't normally write movie reviews here, but I don't normally see a film like this one.  I rented it because it's that rare thing -- a "buddy movie" about a man and his CAT, not a man and his dog.  Lots of dog feature films out there.  Not so many with a cat.  I read that Carney won an Oscar for his performance, but I didn't expect to get the total GEM of a film that this turned out to be.

If you have never seen this, run out and rent it RIGHT NOW.  Even if you're not a cat person, rent it anyway.  It's not about the cat.

Although shot in 1974, it doesn't feel dated.  You could pretend is was made yesterday, but set in 1974.  It stars the inimitable Art Carney as Harry Coombes, with an ensemble cast, some of whom had or went on to have stellar careers of their own.  (And it's ironic that I'm watching it just a few days after the death of Larry Hagman, who has a supporting role.)  Ellen Burstyn is in it, and Phil Burns, Chief Dan George (one of Hollywood's better known native actors of the 60s/70s), and a very cute, very young Melanie Mayron.  Most people know Carney best from "The Honeymooners," but this role won him an Oscar -- and it's very much his vehicle.  Without such a subtle, talented actor as lead, this film would have flopped.

Yet as a road-trip film, PLACE is as much a "character": as the humans in the film.  We move from coast to coast:  New York City to Los Angeles, with Chicago and various other destinations in between (Ft. Wayne, IN, somewhere in Arizona, and Las Vegas).

What I love about this film is that it features older people, not just Carney, but his NYC friends, as unique, interesting people with vivid lives-- not stereotypes.  They're funny, irreverent, opinionated, sometimes wise, sometimes foolish.  In other words, fully human, but with a lot of experience to share for those willing to listen. This is what Elder means in native communities.  The character of Harry Coombes was a former English teacher, and as he's talking to the young Ginger (Mayron), he tells about how he once thought about pursuing a career in entertainment after working as a singing waiter while going to college.  But instead, he says, education needed him more, and teaching was like performing anyway, holding the interest of one's students.  Speaking as a professor, he's absolutely right.  Teaching is performance art.  And even retired, now a widower evicted from his NYC home and on the road, he's still a teacher ... and more than a little bit performer.

But interacting with the younger people he meets wakes the younger Harry, as well.  First is his nephew, Norman (Josh Mostel), pursuing a rather twisted mishmash of Eastern philosophy and '70s drug culture, who's taken a vow of silence.  The rest of the family (Harry's eldest son, wife, and another nephew) find the whole thing ridiculous.  And, really, it is.  But they seem to miss the point.  Harry, being on the outside, takes time to ask questions ... and offer some thoughts.  And Norman listens.  He doesn't change his mind immediately, but it's obvious the fact someone he knows took time to talk to him matters.  Interest is a wiser path than deaf disapproval.  Even if one may disapprove, or question, without paying attention, it means nothing.  (My mother taught me that, long before I saw this film.  Because she listened and engaged with what interested me, even if it didn't interest her, I, in turn, listened to her opinion.  But that's a blog for another day.)

Harry's tie with the underage, run-away hitchhiker Ginger is similar.  He listens, and shares his own experiences ... so she listens in turn.  There's an old saying that our Elders and our Children share a special bond because the latter are at the beginning of the circle of life, while the latter are at the end.  I think there's a lot of truth to that, and if this film does nothing else, it demonstrates the continued value of our Elders especially to our children.  (This reminds me, also, of an lovely song by the very talented indie blues singer, India Arie, "Better People.")  And, btw, when Ginger ends up with Harry's nephew Norman (of the silence), it feels quite fitting.  Yes, staged for the film, but not forced (there's a difference).

The irony behind all this is that his relationships with his own children are clearly less healthy.  He's a better grandfather (and teacher), perhaps, than father.  The fact his daughter Shirley (Burstyn) calls him by his given name, not "Pop" (as with the two sons), says a lot.

As with all good Road Trip stories, it's not just about Harry teaching others, but Harry learning along the way.  In NYC, one of his good friends is Leroy (played by Avon Long), a neighbor of his generation who happens to be black.  When Leroy is invited to dinner at Harry's son's home in the NYC suburbs, some rather funny, subtle critique of honest friendship versus fake acceptance takes place.  But when he later goes looking for a former sweetheart and gets the right name but wrong person -- and she turns out to be black -- awkwardness ensues, but of the honest sort and it's not long-lasting because they quickly get beyond skin color and interact as people.  This is the very human side the film consistently illumines.  It's understated, sometimes funny, sometimes painful, but avoids being preachy even while hitting head-on some of the big social issues of the early/mid-70s.  It doesn't avoid them, but it also doesn't dwell.  Maybe, in the end, the confusion of parties in Ft. Wayne wouldn't have been any less awkward if the woman had been white, not black.  And that's the sort of challenging question this film asks.  Get beyond perceptions, but don't ignore reality.  We'll come back to this in Las Vegas.

But first, and even before the road trip begins, there is a significant, symbolic encounter back in NYC.  Harry has many friends of various ethnic groups, but one is Jacob (Herbert Berghof), a Polish immigrant who, amusingly, goes on and on about "damn capitalists! and "damn Nazis!"  His full background is never explained, but we can guess.  The two have a casual-intimate relationship forged on a NYC park bench.  When his Polish friend dies shortly before he leaves the city, Harry goes to identify the body so his friend can have a proper burial.  When he arrives at the morgue, there's a brief issue because he's not family, but as he points out, Jacob's family are all back in Poland.  When they ask for Jacob's SS$#, or even his birthday, Harry can't give an answer.  They let him in anyway (lacking other options), and he then tells stories to the morgue worker, showing he knew his friend far better than stats could ever reveal.  The essence of what makes us human is not our birthday, our ethnicity, our SS#, or any of those census details.  It's the story of our lives.

To see a person real.  That seems to be Harry's great gift through much of the film ... although, and again ironically, he sees his adult children the least real of all.  But he's trying.  His encounters with his book-shop owner daughter in Chicago, and later his youngest son in LA, show that he's trying, even if the latter falls flat.

(Almost) all the characters in the film are, ultimately, likeable in their own odd way.  (The most distasteful are his eldest son's wife and one of the nephews.)  But even while being likeable, they're also human.  Some of the scenes were almost painful in their authenticity.  I sometimes had to pause the film to think about it before continuing ... as one does with a good book.

One of the more subtly hysterical scenes is when Harry pretends to be a traveling salesman while in a cab in NYC.  He claims to sell CATS.  The cabby totally buys it, ridiculous as it sounds.  BUT, later in the film, Harry meets a real traveling salesman who used to sell ... cats!  It's one of the ways the film borders on the surreal, but by that point, we're ready to believe about anything, as if -- once Harry has passed Chicago (the furthest west he's heretofore been) into the "mythical" American West -- ANYthing is possible.  And of course, the salesman fellow is a total sleeze, but colorful and fun.

As the film progresses, we watch Harry shed his inhibitions.  At one point, he gets a ride from a hooker.  Remember, Harry is a widower in his '70s, and when earlier, the young Ginger gives him a free glimpse of her breasts (in a non-sexual setting), he's clearly unsettled.  Of course, she's very young, younger than his grandchildren.  But he's also still "emerging" into his own.  On the road to Las Vegas, the (safely adult) hooker offers a bit more than a glimpse, and he's ready to take her up on it.

(It's all Offscreen.  There's some frank discussion of sexuality, but aside from that one mentioned very brief shot of bare breasts, this is not a graphic film.  In fact, if that breast shot earned the film its /R/, I'd consider this perfectly safe for anybody 13/14+.  It might even be GOOD for younger teens to hear older people talking about sexual activity in realistic, non-romanticized ways ... they're not dead.  It's a far better film for teens than graphic violence, IMO.)

In fact, the entire Las Vegas sequence was amusing.  Among other things, a drunk Harry is arrested for peeing in public, which is where he meets Sam Two-Feathers (Chief Dan George), a medicine man arrested when a patient died.  He says he practices good medicine on good people, and bad medicine on bad people.  He heals Harry of his arthritis.  But the discussion of Harry's cat is another way in which racism is confronted and dismissed. Harry explains his cat is named "Tonto" after the Lone Ranger & Tonto, a famous radio show.  Two-Feathers has never heard of it, says he doesn't own a radio.  Harry says he's sorry, (and one can almost hear him thinking, 'Wow, you're so poor/beyond civilization you don't have a radio?'), but Two-Feathers goes on to explain he has a TV.  So much for primitive.  He also discusses a blender with Harry, and says his wife will be very pleased to have it, when Harry gives it to him.  Again, their whole conversation upends stereotypes even while subtly acknowledging them.  The real Indian doesn't recognize "Tonto," the most famous (fake) Hollywood Indian of the era.  But the real Indian does own a TV and a blender, even while he's a medicine man able to heal a persistent ailment Harry has suffered for years.  He isn't a stereotype.  He's just a guy, from a unique culture living in the modern world.

In many ways, I found this film better and more honest about ethnic issues than many films made post 2000.  It's elegant and clear-eyed.  It makes its points so softly, one almost doesn't recognize them until one finds one's self seeing anew.  Bravo.  All authors (myself included) could take a page on ethnicity issues from "Harry and Tonto."

Finally, Harry makes it to the other coast -- L.A. -- and his youngest son, Eddie (Larry Hagman).  Eddie is almost the cliche of Playboy California, but as we discover, it's surface.  He's in need of money.  His father tries to help him, but the son just disappears once the surface nature of his life is uncovered.  He wants help, but only if it's under the table.  Being Real isn't something Eddie can do ... even while Being Real is something Harry has gradually perfected.

Harry ends up on his own in L.A., hanging out at the beach boardwalk, playing chess among the older generation and debating philosophy ... not that different (except in setting) from his life in NYC.  Different coast, same (sort of) people ... and that's part of the philosophical debate he has with his new friends, in fact ... "We breathe the same air."  Indeed, we do.

The ending is both sad and oddly hopeful.  I won't give it ALL away, but have a few tissues.  The final shot shows Harry with a kid on the beach, who's building a sand castle ... a structure quintessentially impermanent.  Like life.

It really is a beautiful film, not to be missed, however "old" it may be.  It's not old at all.

Ironically, what caused me to rent the film -- the cat -- was the only "thumbs-down" I'd give.  He's a cute red tabby ... but well, he's just there.  As a life-long cat owner, I never felt much connection between Tonto (the cat) and Harry.  In fact, the cat often looked like he was just putting up with it all.

This may owe in part to the fact Carney doesn't seem to know how to interact with a cat, or even how to carry one properly.  The poor cat sorta hangs, clutched in Carney's grip, much of the time.  Maybe that was intentional, but it looked strange to a cat person.  I know of NO cat who likes to be held with one arm under the chest, rear legs left hanging.  I've known cats who ride on shoulders, or half on shoulders, who like to be carried like babies, who hang over two arms outstretched, or who sit tucked in the corner of an elbow (if small enough).  But not dangled.  It's a wonder the poor kitty didn't bite him!  It didn't help that Tonto had little onscreen charisma, and wasn't very vocal.

Perhaps, like the people in the film, the director wanted "just a real cat."  Unfortunately, he seemed like a cat chosen at random -- not Harry's long-term companion.  He didn't interact with Harry in a way that left a true cat-owner with a sense that this cat loved HARRY.  He wasn't Harry's cat.  He was a cat hired because he walked on a leash.  The fact he was carried as much by other characters as by Harry, says a lot.

If hiring a regular red tabby may have fit the story's general theme, it might have been better to use a "breed" cat known to be people-oriented.  Siamese/Oriental short-hairs are more talkative and "human centric" (following "their" people around from room to room).  Even half-Siamese will show that characteristic.  For that matter, my son's cat Licorice has more personality than Tonto in the film.  He's a good example of a very smart, laid-back, but remarkably personable "alley cat."  So it doesn't have to be a "breed" cat, it just needs to be a very special cat, able to carry the "animal" part of the film much as Carney carried the human part. Tonto wasn't it.

Perhaps this was a case of bad animal casting, or a case of "actor doesn't really know cats."  But the defining relationship of the film -- that between Harry and Tonto -- fell flat for this cat-lover.  I wanted to believe it, because otherwise, the film was exceptional ... but I didn't.  Tonto felt like a prop, not a character.

And that's too bad.

But don't let that stop you from renting the film.  It's absolutely worth your time. Art Carney earned every bit of that Oscar.

Confessions from the Professorial Side of the Desk #2

Confessions from the Professorial Side of the Desk #2:
How Many Dead Grandmothers This Semester ...?

The infamous "dead grandmother" as an excuse for a missed quiz, test, paper, or project has become a bit of a joke among professors.  Every semester, before (almost) every test in large lecture courses, somebody's grandparent dies. Sometimes it's a close friend, aunt or uncle ... but usually it's a grandparent, and more often than not, a grandmother.

Deaths in the extended family are a popular excuse when one forgot the test or just didn't bother to study, because 1) they're harder to verify, and 2) a death in the family will net the sympathy card.

Except it doesn't.  It's been overused to the point professors are automatically skeptical.

That's something students need to be aware of.  It's such a staple excuse, if your professor seems surprisingly cool ... that's why.  You may be the fifth student that semester to lose a grandmother right before an exam.  To be honest, most students trying to come up with excuses just aren't that clever and/or don't seem to realize their "brilliant idea" isn't brilliant (or original).

But what if -- in your case -- it IS real?  What if that grandmother raised you, or you were especially close to him/her?  When my maternal grandmother died, my brother went AWOL (briefly) from the navy to come home to Illinois for the funeral.  Fortunately, our uncle (a navy vet) got him back to base before it was discovered.  And my own son is quite close to my father.  Even if he knows Grandpa can't live forever (he's 88 now), it will still be very hard on my son when he has to stand there and watch his grandfather's casket lowered into the ground.

For many younger people, the loss of a grandparent is the first significant loss in their lives.  In cases where a student really didn't know the grandparent that well, his or her mother or father may be distraught and that, in turn, upsets the student.  Or at the very least, the now-adult (if young adult) child may be needed at home to help get the necessary tasks done, which other family members may be too upset to handle.

Yet when the student informs his/her professor of this personal tragedy, the professor (cold-heartedly) demands proof or documentation on top of everything else!

Unfortunately, we have to.  Too many students have misused that excuse to the point it makes us instantly dubious ... fairly or not.  It isn't that we don't care if you really DID lose your grandmother (or grandfather, uncle, aunt, cousin, best-friend from grade school).  As someone who used to work in ER, ICU, oncology and cardiology, I understand that the closest ties in our lives aren't always to the standard "immediate family," and the death, at only 36, of the cousin who was like a sister, after two bouts with ovarian cancer (love and remember you still, Bren), can hurt just as much as the death of a "real" sister.

But some students don't respect the sanctity of anything.  They'll lie through their teeth and cry great big crocodile tears in my office ... only to come up empty handed when asked for documentation.  This makes me really, REALLY angry ... not just at the lie, but because it makes me doubt students who may truly be hurting, and don't need unsympathetic professors on top of everything else.

Your professors do want to care about you, and your struggles, even those outside the classroom.

So a word to the wise student ....

1) Do what one of my students just did ... send your professor an email if a grandparent (or other) is in especially ill-health, or if there's a new diagnosis.  My student emailed to alert me that her grandmother had just been diagnosed with pancreatic cancer and wasn't expected to last to the end of the year.  She wasn't asking for time off right now, and might not need any ... but she could.  She just wanted to let me know the situation.

This helps me, as a professor, enormously.  Admittedly, it also helps that she's heretofore been a very good student with excellent attendance, inclining me to take her email seriously.  Students with spotty or bad attendance who send such a letter will still be regarded with more doubt, but it's preferable to not letting a professor know at all.

I wrote back to tell her I was very sorry, and to keep me informed -- which lets me express genuine sorrow.  It also lets me know to keep an eye on her grades, as -- if she's worried about her grandmother (and/or her parents), that could (and probably will) affect her grade.  If she starts to show a decline, I can pull her aside and see if I can help.  And, of course, if the worst-case scenario happens, I know ahead of time.  She'll still have to bring documentation, but she won't get any skepticism from me in finding a time for her to make up her exam.

Honestly, this is how professors would rather react to a student dealing with a crisis outside of school.  Because people DO die, and bereavement is a process.  Students may think their professors are "too busy" to hear about family matters or, for other reasons, are embarrassed to share them.  And yes, there are professors who honestly just don't care.  But a lot of us DO.

Please keep us informed.

This goes for more than just illnesses in the family, by the way ... if a student is going through a divorce, or the break-up of a long-term relationship, if a student's wife or sister is pregnant and experiencing complications, if a student has a family member in trouble with the law, if a student just lost his/her job, if a student is fighting with parents, if a student is struggling with depression or other illness ...  let professors know.  Some of those may feel embarrassing or shaming, and students may not want to admit to them, but we really need to know.  We can be a lot more sympathetic.

2) If the death is sudden -- and sometimes there isn't much warning -- do try to remember to inform your professor immediately.  The more specific a student is, the more authentic it will sound:

Dear Professor ____,

My mother's mother, ____ ____ (give the name), died yesterday evening of [pneumonia with complications ... or whatever].  I need to drive/fly to ______ for the funeral and to help my [parents/whoever] make arrangements.  The funeral is scheduled for/I believe the funeral will be scheduled for ____, and I expect to be back in town by _____.  I'll bring documentation and contact you as soon as I can to schedule a make-up.

Thank you,
_______
Class # and hour

One may not know (yet) all those details, but the more specific, the more likely a professor is to believe the note.  ALWAYS promise to provide documentation.  For funerals/deaths in the family, there's usually a funeral-home-printed memorium or church program and/or plane tickets ... although be sure to ask, if the professor hasn't specified in the syllabus.  Yes, this may seem like just ONE MORE THING to worry about, but it's important, and will make life much smoother upon returning home to resume one's regular schedule.

3) In rare cases, a death even in the extended family can result in so much chaos in a student's life, or such an extended absence in order to deal with the fall-out, that it becomes the better part of valor to consider withdrawing for that semester.  This may depend somewhat on WHEN in the semester it happens.  If nearer the beginning, a withdrawal is a good idea.  If it happens right at the end, and most of a student's coursework is complete, then it may be possible to request an incomplete for the semester, and make up the final bit the next semester.

I've spoken to students who fear their professors will be angry, upset, or insulted if they have to withdraw for "personal" reasons.  I can't promise none will be; I've met a few jerks in academia.  But most professors have lives (and families) outside the university themselves, and understand perfectly well that, well, "Shit happens."  I've had students come to me, apologetic for needing to withdraw, but they go with my blessing.  Really ... take care of your family.  There is NOTHING more important in life than the people near and dear to you -- no, not even your degree.

As noted above, I used to work in hospitals before going into academia, and I spent some time counseling not just for ER and ICU, but also for oncology and cardiology.  I have seen -- far more than I wished -- that child, sibling, friend, other who decided his/her job/meeting/class/what-have-you was Too Important To Miss [tm].  He (or she, but frankly, it was usually "he") arrived at the hospital TOO LATE.  His/her parent/sibling/friend was already dead.  No good-byes.  And it stopped that person in his/her tracks.  PEOPLE are the most important "things" in our lives.  School is important, to be sure.  Sometimes I wish especially younger students took it a little more seriously.  But people are more important than school.  Or work.  Or that promotion.  Or playing in the Big Game.  Or whatever.

Take care of your family.  Even if that means withdrawing for a semester -- take care of your family.  School will still be there when you get done.  And most of your professors will not hold it against you, if you must withdraw.  In fact, I've had students do so, then sign up for the same class with me later.  I'm happy to have them back when they're ready and able to concentrate -- not be distracted and at their wits' end.

But my main advice is ... Keep your professors apprised of what's going on in your personal life, especially if it's potentially disruptive.  Regard them the same way you might a boss.  Honestly, we don't want to be skeptical and heartless.  But too many students trying for sympathy when they're simply lazy have made us so.

Help us trust that your crisis is the Real Deal.