Oh dear, that boring old Theology of the Body thing seems to be back.
Not content with spending 2000 years making sex “bad” in one sense, the Church got the genius idea to spend the next 2000 making it “bad” in another.
I don’t want Jesus in my damn bedroom, thanks very much, and I don’t feel like trying to match up my sexual activities to match up to the unrealistic transcendental (and borrrrrriiiiiiinnnnnnnggggggg) ethereal ideal that some highly cerebral, celibate guy wrote about in some unreadable book once.
I feel really sorry for Catholics who “live” like this. Had Margaret Atwood been more sophisticated and knowledgeable, she would have used Theology of the Body in A Handmaid’s Tale, not that obscure Old Testamant verse she stumbled upon instead.
And you know what? When a man criticizes a female writer for her “tone,” that prevents me from giving him “a receptive hearing.” So there.
Every day I thank God I didn’t go to college. Dawn Eden was too smart to do it. She should have known better. But it’s too late now.
