The Itch

It is the colossal failure of some (not all) calls to abstinence, when there is nothing grand or beautiful beyond to stir a genuine human longing.  For the call to abstinence, detached from the deepest human realities – and detached from a community wherein one might hear such songs as Prudentius composed – is nothing more than a call not to scratch the itch.  It acknowledges the itch.  It reminds us of the itch.  It allows the itch to creep.  It permits the prurience of magazines, library books, advertising campaigns, politicians, video games, all the little spikes and prickles of a consumptive economy, coughing and coughing.  Then it says, “In all these other ways you may debase yourself.  You may scratch here, here, here, and here, but not here.”

More via Life Under Compulsion: The Itch | Front Porch Republic.

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