The Role of Negative Examples

I once received a Native American ceremonial rattle: a buffalo rib painted with red ochre, ornamented with a raw hide thong that secured crow feathers, a coyote tooth, and a patinated, over-sized  brass jingle bell.  The legend on an attached card said that in the Lakota Sioux tradition personalities and roles were grouped into clans or societies.  This rattle belonged to the small group known as the “rotten-bellies,” the naturally disruptive.  At social gatherings and even during sacred rituals, these few might fart and belch (hence, a rotten belly), speak out of turn and otherwise misbehave.  Rotten bellies were at the almost intolerable edge of society.  But they served an important service—to be negative examples.  A parent or leader might say to a child, “Stop that.  You don’t want to grow up to be a rotten belly, do you?”  The child had a palpable and disgusting, example before her or him.

This is a rather odd lead-in to tragic celebrity deaths, such as just occurred for Whitney Houston at age 48, a fallen diva of the 1980s and early 1990s.  She was found DOA in a Hollywood hotel bathtub on the eve of the Grammy Awards.  The autopsy report is being withheld.  Foul play isn’t suspected.  She may have drowned.  Probably drugs and/or alcohol played a part. 

Her history of drug and alcohol abuse long provided grist for the great American celebrity media mill.  A famous interview in which she claimed “crack is wack” became the subject of comedy spoofs.  Her stormy marriage to another celebrity singer likewise played prominently in popular culture—a latter day Ike and Tina Turner maelstrom of outrageous behavior, possibly including physical abuse.

How could someone so beautiful, so talented, and so successful, who grew up in a religious setting and who sang inspirational songs, allow herself to succumb to such publicly-apparent mistreatment and self-destruction? Whitney Houston, who seemingly had it all, inspiring a generation of young women, especially young black women, how could she not be the happiest woman in the world?

Once the initial grief and the tributes to her greatness have waned, there will be opportunity for the tragic arc of her life to be explored.  Now, there is simplistic talk of demons  she battled with.  Then, there will be more thoughtful analysis of influences that led her into torment and an early death, and even more important, choices she made to feed a downward spiral ending in a hotel bathtub. A cautionary tale of her life waits to be told—needs to be told.

Why do I say needs to be told?

As society has evolved, becoming at least not so much familial or tribal, rather somewhat global, our examples increasingly come from the media and involve celebrity.  Once, Whitney Houston provided a positive example. Iconic is a popular descriptive.   Now, in death, she provides a negative example, as the rotten bellies once did for the Lakota Sioux.  Her life narrative is complete.

I don’t pick on Whitney Houston in a gossip-mongering or in a peek–through-the-keyhole and invade her  privacy sort of way.  She chose to be a celebrity and reaped the benefits.  As a society we are justified in seeking the meaning of her death.

I think we can, in a loving way for our children, say, “Look at her life.  This is what brought on her fall and an untimely death.  Don’t you do the self-destructive things she did.”

Romney and Religion

For me it was a bizarre moment in a presidential candidates' debate.  A Charleston audience huzzahed Newt Gingrich for being "appalled" at John King's opening question regarding a former wife's allegations.  She claimed that  Gingrich asked her for an "open marriage" so he could could continue an adulterous affair with the woman who subsequently became his third wife. In essence, Gingrich took King to task, implicating him as part of a "media elite" that is pro-Obama.

So an audience, surely strong on traditional family values and leaning toward conservative Christianity, resoundingly cheered  a thrice married, twice divorced, admitted adulterer.  Gingrich won the primary a couple of days later, decisively defeating Mitt Romney, whom the pundits, for weeks, had projected the likely winner.

In vivid contrast, Romney represents family values lived: a faithful husband in a long marriage to a high school sweetheart, a dedicated father, and a man of faith long-dedicated as lay-clergy and local leader to his birth church to which he tithes.  And there's the rub.  Romney is a Mormon.

In the wake of the South Carolina primary, a negative response to Romney's Mormon identity is being questioned.  The consensus concludes, it was less of an issue for South Carolina's Evangelicals than it was four years ago; but such a view doesn't dismiss it altogether as an issue.

The Protestant right and Catholics, too, don't find Mormonism to be Christian, despite Mormon contentions that they are.

There's an unspoken religious litmus test for political candidates that relates to belief in God--the God of the Jewish Christian tradition, preferably a conservative Christian take on that God. (It's been proven by reputable polls that the most reviled minority in America are atheists.)  For most Americans, Mormonism  stands outside the Christian pale.

The pundits are beginning to say that Romney must address his staunch Mormon identity, that it's the elephant in the room of his crumbling campaign.  It's not easy to pin down why Mitt Romney doesn't excite popular enthusiasm. On appearance, except for his Mormonism, he should.  He's what used to be called "four square."

So, a socially conservative audience, huzzahed a morally suspect Newt Gingrich when challenged on his character/behavior; and a conservative electorate made him the anti-Romney of the week.

Religion matters.