Published March 9, 1989. Several years ago I was teaching a graduate course on family
life at a university in the Midwest. There were about eight students in the
class, and one day we were discussing human sexuality. Somehow we got on the
topic of extra-marital sex, and near the end of the class one student asked me
an unusual question. He asked me if I had ever committed adultery. I responded
that I had not. The student, in his late 20s, asked a follow-up question, “Why
not?”
My first impulse was to suggest almost all of my values in
life came from my parents and subsequently our religious training. I simply
wanted to quote one of the Ten Commandments: “Thou shalt not commit adultery.”
That was and still is sufficient for me.
But the class of graduate students was not particularly
religiously inclined, individually or collectively. So the immediate challenge
for me as a professor was obvious. Are there reasons not to commit adultery
beyond one’s religious values?
The students knew I came from a fairly conservative
religious background. One older student lit his pipe, leaned back, and suggested
my religious upbringing was undoubtedly restrictive and could even have been
suppressive. I responded it could possibly be perceived that way but then
suggested that religious teachings are not necessarily given to restrict our
freedoms. Perhaps they are there to protect us from consequences.
I suggested that one definition of maturity is the ability
to anticipate specific consequences of specific behavior. I then explained that
I didn’t have to have an extra-marital sexual experience to realize the many
consequences it would bring. In fact, the anticipated consequences were quite
vivid in my mind.
I conceded there might be some momentary pleasure in such an
experience, but then again, there might not. I also realized that there could
be other physical consequences of such an act. I might father a child out of
wedlock. I could envision the resultant consequences of having to deal with
that in my life. I suggested I might contract some kind of disease. The man
with the pipe smirked and looked at the other students. (I might add at that
time we had not yet heard of AIDS.)
I told the class for me there would be social consequences if such an act became known to others. I told the class about my wife
Susan and our children. I did not have to have the experience to envision the
reality of coming home and having to discuss my “affair” with them. At that
point my wife and children might choose not to live with me. That would be a
real consequence!
I could also anticipate having to confront such behavior
with others I cared about including neighbors, parents, family and friends. I
also explained that I was the assistant minister in our church congregation
(actually in an LDS bishopric) and likely would be removed from that position,
and I might, in fact, lose my church membership. The social consequences for me
were real. The eight students were amazed.
There would be for me, I continued, great mental
consequences. I would probably feel very guilty and suffer mental anguish over
such an act. One student suggested I should learn to ignore the guilt. I
replied that would be like ignoring the blinking lights on the car dashboard
when the oil is low or the radiator is out of water. Guilt is one mental
indication that something in life is out of balance.
As the class drew to a close I wanted to tell the graduate
students that perhaps the main reason I had never committed adultery was
primarily because of anticipated spiritual consequences. But the bell rang, and
they left the classroom.
That night I went home, picked up the Bible, and read
Proverbs 6:22: “Whoso committeth adultery with a woman lacketh understanding:
he that doeth it destroyeth his own soul.”
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