Introduction

Summary

While I was writing this book, I was invited to speak to a church women's group. Upon what topic, it was inquired, might I address the gathering?

“My research deals with religion and sexuality in American fiction,” I replied.

“Oh!” (punctuated with a noncomedic pause). “We'll have to tone that down a bit,” responded the respectable female on the other end of the line. “This is a serious group of people, and the men will want to join the women for the lecture.”

I was amused by the idea that in the 1980s putting “religion” and “sexuality” in the same sentence could produce a minor consternation, for my research was clearly indicating that, historically speaking, Americans have long been familiar with the partnership of religion and sexuality, even if it is professed to be a dangerous public topic for an audience of mixed sex.

There is nothing intrinsically antagonistic about religion and sexuality except insomuch as a particular culture defines the two experiences as conflictual. Hinduism, for example, is structured by the forcefield ofsacred sexuality, and many Native American and African religions similarly incorporate the mystery and power of human sexuality as expressions of carefully controlled sacred energy. Cultural realms dominated by monotheism (in this book, the monotheism is Christianity), however, treat religion and sexuality as a binary opposition – a tensive pairing in which “religion” is the dominant term, “sexuality” the lesser term.