Robert Heinlein - Stranger in a Strange Land

“So? Minds me of a married woman who was very proud of her virtue. She slept with other men only when her husband was away.”

“Why, Jubal, the two cases aren’t even slightly alike!”

“Probably not. Analogy is even slipperier than logic. But, ‘little lady’—”

“Smile when you call me that!”

“‘It’s a joke.’ Why didn’t you spit in his face? He had to stay on his good behavior no matter what we did; Digby wanted him to. But, Jill, if a thing is sinful on Sunday, it is sinful on Friday—at least it groks that way to an outsider, myself… or perhaps to a man from Mars. The only difference I can see is that the Fosterites give away, absolutely free, a scriptural text even if you lose. Could your Bingo games make the same claim?”

“Fake scripture, you mean. A text from the New Revelation. Boss, have you read the thing?”

“I’ve read it.”

“Then you know. It’s just dressed up in Biblical language. Part of it is just icky-sweet with no substance, like a saccharine tablet, more of it is sheer nonsense… and some of it is just hateful. None of it makes sense, it isn’t even good morals.”

Jubal was silent so long that Jill thought he had gone to sleep. At last he said, “Jill, are you familiar with Hindu sacred writings?”

“Mmm, I’m afraid not.”

“The Koran? Or any other major scripture? I could illustrate my point from the Bible but I would not wish to hurt your feelings.”

“Uh, I’m afraid I’m not much of a scholar, Jubal. Go ahead, you won’t hurt my feelings.”

“Well, I’ll stick to the Old Testament, picking it to pieces usually doesn’t upset people quite so much. You know the story of Sodom and Gomorrah? And how Lot was saved from these wicked cities when Yahweh smote ’em with a couple of heavenly A-bombs?”

“Oh, yes, of course. His wife was turned into a pillar of salt.”

“Caught by the fallout, perhaps. She tarried and looked back. Always seemed to me to be too stiff a punishment for the peccadillo of female curiosity. But we were speaking of Lot. Saint Peter describes him as a just, Godly, and righteous man, vexed by the filthy conversation of the wicked. I think we must stipulate Saint Peter to be an authority on virtue, since to him was given the keys to the Kingdom of Heaven. But if you search the only records concerning Lot, in the Old Testament, it becomes hard to determine exactly what Lot did or did not do that established him as such a paragon. He divided up a cattle range at his brother’s suggestion. He got captured in a battle. When he was tipped off, he lammed out of town in time to save his skin. He fed and sheltered two strangers overnight but his conduct shows that he knew them to be V.I.P.s whether or not he knew they were angels—and by the Koran and by my own lights, his hospitality would have counted for more if he had thought they were just a couple of unworthy poor in need of a pad and a handout. Aside from these insignificant items and Saint Peter’s character reference, there is just one thing that Lot did mentioned anywhere in the Bible on which we can judge his virtue—virtue so great, mind you, that heavenly intercession saved his life. See chapter nineteen of Genesis, verse eight.”

“And what does it say?”

“Look it up when we get home. I don’t expect you to believe me.”

“Jubal! You’re the most infuriating man I’ve ever met.”

“And you’re a very pretty girl and a fair cook, so I don’t mind your ignorance. All right, I’ll tell you—then you look it up anyhow. Some of Lot’s neighbors came and beat on his door and wanted to meet these two blokes from out of town. Lot didn’t fight with them; he offered ’em a deal instead. He had two young daughters, virgins—at least, such was his opinion—and he told this crowd of men that he would give them these two little girls and they could use them any way they liked—a gang shagging, a midnight revue, he pleaded with them to do any damn thing they pleased to his daughters… only please go ’way and quit beating on his door.”

“Jubal… does it really say that?”

“Look it up yourself. I’ve modernized the language but the meaning is as unmistakable as a whore’s wink. Lot offered to let a gang of men—‘young and old,’ the Bible says—abuse two young virgins under his protection if only they wouldn’t break down his door. Say!” Jubal leaned forward and beamed. “Maybe I should have tried that when the S.S. was breaking my door down! Maybe it would have got me into heaven—and Saint Peter knows my chances aren’t too good otherwise.” Then he frowned and looked worried. “No, it wouldn’t have worked. The recipe plainly calls for ‘virgins intactae’—and I wouldn’t have known which two of you gals to offer those troopers.”

“Hmmph! You won’t find out from me.”

“Possibly I couldn’t find out from any of you. Even Lot might have been mistaken. But that’s what he promised ’em—his virgin daughters, young and tender and scared—urged this street gang to rape them as much as they wished in any way they liked … if only they would leave him in peace?” Jubal snorted in disgust. “And the Bible cites this sort of scum as being a righteous man.”

Jill said slowly, “I don’t think that’s quite the way we were taught it in Sunday School.”

“Damn it, look it up! They probably gave you a Bowdlerized version. That’s not the only shock in store for anybody who actually reads the Bible. Consider Elisha. It says here that Elisha was so all-fired holy that merely touching his bones restored a dead man to life. But he was a baldheaded old coot, like myself. So one day some children made fun of his baldness, just as you girls do. So God personally interceded and sent two bears to tear forty-two small children into bloody bits. That’s what it says—second chapter of Second Kings.”

“Boss, I never make fun of your bald head.”

“Who was it sent my name to those hair-restorer quacks? Dorcas, maybe? Whoever it was, God knows—and she had better keep a sharp eye out for bears. I might turn pious in my dotage and start enjoying divine protection. But I shan’t give you any more samples. The Bible is loaded with such stuff; read it and find out. Crimes that would turn your stomach are asserted to be either divinely ordered or divinely condoned… along with, I must add, a lot of hard common sense and some pretty workable rules for social behavior. I am not running down the Bible; it stacks up pretty well as sacred writings go. It isn’t a patch on the sadistic, pornographic trash that goes by the name of sacred writings among the Hindus. Or a dozen other religions. But I’m not singling out any of them for condemnation, either; it is entirely conceivable that some one of these mutually contradictory mythologies is the literal word of God… that God is in truth the sort of bloodthirsty paranoid who would rend to bits forty-two children for the crime of sassing one of his priests. Don’t ask me about the Front Office’s policies; I just work here. My point is that Foster’s New Revelation that you’re so contemptuous of is pure sweetness-and-light as scripture goes. Bishop Digby’s Patron is a pretty good Joe; He wants people to be happy-happy here on Earth plus guaranteed eternal bliss in Heaven. He doesn’t expect you to chastise the flesh here and now in order to reap rewards after you’re dead. Oh no! this is the modern giant economy package. If you like to drink and gamble and dance and wench—and most people do—come to church and do it under holy auspices. Do it with your conscience free of any trace of guilt. Really have fun at it. Live it up! Get happy!”

Jubal failed to look happy himself. He went on, “Of course there’s a slight charge; Digby’s God expects to be acknowledged as such—but that has been a foible of gods always. Anyone who is stupid enough to refuse to get happy on His terms is a sinner… and a sinner deserves anything that happens to him. But this is one rule common to all gods and goddesses throughout history; don’t blame Foster and Digby, they didn’t invent it. Their brand of snake oil is utterly orthodox in all respects.”