How I Became an Agent of Satan

I had my students read the George Saunders story "Sea Oak" last week, as a sort of Halloween treat. Then I gave them a quiz, as an extra treat. As I was grading the quizzes today, I found a note from one student, which read, "My faith will not allow me to discuss this story, due to its graphic content. 'Let the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart be acceptable in thy sight, O Lord.'"

I stared at the note for a while, and then, because I didn't know what else to do, I wrote in the rest of the quotation, "...my strength and my redeemer, Psalm 19:14." As a former Bible Drill state finalist, it bugged me to see the verse incomplete. I didn't know what else to say, though. This was a good student, not someone trying to get out of an assignment. It didn't seem right to count off for her sticking to her beliefs.

I get frustrated, though, with the number of students students who want to be sheltered from the big scary literature. When I was a freshman, I was a member of the Baptist student union. I owned every album DC Talk put out. I sincerely believed that Jesus was reading my thoughts every second of the day, and so I would silently apologize whenever I thought anything bad. And yet, when my comparative literature professor assigned the Marquis de Sade's Justine, it never once occurred to me to refuse to read it or write about it.

As best as I can remember it, every time Justine tries to be virtuous, something horrible happens to her. She becomes the sex slave of some evil monks, some guy performs a series of bizarre surgeries on her--I think at one point she was dipped in honey so that flies could slowly eat her skin? It's been twelve years since I read it, but I remember that it scared the crap out of me. Meanwhile, her long lost sister decides that moral compromise is Ok with her, so she becomes a high-class prostitute and ends up marrying a nobleman, and then everyone says what a virtuous woman she is, because she's rich and powerful. Then Justine gets struck by lightning. It took me that long to figure out that it was satire. (I was used to Jane Austen, who almost never wrote about evil monks and their sex slaves.) But when I did, I thought, Oh. That's actually hilarious. And that paved the way for a lot of other great books that I might not have read otherwise.

I finally wrote my student a note saying that I understood her position (she has no idea how much), but that I hoped she might give Saunders another chance, that his story is meant as satire, and he's not suggesting we should all become strippers (or zombies) any more than Jonathan Swift really wanted to eat babies.

Or maybe I'm thinking about this wrong. Maybe reading Justine was what sent me down the path of unrighteousness that I'm on today. Growing up, I was taught Colossians 2:8, "See to it that you are not taken captive by hollow and deceptive philosophy that depends more on the teachings of this world than on Christ." But no, I had to go and listen to my godless pinko professor instead of the Lord. And now I'm passing my evil ways on to my own students.


Bwa-ha-ha-ha-ha...