Why should it be a sin to desire another man’s woman? It seemed unfair to me from the very first time I heard about it.
Explaining the genesis of my opinion would take a long time, requiring discussions of specific cases, principles, customs, and epochs, as well as emancipation and objectivity. I might do it anyway and probably say something foolish, but I’ll warn you: despite my ideas changing shape and content over the years, I hope no one, especially the most orthodox, condemns me for them.
In fact, as a sympathizer and fan of many divine matters, I rarely let my sarcasm degenerate into arrogance, especially after meals when my mood improves. I avoid making pitiless comparisons between the times of the Exodus and today or oversimplifying, except in jest or casual conversations with friends. Just because certain conduct rules from 3,000 years ago seem outdated doesn’t mean they were entirely wrong.
Some rules I still follow willingly—like giving way to someone on the street, not emptying a plate completely, or turning off the light when leaving a room I’ll return to—without anyone forcing me. It’s like being a convict who’s grown accustomed to wearing chains and feels uneasy when freed. Still, “do not desire another man’s woman” always seemed like a cryptic message to me, unrelated to the still-useful rule of not bothering engaged women. It condemns something involuntary and impossible to ban, like breathing or a heartbeat.
Okay, Matthew suggested Jesus also advised plucking out an eye if it sinned to avoid dragging the rest into Gehenna. To me, that sounds like another rule meant for explanation, not to be taken too literally. If I could ask Moses something, first and foremost, I’d ask: How can you judge a bad thought if the action is good? Can I be held guilty if, under pressure, I resist thanks to willpower, consistency, or because the only happiness I desire requires not contradicting my will and consistency?
Can someone who’s tempted but doesn’t give in be condemned? And is someone who has no temptations necessarily holy, or do they just lack imagination? If I’m at a crossroads and hesitate about turning right, but choose to go left, why should I be reproached for “desiring” to go right? I’ll probably be wrong, but paraphrasing Tolstoy, shouldn’t men never judge other men’s faults? At most, they could temporarily agree on behaviors to encourage or discourage in a particular setting. Who could be arrogant enough to believe there’s a rule that’s always right?
It’s pointless to deny, dear Moses, that composing incomprehensible rules without explanations or implementing decrees makes them susceptible to arbitrary interpretations and subjects people to concrete possibilities of injustice. Doubt does educate us to compromise with our sense of justice, which is positive because it smooths out the edges of our presumption, making us less haughty and more lovable. However, it diminishes our knowledge, which is meager anyway. Thinking we know it all is prideful, another bad thing. Lucky are those who truly know nothing.
Why isn’t the mere desire to kill or steal considered a sin? Why say “do not steal” while for another man’s woman, a mere thought suffices? Was it a translator’s mistake? The doubt arises: did the language evolve, and did “do not commit adultery” and “do not fornicate”—which were perhaps a bit brutal in catechism school but certainly more evocative—become “do not desire,” which now sounds like a commandment for jealous girlfriends? “I saw you looking at the neighbor’s behind! God will punish you!”
There’s another commandment, “do not covet thy neighbor’s property,” but it’s likely meant as a subliminal invitation to an Epicurean approach to life—before Epicurus himself and before someone deemed him a heathen—encouraging contentment with what one has. However, regarding women, there’s only that one rule. Perhaps, since the commandment about property comes right after, it was meant to consider a woman as one’s property, which wouldn’t have seemed as offensive to female dignity back then as it does now.
Okay, I’d like to give Moses the benefit of the doubt because carving commandments into stone wasn’t easy. Being concise was probably necessary in the desert with bare hands. Moses had shown his impulsive character in a couple of other situations. Maybe we should just assume he was in a hurry and try to find an interpretation for his laws that fits both then and now, given how differently people think and conceive things.
One remembers that while Moses was working, the recipients of his laws were busy melting gold to build an idol to worship. So, who am I to judge the suitability of a message addressed to others? Evidently, Moses knew his people well. Perhaps those words seemed more fitting back then than they do now. If Moses had written, say, “keep your word,” which would perhaps be the best commandment of the ten—if only because it would make paradise more comfortable, with two or three people—it might make sense. Fidelity is indeed a promise kept; it has to do with consistency, virtue, and truth.
However, desiring another man’s woman starts earlier, along with desiring a woman who belongs to no one; it has to do with what you see, what you can’t help but see, what you hear, what you can’t help but hear, and what you know—since not all women who are desired have the name of their husband tattooed on their forehead. It has to do, above all, with what you choose as right after seeing, hearing, and knowing. For many individuals, it must be a often futile suffering to pretend not to see, like someone who loves lasagna having to resist the urge to taste carbonara out of loyalty to lasagna. Everyone loves lasagna, what does that mean? Fidelity is a subsequent choice, like veganism or choosing a favorite sports team. It has nothing to do with instincts or the rules of attraction.
I think we should talk about this. We should really get together, like Moses with his followers or Jesus with the Pharisees, and decide whether certain rules—even if they are sonorously outdated, loudly sexist, antidemocratic, and contrary to the most accepted biological and anthropological laws—should endure or finally be replaced. I, for example, would humbly propose inserting “desire what you want, but be consistent with what you choose,” paired with the always useful “never betray the trust of those who give it to you.” Of course, I bow to better proposals. I’m sure there wouldn’t be a lack of prophets, even budding ones, more creative than me.
It’s known that empathizing with saints and disciples is rare; the destiny of suffering and sacrifice is not coveted, while everyone aspires to divinity, taking as a model the known gods of Greek and Latin mythology, with their opulent immortal lives. Man, eternally precarious, or rather precariously precarious, loves and thanks for what he has because he’s wise and understands he could lose it, but he necessarily desires what he lacks. It’s in his nature, and he can’t help but do it, except then resist, not being completely at the mercy of his senses, and live consistently with his principles and choices. He has nothing but his word and the available time to honor it or take it back; the rest doesn’t exist, and if it does, it doesn’t count, and if it counts, it’s all Moses’ fault.