On The Meaning Of Sex

Amazon came calling today, and dropped off a new book I’ve been meaning to read since it came out. It’s called On the Meaning of Sex, by Professor J. Budziszewski. Like any other ravenous bibliophile, I opened up the package as soon as I could and started reading. Immediately I sensed this will become a favorite book of mine. I’ve had the privilege of sitting down and chatting with Professor “J. Bud” (as he apparently is usually called, since, well, his last name is a mouthful!), and he brings clarity of thought, in spades. I still have the notes from our conversation which have proven helpful to me, and he’s also been gracious enough to answer a few emails from time to time where I know his expertise can help me. It’s strange to recommend a book before finishing it, but I’m already excited enough that I think you should go and read it too–but I’ll be posting my thoughts as I go through it. This section in particular grabbed me:

The final motive [I have] for writing such a book is that my eyes are so full of the pain I see around me that if I did not have the relief of writing, they would be full of tears instead. Errors about sex cause such terrible suffering, in our day more than in most. The worst is the suffering of those who no longer know they are in torment, for it is simply a lie that everyone is happy who believes himself happy, a slander that nobody is suffering unless he thinks that he is. I would wish these sufferers joy, but if by writing the book I could do no more than dip the end of my finger in water to cool their tongues, then that would be wish enough.

This recalls to mind my previous post, where those of us who have turned our back on our former life recall being as happy as we knew how to be.

Go buy yourself a copy, or get it out of the library somewhere close by. I think it’s destined to be a classic.

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