"On my honor..."
Sep. 5th, 2006 10:46 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
stitchwhichI should warn you that I ended up not creating a filter – some folks read this without LJ subscriptions and I think their input is too valuable to block them out. So we’ll just have to trust each other.
So. What does your word mean to you? Or maybe I should start with what my word means to me. That seems fair since it’s my journal. There’s a saying, “A Witch is only as good as her word.” It didn’t seem like much of a slap in the face when I first heard it – I grew up in the West, in one of those weird areas where contracts were negotiated by a handshake and a head nod, where every person helped their neighbor because sure as you’re sitting there, you were going to need help sometime too. “A man’s word is his bond.” That was unquestioned when I was a kid.
And it went deep. Sure, I lied like every kid does, and sometimes still do; through exaggeration, through kind omission, and sometimes even through fear to say what really is true. But when it comes to giving my word – well – lying isn’t in the cards. And neither is denying the promise once it’s made. I fought to stay in the Navy when we learned that I had a fatal heart condition. I’d given my word and since the doctors speculated that I could complete my tour without being a burden to my mates, well, then, that was that. I had sworn to do that.
Before that happened, I had a brief and very painful marriage of 6 months. A stupid episode in a young seaman’s life… an overnight trip to Reno, a dare, and the dumb bravado of an 18-year-old found me married to a boy I barely knew. Spoiled, self-centered, handsome… bigoted. I was vowed, by my own words, to a life with the guy. How vowed? I’d promised the whole gig, even down to “obey”. Life became hell rather quickly. See, I believe that a promise must be kept unless the one you gave it to releases you from it. And I had promised God that I would stay married to this man, for better or worse, and all the rest of it. Three days after we moved into our apartment, he told me that I had to give my child (preggers - told you I was young and stupid!) up for adoption. It wasn’t his and he didn’t want to raise it… the idea of leaving him, of disowning the marriage, never even seriously crossed my mind. Because – I trusted God that there was a purpose to what I was experiencing. And I had made a promise to Him. I had brought it on myself, knowingly, bound myself to that man and unless the Almighty spoke to me, well, I’d made my bed. (This is not to say that I didn't later came to be relieved that the guy did not want to raise that child – I did not want anyone I loved to experience life with him in authority over them… and I loved that baby. I have no true heartache about obeying my husband – the child went to the couple I believe were supposed to be his parents and I regained my joy in the miracle of life once I met them and was able to right the medical mistake that had denied them their child. And a future with that nasty man as 'daddy' was averted from an innocent's life.) So. After giving birth and all that, I came home to a husband who kicked me out of the apartment hours after I cleaned all the sticky traces of his extended party off of our bed, couch, kitchen… it wasn’t until the Church annulled the marriage and a priest convinced me that it was not a 'true marriage in the eyes of God" that I felt free to date again. Until then, so far as I was concerned my vows to God still bound me to a set of rules I had voluntarily assumed. That the husband did not honor his vows was, as far as I’m concerned, his problem – and nothing that would affect my own. That was between him and God. Mine were the same – between me and the Almighty.
When Arni and I married, we carefully went over every contingency, every situation that could arise in our imaginary future and planned our vows based on those… we did not promise to ‘cleave only unto each other’ – he was a sailor gone on long cruises and I had no illusions about what men did (or women, either) after being in a life-or-death situation. Or even after just spending 3 months staring at grey walls and green water. In considering that, I was able to realize that sexual fidelity was not a cornerstone of what I considered ‘marriage’ – partnership, trust, and investment in each other until death do us part was what I considered “married”. And when we stood before God and made those promises to Him, that’s what we vowed. Not sexual exclusitivity, but trust, support, and a life as man and wife until we die. We will never divorce. That is the promise we made. Not to each other, although some folks do in their weddings, but to God. And that, so far as I am concerned, is sacred.
You’ll see me flinch or frown, sometimes, poly-person that I have become, when someone steps outside of their marriage for a fling. It’s not about the sex – it’s about the lightness with which they damage their relationship with the Almighty. If they are folks who made their vows to each other, oh well, that they can alter as it suits them, as they need to continue their relationship. But if they have stood before God and made the ‘standard promises’, well… I pity them. Because it seems to me that they have carved a place out of their honor to fill with a passing pleasure. And it’s a fleeting filling, like rock candy in a cavity; it will dissolve in time and worse, damage the cavity hollowed out to set it in.
This is not to say that I don't support divorce. (And truthfully, MY choices are not YOUR choices.) What I support, expect, okay - hiope for - is honor in divorce. Respect for the other partner. The honesty that says, "I have failed my marriage vows" even if the circumstances are such that the choice is between suicide, murder, or divorce... because a person makes a choice, when they walk away from their marriage partner, to *honor their words before God* or to throw them over and pretend it didn't mean anything. And I admit, I judge those who I see going through that process... not without compassion, but still - how a person handles themselves when they are reniging on a promise to the Almighty is certainly going to affect how much I trust them in the near future. And I am not comfortable with that realisation about myself. Yet it would be dishonest to ignore that seeing someone discard promises to others affects how I expect to be able to trust in their actions towards me.
So that’s a life-vow sort of thing. But what about the little oaths we take – how serious are those? Have you ever really thought about say, the Boy Scout or Girl Scout oath? “On my honour, I will try…” Does the oath go away just because you’re not in the uniform anymore? Does your word to others, to the Unseen, dissolve after some arbitrary time limit? I don't think it does. Maybe that’s why the writers phrased it that way… “try”. So you can live the rest of your life and still honor those idealistic words.
What about the oaths you take in the SCA or any other social organization? I’m sure many folks noticed that Arn and I never joined in the mass ‘fealty taking’ while we were Baron and Baroness during the Coronations ceremony. I know I got asked about it every time. And every time, a puzzled look would appear on the face of the querant when we’d explain that we don’t swear blind oaths. Because we DO believe that our words are our bond. Even in a recreational setting. And when I make a promise, it is one that I will keep until released from it. So I think long and hard about what I say and who I am saying it to - and what conditions are in it.
So how do you view those types of oaths? In your world, are they ‘stage show’ words to create a mood? Something that you mean but with the unspoken reserve ‘unless real time interferes or I quit the ____”?
Does it diminish you, even if no one else knows, to break your word?
How do you deal with yourself when circumstances seem to force you to do so?
So. What does your word mean to you? Or maybe I should start with what my word means to me. That seems fair since it’s my journal. There’s a saying, “A Witch is only as good as her word.” It didn’t seem like much of a slap in the face when I first heard it – I grew up in the West, in one of those weird areas where contracts were negotiated by a handshake and a head nod, where every person helped their neighbor because sure as you’re sitting there, you were going to need help sometime too. “A man’s word is his bond.” That was unquestioned when I was a kid.
And it went deep. Sure, I lied like every kid does, and sometimes still do; through exaggeration, through kind omission, and sometimes even through fear to say what really is true. But when it comes to giving my word – well – lying isn’t in the cards. And neither is denying the promise once it’s made. I fought to stay in the Navy when we learned that I had a fatal heart condition. I’d given my word and since the doctors speculated that I could complete my tour without being a burden to my mates, well, then, that was that. I had sworn to do that.
Before that happened, I had a brief and very painful marriage of 6 months. A stupid episode in a young seaman’s life… an overnight trip to Reno, a dare, and the dumb bravado of an 18-year-old found me married to a boy I barely knew. Spoiled, self-centered, handsome… bigoted. I was vowed, by my own words, to a life with the guy. How vowed? I’d promised the whole gig, even down to “obey”. Life became hell rather quickly. See, I believe that a promise must be kept unless the one you gave it to releases you from it. And I had promised God that I would stay married to this man, for better or worse, and all the rest of it. Three days after we moved into our apartment, he told me that I had to give my child (preggers - told you I was young and stupid!) up for adoption. It wasn’t his and he didn’t want to raise it… the idea of leaving him, of disowning the marriage, never even seriously crossed my mind. Because – I trusted God that there was a purpose to what I was experiencing. And I had made a promise to Him. I had brought it on myself, knowingly, bound myself to that man and unless the Almighty spoke to me, well, I’d made my bed. (This is not to say that I didn't later came to be relieved that the guy did not want to raise that child – I did not want anyone I loved to experience life with him in authority over them… and I loved that baby. I have no true heartache about obeying my husband – the child went to the couple I believe were supposed to be his parents and I regained my joy in the miracle of life once I met them and was able to right the medical mistake that had denied them their child. And a future with that nasty man as 'daddy' was averted from an innocent's life.) So. After giving birth and all that, I came home to a husband who kicked me out of the apartment hours after I cleaned all the sticky traces of his extended party off of our bed, couch, kitchen… it wasn’t until the Church annulled the marriage and a priest convinced me that it was not a 'true marriage in the eyes of God" that I felt free to date again. Until then, so far as I was concerned my vows to God still bound me to a set of rules I had voluntarily assumed. That the husband did not honor his vows was, as far as I’m concerned, his problem – and nothing that would affect my own. That was between him and God. Mine were the same – between me and the Almighty.
When Arni and I married, we carefully went over every contingency, every situation that could arise in our imaginary future and planned our vows based on those… we did not promise to ‘cleave only unto each other’ – he was a sailor gone on long cruises and I had no illusions about what men did (or women, either) after being in a life-or-death situation. Or even after just spending 3 months staring at grey walls and green water. In considering that, I was able to realize that sexual fidelity was not a cornerstone of what I considered ‘marriage’ – partnership, trust, and investment in each other until death do us part was what I considered “married”. And when we stood before God and made those promises to Him, that’s what we vowed. Not sexual exclusitivity, but trust, support, and a life as man and wife until we die. We will never divorce. That is the promise we made. Not to each other, although some folks do in their weddings, but to God. And that, so far as I am concerned, is sacred.
You’ll see me flinch or frown, sometimes, poly-person that I have become, when someone steps outside of their marriage for a fling. It’s not about the sex – it’s about the lightness with which they damage their relationship with the Almighty. If they are folks who made their vows to each other, oh well, that they can alter as it suits them, as they need to continue their relationship. But if they have stood before God and made the ‘standard promises’, well… I pity them. Because it seems to me that they have carved a place out of their honor to fill with a passing pleasure. And it’s a fleeting filling, like rock candy in a cavity; it will dissolve in time and worse, damage the cavity hollowed out to set it in.
This is not to say that I don't support divorce. (And truthfully, MY choices are not YOUR choices.) What I support, expect, okay - hiope for - is honor in divorce. Respect for the other partner. The honesty that says, "I have failed my marriage vows" even if the circumstances are such that the choice is between suicide, murder, or divorce... because a person makes a choice, when they walk away from their marriage partner, to *honor their words before God* or to throw them over and pretend it didn't mean anything. And I admit, I judge those who I see going through that process... not without compassion, but still - how a person handles themselves when they are reniging on a promise to the Almighty is certainly going to affect how much I trust them in the near future. And I am not comfortable with that realisation about myself. Yet it would be dishonest to ignore that seeing someone discard promises to others affects how I expect to be able to trust in their actions towards me.
So that’s a life-vow sort of thing. But what about the little oaths we take – how serious are those? Have you ever really thought about say, the Boy Scout or Girl Scout oath? “On my honour, I will try…” Does the oath go away just because you’re not in the uniform anymore? Does your word to others, to the Unseen, dissolve after some arbitrary time limit? I don't think it does. Maybe that’s why the writers phrased it that way… “try”. So you can live the rest of your life and still honor those idealistic words.
What about the oaths you take in the SCA or any other social organization? I’m sure many folks noticed that Arn and I never joined in the mass ‘fealty taking’ while we were Baron and Baroness during the Coronations ceremony. I know I got asked about it every time. And every time, a puzzled look would appear on the face of the querant when we’d explain that we don’t swear blind oaths. Because we DO believe that our words are our bond. Even in a recreational setting. And when I make a promise, it is one that I will keep until released from it. So I think long and hard about what I say and who I am saying it to - and what conditions are in it.
So how do you view those types of oaths? In your world, are they ‘stage show’ words to create a mood? Something that you mean but with the unspoken reserve ‘unless real time interferes or I quit the ____”?
Does it diminish you, even if no one else knows, to break your word?
How do you deal with yourself when circumstances seem to force you to do so?
