“I totally get that and I agree and thank you for saying it for me because that’s what I got out of the story even when I didn’t and don’t now know you at all, and I thought Abraham was RIGHT in choosing that because YES I thought that was what God wanted him to do, to release himself from his own hell.”

MoJo: Um, that?

Chanson: Yeah, I cut out a lot of details in that comment. I wrote this story when Jessie and I were separating with plans to divorce, at a time when I decided I was no longer willing to abstain from homosexual relationships because God said so. We separated for three months, during which time I cut off ties with the LDS church, got a better grip of who I was and what I believed about God and the universe, and then I decided that my desire to be with Jessie outweighed my desire to be with an as-yet-theoretical male partner. I guess I was really into fictional analogies at the time, because what made me realize this was a chapter in a novel I was reading. Jessie, who had never been a fan of the divorce plan in the first place, was willing to give our marriage another go. (I don’t think it can be said enough what an amazing human being she is.) What makes this current situation different for me is that I’m no longer making a sacrifice because God told me to; I’m just giving up one thing I want in favor of something else I want more.

As a side note, Chanson, no it’s not too personal a question, but I will admit that I’m self-conscious in talking about this with you, taking into account, ahem, other blogs in which my marriage has been discussed. :D I worry that in trying to sum up complex situations I will yet again cast Jessie as the object of my whims and desires, but I assure you that every decision we’ve made we’ve made together, taking into account the best interests of both of us as well as our children. If there’s an exception to that, it was the decision to divorce, which like I said was never her idea and that was the thing that bothered me most about it.

…it was also about Abraham standing up for himself and making a decision he could own, and I like to think that really that’s what God wanted of him…

This.

Stunning. Absolutely and utterly.

Sorry for my effusion, I really like a good, poignant analogy.

Thanks for sharing. I think seeing it both ways (and the multitude of facets and meanings and unintentional symbolism that any good story ends up containing) is a great gift.. to be able to live with conflict. And obviously, this is something you’ve had a lot of experience with…

I saw myself as having to make that sacrifice over and over, every day I decided again not to pursue a homosexual relationship. So I wrote a story where Abraham did have to make the sacrifice, and he had to do it over and over, and because I was at a point in my life where I finally had to say, “I will not,” so did Abraham.

I though you were still choosing not to pursue a homosexual relationship, right? If it’s too personal a question (or if you’re not reading this thread anymore) it’s not necessary to respond…

“Great literature” thus may just be stories that have reached a critical mass of readers and thus have enjoyed reinterpretation through so many perspectives that they become more than merely one person’s story, but timeless things that grow and change and deepen, seemingly on their own.

That’s an excellent insight. One of my biggest frustrations with The Old Testament is that this particular set of texts — at face value alone — don’t merit the amount of attention and analysis they’ve received over the years. Yet The Bible is more than the face value of the text: it’s the text plus two thousand years’ worth of layers of human interpretation. That point is at the center of my new review of The FOB Bible: A Great Riff on “The Good (??!) Book”.

Long, complicated story as short as possible: I’m gay. I grew up Mormon. Like many people who like to think of themselves as making some noble sacrifice for God, I tended to see Abraham as my patron saint. Just as he was asked to sacrifice his son, I was asked to sacrifice my desire to be with another man. Except, I realized, for two crucial differences: (1) in the end, Abraham did not actually have to make that sacrifice; and (2) while Abraham had to (or didn’t have to) make a single, one-time sacrifice, I saw myself as having to make that sacrifice over and over, every day I decided again not to pursue a homosexual relationship. So I wrote a story where Abraham did have to make the sacrifice, and he had to do it over and over, and because I was at a point in my life where I finally had to say, “I will not,” so did Abraham. If my Abraham comes across kind of self-righteous, bitter, and immersed in an unhealthy persecution complex, it’s because at the time I was all of those things. If he doesn’t come across that way, well, that’s probably for the good of the story. Apart from the bitterness, though, it was also about Abraham standing up for himself and making a decision he could own, and I like to think that really that’s what God wanted of him–why else would God wait until Abraham says no to end the Groundhog Day cycle?

A longer version of that background story can be found, in reverse-order bits and pieces, here.