Dear Belinda:

I am very troubled by the fact that I have discovered that, despite being raised a good Christian, my son has told me he has decided to embrace an ungodly lifestyle and taken up the hobby of being gay. After much hollering, my husband and I determined that we simply had to treat him in a Christian manner, so we threw him out of the house and had our phone changed to an unlisted number. Now, my son is telling me in scented notes placed under the windshield wipers of my Tempo that it is not a "choice." What am I to do? I love him, but I've already turned his bedroom into a lovely sewing room that I am very much enjoying and reluctant to give up.

Skeptical in South Carolina

Dear Foolish Reader:

As my co-worker, Mrs. Nancy Bowers, is more versed in the use of the Bible to ostracize and stone, I delicately asked her for an opinion on this whole "choosing to be gay" thing. I pointed out, ever so gently, what I regard as an inconsistency to her whole approach to this gay rights business. I said, "Nancy, when it comes to abortion, we say the pro-life people are dishonest by framing the issue as a matter of choice, rather than the life involved. But when it comes to gay rights, it's we who are dehumanizing the issue by talking about the choice to be gay." (When talking with her I've found it best to lead her to the misapprehension that I am actually looking for a way to defend her strange notions.) Nancy, as she is want to do when the conversation veers too far afield from what she's memorized in a set of pamphlets she is seldom without, simply ignored me. But I asked her, somewhat more loudly this time: "Nancy, how can we cling to saying they choose to be gay, when we are constantly bombarded with scientific evidence that says otherwise?" This time, Nancy looked up from her Nutra-Sweet Evening in Islamabad International instant coffee. I think that her advice was rather cogently stated, and I pass it on to you in case you are ever pestered by a soul as inquisitive as I am from time to time. Nancy said, "Belinda, dear, I regard science the same way I regard hairstyles that have come into being since President Kennedy was shot - just too radical for serious contemplation."

You asked for it,

Belinda

Dear Belinda:

I am about to get married. As a Christian, I have, of course, saved most of myself for marriage. Now that the "Big Night" is coming up, I need to know what kinds of sex things the Lord will allow me to do. My fiancée made an alphabetized list of what he wants done, but I haven't even gotten past the Bs without Bible problems. For example, the only things they blow in the Old Testament are trumpets and the only "Job" I found was some poor guy who went through some serious drama just to settle some machismo bet between God and Satan. Now, I'm more confused than ever. Help!

Confused is Connecticut

Dear Foolish Reader:

Personally, when it comes to getting ideas about what to do in one's bedroom, I have always found the Old Testament to be a little too ribald for even my open-mindedly adventurous use. For example, the tale of those saucy little Lot girls plying their father with liquor so that they might seduce him (Genesis 19:32) should come with the disclaimer "Do Not Try This At Home." Actually, the most noteworthy thing about this passage to me is that these mischievous little tarts were actually on speaking, much less screwing, terms with their dear ole Dad. As you may recall, he had only just a page earlier embraced his duties as host with a fervor that some might find almost alarming. When annoying strangers were banging on his door, disturbing his haughty houseguests' quiet game of cards, what did Lot do? He made the oddly resourceful decision to offer his nubile daughters as sexual door prizes to the uninvited, simply to buy his houseguests a moment of peace, allowing them to enjoy a lovely evening without the inconvenience of being sodomized by people they didn't even know. (Genesis 19:8). Thank goodness the precepts of hospitality became somewhat more relaxed Anno Domini.

In any event, if one were to emulate the sexual shenanigans of the Old Testament, one would risk, if not actual criminal prosecution, certain excommunication from any reputable garden club. Regrettably, looking to the New Testament, one would hardly fair any better. As is so often the case with rushed sequels, the New Testament lacks the quirky sense of high-drama of the original. It also fails to provide a helpful example on how to burnish one's good name and avoid raising a few heavily-penciled eyebrows in an observant community. For example, I do not recommend the habit of conspicuously fraternizing with flashy prostitutes sporting cheaply fragranced body-oils if you ever wish to be accepted by the admissions board of one of Manhattan's more exclusive co-ops. Further, the useful skill of constantly turning every bottle of Evian you encounter into Château LaFite Rothchild might land you on the invitation list of many a frugal Bride's mother. It will, however, also likely lead to a pesky intervention by well meaning friends, followed by an annoyingly puritanical respite in Rancho Mirage. (While at Betty Ford, you will no doubt be subjected to the numbing company of a bevy of self-absorbed sitcom stars battling an addiction for "prescription pain killers" -- known outside of Hollywood press releases more simply as "heroin.")

Furthermore, any man who makes a habit of dining in public restaurants with twelve other men who all have an uncanny knack for pulling off outfits with miles of draped billowing fabric, make a big to-do about kissing each other (Mark 14:44) or frolic with naked boys draped in coy little peek-a-boo linen numbers (Mark 14:51: "And there followed him a certain young man, having a linen cloth cast about his naked body; and the young men laid hold on him" -- Indeed!), should not be surprised if his phone number is not the first one that comes to the mind of the opposite sex when she is looking for a romantic evening. Indeed, if you observe any of these proclivities in your fiancé, may I suggest that you take your Bible with you on your honeymoon, as you will probably have plenty of time to read it.

In short, I would steer clear of the Bible when looking for guidance in how to conduct oneself in the bedroom or otherwise. If you seek risqué examples of how to draw attention to yourself, stick to Jackie Collins or Jacqueline Susann. Their heroines wear much nicer shoes and are less likely to be killed by hurled objects or turned into condiments, such as pillars of presumably Kosher salt (Genesis 19:26). And speaking of Lot's wife, knowing what we do about her wretched husband and insouciant daughters, I can't help but think it must have been quite a relief to the woman when God gave her the opportunity to investigate the less morally ambiguous life enjoyed by most salts. And while her doctor, no doubt, must have been alarmed by such high levels of sodium, salt's well known inability to effectively communicate at least provided the poor woman a perfect excuse for avoiding the unpleasantness of having to explain to strangers that her step-children were also her grandchildren, which is probably never an easy concept to broach.

You asked for it,

Belinda

Dear Belinda:

For many years I have read tarot cards. To be honest, I have helped more people through the tarot deck and have found more solace in my so called sinful religion than I have in being a Christian. Do you think my reading Tarot is inconsistent with my Christian faith?

Uncertain in Utica

Dear Foolish Reader:

I have to confess, I find someone quietly flipping though a deck of cards far less intrusive than some other outward signs of spiritual endeavor, such as speaking in tongues (which I will only believe when some Hillbilly breaks into French perfect enough in intonation to secure a favored table at a two-star restaurant in Paris). For example, I find it rather difficult to enjoy a lovely meal if the woman at the next table to me is convulsing with peals of Holy Laughter. As long as you don't wear one of those ridiculous faux-Gypsy outfits, replete with inexpensive, loud jewelry sporting stones of questionable origin, I find nothing wrong with your penchant for giving strangers the impression you know more about them than they do themselves, for that is precisely my goal at every cocktail party I ever attend.

You asked for it,

Belinda

P.S. I spoke with my colleague, Mrs. Bowers, and she told me, without pause or qualification, that you are going straight to Hell.

Dear Belinda:

I am a Christian woman, but have become troubled when I read parts of the New Testament. It almost seems like Jesus has something against us rich people. For example, the bit about it being harder for a rich man to gain entry into heaven than for a camel to pass through the eye of a needle is really annoying. But I have, so far, been unable to come up with an explanation that allows me to completely ignore that passage, other than dismissing it as a being a lapse of disagreeable class envy that would have been overcome had Jesus lived long enough to encounter and process such jealousies or simply fallen in with a better crowd. After all, it's not my fault he was just a carpenter born in a smelly stable! I am very much a woman "of this world" but I regard my Christian faith as the most important thing in my entire life. I just don't want to let it interfere with my ability to wear couture by designers like Armani and Versace. I have a call into my lawyer; is there a loophole you are aware of?

Unnerved on the Upper East Side

Dear Foolish Reader:

First things first. In using a careless phrase such as "designers like Armani and Versace" you have traipsed into the world of blasphemy. Before you inattentively lump those two Houses together in the same sentence, remember Miss Belinda's mantra:

Versace is to Armani what Suzanne Somers is to Meryl Streep.

With regard to your nettlesome question, I too found the bit about it being harder for a rich man to get into heaven than for a camel to pass through the eye of a needle appallingly exclusionary -- and downright gross when you really think about it. I mean, just trying to do something like that would have a battalion of animal activists all over you! Fortunately for both of us, I prefer to think of the Bible as a "living" document, capable of nimbly adapting to the perplexities of our post-modern world, and thereby allowing us to indulge in any exigent cravings that may present themselves. Taking a tip from the fundamentalists, and interpreting the passage literally and without regard to logic, I now interpret the "Camel to pass through the eye of a needle" remark to speak to the perils of smoking unfiltered cigarettes whilst sewing. Don't do it.

I feel quite comfortable with this interpretation, as the accumulation of vast amounts of money and lovely Louis Seize commodes appears to be, not merely an incidental benefit, but the very goal of most major Christian organizations. Indeed, blind and adulatory faith in the lovely things that legal tender can purchase appears to be the only theological precept upon which Pat Robertson, Jerry Falwell, the Pope and I all unflinchingly agree. (But render onto Caesar only what your tax lawyer says you can get away with, dear.)

You asked for it,

Belinda