The cultural dimensions of religion often get a bad rap. I’ve often heard the phrase “just cultural” used to dismiss the importance of a particular practice or tradition. For example, in Christian circles, to say that a practice is “just cultural,” is to imply that because it is particular to a certain group of Christians, and not binding to all, that the practice is not really all that important. Somehow the universal automatically trumps the particular.
Worst of all, I’ve found my self saying that something is “cultural” when what I really mean is that I think the tradition is backward and outdated. Thus, the the word “cultural” becomes an insult of sorts.
I wish I could take back my hoity-toity proclamations, but alas I cannot. So my self-assigned penance is to cultivate a healthy empathy for those who cling to the cultural embodiments and expressions of religious belief. Some of the practices that we dismiss as “just cultural” may last defense we have against the steamroller of modernity. To that end, I’ll review films and novels as they come my way. The first is an extraordinary film about arranged marriages. More on that next time ...
