This raises another related issue of concern to many Christians when encountering literature, especially that of the twentieth century: how to respond to the presence of profanity, as well as the details of violence or sexual activity. Honestly, I don’t have any easy answer on this. How much explicit detail should a portrayal of sin offer to be fictionally effective or avoid to save being destructive to readers? I may seem too simple to say that this differs per reader, but at the college level where readers can be expected to have a certain degree of ethical responsibility, I think it best to risk trusting my students.

Gene Veith points out that we should be careful to distinguish four words: obscenity, pornography, vulgarity, and profanity (35-39). Obscenity involves that which is "out of scene" or "offstage." The obscene thing is something that crosses the boundaries of decorum and, by doing so, destroys the effectiveness of a drama. (This charge is often made of modern "slasher" horror movies—the fear factor is destroyed by the gore.) Pornography is graphic sexual description designed to arouse its reader. Thus, we should keep in mind that while pornography is always obscene, not every obscene act is automatically porn. The distinction between obscenity and pornography suggests that we should ask two questions about the depiction of violence and sex in literature. One, is this depiction intended to corrupt me sexually? Two, what is the effect of this description upon the dramatic whole? Notice, for example, the use of sexual imagery in the following three biblical passages:

In each of three biblical passages above, sexual detail is important to the message of the passage. The first, historical in nature, shows us the degradation to which the tribes of Israel had fallen in the time of the Judges. The second passage is a beautiful meditation of a man pondering his wife’s bodily beauty, and the third is a prophetic parable showing the grotesque extremes to which the nation is willing to prostitute herself culturally and religiously. Each of these passages in its own way is frank and certainly detailed, but none is pornographic. The same kind of phenomenon is present in a poem like Peacock’s "Couple Sharing a Peach":

It’s not the first time
we’ve bitten into a peach.
But now at the same time
it splits—half for each.
[. . . .]
Two happinesses unfold
from one joy, folioed.
In a hotel room
our moment lies
with its ode inside,
a red tinge,
with a hinge. (1-4, 8-14)

She writes in praise of conjugal love by using the image of the peach joined red "with a hinge." It is a frank and sensuous image, but not intended to corrupt. Rather, it affirms God’s blessing on the act of consummation within marriage.

Vulgarity is a lesser form of obscenity, involving what is considered common or base by another class, while profanity is that which "trivializes" the sacred. Something that is considered in bad taste by one group may nonetheless contribute to realist fiction. It may be vulgar in my house to pick up your plate and lick it clean, but it isn’t everywhere. The same is true of profanity. It is too simple to make a list of unacceptable words without understanding why they’re being used. As Veith points out, we tend to associate profanity with words involving sexual organs or bodily excretions. These may be far less of importance to God than the way people use language to debase what is God’s (39). Permit me to quote a poem that has some profanity/vulgarity in it. "Psalm Against Psalms," by Andrew Hudgins, a professed follower of Christ, focuses on the struggle to believe amidst the world’s costly pain:

Isaiah ate the blood-red ember.
Ezekiel ate the dung. It went in fire
and came out praise. It went in shit
and came praise from his mouth. And this
is where I stick. I pray: thank, ask,
confess. But praise—dear God!—it clings
like something dirty on my tongue,
[. . . .]
But if grace tore through me and spoke,
as God in his strange redundant way
put on my tongue to praise himself,
I’d hear the words I said and learn (44-50, 63-66)

Gregory Wolfe says of this poem that it exemplifies perfectly what we all struggle with—the sacrifice of praise: "When it comes to sacrificing ourselves, we’re all unwilling victims" (3). Certainly, Hudgins’ use of the word "shit" is vulgar. It is a common word, offensive in many circles. But it is also earthy and its repugnant sound expresses more clearly the cost of learning to praise in this world than a more timid word like "filth." So by Veith’s definitions, Hudgins is not using a word profanely. Admittedly, for some, this word still functions obscenely in that it breaks up the drama of the poem; however, we should at least be aware that Hudgins’ intentions are some more than mere offensiveness. We might consider, for instance, the question as to whether the poem in question turns inward to itself or outward. Does it point to its own resources or to something higher, e.g. God? (Brown 110-11). In Hudgins’ case, the speaker of the poem, despite his vulgar word, is looking towards God. At the very least his use of such a word shouldn’t rob us of the truth he has to offer.