I have an 85-year-old neighbor who is a sweet friend and caring person. My issue is that she is very religious and I’m not at all. She prays for me and says it in person, texts and emails for even the most minor of situations. I’ve told her my view of religion and that she doesn’t need to pray for me. She said she has to, otherwise she’s not following the Bible. I’m trying to ignore this but it’s really bothering me that she can’t respect my wishes. — Name Withheld
From the Ethicist:
I’m glad that you’ve been honest with each other about your very different views concerning prayer. But the stakes for each of you don’t seem comparable. If you don’t think these prayers will do you any good, you presumably also don’t think they’ll do you any harm. By contrast, she thinks that you’ll be worse off without them, and that praying for you is her duty.
The only reason you give for objecting to her prayers is that she has failed to comply with your wishes. Yet I don’t find that she has thereby treated you with disrespect, because I don’t see that you have the right to have those wishes complied with. You seem to be asking her not to do something she thinks there are compelling reasons to do. I’d have thought that this was disrespectful.
So you’re not entitled to insist that she stop including you in her prayers. What you can fairly ask is simply that she refrain from informing you about them. Still, instead of requiring that your octogenarian neighbor change her ways, I wonder whether you might change yours — and learn to accept this woman for who she is, hearing her prayers as a sincere expression of her loving feelings toward you.
A Bonus Question
Is it wrong to hope that a very bad person passes away? Some factors to consider: He is already old and in ill health; the world would be better off without him; I am not doing anything to hasten his demise, nor do I wish any pain and suffering for him.
Ideally this person would just disappear or cease to exist, but unfortunately those things are impossible. I am having a hard time reconciling this feeling with my general sense of being a good person. Please help. — Name Withheld
From the Ethicist:
It can be reasonable to think that someone’s death would make the world a better place. After all, this must sometimes be true, albeit in ways that will not always accord with our sense of righteousness. The martyrdom of a civil rights leader could serve to amplify a valuable message, while the elimination of a bad person could clear the way for someone worse. (Ken Grimwood’s novel ‘‘Replay’’ — think ‘‘Groundhog Day,’’ but with long stretches of a life — explores scenarios of this kind.)
At the same time, the death of a person, even a rotten person, is a bad thing in itself, whatever positive consequences it may have. I’m not saying it’s always wrong to hope for someone’s death, even putting aside the great monsters of history. It may be that the cessation of life is, all things considered, the best option for a person who is dying, if it will relieve the person of suffering. In such cases, the consequences outweigh the badness of dying, but they don’t erase the badness of dying, which is borne not just by the individual but by those who care about the individual, though obviously in different ways.
Finally, even if someone has done terrible things, and ill will toward him is morally permissible, there is something unattractive about living a life consumed with malevolence. These feelings don’t undo the wrongs the person has done, or help prevent future ones. Indeed, because the feelings are corrosive, they only add to the bad results of his actions. Evildoers make victims of other human beings; I hope you don’t become one of them.
Readers Respond
The previous question was from a reader whose past was weighing heavily on her. She wrote: “Years ago, when I was struggling with addiction, I would occasionally (once a month or less) engage in sex work to help make ends meet. This was voluntary — no one made me do anything I didn’t want to do — but it’s still uncomfortable for me to think about sometimes. I always used protection during these encounters and continue to get screened for S.T.D.s regularly. … I’m in a new relationship that’s starting to get serious. He knows about my past issues with addiction. Do I have to disclose the fact that I used to be a sex worker? He’s been very accepting about everything up to this point, but as a woman I’m aware that there’s so much social stigma around sex work that I think there’s a chance he might end the relationship if he knew about this. Even if he didn’t end the relationship immediately, I imagine it would make him incredibly uncomfortable. I really don’t want to ruin a good relationship over something that ended five or six years before we met. But I feel as if I’m keeping something important from him.”
In his response, the Ethicist noted: “Women’s sexuality has traditionally been far more strictly regulated than men’s. That’s why there’s no male equivalent of the ‘fallen woman,’ and nobody talks about ‘easy men.’ … Social stigmas are readily internalized, so you’ll want to come to grips with your own discomfort. I hope it comes from your having put yourself in the situation where you did something you feel you can’t freely talk about — and not because you see yourself as a sexual sinner … Although I don’t think you have a duty to reveal this part of your past, I still hope you resist being silenced by stigma, and for a few reasons. First, this was part of the story of your struggle with addiction, which you’ve otherwise been upfront about; concealing it could compromise your own sense of authenticity. Second, if he’s not willing to accept this unedited version of you — if he were to react with harsh judgment — you can wonder whether he’s the right person to share your life with. Third, the disclosure would also be an act of respect. Suppose he found out the truth one day and felt betrayed because of your failure to trust him. A leap of faith might be what your relationship needs to find solid footing.” (Reread the full question and answer here.)
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As a therapist who does a lot of work with couples and families and has been in the field for over 35 years, I can say that I can’t imagine a better response to the letter writer. Contextual, nuanced, compassionate, clear-eyed comments are better than judgment, or self-judgment, any day. — Joan-Marie
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I had a similar problem with addiction and had to support myself through sex work. A decade later, I met a man, whom I married. He knew about my addiction, but I knew not to tell him about my past as an escort. Can I tell you it was the wisest move on my part? We are going through a divorce now. I learned the ex is a malignant narcissist. There is so much stigma in sex work, and most men are judgmental — my ex would have told everyone and used this information against me. I’m not ashamed of my past like I used to be, but still I’m thankful that only my closest friends know about the escort work. I’m authentic to myself. I think that the letter writer should go with her gut and remember everyone has secrets and it’s OK. The secrets don’t change who we are. — Sarah
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I think it would be helpful for the Ethicist to read about the considerable influence of evolutionary psychology in men’s versus women’s behavior. Yes, a woman’s sexual history matters to a man. It may not seem fair or fit into tidy notions of morality, but biology, that is to say our genes, doesn’t care about that. Start with reading Robert Wright’s “The Moral Animal.” — Robert
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Unfortunately, the letter writer’s concern is real, and I’d advise her to keep this info to herself forever, or at least wait it out a little (or a lot) longer. First of all, a lot of sex is transactional, even if money never exchanges hands, so her experiences are simply points on a continuum. Second, both she and the Ethicist are right: There’s so much stigma aimed at women sex workers that isn’t directed toward men who do the same work. Gigolos are sexy swashbucklers, and call girls are lowlifes — just one more of the many unfair double standards. The letter writer kept herself safe and has protected her boyfriend’s health. That’s more than most people can say, whether they were paid for sex or not. — Johanna
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The Ethicist makes a good list of reasons to tell the new partner about her past sex work. I would add a fourth, which is the letter writer’s own nagging doubts. My wife was a sex worker at one part in her life when she struggled with addiction, and she found it hard to believe I genuinely loved her, telling herself, “If he only knew about (fill in the blank), he wouldn’t love me.” My fear is that if the letter writer does not disclose it, she will face these same doubts, and it will be a partial obstacle to the connection they should allow themselves to enjoy. To the letter writer I say, show yourself that this partner is one who loves you fully, bumpy past and all. — Drew
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I’m not in sync with the Ethicist’s response. In 12-Step recovery programs, addicts are encouraged to reveal their darkest selves to a trusted sponsor, clergy or therapist. It is believed that by sharing painful behavior in confidence, healing begins. But it’s not clear to me that the letter writer has forgiven herself, so confessing her past to a possible life partner at this stage doesn’t benefit her or anyone. Working with an addiction therapist while continuing her relationship will help to sort out the best path forward. — Barbara
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From a recovery perspective, the truth of your past is yours and belongs to you alone (and maybe also to a “higher power”). It doesn’t need to be shared with everyone or anyone to validate your authenticity or sobriety. — Moriah
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