But the journey is theirs. Not mine. My own long and painful journeys keep me plenty busy, thank you very much.

See, John didn’t make any marital promises to me. Nor did he make or imply any promises to me by way of having sex with me outside of his marriage. (Reasonably certain I would remember, and that I would have said “no thank you.”)

“But he LIED, Steven. John Edwards looked the media and the nation right square in the eye and lied!”

But of course. And Elizabeth was part of that lie. She joined in it, and in that sense, told the same lie. Her exact words: “This was our private matter, and I frankly wanted it to be private because as painful as it was I did not want to have to play it out on a public stage as well.”

At the grave risk of presumption, let me take a shot an interpreting Elizabeth for us, minus the ‘burden’ of her absolute class: “Listen up, you neandrabozos. We had two choices. Either we submit to a public, thermonuclear proctologic exam, or we agree upon a corporate, familial lie as a reasonable and rational self-defense against the current culture of media which daily behaves less and less like journalism and more and more like a gaggle of 7th graders giggling, passing notes, and basking in the spotlight of being the first to know the dirt about other classmates.”

Perhaps you disagree. The National Enquirer certainly does. They tell me, in their advertising by-line, that the above dynamic is not a gaggle of 7th graders, but a most sincere and genuine collection of people with “inquiring minds.” They assure me that I “have a right to know.”

Our need to see your nakedness is most sincere
We’re confident your sinfulness will flee in fear
People will change if they feel shameful enough
So strip ‘em down and make ‘em strut their stuff

The National Enquirer and I disagree about the attributes which constitute an inquiring mind. We disagree about my rights. And, while I’m at it, we disagree about honor, decency, morality, empathy, humility, self-respect, critical thinking, psychological and spiritual maturity, and being truly human. I think the average brothel madam has a more consistent grip on her soul.

Other than that we get on just fine.

The scary part is that the once obvious and clear moral and intellectual distinction between The National Enquirer and mainstream news media is, for me, becoming less obvious and less clear.

“But, Steven, you’re only as sick as your secrets!”

Hogwash. I’d like to smack the man or woman who coined that little piece of pseudo-righteous nonsense. Here’s the truth: Some secrets make us sick. Some. And, if you should happen upon such a sick secret in your own life, it does not at all follow that revealing the secret (getting well) should include taking out a full-page ad in the New York Times, let alone standing naked on your front lawn and calling me so I can come see. In most cases, the healing that comes from revealing a secret depends on your holy and healthy containment of that revelation. In psychology we call it “having good boundaries.” You find one or a small handful of confessors. If appropriate, you turn yourself into the police. Truth to whom the truth is due.

What do you mean you want to keep your dignity
Our holiness requires loud publicity
How dare you speak of privacy, you’re such a tease
Just dangle all your secrets in the morning breeze

But sometimes revealing secrets causes the greater damage. And buying into the shame-based need to compulsively and publicly spew your secrets willy-nilly is itself an indication of sickness.

I say again, hanging out with prostitutes in hotel rooms is not even close to the worst thing I know about Jimmy Swaggart. What made me want to toss my metaphorical moral cookies was his blubbering television confession of it. What I wanted to say to him was something like, “Jimmy, that you’re a card-carrying sinner is no surprise to me. It only surprises you. And the most important thing I can tell you is that neither your virtues nor your sins are extraordinary. You’re not that big a’ deal. Sit down. Shut up. You’re just a man.”

But the greatest and most pervasive sickness of our time is the need to see … the need to know. Everything. About everybody.

How dare Franklin Roosevelt allow himself only to be photographed without his wheelchair in view! How dare John Kennedy withhold from us that he was, by all accounts, a shameless philanderer! And shame on the press for being complicit in such ‘secrets.’

Say it out loud: “I have the inalienable right to know the details of the every sexual sin of every occupant of every public office. Past, present, and future. Candidates have a moral obligation to disclose such things, like they disclose financial and tax records.”

Okay, you’ve said it. Now, do you really believe it? And, if you’re right, are you surprised to hear me say that no psychologically healthy, self-respecting person would knowingly avail themselves to such a process? They would recognize it immediately as pathology, and walk away. Leaving who, then, to run for office? To lead us? Answer: people with really well-groomed and polished personas. People with no real core.

Scared yet?

Ever read the history of Puritans in colonial America? They would bring adulterers before the congregation and force them to disrobe. Stand naked. Put them in the stocks. People would stand and jeer. Throw things. Spit. It’s a tough job, but somebody has to be deeply spiritual enough to make sure that sinners are publicly humiliated. In the name of Jesus. So that we can feel good about ourselves.

Tell me you know I’m being ironic.

We read about corruption in Genesis
Turns out God is our nemesis
Adam and Eve, he clothed their shameful curse
But we had a right to seem them naked first

Here’s my favorite Frederick Nietzsche quote: “Everything holy requires a veil.” But of course. We don’t stare and gawk casually at what is holy, because this kind of casual familiarity changes and injures our relationship to real holiness. Real humanity. The reason Moses averts his eyes before the Burning Bush is, in the end, the same reason we shut and lock the bathroom door when using the toilet. Nothing naughty or wrong going on in there. It’s not a secret. But, to gaze upon it in casual curiosity would risk reducing us to bladder and bowel. We’re more than that. So we veil those behaviors.

Have we forgotten that moral failure is a holy encounter, too? That few things are more vulnerable and naked and painful then the discovery of just how dark and ugly and selfish and shallow we can be? Is it a surprise that normal and healthy and moral people want to shut and lock the bathroom door during these encounters, too? Or that they are willing to lie boldface to the people pounding on the door, insisting on their right to know and see?

If a media news source or a politician ever offers you a benevolent smile, a warm hand on the shoulder, an affirming nod and says, “The best thing you can do right now is tell the truth,” … well, a wise person would run away screaming.

No thing is obscene. Obscene is not a description of a thing, but of us. What’s obscene is our dark and ugly desire to “reach behind the veil.” To drag everything into the light. To convince ourselves that we have a right to know. A right to see. And to feel really good about it.

It is the better part of human decency not to need to see everything naked. And, based upon that definition, human decency in America has gone to hell.

Like John and Yoko standing on an album cover
We want the name and address of your current lover
Our righteousness will grow with every sin you list
We insist that you be exhibitionist

An inquiring mind? Elizabeth Edwards had a different view: “I ask that the public, who expressed concern about the harm John's conduct has done to us, think also about the real harm that the present voyeurism does and give me and my family the privacy we need at this time.”

Translation? “Thanks for all your concern, folks, but cancer and my numnutz husband are the least of my problems. Is your life really diminished by simply leaving us alone?”

Good Reader, if a case can be made that John Edwards has committed a crime, then have at him. Rock and roll. If he’s committed a felony or done evil, call the police. Or I will. But adultery is not a felony. And, while it is many things destructive and inexcusable, it is not evil. Murder is evil. Having sex with children is evil. But, if all I know is all there is to know, it’s not much more interesting to me than if John had decided to commit the sin of gluttony while in public office and gain 300 pounds.

Lust is but one of the seven sins Thomas Aquinas called “deadly.” I dare you to make a case as to why it should be singled out for special political persecution while the other six get a pass. Ever wonder if pride or covetousness or anger has anything to do with the war in Iraq? Arms for Contras behind Congress’ back? But hey, we’re great with that as long as you’re not having sex with someone you’re not married to. It’s not a lie; rather a necessary paternalism.

Just asking.

Elizabeth continues: “Although John believes he should stand alone and take the consequences of his action now, when the door closes behind him, he has his family waiting for him.”

Okay. Elizabeth has decided not to walk, though I would not have blamed her for that. Nor will I blame her for staying. She is there for John. She – the woman whom John betrayed. She has opted for the work of reconciling her marriage. The key words there are “she” and “her.”

So, who the hell would I think I was to imagine I had anything else to contribute to this discussion, let alone any additional claim on its details?

I wish John, and Elizabeth – and the other woman – every peace and healing. None of those broken people need my help feeling bad.

I take it as a point of honor to avert my eyes.

The lyrics scattered throughout this column are from “Strip and Tell,” a song written by Steven Kalas.