Miley, the Preacher

I didn’t watch the VMAs this year.

I’ve watched in years past but, honestly, I’ve become one of those people who doesn’t recognize half the acts and is wondering why the unrecognizable half has replaced acts I know and love. I also haven’t finished vomiting since seeing Nicki Minaj’s disgusting perversion of catholic rituals and symbols in her act during the 2012 Grammys, so music shows aren’t high on my “must watch” list.

But, another year, another act. Several have sent me links to Miley Cyrus’s – well, I’d call it an act, but that implies there was some talent shared and I try to avoid overstatement. (See it in The Blaze story HERE – but do not have young eyes or ears in the room.)

While the blatant display of pseudo-sexuality wasn’t new or original, I did find something different about Ms. Cyrus’s performance. Did anyone catch how succinctly she represented the screed of Hollywood?

Doin’ whatever we want, this is our house, this is our room, and we won’t stop.

Can’t you see we own the night?

…Its our party, we can do what we want to

Its our house, we can love who we want to

Its my mouth, I can say what I want to 

This child (did anyone notice that she was using TEDDY BEARS as fellow dancers?) displayed complete adherence to the “principles” with which she is surrounded each day. Whatever I want, I get. Whatever I think, I do. I, I, I. Me, me, me. I decide. I rule. You don’t matter. It’s all about me.

And, physically, she demonstrated exactly where she has been taught her worth is based: her physicality (I would say “sexuality” but what she displayed had as much to do with a true representation of sex as smashing an apple against a wall shares the fruit’s exquisite taste).

Why scream at Ms. Cyrus? Why expect her to act any differently than the religion of the industry that raised her up? What if we took the road less traveled here? Rather than heap coals on the individual, what if we speak with respect for her underlying identity as a human? Rather than shun or gossip about the teen girls who come to church dressed in short skirts and too much makeup, what if we went out of our way to be kind? Maybe in being kind, we can befriend, and in befriending, we can exchange care for each other – a care that, eventually, transmits the Truths of value, beauty, respect, decency.

If we do that, then might we eliminate the need to explain that fondling another woman’s husband, baring your body, and simulating fake sex are inappropriate and debasing to everyone, everywhere? (Including actual talented artists and writers who help us understand aspects of sexuality with forethought, consideration, and care. Read Havah: The Story of Eve by Tosca Lee for an example or Thin Places: A Memoir by Mary DeMuth.)

Rail against the industry, sure. Require it to adhere to standards of basic decency in distribution. To take its privilege to communicate on a mass level seriously and with maturity. Absolutely.

But, when it comes to naming specific individuals – especially young ones like Ms. Cyrus – befriending the person seems to me much more in line with efficacy and love.