(no subject)
There is only one way I cannot rage at Tertullian, and that is by picturing him as a basement-dweller.
Tertullian: "The sentence of God on this sex life of yours in this age: the guilt must of necessity live too. You are the Devil's gateway. You are the un-sealer of the forbidden tree. You are the first deserter of the divine Law. You are she who persuaded him, whom the Devil was not valiant enough to attack. You destroyed so easily God's image, man. On account of your desert, that is death, even the Son of God had to die."
Tertullian's Mother: "That's nice, dear. Now come to dinner."
This man needs to read him some Song of Solomon.
Tertullian: "The sentence of God on this sex life of yours in this age: the guilt must of necessity live too. You are the Devil's gateway. You are the un-sealer of the forbidden tree. You are the first deserter of the divine Law. You are she who persuaded him, whom the Devil was not valiant enough to attack. You destroyed so easily God's image, man. On account of your desert, that is death, even the Son of God had to die."
Tertullian's Mother: "That's nice, dear. Now come to dinner."
This man needs to read him some Song of Solomon.