Pygmalion, Porn, and Desire: A Christian Response

Framing a Song

         What if Venus never comes? That ought to be an odd question. Venus was, after all, the Roman goddess of sex and love – the Roman name for the Greek Aphrodite. She was the challenged mother of Aeneas, mythical hero of Rome, the lover desired by all of the gods. She represented all the charms which the Greeks and Romans associated with women – she was a powerful sexual force, constantly considered among the most powerful of the gods. She had the power, with the help of her son Cupid (known to the Greeks as Eros) to force anyone to fall in love; she inspired a lustful zeal in all of her worshippers. 

In one evocative story, a worshiper of Venus named Pygmalion, is so disgruntled by what he sees in the women of his country that he decides to build his own. A master sculptor, he carves a woman from ivory and prays to the goddess that she might become real. Obsessed by his fantasies, he inverts one common pattern in human sexual behavior for another. Instead of pursuing a confidante, he opts to fantasize and make his own. Instead of objectifying a person, he personifies an object. 

Why do we make other people into objects of our own appetites – a thing to be gotten – ignoring the consequences of our own behavior beyond our own immediate pleasure? Why do we make things ultimate – treating them as if they were people? There are various ways of considering these questions – theologians, philosophers, psychologists, neurologists, sociologists, and even poets have all spent countless pages expressing their own musings. While I do not possess the time or the space necessary to offer an exhaustive answer, I intend to present a few considerations about the motivations behind objectification by reconsidering the story of Pygmalion as told in Ovid’s Metamorphosis. Ovid, consciously or not, frames this story in such a way that it is an incisive portrait of human desire at its extremes. Building on this foundation, I will discuss the implications of this understanding of sexual desire and several of its fruits – objectification and pornography included – from the perspective of the Christian moral tradition. Ovid may not have been a Christian, but as will be shown, this particular work actually displays deep undertones which insightfully blend with a Christian perspective.

Pygmalion: An Introduction

The Roman poet Ovid was well known for his provocative ruminations on sex and lust. Mysteriously exiled from first century Rome by Caesar Augustus for “a song and a mistake” he bent genres to his will, reshaping the traditional structure of the epic poem – typically about larger-than-life heroes and their exploits – around his own idiosyncratic retellings of Greek and Roman myths and folktales in his Metamorphosis [1]. Each story documents a transformation – often bizarre and miraculous, and just as frequently a blessing as a curse.

As one of these reimagined tales, the story of Pygmalion takes place as a sort of poem within a poem – in the broader literary framework of the Metamorphosis, another Greek hero, Orpheus, sings the story [2]. Familiar as the tale may be to some readers, Orpheus introduces it with a less often recalled story centered on the island of Cyprus. Here, the reader is taken in by the horrifying account of two groups, the female Propoetides and the male Cerastae. ‘If you asked’ the islanders if they were proud of these two, “No! They would answer” [3]. And why? They hated these groups because they were hostile to foreigners and hateful to Venus – as the speaker puts it, singling out the women, saying ““[T]he lewd Propoetides went as far as asserting that Venus / wasn’t a goddess at all”[4]. They rebelled against her wishes – that they would live normal lives and within the sexual confines of Greek marriages – not only offering humans in sacrifice, but offering themselves up as the first prostitutes [5]. Both were affronts to the goddess, who turned them to stone and made the Cerastae into bulls [6].

Pygmalion: An Interpretation

Only after setting this context does the speaker narrow his focus to a sculptor on the same island who is embarrassed at the whole scandal. Pygmalion, is “sick of the vices with which the female sex / had been so richly endowed,” after discerning what the Propoetides did [7]. He judges all the women on Cyprus because of a few irreverent prostitutes. As a result, “he chose for a number of years / to remain unmarried, without a partner to share his bed” [8]. While it may seem the glib start to a fairy tale, or even worse, the sexist ruminations of a sexless pig, there are a few matters here which are relevant to our broader consideration of objectification and desire. Pygmalion is disillusioned: the actions of a few women have led him to think that all the other women of Cyprus are the same. One bad experience leads him to eschew any experience. Instead of seeking genuine love, he seeks comfort in his own isolation. He has not thought of these women as agents – acting wrongly out of their own volition – but as objects – representing the flaws of all their kind. In a refrain common to Greek and Roman myth, he is sick of the gifts of women [9].

The Cypriot sculptor’s objective vision of the feminine quickly takes on a new shape from ivory. “The heavenly woman appeared to be real… art was concealed by art to a rare degree” [10]. In a strange way, disconcerting and awesome, Pygmalion realizes the beauty of his own creation. After assuming all women to be objectively represented by the Propoetides, he creates his own, and becomes “enflamed with desire,” kissing it and talking to it and dressing and undressing it [11]. He even lays the statue on a couch at one point – all in pursuit of his imagined love [12]. To the sculptor, women and ivory are interchangeable.

Pygmalion’s handiwork may have been amazing, yet if nothing else, his obvious sickness is less than laudable. He is emblematic of a frequent cycle, particularly noticeable now in the widespread use of pornography. As a result of repeated stimuli, the human brain is desensitized and the sense of pleasure is made dull. Novelty revives the sense of pleasure. This is particularly true in sexual matters, where novelty is perhaps most alluring [13]. Pygmalion is astonished at the newness of his creation, and like anyone who has ever used pornography, he does not care that it is entirely unreal. His artistic merit may be inspiring, but his undying devotion to his creation is almost laughable.

Over time the bleakness of the situation sinks in on Pygmalion. As a result, he attends the island’s most famous feast, the feast to the goddess of love and sex, Venus. Here, he offers a sacrifice and asks a favor. “‘Grant me to wed…’ – not daring to say ‘my ivory maiden,’ / he used the words ‘a woman resembling my ivory maiden’” [14]. As he arrives home, he discovers that his statue was indeed a real woman – alive, breathing, and just as beautiful as he had imagined her [15]. The poem leaves her unnamed, a signal to the fact that in Roman times, even if a woman was a gift from the gods, they were typically thought to be more terrible than good [16]. Still, this suggests another underlying motive clearly present in Pygmalion’s case: a form of unmerited, arrogant desire.

Desire in itself is far from a bad thing. But a desire which is not limited by other factors can be. Augustine of Hippo, one of the most important theologians of the Christian tradition, makes this point clear in his On the Free Choice of the Will. Alluding to the Latin translation of the New Testament, he writes “Be careful that you not think anything more true than the dictum that the root of all evils is greed [1 Tim. 6:10], that is, to will to have more than is enough” [17]. His encouragement follows from a more negative principle: that it is wrong to desire beyond or outside of what is naturally good. In this case, the dissatisfaction of Pygmalion is emblematic of just such a desire. He is disdainful of the women of his own homeland. He wants sexual fulfillment beyond what is achievable on his island, and so he sheepishly begs for a statue to become human – he wants an impossible good because he is discontent with the normal goods which could be around him. In this profligate moment, he opts not to envy another man’s wife – he instead wants the creative power of the gods for himself. The gods of the story may well recognize this, and yet also realize that he does so in a manner which fulfills their own desires; as a result, Venus grants his wish, and he has his wife and his sex. The goddess gets her sacrifices [18]. All seems well.

Pygmalion’s story is told with a positive spin. Although even to a Roman audience there would likely have been some layer of concern on first listening, it would have likely seemed to be nothing more than a fairy tale. In reality, it is a probing analysis of the human mind and its interaction with desire. It presents a few important considerations for modern readers, particularly when read in light of the Christian tradition.

Christianity, Porn, and Pygmalion

First, the story reveals the power of social disillusionment. Distrust in others and isolation are a dangerous mixture. Proverbs 18:1 states it fairly simply: “Whoever isolates himself seeks his own desire; he breaks out against all sound judgment” [19]. Pygmalion is an admirable sculptor, but his lack of concern for his fellow citizens and inability to even consider the eligibility of another Cypriot woman is not. After all, he is presented as judging all women anecdotally. This is not uncommon, as any quick perusal of the internet reveals. Many online hustlers sell a not too dissimilar brand of disillusionment, filled with a lurid and bold sort of misogyny [20]. This behavior is properly antisocial – and yet it is also alluring to people down on their luck. It is easy to pass blame for personal or societal ills off to the unknown; personal responsibility is the hard part.

Second, the story reveals the potential for desire – in this case, sexual desire – to be blinding, to obscure reality. Pygmalion may be a marvelous sculptor – yet even he does not create life, but an ivory simulacrum of it, an image incapable of actually breathing no matter how much it appears to do so. But, much like pornography, this is a matter of personal pleasure, and so whether the statue is a person or not is no matter to him at first. Historian and social critic Carl Trueman considers this disconnect between the personal satisfaction promised in pornography and the temporality of sex:

 “[P]ornography, with its message that sex is about personal satisfaction, focuses on the pleasure of the present moment, without reference to past or future. It promotes a view of sex as being the activity of the sempiternal orgiast, the one who lives for sexual pleasure in the here and now with no thought about the future.” [21]

In this context, sex is severed from its past and present context and its future consequences. No longer is it shared in a relationship, no longer will it have future ramifications beyond momentary interaction with an image, whether statuary or static. Instead, it is ironically neutered of all efficacy. Even the narrative that is promoted surrounding the act is fiction – and the human mind does not particularly care, at least, not in the moment.

         The Christian claim is that we should care. After all, we are creatures made in God’s image, with more than a shred of dignity—all of us [22]. This ultimately poses the biggest problem with our sexual objectification of others and with feeble expressions of our own physical desires. To deny someone’s worth by treating them as an object, whether that is in person or online, is to misunderstand ourselves as much as it is to misunderstand them. To treat an image or a statue as a person worthy of our passions is insulting and demonstrates a degraded and sad understanding of our human dignity. Our humanity means we are worth more than that. By embracing a right view of ourselves, we can be freed from the danger of self degradation in the name of desire. Understanding this is not a call to pride. It is a call to radical humility, which embraces the truth entirely. Theologian Gavin Ortlund calls humility the “death of the narrow, suffocating filter of self-referentiality” [23]. By understanding our own human dignity, we are able to move on from it. This happens because we can be comfortable knowing who and what we are and what we are and are not intended to be. We can think of others rightly because we understand ourselves. We are freed from thinking only of ourselves by knowing what we are – a liberty Pygmalion never achieves.

         Pygmalion’s display of unmitigated, narcissistic desire underscores his inability to truly comprehend his humanity. He adores what he cannot have – or at least, barring the miraculous, should not be able to have. His vision is aesthetic and self-centered. As one literary scholar puts it, the artist “seek[s a] flawless, both erotic and aesthetic [object] cleansed of common human vulgarity, worthy of [his] refined artistic tastes and capable of satisfying and stimulating [his] need for beauty” [24]. While the artist may need beauty, and crave sexual fulfillment, here his longing is in excess and results in the literal creation of the object of desire – the woman of his dreams, but as an ivory statue. Pygmalion possesses natural desires but is so consumed by them that he turns to the artificial. This is not the picture of health. If he would realize the true nature of his need – the need for companionship, love, and even sexual fulfillment – he may well realize that he did not need to craft a wife from ivory. Surely, there are worthy women on Cyprus. Instead, he is trapped in a self-referential cycle, thinking only of his needs, his desires, and their fulfillment.

A Poet’s Accidental Warnings

            Pygmalion’s story is an intense depiction of the too-human struggle against disillusionment, the objectification of others, and the personification of the material. The titular sculptor’s foibles allow the reader to understand his or her own pitiful inordinate desire, particularly when it results in a refusal to acknowledge reality and a harmful treatment of others. The myth of Pygmalion may not have been written by a moralist, but it remains deeply resonant ethically, with helpful observations and warnings. Disillusionment may often be understandable – but it is far from good. Desire is at heart a good thing – but only in moderation, and only for certain things. Human beings are persons, not objects. Perhaps most discomfiting of all: while we may all at times feel like Pygmalion, Venus will never come. In her absence, we must understand our humanity well in order to live well [25].

1. Ovid, Tristia 2.207; cf. pages 30-32 of Katharina Volk, Ovid (Newark, United Kingdom: John Wiley & Sons, Incorporated, 2010) for a better introduction of the poet’s exile. Volk introduces his genre-bending with Metamorphosis earlier, on p. 29.
2. Ovid, Metamorphosis X.142-738. Please note that all translations are from the Raeburn translation for Penguin Classics. Ovid and Denis Feeney, Metamorphoses, trans. David Raeburn, Reprint edition (Penguin Classics, 2004).
3. Ovid, M. X.223
4. Ovid, M. X.238-239
5. Ovid, M. X.239-241
6. Ovid, M. X.234-243
7. Ovid, M. X.243-244
8. Ovid, M. X.245-246
9. Cf. Hesiod, Theogony 560-612 and Works and Days 60-105, where the most famously ambiguous Greek myth about the creation of women, the myth of Pandora, was repeated. While Hesiod was writing some seven hundred years before Ovid, this ambivalence is present throughout Greek and Roman literature alike. The figure of Dido in books 4 and 6 of Vergil’s Aeneid is a nearly contemporaneous representation of this trend with Ovid. Ovid himself was in many ways quite a libertine sexually – this need not imply he was any sort of egalitarian.
10. Ovid, M. X.252
11. Ovid, M. X.247-265
12. Ovid, M. X.266-269
13. See Jianfeng Wang, Yuanyuan Chen, and Hui Zhang, “Electrophysiological Evidence of Enhanced Processing of Novel Pornographic Images in Individuals With Tendencies Toward Problematic Internet Pornography Use,” Frontiers in Human Neuroscience, June 23, 2022, p.2. Note – I do not condone this particular piece of research as necessarily ethical or good; however, the data does exist now, and is illustrative of an important point. As a result, I have no problem citing it.
14. Ovid, M. X.273-275
15. Ovid, M. X.280-290
16. Again, see Hesiod’s portrayal of Pandora.
17. Augustine, On the Free Choice of the Will 3.17.48.164. The translation is that of Peter King as found in Augustine, Augustine: On the Free Choice of the Will, On Grace and Free Choice, and Other Writings, trans. Peter King (Cambridge ; New York: Cambridge University Press, 2010). 
18. Ovid, M. X.270-290
19. The reference is from the ESV.
20. See, for example, Andrew Tate. “Who Is Andrew Tate? The Self-Proclaimed Misogynist Influencer,” BBC News, December 30, 2022, sec. UK, https://www.bbc.com/news/uk-64125045.
21. Trueman, Carl R.. The Rise and Triumph of the Modern Self: Cultural Amnesia, Expressive Individualism, and the Road to Sexual Revolution (p. 293). Crossway. Kindle Edition. 292
22. For this argument, I am indebted to Ray Ortlund and his book The Death of Porn. Additionally, see Gen. 1:27 for the foundation of the Christian understanding of human dignity – the idea that God created humans in His image. This does not mean that human beings are perfect, or even that we are good morally – the Christian claim is that we are neither. Rather, the point is that in spite of our evil hearts and lives we have worth.
23. Gavin Ortlund, Humility: The Joy of Self-Forgetfulness (Crossway, 2022). p.xxvii
24. Thérèse Migraine-George, “Specular Desires: Orpheus and Pygmalion as Aesthetic Paradigms in Petrarch’s ‘Rime Sparse,’” Comparative Literature Studies 36, no. 3 (1999): 226–46. p.238
25. Understanding our humanity, in the Chrsitian perspective, first means realizing our createdness – the idea that we were made by God, for God. For help understanding the fuller consequences of this humility, see Basil the Great Homily 20. His point is deeper than the idea that humility will help us live well, though. As with most Chrsitian thought, his point is also that listeners might die well because of their understanding of and reliance on Jesus. Cf. Luke 14:11, James 4:6.