The Chick-fil-A debacle began a couple of months ago when Dan Cathy announced that the Chick-fil-A corporation supports the “biblical definition of marriage” and “the traditional family.”
By the traditional family, of course, he most likely meant man and wife, with two children, a boy and a girl. But to me, the “traditional family” is just a myth, no more existent than a hermaphrodite fire-breathing polar bear with leathery bat wings.
The definition of a traditional family shouldn’t have four specific members with specific requirements of living. The traditional family should be anything that it just happens to be. It should be any family that is free of judgment and hate. That may be two women married in the state of New York with four adopted children of different races or one person living alone in an apartment eating ice cream and takeout at every meal.
And as for the biblical definition of marriage, that’s a touchy subject. Biblical passages that could be about gay hate tend to stem from the Old Testament, and so do most of the passages having to do the “biblical definition of marriage.” That is to say, according to the Bible, a woman is to treat her husband as if he were God himself (Ephesians 5:22-23), and if a woman’s husband dies and they haven’t produced a child, then the dead husband’s brother must marry her, no matter what her wishes might be (Genesis 38: 6-10).
As a child growing up in Sioux City, Iowa, I didn’t really go to Chick-fil-A very often. In fact, the only Chick-fil-A within about a hundred miles was in a tidy little corner of the mall at the very edge of the food court. I don’t believe I even ate there more than twice. And yet, that red “C” formed into the rough shape of a chicken is still stuck in my brain. Whenever my family members would mention Chick-fil-A, I always knew what they were talking about, whether they were saying how delicious it was or considering going to the mall and eating there.
Ten years later, it’s a very different story. Rather than have that red “C” painted in my mind as a joyful place that sells “the best chicken sandwich,” it’s now a sinister restaurant of hate and bigoted principles. In my sophomore year of high school, during the state choir competition, we each got a free chicken sandwich and waffle fries paid for by the school district. However, this was before the fiasco that broke out over the company supporting “the biblical definition of marriage.”
As much as it pains me to say this, the food was absolutely delicious. I savored every bite of the scrumptious chicken, layered between two warm buns and dipped in their special red sauce.
After that, if I could have gone there every day to eat, I would have (except for on the hallowed day of the Lord, the Sabbath, of course). However, due to my lack of a car, I didn’t, and I am thankful for that now. I would have regretted every cent I spent to help their corporation oppose same-sex marriage.
Needless to say, I won’t be, as those cows in the Chick-fil-A ads advise, eating “mor chikin” there any time soon.
