The ardent passion on display in Showtime’s Masters of Sex has nothing to do with physical intimacy. One would think a show about William Masters and Virginia (Gini) Johnson, the research team who pioneered human sexuality beginning in the late 1950’s, would have fervent physical lust as a narrative impetus. Their work tore down stereotypes, boundaries, and misconceptions surrounding male sexuality, female sexuality, and the many complex ways in which those two may—or may not—need, react to, or engage with one another. Yet, the most passionate moments in the show are not during Bill and Gini’s research. True passion is on display in their commitment to that research, in the sacrifices they make in every other area of their lives, so that the research might go on.
In Christian-ese we would say the passion for their work constitutes a “calling,” the task for which they were born. Moreover, they demonstrate equal and opposite calls to the vocation of researcher. For Bill, human sexuality is something that fascinated him his whole life. Gini’s calling, on the other hand, was more abrupt and circumstantial. Through streaks of good and bad fortune, she suddenly found herself in a perfect position to contribute to a groundbreaking field of research she never knew existed.
Early on in season 1 there is a revealing flashback in which we learn that Bill’s entire career has been a long con. Having just graduated medical school, Bill shows Barton Scully (currently Bill’s boss, then just a mentor) an experiment he has been conducting on rabbits. He tells Scully he wants to move on to human sexuality, at which point Scully scoffs and tells him anyone studying that would be labeled a pervert, deviant, or worse.
Upon further prodding, Scully postulates that to even think about studying human sexuality, one would have to have a spotless image—a fastidious personal appearance, working in obstetrics, at a teaching hospital, with a wife and children—so as to remain above reproach. It then becomes clear that Bill’s passion is so great, his vocational devotion so sincere, that he fabricated the nation’s most successful, renowned obstetrics program for over a decade merely as a façade, just on the off chance that when he finally got around to studying what he actually wanted to, people would accept his work.
Given this incredible level of determination, Bill’s behavior toward his wife and others is explained though certainly not justified. When he condescends to Libby, or shows her slightly less empathy than a T-800 would show, it’s not out of spite; she is merely a means to his end of being the first respected, medical, sex researcher in history.
This utilitarian approach extends to other relationships as well: Bill has no problem using Barton’s closet homosexuality to blackmail him into supporting Bill’s study; he fires Gini the moment she challenges him and only re-hires her upon realizing she is best for the study; he makes no effort to hide his disdain for his mother, since she poses no benefit to the study. The study is his passion, and he is more than willing to sacrifice anyone or anything in his life to see that it continues.
Gini’s calling, because it occurred more abruptly, is more disruptive in her life. When Bill comes home late several nights in a row, his depressed wife simply mutters, “Well, you know Bill…” When Gini does the same, her kids begin to despair and drift away because it is unusual. When she was a lounge singer or secretary, hours were late but at least they were regular. Like Bill, she loves the prospect of researching sex for a living. But while Bill loves it because he could never have imagined any other occupation, Gini loves it because of her other occupation. Or, perhaps more accurately, Gini has had several occupations but finally found a vocation.
Through opposite routes Gini and Bill find themselves becoming a formidable team, one primed to break down important barriers in understanding human biology. Because the show is historical, we have the benefit of knowing what became of the real Masters & Johnson team. Their innovative work on human sexual response was eventually accepted. They went on to write best-selling books and are generally regarded as brave pioneers, the first to dispel myths about human arousal, homosexuality, and more.
Yet the show Masters of Sex is still difficult to watch. The excitement of their work’s potential blinds Bill and Gini to the price they pay in pursuing it. They consistently hurt the people in their lives that care about them the most, continually ignoring, exploiting, or otherwise diminishing the value of friends, family, and coworkers. They even—or perhaps especially—hurt each other, over and over, in the cliché romantic cycle of he likes her, she rebuffs, he withdraws, she likes him, he rebuffs, she withdraws, etc.
How can we know if our calling is genuine? If we think God is leading us in a certain direction, and that path involves human suffering at our hands (even a tiny amount), was it really God? On the other hand, should we tiptoe through life so that we never cause a stir or offend anyone? As a Christian, how can I be sure I’m following God’s call on my life? Sometimes when God tells people to do something that will hurt others, it was just a test… but sometimes it really does hurt others.
But what if calling is a myth, and God is still on his throne regardless of what profession we pursue? What if, instead of looking for positive reinforcement from God (“Tell me what you want me to do!”), we delight ourselves in him and follow our hearts while staying alert for negative reinforcement (“I’m going to go to do this unless you say otherwise”)? What if any number of vocations would still allow us to live out of the Gospel of Jesus Christ and into the Kingdom of God on earth?
Among other important, delightful, and hedonistic things, Ecclesiastes tells us that we should enjoy our vocations for the time God has us on earth. Most of contemporary culture glorifies genius even (or especially?) when it comes with the price of personal demons (See also: Steve Jobs, Kurt Cobain, R. Kelly, JFK, etc.)
Masters of Sex presents the viewer with a troubling question: Would you pursue a calling that made you and everybody around you miserable if you knew you would later be deemed a success? If your calling becomes toxic, is it a vocation or an obsession? How are we to know if and when we cross this line? Can we even see it in ourselves, or only in others?
Of course, in the real world, if someone we care about is slowly poisoning themselves and their relationships, there is no magic guarantee of future success, only the signposts of present decay. This may be one of the many reasons God designed humans to live in community—sometimes we can’t see the logs in our own eye.
On Masters of Sex, Bill Masters’ toxic pursuit of his passion was such that even those closest to him—Gini, Libby, and Barton—could not speak to, correct, reproof, or otherwise inform him in any way. Masters was too immature, cowardly, or focused (depending on your diagnosis) to even be completely honest with Gini, with whom he ostensibly shared the onerous passion for sexual research. Ironically, for a man who gave everything to study the human body, Bill Masters had no idea how to be human (demonstrate empathy, compassion, etc.) or that he should belong to a body, not just membership to a vocational association, but to a community.
This latter concept (body, community) is the costly price Masters paid in pursuit of his passion. It is also one of the greatest assets a Christian has in his or her pursuit of any vocation, as Paul affirms:
I therefore, the prisoner in the Lord, beg you to lead a life worthy of the calling to which you have been called, with all humility and gentleness, with patience, bearing with one another in love, making every effort to maintain the unity of the Spirit in the bond of peace… The gifts he gave were that some would be apostles, some prophets, some evangelists, some pastors and teachers, to equip the saints for the work of ministry, for building up the body of Christ, until all of us come to the unity of the faith and of the knowledge of the Son of God, to maturity, to the measure of the full stature of Christ.
Anyone seeking ultimate in fulfillment in his or her vocation alone will always be left wanting. A job can be a blessing, a source of income and pride, and a contribution to human flourishing, but is not itself an end for our existence (a telos). God alone can create, sustain, transform, and fulfill a human life. Being part of a body of like-minded believers connects us, not only to God but to the other members of his kingdom whom we need (and who will need us!) along the way.