Inspired by the change of editorial direction announced in the April 1st edition of Clean Sheets, I too am renouncing my sinful ways. Instead of urging you into licentiousness and debauchery as, alas, I've been doing for the last four months, I am going to tell you a Bible story.

There was once a young woman named Salomé. She lived with her mother and her stepfather in a nice palace. It's uncertain why she and her mother weren't living with her natural father, but I think we can reasonably speculate that there was an abusive relationship involved. You see, Salomé was not as well adjusted as you or I.

Her stepfather happened to be a tetrarch. We don't have many tetrarchs nowadays. They were men who ruled a quarter of a kingdom, but we normally remember this man as though he ruled the whole thing. We call him King Herod. Salomé was just a little girl when Herod and her mother tied the knot. Time wore on, though, and her mother's charms faded. And it wasn't too long before Herod noticed that his stepdaughter was, well, not exactly a little girl any more, if you catch my drift. Of course, since he was a tetrarch and a Bible personality as well, we can be certain that he would never have cheated on his wife. But I'm afraid that his eye fell upon his stepdaughter more than was strictly proper.

In the meantime, there was a famous prophet in the kingdom, and his name was John. If he had been born a couple of thousand years later, he might have founded the John-school movement, but the world was so wicked in so many ways that he couldn't afford to specialize. Instead, he spent all of his energies telling people to repent their sins and to have a bath; hence, the name John the Bathtist. His most famous client was an itinerant preacher whom we remember as Jesus Christ. John had strong views on just about everything, including Salomé's mother's marital status. He denounced her publicly, calling her names that I wouldn't dream of repeating in a respectable journal like Clean Sheets.

Well, I hardly need to tell you, that went over poorly in the Herod household. The tetrarch had John arrested and cast into a dungeon right in the palace. This may not have been the wisest thing to do since John had a big, loud voice and Salomé's mother couldn't help but hear him calling the curse of Heaven upon her. She asked Herod to send the prophet to his just reward, but the pious tetrarch was reluctant to have the blood of such a holy man on his hands.

Salomé: Not enough wholesome activities

Now Salomé didn't have a lot of wholesome activities to occupy her time. There were no drama club or gymnastics after school; no malls to hang out in. Instead, she noted with amusement how every man in the palace pretended not to be watching her, and she discovered all kinds of little tricks and mannerisms to make them pretend even harder. After John's arrival at the palace, her life took on a new focus. The strange, virile prophet excited feelings in her that, well, she had never felt before. She managed to see him and express her interest, but he told her off almost as roundly as he was telling off her mother. John wasn't much of a diplomat.

While all this was going on, Herod threw a party. He got deeply into the juice of the fruit of the vine and, before you knew it, he was saying things that he would certainly regret the next morning. He asked Salomé to dance for him and swore that, afterward, he would give her anything that was within his power to give.

Now when I was a child, I thought as a child. Now that I am a man, these events take on a certain resonance. When the good Sisters of Mercy first acquainted me with the story in my primary years of Catholic schooling, I imagined that Salomé tap-danced or perhaps did a Highland fling. But I think the dance actually had something to do with a costume of seven veils that she took off one at a time, dropping them on the ground. Whatever it involved, Herod was satisfied. He pronounced himself ready to honour his oath, though he hesitated mightily when Salomé demanded John's head on a silver platter.

Some of our good Christian readers will have noticed by now that my account of the incident contains a lot of detail that isn't spelled out in the Bible. For that we must thank the noted mystic and scriptural scholar, Oscar Wilde. And I must confess that Wilde's work might not have come to my attention if Richard Strauss had not taken it up. Strauss was one of the greatest composers of the late German romantic period. His importance in the world of sacred music is sometimes compared to that of Hildegard von Bingen and Tennessee Ernie Ford. Not often, though.

Strauss wrote an opera based closely on Wilde's play. He called it Salomé.

In the opera, our heroine is indeed presented with John's head. She spends more than 200 measures of the score making love to it. Finally, an appalled Herod orders his soldiers to crush her beneath their shields, thus bringing this charming morality play to a close.

Fascinating though the story is, I'm not sure many of us would want to adopt Salomé as a role model for our love lives. It's not that I wish to condemn anyone's sexual preferences, you understand, but prophets and tetrarchs are not at all common these days, nor is it considered good form to chop off people's heads just because someone has done a sexy dance for you. So I wouldn't list this opera as a major turn-on for the average person.

If you want to see for yourself, however, there is an excellent video of it featuring Catherine Malfitano in the title role (Teldec 9031-73827-3). At first, Malfitano looks a little old for the part, but two minutes after her arrival on stage, all that the viewer is aware of is her sizzling sexuality. The famous dance is done more effectively than I've seen anywhere else, except for a recent production in Montreal. It's the only video I know of in which Salomé actually takes her clothes off. And Malfitano has a body that's definitely worth undressing.*

Many people will prefer to stick to the music for Salomé's dance, however. It is darkly, intensely erotic, suggesting every manner of forbidden passion and sultry satisfaction. It is also a popular concert piece, so there are dozens of recordings available. Its potential as an accompaniment to bedtime adventures will be obvious to almost anyone who hears it.

* Another recording featuring Maria Ewing has come to my attention since this article was written, and I definitely prefer it. For a full review, click here.

This article originally appeared in Clean Sheets.