What's the Difference?

Remember that scene from Life of Brian? The one where our ersatz savior, in an attempt to disband a growing mob of acolytes, tries to remind them that they all have to be "different"? And of course the hive-mind spits back an echo: "We are all different!" (A lone and querulous voice rises from the chorus: "I'm not!") 

Most of us are eager to brand ourselves as "diff'rent." We watch the pandemonium of the world pass by us like a gaudy parade. We're most keenly objective when confronted by the masks that resemble us most. We "just look at things diff'rent from that they do," even if, like Emma, we have difficulty in tracing that difference to any positive quality. "Pride goeth before a fall": and how many times have the bringers-forth of this apothegm been any more reflective than Emma, and applied the words to themselves? If the pride of "diff'rence" springs directly from the root of conscious being then we all must warily eye the left arm of the judgement seat.

But Emma really does appear to be "diff'rent" from the men and women with whom she shares the stage. She's different because she's the only one who insists on difference. Mrs. Crosby knows that her daughter is "touchy and diff'rent from most." Emma's social and psychological isolation tells us something important: namely, that she is the main character of the play. She's the only one who believes that social realities aren't immutable. She stands out. 

According to Caleb, men swear for much the same reason that dogs bark: it's a "part o'" their nature. Emma's brother, Jack, isn't surprised that a ship's brief watering stop might degenerate into a week-long orgy: "o' course, everything happened as it always does." And "Caleb's a man," isn't he? A leopard can't change its spots. To expect it to do so is merely risible. Either a man's a man -- with all his "wickedness" intact -- or he's a creepin'-Jesus, a sky-pilot, a plaster saint: anything but something "natural." Emma ought to follow her mother's advice and simply "realize what men be" without trying to change them. And

Why should a man desire in any way

To vary from the kindly race of men

Or pass beyond the goal of ordinance

Where all should pause, as it most meet for all?

Tithonus is the chorus for his own tragedy. Why should we expect ourselves or others "to vary from the kindly race of men"? Why insist on difference? It's better to lie low and hope the fates pass you by. This is the wisdom of the tragic chorus.

1) There's a Bible lying next to some trashy novels. Jack tells Emma that Caleb's no "Sunday-go-to-meetin' saint." Nor is he "one o' them goody-goody heroes out o' them story-books." Why does O'Neill juxtapose the discourse of religion with that of "popular entertainment"? 

2) Do you think that Jack is right to identify these discourses as the source of Emma's "diff'rence"?

3) Is sexual morality the only issue at stake in Emma's conception of "diff'rence"?

4) How many "deconstructivist" readings of this play do you think are floating around the MLA database?