So we've gotten through function one (the rules) and function two (the science), and now it's time for function three: society.

A good mythology wraps up the social structure in the same wallpaper as the science and the rules: you can't change you station in life any more than you can delay a sunrise or decline to die. The social laws govern what's right and wrong, and who's responsible for what, and they're as divine and ineffable as anything else.

Joseph describes the Pope's position as being "absurd" when it comes to contraception -- the rules are obviously a little silly, but there's simply no method of appeal.

This is a bit of a worry if you're going to believe Dante's vision of Heaven -- when he gets to the heavenly auditorium of the heavenly rose, Beatrice points out that the place is nearly filled to capacity. We're coming up on a millennium having passed since those words were written; what sort of state can the place be in these days?

This conflict came to a head in India around the time that Joseph was lecturing -- "if you want to be British, break caste. If you want to be Hindu, obey scriptures." Well, what are you going to do? If your position in the caste is to live in the dirt on the outskirts of town, suddenly tea and crumpets sound like a nice idea. Of course, the higher-ups don't want their assistants to quit, so they've got to build up the majesty of the system. Some are better at this than others.

So far we've covered three functions: participatory awe, science-rules, and society-rules. The fourth is pretty easy to glom onto: lifespan-rules. How do you move from infancy to adolescence to adulthood to old age and then death? A good myth holds your hand for you.

There's two main aspects to this function, and both deal with adulthood: the entrance and the grand egress. It's crucial that kids learn to disengage their obedience, to say, "thanks for the help, parents; I'll take it from here." Though hopefully they will not adopt an approach as terminal as Malcolm MacDowell's:

Imagine how things would go to pieces if all the grownups were looking around at each other for permission. No, instead, there is a certain age at which, if everything has gone according to plan, we have gathered sufficient information and experience to make wise choices; and we begin to do just that. And then after fifty or so years, when we're getting a bit wobbly, we get ready to sit back and let the young people with flashier shoes take over. There's something impossibly weird about old people acting like they're not about to rest:

The interesting thing about the move from dependence to independence is that traditionally, kids were expected to take over their parents' rules without question -- but nowadays, there's a lot of judging and adjustment that goes on. You can either take over exactly where your parents left off like the villain in an 80s teen sex comedy; or you can blow things up completely, like Malcolm MacDowell. Or you can swim somewhere in between. That in-betweeny swimming is a fairly new option, which is why it makes for such an interesting theme in modern stories. In fact, it's so interesting that Joseph goes into much greater detail, which is what I'll start doing in the next section.