I had dinner with a friend the other night, who told me that he ended his marriage. Well, technically, his marriage had been over for years, but he had reached the point where he could no longer continue living a lie. His wife was devastated, and his grown children were very upset. My friend feared this would be the case, but he could not see continuing on in the marriage. It was unfair to both him and his wife, who are both still relatively young, and a loveless marriage was not an example he wanted to set for his children.

None of this was out of the ordinary. Many marriages don’t last until death do them part. While every situation is unique, research indicates that the family disruption and reorganization caused by divorce is oftentimes better for the children. But what was not common in my friend’s case was the reaction of his own family. My friend’s family shunned him. Declared him “dead to them.” At a time when he needs support for taking a step that upended his own life, they turned their backs on him.

While it sounds insane that a family would reject a member due to the breakdown of a personal relationship between that member and another adult, it’s actually not a surprise to me. Like my friend, I’m Italian-American. My ancestors came on steamships from southern Italy in the early 1900s, seeking to escape grinding poverty and to start a new life. While they brought what few possessions they could, perhaps the heaviest baggage they lugged through the gates of Ellis Island was the cultura dell’onore – the culture of honor and shame.

I was immersed in this culture from birth. I learned as a young child that one family member hadn’t spoken to another for decades due to a slight (the specifics of which were irrelevant; the fact that it happened and that the offender was appropriately shunned were what really mattered). We were warned not to share with outsiders anything that parents discussed; family business stays within the family. If a family member offended another, or to use the cultural parlance, “didn’t do the right thing,” amends could only be made (following a suitable period of ostracism) at a sit-down where the offender had to accept full responsibility. Most of all, we were to revere my grandfather, the patriarch of the family, who would often declare at our large gatherings that “family” was the most important thing (yes, raise your glass of chianti classico and cue the scene of Sunday dinner at the Soprano’s).

When I got older, it was a bit of a surprise to learn that my grandfather, our revered patriarch, a man all about “family,” had been an abusive husband and father, so much so that my grandmother had to flee from him with her children—my mother, aunt, and uncle—to find safety. This stands, perhaps, as one of the bravest acts I’d heard of, for my grandmother was living in an Italian-American enclave in 1940s New York.

To understand how this was bravery and not simply desperation, you have to understand the cultura dell’onore. The practice emerged in Medieval Catholic Italy, where families were led by patriarchs, power depended upon social standing, and alliances between families were established through marriage, which required a woman’s “purity.” A woman was expected to be a virgin at marriage, otherwise she could lose her dowry and the union would not go through, bringing shame onto the family and a loss of status. Purity points were also deducted for a woman who divorced because she had broken the sacred Catholic sacrament of marriage. Through much of the history during which the cultura dell’onore thrived, the fact that a woman could not own property meant that a divorced woman with children had nearly zero marriage prospects, could not support herself, would be a financial burden on either her family or the Church, and brought shame upon the family.

While there was an economic basis for the cultura dell’onore in pre-modern times, these notions are both quaint and irrelevant today. Premarital sex is common, if not the norm. Women can own property, get jobs, and be self-supporting and independent. Remarrying after a divorce, sometimes more than once, is nothing out of the ordinary. All fifty states have alimony and child support laws to ensure the financial stability of the party with lesser means. No rational family feels shame when a member of that family recognizes that their marriage is over. It’s sad for the couple and their children, certainly, but it’s not a reflection on anyone else.

But for my grandmother, the price of leaving her husband would be familial exile, disdain by members of her Italian-American community, and limits on her future prospects. Her decision to flee an abusive man, while driven by a need to protect herself and her children, was quite brave. It’s only now, sadly, that I fully realize the price we all paid. She was a delightful person who seemed magical to us when we were kids and made us feel wonderful, yet she was never invited to family gatherings. We would ask why, but our questions were always brushed off. I know now: Shame! Shame! Shame! (Stretching all the way back to the 1940s). I wonder how many more seats at the dinner table of our family gatherings were empty due to the cultura dell’onore.

The irony of all this is that the cultura dell’onore, brought to America over a century ago, has been receding in Italy. After World War II, as Italy industrialized and modernized, gender equality began to replace the traditional patriarchy system, families were no longer isolated in rural communities, and society became more secular. The culture can still be found in isolated rural, conservative areas, but it stands now as a relic of centuries past when economics required the threat of ostracism to force unhappy couples to stay together.

When my grandfather finally passed away many years ago, I refused to attend his funeral. Besides the fact that his last days and death led to recriminations and splits in the family that continue to this day, I could not see myself honoring the memory of a man who had been so destructive to the family. I refused to stand with those who would ignore his abuses and place him on a pedestal while shunning a brave woman simply to satisfy a cultural anachronism. I would not be counted among the hypocrites ringing his grave. When I informed my mother that I would not be attending, I also conveyed my hope that this inhuman way of treating people would end with her generation. I certainly would not be passing these ideas on to my own children. I fervently hope that fellow Italian-Americans of my generation also recognize the harm that these archaic ideas can inflict on those who deserve our love and respect and shed this cultural burden.

P.S. For those whose Catholicism make it difficult to adopt a more humanistic approach to family relationships, particularly regarding divorce, I can help with that. The scriptural foundation of the sacrament of marriage is formed by Matthew 19:6 (“What therefore God has joined together, let no man separate.”) and Ephesians 5: 25-33 (the analogy of marriage to the relationship between Christ and the Church). Both passages were written two generations after Jesus died. That’s right, Jesus had nothing to do with the idea of marriage as sacred; it was not contemporary to his time. Divorce was a relatively common practice among both Jews and Romans when Jesus was alive.

Decades after his death, however, the movement Jesus started, which was committed to feeding the hungry and getting the rich to provide for the poor directly through alms and indirectly through paying taxes, would have the added burden of providing support for a woman and her children as a result of divorce. Forcing a couple to remain together ensured that the early Church wouldn’t have to expend scarce resources on divorced members. This change in divorce practice was added to scripture and, to give the idea authority, attributed back to Jesus (long dead) in the case of Matthew and back to Paul (just as dead) in the case of Ephesians.

Long story short, if your adherence to the cultura dell’onore is based in part on your religion, you’re going to have to make a choice between being a Christian—living by Jesus’s example, which is still relevant today—or being a Catholic by adhering to a theology that evolved after the time of Jesus and was influenced by economic and social conditions that no longer exist. Just ask yourself—what would Jesus do? Shun a family member, or treat the person with love, compassion, and understanding?