The Sexy Religion

Since the popularization of Blessed John Paul's "Theology of the Body" and the attendant proliferation of talks and study guides attempting to unpack it, there have been endless debates among intelligent, well-meaning Catholics about "how far is too far" when it comes to the goodness of sexual pleasure within marriage, and the appropriateness of sexual language and imagery in the spiritual life. Most recently, Catholic blogger Heather King, author of "Shirt of Flame", which is syndicated by Fr. Robert Barron's "Word on Fire" blog, has received no small amount of criticism regarding her latest piece, "The Yes of Erotic Catholicism". I encourage all to read the piece themselves, as well as the comments to it. I offer my own thoughts here.

I have long suspected that the subtle poison of puritanism has found its way into the Body of Christ, a suspicion that has been confirmed by the emphatic rejection of any kind of sexual language or imagery as applying to the spiritual life. This attitude seems to be that the spiritual life, one's relationship with God, is holy and pure, and sensual pleasure is somehow less so. Further, the suggestion that a clear analogy obtains between the spiritual union of God and Man and the corporeal union--even orgasm--of sex is at best suspect, at worst positively dangerous. But whence does this attitude come? More to the point, is it consistent with traditional Catholic teaching regarding human sexuality and the spiritual life?

As to the provenance of this attitude, one can only speculate. Let us suppose that the anti-erotic party are an intelligent, psychologically well adjusted, well meaning lot (and a cursory glance at the "Comments" box below King's post suggests that they are). Precluding any deficiency in these areas, one can only say that, somehow, the prohibitions of the Catholic sexual ethic ("Thou shalt not commit adultery [or] covet") have so superseded its prescriptions ("Be fruitful and multiply") as to obscure them altogether. And this attitude we call puritanism.

This poses a problem in that in Scripture the prescription, the "Yes", precedes the prohibition, the "No", and is in service to it. God made Man in His own image, to be a communion of persons whose physical and spiritual union participates in the generative power of God Himself. Only much later does God give to Moses the Law by which Man is to live in accord with the divine will. But to suggest that "the chill bonds of law and duty and custom" (to use Waugh's phrase) is the beginning and end of the Church's sexual ethic is to tell only half of the story.

Perhaps more to the point, ours is a tradition that celebrates, within the limits of temperance and prudence, human sexuality, and the erotic generally. The Song of Songs proposes the intensely erotic love between King Solomon and his young bride as an apt metaphor for the love of God and His people, and the prophet Hosea recounts God's heartbreak when Israel is unfaithful to its divine espousal. The Church's rich literary and artistic tradition, too, is full of erotic imagery and language, from Bernini's sculpture "The Ecstasy of Saint Teresa" to Gerard Manley Hopkins' poem "Pied Beauty". Even the Liturgy is sexually suggestive, as every Easter Vigil the Pascal candle is repeatedly plunged into the Baptismal font, the "womb of the Church". Blessed John Paul has stated that a husband and wife are most fully an icon of the Trinity when they are sexually intimate.

To be absolutely clear, nobody is suggesting that God's relationship to the individual consists in explicit genital stimulation, as in the old Greek myths and fertility cults; that is quite obviously a perversion. Rather, we are made in the image and likeness of God, the God who became Man in the person of Jesus Christ, who entered into the fullness of human experience, including human sexuality. Our Church therefore celebrates erotic love, even as she struggles to keep that love pure, holy, and life-giving.

Religion, Violence, and True Peace

I finally had the opportunity to see The Stoning of Soraya M. The film, set in Iran in 1986, is based on the true story of a woman named Soraya. Soraya is a good, compassionate woman; she consoles the local mechanic when his wife dies, and even agrees to work for him, cooking, cleaning, and caring for his mentally handicapped son. When her abusive husband, Ali, desires to marry a younger "woman" (she is fourteen years old), he asks for a divorce, and enlists to local mullah (cleric) to help him. In return, he will grant Soraya a portion of their property and custody of their two daughters (he will, of course, take their sons). Meanwhile, the mullah will attend to any other needs, with the expectation of forming with Soraya a "temporary marriage", called a mut'ah, which is allowed by Sharia (Islamic law). Unwilling to give up her dignity to become what she calls a "holy whore", Soraya refuses to grant the divorce.

Ali, infuriated, conspires with the mullah to charge Soraya with adultery, which is a capital offense according to Sharia. They produce false witnesses, including Soraya's employer, a simpleton who is easily coerced. Together with the spineless mayor, and despite the best efforts of Soraya's noble aunt, Zahra, they convict and brutally stone Soraya to death. Buried waist deep with arms bound, Soraya is forced to watch as her own father, husband and young sons take part in the bloody scene. The next day, an Iranian-French journalist, in need of an auto mechanic, happens upon the small town. With a bit of stealth, Zahra leads the young man to her home, where she insists that he listen to her story, and tell it to the world.

Soraya's story, though saddening, must be heard, especially in the West, where we have such little direct knowledge of Islamic culture. I assert that if there is a tendency to violence in Islam--as there clearly is--it has less to do with "extremism" (whatever that may mean) than with Islam's basic conception of God. As Christians, we believe Deus charitas est, "God is love" (1 John 4:16). The appropriate faith-response to the God who is love is love. Muslims, we might say, believe Deus voluntas est, "God is will". The only appropriate faith-response to this God is submission, hence the name "Islam" (Arabic, "submission"). Because God's will is absolute, it must be done, whether by persuasion or by force.

Muslims have a custom of adding "peace be upon him" whenever they speak the name of Muhammad. I would suggest that Christians, when speaking the name of Jesus, add "who IS peace." Because only in the God who reveals Himself in Jesus Christ, and who provides in Him a model of non-violence, compassion, and love, can we truly have peace.

Detachment

Saint John of the Cross (with Teresa of Jesus, founder of the Discalced Carmelite Reform), a revered Doctor of the Church, wrote much on the topic of detachment. That is, that we as Christians should be detached from all temporal things, even those which are themselves good or profitable, such as our human relationships.

We may understand well enough why Saint John would counsel us in detachment from something like wealth, status or power. We need only look around and see how money is often the cause of much anxiety, the enemy of inner peace; the poor break laws to get money, the rich break laws to keep it, and both break more than laws in this plutonian pursuit, leaving in their wake a litter of broken hearts and broken homes. Such is the result when people try to fill with riches the void that only God can fill. And if any suffer more than these two extremes of the economic strata, it is those in the middle who from below and from above are subjected to the perennial lie: Money can indeed buy happiness. The expression "They had just enough money to make them miserable", comes readily to mind.

But what of those things which are obviously good, even of God? What of our friendships and marriages, anything that belongs to the sphere of human relationships? Yes, from these too, Saint John insists, we must be detached, good though they are and far superior to material wealth or status. As Scripture says, "Were one to offer all he owns to purchase love, he would be roundly mocked" (Song of Songs 8:7). Even these, however, can never fill the void in every human heart; loneliness, which is the human condition, can only ever be fully remedied by the indwelling of the Spirit of love and truth.

This does not mean that we must (necessarily) divest ourselves of all worldly wealth, status, power and (God forbid!) relationships, hermit-like. We need not run off to the mountain or the desert to escape temptation for, as the Gospel clearly demonstrates, even there (especially there) do we meet temptation (cf. Matthew 4:1-11). But everything must be ordered to the service of God and judged, for good or for ill, according to the extent that they serve God. If your riches empower you for the service of God, thank Him for them; if your riches are a consistent occasion of sin and grief, thank Him for them and then give them back.

Think about this the next time you get that whopping paycheck (some of which you will save, and some of which you spend on Christmas presents, a dinner out with friends and--one hopes--some charitable cause): What if God took it all away? Would it affect my relationship with my family, my friends... God Himself? Would the loss pull me down into despair? Would my ability to trust and to love be crippled? Would I have the peace of spirit to learn and grow from the experience?

Put another way, our human loves must never become possessive. (See what a difference such slight modifications of language make.) Perfect love (Latin caritas, Greek agape) is not only non-possessive, it is self-giving love... sacrificial love, for which Christ died on the Cross. And this is yet another paradox of the Cross: He loved the world too much to be bound to it.



"Love consists not in feeling great things but in having great detachment and in suffering for the Beloved." Saint John of the Cross

In His peace.

The Heart of the Matter

Though we are now more than half-way through June, it would pain me to let it pass without sharing my special devotion to the Sacred Heart of Jesus, to which this month is dedicated (the Feast of the Sacred Heart falls on the first Friday in June).

We may well ask, What is the Sacred Heart? I suppose it is, in the principal sense, the actual physical heart of our Lord, and, inasmuch as He is the Word made flesh, it deserves to be worshiped as a member of the body of Him who was both human and divine. However, the Sacred Heart is much more than a human organ. In a general sense it is a symbol of the love of God, who "so loved the world that He gave his only Son," who Himself "was pierced for our offenses" (Isaiah 53:5). In another, more definite, sense it is the love of God Himself; it is the God who is love itself (1 John 4:8).

I think a personal testimony is appropriate here. Since I was born (or so it seems) I only ever wanted to attend Michigan State University; the first song I learned was the Fight Song and Sparty was among my earliest heroes. Consequently, when the time came (in my Senior year of high school) to apply to colleges I chose just one, MSU. This, in itself, was a leap of faith; one might say blind faith. Frankly, I had mediocre grades, minimal community involvement, an application essay that was (to put it charitably) less than stellar, and no other means of working the system (Irish Catholic not being far enough removed from the WASP category to qualify as ethnically diverse).

Thus was I brought, quite literally, to my knees... to pray. Bypassing the entire communion of saints (not a practice I would generally recommend), I appealed directly to the love of Christ in the form of the Sacred Heart. Every night I knelt before an image of the Sacred Heart, pleading for acceptance to my college of choice, State. When I received a letter from the Admissions Office requesting my spring mid-semester grades, I tucked it behind that image. Then, after weeks of anxious waiting and fervent prayer, I was accepted.

Of course, one may well argue that it was not divine intervention but my own effort and merits that opened the doors to those ivy-covered halls. Experience, however, would suggest otherwise. As time passes I see ever more clearly the love of Christ working in my life. I have grown immensely in these past two years; I have, by turns, known a despair that has suffocated my soul and a love of which I though myself incapable, and yet, in everything, the steady rhythm of the Heart of Jesus, which beat wholly for me. That Heart beats for you too, forever saying "come to me all you who labor and are burdened and I will give you rest... learn from me, for I am meek and humble of heart" (Matthew 11:28, 29).

May you forever rest in the Sacred Heart of Jesus.

This video explains in greater depth the history and theology of the Sacred Heart Devotion. Enjoy!



In His peace.