This is the whole chapter - I thought more context would
be appreciated, and perhaps also dispel certain thoughts
running through the thread.
I really do hope you enjoy this thoroughly as I have,
and also are challenged, encouraged, and grow
in sanctification as a result of reading this in conjunction
with your relationship with God.
_____________________________________________
ELEVEN
SEXUAL SAINTS
Marital Sexuality Can Provide Spiritual Insights and Character Development
Like all truly mystical things, love is rooted deeply and rightly in this world and this flesh.
-Katherine Anne Porter
Gifts of a loving Creator, our bodies are not barriers to grace. If we could truly accept this, then we would know God even in the ambiguous delights of our sexuality.
-Evelyn and James Whitehead
We find God in the Contact of our bodies, not just in the longing of our souls.
-Evelyn and James Whitehead
I was in junior high, walking toward a group of buddies, when my best friend at the time came out of the circle and stopped me.
"No," he said. "You don't want this."
"What are you talking about?" I asked, hurt that this guy, of all people, would spurn me.
"This isn't for you."
I learned later that my friend was keeping me from a book that was making the rounds at our school. It had something to do with sex-complete with pictures - and the dog-eared corners attested to its being quickly stashed in sock drawers and under mattresses in numbers adolescent-occupied homes.
Most of us are introduced to sex in shameful ways. The viewing of "dirty" books or the experience of sexual abuse at the hands of an older person often usher us prematurely into the world of sexual knowledge. The natural result is that most of us have to overcome some deep-seated anxieties about sex. Many Christians don't see sex as a gift for which to be thankful, but as a guilt-ridden burden to be borne. And naturally, anything so intimately connected with guilt is difficult to view as a ladder to the holy.
Some of this guilt - which psychologist Willard Gaylin calls "the guardian of our goodness" - is justified. When we stray outside God's perfect will, we should feel guilty. But guilt is not infallible, nor does it always turn itself off when it is no longer applicable.
In spite of the uncomfortableness with which we approach sexuality, most married Christians know that sexual intimacy can produce moments of sheer transcendence - brief, sunset-like glimpses of eternity. On the underside of ecstasy we catch the shadow of a profound spiritual truth.
Thus we are caught in the perplexity that sex often represents both the best and the worst moments of our lives. While sex may at times create moments that mark our deepest shame, it can also make us feel more alive than ever before.
In this chapter, it is my desire to move past the harm and shame brought about by sex experienced outside the protecting walls of virtue, and examine how it is possible for this very fleshly experience to sharpen our spiritual sensitivities. If sex is going to turn us toward God and each other, it is vital that we examine it with Christian understanding. Christian spirituality serves us in at least three ways here: It teaches us the goodness of sex while reminding us that there are things that are more important than sex. It allows us to experience pleasure without making pleasure the idol of our existence. It teaches us that sex can certainly season our lives but also reminds us that sex will never fully nourish our souls.
To begin to view sex in this positive sense, as a mirror of our desire and passion for God, the institution of marriage becomes all-important. If we think about sex only within the confines of marriage - thereby sanctifying it as God intended it - the analogy of sex leading us toward God may not seem so farfetched. To be sure, sex is abused within the marriage relationship as well, so let's take this a step further. Add in the notion - which we discussed earlier - that sex is to be used to serve our spouse, as well as the analogy that our restlessness for the sexual experience mirrors our restlessness for God, and the ability to use our sexuality as a spiritual aid may begin to make more sense.
So, in order to benefit from the insights of this chapter, try to move past the hurt, shame, guilt, and angst that you associate with sex because of what you may have experienced, talked about, or seen depicted outside the marital relationship. Homosexuality, premarital sex, fantasy-laden masturbation, hard-core inappropriate contentography - non of that constitutes "sex" as we're defining it here. Redefine sex as it was in Eden, as it was when Adam "knew" Eve and began to populate the world. Think of sex only in these terms, and then think of how God can reveal himself to you within your marriage through the gift of sexual pleasure.
It might sound shocking, but it's true: God doesn't turn his eyes when a married couple goes to bed. It only stands to reason that we shouldn't turn our eyes from God when we share intimate moments with our spouse.
Ambivalent Ancestors
For centuries, Christian spiritual writers have viewed sexuality as problematic at best. The Christian church has delicately tiptoed around the essentiality of sex, attempting to rein in its power by regulating its tides - sometimes with almost comical effect:
In the second century, Clement of Alexandria allowed unenjoyed and procreative sex only during twelve hours out of the twenty-four (at night), but by the Middle Ages, preposterous as it now seems, the Church forbade it forty days before the important festival of Christmas, forty days before and eight days after the more important festival of Easter, eight days after Pentecost, the eves of feast days, on Sundays in honor of the resurrection, on Wednesdays to call to mind the beginning of Lent, Fridays in memory of the crucifixion, during pregnancy and thirty days after birth (forty if the child is female), during menstruation, and five days before communion!
This all adds up to 252 excluded days, not counting feast days. If there were thirty of those (a guess which may, in fact, be on the conservative side, there would then have been eighty-three remaining days in the year when (provided, of course, that the woman did not happen to be menstruating or pregnant or in the post-natal period, and provided that they intended procreation) couples could with the permission of the Church have indulged in (but not enjoyed) sexual intercourse!
All this reminds me of the time my children and I were at the beach. The tide was coming in - and the kids had built a sand castle. For forty-five minutes we fought desperately to save the sand castle from the encroaching sea. We built large barriers around the castle and carried in large pieces of driftwood to serve as a block, but eventually, of course, the sea won and the sand castle was ruined.
Trying to put so many burdensome restrictions (even within marriage) on such a powerful force as sexual expression is ultimately futile. It's like trying to hold back the sea. The desire to regulate marital sex comes, at least in part, from our fear of it. Common sense tells us that sex is necessary for the human race to continue - God's command to Adam that he "be fruitful and increase in number" (Genesis 1:28) was an explicit commandment to engage in sexual relations - but religious apprehension makes us think that the "most holy" amongst us will somehow shun its pleasure. This, tragically, would mean that only the least holy would actually raise children - which doesn't bode well for the faith of the next generation.
This fear of sex prepared its assault early on, particularly in the interpretation of the obviously erotic Song of Songs. The clear implication of Origen's work (around A.D. 185-254) was that fleshly, intoxicating pleasure had no place in this world. Only "spiritual delights" counted for anything. Don Allender and Tremper Longman point out, "Origen interpreted the highly sensual Song of Songs in an allegorical, spiritual manner, doing to that book the same thing he did to his body when he took a knife and castrated himself."
A century later, at the famous Council of Nicea (A.D. 325), certain radicals started suggesting that bishops must be celibate. A well-respected ascetic bishop, Paphnutius, opposed this suggestion vigorously, rightly arguing that "it was "chastity" for a man to "cohabit" with his wife." It was particularly significant that an ascetic bishop pledged to chastity had the wisdom to argue this position, as he clearly had nothing to gain from it. But Pahnutius was certainly the exception, and his opinion was soon buried by the weight of the famed church father Augustine (354-430).
Augustine - who stamped Christian thought like few others - taught that sexual intercourse transmitted original sin, thereby (perhaps unintentionally but surely regrettably) entangling sin and sex for centuries to follow. As a result, the church often had a difficult time reconciling sanctity with a sexually active life. Mary Anne McPherson Oliver points out that very few canonized saints were married and that "none of these few were canonized as models for conjugal virtue."
By the fourth century, Ambrose was calling marriage "honorable," but he tempered the compliment by calling chastity "more honorable." Institutionally there was still this sense in which sexual intercourse was "excused" provided it was participated in for the sake of procreation. All other sexual relations within marriage still constituted "venial" sin (excusable, but a black mark nonetheless).
There were moments of enlightenment, however. There is evidence that in medieval times, priests would sometimes bless a newlywed couple in their bridal bed. Interestingly enough, the Puritans seemed unusually at ease when it came to embracing sexual pleasure. Richard Baxter wrote that husband and wife should "take delight" in the love and company and conversation of each other. He wrote, "Keep up your conjugal love in a constant heat and vigor." He added that spouses must not suffer their love "to grow luke-warm."
But most gains were short-lived, relatively speaking. An ancient Sarum rite (on which the 1549 Anglican Prayer Book was based) had, since at least A.D. 1125, nuptial rites that included the words, "with my body I thee worship." This was rather bold and provocative for any period in the church, let alone the Middle Ages, so perhaps it is not surprising that these words were stricken from the Anglican Prayer Book in 1786.
Reconciling sex and sanctity has never been fully accomplished up to this very day, though the Second Vatican Council relinquished somewhat the idea of married believers as second-class Christians. In a document titled, "The Call of the Whole Church to Holiness," the Roman Catholic Church "emphasizes that all God's people are called to the fullness of Christian sanctity, and that sanctity is available to all in and through their particular vocations."
Even so, the few canonized saints in the twentieth century who had been in marriage relationships were, as Mary Anne McPherson Oliver observes, routinely martyrs or stigmatics, widows/foundresses of religious orders, and husbands who had left wife and family to become missionaries or hermits. These individuals were extolled in spite of being married, not because they exhibited an unusual commitment to holiness within marriage.
Perhaps we can be charitable toward the ancients' (and our own) uneasiness with sex in part because few of us can deny the truth that, in one sense, "sex is a heavy burden that God has laid upon mankind."
While it is beyond doubt that the Bible has a favorable and positive view of sex - witness the Song of Songs, for instance - biblical writers are also acutely aware of the sanre of sexual sin and our propensity to spoil the good gift God has given us.
This human inclination is precisely why the institution of marriage is so crucial as we seek to navigate the sea of sexual desire. It is the only context in which sexuality becomes spiritually meaningful and helpful.
be appreciated, and perhaps also dispel certain thoughts
running through the thread.
I really do hope you enjoy this thoroughly as I have,
and also are challenged, encouraged, and grow
in sanctification as a result of reading this in conjunction
with your relationship with God.
_____________________________________________
ELEVEN
SEXUAL SAINTS
Marital Sexuality Can Provide Spiritual Insights and Character Development
Like all truly mystical things, love is rooted deeply and rightly in this world and this flesh.
-Katherine Anne Porter
Gifts of a loving Creator, our bodies are not barriers to grace. If we could truly accept this, then we would know God even in the ambiguous delights of our sexuality.
-Evelyn and James Whitehead
We find God in the Contact of our bodies, not just in the longing of our souls.
-Evelyn and James Whitehead
I was in junior high, walking toward a group of buddies, when my best friend at the time came out of the circle and stopped me.
"No," he said. "You don't want this."
"What are you talking about?" I asked, hurt that this guy, of all people, would spurn me.
"This isn't for you."
I learned later that my friend was keeping me from a book that was making the rounds at our school. It had something to do with sex-complete with pictures - and the dog-eared corners attested to its being quickly stashed in sock drawers and under mattresses in numbers adolescent-occupied homes.
Most of us are introduced to sex in shameful ways. The viewing of "dirty" books or the experience of sexual abuse at the hands of an older person often usher us prematurely into the world of sexual knowledge. The natural result is that most of us have to overcome some deep-seated anxieties about sex. Many Christians don't see sex as a gift for which to be thankful, but as a guilt-ridden burden to be borne. And naturally, anything so intimately connected with guilt is difficult to view as a ladder to the holy.
Some of this guilt - which psychologist Willard Gaylin calls "the guardian of our goodness" - is justified. When we stray outside God's perfect will, we should feel guilty. But guilt is not infallible, nor does it always turn itself off when it is no longer applicable.
In spite of the uncomfortableness with which we approach sexuality, most married Christians know that sexual intimacy can produce moments of sheer transcendence - brief, sunset-like glimpses of eternity. On the underside of ecstasy we catch the shadow of a profound spiritual truth.
Thus we are caught in the perplexity that sex often represents both the best and the worst moments of our lives. While sex may at times create moments that mark our deepest shame, it can also make us feel more alive than ever before.
In this chapter, it is my desire to move past the harm and shame brought about by sex experienced outside the protecting walls of virtue, and examine how it is possible for this very fleshly experience to sharpen our spiritual sensitivities. If sex is going to turn us toward God and each other, it is vital that we examine it with Christian understanding. Christian spirituality serves us in at least three ways here: It teaches us the goodness of sex while reminding us that there are things that are more important than sex. It allows us to experience pleasure without making pleasure the idol of our existence. It teaches us that sex can certainly season our lives but also reminds us that sex will never fully nourish our souls.
To begin to view sex in this positive sense, as a mirror of our desire and passion for God, the institution of marriage becomes all-important. If we think about sex only within the confines of marriage - thereby sanctifying it as God intended it - the analogy of sex leading us toward God may not seem so farfetched. To be sure, sex is abused within the marriage relationship as well, so let's take this a step further. Add in the notion - which we discussed earlier - that sex is to be used to serve our spouse, as well as the analogy that our restlessness for the sexual experience mirrors our restlessness for God, and the ability to use our sexuality as a spiritual aid may begin to make more sense.
So, in order to benefit from the insights of this chapter, try to move past the hurt, shame, guilt, and angst that you associate with sex because of what you may have experienced, talked about, or seen depicted outside the marital relationship. Homosexuality, premarital sex, fantasy-laden masturbation, hard-core inappropriate contentography - non of that constitutes "sex" as we're defining it here. Redefine sex as it was in Eden, as it was when Adam "knew" Eve and began to populate the world. Think of sex only in these terms, and then think of how God can reveal himself to you within your marriage through the gift of sexual pleasure.
It might sound shocking, but it's true: God doesn't turn his eyes when a married couple goes to bed. It only stands to reason that we shouldn't turn our eyes from God when we share intimate moments with our spouse.
Ambivalent Ancestors
For centuries, Christian spiritual writers have viewed sexuality as problematic at best. The Christian church has delicately tiptoed around the essentiality of sex, attempting to rein in its power by regulating its tides - sometimes with almost comical effect:
In the second century, Clement of Alexandria allowed unenjoyed and procreative sex only during twelve hours out of the twenty-four (at night), but by the Middle Ages, preposterous as it now seems, the Church forbade it forty days before the important festival of Christmas, forty days before and eight days after the more important festival of Easter, eight days after Pentecost, the eves of feast days, on Sundays in honor of the resurrection, on Wednesdays to call to mind the beginning of Lent, Fridays in memory of the crucifixion, during pregnancy and thirty days after birth (forty if the child is female), during menstruation, and five days before communion!
This all adds up to 252 excluded days, not counting feast days. If there were thirty of those (a guess which may, in fact, be on the conservative side, there would then have been eighty-three remaining days in the year when (provided, of course, that the woman did not happen to be menstruating or pregnant or in the post-natal period, and provided that they intended procreation) couples could with the permission of the Church have indulged in (but not enjoyed) sexual intercourse!
All this reminds me of the time my children and I were at the beach. The tide was coming in - and the kids had built a sand castle. For forty-five minutes we fought desperately to save the sand castle from the encroaching sea. We built large barriers around the castle and carried in large pieces of driftwood to serve as a block, but eventually, of course, the sea won and the sand castle was ruined.
Trying to put so many burdensome restrictions (even within marriage) on such a powerful force as sexual expression is ultimately futile. It's like trying to hold back the sea. The desire to regulate marital sex comes, at least in part, from our fear of it. Common sense tells us that sex is necessary for the human race to continue - God's command to Adam that he "be fruitful and increase in number" (Genesis 1:28) was an explicit commandment to engage in sexual relations - but religious apprehension makes us think that the "most holy" amongst us will somehow shun its pleasure. This, tragically, would mean that only the least holy would actually raise children - which doesn't bode well for the faith of the next generation.
This fear of sex prepared its assault early on, particularly in the interpretation of the obviously erotic Song of Songs. The clear implication of Origen's work (around A.D. 185-254) was that fleshly, intoxicating pleasure had no place in this world. Only "spiritual delights" counted for anything. Don Allender and Tremper Longman point out, "Origen interpreted the highly sensual Song of Songs in an allegorical, spiritual manner, doing to that book the same thing he did to his body when he took a knife and castrated himself."
A century later, at the famous Council of Nicea (A.D. 325), certain radicals started suggesting that bishops must be celibate. A well-respected ascetic bishop, Paphnutius, opposed this suggestion vigorously, rightly arguing that "it was "chastity" for a man to "cohabit" with his wife." It was particularly significant that an ascetic bishop pledged to chastity had the wisdom to argue this position, as he clearly had nothing to gain from it. But Pahnutius was certainly the exception, and his opinion was soon buried by the weight of the famed church father Augustine (354-430).
Augustine - who stamped Christian thought like few others - taught that sexual intercourse transmitted original sin, thereby (perhaps unintentionally but surely regrettably) entangling sin and sex for centuries to follow. As a result, the church often had a difficult time reconciling sanctity with a sexually active life. Mary Anne McPherson Oliver points out that very few canonized saints were married and that "none of these few were canonized as models for conjugal virtue."
By the fourth century, Ambrose was calling marriage "honorable," but he tempered the compliment by calling chastity "more honorable." Institutionally there was still this sense in which sexual intercourse was "excused" provided it was participated in for the sake of procreation. All other sexual relations within marriage still constituted "venial" sin (excusable, but a black mark nonetheless).
There were moments of enlightenment, however. There is evidence that in medieval times, priests would sometimes bless a newlywed couple in their bridal bed. Interestingly enough, the Puritans seemed unusually at ease when it came to embracing sexual pleasure. Richard Baxter wrote that husband and wife should "take delight" in the love and company and conversation of each other. He wrote, "Keep up your conjugal love in a constant heat and vigor." He added that spouses must not suffer their love "to grow luke-warm."
But most gains were short-lived, relatively speaking. An ancient Sarum rite (on which the 1549 Anglican Prayer Book was based) had, since at least A.D. 1125, nuptial rites that included the words, "with my body I thee worship." This was rather bold and provocative for any period in the church, let alone the Middle Ages, so perhaps it is not surprising that these words were stricken from the Anglican Prayer Book in 1786.
Reconciling sex and sanctity has never been fully accomplished up to this very day, though the Second Vatican Council relinquished somewhat the idea of married believers as second-class Christians. In a document titled, "The Call of the Whole Church to Holiness," the Roman Catholic Church "emphasizes that all God's people are called to the fullness of Christian sanctity, and that sanctity is available to all in and through their particular vocations."
Even so, the few canonized saints in the twentieth century who had been in marriage relationships were, as Mary Anne McPherson Oliver observes, routinely martyrs or stigmatics, widows/foundresses of religious orders, and husbands who had left wife and family to become missionaries or hermits. These individuals were extolled in spite of being married, not because they exhibited an unusual commitment to holiness within marriage.
Perhaps we can be charitable toward the ancients' (and our own) uneasiness with sex in part because few of us can deny the truth that, in one sense, "sex is a heavy burden that God has laid upon mankind."
While it is beyond doubt that the Bible has a favorable and positive view of sex - witness the Song of Songs, for instance - biblical writers are also acutely aware of the sanre of sexual sin and our propensity to spoil the good gift God has given us.
This human inclination is precisely why the institution of marriage is so crucial as we seek to navigate the sea of sexual desire. It is the only context in which sexuality becomes spiritually meaningful and helpful.
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