Author Archives: Sarah and Lindsey

Defining Celibacy, Revisited

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In one of our very first posts on this blog, we took some time to define celibacy. We offered a working definition of celibacy that centers on vulnerability, hospitality, shared spiritual life, and commitment. Not surprisingly, many commenters have been pushing back against our definition of celibacy for months, offering some variant of 1) those characteristics are/can be true of anyone living a Christian life or 2) non-celibate people certainly display those characteristics as well. It’s tricky for us to say how our practice of these values as celibate people is distinct from how non-celibate people can practice these same values. We share a strong disapproval of stereotypes of celibate vocations, and we’re concerned about doing the same thing if we were to discuss how these values manifest themselves in non-celibate relationships. We don’t see ourselves as qualified to tell married people (or even other celibate people) how they live or should live the four characteristics in our definition. Nonetheless, it’s worth revisiting how we define celibacy in response to some of the comments we’ve received.

To begin, it’s important to note that we understand both celibacy and marriage as vocations people enter into as adults. Part of living into one’s vocation is maturing in how one participates in the world. We’re sure many readers can bear witness to how marriage forced them, or others they know, to grow up in some profound ways. We believe that making a commitment to a celibate vocation also spurs a person towards maturity. Since both vocations provide a sort of proving ground for becoming an adult, we shouldn’t be entirely surprised that they challenge people to exercise certain values. If you flip through the New Testament, you’ll find a lot of different lists of what values increase when a person commits himself or herself to Christ. Vulnerability, hospitality, community, and commitment happen to be the four words we’ve chosen to call out relative to our experience of the celibate vocation.

Arguably, one of the most famous lists in Scriptures is found in Galatians 5 where Paul lists the fruits of the Spirit: love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control. (We took this list from the ESV, and the wording of your preferred translation might differ.) We would be hard pressed to think of any Christian we know who does not display these fruits of the Spirit to some degree. In all honesty, we’ve seen again and again that the children in our parish frequently do the best job at displaying these fruits. Neither one of us has any predisposition for searching out ways our fellow Christians fail to display the fruits of the Spirit. We’re much more prone to ask ourselves the question, “How can we cultivate good spiritual fruit?”

We think making a commitment to one’s vocation involves making a decided choice to cultivate spiritual fruit in specific ways. For us, our celibate vocation has challenged us to commit to the practices of being vulnerable, extending radical hospitality, forging a shared spiritual life, and opting into this way of life with 100% of ourselves. We learned about these practices by prayerfully observing as other people have lived celibacy. Many of these people are monastics who live in communities of various sizes. We don’t regard ourselves as having any particular authority on celibacy, and we are still discerning our vocation as a community of two. Individually and corporately, we have seen how the practices that define our celibate vocation have borne good spiritual fruit. For example, praying together about how to support Sarah’s health has helped Lindsey experience peace even in some exceptionally trying times. Sharing our thoughts vulnerably with one another and building a shared spiritual life has encouraged Sarah to exercise greater faithfulness in talking with God throughout the day. Because we share so vulnerably with one another, we know each other’s weaknesses and can challenge the other to choose the way of Christ in a much wider range of circumstances than ever before.

What strikes us as we consider the uniqueness of our way of life is that each practice connects with every other practice. These values are a package deal. With God’s help, we try to keep them going strong 100% of the time. As humans, we fall short of that goal often. Nonetheless, our eyes remain fixed on this particular path. But drawing a clear line that divides our celibate vocation from every other non-celibate person is next to impossible. Throughout time, there have been billions of married people sorting their values in ways that makes sense to them. It would be rather presumptuous for us to assert, “There has never been a married person who would describe vulnerability, hospitality, a shared spiritual life, and commitment as core values of a marriage.” We’ve never tried to make a claim that all celibates live one way and that all married people live in a wholly distinct way. There are places of unavoidable overlap in values that may manifest differently in individual couples. For instance, we know many married couples who regard welcoming children into their family as an essential aspect of their vocation. Welcoming children is a form of radical hospitality even if our friends rarely would use the word “hospitality” when describing why they are so committed to welcoming children. We do our best to avoid celibate triumphalism. It would be wrong to highlight how a monastic community in Guatemala runs an orphanage and overlook an untold number of married couples called to practice a similar ministry. We’re also entirely averse to writing anything on this blog that amounts to “We’re awesome because we do x, y, and z.” It’s difficult to say what God has called us to because of the way the tasks fit uniquely within our celibate vocation rather than because we’re better Christians for doing them.

The spiritual life rarely has neatly defined limits even as Western society has collectively howled for divisions and separations between “opposites.” Offering a working definition of something does not necessarily mean rendering it wholly distinct from all other things — even things in seemingly opposite categories. If you want to make Lindsey super irritated, try asserting that STEM disciplines are completely separate from the liberal arts disciplines. We have spilt so much ink since the Enlightenment trying to establish clear categories of difference. However, there is value in recognizing BOTH/AND constructions. Both men and women are people and bear God’s image. Both clergy and laity have important roles in the life of the Church. Both celibacy and marriage are vocations. We all live in the tension of being both sinner and saint. Recognizing the commonalities between things previously regarded as disparate deepens our appreciation of a world created by a God who is limitless, mysterious, beyond definition.

Our definition of celibacy fits snugly into the place of both/and. If how we live our vocation inspires non-celibate people to be more vulnerable, to practice more hospitality, to steward a communal spiritual life, and to consider making authentic commitments to one another, then perhaps it is bearing some good fruit. More to the point, as celibate people living in the world, we’re constantly inspired by non-celibates who make these values work amidst the craziness of life. If we recognize ways that our life looks different from other people’s lives, those differences likely stem from the fact that everyone is different. God isn’t up there in heaven shouting down to us clearly if some values are inborn and others need to be cultivated within our vocation. Truth be told, we can all grow towards Christ. And as long as we fix our eyes on Christ and pattern our lives after His example, we should be rejoicing that our lives look similar.

Comment Policy: Please remember that we, and all others commenting on this blog, are people. Practice kindness. Practice generosity. Practice asking questions. Practice showing love. Practice being human. If your comment is rude, it will be deleted. If you are constantly negative, argumentative, or bullish, you will not be able to comment anymore. We are the sole moderators of the combox.

Boundaries and Celibate Partnership

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We always enjoy talking with people who read our blog. We’ve been engaging in an extended conversation in the comments section with Maria McDowell and her readers at Women in Theology. Many of Maria’s commenters have raised thoughtful questions. We didn’t have space to respond to them all during our last post, and we wanted to respond to some on our own blog lest we unintentionally dominate the comments at WIT. Today we’re taking some time to discuss the issue of boundaries and exclusivity as it pertains our relationship.

We’ve heard several variations on boundary questions. Some people have asked us if our relationship is really a committed relationship if we do not have certain forms of physical intimacy reserved just for one another. Other people are mystified by the notion that we can even make boundaries work at all in the context of a celibate relationship. What gives our relationship its sticking power if we’re not sexually active? Are we in a “one person only exclusive committed friendship for life” relationship? Virtually every form of these questions wants to tease out why we consider celibate an important modifier of partnership. In this post, we’re going to talk about how exclusivity does — and does not — exist/function in our relationship. Some disclaimers before we get going: 1) we are not in any way, shape, or form in an “open relationship,” and 2) we are not trying to make generalizable claims about non-celibate relationships or celibate partnerships other than our own. This post should be read as a sharing of our own experiences and our observations of people closest to us.

As we reflected on where exclusivity does exist in our relationship, we found commitment to be at the heart of the question. We have made a commitment to be radically transparent, open, and honest with each other about everything at all times. Every day we talk about our successes, our failures, our triumphs, our anxieties, our fears, our shortcomings, things we realized while praying, happenings of the day, and places where we wouldn’t mind having a chance for a do-over. In a monastery, this sort of practice can be called the “confession of thoughts,” which is not to be confused with the mystery of confession. A “confession of thoughts” is a time to answer the question of “What have you been thinking about today?” thoroughly and prayerfully. Taking time to share the contents of our thoughts with one another helps us discern what steps God might be calling us to next. Sharing thoughts also connects us deeply with each other. Each of us has experienced innumerable benefits from having another person who cares to know about every thought, no matter how unimportant it may seem. To give but one example, being able to talk with Sarah about the stresses of the day has provided an entirely necessary valve on Lindsey’s temper. When we know the full picture of what’s going on, we’re able to offer each other much sounder counsel. 

Of course, we still share our lives fully with our spiritual directors and friends. However, sharing a household on a daily basis gives us a chance to be transparent with each other in a different way about matters big, small, and absolutely trivial. For example, if Sarah doesn’t do the dishes, Lindsey will check in with Sarah to ask what’s going on because this task is one of Sarah’s commitments for maintaining our household. Sarah might be exhausted after a long day of work, out late running a ton of errands, or simply forgetful. We discuss items like this all the time, and the openness has proven helpful in our spiritual growth. Though we do not hide anything from our spiritual fathers, our relationship gives us the advantage of having a deep connection with someone else who can help us make the right decisions day by day, sometimes hour by hour. Does anyone else need to know that Sarah forgot to do the dishes one day unless it falls into a bigger pattern worthy of concern? Probably not. Occasionally we choose to loop friends into particular situations where we share just as transparently with them as we would with each other, but we have made a solid commitment to share everything with each other always.

What we’ve just discussed is the most prominent example of exclusivity in our relationship. Despite the fact that we have committed to being 100% transparent with each other on a daily basis, our level of exclusivity seems distinct from what we’ve observed in many non-celibate relationships. We have enjoyed a profound degree of emotional intimacy with friends, we have no problems with how we naturally display physical affection to others, and we welcome guests regularly into our home.

We don’t hesitate to call on others during times of need. We have no illusions that we are somehow entirely sufficient for one another. We don’t consider ourselves one another’s “everything” — and we’ll expand on that thought in a post in the near future. We’ve learned who the other calls upon during especially stressful periods. When Lindsey receives a phone call from a particular childhood best friend, Sarah knows something is going on but waits to ask until Lindsey is ready to give the update, and trusts that Lindsey will offer it soon. Sometimes Sarah needs to go out for the evening to be with lots of local friends and share openly with them about a difficult situation. Lindsey understands that processing things with 10 (or more) people is just part of how Sarah’s extroverted brain works, and is confident that Sarah will share all the important details later. These examples probably speak to some people in healthy non-celibate relationships as well. However, based upon our own past experiences in non-celibate relationships, we are aware that some non-celibate couples have more difficulty sorting boundaries with friends (especially very attractive friends) than we do. Lindsey completely accepts that Sarah’s local friends include LGB women to whom Sarah is attracted, but still encourages Sarah to cultivate emotional intimacy with them. Sarah also accepts that many people Lindsey is emotionally close with have been past romantic partners or interests. Neither of us has ever had an ounce of concern about the possibility of unfaithfulness or our relationship being threatened by someone else. Neither of us has ever experienced even a hint of jealousy toward the other’s same-sex or opposite-sex friendships.

We have some truly fantastic friends, and we see the level of emotional intimacy we’re able to share with them as paramount to keeping our own relationship healthy. There are occasions when Lindsey is not able to attend to an immediate need of Sarah’s, and vice versa. In these cases, we know that we can rely upon our individual “circles of trust” to be there for whichever one of us is in the midst of a sudden crisis. As Sarah’s been coping with Meniere’s disease, Sarah has had some emotionally difficult days that have led at times to rough nights. Recently, Sarah spent almost an entire Friday night engaged in a text message conversation with one of our close mutual friends while Lindsey slept. The conversation was extremely helpful and exactly what Sarah needed, and both of us are certain that given the circumstances, Lindsey could not have provided the same level and kind of support so successfully. We accept these instances as signs of meaningful friendship with other people, and neither of us becomes angry, upset, frustrated, or suspicious of the other when they occur. In our own past experiences of non-celibate relationships, the story in this example would have had a very different ending. Neither of us has ever been in a non-celibate relationship where past partners would have considered having a midnight-to-5 AM text conversation with a close friend acceptable behavior.

Emotional intimacy goes two ways. One cannot expect to pour one’s heart out to one’s friends without also offering one’s own ears in return. We understand this reciprocity, and neither of us gets upset when the other spends considerable amounts of time being present for a friend. This past summer, Lindsey received a phone call nearly out of the blue from a past partner who was in a tough situation. Because of how Lindsey’s schedule worked out at the time, Lindsey called this friend on the way to and from work on a daily basis for several weeks. Commutes in our area are on the longer side, so it wasn’t uncommon for Lindsey to spend up to three hours a day talking with this past partner. The crisis reconnected them as friends. Lindsey now continues to talk with this friend regularly, and Sarah has no concerns about this arrangement.

One of the places where we most frequently confuse people regarding our boundaries relates to physical touch. Lindsey hugs truly are global public goods, and we’re both rather proficient snugglers. We have had several conversations with other people about what forms of affection are okay to share with friends and not saved exclusively for each other. Sarah has heard many variants of, “Would you be okay with Lindsey snuggling, dancing, or going out to dinner and a movie with someone else?” Our answer to these questions is always unequivocally yes. Then the questioner’s response is almost always, “You’re in the slim minority of opinion on that issue. I don’t know anyone else who would be okay with his/her partner doing those things.” We don’t doubt that at all. We both believe strongly that Western society today is far too afraid of physical affection. It seems to us that so many Westerners are afraid to be physically affectionate lest they be perceived as having particular romantic and sexual attachments. We won’t mince our words here: we think this social paranoia is stupid, cancerous, and outright deadly. Therefore, we have no problem with giving hugs, snuggling, embracing, and being fully present with other people. All people could benefit from having more folks who know, love, honor, accept, and cherish them. Why is it that we Westerners generally ween ourselves off of physically affectionate friendships after we’ve finished college?

The few bits of exclusivity in our relationship are primarily about supporting each other 100%. Each of us wants the other to grow as close to Christ as is humanly possible and to live an abundant life in the process. In our times together as a team, we frequently ask ourselves what would help us focus more outwardly instead of inwardly on ourselves and what makes us happy together. It’s hugely important for us that we are generous with emotional and practical support writ large, even as many people question how it’s possible that neither one of us is bothered by the way the other tries to love and serve the world. As we thought about the exclusivity question, we struggled to identify ways our relationship is exclusive. We’ve been amazed that as our relationship has deepened and matured, it has also become less and less exclusive. Our commitment to sharing our thoughts with each other transparently means that we have deep intimacy between the two of us. And ultimately, that intimacy serves to connect us to, rather than isolate us from, the world around us.

Comment Policy: Please remember that we, and all others commenting on this blog, are people. Practice kindness. Practice generosity. Practice asking questions. Practice showing love. Practice being human. If your comment is rude, it will be deleted. If you are constantly negative, argumentative, or bullish, you will not be able to comment anymore. We are the sole moderators of the combox.

Saturday Symposium: Future Celibacy and Vocation Topics

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Hi readers! Happy Saturday. We hope that you’re having a great weekend. Lindsey has had an awesome week getting into the full swing of things at the new job. We’re looking forward to spending a long weekend together. Today, we have plans to visit some of the critters at a nearby wildlife center.

Here’s our new Saturday Symposium question:

How this works: It’s very simple. We ask a multi-part question related to a topic we’ve blogged about during the past week or are considering blogging about in the near future, and you, our readers, share your responses in the comments section. Feel free to be open, reflective, and vulnerable…and to challenge us. But as always, be mindful of the comment policy that ends each of our posts. Usually, we respond fairly quickly to each comment, but in order to give you time to think, come back, add more later if you want, and discuss with other readers, we will wait until after Monday to respond to comments on Saturday Symposium questions.

This week’s Saturday Symposium question: As we reviewed our archives, we noted that we have been talking about a lot of LGBT topics in recent weeks. Some people have given us feedback that they wish we were talking more about celibacy and vocation. We do our best to give our readers input on the posts we write and would love to hear your thoughts: What questions do you have about celibacy and vocation? Have you been inspired by the example of a particular celibate person? Do you have questions you have wanted to ask us about celibate partnership? 

We look forward to reading your responses. If you’re concerned about having your comment publicly associated with your name, please consider using the Contact Us page to submit your comment. We can post it under a pseudonym (i.e. John says, “your comment”) or summarize your comment in our own words (i.e. One person observed…). Participating in this kind of public dialogue can be risky, and we want to do what we can to protect you even if that means we preserve your anonymity. Have a wonderful weekend!

Blessings,

Sarah and Lindsey

Comment Policy: Please remember that we, and all others commenting on this blog, are people. Practice kindness. Practice generosity. Practice asking questions. Practice showing love. Practice being human. If your comment is rude, it will be deleted. If you are constantly negative, argumentative, or bullish, you will not be able to comment anymore. We are the sole moderators of the combox.

The Meaning of “Support”: A Second Response to Maria McDowell

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Most of the conversations we engage in involve people who see the world differently than we do in one way or another. Occasionally, the direction conversation takes clues us into the possibility that we and the other party are likely talking past each other; by all appearances we are using the same words in different ways. As we read Maria McDowell’s second response to us, we perceived that Maria might conceive of the term support differently than we do. Therefore, we thought it would be helpful to clarify what we are requesting when we ask for support from others. For those who have not been following along thus far, our post discussing our celibate gay agenda kicked off this discussion. In that post, we stated:

“We fear the possibility that a time may be approaching when celibate LGBT Christians have only two options: 1) attend a church with a liberal sexual ethic where, in many cases, celibacy is frowned upon or misunderstood and celibates are not supported adequately; or, 2) attend a church with a conservative sexual ethic where celibates are expected to deny their sexual orientations or leave.”

We understand why people might be confused by what we mean when we say that celibates need to be supported by their faith communities, and more specifically when we discuss our own struggle to find that for ourselves. We can understand why one might become angry if that person perceived us as asking for support while at the same time withholding the same from him or her.

When a person asks us for our support regarding any life circumstance, we like to take some time to talk with him or her to understand the request. The word “support” can be interpreted in a variety of ways. If a random person holding a clipboard approaches us on the street asking for support, he or she most likely wants us to part with some money or to sign a petition. If a friend calls us at 3 AM crying, he or she asks for our support implicitly by hoping we’ll pick up the phone, listen, and maybe provide some pithy words of wisdom. If a person on Facebook is posting constantly about support for a particular cause, chances are pretty excellent that he or she hopes we’ll take some action to advance that cause. If one of our friends is dealing with major stress amid a seemingly hopeless situation, he or she likely covets our prayers that God would somehow intervene. We all have our own natural filters for determining what a person intends when asking for support. Oftentimes, we hear a person’s request and align our response with the kind of support we could see ourselves desiring in the same situation. All of us who strive to show empathy and compassion can struggle with how to offer the “right” kind of support, especially as we frequently project our own meanings onto the original request.

It’s really hard for non-celibate people to have any idea of how to support an individual trying to live celibacy, especially a non-traditional sort of celibate vocation. We get that. We’ve done our best to be explicit about what kinds of support we find helpful while writing for many different audiences. We have discussed how people with more traditional sexual ethics could support celibate LGBT Christians, both as a category and within the context of our own church family. Our experience has shown us that these people can find  our use of LGBT language to describe ourselves perplexing. We have also discussed how people with modern, liberal sexual ethics could be more supportive of celibates, and challenged our readers to think a bit more carefully about what it means to affirm a person before claiming the label “Affirming.” For the sake of being absolutely clear: when we ask for support as celibate LGBT Christians, we are asking simply to be treated as human beings who are part of a community of believers. We are not asking for pity. We are not asking folks to speak out if we do not receive communion in a particular church for whatever reason. We are not asking people to endorse our way of life explicitly. And we are certainly not asking people to dote on us because of all the ways they imagine our celibate vocations must induce pain and suffering.

As we see it, every person needs support to live a Christian life. The two of us are not special or unique among people. While we feel somewhat flattered when people see us as an authority on celibate partnerships, we constantly stress that we are not experts, and frequently we haven’t the foggiest idea of what God would have us do next. We feel like we are building the plane while flying it, and we do not have all of the answers. We find it surprising that all of a sudden, a handful of readers regard us as authoritative experts who are somehow responsible for everyone else who is discussing (or has discussed in the past) related topics in a similar way as we are. This leaves little room for us to be regular humans trying our best to discern an unusual vocation. It seems that Maria is holding us at least partly responsible for how any person within our Christian tradition has ever responded to LGBT people. Additionally, it seems as though she sees a connection between us and authors calling for shifts in pastoral practice towards a more inclusive “third way” or with a bit more “generous spaciousness.” Perhaps we have read Maria incorrectly on this, and we’re sure she will correct us if we did. Regardless, we do not think it’s reasonable or fair to hold someone who is trying a different approach responsible the shortcomings of anyone else who also happens to be seeking space for a less polarized conversation.

One of the claims we were truly surprised to see from Maria is:

“Sarah and Lindsey have made their personal decision public. It is the public declaration of a private practice that makes their blog such an important contribution, in large part because it transgresses the very neat lines we hope to draw around biological sex, sexual activity, and affinity for the other.”

A Queer Calling is openly accessible to the public, yes. We agree with Maria that one of the contributions we are able to make is challenging various categorical boxes. We also agree that our decision to pursue celibacy does not exist in a vacuum: personal decisions of this nature do have an effect on other people. But at the same time, our pursuit of celibacy is not nearly as public as some might think. That we blog about our experience as a celibate LGBT Christian couple does not automatically mean we make a point to discuss either our celibacy or LGBT status within our local parish. Outside the blog, conversations with friends, and confession/spiritual direction, we do not discuss these matters in other areas of our lives. Defining celibacy as vulnerability, radical hospitality, a shared spiritual life, and commitment makes our celibacy visible as a way of life. Yet, even members of our own families were not aware of our celibacy until we began blogging because we never had a significant reason to bring it up. We don’t walk around with the word “celibate” tattooed to our foreheads. Truth be told, before launching A Queer Calling, the only people in our lives who had any idea about our practice of celibacy were our spiritual fathers and close friends.

We’ve saved what we understand as Maria’s core objection for last. Maria writes:

I am also aware and deeply appreciative of Sarah and Lindsey’s hospitality through our personal communications, and am glad that A Queer Calling does all it can to be hospitable in an inhospitable environment. I am 100% sure I would be welcome at their table with them, in their home. I would be delighted to swap stories and enter with them into their daily prayer life. Until that prayer life broadened to include their parish. At that point, the hospitality of their home broadens to include the hospitality of their larger household, their ekklesia. Whether we like it or not, their priest may be required by the rule of his church to include or exclude me based on whether or not I am sexually active. Since I do not know their church or their priest, the invitation to pray with them corporately will inevitable be fraught with anxiety and grief: will I or will I not be allowed to eat with my friends at their ecclesial table?

Maria rightly highlights the existence of church communities that actively exclude LGBT people — both non-celibate and celibate — from partaking of the Eucharist. Lindsey still has poignant memories of the first time Sarah discussed our relationship with the priest at our current parish. The outcome of that conversation was positive, but the experience of it was terrifying. We’ve both had dreadful experiences when seeking pastoral care in the distant and not-so-distant past. At one point, Lindsey was nearly asked to leave a Christian tradition entirely because word got around that Lindsey was planning a spiritual retreat for LGBT Christians. In Sarah’s previous Christian tradition, Sarah was once denied absolution during the sacrament of confession — not because of a sin, but because Sarah had used the word “lesbian.” In many Christian traditions, it’s all too easy for clergy members to become obsessed with homosexuality, ignoring everything else about a person’s lived experience. We are willing to say that if the only kind of a person a priest would exclude from the Eucharistic table is a sexually active LGBT Christian, then that priest has seriously misunderstood the praxis of excommunication. Priests and pastors can act in haste when talking with an LGBT Christian, so we understand why Maria would perhaps be nervous and anxious about having a conversation with our priest.

At the same time, we’re puzzled: how is it our fault or the fault of any member of our parish if our priest were to decide not to commune Maria? That’s completely, 100% out of our control. Deciding who is or is not permitted to commune is not our place as lay people. And quite frankly, we’re glad because that’s not a responsibility we would want to have. We don’t envy the job of our priests in this regard. Every Sunday, our church is full of both communicants and non-communicants. People abstain from communion all of the time for a multiplicity of reasons. We try to do our best to ensure that we are growing towards Christlikeness, and have no interest in ascertaining the exact reasoning of every non-communicant. The question of whether to receive communion or to abstain should invite sobering consideration where, periodically, most everyone will abstain from receiving.

We do understand the pain of not being able to receive communion during a Eucharistic service. We exclude ourselves from Eucharistic tables with some regularity. Our celibacy does not ensure that we are welcome at every Eucharistic table. We are members of a closed communion tradition, and we have chosen to follow our tradition’s wisdom on discerning when and where to receive communion. When we visit churches outside of our tradition, we don’t commune. And we greatly appreciate being offered space to choose not to receive.

Throughout all of these points, a central aspect we noticed as we read Maria’s latest response was her framing the discussion in terms of solidarity. Solidarity is not a word that we invoke much in these conversations because for many people it brings up associations with politically-charged activism, which is not at all how we conceive of our needs for support within a faith community. We’d be interested in hearing Maria’s take on what she means when she discusses solidarity and support. What we mean when we say “support” is being surrounded by other Christians who treat us like people. We want to join our humanity with the humanity of everyone else seeking Christ. All Christians need encouragement to grow towards Christ, and part of existing within an ekklesia necessarily is supporting others in their journeys to unity with God.

Comment Policy: Please remember that we, and all others commenting on this blog, are people. Practice kindness. Practice generosity. Practice asking questions. Practice showing love. Practice being human. If your comment is rude, it will be deleted. If you are constantly negative, argumentative, or bullish, you will not be able to comment anymore. We are the sole moderators of the combox.

Love, Languages, and Logic

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A reflection by Lindsey

As I have been discerning my celibate vocation over the past few years, I’ve heard a lot of objections on various grounds. Many people say that celibacy cannot possibly be life-giving because physical touch is one of five “love languages.” Gary Chapman championed the concept in his 1995 book, which has spawned all sorts of spin-offs. I know people who have spent considerable time discerning how words of affirmation, acts of service, receiving gifts, quality time, and physical touch affect how they experience love. Some believe that if they understand their own love languages and how their loved ones have different native tongues, then they will be able to love much better.

There are merits to Chapman’s ideas. Anyone who has ever received a Lindsey hug knows how much I value my ability to speak the language of physical touch. But recent experiences have me questioning if love’s languages are quite so logically discernible.

Sarah is adjusting to life with Ménière’s disease, and it’s progressing quickly. If you’re like me, this is probably the first time you’ve ever heard of this condition. It’s a degenerative inner ear disorder that impacts hearing and balance. It causes unpredictable attacks of vertigo accompanied by fullness and ringing in the ears and temporary hearing loss. Over time, the hearing loss becomes permanent, ranging from mild to profound in severity depending upon the specific patient. Treatment involves trying to slow the degeneration, and the options are none too appealing. Speaking candidly, some are outright terrifying. Sometimes in frustration and sadness I find myself asking, who wakes up in the morning wondering whether within a few weeks/months/years, he or she will be trying to decide whether to go with steroidal injections that accelerate hearing loss or with a surgery to cut nerves of the balance and motion sensors? This condition is life-altering in many ways.

While some might argue that it’s Sarah’s diagnosis and not my responsibility to manage, it affects my life also. Daily, I get to make all kinds of fun choices. Drastically limiting sodium intake is a first line defense. I oscillate between being shocked by the amount of sodium in everything and feeling triumphant when I’ve managed to prepare surprisingly creative meals where all the ingredients combined have less than 400 mg of sodium. (And, being the engineer that I am, I tend to press a bit harder to see if I can keep that total reliably below 300 mg.) I have tried to transition our kitchen into a low sodium kitchen because it’s easier to avoid eating particular items if you don’t have them in the house at all. Restaurants rarely have meals that are low enough in sodium, so we’re having to rethink what we want to do when we want to be out and about in the city.

Despite our best efforts, Sarah continues to experience periods of temporary profound hearing loss, and over the past few weeks we’ve witnessed the level of permanent hearing loss increasing. I didn’t really gain any empathy for what Sarah has been experiencing until I played around with a hearing loss simulator. And…wow. My mind was completely blown. I didn’t realize that it was possible for people to lose the ability to hear certain letters. If you’re a hearing person, could you imagine living your life in a constant game of Wheel of Fortune? Sarah has been working with a great ear, nose, and throat (ENT) doctor who specializes in inner ear disorders, but Sarah’s audiograms show continuing declines in nerve function. We’re bracing ourselves because we anticipate doing what we can to preserve balance in at least one ear, which likely means we’ll make choices that accelerate Sarah’s hearing loss.

When faced with complete helplessness, I’m generally okay with searching for a way to do something rather than nothing. Sarah has a good number of close friends in the Deaf community. I’ve been doing what I can to develop survival ASL skills. So far, most of my letters are recognizable (by Sarah) even though I’m still trying way too hard and cramping my hands. We’ve been practicing my alphabet with the School Song from Matilda the Musical. I also know the exceptionally important signs for “hamster” and “squirrel” and can sign some of my most frequently used phrases. I sometimes join in as Sarah studies for ASL class. In addition to Sarah’s course, we’re looking forward to attending ASL sessions offered for free at the public library so I can expand my basic vocabulary.

Periodically over the last several weeks, these realities have hit me hard. I reflect frequently on what it means to me to tell Sarah that I’m opting in, 100%. I’m still in, and I have no intention of going anywhere. The mindboggling “logic” of love continues to surprise me. I’m learning something about how Christ neither leaves nor forsakes us. I see a great deal of wisdom in doing what I can to adapt to changing situations rather than focusing all of my efforts into praying that Christ would magically restore Sarah’s hearing. To be sure, I pray about the situation constantly. Yet my mind constantly wanders towards how hearing people have a number of misconceptions about deaf and hard of hearing people. When I get into engineering mode, I think about designing something that has broad import and meets Sarah’s needs. I think about how having even basic conversation skills in ASL will enable me to connect to a whole new group of people.

As I’ve learned to live into my celibate vocation, the word “choice” has taken on new meaning for me. The easiest thing for me to control in this situation is my attitude. I have made different choices regarding my personal level of investment. It’s easier for me to zoom in my energies on mastering low sodium cooking than it is for me to learn ASL. Vocations tend to work best when people can build upon their natural strengths. Nonetheless, the cost of living one’s vocation is high. I really dislike the idea that Sarah and I need to figure out other ways to have fun. Restaurants offered such a perfect solution for my introversion and Sarah’s extroversion. A desire to empathize with Sarah has changed my understanding of what it means when a person is deaf or hard of hearing. I’ve been praying about how Christ wants this new understanding to impact my life, and I sense that I will have more and more opportunities to interact with people who are deaf or hard of hearing.

We’ve written a number of posts where commenters have asked us, “How is what you’re talking about different from a marriage?” I’d like to pre-empt that question a bit. Over the last several weeks, I’ve noticed some interesting trends in my thoughts:

  • I keep thinking about the people I haven’t met yet. I have at least four (five, if you count Sarah) friends who are deaf, hard of hearing, or in the process of losing hearing. But I find myself prayerfully musing on the people I will meet as Sarah develops greater confidence in conversing in ASL.
  • The engineer in me is pretty frustrated with the state of our technological solutions for people who lose their hearing after growing up in the hearing world. I’m keeping a notebook of ideas to see if I can work with people to develop the ideas further.
  • I reflect on people I’ve met while supporting Sarah with other health concerns.

We talk often about how the celibate vocation enables people to love and serve the world differently. While I certainly do not want to lose the ability to communicate effectively with Sarah, my thoughts turn quickly towards other people in similar situations. The fact that Sarah is hurting is a comparatively minimal part of my outrage at the state of things. I should note that my outrage is reasonably massive, but it’s clear that the situation developing within our community of two will spur action that extends far beyond our little family. Mother Maria of Paris frequently wrote on the need to serve people on the margins of society. I find myself asking for her intercession as I work to discern my next steps.

I am not the only person who has had to navigate receiving tough health news within his or her family. Many people give their all to caring for and advocating on behalf of their loved ones. I have been amazed to watch parents and children rallying together during health crises, and in no way do I want to belittle the selfless gifts of those who are not living celibate vocations. They give themselves to each other as a family. Monastics will frequently devote themselves to caring for one another, explaining their actions in terms of attending to their brothers or sisters. I’ve noticed that through this most recent health ordeal, God is challenging me to open my heart that much more towards people as he keeps reminding me over and over again that Sarah is human. I’m not quite sure what to make of that rather consistent nudge in my prayer life, but I’m seeing how it directs me towards loving and serving the world in a way that is unlike any I’ve ever known.

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