Category Archives: Sexual Ethics

Redefining Sexual Ethics Redefines Celibacy

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Today, we are honored to share a guest post from our friend Alison, another celibate member of the LGBT Christian community. Periodically, we hope to share the stories of other LGBT celibates here because we believe that all stories are valuable and worthy of being told. Each of our guest posters will have different experiences of celibacy, Christianity, sexual ethics, and life in general. That means not everything contained in every guest post will mirror our own thoughts, opinions, theology, and life experience. We believe that diversity is a beautiful part of the divine mystery, and are eager to learn more from others as they graciously share their stories with us. If you are a celibate LGBT Christian and would be interested in sharing your story with us at A Queer Calling, feel free to Contact Us.

A reflection by Alison

I was asked several months ago, “As a lesbian, why are you embracing traditional sexual ethics? Why aren’t you just a becoming a nun in the Episcopal Church?” I spent 2 years trying to be a celibate in the Episcopal church even though I was called to a more traditional denomination. Every time a conflict arose between me and the Episcopal Church, I ended up losing a deeply held notion about ethics, gender, and sexuality, and being pushed more toward Tradition. There has been a major shift in my entire way of thinking in the past few years, and when I look back on the path from there to here, I realize I would have to write volumes of text and reveal embarrassing details to guide just a few people through the same path. My answer to the question will be limited in space, education, and experience. What I can say, even at this point, is that celibacy is not merely the lack of sexual actions I take. Being a celibate person of progressive sexual ethics is totally different than being a celibate person of traditional sexual ethics.

For one thing, progressive sexual ethics tend to look at celibacy as a layover; a time of self-discovery and healing between sexual relationships. When it is not viewed as a casual commitment, celibacy is viewed as a tool. For example, it allows room for career development or charitable work. I do not see celibacy that way. Celibacy doesn’t serve me, it completes me by furthering my worship of God. Being called, for me, is a lot like falling in love. That love is only getting stronger, deeper, and wiser. Traditional celibacy, and all the theology under the surface, has become something to which I want to commit. I want this celibacy to become ingrained on my heart and life.

Traditional celibacy flows from deeper theologies. One root of the traditional sexual ethic sees all human beings as icons, as living images of God, because we are. 1 Genesis tells us that we were created in the image of God, “Male and female He created them.” Christ was born into the world and became fully human while being fully divine. There is something sacred in the physical nature of humanness, even in our fallen state. Our bodies, our sexuality, are also sacred. Editing the sexual ethics handed down to us by the people who walked with and ate with Christ is like editing the Gospel. There are times it should be done (i.e. translation into new languages) but it should be done in unity with the rest of the Church and Tradition. The progressive sexual ethic may contain theology of the body’s sacredness, but it removes the teaching from the surrounding teachings that flow into it. It cuts that particular teaching off from the desert mothers and fathers and other early saints who lived it out, and it ends up contradicting them again and again.

When I was working in scientific research, I remember listening to professors speak about their areas of expertise, and thinking, “There is no replacement for decades of 80-hour-weeks working on something.” No matter how bright you are, no matter what important fragment of knowledge you uncover, you are no match for experience. You are no match for your elders, who have seen and participated in the battles for truth and understanding since before you were born. I am no match for the Church. My ideas matter, but only in the sense that a child must learn to add before she can learn calculus. At the same time, there are false teachings and teachers everywhere. Sometimes you don’t know you’re following a false teacher for too long, and sometimes you never find out. For me, the test is unity. Unity with the past, unity amongst the community, unity with something ineffable, unselfish, and all-loving.

I was recently blessed to read a few texts written by medieval nuns. They seemed to understand the word “virginity” as a goal to aspire to, not just a physical aspect of their bodies, but a grace for which they should fight. I was shocked at how widespread this concept of virginity was. In the religion in which I grew up, that was not the view of virginity. Virginity was state of inaction. If you transgress, you are worthless. They gave symbolic lessons meant to inspire deep disgust for the lack of physical virginity. Yet, for these medieval nuns, many of whom never indulged in physical sexual activity, virginity was something they had not yet achieved. There was no disgust for sexual activity–that was merely a path to holiness they were not following. This teaching is in total agreement with the Tradition of the early Church regarding sexual ethics, but the teachings about virginity in the faith I grew up in are not. If I apply the unity test, a sexual purity lesson comparing one group of human beings (those who have had sex) to chewed-up food fails miserably.

When I converted to Christianity, I did so in the most progressive denomination available, and I still miss that church family. I still go to funerals and weddings at that church. I still care deeply about their lives, and I still desperately want their approval, just like the disaster of a teenager who walked through their doors so many years ago. That Church was the first place I ever felt loved, that church taught me everything I know about compassion, that Church was where I learned to accept the existence of a loving God. I was sitting in that Church in prayer when I was first called to be a nun. For me, love couldn’t look like, “Just do whatever you want sweetie!” because I was in rough shape. My parents were abusive, and by middle school, I was leaving the house in the morning before they woke up, and coming home after they went to sleep. I was left to raise myself with absolutely minimal interference. Parenting meant providing a place to sleep, shower, and load up on food between days. “Just do whatever,” is neglect, and I was all too familiar with it. The good people of this progressive church knew that too. One time, a man I’ll describe as “my uncle,” chastised me for not wearing my coat on a cold day. It was the first time I was corrected in a loving manner by someone who was not a teacher. My uncle cared that I was cold, he cared about me more than I did, and he did something about it.

Most of the members of this church were from extremely traditional backgrounds, and I have always wondered, if their churches had done a better job of figuring out Christian formation for gay and lesbian people, would they have ever left? I know several of the ex-Roman Catholic nuns and priests would have stayed if they hadn’t been pushed out for merely being gay or lesbian. Many people in this church talked about their attempts to embrace celibacy and being rejected anyway, or because of a slip-up. The ex-gay ministries have poisoned the water of nearly every denomination with conservative sexual ethics, turning this beautiful concept of virginity as a grace of the Holy Spirit into the same legalistic shaming with which I grew up. The religion I grew up in has satanic and pagan leanings. I view any lessons that inspire shame or vanity as profoundly unChristian.

At the same time, I can’t help but see that the impact of “do whatever” theology is very similar. “Do whatever” distracts us from aspiring to the grace of virginity, from unity with the Church and with God, by turning our focus inward. This focus forces us to constantly discipline ourselves, and figure out, “What do I need?” on our own. I am still a child in comparison to the church, She is my mother, and I would never ask Her to neglect me the way my parents did in my teenage years. I expect Her to chastise me lovingly, like my uncle.

I don’t know where this leaves my gay and lesbian brothers and sisters who are not called to celibacy yet (sidenote: marital chastity, too, is a path to total chastity, just not yet). All I can say is, even with a lifetime of work, I am going to fall short of chastity as a grace of the Holy Spirit. Even as a celibate, there are elements of the Church who declare that I am a sinner merely because I will not lie about my sexual orientation. Despite many reformed whores among the saints, there are those who see my past transgressions, and desire to block my reception into the Church. The Church has room for improvement, and so do I. Maybe we should look at unity the same way the medieval nuns looked at virginity. It is a grace of the Holy Spirit, one we are working toward and haven’t yet achieved. Like chastity, it’s not a battle I’m willing to give up on.

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.

How to Live a Life of Celibacy While Missing the Point of Vocation

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Here at A Queer Calling, one of our main purposes is to help people establish a positive vision of celibacy as a vocation. However, our efforts do not organically change what is out there on the rest of the internet. A reader recently sent us a link to How to Live a Life of Celibacy, a wikiHow article with 38 contributors as of 20 May 2014. This link is the top hit if one googles “how to live a life of celibacy,” and it contains 20 tips/steps that are absolutely loaded with assumptions about what a celibate life entails. We earnestly wonder if any of the 38 authors have any lived experience with celibacy and are curious to know if they are trying to apply lessons they have learned while abstaining temporarily from sexual activity to living a life of committed celibacy. We’re going to quote each of these 20 steps and share our responses, snark and all, to this article’s assumptions.

1. Make sure this is something that you are very serious about. It can be a great thing if you are doing it for the right reasons.

So far, so good. We agree entirely. Celibacy is a life marked by a commitment. It’s helpful to know why you are committing to a celibate vocation, and to develop a positive sense of what celibacy can mean for your life. We’d even go so far to say that if you’re committing to living celibately because your spiritual director has told you that failing to live a celibate life will send you straight to hell, it’s best to challenge the celibacy mandate.

2. Find a friend or mentor that has gone through this period in life and ask questions about his or her reason for making their choice.

Again, this counsel is extremely helpful. Lindsey has highlighted the importance of finding people living a celibate vocation in a post, Actively Cultivating a Celibate Vocation.

3. Avoid listening to others’ feelings about your decision, if they do not agree with yours. It is your choice, and yours alone. Instead, talk to friends and people who will not judge you, or this choice you have made.

Generally, sound advice. When someone makes a committed decision on any matter that other people might not understand, he or she has to choose whose counsel to embrace. This counsel is not uniquely tied to cultivating a celibate vocation. Indeed, it is often helpful to hear out close friends when discerning any vocation because they can often see into one’s blind spots. Friends can be great barometers in helping a person discern a vibrant, life-giving, and connected celibate vocation.

The rest of this article offers what is arguably some of the worst counsel that we’ve heard when it comes to cultivating celibate vocations. So, for the rest of our post…snark alert!

4. Get involved involved in different hobbies; better not to be around many people you may be sexually attracted to for a while if this can be avoided. You could become involved with some more spiritual or personal activities instead.

If someone makes you dizzy with attractions, the obvious solution is just stay extra busy. Why not? Avoidance works for all of life’s challenges, right? According to this article, It’s possible to run, run, run, run, and still do more running, fear all kinds of relationships, and embrace a white-knuckled disconnection and aloofness that can suck the life force out of even the most introverted people, yet still discover a sustainable manner of living. Really, wikiHow?

5. Try to find people who you think will understand you and your choices. Doing this alone can be very challenging. Tell them you need some moral support.

A moment of seriousness: we agree that living a celibate vocation can be hard. (Living a marital vocation is hard as well.) We do our best to foster a community space where people interested in celibacy can find support because we have benefited significantly from the friend support we have received. It can be helpful to reach out to friends and mutually discuss the discernment process often. All Christians should be in the process of regularly seeking God to discern direction for their lives.

6. Avoid temptation, especially at the start of this lifestyle. Do not put yourself in situations that might lead to sexual activity, such as close quarters with someone to whom you are sexually attracted. Don’t spend time alone and secluded together unless you absolutely know that you can control yourself in that situation. You can still be intimate and close with them, as long as you are in control. (it also helps for them to know of your statutes with this lifestyle)

Surely, every celibate person is likely to crave sexual encounters and reach out for them whenever any opportunities arise. Uh huh. *Eyeroll.* We’ve seen the counsel contained in Tip #6 mirrored in spiritual direction when the spiritual director cautions an LGBT person about the slippery slope towards illicit activities. To be sure, if a person is committing to celibacy after extensive sexual involvement, it might do that individual well to consider what habits might need to change. However, that’s a different kind of message than simply, “Control thyself.”

7. It is a fact that after a certain amount of time, that if you do not remind yourself of what you are missing sexually, you will stop feeling strong urges. However, this can be hard if you are regularly engaging in watching social entertainment like movies, TV shows, and many advertisements and commercials that continually show hormonally and/or sexually led relationships. Learn to ignore these; they are society’s standards, not yours.

So, a celibate person should hide himself or herself in a hole because we live in a sex-saturated culture. Sexuality is merely an appetite that can be starved into submission…except, it’s not. In truth, human sexuality brings us into all sorts of different relationships with others and colors how we perceive the world around us. There is beauty and connection in so many places. It is right to say that world does not typically have a positive view of vocation, especially when vocation calls us towards sacrificial love. Both celibate and marital vocations call people towards this sacrificial love, even if this love manifests in slightly different ways.

8. For the most part, continue to keep anything about sexual romance or hormone induced relationships away from your vision. Make a list of all you have wanted to do. You do not have a mate holding you back, so take that trip or write that novel.

Let’s merge the “Hide in a hole” strategy from Tip #7 with the “Keep extra busy” strategy from Tip #4. Honestly, how does labeling the romantic attachments of others as “hormone induced relationships” do anything for cultivating deep and meaningful non-sexual relationships with people? Positioning yourself as Superman focused on building your resume will only bring you so far before you absolutely, positively, completely hit burnout. And when your human frailty catches up to you, you’re likely to find no one around you because they got tired of your always looking down on them and their ways of life. “Tip” #8 is, universally, a bad idea.

9. Doing things alone will help you to grow and challenge yourself on why you wanted to be celibate in the first place. Self empowerment is a powerful thing when used humbly.

Because celibacy necessarily means relegating oneself to the life of a hermit. Somehow, not having sex and discerning a way of life as an unmarried person means doing many things, or everything, alone. It seems the contributor of Tip #9 was thinking more along the lines of “how to accept the realities of being lonely” than “how to live a life of celibacy.” And, “Self-empowerment is a powerful thing when used humbly.” What’s that supposed to mean? Empower yourself, but only do it in a humble way?

10. If religion is part of your decision to be celibate, read the Bible or other religious book for guidance and strength. Turn to your Priest or religious community in times of weakness and need.

Uhm…if a person has decided to become celibate for religious reasons, it seems likely that he or she is already reading his or her holy text for guidance and strength in addition to receiving some sort of guidance (helpful or not) from a religious leader or member of a faith community. This isn’t bad advice, but it’s basically the same as telling a student, “If passing the course is part of your decision to take it, study the textbook and meet with the professor in times of confusion.” Is it really so difficult to figure this one out?

11. Celibacy can be practiced in a relationship, if both are in agreement.

We agree with this one. No sarcasm here. However, living celibacy within the context of a partnered relationship is not as simple as Tip #11 makes it sound. Trying to develop a sense of celibate vocation as a couple takes much more than “agreement.” Sometimes, both partners can be in agreement about celibacy and the relationship can still fail. Even if the relationship is working out well for both partners, certain aspects of a celibate vocation might not come naturally. Being committed to a celibate partnership takes dedication, tenacity, and willingness to work out the difficult parts as they arise.

12. You can then both be each other’s strength, and learn something together such as an instrument which will keep the mind busy.

Seems we cut the sarcasm a bit too soon. Of course, this is what our life together as a celibate couple looks like. We spend every day finding new, random hobbies to practice together and mutually increasing our strength to avoid letting our minds and hands wander in the direction of each other’s genitals. Piano and tambourine all the way! *Massive eye roll.* We have to ask, if a celibate partnership is supposed to be so focused on “keeping the mind busy” and presumably distracting each other from having sex with each other, what is the purpose of living in such an arrangement? If it’s all about avoiding temptation, wouldn’t it be easier not to have a partner? The suggestion that celibate partnership is valuable because it can keep both people’s minds out of the gutter is absolutely ludicrous.

13. The joy of learning and focusing more into engaging in other activities of life will help you to occupy your mind. It will also tire you out and make you sleep well.

Because a celibate vocation is all about distracting oneself from anything and everything that could possibly lead to sex. And by the way, sexually active people don’t experience the joy of learning and have the worst cases of insomnia. Had no idea. Next, please…

14. Celibacy is said to be a great way to improve mental powers and concentration.

Maybe if we commit to celibacy for the rest of our lives and do it the “right” way according to this article, one day we’ll wake up with telekinetic powers like Matilda.  Or better yet, we’ll discover our hidden abilities at levitating feathers, speaking parseltongue, and blowing up our annoying relatives. We’ve been celibate for a good while now…where are our Hogwarts letters?

15. Celibacy allows a romantic relationship to grow and develop tenderness, maturity, and self-giving. True love takes a long time, and staying away from sex makes a relationship more stable, not less. A man is impressed by a woman’s sweet and gentle “No,” if he has pushed her. It increases his respect and trust in her. It makes him want to be a better man, even if he’s been a player in the past. The delightful erotic tension is the beginning of legendary love stories that make for good marriages.

Wait a minute…is this article on the topic of “how to live a life of celibacy,” or is it more about, “why it’s better to be sexually abstinent until marriage”? Seems counterproductive to be talking about the value of erotic tension and preparing for an eventual marriage if the whole point of this piece is to advise folks on living lives of celibacy.

16. Understand why you want to take this vow before you do so. There are many reasons why people take this vow. The most common is to avoid sexually transmitted diseases, and to engage in intense studies as celibacy frees an enormous amount of time from your schedule. It will save you some money too, especially on a student budget.

Yep. Every day, we hear the stories of vowed celibates proclaiming, “Now I don’t have to get those embarrassing STD tests anymore, and I’m smarter and richer to boot. Celibacy is the best thing since sliced bread!” Not so much.

17. Meditate on this decision and do not be rash about it. This is a lifelong commitment you are about to make.

<Temporary snark break> Great advice, Tip #17. By the way, this applies to a marriage commitment as well.

18. Be sure to tell everyone around you that you are taking a vow of celibacy. It is very important to tell those who are closest to you about your decision and convince them to support you every step of the way.

And we’re back. This is exactly what we want to do. Shout it from the rooftops: “We aren’t having sex! If you don’t support us, you really should!” Such an approach is sure to go a long way with making us more welcome among people in our Christian tradition who remain skeptical of our partnership.

19. Avoid temptation and concentrate on other important things. To keep up the commitment, go back to school, get a new hobby, or buy a pet. Keep yourself as busy as possible.

In case the main message of this article isn’t clear enough already, we’ll spell it out for you once again: the only way to remain celibate is to busy yourself to the point of exhaustion so you’ll not be at risk for dropping your pants every five seconds. Groan.

20. Always reassess your vows every four to six months to make sure that you want to continue to do this. If you have decided that you do not want to live this lifestyle anymore, go ahead and do what you desire.

Because vows aren’t real commitments, and most human beings are unable to live a particular vocation from more than four to six months. Why don’t we start offering the same advice to married couples? Let’s not try to encourage people to work out their salvation within their chosen vocations. Why not give up on celibacy at the first bump along the road? Heck, why not tell married people they should consider abandoning their spouses after the first significant conflicts of their married lives? It’s all about “what I want in the moment” anyway, right?

To find so many misconceptions about celibacy packed into a list of 20 tips/steps for living a celibate life strikes us as absurd, especially when said tip list is the very first hit when a person searches for “how to live a life of celibacy.” Presumably, this article was written because so many people were using this particular search term. (Sarah has some insight into this as Sarah once worked as a freelance content writer for similar sources–not wikiHow.) The likelihood that every person who takes to the internet to begin researching celibacy as a way of life for himself or herself sees this article first is disturbing and saddening.

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.

Celibacy as a “Layover”

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“Celibacy is a necessary holding pattern for many LGBT people who are recovering from their experiences in the ex-gay world. I’m okay with talking about this way of life with the understanding that it isn’t meant to be permanent. After you gain a few more years of life experience and become more comfortable in your identities, you’ll be able to appreciate celibacy as a stop along the way to full acceptance of yourselves as LGBT Christians.”

This isn’t an exact quote, but rather a summary of dozens of messages that regularly hit our inbox. In response to several posts we’ve written (like this one, this one, and this one), some readers have sent us messages such as the one above, and others have contacted us to request that we write on the particular misconception about celibacy implicit in these messages.

As we’ve participated in the broader LGBT Christian conversation over the years, we’ve noticed prevalence in the idea that celibacy is a “layover” along the journey to self- acceptance. Usually, this assumption will come up in discussion the very first time we even mention the c-word to folks who know we are part of the LGBT community. At this point, we’ve lost count of how many times we’ve been told some variation of: “One day, you’ll come to accept yourselves as you are and you’ll not have to be celibate anymore.” Because we and other LGBT celibates hear this message so often, we think it’s important to address it directly in a post. We believe this message is unhelpful and inappropriate for several reasons.

Before we speak to some of these specifically, we want to be clear in our acknowledgement that for some people, temporary celibacy is part of a longer process that culminates in the embrace of a progressive sexual ethic. The purpose of this post is not to deny that this experience exists or to make a judgment about LGBT people who have come to view celibacy as a “layover” rather than a permanent way of life. Our intention is to discuss the assumption that all LGBT celibates will eventually come to view celibacy in this way and move on to sexually active relationships.

Having said that, here are the top three reasons we see the “celibacy as layover” message as problematic:

It degrades singleness and various kinds of intimate relationships that are not sexual. As we’ve written about in other posts, many people see marriage and other types of sexual relationships as rites of passage from adolescence into adulthood. In some Christian circles, it almost seems that there is a marriage mandate: if you aren’t married, others believe that something must be wrong with you. Though we did not address this directly in our first post on marriage, while preparing for it we heard from people of all sexual orientations and gender identities who find this pressure to marry troubling. It seems to us that seeing LGBT self-acceptance as contingent upon openness to sexual activity is not much different from seeing a sexually active way of life as the only “normal” vocation for any person. Both messages place harmful limits on the diversity of human experience, and neither leaves room for the stories of people who find fulfillment and connectedness in monastic or lay celibate life.

It posits incorrectly that all LGBT celibates are celibate for the same reasons. One variety of life experience that debates on LGBT sexual ethics frequently ignore is that of the person who has chosen celibacy but not because of a belief that same-sex sexual activity is sinful. He or she might not feel well suited to a lifelong partnership. Perhaps he or she finds that emotionally intimate friendships and other relationships meet all his or her needs for companionship. The “celibacy as layover” message seeks to make these types of experiences into something pathological, finding internalized homophobia even if there is none. Additionally, it suggests that all LGBT celibates either experience self-hatred on a personal level or are blindly obedient to an institution that promotes contempt against the LGBT community. It leaves no space for the possibility that an LGBT person has given his or her full consent to living a celibate vocation and is answering a call from God.

It labels LGBT celibates as poor, unfortunate souls who need help to reach liberation through expression of sexuality. This is possibly the most upsetting aspect of the “celibacy as layover” message for an LGBT celibate who has chosen his or her vocation freely after significant prayer and reflection. It negates the entirety of a person’s process of coming to terms with his or her sexuality, assuming that there must be some element missing from that process if sexual activity does not become part of an LGBT person’s life. Though not always the case, we hear this notion most often from straight people. To us, that makes it even more troubling because the person offering the message is implying that he or she knows better than we do what is best for us. Every time we hear others’ opinions on how pitiful, deluded, and frightened we must be to have chosen celibacy and how much more liberated we would feel if we would just give in and have sex, we wonder about what “liberation” actually means to the person making these statements. In what sense is pressuring another human being to engage in a sexual relationship “liberating”?

The common thread amongst all uses of the “celibacy as layover” message as we’ve heard it is that it’s often posed as an affirming statement to help people integrate faith and sexuality. Once again, we do not wish to deny the experiences of LGBT people who have lived celibacy temporarily and have later adopted other ways of life. But it’s erroneous to suggest that all LGBT celibates will eventually engage in sexual activity or else spend the rest of our lives in misery. We wonder what other kinds of messages might be intended as affirming and helpful, but can actually be limiting, oppressive, or harmful to members of the LGBT community. If you have thoughts on this, please share in the comments.

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.

When Celibacy Fails

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Since the first week we began sharing our story as a celibate couple, numerous readers have extended us the privilege of listening to their own stories. We’ve heard from celibate and non-celibate LGBTs as well as straight people. Folks questioning their sexual orientations and gender identities have also written to us. Christians, Jews, Muslims, Hindus, and atheists have dropped us a line to express interest in the specific way we address LGBT Christian topics. One common topic request we’ve received from at least someone in each of these groups has been: how would you suggest that Christian traditions respond to LGBT people who have given their all to celibacy only to see it fail them?

This is one of the most challenging questions facing churches today as they grapple with how to welcome LGBT members as full participants in the Body of Christ while also remaining faithful to the Christian tradition. Before going any farther in this post, we’ll confess to you that we do not know the best and fullest answer to this question. Perhaps no Christian does. Perhaps only God does. We struggle with this issue, and we consider that a good thing. And we will go so far as to suggest that if you’re a Christian and aren’t finding this question difficult, you should be.

To explore this issue more deeply, it would be beneficial for Christians and Christian traditions as a whole to consider first another question: are we imposing sexual abstinence as an unfunded mandate with dire consequences for LGBT people who do not succeed? Especially as more people are coming to awareness of their sexual orientations and gender identities at younger ages, it is irresponsible and cruel for churches to repeat, “You can’t have sex!” and refuse to offer any additional support. In Matthew 23:4, Jesus admonishes his disciples and the multitude not to do as the scribes and Pharisees: “They tie up heavy burdens, hard to bear,and lay them on the shoulders of others; but they themselves are unwilling to lift a finger to move them.” This is exactly what many of today’s priests and pastors are doing: they attempt to force celibacy on the fifteen-year-old boy who has just realized that he might be gay, telling him that failing to be celibate will make him unwelcome at services and offering no counsel besides, “Choose to develop heterosexual desires. Don’t have close relationships with other boys. Until you’re starting to think about marriage, don’t have close relationships with girls either.”

In the eyes of many young people, the only two options in this situation are 1) force yourself to be sexually abstinent with no sense of future vocation or present support, or 2) don’t force yourself into a permanent state of abstinence, but simultaneously risk being excommunicated, barred from entering the church building, and/or kicked out of your parents’ house. It shouldn’t be surprising that with no other alternatives, numerous young LGBT Christians find themselves crushed by the pressure from priests, pastors, parents, and faith communities. Collectively, we’ve heard this type of story from hundreds of people, including friends we’ve known since long before our blogging adventure began. It’s not rare, and all Christian traditions imposing unfunded celibacy mandates should be shamed by its prevalence.

If you’re reading this as a straight Christian, think about your own experience of beginning to realize your sexuality at 13, 15, 18…whenever that was for you. How has your experience of your sexuality developed over time? How have you grown in your understanding of sexuality? How would you have felt if at that age, the only guidance the leader of your faith community had for you was, “You’re going to be celibate for life. You have to be. That’s what the Bible says. End of discussion”? We’re not anticipating that every straight person would have the same responses to these questions. Likewise, no two LGBT people have the exact same responses to discussions of sexuality and celibacy.

It is not fair to assume that all LGBT Christians who are genuinely committed to Christ and the Church will respond positively to the demands of a celibate vocation. A reality that many Christians have trouble reconciling is that not all LGBT celibates experience this way of life as emotionally and physically bearable, let alone joyous. However, there are people who remain just as dedicated to living celibacy no matter what pain it brings. When we share our perception of the celibate life as a blessing and a gift, that is our story—not a normative expectation that can be applied to all LGBT celibates. The not-having-sex part of a celibate vocation is more challenging for some than it is for others, and no, we don’t have a catchall answer as to why that is. For the purposes of this post, that question might not even be relevant. Nonetheless, we know that for some of our friends who have chosen to pursue celibacy, remaining sexually abstinent is an enormous burden. At times, it becomes impossible to bear.

Just as we’ve heard stories of folks who have known and delighted in the realization that God has been calling them to celibacy since age 7, we’ve also listened to painful cries of, “I’ve failed again, and I don’t know how I’m going to get through the rest of this day.” We’ve also experienced our own failures at living fully into celibate vocations. In the recent past, we discussed the fragility of vocation—that all vocations are challenging and must be nurtured in order to succeed. An experience of failure does not mean that one has completely failed at a celibate vocation. Churches that expect celibacy of their LGBT members would do well to recognize that, and to acknowledge the variety of ways celibates experience celibacy—even if it means discovering that straight Christians don’t fully understand what they’re asking of their LGBT brothers and sisters.

There are experiences of celibacy that it seems few people in conservative churches are willing to consider without immediately trying to diagnose. These stories lie at the heart of our question for today: what about people who have made every possible effort to live celibacy and have become emotionally, spiritually, even physically unable to continue? Straight Christians (and even some celibate LGBT Christians) can be quick to assume that something must be wrong with a person who has lived this experience. People begin to make guesses about what went awry: did she lose her faith? Was she slacking in her prayer and fasting disciplines? Did she let herself become envious of other people in sexually active relationships? She couldn’t have been living celibacy correctly if this happened. These speculations show a lack of empathy and a general lack of Christian charity. When a person becomes unable to continue in celibacy during a certain season of life, that doesn’t mean the vocation of celibacy has failed the person, but also doesn’t necessarily mean the person “did celibacy wrong.” One could make a comparison here with situations in which marriages fall apart. Divorce is never an ideal outcome of the vocation of marriage, but because we live in a fallen world it is sometimes necessary. Still, that doesn’t mean the person whose marriage failed because of his wife’s infidelity and inability to acknowledge her own sin “did marriage wrong.”

Until churches begin to acknowledge that the issue of celibacy is not as simple as “Don’t have sex, or else…” LGBT Christians will continue to suffer needlessly, and as a result the entire Body of Christ will suffer. As a Church, we need to be more open to holding these difficult conversations and stop passing down unfunded mandates with potential consequences that leave honest, humble, faithful (though often scrupulous) people terrified to darken the doorways on Sunday morning. Would it be at all possible for conservative churches to make some accommodation for people who, after hundreds of attempts, have been unable to live celibate vocations? Would it serve the state of a person’s soul to be in one committed, sexually active relationship for a lifetime if the only realistic alternative would be falling to the temptation of a hookup once a month while earnestly trying to live celibacy? Does a traditional sexual ethic leave any space for the possibility that not everyone pursuing celibacy feels called to it, or that sometimes vocations fail even when people do everything possible to nurture them? We don’t pretend to know the answers to these questions. But back to the more general query at the beginning of this post: how would we suggest that Christian traditions respond to LGBT people who have given their all to celibacy only to see it fail them? The only answer we know to give is: respond with a heart full of compassion.

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4 Reasons We Abstain from the “Is Gay Sex a Sin?” Debate

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Within the few days before officially launching A Queer Calling in January 2014, we had many impassioned conversations about our vision for this writing project. We started writing in the first place because after we led a workshop titled “Celibacy Involves Family” at the annual Gay Christian Network Conference, several attendees approached us to inquire more about celibacy, celibate partnership, and ways we see ourselves growing in love for Christ through the joys and challenges of doing life together. These folks, some who have known and supported us for years and others who quickly became new friends, were the inspiration for our blog. Our initial concept, which we have generally maintained, was to post regular reflections on topics relevant to celibates, people interested in celibacy, and the more general conversation about Christianity and the LGBT community. We both have strong personalities and enjoy vigorous discussion, so we haven’t always agreed on how to approach certain topics. But one area where the two of us have always agreed heartily is our commitment to abstain from what many know as the Side A vs. Side B debate. If you don’t know what those terms mean, read this before continuing with our post for today.

As a result of our decision not to participate in discussions of, “Is same-sex sexual activity sinful?” and “Does God bless sexually active same-sex relationships?” we’ve been met with cynicism from people across the moral spectrum on these issues. On a typical day of blogging, we hear from “Side A” folks concerned that we’re trying to lure sexually active LGBT people into celibacy through false pretenses and from “Side B” folks ready to tell us that our contribution to this discussion means nothing unless we decide to start making pronouncements about the sinfulness of gay sex. Those remarks notwithstanding, we remain committed as ever to the original purpose of A Queer Calling, and we sense now more strongly than ever before the need for a space to discuss LGBT celibacy outside the Side A vs. Side B dichotomy.

As we’ve written in other posts such as this one, this one, and this one, both of us came to celibacy because we felt the Holy Spirit pulling us toward celibate vocations. Before meeting each other, we explored monastic life and we both felt deeply convicted that God was calling us to live our vocations within the secular world. Though we belong to a Christian tradition that teaches a conservative sexual ethic and do our best to allow ourselves to be formed in the wisdom of the Church, neither of us decided to pursue celibacy because of a desire to avoid sin. More often than not, telling people this leaves them scratching their heads. We get follow-up questions like, “Does that mean you don’t think same-sex sexual activity is a sin? Isn’t that against the teachings of your church? Why in the world did you choose celibacy if that choice wasn’t motivated by fear of falling into sin?” We’ve also been told by straight Christians within our own faith tradition and other members of the celibate LGBT community that we would find more support for our relationship and our writing project if we would simply make a habit of affirming the rightness of a traditional sexual ethic (and consequently, the wrongness of a progressive sexual ethic). Some have been especially forceful in advising us to point each piece of writing we do back to the central theme of “gay sex is a sin, and celibacy is better,” pointing out that otherwise, conservative Christians might not listen to us as all. They’re probably right about these things. It’s likely we would find more of an audience if we started writing apologetics for our tradition’s teachings instead of reflections on our personal experiences of celibacy and being LGBT in the Church. So why don’t we do that? There are many reasons, but today we’ll open discussion on these four:

1. Christian traditions with teachings on sexual morality generally make those teachings clear. Additionally, other LGBT celibates have already written apologetics for their traditions’ teachings on sexual morality. There’s no gaping hole to be filled here. It’s no secret what conservative denominations teach about gay sex. One need only perform a Google search for “Christianity and LGBT people” to see this. We’ve yet to come across a person who is truly confused about what a given Christian tradition teaches on sexual morality, unless the tradition in question is experiencing a theological change in its previous position. We believe that continually reiterating what our own Christian tradition teaches on these matters (especially because we have chosen not to reveal what our tradition is) would add nothing new or edifying to the discussion of LGBT Christians and our inclusion within the Church. Even before we both converted to our current Christian tradition, we were well aware of its teachings on human sexuality. No one had to tell us. Yet to this day, we experience reminders being shoved down our throats at every turn. We find this not only unhelpful, but also presumptive and alienating. On our blog, we want to foster an atmosphere of radical hospitality. If we feel muzzled and condescended to when other people continuously remind us of their Christian traditions’ already obvious teachings on human sexuality, we have no excuse for doing the same thing to our readers.

2. Limiting discussions of LGBT celibacy to “gay sex is a sin” misses an opportunity for perfect love to cast out fear. When a person focuses solely on avoiding sin, it seems natural that he or she would experience significant worry and fear. A person who focuses on sin as the primary reason for pursuing celibacy might become so terrified of the possibility of committing sin that he or she ceases to delight in many of life’s experiences—every moment of connection with another person is seen as a liability because within in moments it could turn into an occasion of sin. He or she might also begin to focus on people-pleasing: what others perceive as scandalous can reach paramount importance within the person’s life, even if those “scandalous” things are truly innocent and there’s no clear reason why others should point fingers. None of this is purely hypothetical. What we’ve just described has happened to other LGBT people we’ve known, and is very common for some LGBT celibates. Avoidance of sin is an important part of the Christian life, and we would never deny that. We’re not saying that discussions of sin are bad. But when an extreme focus on sin prevents a person from being able to recognize God’s love and exist in healthy relationships with other human beings, it’s a serious problem. A commitment to celibacy does not have to be fear-based, and we believe it’s most sustainable when not rooted in fear. 1 John 4:18 tells us, “There is no fear in love, but perfect love casts out fear; for fear has to do with punishment, and whoever fears has not reached perfection in love.” Here at A Queer Calling, we desire to create space for discussing how celibacy as a vocation can be an expression of love for God and openness to experiencing God’s love.

3. By focusing on the practical rather than apologetics and doctrines, we can meet people where they are and have conversations about real life. We can also learn from others as they meet us where we are. The way sexuality is often discussed in conservative churches has left innumerable LGBT Christians feeling as though they have no choice but to remain silent or leave the Church altogether. It’s not simply that “people don’t like to hear the truth about how sinful they are,” as has been suggested to us many times. In our experience, conservative churches in general do not make any attempt to meet LGBT parishioners where we’re at in life and provide spiritual direction from there. The sum total of guidance offered by these churches is usually, “If you’re gay, you can’t have sex. It’s a sin. Our denomination can never support same-sex sexual activity.” Some denominations still promote ex-gay ideologies. When an LGBT person chooses to remain in such a Christian tradition and pursue celibacy, he or she will likely experience social and spiritual consequences upon falling short of sexual abstinence. LGBT Christians already face far too many expectations of perfection with minimal room for forgiveness. We believe it would benefit both the LGBT community and the Church as a whole if straight Christians would make a better effort to meet LGBT people where we are and learn about the ways we experience life. This isn’t the same as saying, “We have no doctrine and anything you want to do is okay.” Rather than providing doctrinal reminders ad nauseum, we think a more helpful approach is to ask questions to understand people’s individual needs, challenges, fears, strengths, etc. Therefore, on our blog we also want to meet people where they are, and we hope our readers can do the same for us.

4. Shifting the conversation from “sin” to “vocation” creates space for discussing all vocations. We believe that every person has the capacity to love and glorify God through his or her vocation. We also believe that all of us fall short in our chosen vocations. There is much to be gained from engaging in broader conversation about this issue rather than limiting discussions of LGBT celibacy to, “Gay sex is a sin.” Both marriage and celibate vocations are ultimately about manifesting the kingdom of God. With that in common, all Christians can learn from each other’s successes and failures because we all have the same primary calling: to show others the good news of Christ. If we were to focus the conversation entirely on what is or is not sinful behavior for LGBT people, we would be promoting naval-gazing in the extreme. We would be placing a stumbling block for people who are trying to develop a sustainable manner of celibate living. On our blog, we have chosen to discuss celibacy as a vocation because we see it as intricately connected to other Christian vocations in God’s plan of salvation for humanity. It is our intent and purpose to make room for all interested folks to share/inquire openly about celibacy’s joys, sorrows, blessings, and challenges. We do not see how our entering the “Is gay sex a sin?’ debate would contribute anything to that goal.

Having said all this, we would like to close today’s post by clarifying that we do see the Side A and Side B discussion as important. In the past, the two of us benefited from engaging with arguments on both sides. We do not want to suggest that other LGBT celibates who write about sexual sin would be better served by avoiding this topic altogether. But as for our own writing project, we believe that God has called us to hold a different kind of conversation. The Internet (and the Church) has plenty of room for both.

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.