Tag Archives: vocation

Reflections on Discerning a Sexual Ethic

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A reflection by Lindsey

Lately, I’ve been receiving a lot of reminders that I’m getting older. I teach students who were born after 2000. I have passed my 10 year high school class reunion. Graduates of colleges next May will comprise the Class of 2015. I’m at the upper age limit for events geared towards young adults. If I’m getting my personal timeline right, I’ve been navigating my own journey of faith and sexuality for 17 years. I empathize with so many people just getting started on their own process and want to do what I can in order to help them along their ways. I have sat in a lot of uncomfortable “middle” seats between contrasting life ethics where I have been shoulder-to-shoulder with other people who think about these questions in different ways than I do. Along the road, I’ve developed a surprisingly profound respect for people who have a wide range of convictions.

It can be tricky to talk about how other people craft their personal sexual ethics. On one hand, convictions about sexual ethics are individual because of how deeply they inform a person’s manner of living his or her life. On the other hand, sexual ethics are necessarily communal because they draw us into relationships with one another. No one forms his or her sexual ethic in a vacuum. Equally, most consider it respectful to leave what happens in an adult’s bedroom a private matter. Many feel attacked when others express ethical convictions that run counter to their own ways of life. It doesn’t help when people with traditional sexual ethics absolutely reject the idea that progressive sexual ethics can have some kind of organizing logic. Similarly, meaningful conversation stalls when people with progressive sexual ethics deny that traditional sexual ethics have any potential to be life-giving. It seems to me that often, people on both sides rely on the exact same sources when trying to discern their convictions on sexual ethics.

When I first got started on my journey of reconciling faith and sexuality, I would have told you my convictions were rooted entirely in Scripture. Now, after 17 years of searching the Scriptures and trying to live in accordance with my ethical sensibilities, I see that things are a bit more complicated than “the Bible tells me so.”

If I were to ask my friends what Scriptures have the most substance in informing their sexual ethics, I would probably get a wide variety of answers. I’m sure I’ll shock some by saying that my sexual ethic has been shaped largely by Luke 10:

After this the Lord appointed seventy others and sent them on ahead of him in pairs to every town and place where he himself intended to go. He said to them, “The harvest is plentiful, but the laborers are few; therefore ask the Lord of the harvest to send out laborers into his harvest. Go on your way. See, I am sending you out like lambs into the midst of wolves. Carry no purse, no bag, no sandals; and greet no one on the road. Whatever house you enter, first say, ‘Peace to this house!’ And if anyone is there who shares in peace, your peace will rest on that person; but if not, it will return to you. Remain in the same house, eating and drinking whatever they provide, for the laborer deserves to be paid. Do not move about from house to house. Whenever you enter a town and its people welcome you, eat what is set before you; cure the sick who are there, and say to them, ‘The kingdom of God has come near to you.’

I have been reflecting on this particular bit of Scripture since 2003. It’s a huge part of the reason why I was even open to the idea of being in a celibate partnership with someone else. I can’t help but see vulnerability, radical hospitality, a shared spiritual life, and commitment running through this passage. I love this Gospel account precisely because it helps me pattern my way of life towards serving the world.

I’ve come to believe that a sexual ethic serves as a pattern for one’s life. As I see it, my sexual ethic informs how I interact with everyone I meet. I look to see how other people around me live into their vocations. I rejoice to be invited to attend weddings; I cannot help but note how Christian traditions have varied wedding customs. I have investigated the marriage service in my own tradition in an effort to understand how the prayers that bless a marriage provide a foundation for visioning the Kingdom of God in this vocation. I love looking for examples of faithful Christians throughout history; I never know who is going to inspire me to follow as closely to Christ as I can possibly manage.

But really, my point is that everyone draws upon a wealth of sources to develop their sexual ethics. Nearly every LGBT Christian I’ve ever met has wrestled with the Bible verses that specifically address homosexuality. Many see problems with proof-texting the Bible and try to discern the wider narrative arcs that describe marriage, sexuality, gender, and God’s love for everyone created in God’s image and likeness. I know others like me who embed particular passages of Scripture into their consciousness and ask for God’s grace to live these passages out. Because sexual ethics must be lived and embodied, questioning how particular sexual ethics are bearing fruit in one’s life is important. Also, it’s impossible to create one’s sexual ethic without considering the experiences of other people one knows.

I don’t know many people outside my own Christian tradition who study the marriage services in their Christian traditions to shape their personal sexual ethics. I have found doing so immensely helpful, and I would encourage any Christian in any denomination to consider this approach. At the same time, I can appreciate the experiences of people who would say, “My Christian tradition resolutely encourages two individuals to craft a customized wedding service. In my tradition, it seems like marriage means whatever two people want it to mean.” In such cases, I think Christian traditions ought to consider how they guide people towards discerning vocation. Learning how my Christian tradition prays for people on their wedding day has been so formative in my own journey. Speaking selfishly for a moment, I’d love a chance to compare notes with other people who have undertaken this kind of study in the context of their own Christian traditions.

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.

Calling or Conviction: “If it’s not about avoiding sin, does LGBT celibacy still matter?”

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Today, we are responding directly to a reader question that came after last week’s Saturday Symposium question:

“The tenor of your blog puzzles me more and more with every post. Not saying that’s bad. It’s just that everyone else who talks about this stuff does so while making an affirming or non-affirming argument. My question is do you think a celibate gay person’s commitment to celibacy matters if it doesn’t come along with a statement that gay sex is wrong? Is it good enough that a person feels called to celibacy, or does that call have to come from a place of conviction of sin in order for it to matter or have meaning?”

Before we get started on this one, we refer you to another post where we wrote about why  we choose not to engage in the “Is same-sex sexual activity sinful?” debate here on the blog. We recommend reading that one first before continuing with this post. The decision to frame our writing project outside this particular debate does not mean that we have no opinions on sexual ethics for LGBT Christians. It also doesn’t mean that we think the question is unimportant. It only means that here in this space, we are trying to have a different conversation. That said, we can proceed to addressing this reader’s question.

To begin with, if a person feels called to celibacy, it makes sense to discuss this calling in terms of vocation. Vocations enable people to manifest the Kingdom of God. They bring people into relationship with God, other humans, and the world as a whole. They call people to live more intentionally. Because of this, our initial response to reading this question was, “Why wouldn’t a person’s vocation matter?” We believe that regardless of a person’s reason for pursuing a particular vocation in the beginning, for the duration, or in the end, the choice to pursue it is significant. It means that a person has decided to follow God in a way of life that will help him or her to grow in holiness. Why would that not be important and meaningful, even if you don’t agree with that person’s reason for making the commitment?

It seems absurd to us that in the eyes of some, LGBT celibacy isn’t “valid” or “real” if a person offers, “I feel called” instead of, “I’m avoiding sin” as his/her reason for pursing celibacy. Rarely do we hear anyone apply the same standard to the vocation of marriage, even though within some Christian traditions one could make a biblical argument that avoidance of sin is the primary reason a person should choose to marry. In 1 Corinthians 7:9, St. Paul writes, “But if they cannot contain, let them marry: for it is better to marry than to burn.” It wouldn’t be terribly difficult to argue that based on this scripture, a person should marry if marrying is the only way he or she can avoid sexual sin, and other possible reasons for marrying are less meaningful. But nobody makes this argument. Or at least nobody we’ve ever met or read. We don’t hear this argument because most Christians across all denominations would find it ridiculous. Traditions like Catholicism, Orthodoxy, and some Protestant denominations have thorough, developed theologies of marriage that span far more than “better to marry than to burn.” Ask yourself, “Does marriage still matter if the married person entered this vocation because of a calling rather than a desire to avoid sin?” Ask a friend. In preparation for this post, we’ve asked several, and every one of them thought the question absurd.

Some who hold to a conservative sexual ethic might say at this point, “A personal calling is fine. Nothing wrong with that. But gay sex is still a sin, and if the celibate person doesn’t believe this, he/she holds a heterodox belief. Without orthodox belief, LGBT celibacy means nothing.” The problem with this statement is that Christianity involves both belief and practice. Believing in a certain sexual ethic is not a prerequisite for practicing celibacy. A person who holds to a belief that your tradition considers theologically unorthodox may very well be engaging in a practice that is orthodox according to your tradition’s teachings. One does not negate the other. You can hold that a person is wrong about a theological issue and still appreciate that person’s commitment to a vocation. Let’s assume for a moment that you belong to a Christian tradition that considers use of contraception a sin. Would you say that a married couple’s marriage is meaningless if that couple isn’t using contraception, but disagrees with the teaching that doing so would be sinful?

This isn’t exactly the same as our reader’s question, but we believe it is related: an argument we hear from some Christians with a liberal sexual ethic goes something like, “No LGBT person can choose celibacy freely unless his/her Christian tradition also affirms gay marriage. If the celibate LGBT person belongs to a non-affirming tradition, a sense of calling doesn’t matter. If all vocation options aren’t open, the choice to pursue celibacy — the only option — is meaningless.” We do believe that people should be able to discover their vocations rather than experience vocation as a mandate. However, we are also aware that this belief is influenced by our modern context. Anyone who has basic familiarity with Church history should know that for the first several centuries of Christianity, most people had very little personal choice in the matter of whether they would marry or live as celibates. To say that celibacy doesn’t matter if it’s the only choice available is to declare that thousands of people’s life experiences were meaningless. To those making this argument we ask: are you willing to suggest that there was no meaning to the celibate life of Hildegard of Bingen because her parents — not she herself — decided that she would become a nun? Are you willing to assert that because Hildegard didn’t choose her own way of life, she never experienced a sense of call to monasticism?

Along with this, we think it’s important to point out that people’s understandings of theology and personal calling usually develop over time. As children of the Church, we will grow and change. No one can answer every question about his or her vocation immediately after deciding to follow Christ. We don’t expect people to know everything there is to know about the Bible, Church history, or practices of Christian worship. Relative to marriage, we think most people would find it unreasonable to assert that newlyweds know everything there is to know about marriage. Some of our closest friends have told us that they were married for over five years before starting to have any degree of appreciation for what it meant for them to be married. A novice entering a monastery is hoping to discern what monastic life has to offer him or her. Beginnings of one’s vocation can be an especially spiritually fruitful time as one notes the sparks of “first love” for a particular way of life. In our own lives, we have embraced the process of maturing towards celibacy. We have begun to see our vocation’s first fruits as we have journeyed together, and we look forward to how God will continue to guide and direct our steps. All stories of vocation have meaning precisely because they dramatize how God has walked with particular people throughout their lives.

We sincerely appreciate our reader’s question. This question dovetails into existing conversations about LGBT Christian sexual ethics. Privileging the discussion of whether same-sex sexual activity is sinful can prevent Christians from seeing the practical questions around discerning vocations, and this happens quite often in discussions about LGBT issues. We consider it distressing that due to where the conversation is currently, “Does vocation have any meaning?” is actually reasonable question. When we begin talking more broadly about vocation, we can also talk about how LGBT Christians image the Kingdom of God in our midst. We believe it especially important for people who hold a traditional sexual ethic to focus on the positives of vocation rather than the negatives of trying to stay on the “right” side of the line that separates the “good” gays from the “bad” gays.

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.

Ask Yourself These Questions Before Entering a Celibate Relationship

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As you can probably imagine, many people ask us for advice about celibate relationships, how realistic that concept is, and how to make such a relationship work. Several people can be frustrated by our typical reply: we don’t think we’re very good at giving advice. However when enough people ask us the same question, we think we ought to address it to the best of our ability. We know a fair number of people who are living in celibate partnerships, have moved from celibate relationships to non-celibate relationships, or have experienced failed celibate relationships. Newcomers to our blog often ask us if we think celibate partnerships could be a viable vocational option for LGBT Christians more broadly. In responding to that question, we have to keep in mind that we’ve seen so many people hurt within celibate partnerships. That this happens (and probably quite often) doesn’t surprise us. There’s no real guidance from any Christian tradition on what this way of life might mean or look like.

In our own lives, we’ve learned that reflecting on celibacy periodically helps us discern what God would have us do together. We wanted to share some of the questions we encourage others to consider when thinking about celibate partnership as a way of living out a vocation to celibacy. Since we do not consider ourselves capable of making judgments as to whether another person should enter a celibate partnership, we hope the questions that follow might support people discerning whether entering a celibate partnership is a good decision.

1. Is loneliness my primary motivation for seeking a celibate relationship? If the answer is yes, know that being in a relationship (celibate or not) with another person isn’t a cure-all for loneliness. Everyone feels lonely sometimes–even people who are in committed relationships. But if that’s why you’re seeking a celibate relationship, more than likely you’ll find that a significant other will not fill the void.

2. Do I have a strong sense of what my sexual ethic is? If the answer is no, it’s probably wise to take more time to discern your sexual ethic within the context of your Christian tradition before entering a celibate relationship. For any relationship to be healthy, it’s necessary that both partners can talk candidly about this topic, even if there are disagreements. You’ll need to know how committed the other person is to celibacy. If you’re entering an intentionally celibate relationship with a person whose sexual ethic differs from yours, it’s especially important to have your own sorted.

3. Have I come to a sense of peace and acceptance concerning my sexual orientation? We’re going to be blunter than usual with this one: if the answer is no, then you are certainly not ready to begin a celibate relationship. If you try, it is highly likely that you will both end up feeling miserable and the relationship will fail. We have seen this happen many times to people we know and love. We know what it’s like to have trouble accepting oneself as LGBT, and there’s no one-size-fits-all approach to finding peace and a sense of comfort within your own skin. But if you’re not there yet, please don’t commit to a celibate relationship at this time.

4. Do I have an idea of what celibacy might mean for me? It’s vital that a person who chooses celibacy explores the meaning of this state of life. Some people choose celibacy because they feel called by God. Others choose celibacy in obedience to their Christian traditions even though they don’t feel called. People choose celibacy for the short-term, for the long-term, and indefinitely. Every celibate person is different, but willingness to ask, “What does it mean for me?” is necessary for living a sustainable way of life whether single or coupled.

5. Am I willing to receive and accept spiritual counsel within my faith community regarding my way of life? This one can be particularly tough because most humans struggle with pride, and many LGBT people experience fear after negative past experiences of seeking spiritual guidance. However, it’s necessary to ask this question because we can’t always see clearly the areas of our lives where we are failing to be Christlike. This is especially true when undertaking roads less traveled, such as living a celibate vocation in the same household as another person. It’s okay that saying yes to this one is hard, but if you aren’t willing to do it you are probably setting yourself up for failure by entering a celibate relationship.

6. Do I understand celibate partnership as a loophole within a legalistic celibacy mandate? If you read our blog regularly, you know that we prefer to discuss LGBT celibacy in terms of vocation rather than in terms of mandates. Some LGBT celibates do view celibacy within the framework of a mandate and are comfortable with that. Either way you understand celibacy, it’s not a good idea enter a celibate relationship if you understand the decision as “barely on the right side of God’s law.” This understanding of celibate partnership will likely lead to unhealthy obsessions with line-drawing.

7. Is fear of being sexually active my primary motivation for seeking a celibate relationship? If a friend told us that he/she had chosen celibacy either temporarily or permanently because of fearing sexual relationships, we would gently encourage that friend to seek counseling. If that same friend mentioned thoughts of beginning a celibate relationship in order to avoid dealing with these fears permanently, we would do everything possible to discourage that decision. Fear of sexual intimacy is often linked to fear of other types of intimacy. Entering a celibate relationship will not shelter you from ever having to experience intimacy with someone else.

8. Am I seeking an arrangement that is effectively a same-sex marriage without the sex? It’s possible that there are some celibate couples who do view themselves as celibate marriages, or marriages minus sex. We’re not here to judge those people or those relationships. But the healthiest celibate partnerships we’ve known among our friends have been those that come from very different places than desire to imitate marriage. Controversial statement here: if you do view your celibate relationship as “marriage lite,” it’s unlikely that the relationship will remain celibate. Before entering a celibate relationship, consider how you might learn from monastics and singles as well as married people as you continue to discern your vocation.

9. Do I envision being part of a celibate relationship that is inwardly focused? If the answer is yes, you’re envisioning something quite different from a vocation. Any relationship that is totally focused on itself with no concern for the broader world will likely have difficulty manifesting the Kingdom of God. We believe that this is true for celibate partnerships, other ways of living celibacy, and marriages. If you’re interested in a relationship that involves romantic dates but no greater purpose than making each other happy, you’re missing the point of vocation entirely.

10. Am I willing to take both the good and the bad when it comes to doing life with another person if we decide to live our celibate vocations together long-term? Anytime people commit to living the rest of their lives together, there will be seasons of fast and seasons of famine–spiritually, financially, physically, emotionally, in every way. This is true for marriages, monastics, and other ways of doing life in community. If you’re seeking a long-term celibate partnership, you must have a willingness to be there for the other person even during difficult times. If you can’t do that, you’re probably not ready for a celibate partnership or any lifelong vocational commitment.

11. Am I prepared for the reality that I will make mistakes? If you think life as a celibate pair will be perfect, free from all sin, and ideal in every way, think again. You’re human. You will make mistakes. You will sin against others. If you’re in a celibate (or non-celibate) partnership, you will sin against your partner, yourself, and God at some point (and no, we are not necessarily talking about sexual sin here). If you cannot accept the fact that celibate partnerships aren’t sin-free, you are not ready to enter one.

We’ve found that many people are interested in exploring celibate relationships before they stop to consider their own motivations for desiring these kinds of arrangements. In our own lives together, we’ve realized that entering a celibate partnership and keeping the focus on celibacy takes considerable intentionality. It’s not impossible, but doing so involves commitment to prayerfulness, mutual support, and (sometimes brutal) honesty. We thought through all of our own questions before we decided to explore the possibility that we, as Sarah and Lindsey, would make a good team for the long haul. And we expect that there will be seasons of life in the future when we will need to return to our previous responses for further reflection.

The comments section is open, and we would love to hear your thoughts!

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.

Discerning Our Vocation as a Community of Two

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Recently, we have encountered some criticism about our way of life in other places of the internet. It has been suggested that our using words like “partner” and “family” indicates we are trying to mimic marriage as opposed to embracing an intentionally celibate vocation. According to these critics, because we frequently use the word “partner” to describe our relationship, we must have lustful desires towards one another and cannot not possibly be living chastely. (If you don’t have any idea what we’re talking about, our post entitled Clearing the Air on “When Celibacy Fails” can direct you a bit more specifically to one of the relevant blogs.)

We do understand how people might be confused about our use of the word “partner” in our relationship. We do describe ourselves as a celibate, LGBT, Christian couple. If you look to the way “partner” is used in the broader culture, you would rarely see the couple who is using that term living into a celibate vocation. We spend a lot of time talking about important conversations we’d like to have on the blog. For several months, we’ve been discussing that we could say more about how our understanding of our vocation has been significantly shaped by monasticism. It seems to us that this latest conversation about the word “partner” provides an excellent launching point for such a conversation.

From the beginning, we have been up front about our acknowledgement that we do not have all the answers. Sarah has shared about some of the difficulty we’ve had in finding a language to describe our shared life. Lindsey frequently says that when it comes to the exact nature of our vocation, we’re building the plane while flying it. Our Christian tradition does not have a well-developed understanding of lay celibacy, so we have tried to learn as much as we can about our vocation from both married couples and monastics. We regard ourselves as works in progress, and we hope that our readers can extend us charity as we sort through some of this muddle.

In Lindsey’s post on Actively Cultivating a Celibate Vocation, Lindsey highlighted the importance of getting to know people who are living celibacy. Even before we met one another, both of us devoted significant energies to meeting various vowed religious. We have read many accounts of monastics, traveled to various monasteries, and journeyed alongside others who have been discerning specific religious vocations that carry the expectation of celibacy.

One of the most important things we’ve noticed about monasteries is that no two monasteries are the same. Each monastery has its unique sense of community that affects how the members see themselves as a monastic family extending hospitality to others. Some monasteries have the capability of hosting a huge number of pilgrims at a time, and other monasteries will welcome a small handful of overnight guests. The guest quarters in the smallest monasteries we’ve visited amount to little more than a spare room in the house. At the risk of overgeneralizing a bit, visiting large monasteries can make one feel like one has entered another world while visiting small monasteries can leave one feeling remarkably impressed by the mundaneness of the everyday. Some of the larger monasteries seem to serve every liturgical service available in well-equipped chapels, while many of the smaller monasteries pray a basic set of morning and evening prayer on either side of the work day. We’ve even had the privilege of visiting monastics who live in urban areas and work full-time during the day in a way that aligns their professional gifts with the mission of the Church.

We hope it comes as no surprise to our readers that we have made a concerted effort to learn from these various small monastic communities about how we might pattern our lives as a community of two. Specifically, we have been drawn to the concept of a skete. Sketes are small monastic communities where two or three celibates live together. Because it’s rarely practical for a community of two or three to be completely self-sustaining, skete monastics frequently interact with more sizable monastic communities or with the world at large in order to support themselves. Skete monastics often choose very particular forms of ministry to do together and may describe themselves as partners in ministry. Like other monasteries, sketes exist because of a bishop’s blessing. Many large monasteries have a skete at their origins. It’s not terribly uncommon to see a small monastic community living as a skete entreating God to give the increase to their humble beginnings.

While we do not see ourselves as establishing an actual skete, we do try to pattern our lives significantly after what we have seen from skete monastics. We see ourselves as working hard to establish a sense of what lay celibacy in the world might look like, particularly when lived together as a pair. Specifically, we have a commitment to being an open book with our spiritual fathers about our life and ministry together. We earnestly desire to live into the fullness of our Christian tradition’s teachings, and we participate regularly in our local parish. Additionally, we regularly pray and discuss our shared ministry as a team of two (some might say “partnership”).

We have been living together for just over a year; it takes time to discern what work we should be giving ourselves to. We want God to guide our steps as we consider a multitude of ministry possibilities. We try to maintain a balanced rhythm in our life together. We have established dinner as a sacred time to share with one another. For example, it works best for us when Lindsey cooks and Sarah handles the after-dinner clean-up. We also try and balance the time we have together with time we spend in larger communities of one kind or another. We view our relationship as being principally oriented outward to serve the world, and we thank God for the ways we’ve found to use our ministry gifts that are unlocked by the presence of the other to love various people we have met.

There are certain monastics that stand out to us as we think about who has taught us about our vocation. Lindsey once stayed with a nun working in a local parish. This nun served as a critical backbone to her community, observing a daily cycle of morning and evening prayer. When she wasn’t in her chapel or attending to local services, she met regularly with students to offer spiritual direction. She carried forward the work she had begun with another nun, even after her partner in ministry was moved by the bishop to another city.

Sarah has never experienced more extravagant hospitality than was showcased by a hospice nurse who attended to Sarah’s grandmother. Sarah’s grandmother had reached the last few weeks of her life. This hospice nun absolutely lit up the room while providing palliative care to Sarah’s grandmother and getting to know everyone in Sarah’s family. Eleven-year-old Sarah had taken to making a fashion statement of wearing mismatched socks. The hospice nurse told the other nursing staff about Sarah’s self-expression and encouraged them to make a special cake in Sarah’s honor: the cake had two different colors of frosting, one on each side, much like Sarah’s socks. The nun made herself emotionally available to everyone in Sarah’s family during this difficult time. Nearly 18 years later, Sarah remembers this nun teaching that whenever a person or family experiences a time of significant distress, there needs to be someone else capable of giving his or her complete self in order to care for those ailing. Although it’s wonderful when people can give a little bit in those situations, the world needs people who can give everything by turning themselves fully outward to care for those who need it.

To be sure, we’re still working on embodying the virtues we see in monastics. A shared rule of prayer is one core attribute of monasticism we want God to open up to us more fully. Because our daily schedules are so variable, we struggle to discern a common prayer rule that we can keep together. Both of us keep individual rules of prayer, we have a disciplined practice of always blessing our food together, and we occasionally share times of spontaneous prayer. Nevertheless, we do hope that God will guide us towards a shared rule of prayer that we can keep together on a daily basis. Additionally, we regard vulnerability and hospitality as defining attributes of a celibate vocation. We frequently perceive ourselves as doing reasonably well in both of these areas, but we know that God still wants us to grow towards increasing vulnerability and hospitality. Lastly, although we believe strongly that God is calling us to a shared form of ministry, we know God is still telling us more about the work we are to do together. We don’t have everything figured out already–not by a long shot.

In conclusion, we are grateful for all of the ways God helps us to discern our vocation as a community of two, revealing to us more over time how he would have us serve the world as team of two and partners in ministry. We have learned so much from monastics, especially those who live in sketes. We are lay celibates living in the world, and as such we do not pretend for an instant that we embody monastic life fully. But we rejoice because each of our failures has given us room to grow towards Christ in ways we had never imagined.

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.

Phasing out Civil Unions for the Sake of Marriage Equality is a Bad Idea

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Last week, each of us independently posted an article from the Catholic Herald called “Don’t convert same-sex civil partnerships automatically into marriages, urge bishops” on our personal Facebook pages. Bishops in the UK are concerned that gay and lesbian Catholics who entered into civil partnerships in order to access legal protections will find themselves at odds with their faith tradition’s teachings on marriage if these partnerships are automatically converted into marriages without their consent. We thought the article from the UK context would generate a lot of interesting conversation because we both have diverse circles of friends with a wide range of views on sexual ethics and marriage equality. Upon seeing our friends’ responses, we were surprised by two things. 1) Very few of our American friends realized that some US states have already converted existing civil unions into marriages. 2) Many of our American friends with a more progressive sexual ethic were mystified as to why any LGBT couple would have a problem with their legal relationship being named a marriage. In today’s post, we want to highlight the reality that civil unions are being phased out while also discussing real concerns we have as a celibate, LGBT couple related to our various legal options.

In the United States, civil unions were once available in Connecticut, Rhode Island, Delaware, Vermont, and New Hampshire. Federal courts in those states have ruled that civil unions are a kind of “marriage lite” and violate equal protection. Therefore, the named states are in the process of phasing out civil unions entirely and some (e.g. Connecticut) are automatically converting or have already converted them into marriages. Civil unions are still available in some places: Colorado, New Jersey, Hawaii, and Illinois. However, we are concerned that it’s only a matter of time before civil unions become a relic of history rather than an available legal option.

We wish more Americans were talking about this issue. Why do we so readily accept marriage as the only viable legal pathway to gain certain rights and responsibilities to another significant person in your life? How is it that it is so easy to overlook the different kinds of people who benefited from the availability of civil unions? According to Cyril Ghosh of The Guardian:

“There are a number of good reasons why both heterosexual and homosexual couples may wish to enter into a civil union instead of a marriage. For example, for many couples, civil unions provide a secular alternative to marriage that aligns with their values. Some may not be ready for a commitment like “marriage” – a word that’s laden with history and tradition. Others may not wish to enter into a marriage contract because they believe the institution carries distinctly religious connotations. They may also see marriage as a patriarchal institution and be ideologically opposed to it. Finally, many couples that have been married and divorced may not be ready to marry again, even though they might want to codify their relationship with their current partners and lovers in some way.”

Civil unions also filled a void in elder care law by allowing widows and widowers legal pathways of supporting one another in various health care systems. It has been difficult for us to see civil unions as a unique concern of LGBT people. We know many who think that government should only be offering civil partnerships while letting various religious traditions retain control of the word “marriage,” and we’re mostly in agreement with that position. An oft-cited article from the New York Times highlights that as of 2010 in France where civil unions continue to be available, there are two civil unions for every three marriages. The vast majority of civil unions are amongst heterosexual people. Civil unions are slightly less popular in the Netherlands where there is one civil union for every eight marriages. Nonetheless, civil unions are thriving in these countries. They aren’t viewed as evidence of an oppressive “separate, but equal” system. They are important options for people who are willing to accept the responsibilities of being legally attached to another person, but do not, for whatever reason, want that relationship to be considered a marriage.

We should say at this point that it is not our intention to shame any of our friends and readers who have entered into same-sex marriages legally, religiously, or both. Today’s post is not meant as an argument against gay marriage, and if you’ve read many of our other posts you are likely aware that we believe all committed LGBT couples should be protected under the law and should be able to select the best available option for their particular situations and be informed by their faith traditions when making this decision. That said, we also believe it is important to ask ourselves whether the current progress of the marriage equality movement is in some ways hindering the freedoms of LGBT people who seek legal protection for their relationships, but do not want to enter into marriages.

From the beginning, we envisioned our relationship as something different from marriage. Part of this is influenced by the fact that we are part of a Christian tradition that teaches a traditional sexual ethic, and we strive to be obedient to all our tradition’s teachings. (If you’re thinking, “Why don’t you just go to a different church?” read this. We’ve already answered that question.) But the more significant reason is the conviction we share that God has called us in a very personal way to celibacy, and using the term “marriage” would introduce confusion regarding how we understand our celibate vocation. As we’ve stated in other posts, even in the unlikely event that our Christian tradition were to change its teachings on marriage and sexuality, we still wouldn’t be interested in getting married because we don’t see “marriage” as a fitting term for the ways we relate to each other. We don’t see our relationship as a romantic one. However, it is our wish to be considered each other’s next of kin in terms of health care, end of life, financial, housing, and other kinds of legal decisions, and an arrangement of the kind previously available through civil unions in some states would have met most (though not all) of our needs.

We’ve been counseled by friends to prepare certain types of legal documents (power of attorney, healthcare directives, wills, etc.) for ourselves, and we’re in the process of doing that. Still, those types of documents only go so far. They don’t solve other problems like access to retirement funds and access to assets (of which we currently have none, but hope to have someday) without a significant tax imposed when one of us reposes. They also don’t solve the problem that when Lindsey begins a new job this August, the health insurance policy offered by the job will require the two of us to be married in order for Sarah to access benefits. As Sarah–who experiences some significant health problems–does not receive health insurance through Sarah’s own job, and we’ve already had trouble trying to acquire it through the individual marketplace, this issue is particularly pressing. We’re not suggesting that civil unions are the panacea for all these issues, but we find it interesting that the message we keep hearing from everyone we contact for help is, “Why don’t you just get married???” The specifics of what a civil union does and does not provide for isn’t really the point here. It’s that phasing out civil unions narrows the conversation about how to make sure couples who can’t get married are protected.

Our own legal knowledge is very limited and perhaps an attorney can help us sort all these matters in one way or another. But it will likely be expensive, and many of our concerns would be resolved if, like other countries, the United States had some form of civil union in every state for both opposite-sex and same-sex couples. As things stand now with the marriage equality movement, it’s unlikely that civil unions will last much longer because they have become so strongly associated with inequality. If you’re wondering at this point, “Why don’t you go somewhere that performs civil unions and get one there?” the answer is simple. Civil unions are not recognized in all US states or internationally, and there’s no guarantee that eventually the civil unions currently being performed in Illinois, Hawaii, Colorado, and New Jersey will not be automatically converted into marriages at some point within the next few years. Where we live now, we do have the option of entering into a domestic partnership, but the rights associated with this legal relationship are minimal, and they are not recognized across state lines. We also have the option of legally marrying, but to do so would not only excommunicate us within our faith tradition but would also be an act of dishonesty since we do not understand our relationship as a marriage.

The most serious problem with phasing out civil unions and converting existing ones to marriages is that it forces all people within a particular state who desire a legally recognized relationship with their significant other to achieve that by getting married (with a domestic partnership option being available only in select places). We’re grateful for the strides that the marriage equality movement has made in terms of ending certain legally-sanctioned prejudices against LGBT people and couples, but at the same time we question the belief that “freedom to marry” means freedom for all members of the LGBT community. How is it freeing to know that the only option you have for full legal recognition is marriage when you don’t want your relationship referred to as such for religious or other reasons?

We’ve been told that we’re ungrateful to want a civil union considering how many people have struggled and fought for our right to marry each other. We’ve been asked, “Isn’t marriage good enough for you?” and we’ve even been told, “If you choose not to marry, any legal problems you face are of your own making.” All this from the same people who have claimed that American society before gay marriage showed no empathy or concern for the needs of LGBT couples. Please tell us, where is the empathy and concern for celibate LGBT couples, or do we not matter because many of us belong to conservative religious traditions? And what about all other groups of people who have benefited from the availability of civil unions? When fewer people could marry, more seemed to be interested in holding conversation about the needs of those who couldn’t marry. This dialogue included a diversity of concerns that reached beyond those of LGBT people wishing to marry their partners. How have we managed to forget that diverse needs require diverse legal options, and that marriage still leaves those needs unmet for many?

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