In The Relevance of the Stars, Msgr. Lorenzo Albacete recounts a story about Msgr. Luigi Giussani, which strikes at the heart of the modern sexual crisis,
One day, Giussani was walking around looking for a parking space, and he came upon two people making out in a car. He suddenly appeared in his cassock and said, “Hello.”
Well, you can imagine!
When they saw him, he said, “I hate to interrupt; I just have one question to ask you:
What you’re doing now, what does it have to do with the stars?”
“How absurd?” we might think. It seems a little pretentious, doesn’t it? These priests, bound by their vows to live in celibacy, posturing about how procreation relates to the cosmos! Sex is just…sex, isn’t it?
To our modern ears, Giussani sounds awkward, even intrusive. But his question is worth pondering precisely because we have reduced the sexual experience to a mere appetite. He asks whether sex means far more than we are willing to admit.
Origen would subscribe (maybe?)…
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But we have made sex small.
We have made sexual gratification private.
We have disconnected it from wonder.
We have detached sex from covenant, fruitfulness, and the soul’s upward movement into the heavens.
First, we degrade sex into something merely pleasurable. Then it becomes recreational rather than holy. Finally, it becomes utilitarian rather than transcendental. In its utility, the object of sex, the body, becomes a thing to consume rather than a person to cherish. Degradation becomes a kink.
The obsession. The fetish. That overwhelming curiosity that promises ultimate fulfillment, but when gained, only drives the soul deeper into lust. Rather than leaving the sexual experience with a smile, the end thereof is guilt and shame.
“It’s just sex.”
“No strings attached.”
“As long as we both agree, that’s all that matters.”
“Porn? Everyone does it.”
Our culture speaks of sex only in the language of appetite and consent. We have so over-therapized sexuality that it has lost its meaning and glory. It has become nothing more than what “I” think of it. And has this understanding of sexuality truly left people feeling liberated and happy?
All the while, we scoff at “romantics” like Giussani while we roll around in the gutter of modern sexuality, flailing in our discomfort. If we deeply considered Giussani’s words, we would have to deal with an uncomfortable truth: that sex means more than we dare admit and that our culture fails to realize an ounce of its potential beauty.
There must be more.
What does sex have to do with the stars?
Some of the Ancients, especially the Platonists, would have agreed with Giussani that sexual love (eros) should reach beyond pleasure to contemplate the transcendental. Plato defends eros in the Symposium as a first step towards discovering divine beauty,
“[H]uman nature can find no better workmate for acquiring [the divine Beauty] than Love. That’s why I say that every man must honor Love, why I honor the rites of Love myself and practice them with special diligence, and why I commend them to others. Now and always I praise the power and courage of Love so far as I am able. Consider this speech, then, Phaedrus, if you wish, a speech in praise of Love.”
To Plato, eros is the first step on a stairway to that ultimate Beauty—divine, pure, and eternal. The erotic love for another, to Plato, is a recognition of that person’s beauty. As he indulges in that beauty, he discovers something yet more beautiful: the person’s soul. And in his love for the soul and for the sake of that beauty, he learns beautiful things, beautiful customs, and lessons. And as he continues deeper into this upward spiral of beauty, he finds Beauty itself, that to which eros ultimately points, what Christians would call God.
That’s why sex, even disordered sex, bears unwilling witness to God because it longs for beauty and union, however distorted those desires may be. But in such cases when desire is twisted by selfishness, the enjoyment of beauty is profaned.
That is why “no strings attached” or the term “casual sex” are false. All sex is serious. All sex is bound by transcendental chains.
This is also why sex that only sees pleasure as its end is also misguided. The gratification of sexual desire as an end in itself neglects the beauty of the other. It bypasses virtue and sees in the other only a resource to be consumed. Plutarch notes,
For love that is bred in a young and truly generous heart, by means of friendship, terminates in virtue.
On the other hand, Plutarch recounts Aristippus’ reply to someone who tried to cure him of his infatuation. After being told that she did not love him, Aristippus answered,
Pure wine or good fish do not love me either, and yet I willingly enjoy both. For the end of desire is pleasure and enjoyment.
Plutarch continues,
But love, having once lost the hopes of friendship, will neither tarry, nor cherish for beauty’s sake that which is irksome, though never so gaudy in the flower of youth, if it bring not forth the fruit of a disposition propense to friendship and virtue.”
What the Pagans sought in the dark, Christianity brought to the light
While the ancient philosophers made many mistakes as they stumbled toward the truth, they did grasp something real about eros and beauty, though only dimly. Christianity brought to light what they could only stumble towards in the dark.
For the Church, love is not merely an emotion or appetite, and though it can include eros, it extends far beyond sexual longing. Nor is love a useful tool. It is not a means of utility. No, love is the telos of all reality, “God is love, and whoever abides in love abides in God, and God abides in him.” Or as St. Clement of Rome wrote,
The binding power of the love of God—who is able to set it forth? The radiance of His beauty—who can voice it to satisfaction? The sublimity to which love leads up is unutterable. Love unites us with God…. Apart from love nothing is pleasing to God…. Because of the love which He felt for us, Jesus Christ Our Lord gave His Blood for us by the will of God, His body for our bodies, and His soul for our souls.
How easy it is for us, in our sinful concupiscence, to worship the creation over the Creator! To see the beauty of the other, to well up with forceful desire, and to forget that the one standing before us is made in the image of God. We rob the beauty for ourselves, rather than see in the other God himself, the ultimate fulfillment of all our desires. Our ultimate pleasure can only be found in him and him alone.
Late have I loved you, Beauty so ancient and so new,late have I loved you!Lo, you were within,but I outside, seeking there for you,and upon the shapely things you have made I rushed headlong,I, misshapen.You were with me, but I was not with you.They held me back far from you,those things which would have no beingwere they not in you.You called, shouted, broke through my deafness;you flared, blazed, banished my blindness;you lavished your fragrance, I gasped, and now I pant for you;I tasted you, and I hunger and thirst;you touched me, and I burned for your peace.
— St. Augustine
Can our God, who created us, not please us? Is he not the one who has made us male and female? Did not God tell us to be fruitful and multiply? Did he not command us to “rejoice in the wife of your youth, a lovely deer, a graceful doe. Let her breasts fill you at all times with delight; be intoxicated always in her love.”? Was it not the lover of God’s anointed king who wrote, “My beloved has gone down to his garden to the beds of spices, to graze in the gardens and to gather lilies. I am my beloved’s and my beloved is mine; he grazes among the lilies.”?
True pleasure is found in God alone. We can experience that pleasure in this world when we see God through his creation, rather than his creation as the ultimate good. Sex is beautiful because in it, we can experience the mystery of God’s love. Sex is pleasurable not merely because it is sex, but because in it, rightly received, God means to draw us toward the goodness that has its source in him. Reducing sex to pleasure inevitably makes sex less pleasurable.
What does sex have to do with the stars?
Therefore a man shall leave his father and mother and hold fast to his wife, and the two shall become one flesh. This mystery is profound, and I am saying that it refers to Christ and the church.
— Ephesians 5:31-32
This is the great Christian premise behind sex. Marriage, sex, the two becoming one flesh—the union of husband and wife is the holy sign of Christ’s love for his bride.
Disordered forms of sex are not wrong because they are sex, but because they deform a good thing. Sex, by its nature, is good. Its corruption does not make sex vile but desecrates it. The corruption of sex blunts its wonder, dims its glory, and mars the image it was meant to bear. And because it leads away from God, it leads away from human flourishing.
It is a sin to stomp on a rose. The rose is not the sin. The violence against it is.
Even where tenderness and affection are deep, the fulfillment of sex can still be incomplete. Desire may reach toward transcendence and yet be misdirected by the manner in which it is sought. The tragedy of disordered eros is not that it desires too much, but that it seeks the infinite by insufficient means. Disordered love will always fall short of reflecting the good, beautiful, and true.
This is why the Church can seem so fussy about sexual ethics. Not because sex is evil or sinful, but because it is awesome in the truest sense of the word. It inspires awe. Sex is holy in that its practice should lead to wonder, to a realization of your place within God’s creation, to a sense of purpose, and to a deeper love for one another as we approach our Creator by reflecting his love in our sacred union.
Marvel with St. Methodius at the beauty of a godly eros, the one that saves humanity and brings them into participation with the divine nature,
The Church has been formed from His flesh and bone. For it was for her sake that the Word left His heavenly Father and came down to earth in order to cling to His Spouse, and slept in the ecstasy of His Passion. Voluntarily did He die for her…for the reception of that blessed spiritual seed which He sows and plants by secret inspiration in the depths of the soul; and like a woman the Church conceives of this seed and forms it until the day she bears and nurtures it as virtue. So too the word Increase and multiply is duly fulfilled as the Church grows day by day in size and in beauty and numbers, thanks to the intimate union between her and the Word, coming down to us even now and continuing His ecstasy in the memorial of His Passion.
In Methodius, eros is shown in its highest form. The marriage bed reflects the cosmos, and the union of husband and wife mirrors that eternal love through which the Church bears countless souls from her womb.
Sex reminds us that life isn’t utility. It is the longing for the other and for the giving of oneself. And as Christ gave himself for the Church, so the Church finds all her pleasure in her Bridegroom. Human desire is an itch for the divine. It is that physical sign of a higher spiritual reality, of Christ and his passionate love for us. And if it is tied to Christ first loving us, sex carries with it a responsibility to love Christ in return.
Sex is not an end in itself but a first rung on Jacob’s ladder. It is a gift to those who find, past their sexual desire, the blessing of selfless love. It is a misery for those who reduce their desire only to the language of appetite.
What does sex have to do with the stars?
Everything.
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