A few months ago a priest I am acquainted with threw out an invitation on Facebook for anyone to ask any question (via private message) about the morality of certain sexual acts in marriage. In a short period of time his inbox was flooded with questions and inquiries--from faithful, orthodox Catholics--to the point that he had to abandon the endeavor for lack of time to answer them all.
It was interesting because anytime there is that kind of interest or hunger for something--even when it happens to be a "don't go there" topic--it is kind of a litmus of a need. Those who crave the true, the beautiful, the timeless know this when it comes to liturgy in a post-conciliar culture. Those who wish for clarity in teaching can get frustrated with noodley catechesis and statements. And those who long for joy and peace in an age of depression and anxiety can be moved to despair when it seems just to be always just beyond the horizon.
It was also interesting because these were faithful, orthodox Catholics who were eager to ask and learn on this topic of chastity within marriage--people who are striving to be holy, live by the Church's teaching, and ensure they not offending their Creator inadvertently. Sure, some of them may suffer from scruples, but by and large, I think they just wanted to be assured they were respecting the marital bed and honoring God with their bodies with the nuts and bolts stuff.
It's hard to know in this culture sometimes, though, isn't it? It reminds me of the words of G.K. Chesterton in Orthodoxy (I am not a big GKC buff, but this example was given to me years ago and I always remembered it):
"Joy, which was the small publicity of the pagan, is the gigantic secret of the Christian...Catholic doctrine and discipline may be walls; but they are the walls of a playground. Christianity is the only frame which has preserved the pleasure of Paganism. We might fancy some children playing on the flat grassy top of some tall island in the sea. So long as there was a wall round the cliff's edge they could fling themselves into every frantic game and make the place the noisiest of nurseries. But the walls were knocked down, leaving the naked peril of the precipice. They did not fall over; but when their friends returned to them they were all huddled in terror in the centre of the island; and their song had ceased."
It's a fine line between scrupulosity and assurance, one that can be difficult to navigate depending on the modus operandi one is disposed to (operating from fear or love and trust). It is also the same way in which we as Catholics approach the issue of the assurance of salvation when we respond simply, "I have been saved, I am being saved, and I hope to be saved."
So what does any of this have to do with sex?
I came across a recent article in The Guardian citing that 62% of Brits have had a fantasy about being either dominant or submissive in the bedroom. You could point to the influence of the "Fifty Shades of Grey" films, that seemed to be wildly popular, but then it is a chicken-or-the-egg question: were these films made to tap into such secret desires, or did the film itself seek to normalize them? Or did it go farther back to Kinsey et al and their phony science on 'forbidden' sexuality on the cusp of the Sexual Revolution?
Regardless, the normalization of the abnormal in the culture leaves many who hold to traditional sexual practices as wondering whether they are in the minority. And it could be that they very well are. But is that such a bad thing? Erectile dysfunction for males in their twenties is not normal. Expecting violent sex on the eve of a first date is not normal. Expecting one's wife to mimic what they have seen in porn is not normal.
People don't always know what they don't know, whether it's in terms of morality or effect. The thing is, in Catholic moral teaching on human sexuality, the mechanics of sex is not always talked about for reasons of prudence. That's both a good thing and a not-so-good thing. Catholic are told, "Respect your wife. Give yourself to one another unreservedly. Keep the marriage bed undefiled," all things many good Catholics want to strive for. But how?
I've written about the topic here and here, and of course, get acquainted with Theology of the Body if you are not familiar with it already. Out of respect for my wife (and for your benefit!) I will not be writing about our sex life in any kind of detail. The bedroom should be a private sanctuary for husband and wife. But what happens in the bedroom also tends to reflect how much of the culture has been absorbed in one's personal life and ideas about sexuality; conversely, living the virtues (or lack of them) in one's sexual life is imported back into the culture, for better or for worse. In the same way music can penetrate our psyches uninvited, the contraceptive mentality can get into our pores and nostrils in a way we don't even realize.
It is also not always immediately seen or recognized. One may not always realize when they are using their spouse, being selfish within the sexual act, or committing adultery of the heart. But a tree can be judged by its fruit, and the fruit of love is joy. This is the paradox of fences and freedom. Thankfully, St. Pope John Paul II's Theology of the Body helps us dig the holes, sink the posts, and hang the fence in our sexual lives to give us the inner freedom to enjoy the fruits of the sexual act with abandon. The world and the culture looking from the outside-in may see old fashioned, "vanilla" sex as a puritanical recipe for boredom and rote conformist mechanics. What it doesn't see is the inner expanse; when one is not so focused on achieving maximum self-satisfaction by way of bodily gymnastics, foreign objects, and even violence and domination, there is a great deal of room to look to the other in self-abandonment and experience those things the world does not give sexual value to--trust, protection, selflessness, privacy, bonding, spiritual entwinement, and, yes, children--God's gift to us.
Remember the paradox in the Christian life--fences are a means to freedom, and walls a bulwark against the anxious abyss. It is within those walls, put up for our good by a loving God, that we can experience real freedom, true joy, and a love that, through the years, can run so deep it's hard to find the bottom.
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