“Tender Fires”: Some notes on sexuality, spirituality, and the ‘sacred erotic’ in the evolving human consciousness (Part 1)

I am as sexual and as capable of loving as any person currently enjoying the pleasures of his/her intimate relationship with his/her partner.  And that will remain so even if, due to circumstances or due to personal choice, I should end up celibate all my life.

That conviction is reaffirmed by the book, Tender Fires: The Spiritual Promise of Sexuality. Written in a prose style that combines philosophical insights with snippets of general knowledge and what may be construed as “commonsensical,” this gem of a book by Franciscan Sister Fran Ferder and Father John Heagle is a delight to read. Thanks to Ate Lourie (Victor), dear friend and a guiding light of our community of practice in the Philippines, for giving me a copy of the book – a very precious gift on Christmas 2008.

I would perhaps consider this text as one of the most provocative readings of my (relatively) young life. Riveting, radical and refreshing, the book, I must hasten to add, does not sensationalize issues about human sexuality and how they have been historically conceptualized in the Judeo-Christian faith traditions, but it definitely invites controversy – which is good. It is through controversy that people start to talk about, and perhaps, redefine their constructed social realities. It is controversy that invites us to see that our definitions are actually nebulous and that further negotiations can or should be made.

The book is certainly not dogmatic. In contextualizing human sexuality in the faith tradition of Christianity, it successfully veers away from providing definitive answers to controversial questions, a common feature of texts and publications steeped in the ways of dogmatism and orthodoxy. Like any good book, Tender Fires invites readers to think and think further, to question what is, and to engage themselves in a dialogue.

A thorough and incisive review of the text would perhaps generate several treatises on human sexuality and its interface with spirituality. I am honestly not ready to do that. So in this entry, I feature only some of the textual extracts which I find very interesting – words over which I have mulled during these past few days and which I intend to use as points of departure for future personal reflections. (The pictures of me and the statues at Haw Par Villa – courtesy of friend Angie Wong – should not be taken as visual interpretations of the book. They’re meant to provide those who dare read this blog a somewhat playful form of respite, especially if s/he gets exhausted by plowing through my usually torturous, convoluted and lengthy prose.)

Sexuality and the questions on love and life-giving

An important point raised by the authors is how sexuality should be understood. Sexuality cannot be merely reduced to “genitality” or “genital expression” or “genital sharing” (that is, in the words of DH Lawrence, “having sex”).

Sexuality, the authors argue, is a relational energy. Genital expression, in all its forms, is just a component of sexuality. “Sexuality is love energy.  It refers to the spiritual, emotional, physical, psychological, social, and cultural aspects of relating to one another as embodied male and female persons” (p. 29)

They add, “Sexuality, a still evolving term, has to do with all the ways we try to reach one another at the level of the heart. It involves our efforts to communicate, our acts of tenderness, and even our struggle to find each other again after an argument.  It is the constantly burning fire within us that compels us to turn toward one another” (Ibid.).

Seen this way, sexuality is something that everyone has a capacity of exercising. Even the religious, who, by choice, are celibate, can be considered sexual beings when they exert effort to relate with other people. Sexuality is present in all aspects of human-to-human relations.

The authors further point out that “[t]he central question regarding our sexuality is not about our gender, ethnic background, age, vocation, sexual orientation, faith tradition, or even religious and moral convictions, though each of these helps define our uniqueness.  But in our heart of hearts – and we believe in God’s eyes – the core issue is not whether we’re married or single, divorced or remarried, celibate or sexually active, gay or straight, wounded or well, old or young, male or female.  The central question is:  How can I – in the unique circumstances of my life and with God’s help and grace – become a more responsible love and life-giver? How can I receive the gift of life more reverently and humbly?  How can I give life more creatively and joyfully? How can I receive love with more trust and mutuality? How can I give love with more freedom and generosity?”  (pp. 21-22).

The book does not offer quick answers to these questions. In the succeeding sections, the authors invite the readers to reflect on their own stories and the embodied experiences of people on ground.

Same-gender love

Perhaps, one of the more controversial issues brought up by the authors is that of sexual diversity, particularly of same-gender love. 

In exploring this issue, the authors raise the question, “Did God create human persons to fall in love outside the confines of heterosexuality?” which they indirectly address with a rather controversial yet convincing point from a member of the faithful on the ground:  “This is the conviction among those who believe that same-gender love expresses acceptable sexual diversity. ‘Love is what is important.  It is the heart of Christian vocation.  God created the universe with diversity in all other areas.  It is difficult to believe that such a God could imagine only one acceptable way in which human love could be expressed sexually.  Same-gender love might even represent a natural way of limiting overpopulation.’ This statement, spoken passionately by an Episcopalian minister whose son is gay, resonates with many in our church communities who find no contradiction between fidelity to Gospel values and faithful, committed love between two persons of the same gender” (p. 76).

The statement from the Episcopalian minister may of course invite strong counter-arguments or counter-propositions. Moreover, his views may be dismissed for apparently being defensive of his gay son. But if sexuality is seen as a relational energy, then any human being should be capable of loving any of his fellow human beings – man or woman, gay or straight.  The position is also warranted by the authors’ conviction that the Creation Story is a “work in progress, an unfinished symphony of God’s desire to be known and be heard.” They concur with contemporary cosmologists that the universe is ever-expanding and that one of the fundamental dynamics at work in this expansion is differentiation.

“Differentiation,” the authors explain, “describes God’s creative energy as it expands outwardly creating time and space. It encompasses the variety and uniqueness of every snowflake, seabird, flower, and agate, all of which reveal a diversity that is as colorful as it is incomprehensible. Each galaxy and person is unique. Apparently our God delights in such profligate variety and invites us also to rejoice in the heavens and the earth ‘with all their array’ (Gn 2:11)” (pp. 82-83).

Viewed from a rather secular perspective, differentiation recognizes the human capacity to undo certain social structures or categories like gender (in this case, heterosexuality) that restrict what Judith Butler calls “greater livability.”  As Butler points out, “The experience of normative restriction becoming undone can undo a prior conception of who one is only to inaugurate a relatively newer one that has greater livability as its aim” (p. 1, Undoing Gender, 2004).

I believe greater livability is the point of embracing the diversity of the world around us and consequently, the uniqueness of every living thing.