For Sister Ann Catherine

When I was 12, I wanted to be a nun. I admired the nuns that taught me in grade school. I loved the stories of nuns who became saints. I was attracted to their devotion, and their simple lives. I dreamed about it every day for months. Sometimes I still do.

If I were to tell you today, at 42, that I want to become a nun, how would you respond? What would be your first thoughts? Would I be correct if I guessed "what about sex?"

I've struggled with writing about this topic with the sensitivity it deserves from one who is no longer a practicing Catholic. But I don't think I could ever do it justice. So, here it goes anyway. BC wrote a great post about obsession with spiritual feeling the other day, and it gave me the push I needed. The heart of his post is that, after the initial ecstasy of spiritual surrender, what follows is often this...

"You no longer feel that post sex glow...that you once felt. You decide to try the altar call again, and again, and again. You engage in altar calls compulsively and without joy, much like a nymphomaniac or a satyriasist engages in sex. In a very real sense, some Christians make a god out of the feeling they get when they get up in front of church and 'rededicate their lives to Christ.'"

Has feeling become our God? I think if it has not yet, we are all in imminent danger of it becoming so. Our culture is so self focused, it is inevitable that we would be tainted by its influence in the most sterile of environments. But I want to leave the discussion of "sex at the altar," and move to "the altar of sex."

Catholic priests, monks, and nuns take a vow of celibacy. They consider themselves married to God. I think that the vow of celibacy is one of the most counter-western-culture ideals there is. It's not just a Catholic vs. Protestant thing. It flies in the face of consumerism, red-blooded-American dreams, modern psychology; almost everything our western culture holds dear. It is rivaled only, in my humble opinion, by the vow of poverty, also taken by these folks.

This is a pretty wierd thing to promise in the 21st century. At least in my little corner of the world, it is. I will not have sex with anyone. I will not marry. I will not have children because of this vow. I will devote my life to the service of the Church and to worship of God. I will keep my mind and my body pure in order to be a useful tool in this world until I'm joined with the One I love. Way atypical. Not a likely candidate for Survivor or The Bachelor.

Really, the idea of making a promise and keeping it past the point it causes me inconvenience is a real strain. And that's just the idea. I think perhaps I'm not alone in this.

I won't take time here to attempt to blame any industry, movement, parent, school, religious institution - whatever - for the condition our culture is in. We frequent a myriad of venues at which, when you dig deep to see where the god dwells, that god is sexual image. I feel, I copulate; therefore, I am. My feeling is my god. Sex and sexual image has a draw on this culture that is unmatched by any basic need or drive in our lives. It affects every aspect of our lives, so subtly, because we are immersed in it (unless we are cloistered). And for the most part, we are willing consumers of its products; sex makes dollars. I don't think our time and culture are alone in this; history has shown otherwise. But, we have to deal with the time we are in, and who we are in it. ( I know the images I've just painted merit expansion, but not here; please fill in the blanks for now.)

Sex is fabulous. It is a gift from God. But, it isn't God. I am not defined by the sex I have, I dream of, or I am. That is an important part of me, but not the core. I've found myself in the places that have offered me the least comfort or affirmation. I think I may have stumbled on something that smart people from way back knew all along. We are defined by who we are when we are stripped of all of our illusions.

This vow of celibacy is so much more than going without something. It is about making oneself available to something that faith has shown us is higher, and better. It is a pure, beautiful, sacrificial gift. Why do we think it to be so strange and foreign to our own natures? Perhaps the obsession with sexual image and identity is simply the filling of the void that self-focus creates in us. I don't believe that a celibate life is a prerequisite to effective ministry in the Church of God. But I do respect and honor the choice men and women have made over their own present desires to dedicate their bodies and hearts to God for life. Sister Ann Catherine was my first grade teacher, the first nun I ever knew. She taught me to read. She chose teaching children like me over having her own. The little catholic in me will never forget her.

No, I'm not going to become a nun. God has not called me to that life. But you won't see me wiping my brow and breathing a sigh of relief. You might hear me whispering, amen.