Category: Healing

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Jesus and Restorative Justice

What is justice?

The greatest minds in human history have often pondered this challenging question: Plato in his Republic, Aristotle in his Ethics, Thomas Aquinas in his Summa.  Wise women and men do not pretend to have all the answers, but they stir up our curiosity by inviting us to ask the right questions.

Justice is a theme that runs throughout the Scriptures. In God’s plan, justice is wedded to mercy (Psalm 85:10). He does not desire the sinner to die but to turn back and live (Ezekiel 18:23). He sends his own beloved Son Jesus to seek out and save that which has been lost (Luke 19:10). He does not desire to condemn the world but to save it (John 3:17). When he acts justly, it is always ultimately with a view to heal and restore the creatures he has made – if we desire it. When he acts mercifully, it is never without an invitation to tell the full truth about the harm.

Think of Adam and Eve in the garden in Genesis 3. In their shame, they hide themselves – as though from an angry tyrant who is going to make them pay. He does bring Fatherly justice – holding them accountable and explaining to them the consequences. But he also promises eventual healing and restoration through “the woman” and her offspring. Adam and Eve are unable, at first, to tell the truth about what they have done. They try to shift the blame – anything to get the attention off the shame they are experiencing. God’s questions are for their good: Where are you? Who told you that you were naked? Have you eaten from the tree? God exhibits both justice and mercy because he is a loving Father who ultimately desires our wholeness and our sharing in his glory. He never lies or ignores the truth, but he also does not desire our loss. Rather than make us pay in strict retributive justice, he sends his own beloved Son so that we can receive his mercy.

But there is so much more than a “not guilty” verdict! The Father and Jesus desire our healing, our restoration, and our wholeness! That is the primary motive for the Father asking his Son to die and rise. Jesus proclaims to his disciples that he came so that we might have abundant life (John 10:10). When he starts appearing to people after the resurrection, he brings life, joy, peace, healing, restoration, wholeness, and holiness – so much more than what they had hoped or dreamed!

How damaging it has been for some Christians to think of the death of Jesus only in the sense of paying the price for our sins. Yes, there is justice – God is a loving and truth-telling Father who does not pretend as though our sins never happened. We can only be healed and restored if we take seriously the harm that our sins have caused – the way in which we have ruptured relationships with him, with others, and with ourselves. AND the Father desires restoration, wholeness, and holiness.

Consider Jesus and Zacchaeus, the tax collector who has exploited many vulnerable people (Luke 10). Jesus eagerly seeks out Zacchaeus, who is stunned at being desired and delighted in. But Jesus also allows Zacchaeus to name the harm he has caused and work to repair it. Mercy and justice go together.

Consider Jesus and Peter in John 21. Jesus stokes a charcoal fire there on the seashore – fully knowing what he is going to do. Following the miraculous catch of 153 fish, he then invites Peter into a conversation that is simultaneously remembering, truth-telling, and healing. Peter stands once again by a charcoal fire, just like the night before Jesus died – only now Peter is allowed the opportunity to say three times that he loves Jesus. Peter experiences much distress in this experience – as Jesus knows he will. It is not a shaming of Peter, but rather helping Peter journey through and out of the labyrinth of shame as he begins experiencing healing and restoration.

Peter is much humbler in this encounter than at the Last Supper, when he boldly declared he would lay down his life for Jesus. In the Greek text, Jesus asks Peter “Do you love me?” – using the verb agapein to denote a self-sacrificing love. Peter responds (truthfully this time) that he loves him with philein – a brotherly love. Jesus foretells the eventual day when Peter will indeed love him so greatly as to lay down his life. For now, he simply invites Peter, “Follow me.” When we read the Acts of the Apostles, we see the restoration and transformation of Peter taking ever fuller effect. The risen glory of Jesus begins shining in and through him.

Repair and restoration take time. But they include a safe space in which both the one who has harmed and the one who was harmed can be heard, can tell the truth about what has happened, and can seek so much more than simply making someone pay.

I have friends who desire this kind of reform in our criminal justice system – which we all know to be broken and badly in need of repair! I am not an expert in those areas, but I hope we begin asking more of the right questions! Both Scripture and our Catholic Tradition have so much more to offer than a justice that only thinks about retribution.

As a priest, I am especially interested in how restorative justice can take root in our marriages, our families, and our church institutions. Too often, when serious harm has happened, we do not use our God-given creativity to open up a safe and healing forum in which all sides can tell the truth about the harm and seek full restoration for all who have been impacted.

Our families of origin and our church families have often failed in this area – especially when there has been sexual harm. Most people I know feel even more shame and awkwardness talking about sexuality – even though it is one of God’s most glorious gifts to us. Consequently, those who have been harmed sexually – whether by someone working for the church or by someone else – often find that neither their family of origin nor their church family is a safe haven to bring their story. I can think of more than a dozen individuals I know personally who suffered even greater betrayal because their story was not received with care.  Simultaneously, our society currently offers no path of redemption or restoration for those who have perpetrated sexual harm – they are branded as permanent outcasts beyond the reach of mercy.

Our just and merciful Father says otherwise – he desires healing and restoration for all who will receive it. As with Adam, Eve, Zaccheaus, the Samaritan woman at the well, or Peter, such restoration is only possible if we are willing to be truth-tellers – both about the harm done to us and about the harm we have done to self and others. Jesus will invite us to follow him on a healing path that includes (sometimes awkward or messy) repair. We will die and rise with him as we come to full maturity in him. In the end, if we welcome this full encounter with his love and truth, his righteousness will shine in us.

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Jesus and Abandonment

When I ponder the final words of Jesus on the Cross, I feel intrigued by the word “abandon.” Matthew and Mark recall Jesus’ anguished cry to the Father, “My God, my God, why have you abandoned me?” (Matthew 27:46, Mark 15:34). But Luke recalls Jesus “abandoning” himself into the Father’s hands in trust and surrender, as he breathes his final breath (Luke 23:47). How can two so drastically different human experiences be expressed with the same English word?

I feel a personal connection with both experiences. The one is so full of anguish, sorrow, or panic – even fury. The other is touched with tenderness, intimacy, trust, and security. The one screams out from isolation; the other approaches in sweet intimacy.

During my college seminary years, I drew much consolation from reading Abandonment to Divine Providence by Jean Pierre de Caussade (1675-1751), a French Jesuit. His words spoke into my orphaned heart that struggled to trust and surrender in vulnerable relationships – even though I couldn’t have named the experience at the time.

During that same time, I went on my first ever silent retreat. I look back with a smile on the “me” of a quarter century ago. In my willful heart, there was both a tender longing for intimacy with God and a pharisaical legalism. Like young Saul, I threw all my zeal into the retreat. My 21st birthday came and went; a few friends even sang for me at breakfast. I smiled and blushed, but dutifully kept my silence.

I felt a longing as I recalled our high school chaplain describing the importance of his annual retreats. He had once testified to how God began speaking to him when he stayed in silence long enough. This must be how it works, I thought. So I spent a full three hours in the chapel each afternoon – mostly kneeling. But I didn’t conquer God; he conquered me. On the third day, abruptly and unexpectedly, it was as though a massive wave pulsed through the room and me. I suddenly and intensely felt the the strength and security of his providence – a sense that truly (in the words of Julian of Norwich) “all will be well and all manner of thing will be well.”

Amidst that peace and an intense desire for more of that peace, I felt convicted of all the times that I was “pushing through” the present moment. I was either enduring that which was unpleasant or devouring that which was pleasurable. Either way, I wasn’t opening myself to the gift that can only be received in the present. He helped me see how often things that felt confusing or overwhelming in the present moment actually led to abundant blessing. He flooded my mind and heart with the image of looking back down the mountain at the twisting path already walked – including steps that made utterly no sense at the time – and marveling at how no other path would have worked. He gave me some felt sense of how he sees all of these things simultaneously; all the moments are one in him; all are “now” for him. He invites me to surrender to him in the “now” of the present moment. I resist. When I left the chapel and felt the throb of circulation as the blood returned to my knees. I paused in the hallway to gaze on a copy of a Pinturicchio painting of the Crucifixion (see above). I felt a jolt of awe as I gazed upon the “now” of Jesus’ once-and-for-all sacrifice on the Cross. Beneath him lay death dismantled, overcome by his love and his shed bled. Behind him was paradise restored, and a felt sense of God’s eternal rest sustaining him in that moment of surrender. I felt Jesus’ trust in his Father and an intense desire to share in that trust.

In the twenty-five years since, I have felt both senses of “abandonment” many times over. Perhaps the most distressing situations for me are those in which I feel left alone by those I thought I could trust – suddenly facing an overwhelming and dangerous threat by myself, when I thought I would have protection and security. That feeling of abandonment is so ancient for me and so familiar. The lies can race through my head at lightning speed: They don’t understand; they don’t care; they can’t be trusted; I am all alone! In some cases, I flee and isolate myself; at other times I attack with an angry outburst and hold others to impossible expectations, as if they are supposed to revolve around my needs. The more I mature in Christ, the more quickly I notice, and the more frequently I choose a different path – or repair if I repeat old patterns.

Again and again, God has also invited me into trust and surrender, reminding me to live in the present moment and look for his gift. If I abide and gaze and receive, the gift is always there, including in those moments in which I am invited to take up my cross with Jesus.

I can only receive the gift of the present moment to the extent that I let down the defenses of my self-protection. Otherwise I limit how much I can receive, and ultimately how much I can give.

The English verb “to abandon” comes from the French abandonner. The French verb has multiple senses, which one way or another are ways of untying, releasing, or relinquishing a band that ties something together. When we do so with a committed relationship or a grave duty (e.g., parenting, governing, leadership), other humans experience abandonment in the first sense (“My God, my God, why have you abandoned me?”). But there is also an untying or letting go when we encounter beauty, when we forgive harm, when we dance, or when we connect with another person.

Jesus, in his Passion, enters fully into both human experiences of “abandonment,” and reconciles them. Those of us who have experienced abandonment in the first sense tend to have spectacular defenses against ever letting anyone close again. Jesus cries out to the Father on our behalf. Jesus also “abandons” in the second sense. He cancels the debt of our sins, releasing all claims to make us pay. He meekly surrenders himself like a lamb, even in the face of contempt, violence, and powerlessness. He releases every merely human solution and entrusts all of it to his Father. He freely submits and becomes the seed sown into the earth that bears abundant fruit. May we claim his victory and allow him to reconcile in our hearts all that impedes our own surrender.

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Purity Culture – Conclusion

This is the fifth and final installment of my reflections on the “purity culture” often found in Christian homes and churches. Out of fear that young people will be corrupted by the sex-obsessed culture, we sometimes miss the mark ourselves. We link shame and sexual desire together in ways God never intended; we abdicate our responsibility of providing apprenticeship in chastity; or we model a moralistic self-righteousness rather than humble growth and fruitfulness. Perhaps the biggest mistake is turning “purity” exclusively into a moral issue and/or a sexual issue. That is certainly not the biblical view nor the Catholic view.

Lie #5 – “Purity” is mainly about sexual morality

In the Beatitudes, Jesus teaches, “Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God” (Matthew 5:7). Isn’t it interesting that most American Christians hear these words and instantly imagine sexual morality?

Yes, Jesus proceeds to address adultery and lust in the subsequent chapters. But he also addresses murder, aggression, anger, unforgiveness, and greed. He teaches about prayer, fasting, and almsgiving. He invites us to seek first the Kingdom of God, and in so doing to persevere in seeking, asking, and knocking.

Above all else, Jesus speaks from start to finish about a relationship with God the Father. He invites us into communion. He desires us to be “blessed” by our Father, who sent his own Son to die for us while we were yet sinners. We do not and cannot earn our way into relationship by good conduct. We enter our covenant with God as ones who are poor in spirit; grieving and mourning, meek and humble; aching with hunger and thirst. Jesus knows that we will be presenting broken lives to God for mending.  Purity of heart means bringing God all of the scattered pieces of our shattered hearts! It is then that real growth can begin.

In other words, when Jesus speaks of being “pure in heart,” he is inviting us to be wholly and wholeheartedly consecrated to God. That means allowing every dimension of our being to be blessed by him. It is the opposite of hiding away pieces of ourselves in shame! It was the devil who tried to convince Adam and Eve to run and hide after they had disobeyed God.

Toxic shame is perhaps the single greatest obstacle that keeps us from letting ourselves (ALL of ourselves) be loved by God and others. Many of us are more susceptible to shame because we learned to tie performance and relationships together: “I am only lovable if…” or “I am only lovable when…” To the extent that those lies have purchase in our hearts, Christian morality becomes a torment rather than Good News.

The urge to hide ourselves is challenging enough when we feel shame over moral faults. But the devil has worked still greater harm in many of us. In moments of betrayal, abuse, abandonment, or neglect, he has crept in and whispered lies – convincing us to hold contempt toward our desires, our bodies, our sexuality, or our capacity for delight. We then enter a false battle for “purity” – trying to rid ourselves of that which is best in us! If we feel shame every time we feel desire, how can we grow in healthy relationships? Hiding ourselves does not lead to intimacy.

Our shame can be healed by moving away from hiding and towards relationships: becoming truly and safely seen, known, heard, understood, and cherished – not some idealized version of ourselves, but as we currently are, a work in progress.

The Catechism of the Catholic Church (n. 2518) speaks of purity of heart as a threefold sharing in God’s purity: in our charity, our chastity, and our orthodox belief. In other words, we are created to share in divine Goodness, divine Beauty, and divine Truth.

Truth, Goodness, and Beauty – the human heart has an almost insatiable longing for all three! The devil HATES this longing in us, but cannot erase it. So he attempts to divert and distract us away from the intimacy of relationship that is at the core of all three.

Our intellects are ordered to the Truth. Purity of heart includes surrendering to the Truth whenever the evidence is in front of us. The humble heart is willing to be proven wrong – or incomplete. The arrogant heart resists the vulnerability of surrender – either through obstinate refusal to believe what God has revealed or through a dogmatism that thinks it knows everything – as though Truth is an object we could possess. The closer we get to divine Truth, the more we realize how little we truly know!

Our wills are ordered to Goodness. We long to love and be loved. And so God commands us to love him with all our heart, mind, soul, and strength, and to love our neighbor as ourselves. It is a two-way street: freely receiving and freely giving. Growing in purity of heart includes recognizing any ways in which we are blocked – either in giving or receiving. The more we love, the greater our ache to become more God-like in our love.

Our ache for Beauty flows from both our intellect and our will. Here we find the intense desire of eros that is such a glorious divine gift. No wonder the devil tries so hard to ruin it! Early and often, he entices us to curse our desire for Beauty – to feel shame around this God-given longing.

Yes, our desires often run wild – overindulging in food, becoming possessive in relationships, or wandering into sexual fantasies. That is why the Catechism speaks of “apprenticeship” in chastity. There is an appropriate pruning or discipline – not for the sake of cutting off desire, but of fully claiming it.

The word “purity” is first and foremost about our relationship with God –with sexuality as only one dimension. It is a damaging distortion to use “purity” in a moralistic sense. Instead, the Catechism of the Catholic Church devotes ten full paragraphs to the much more helpful words “integrity” and “integrality” (see nn. 2338-2347). Little by little, we learn how to put all the pieces together, aided by healthy relationships with God and others.

Becoming a whole person in our sexuality, our desires, our emotions, and our relationships is not a matter of “on” or “off,” maintaining or losing. It is a lifelong task. The Catechism proclaims this integration to be “a long and exacting work. One can never consider it acquired once and for all. It presupposes renewed effort at all stages of life” (n. 2342).

We are called to keep growing in charity, chastity, and truth our whole life long. The more we grow, the more we will long to grow. Getting a taste of God’s Truth, Goodness, and Beauty is described by many of the mystics as a “wound” – but in this case a wound of love that keeps us coming back to our lover for more. Once we begin tasting from the spring of living waters, our thirst for God intensifies. We desire more; we ache; we taste; we desire; and so the cycle of growth continues.

Apart from those living waters, we wither and die. If we only bring parts of ourselves to the living waters, the relationship will remain impartial and restricted. God desires ALL of us. The mystics desire ALL of him. Unlike lust, however, there is no devouring here. Jesus and his bride become one flesh, in a way that causes both to flourish. Every healthy and holy human relationship imitates that heavenly nuptial union. It is indeed a daunting and lifelong task to keep maturing in imitation of Christ. We need not shame ourselves or others in the process, but allow the kindness of God to keep spurring us on to deeper repentance.

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Purity Culture – Lie #4

This is the fourth installment in a series on the “purity culture” that has attempted to protect Christian families and churches. Although claiming a well-intended goal of sheltering children from toxic influences in the broader culture, the purity culture has actually set us up for more generations of relational harm. Last time, we saw how essential it is for parents and churches to provide apprenticeship in chastity – which is only possible if we have the courage to face the shame we ourselves feel around our bodies and our sexuality. That which is not transformed gets transmitted.

When we are willing to face our own sexual woundedness, the boldest of human tasks emerges: to allow desire to be awakened within our hearts. There can be no chastity and no holiness without awakened desire. Desire is the rocket fuel that propels every saint.

Lie #4: Purity means fleeing from my desires

When it comes to unwanted sexual behaviors, the go-to answer for many a Christian has been the Monty Python solution: “Run away! Run away! Run away!”

Certainly, in the moment of temptation, it makes sense to turn promptly away, to get one’s mind and body engaged in something else, to connect with a safe person, and to reassess. But as most of you know, when an individual or a dating couple reach that moment and feel that level of arousal, they find it rather hard to change their mind. Their bodily passions betray them – or do they?

We easily forget that it is God who created our bodies, our sexual arousal, and our capacity for orgasm. These are among God’s greatest gifts to us, ordered to his glory. When Scripture describes us as being created in the very image and likeness of God, it does so at the moment of describing how God created us as sexual beings, male and female (Genesis 1:27). Our capacity for sexual ecstasy – to “stand outside ourselves” in the intensity of a love relationship – is one of the most amazing ways we are capable of imitating the communion of love that is the Trinity.

Our desires do not come from the devil. The devil cannot create! He can only present us with the good and beautiful things God has created and invite us to seek them in a disordered way that ruins us. He is the enemy of human nature. He envies us; he hates us; he seeks to ruin all that is best in us. The devil’s ultimate strategy is not to lure us into sexuality; his strategy is to ruin sexuality!

I love nerdy board games. I know it’s going to be a great game when it has hundreds of wooden pieces and multiple instruction books – both in English and in German. A common mistake of rookie players is to get too caught up in the tactics of the early rounds and lose sight of the end game. Most of the plays you make early on are setting you up for the later rounds of the game when you really hope to flex your muscles.

We can give the devil his due – he is brilliant and cunning strategist. He sneaks in early and often in our life to whisper his lies and bind us up in toxic shame. As our bodies mature (in exactly the way God designed), the devil works his early and mid-game strategy to ensure that we will feel ashamed of our bodies, our sexuality, and our capacity for intense joy and delight. When he’s the most masterful, we don’t even realize he’s been there. We develop our own inner shaming voice – which we even think to be divine. Then we start doing the devil’s work for him – cursing our own bodies, our arousal, and our capacity for honor and delight. As shame increases over the years, unwanted sexual behaviors are anything but secret delights. They leave us feeling more and more hollow and ashamed. They become a renewal of unholy vows – consummating again and again the lie that we are worthless, dirty, or unlovable. The devil’s genius is that he can take something so amazing as sex and sexual arousal and use those “very good” gifts to convince us that we are detestable.

And here we find the real context for Christian asceticism or penance. Yes, Jesus presumes that his followers will engage in prayer, fasting, and almsgiving (Matthew 6). He connects fasting to the presence or absence of the bridegroom. The real reason for asceticism is to enlarge our desires and allow ourselves to enter excitedly into the wedding feast, the nuptial union between Christ and his bride, the Church (Matthew 9:15).

Too often, “self-denial” becomes a misguided and harmful attempt to cut off desire. Then our asceticism becomes shame-driven, as we punish ourselves in a sense of unworthiness. We begin depriving ourselves of things that are authentic human needs: rest, play, joy, delight, or deeply meaningful work. By contrast, I think of Francis of Assisi. His heart overflowed with those blessings, without clinging to any of them. His radical poverty and his freely embraced celibacy, far from cutting off desire, opened him to be a man full of delight, in a fruitful way of life that has allured millions over the centuries.

Authentic asceticism is about a deeper claiming of our God-given desire. It leads to more delight, not less! We deny ourselves certain things so that we can get incredibly excited (aroused!) about greater things. Yes, Jesus speaks of “cutting off” or “ripping out” (Matthew 5:29-30). But he also warns us that it does no good to drive one demon out of the house and have seven new ones take its place (Matthew 12:43-45). Self-denial is always for the sake of bigger desire.

We are created for desire, for arousal, and for union – to experience intense delight as we receive and give love. Sexual union between husband and wife is meant to be a ritual act of worship that points as a sign to heaven itself – which is going to be a wedding feast! Godly celibacy is also fueled by eros. It is described by Jesus as a gift “for the sake of the Kingdom” precisely because it, too, is a passionate giving and receiving of love that reminds us of the heavenly wedding feast. That heavenly union is so “real” that all earthly marriages will fade away in its sight (cMatthew 22:29-30).

Yes, discipline and discipleship go together – but not for the sake of punishing or eliminating our God-given desire. The problem is not that we desire too much, but that we desire too little. Actually, desire is always there, sometimes buried deeply or tangled up among so many diversions or distractions – but every ready to be stoked into flame. Our fallen tendency is to resist going into the depths of our desire, which is where we find the virtue of Hope – the virtue of Good Friday and Holy Saturday, awaiting the Resurrection. To desire and not yet possess, to seek the beloved and not yet find him – this can be agony indeed. It is far easier to plunge into austere penances or indulgent pleasures than to abide in a holy longing. Holy longings can really hurt sometimes.

God knows how hard it is to grow in Hope. He does not unduly push or pressure us. Catholic mystics over the centuries have been enamored with the Song of Songs, that book of the Bible consisting of erotic love poetry, in which the beloved desperately seeks her lover in the dark, agonizing until she finds him. The author acknowledges the intensity of this pursuit: “I adjure you, Daughters of Jerusalem, do not awaken or arouse love until it is ready!” (Song of Songs 8:4).

Is your love of Christ ready to be awakened and aroused this Lent?

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Purity Culture – Lie #3

Few would deny that we live in an age of unhealthy and dysfunctional sexuality. The “purity culture” we’ve been discussing is an understandable reaction to a real threat. But those engaging in the fight often act as though sexuality is itself the threat. That is quite a contrast from John Paul II’s description of the fruitful one-flesh union of husband and wife as an icon that makes visible the eternal love of the Trinity!

Lie #3: We have to protect our children against sexuality.

Christian families and churches vary in their messaging around sex. Some are prudish and puritanical; others openly proclaim sex as a good and beautiful gift of God. But few have healthy and helpful conversations.

It’s not merely the message that matters; it’s the modeling of the message. A family may have snappy Christmas postcards and impeccable social media posts. They may seem to have it all together. But those who have eyes to see can tell when a married couple is healthy and joyful in their relationship (including their sexuality). You can tell when they are merely pretending, when there is strain, and when there is shame and contempt. Children have fully operational right brains, and as such, they are incredibly intuitive and insightful. If their parents feel shame around their bodies, their desires, their fantasies, or their behaviors, the children will be impacted significantly. Parents who are unhealthy in their own sexuality will invariably transmit their dysfunction to the next generation – especially when they don’t admit it or talk about it.

When the Catechism of the Catholic Church discusses healthy sexuality (n. 2339), it offers the image of apprenticeship in virtue, particularly in the virtue of chastity. Rather than warning against a loss of purity or advocating a posture of protection, the Catechism speaks of gradually growing into the virtue of “chastity” – a virtue that leads to human flourishing in our expression of love and sexuality. Chastity here is not synonymous with celibacy; it applies to everyone. Chastity is a free, joyful, wholehearted, and creative giving and receiving of love – in the way that best suits the place we find ourselves (married, single, celibate, dating, engaged, elderly, prepubescent, adolescent, same-sex attracted, sick, disabled, divorced, widowed, etc.).

Our sexuality is a stunningly beautiful gift from God, one that affects all dimensions of our existence. In his intentional design, he has created us as sexual beings, male and female. He declares us “very good” in his own image and likeness. He invests us with a spark of creativity that none of the other creatures receive. Thus empowered, we are intended to be the stewards of the entire cosmos.

Christian scholars as diverse as C.S. Lewis and Pope Benedict XVI describe this divine spark of creativity as eros – the Greek word for “love” as an intense or erotic desire. Far from seeing eros as a threat, they see it as God’s greatest natural gift to the human race. The creativity of eros shows up in sex, for sure, in the amazing gift of procreation. How many mothers and fathers have held their newborn infant, marveling that this growing child came forth from their very bodies, from their one-flesh union? But eros, when directed in virtue, also fuels every other shining achievement: poetry, music, art, architecture, scientific research, discoveries, and inventions. Celibate individuals tend to be even more passionate and even more fruitful. Consider the public ministry of Jesus, the missionary zeal of Paul, the brilliant philosophy and theology of Thomas Aquinas, or the intense and alluring joy of Francis of Assisi.

Our sexuality is a precious and powerful gift. As such, it requires ongoing maturing through slow and steady growth. This process only happens well through apprenticeship. Think of a lumberjack or a blacksmith teaching his trade to children, or of Mister Miyagi teaching karate to Daniel LaRusso. They train their youth to wield something powerful – harmful if misused. It’s all the more reason to teach patiently, step by step, how those tools and methods work. Growth and mastery happen through thousands of small moments – including setbacks, conflicts, mistakes, and failures. Nor is the maturing involved simply a matter of skill or technique; it is a style of relating and a way of life.

Many of us my age and older received zero instruction from our parents around our sexuality. At best, there was “the talk” – as though one awkward conversation would yield a lifetime of virtue and holiness in one’s sexuality. When it comes to the single most beautiful gift God has given us, we offer the least guidance. Effective apprenticeship means that children trust both the teaching and the example of their parents. It means they readily go to them when they are struggling.

Perhaps the most helpful thought experiment is what happens if a child stumbles across pornography. These days, sadly, it is not a matter of “if” but only of “when.” It will almost certainly happen before the child reaches 18, and quite possibly before he or she reaches 10.

The normal instinct of the young (both mammals and humans) is to run to their parents when they unexpectedly stumble on something big or unknown or powerful. You don’t have to teach them – it happens automatically!

Why is it, then, that so few children go to mom or dad when they stumble upon pornography, or have an unexpected sexual encounter? Something has happened in their experience that warns them that it will not be safe. The more shame that mom or dad feel around their bodies and their sexuality, the less likely the children will be to go to them. It is one thing to call the body a temple of the Holy Spirit; it is another thing to treat it like one!

Early and often, children need help in understanding their bodies and what they are experiencing in their bodies. The more attuned parents are to what is really happening in the hearts and bodies of their children, the more helpful those conversations will be.

In those rare cases that children run to their parents and receive good care, they will not suffer lasting trauma. Good care includes helping them understand how normal and healthy it is to feel aroused and to feel curious, and to offer guidance on why God created us to feel that way. Then any shame involved in the experience melts away.

As well-meaning as it is to “shelter” children, we need to train them instead. Ask yourself this simple question: would you rather that your children get information and answers from you or from google?  There are real threats in the culture (internet pornography, sexual predators, and human trafficking). Truly protecting children means having healthy and helpful conversations early and often, equipping them and training them. It means apprenticeship!

Our children are as God created them to be: sexual beings with developing bodies, natural curiosity, and capacity for arousal.  That means talking with them, gradually over the years, about their bodies, their body parts, and pornography – using the correct words for all of them and an explanation that makes sense to the children at their developmental stage.

I find that parents who have had the courage to engage their own story and heal from their own shame become the most comfortable and confident at mentoring their children in chastity. Obviously the parents themselves are called by Christ to continue maturing. In many cases, there is a need of remedial mentoring. There are stories of harm or neglect from their own past that have not yet received the healing of Jesus. As parents heal from their shame and recover the glory of their own sexuality, their growth in chastity will attract and guide their children. We cannot expect our children to grow in ways that we have not grown ourselves!

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“Purity Culture” – Lie #2

Last week, I began this multi-part series questioning the messages of the “purity culture.” For at least two generations, its representatives have claimed to speak with the authority of Jesus and his Church. But in many cases, they have been fueled more by fear than by love, fighting a protective war against the menacing culture, and shaming those who disagree.

We saw last time how damaging it is to consider purity as a prize to be lost.

Unfortunately, there are other lies and distortions that also need to be named and corrected.

Lie #2: Marriage will rescue me from my struggles.

Many evangelical congregations or stricter Catholic priests and families have upheld “purity” as a falsely exalted virginity. Those who enter marriage with their purity intact are upheld as mighty champions. They made it! On the surface, it seems like a great message. After all, fornication is a sin, because marriage is the God-given context for sexual intercourse. But is it really true that bringing virginity into marriage automatically makes you a champion? And does that make everyone else a loser?

In the very same Christian homes or extended families, children are often abused or neglected (physically, emotionally, sexually, or spiritually). They repeatedly see mom and dad not honoring and delighting in each other. They see aggression and contempt – whether the more active kind (interrupting, shouting, swearing, name calling, pushing, throwing objects, or hitting) or the passive kind (sulking, silent treatments, disengaging, avoiding, undermining, or gossiping). Such children only feel loved when they fit the prefabricated mold their parents impose. When mom or dad treat each other or the children with contempt, the same parents pretend afterward as though nothing happened. They may even talk about how amazing or wonderful family is, stirring up a spirit of dread about “those people” in the world who are threatening family life.

Meanwhile, these same children and adolescents receive little to no real guidance about healthy sexuality. They discover pornography at a tender age and know instinctively that mom and dad would shame them if they knew about it.  They commit one “impure” act and secretly fear that they must be one of the losers, not one of the champions. Even worse, they feel intense shame that they are somehow experiencing arousal and pleasure amidst their “impurity.” It feels as though their body is betraying them, as though their body is not gloriously working exactly the way God designed it to. Neither family nor church are truly there to help them make sense of what their body is experiencing, lifting the shame and coaching them toward true maturity.

Unwanted behaviors deepen and intensify, fueled by shame and secrecy. In desperate attempts to salvage their “purity” before marriage, humans begin to draw strange lines in the sand. Over the years, I have spoken to teens and young adults who have done just about every sexual act except for vaginal intercourse – because they didn’t want to lose their virginity before marriage. “At least I’m still a virgin.” “At least I never did ________ like those people” (can you hear the contempt and shame here?).

Within this purity culture of our families and churches, how many millions of Christian young adults have sincerely believed that once they were married all these unwanted behaviors would melt away. SPOILER ALERT: they don’t.

Each of us brings our whole personal history into our present-day relationships. We bring our heartache and heartbreak, our unresolved trauma, our toxic shame, and our self-protection. In a fallen race that still bears the divine image, family is typically both beautiful and broken. Amidst the brokenness, we have all learned ways of surviving. We know how to get through hard stuff without exposing ourselves to even more wounds.

There is a brilliance here – using our God-given creativity to survive and even find some scraps of delight. How sad, though, when most or all of our human creativity is diverted into sheer survival. We are created for abundance, to be fruitful and multiply. We are created to receive and give love, with intense delight and joy.

Over time, our survival skills block our capacity to be vulnerable and to receive in healthy relationships – especially within marriage (or within priesthood, or within any other vocation).

I think C.S. Lewis put it best:

To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything and your heart will be wrung and possibly broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact you must give it to no one, not even an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements. Lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket, safe, dark, motionless, airless, it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable. To love is to be vulnerable.

Without vulnerability, without a capacity to receive the love of another as free gift, how can sex be healthy? When authentic emotional expression is stifled, or when sexual arousal is instantly associated with shame, how can marriage or family life flourish?

By overemphasizing “purity” before marriage, the purity culture has lost sight of the pinnacle of human love and sexuality: praising God with delight, in our very bodies. That worship is only possible when we receive and give love, freely and wholeheartedly. Healthy and holy marriages are precious indeed! They slowly and steadily emerge as two distinct children of God learn how to keep growing in maturity. Then they can (more and more) share from the fullness of their own heart, rather than use or manipulate, assault or punish, isolate or hide, guard or protect.

Maturing means both husband and wife must keep engaging their own personal story – understanding where they have come from. It means resisting the temptation to glamorize (“I had an amazing childhood!”) or minimize (“Others had it much worse…”). It takes enormous courage to tell the full truth about just how hard it was, just how alone I felt, or just how desperately I still ache to be loved as I am. If parents refuse to see that painful truth in their own story, they will transmit their pain to their children. To the extent that parents still feel contempt for their own bodies and their own sexuality, they beckon their children to carry the same contempt into the next generation.

There are parallel truths for priesthood and celibacy. It is impossible to make a fruitful gift of one’s sexuality without an ongoing willingness to become a whole person capable of receiving love. I will soon be talking with several other priests about our need for affective and relational maturity if we want to live well the gift of celibacy for the sake of the Kingdom. Jesus promises a superabundant fruitfulness with this gift (Matthew 19:12; Mark 10:30).

As a Church, we have so much work to do in naming our own dysfunction – both in our priests and in our marriages. Certainly, there are problems “out there” in the culture. But the transformation always begins within our own minds, our own bodies, and our own souls.

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