Being Single in the Church Today: Insights from History and Personal Stories
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Being Single in the Church Today: Insights from History and Personal Stories
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Product Details
| ISBN-13: | 9780819229731 |
|---|---|
| Publisher: | Church Publishing Inc. |
| Publication date: | 11/01/2005 |
| Sold by: | Barnes & Noble |
| Format: | eBook |
| Pages: | 208 |
| File size: | 2 MB |
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BEING SINGLE IN THE CHURCH TODAY
Insights from History and Personal Stories
By PHILIP WILSON
Church Publishing, Incorporated
Copyright © 2006 Morehouse PublishingAll rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-0-8192-2973-1
CHAPTER 1
RIVERS AND RITUALS
A Historical Overview of Singleness from Earliest Times to the Year 1800
From my vantage point at Mount Sandel I have an awe-inspiring view of the River Bann, one of the great rivers of Ireland, as it makes its meandering way into the cold waters of the North Atlantic. The scene is a beautiful one. It is a pleasant day in late autumn and the Mount Sandel forest is turning a delightful array of golds and reds and browns. The River Bann makes her way slowly, majestically northwards, through Coleraine, the town of my birth. This river, teeming with fish, has always served as an important trade route, making Mount Sandel a viable settlement to those men and women who, seven thousand years before the time of Jesus of Nazareth, established this site as the earliest known place of habitation in Ireland. Under my feet is the evidence of nine millennia of human activity.
The stories of the first settlers at Mount Sandel would have been very much family stories, although whether they were 'families' as most Westerners today understand the term or what we would call a 'community' is somewhat difficult to ascertain. The archaeologists tell us, however, that their homes were huts built of saplings and covered with bark or deer hide. We believe that four huts existed at Mount Sandel, with room inside for perhaps as many as six people. So, there was a definite sense of community for the first Irish people: a close-knit group, related by blood and united in the various dangers of life, such as the ubiquitously haunting prospects of disease and premature death.
The site at Mount Sandel provides a fitting starting point for a book concerned with a theology and practice of singleness in the Church today. Between the times of the first Mesolithic inhabitants of Mount Sandel and the present-day post-modern occupants of Western towns such as Coleraine, the nature of people's lives has constantly changed. The following historical overview looks at four key periods in historical development: the Celtic period; the arrival of Christianity with its ascetic teachings; the medieval period; the Reformation and the subsequent development of a modern so-called 'nuclear family'. Looking at these stages of history with regard to our subject raises important questions: What are the predominant stories that have shaped different people's understandings about what it means to be human and what it means either to marry or to remain single during these ages? What affected the Church and what impact did the Church have on society at large as its teachings on celibacy and marriage became more widely disseminated? How have the attitudes of the past affected the actions of the present? These questions are the focus of our first chapter as we look at the history of singleness from earliest times until the dawn of the nineteenth century.
The Celts: A meandering morality
The early Celts who lived in places like Mount Sandel had attitudes towards sexuality as changeable and diverse as the River Bann on the ebb and flow of the tide. Human sexual mores could be quite transitory, each generation deciding for itself how it wished to express its sexuality. As one observer remarks, 'As long as family, government and religion remained stable, sexual beliefs were relatively constant.' Where, however, these institutions became unstable or were threatened, there ensued considerable paradigm shifts as Celtic society searched for new and innovative ways to carry on its everyday life – including its sexual life. There existed a view of sex which was holistic: sexual encounters were part of life as much as warfare or spirituality and were seen as equally amenable means to 'acquire property, status, or political advancement'.
The flexibility of the Celtic view of human sexuality is seen in the Brehon Laws which, most remarkably, have had some legal force until relatively recent times. These statutes, which regulated Irish society until the twelfth century CE when Anglo-Roman church law was imposed on the native Irish, give a fascinating account of sexual practice in a society totally uninformed of Graeco-Roman or Judeo-Christian moralities. For example, the idea of monogamous marriage was only one of a number of lifestyle options available to Celts. The Brehon Laws allow for no fewer than ten different types of marriage, from a union of equal rank to one where either the woman or the man was the socially superior. A man's concubine (dormuine) could also be recognised in law. Such laissez-faire attitudes towards sexual partners illustrates, in Patrick Power's words, that 'there could be no such thing as "an illegitimate child" '. Almost everyone and anything could be legitimate.
It seems that in Celtic Ireland where sex was good and natural, there appears to have been no formal teaching whatsoever advocating a celibate lifestyle. The predominant thinking was very much that the family was all-important. By 'family' the Celts did not mean the modern, largely self-contained 'nuclear family' comprising parents and children, but the derbhfhine, which was made up of all those males who were descended from a common great-grandfather. This derbhfhine acted as a body and members had responsibility, in varying degrees, for the actions of other family members. If, for example, someone was fined, it would be the derbhfhine who would pay the penalty. In fact, so strong was this sense of community in Celtic Ireland that Nora Chadwick has remarked that 'the most striking feature of the native institutions in Ireland is their apparently non-individual character'. To be 'single' (in the sense of living alone) was simply unheard of. One was always part of a community.
One would be mistaken, however, to assume that simply because the Celts had no burden of guilt or social disgrace concerning sexual antics there were no social expectations or norms whatsoever. An extremely important element in Celtic society was its use of myth and stories to create meaning. There existed a whole range of tales which sought to inject a sense of purpose into the way humans interacted. This was no less the case with human sexuality. In a community where women had an unusually high social position (they could 'contract, bear arms, become druids and engage in politics') such tales (a blend of legend, myth and history) helped to inform men and women of the sensitive issue of gender roles. At the very most, these could act as maps to chart one's own way through the difficult labyrinth of sexual relations. At the very least, these stories existed to remind individuals that one's experiences are not unique. There are many tales which speak not only of the necessity of the man to enjoy fertile liaisons with a woman (especially as it was believed that this would make the land prosper), but which also warn of the power of women's sexuality – a power which must be carefully respected and, if possible, rationally controlled. This, alas, was not always possible. The history of the notorious Queen Maev, a flamboyant ruler of Connaught, is of a lady who was totally in control of her own sexuality and whose boast to her husband that she 'never had one man without another waiting in his shadow' must surely have echoed down Celtic history as a role model to be venerated, if not feared. On the other hand, the saga of the romantic warrior CuChulain, well known to many in pre- Christian Ireland, would have served as an example of an occasion when a male enjoyed supremacy over females in sexual relations. Such epics ensured that each generation of Celts, although largely free to decide their practices for themselves, was not without inspiration from the past.
The sexual innocence of Celtic communities such as that at Mount Sandel would come to an end. The Roman Christian Church, with a vast warrior chest of theological taboos and notions of what was or was not acceptable, would conquer the relatively enfeebled isle of Ireland and would subdue her culture with the prevailing beliefs and behaviours of the European continent. For Ireland, this would mean an entirely new sexual ethic and the arrival – for the first time – of theories suggesting certain people should abstain from sexual relations for life.
The arrival of the Christians: Despising the ecstatic, embracing the ascetic
It must have been a massive culture shock bordering on near-lunacy to some ears to hear the following words of an Irish monk awakened on a windy winter's night to go to the oratory for prayers. At an hour when other men were also arising to visit their loved ones, the monk writes:
A sweet little bell
Is rung on a windy night;
I prefer to tryst with it Than tryst with a foolish lady.
Such a shock was occasioned by the arrival of the Christian gospel in Ireland. The advancing Church bore witness to an entirely different view of sexuality, of nature and of the human body itself. Its teachings derived from the examples and doctrines of influential men such as Clement of Alexandria, Origen and Augustine of Hippo. It is to the homelands of these key figures that we must briefly turn to acquire a full flavour of the cultural revolution about to occur in Ireland.
Far away from Ireland, in the North African city of Alexandria in the second century, developments were occurring that would have a lasting and profound influence on the Church's teaching on sexual matters. Alexandria was a thriving cosmopolitan centre of academic brilliance. Possessing some of the ancient world's finest libraries, it was a base for both high-minded classical Greek philosophy and in-depth study of the Hebrew Bible. It was in this centre of Greek-speaking Judaism during the first and second centuries that Christian thinkers such as Clement and Origen would make lasting contributions to Christian ideas about human sexuality. Often appropriating the richest elements of classical thought for their Christian endeavours, such scholars sought a middle way between the excesses of some who said anything was permissible and the denials of others who believed the human body was inherently sinful.
The figure of church history, however, most frequently associated with ascetic views concerning sexuality is Augustine of Hippo (354–430 CE). Another example of an extraordinarily gifted mind, Augustine was a teacher of rhetoric, first at Rome and then at Carthage where he was converted to Christianity in 386 CE, before arriving eventually at the sea-port of Hippo in North Africa as assistant to Bishop Valerius. The intellectual and moral developments of the young Augustine are contained in his Confessions. The importance of these writings cannot be overemphasised. Mary Clark has commented, 'next to the Bible, it has been the most widely read book in the world'. From popes to reformers, amongst the rich and the poor across the world, the spiritual journey of Augustine and his theological musings have had unparalleled influence for centuries.
Augustine's personal life makes anything he says about sexuality interesting. Before converting to Christianity he lived for thirteen years in an openly sexual relationship with a woman with whom he had a child. Peter Brown suggests this cohabitation was due to Augustine belonging to a social class where educational opportunities and careerism easily dictated one's moral choices. Such a situation was quite distinct from respectable late Roman morality of the day: 'Augustine chose his companion because he loved her; and he slept with her because he loved to do so, and not so as to produce grandchildren for his mother or citizens for his home town.'
This unbridled sexual indulgence (which was seriously frowned upon by Augustine's devout Christian mother) was probably first challenged by Augustine's contact with the Manicheans. The Manicheans were a complex Gnostic sect, not entirely dissimilar to those with whom Clement and Origen had contended, who had a tendency to dualise the universe along lines consistent with their Zoroastrian-inspired world-views. A key theme of Manicheism was its emphasis on the Light – that which is good and from God. Humanity, they believed, should pursue a constant quest to accentuate the Light and to eliminate the Darkness. The two most darkening aspects of life to be avoided at all costs were the practices of flesh-eating and sexual reproduction. Clearly, such teaching would be an enormous challenge to a man like Augustine with strong sexual appetites. None the less, Manicheism was appealing to Augustine. It was a poetic religion, rich in music and in art, and it sought to answer why there was evil in the world. Ultimately, however, Augustine would become disillusioned with it. He lost his new-found faith and briefly became something of an agnostic, not because of the sexual or theological notions of the Manichees, but – of all things – because of what he regarded as their faulty astronomy!
After a period of insecurity, Augustine found in the place of Milan and in the person of Ambrose a new certainty. Like Clement and Origen before him, he became fascinated with Christian Neo-Platonism. Perhaps the most distinctive element of this school of thought on Augustine was a supreme confidence in the intellect and reason above all other things. It was what was internal and intangible that mattered more than what was external and physical, as we see in the following passage from the Confessions: 'I was admonished by all this to return to my own self, and, with you [i.e. God] to guide me, I entered into the innermost part of myself, and I was able to do this because you were my helper ...' Around this time Augustine made the decision to become celibate. In fact, a strong conviction of the sinfulness of his own sexuality was an important part of Augustine's conversion to Christianity in the first place, as he learned from Pontician of a monastic life of poverty and chastity. Later, Augustine tells us that the Word of God spoke to him clearly: '... make no provision for the flesh' (Romans 13:14). The die was cast! His concubine left him, he despised his mother's ambitions for him to 'marry well' and he began to lament the sexual excesses of his wasted youth (Confessions 7.17.23). Altogether, it had been a remarkable transformation of thought, devotion and practice.
Exactly how important was Augustine's contribution to the early Church's teaching on sexual ethics? In answering that question, one needs to be aware of the strong tendency among many contemporary revisionist historians of neo-Celtic or post-modernist schools to view Augustine as something of a 'bogey man ... blamed for giving Western Christianity its obsession with sin and guilt'. If one may be at liberty to paraphrase such scholars, the argument can be summarised briefly thus: Augustine had an enormous amount of guilt arising from his personal sex life and he attempted to transfer this guilt about physical activities in general and sexual exploits in particular onto the whole Church. Or, in the prosaic sentiment of Michael Riddell, 'For all the majesty of Augustine, one wishes his sexual anguish had remained his private affair.' Such a view clearly has a good deal going for it. Certainly Augustine was extremely concerned about sexual sin. In his own life he consciously moved in a largely all-male world. He did not allow even his own female relatives to enter the bishop's palace and he was known to have expelled a young clergyman who had been found speaking with a nun 'at an inappropriate time of the day'.
Yet, it is too simplistic to regard Augustine altogether in this way and one must resist the tendency so to do, no matter how convenient it may seem. In probably the most learned commentary on Augustine's sexual thought, Peter Brown makes a detailed argument to suggest that Augustine was considerably less concerned about sexual sins and celibacy than some of his lesser-known Italian contemporaries. Rather, Augustine was concerned in the largely culturally conservative African backwater of Hippo about such mundane matters as death and martyrdom and the inherent goodness (or otherwise) of the whole of life. Sexual sin was not necessarily the sin, nor was it the cause of the Fall. Unlike his early church predecessors, Augustine firmly believed that Adam and Eve would have had children, even if they had remained in Paradise. For Augustine, marriage was good and so was sexual continence, but both the married and the unmarried would have to continue to deal with their passions. And that was a daily battle.
Perhaps the more pressing critique of Augustine is that he was unable to perfect what he himself preached. In spite of this, it was the belief that the will was superior to the flesh, so indicative of all the early church fathers, that was to be the contribution to theological posterity. Such a cerebral view of religion had rather an ambivalent attitude concerning the body, being influenced by the prevailing philosophical and theological views of the time. It was a stance poles apart from a Celtic world-view where the immanence of God in all of the practical details of life was taken for granted, a sign that most natural things were inherently good. It is surely no coincidence that one of Augustine's chief theological antagonists was, perhaps, an Irish Celt, Pelagius, who was described somewhat dismissively by Jerome as 'a most stupid fellow, heavy with Irish porridge'.
(Continues...)
Excerpted from BEING SINGLE IN THE CHURCH TODAY by PHILIP WILSON. Copyright © 2006 Morehouse Publishing. Excerpted by permission of Church Publishing, Incorporated.
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Table of Contents
Contents
Foreword by Dr John Drane,Introduction,
1. Rivers and Rituals,
2. Sexuality and Secularism,
3. The Participants,
4. Loneliness, Dating and Sexuality,
5. Single People and the Church,
6. The Challenge of Singleness,
7. The Challenge to the Church,
Appendices,
1. Marital Condition (De Jure): Population in the UK,
2. Questions Asked During Interviews,
Notes,
Bibliography,
Index,