FSG: Faith, Sexuality and Gender

On the margins of orthodoxy

Twenty years of struggle and twenty years of faith 10 August 2009

Yesterday marked the 20th anniversary of the start of my journey in faith. On that day, a quite remarkable event – experienced as an immediate answer to prayer – gave me the gift of faith: instantly, like a light being switched on. It’s not my intention to tell that story here. Rather, I wish to write about the way in which my faith journey, right from its inception, has been intertwined with a struggle to understand and come to terms with my sexuality and gender identity. I’ve discussed these before in this blog: bisexual and androgynous (psychologically both male and female).

It would be wrong for the reader to suppose that, before becoming a Christian, I was not in conflict over my sexuality and wavering gender identity, and that becoming a Christian suddenly made all of that turn awkward and guilt-laden. Nor is it the case, simply, that my faith has healed internal divisions and guilt complexes I had about sexuality and gender prior to my faith awakening.

It is, however, true that it was the light of faith that first enabled me to shine a light of understanding, acceptance and love on myself as I really am, and as different from the person I had tried to be during the first, non-believing, part of my life. During those 26 years – well, at least since puberty – I had unquestioningly assumed I was straight; though not without the occasional momentary stirring of desire for those of my own sex (male), whether real persons glimpsed in the street or images in the media. As I explored and deepened my faith, and undertook what was literally referred to as a ‘Journey in Faith’ (a six-month course of instruction in the faith at my local Catholic Church), it soon became apparent to me that there were issues of sexuality and gender in myself that I needed to confront if my faith commitment as a would-be Catholic was going to be completely honest and whole-hearted: Catholic faith should not become a superstructure justifying me in continuing to deny my sexuality and gender identity, indeed reinforcing that repression.

For me, the dynamic that always seems to have been most creative is acceptance of particular truths about myself (e.g. bisexuality) coupled with a resolution in faith not to express my sexuality in a way that conflicts with the Church’s teaching. Indeed, even before my dramatic conversion experience, as I was earnestly seeking some way in which I could embrace and experience faith, I came to the conclusion that Christian faith might require me to be celibate – although I am not sure whether or how I linked up this thought to my sexuality, as I did not think of myself as bisexual or gay at that point, at least not consciously. Then, during the two months before I was due to be received into the Church at Easter, I experienced a remarkable period of growing in my life of prayer, devotion and understanding of the sacraments, in which I felt God was very close to me, accompanying me step by step, and providing numerous visible signs that he was guiding my thoughts, actions and enquiry. But this phase was initiated by my finally coming to the realisation that I was bisexual and, at the same time, resolving to be celibate.

Again, I am not quite sure why I made the equation: Christian faith + bisexuality = celibacy; as, if you are bisexual, the route of Christian marriage is still open to you. But as those two months progressed, I felt God was calling me not just to the Catholic Church but to priesthood, which of course requires celibacy whether the priest in question is straight or gay. It’s not the case – again, at least not consciously – that I had the idea of priesthood at the time that I made the resolution of celibacy. Indeed, the very idea of becoming a Catholic priest was completely alien to me at the start of February 1990: it had never occurred to me throughout my entire life, and certainly not even in the six months since my conversion experience. But by the time I was finally received into the Church, this had become almost a firm decision, which illustrates how far I travelled during those two amazing months.

Those of a secular, psychoanalytical disposition would doubtless argue that, in making my choice for celibacy and then embracing an institution that views such a resolution as a holy sacrifice for the service of Christ, I was indeed doing what I had determined not to do: taking flight from the uncomfortable truth of bisexuality into a superstructure that reinforced my denial of it. But such a description would simply not be true to the way I experienced things. There was much more of a unity about my inner transformation: a real, powerful encounter with the love of God that inspired me to want to dedicate my whole life and self to him, and which finally empowered me to accept my sexuality and mixed(-up) gender identity: faith commitment and acceptance, not rejection, of bisexuality and gender confusion inextricably linked with one another.

In any case, I did not eventually go on to put myself forward for the priesthood. Instead, shortly after my reception into the Church, I began an intense and loving relationship with a woman that has continued to this day. However, this relationship has also been unconventional: not sexual, in the biblical sense (or, practically, in any sense for much of the time), so that in effect I have remained ‘celibate’ for over 20 years, if not always chaste. I have also remained ‘faithful’ to my ‘partner’ for all of this time; meaning that I have not actively expressed the gay and transgender aspects of my personality, at least not with other people. Meanwhile, this freely embraced celibacy and sexual renunciation has given me the ‘freedom’ to continue my inner explorations both of faith and sexuality / gender, although my relationship has also at times created a painful and repressive context for both these journeys. My partner would prefer me to be straight and uncomplicated, in both areas. So, out of love for my partner, I have had to perpetuate an outward persona of being straight and unambiguously masculine, maintained in front of friends, family, church (but not in the confessional) and work colleagues. Similarly, through the joint effect of mistakes I made and traumatic experiences in my partner’s own earlier life, the combination of my ardent convert’s Catholicism and mixed-up psychosexuality became simply unbearable to her, and I’ve had to step back somewhat from my faith commitment, though not renounce it as a) I could not, and b) my partner is also a Christian.

So I’ve effectively become a ‘non-practising’ Catholic, in both senses of the word ‘practising’. But neither has my renunciation of active bisexuality and transgenderism been the consequence of a naïve embracing of a sexually repressive, homophobic Catholicism; nor has my abandonment (for now) of a priestly vocation and passionate life of Catholic devotion been the direct result of my own inner conflicts over sexuality and gender. Rather, I’ve continued to grow in both areas – faith and self-understanding – while actively pursuing neither of these sides of my life and personality as fully as I might have wished.

What lessons, if any, would I draw from my experience that might be of help to others? If anything, I would want to emphasise the distinction between self-love (coming to love oneself through the encounter with God’s love) and the secular obsession with self-expression and self-fulfilment. The fact that God loves us as we are (straight, gay, bisexual, transgender, transsexual, or whatever) does not mean that we have to express those particular aspects of our personality in a narrow, active, physical way, as if anything other than doing so means that we have not fully embraced and accepted those characteristics. In fact, the opposite is true: if you feel you have to express your homosexuality, for instance in active gay relationships, in order to feel liberated from sexual repression and unhealthy self-denial, then you are actually still being driven by unacknowledged sexual guilt and by a compulsive surrender to your sex drive. That is not a path that of itself is conducive either of more authentic and deeper self-love and self-understanding, nor of growth in one’s ability to give and receive love, including to and from God. Sexual ‘liberation’ can be just as much of a dominating, life-limiting experience as sexual repression.

By contrast, the love of Christ, if it truly penetrates your heart, frees you to live by a greater principle than the secular imperative of self-realisation. This is love of self not for the sake of your self but for the sake of love: God’s love that extends equally and beyond measure to all persons and all creation, and in which you are called to go beyond yourself – no longer focused on selfish concerns but on God’s loving will to be realised through self-surrender to him and to love. In other words, self-love in the love of God frees you to live for that love without regard to self. If it is God’s love that has enabled you to accept yourself – as bisexual and androgynous, in my case – then there is no longer any need to act out those facets of your personality, and so be bound by them, to prove to yourself and others that they are acceptable and lovable, because you know that God loves you as you are and you are freed to love him in return.

So much for the theory; but in practice, things are always more difficult and less perfect, as my thwarted faith aspirations and at times frustrated emotional life demonstrate. The pull of sexuality, of ‘the flesh’, remains strong. But if, after succumbing to physical desires that are not of the love of God, you turn to Christ confident in his loving mercy, he will show you that he loves you none the less for your weaknesses – if not in fact more. And this is why I find Christian movements that try to ‘convert’ gay people ‘back’ into a straight orientation and lifestyle highly disturbing if not actually blasphemous. It is the very encounter with the love of God that helped me to see and love myself as bisexual and transgender. To turn away from that and deny it, supposedly in the name of Christ, would actually be to reject God’s gift of love, and the ability he has given me to love myself. But loving myself does not mean indulging myself and leading a life ‘orientated’ towards the fulfilment of every aspect of myself, including gay and transgender behaviour. True love, and the proof of authentic Christian living regardless of self (and this in fact means regardless of sexual orientation and gender identity), means renouncing oneself and dedicating oneself to God’s love and service for its and his own sake. Being overly wrapped up in trying to create a life and persona for oneself as ‘straight’ or as gay in fact implies more attachment to self: taking one’s attention away from God and on to self. Whereas I know that God loves me both as I am (flawed and bound to the flesh) and for what I am to become in him.

So my life is not without struggle and inner conflict. I’ve had twenty years of it. But I’ve also had twenty years of faith, by the grace of God. And long may I continue to struggle and to grow in that faith.


Gay Sex and Vocation 9 May 2008

Hitherto, I’ve tended to the view that an active gay sex life is not consistent with, or cannot be considered an integral part of, a – or the – Christian calling. That’s gay sexual activity, as opposed to homosexuality (or bisexuality, or transgendered-ness) itself. By contrast, in a very thought-provoking post, Anita Cadonau-Huseby makes a powerful case for considering that a person’s homosexuality (or sexuality and gender identity of any sort) is indeed a / their holy vocation and divine calling. On one level, I wholeheartedly agree with this view: if one genuinely is gay, or in my case bisexual and transgender, then this is how God intended you to be – what he is calling you to be as part of his calling of you into being through his Word of creation.

Where I worry about this is the way it conflates two meanings of ‘vocation’: 1) what God’s purpose was in creating you (he made you as a gay person, by design and not by accident); 2) what God is calling you to, and calling you to become, as part of your new life in Christ: the life of the Spirit, of faith and of service. I have no problem whatsoever with the former meaning. But can God be said to be calling gay persons to assume their gayness as a gift of the Spirit, as part of their very Christian charism, when he first calls them to become his followers and share in the life of grace? Gayness may well be a gift of God in a similar way as our bodies, minds and very life are his gifts; but are these things, and therefore gayness too, also correctly described as gifts of the Spirit in the same way, for instance, as the gifts of healing, teaching, praise or prayer?

Are these merely semantic distinctions? Is it legitimate for us, in this all-too human way, to separate out what constitutes a gift of Creation (our bodies or our gayness) and what constitutes a gift of Grace? In Christ, and in our sharing in the life of Christ through the Spirit, these aspects of our humanity and his divinity are united. How can we make a distinction between our old selves – including our homosexuality – and our new selves, reborn in Christ, when our witness to Christ can be true only when it engages all that is true and distinctive about ourselves as human beings, which cannot but include our sexuality? As gay, bisexual and / or transgender, if we do not bear witness to our sexuality and gender identity, can we still be true to our vocation and be a reliable witness to Christ?

And yet, it is nonetheless legitimate to ask: are our sexualities and gender identities themselves graces; or are they not rather just part of our nature as mortal, fleshly, flawed and sinful human beings, which God still chooses to inhabit in the love of Christ and the life of the Spirit; and which he uses as the instrument of his grace to others who are seeking him – manifesting the truth that he loves us and dwells within us no matter who or what we are?

If this is so, why then should it matter whether we choose to consider that gay sexual acts are sinful or not if, notwithstanding these, God still loves us unconditionally, and still works in us and through us to spread the life of his Kingdom? But it is important to know what sin is. This is because sin is that which attacks and potentially destroys the life of Christ within us, and diminishes our ability to hear God’s call, to seek his will, and to commit ourselves to following it completely.

By why should gay sex in particular be considered sinful, even in the context, say, of a loving, monogamous union between two Christians of the same sex, who see their sex life as a celebration and expression of their love, and as therefore affirming and manifesting the love of Christ for and in each one of them? Can it be seen as a vocation for two such people to ‘consecrate’ their love for each other in this way, just as conjugal sex is usually seen as validating and manifesting the union in Christ of a husband and wife – Christian marriage being traditionally conceived of as a calling? God may call gay people to be gay; but does this mean he calls them to gay sex? Does an affirmation of one’s gayness always have to involve the affirmation of one’s sex life? Does God’s creation of gay people as gay provide moral justification for gay sex – exclusively, or merely preferentially, within monogamous relationships having the character of a marriage?

So many questions. Who can be confident of knowing all the answers? (There’s another one!) My own view: that an active gay sex life cannot be an intrinsic part of the Christian vocation of a gay person. This is in contrast to heterosexual sex – but, in the Catholic view, only one particular type of heterosexual sex; not heterosexual sex of any and every kind – which is an intrinsic part of the vocation to sacramental marriage. Nor is gayness in itself a gift of the Spirit in Christ. Homosexuality (and bisexuality, and transgendered-ness) is part of our old life, our fallen nature; but so is heterosexuality and, therefore, all sexuality and gendered life. These things are signs of our continuing dependency and attachment to this mortal life and to our carnal bodies; to individuation, and to identification with and attraction for only part of the human totality; to division and incompletion in our lives and in ourselves. And, in its very incompleteness, transitoriness, and diversity of form and expression (loving and unloving; promising lifelong fidelity and failing to live up to it), sex is a manifestation of the fact that man and woman have not yet, in this life, attained the perfect unity and reconciliation that is in Christ.

But by the same token, while all sexual desire – gay or straight – holds within it the potential to fail to consummate the perfect (marital) union of man and woman, male and female, in Christ in whom / which, and in whose image, all human life is created; yet, at the same time – when lived as an expression of true, Christian love – desire and sex are always offered as a prayer for perfect union and, thereby, an act of praise of the human heart whose longing for Christ is inseparable from its bodily desire for another.

Not a perfect love: sinful, therefore – the love of sinners. But, in that, so very human; and so very much in the image of Christ: the lover of sinners.


Cambridge 1-2 Stafford, 12 April 2008 13 April 2008

Filed under: Cambridge,desire,love,poetry,Stafford — John @ 4:00 am

Cambridge 1-2 Stafford, 12 April 2008

I’d remembered the date:

Double it to get my birthday

One month before.

I hadn’t sent an email –

The day before –

And now it was too late:

She wouldn’t get it.

The moment lost.

I thought it must be ‘fate’

When we drove past the gate

Of the football ground

Where the notice stated

The match:

Cambridge United against Stafford.

Several times of late

We’d driven past Stafford,

Myself and Kate,

Travelling fast

Along the motorway.

But I’d not revisited the past.

Who was there to see in Stafford, anyway?

She was no longer there,

Though I might long to see her.

For a fleeting second,

I thought I did

As I left the copy centre

Clutching my niece’s laminated artwork:

Two almost identical, archetypal ladies.

There, across the car park she came;

I thought I caught a look, her style,

But looked away from the couple

And did not allow my gaze

To linger yet awhile.

We two had been a couple, once,

Back in Stafford while

The others slept;

And again,

In London, Paris, Bradford –

Places of my past.

And yes, in Cambridge, too,

Where it started.

So much passion leaves its traces;

But does that mean it lasts?

So many poignant memories;

But does my repeating

Signal love’s demise,

Or chance revival?

I should not wonder so,

I kept saying to myself.

All that is gone,

Long past;

She was wrong

For you, and you for her –

No doubt.

And her affections now lie


No even match.

And yet, I had seen her,

One year or so before;

No chance encounter

But a sneaky rendez-vous –

Almost a tryst –

Back in London.

I had to be duplicitous,

To lie about my Delaye:

Problem of trains missed;

Trouble down the line.

But there was nothing in it,

Was there?

We talked, explained;

And kissed goodbye.

I recoiled from more

And shuttled off back home

To Cambridge.

And she to her newfound love.

She was one of two again,

And what of me?

Of my two, was she the one?

And though I knew the answer,

Still I wondered –

And was I alone in re-evoking

What could have been and never was?

And never was because unspoken,

Even then –

Repeating the missing of my words

That could have summoned her to my present,

Before time and chance slipped past.

We, too, once were united.

Not repeated;

My hopes defeated.

And yet,

Perhaps destiny had intended

Us to be together

For a while, at least

I thought, as I learned the score:

Cambridge United 1 Stafford 2 –

My 1-2 12 April Stafford girl,

Whom another won and made two.

A past united,

Not reignited;


But not a gain.


Can One be Glad to be Bi? 28 March 2008

The bisexual pop musician and now BBC radio presenter Tom Robinson is famous for his campaigning on behalf of gay rights during the 1970s and 1980s, particularly through the anthem ‘Glad to be Gay’, written in 1976. Later, he fell in love with and married a woman, and is now a proud father. Writing of these experiences, and of the vilification to which he was subjected over his straight romance by an unholy alliance of the gay-hating tabloid press and many in the gay-rights movement, Tom states: “I called myself ‘gay’ because ‘bisexual’ seemed a bit of a cop-out”.

I’ve written previously about this tendency of the gay, and particularly the gay-rights, community to dismiss bisexuals as not having the courage of their convictions to simply admit that they’re gay and commit themselves to a more honest gay lifestyle. This may be less the case nowadays than before: ‘LGBT’ (lesbian, gay, bisexual and transgender) is now the order of the day, and campaigns for the rights of the sexually marginalised now seek to be inclusive of the ‘cross-overs’ – the bi’s and the gender-queer.

But is there not still something of an issue about bisexuality, and about the transgendered (but I aim to come on to that subject in subsequent posts)? Bisexuality is not generally celebrated or affirmed as vocally and positively as gayness; and there are very few bisexual role models (despite the substantial Wikipedia list of bisexual musicians linked to above) for young people struggling to come to terms with mixed sexual feelings – arguably more difficult and confusing than less ambiguous gay desire. Indeed, when I went to university, I remember reading in what was somewhat coyly described as the ‘little blue book’ we were all supplied with (a mini-guide to sex, relationships and contraception) that indeed bisexuals often took much longer to come to terms with their sexuality and frequently found it less easy to establish happy sexual relationships as a result.

The years that followed provided ample illustration of the truth of this statement with respect to my own life, even though (or rather, precisely because) I was not able to be fully aware and accepting of my ambiguous sexual orientation until the age of 26! Until then, I’d thought I was straight. Existentially and experientially – in terms of the way I behaved, and responded sexually to women and men – I was straight to all intents and purposes; and I attributed the occasional and increasingly frequent momentary twinges of desire for other men to the Freudian concept of fundamental bisexuality: our latent potential to experience attraction for either sex, which in most cases is never realised (in both senses) because we find a way to adapt to social expectations of heterosexuality.

After I came to realise that my homosexual side represented not just an occasional erratic eruption of this latent universal bisexuality through the protective shell of the largely resilient straight personality I had constructed for myself, but corresponded to more deep-seated emotional needs and character traits, I then spent many more years attempting to work it all out – perpetually vacillating between thinking I was fully gay (and that my recurring heterosexual impulses reflected the continuing strength of the wish to suppress my homosexuality that had led me to believe I was straight in the first place), bisexual, or even in fact straight (when that continuing wish to not embrace my homosexual side really did make it difficult for me to open up to gay desire).

It’s only in fact in the last two or three years that I’ve finally come to fully accept my bisexuality; and this process has coincided with my being to resolve (largely) my inner conflicts regarding my mixed gender identity (both male and female); and between this bisexuality and transgenderism, and my Christian faith. It had in fact been my coming to faith at the age of 26 that had enabled me to accept my mixed sexuality in the first place: the love of God enabling me to love myself, perhaps for the first time, as I truly am. Given that this sexual self-revelation was one of the consequences of my encounter with divine revelation, one might think that I could have spared myself the agony of the years that followed: the sheer power and wonder of God’s love that I experienced at this time should have given me the trust that there was nothing I could do that could make God reject me, and that I would only lose his love if I deliberately and systematically turned my back on him. And yet, life and relationships do not always readily follow the blueprint that one might think was set out for them, and it’s taken me much, much longer to reach a point of relatively serene self-acceptance than it could have done, perhaps, if I were a more trusting person.

Perhaps it’s just middle age! Too late, now, to hurl myself into a life of bisexual promiscuity which, for all my avowed religiosity, never failed to fill my fantasies in the years since my conversion? Perhaps, for faith and for sin, it’s never too late! But it’s beginning to get late for me; and I’ve work to do, including God’s work. When I wanted to, I wasn’t sorted enough to do it; now I’m sorted, I’m setting my sights on his purposes. Perhaps my years of agonising were a sign of God’s mysterious Providence all along.


Providential and Evolutionary Purpose Of Homosexuality 27 March 2008

I’m sure there must be a respectable scientific theory about how homosexuality fits in with the evolutionary world view. My brief web search didn’t throw one up, however; there’s not even a learned article in Wikipedia. On the face of it, homosexuality appears to contradict the theory that we all have an innate interest in breeding in order to perpetuate our genes.

But there are two cultural assumptions in a statement such as this: firstly, that everyone does naturally wish to reproduce; and secondly, that you can draw a neat dividing line between homosexuality and heterosexuality. The theory that we are pre-programmed to try to disseminate our gene pool as widely as possible throughout subsequent generations could be said to exemplify and re-formulate in the modern scientific vernacular the age-old cultural beliefs and values that emphasise the critical importance of having a family – in some cultures (for certain men) several families.

Equally, the view that homosexuality might run counter to the normal functioning of natural selection is already in itself a manifestation of this sort of selection: the assumption is being made that heterosexuals will generally have a preference for heterosexual partners and, similarly, that there will always be a preference for same-sex partners on the part of homosexuals. In this way, inherent in the theory itself, there is a sort of ‘de-selecting’ of homosexuality from the description of normative ‘natural selection’, and a preferential selecting of heterosexuality as the type of sexuality that best fits the theory and the cultural preconceptions about reproduction. Hence, the theory of evolution itself mediates a culturally procreation-centric (’heterosexual’) view of sexuality.

But if the homosexual gene – if such a thing exists – has managed to perpetuate itself over the course of millennia (and recent evidence suggests it’s not about to die out), then either or both of the following propositions must be true: 1) not all sexual attraction, and sexual action, has the urge to reproduce as its core motivation, driver or underlying impulse; 2) homosexuality must have some positive purpose that could be explained in evolutionary terms as being connected with ensuring the survival of the species.

In relation to the first of these propositions, it’s ironic that evolutionary theory and traditional Christian doctrine (so often, but not always accurately, viewed as antagonistic belief systems) are in this respect the strangest of bedfellows. Certainly, the Catholic Church views reproduction as the fundamental natural purpose of the sexual instinct. It is seen as the duty of the Church to ensure that this instinct is expressed within a social, cultural and sacramental context (marriage) which most effectively suppresses that instinct’s innate tendency towards selfishness (the selfish gene) and helps to lead the individual into a more self-giving, loving existence of the kind to which all souls are called in Christ. It is because homosexuality does not – or at least, appears not to – fit this description of the procreative purpose of carnal desire that the Church refers to it as unnatural or disordered.

But you could look at this differently. It’s possible to view the sexual / reproductive instinct as expressed in conventional marriage as in fact being a rather selfish way of life: a life that places the satisfaction of the sex drive and the urge to reproduce at its very centre, albeit that the tendency of this instinct towards anarchic selfishness is restrained. Having a family is obviously a huge responsibility and a tremendously challenging task. But it’s also fundamentally what people choose to do for themselves; and it naturally involves putting themselves and their families first with respect to their needs, comfort and protection.

By contrast, gay sexuality could be seen as beginning to enact a movement away from selfish / reproductive desire towards love as the primary motivation for choosing to be with someone. Let’s say, rather, that gay sex – freed from the instinctual selfishness of the reproductive instinct but also from the social restraints upon free-flowing sexuality – tends to veer towards the extremes of either stable, loving, faithful relationships that are often more enduring than marriages; or else towards a self-centred, loveless, promiscuous way of life. Either way, homosexuality appears to be a form of sexuality that resists a description as being fundamentally concerned with reproduction and genetic self-replication. In Christian terms, one might say that homosexuality inherently implies a call to a higher love even than that which is expressed in Christian marriage: love for its own sake, distinct from the drive to reproduce, albeit only perfectly expressed in celibacy.

If homosexuality implies a natural tendency or spiritual calling towards altruistic love, perhaps this helps to explain why some heterosexuals are attracted to homosexuals; or – looking at it in evolutionary terms – why homosexuality might be a characteristic that it could be in the genetic self-interest of the individual or the species to perpetuate. It’s certainly an observable phenomenon that there are many women who are attracted to gay men: those that they know to be gay as well as those they don’t. I’m not sure whether the reverse phenomenon is equally as frequent: straight men being attracted to lesbians. The male sexual fantasy of lesbian sex is a well known cliché; but this is rather different from actual attraction or otherwise towards Lesbian women in the real world.

But as far as women being attracted to gay men is concerned, it’s not unknown for this to result in marriages and children – whether the gay man later comes out and the marriage breaks up, or not. Some of the men involved in such scenarios must deliberately suppress their homosexual leanings (in the sense both of not discussing them and of actually succeeding, if only temporarily, in denying them and displacing them onto attraction for their wives) in order to fulfil their own instinctual drive and desire to have children. Others may not be aware of their gay side and this surfaces only later – after the man has fulfilled his urge to reproduce.

This may sound somewhat fanciful. But there are many examples of this sort of situation, including in the Church: one thinks of the much-maligned Anglican Bishop of New Jersey, for instance. I know from my own experience that it’s possible to be largely unaware of one’s homosexuality for part of one’s adult life. When I was in that condition, I had a relationship with a woman (who, incidentally, definitely appears to have an inveterate tendency to be attracted to gay and / or feminine men) that might well have resulted in children. And I strongly suspect – again, partly based on personal experience – that the phenomenon of men who are less able to suppress their gay side after having raised a family is much more extensive than is commonly thought: still a largely hidden issue, as the men concerned very often continue to hide their homosexuality from their partners and families.

Looking at this from the perspective of natural selection, what interest do homophile women have in choosing gay men as the fathers of their children? Firstly, following my arguments above, gay men may well be perceived by such women as less selfish and aggressive in pursuing their own reproductive agenda: less alpha-male-like and, by that token, less likely to be unfaithful, misogynistic or exploitative – seeing women as mere brood mares. Secondly, if gay men are perceived as being more feminine than heterosexual / alpha males, women might choose this characteristic as it makes it more likely for their own feminine traits / genes to prosper and be reproduced in subsequent generations. This does not necessarily run counter to the interests of species survival, as femininity in men is not to be confused with homosexuality: gay men are often feminine but not all feminine men are gay. Therefore, when a woman chooses a gay partner, she might be choosing him for his feminine / female-friendly characteristics which, even if her partner subsequently turns out to be gay, could result in sons and grandsons who carry the feminine genes without the gayness.

In a more general sense, these scenarios suggest that unselfishness and a relative absence of procreative drive could in fact be genetic characteristics that it might be just as important to perpetuate through the generations as the self-replicating selfish gene. The perpetuation of homosexual characteristics may be one way in which humanity resists and mitigates the effects of instinctual selfishness, which has such potential to be a force for destruction in the world. Equally, it is far from clear that the alpha-male drive to spore as many offspring as possible from as many women as possible is a very desirable trait in an over-populated world where the human race appears not to have too many problems in multiplying.

It strikes me as ironic, for instance, that a country like China goes to enormous lengths to keep its population level down with policies such as one child per couple (to the extent of carrying out forcible abortions of subsequently conceived offspring), while at the same time it has a rather repressive attitude towards homosexuality. Perhaps it would be better to let men with homosexual leanings freely express their gayness, rather than applying cultural pressure on them to sire a male heir, resulting in the killing of unwanted female foetuses or, on occasions, of actual baby girls. This could be seen as an example of a culture that has traditionally sought to foster the alpha male, while at the same time, this has created a population crisis resulting in desperate and immoral measures of control.

Equally, this example suggests another way in which homosexuality could be said to serve a positive purpose with respect to species survival; and in this respect, one could say that gay men are complementary to alpha males. If a certain proportion of the population is gay, this increases the ratio of heterosexual men to women who are seeking prospective fathers for their children. This makes it easier for men to find prospective mothers and, in the case of the inveterate alpha male, multiple mothers for their children. Equally, a reduction in the number of men chasing the available ‘breeding stock’ of women could be said to reduce the probability of conflict between rival men, which might otherwise – in extreme cases – even result in the deaths of some of the alpha males. This is perhaps another example of where homosexuality can be seen as serving a ‘vocation’ to reduce the overall levels of aggression in society and to mitigate the destructiveness of the reproductive instinct.

To what extent do these evolutionary benefits of homosexuality really correspond to a vocation, and can they be said to have a providential purpose? From a Christian point of view, any real human and social benefit must be seen as an expression of divine Providence: a manifestation of God’s presence and action in the world. If you accept that the benefits from homosexuality I have discussed are indeed real, then it follows that Christians must see them as providential. This does not mean that homosexuality per se must be seen as morally good. Like many aspects of human life, it is morally neutral, and it will be judged, ultimately, in relation to how each gay or bisexual individual chose to live out their calling: as a person with homosexual tendencies and as a person made in the image of Christ.

But the fact that, to some extent, homosexuality places the individual outside the human thrall to the reproductive drive (at least, in its more obvious, selfish manifestations) is at least a reminder that we are all called to a love that transcends our own personal and, indeed, familial needs and ambitions. It also acts as a corrective to the narrower understanding of human evolution, in that it suggests that sometimes it is not always the selfish gene that prospers.

(Originally posted on http://btcp.wordpress.com on 7 August 2007.)


Christian Condemnation Of Homosexuality

I have to begin by stating that I actually agree with the (Catholic) Church’s teaching on homosexuality: that while it is not sinful to be gay, gay sexual desires and acts are sinful. But then you have to be clear about what you think sin actually is, and what you judge to be ‘gay desire’ as such (see previous blog entry). For myself, I certainly don’t agree that all gay sex is equally sinful or constitutes ‘mortal sin’.

The most important factor is the quality of the relationship of which the sex is just a part. If the sex occurs as part of a truly loving, faithful, monogamous gay relationship, this is arguably a lot less sinful than, say, adultery on the part of straight persons or indeed any kind of promiscuous, loveless sex, straight or gay. If the degree of sinfulness corresponds to the extent to which God can be said to be present or absent from our actions, then God is – I believe – more present in the hearts of a loving gay couple as they express their feelings and commitment in a sexual way than it is in the hearts of a man and woman who are just using each other for sexual gratification.

But then the heart of the issue, from the ethical point of view, is whether one is prepared to tolerate the presence of any amount or degree of sin: whether tolerance of a ‘less sinful but still somewhat sinful’ life is acceptable. Sin is, after all, an absolute even if present in our actions to a variable extent. Our guides in this, alongside scripture and Church teaching, are our hearts and conscience. If fighting against the sin of any particular desire or attachment involves destroying a love that could prosper without damaging others – such as spouses or children that might be affected – are we sure that we are serving the God of love, and enhancing our ability to serve him in the future, more or less in erasing this love from our heart? Of course, not all desires and attachments of a sexual nature are loving.

Many Christians who are more condemning or hostile towards homosexuality try to evade the ethical complexities of these situations and feelings by in fact denying that gay sex and desire could ever truly be the expression of love – although this could lead us into a discussion of the different types and names of love. But this is all a bit facile: it’s very easy to deny and condemn morally the experience and actions of homosexuals if you yourself are not prone to gay desire and affections (because you are straight). There’s not much virtue in resisting a temptation that never arises (if it never does in such people, that is, which is a moot point – see last blog). People who are all too willing to deny that gay relationships are in any way compatible with a true living out of Christian faith should consider whether they would be prepared to undertake the same sacrifices as they expect gay people to make in the service of their faith: to be celibate for the rest of their lives. (Of course, another way round this is to deny that gay people are necessarily ‘condemned’ to being gay for the rest of their lives, and to imagine that they can be cured and ‘restored’ to heterosexuality.) Some people are indeed willing to make this sacrifice – for which God be praised – but I suspect they’re in a small minority.

The mistake that Christians make – and this of course goes back right through Christian history – is to think of homosexuality as being in a radically distinct category from conventional, heterosexual life. I mean this in both the psychological sense discussed in my previous blog (that there is an overlap and crossing over between homosexuality and heterosexuality, for which the bisexual often serves as a stigmatised symbol), and in the ethical sense. Gay sex and desire are just one sin among thousands, as indeed are straight sex and desire in probably most circumstances (i.e. those which transgress – from the Catholic point of view – the teaching that only genital sex between a man and a woman within marriage and without the use of contraception can be considered to be ‘without sin’ – and then is it totally without any sinful component, even so?). And certainly, faithful, loving gay sex comes way down the scale of sinfulness compared with many other sins that turn our world into a vale of sorrows: crimes of abuse and exploitation, sexual or otherwise.

So on one level, we should not tolerate gay sexual sin, just as we should not tolerate any sin; but on another level, we have no choice but to tolerate that sin if we are to be honest about ourselves as sinners. Of course, we must strive to be saints but accept that we are far from being them. So long as our hearts are truly set on love – that is, on Christ – we are heading in the right direction, even if we all take wrong turnings on our way. Some of us – gay or straight – might also be resolved to be celibate and chaste in our hearts; but few of us can truly say we’ve achieved this. God give us grace to go on.

(Originally posted on http://btcp.wordpress.com on 24 July 2007.)


Bisexuality: The Desire Of the Other

Of course, another reason why bisexuality makes people feel uncomfortable (following on from my previous blog entry) is that it calls into question their own sexual orientation – more than homosexuality presents a challenge to heterosexuals, and vice-versa. This is because it confronts people with the idea that sexuality does not consist of polar opposites but is more of a continuum, and moreover one which people can move along at different stages in their life, or from one relationship to the next. This means that their own straight or gay orientation might not be as stable or unambiguous as they would like to think.

The idea of a continuum of sexuality is not new. All the same, my experience has been that straight or gay people will often accept the idea in principle but then always feel the need to specify that they’ve never felt an attraction to anyone of the same or opposite sex respectively! I’m not sure I believe them, but then again, I would say that, wouldn’t I? It all depends what you mean by ‘attraction’, I suppose. Attraction can take place at many different levels, including those of consciousness and the unconscious. Equally, while not all attraction is sexual – in the sense of seeking some form of physical sexual release – it always involves some element of desire.

The disconnect between desire and the physical sexual urge or need (bound up with reproduction) has been well explored by psychoanalysts of the school of Lacan and critical theorists of various hues. And this disconnect can involve a separation and re-combination of the psychological and physical ‘objects’ of desire. For example, a man such as myself can be attracted to other men who combine psychological (personality) and even physical characteristics that I think of as feminine with physical features that I recognise ‘objectively’ as male and masculine. You could call this homosexual desire; but you could also say that the desire as such – the psychological component, at least – is dependent on the object being ‘like a woman’, and that therefore it is also heterosexual. And if homosexuality can be (a little) heterosexual, cannot apparently ordinary heterosexuality not also have a tinge of homosexuality about it? For instance, the need that some men have for women to be exaggeratedly, indeed artificially, feminine (concealing, perhaps, a hidden dread or excitement at the idea that women may be more like men than heterosexual convention accepts)? Or the definite attraction of some men for women with pronounced ‘masculine’ traits of character or physique?

Other-sex and same-sex attraction possibly always expresses the paradox that the other is fantasised as the embodiment of ‘my other’: the other part of myself that is beyond my conscious self-image as a man or woman, as gay or straight – my other half; the one I desire because I do not yet fully possess him or her. Do we perhaps always in this way love in the other an Other self?

We never recapture this unity of the self and the other in this life; our desire is never satisfied; attraction can always surprise us and draw us out. But in Christ I know an Other who both knows me, loves me and is me more deeply, fully and truly than I know and love and am myself. And in him, my desire finds its end.

(Originally posted on http://btcp.wordpress.com on 18 July 2007.)