John
21.19b-24
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Today is the feast of St. John the Divine.
St.
John is believed to be the author not
only of the Gospel bearing his name, but three epistles we find in the New Testament,
AND the book of Revelation.
Now,
I’ll be honest. I had never really
considered St. John much before.
Of
course, I knew his story.
Jesus’
“beloved disciple,” the one who remained with him until the very end, standing
at the foot of the cross, comforting Jesus’ mother.
I
knew it was to him that Jesus commended his mother as he died—an important act
in that time and place, wherein a woman without a male protector of some sort
would have been a non-entity.
But
recently, I started wondering about who St. John the Divine actually was.
And
my interest was especially piqued by the traditional view the Church has taken
of him.
There
is a very interesting view of St. John that the Church has traditionally taken.
We
get a clue of this from the traditional antiphons for Morning Prayer on his
feast day.
The
first antiphon for this feast day goes like this:
“John,
the apostle, an evangelist, a virgin chosen by the Lord, was loved by the Lord
above all others.”
And
the second one is this:
“To
the virgin John, Christ, dying on the cross, entrusted his virgin mother.”
Those
antiphons no doubt jar us a bit.
This
is not language we use very often anymore.
It
seems so antiquated.
That
word, “virgin,” is an especially strange one outside of the usual Church context
we have—the Blessed Virgin Mary.
Of
course the word “virgin” packs so much (mostly negative) meaning in our age.
But
we have to understand that in earlier generations, a virgin would often just be
defined as someone who eschewed sex for whatever reasons.
Or
maybe even just a young, innocent person.
In
our own day this has taken on even deeper meaning.
“Virgin”
as a term is often seen as archaic or even misogynistic, since it is almost
used in reference to women.
It
is a term that is now often synonymous with sexual repression and
frigidity.
But
in the Church that was not necessarily how the word was understood.
At our Wednesday night masses at St. Stephen’s, we often commemorate one of the heroic
“virgin-martyrs” of the Church.
These
were young women who refused to follow the accepted role they had in society; essentially
to marry, or to be given in marriage to men they had no real desire for.
For
them, “virginity” was simply a symbol of their commitment to Jesus, and an eschewing
of society and all that was expected of them as women.
As
I have always seen then, these women were pretty radical and amazingly independent
and fierce.
For
us, though, these words don’t quite have the same meaning.
Terms
we use now are words like “chastity” and “celibacy.”
Of
course, we all know that in the Church celibacy (a refraining from sexual
activity) is not seen as bad thing by any sense of the word.
It
is seen as something that is commended and even encouraged among unmarried
Christians.
But
celibacy can also be seen as restrictive and coercive.
In
recent years, the Roman Catholic Church and other denominations have promoted
celibacy as the only “viable” option for gay and lesbian Christians.
In
this case, celibacy is not a choice, but rather something that is forced upon
individuals because of their sexual orientations.
As
you know, I am of the firm conviction that celibacy should be a choice one
makes on one’s self (hopefully through prayer and reflection) and not something
that should be forced upon them.
Celibacy
can be seen as something positive.
In
my own upbringing, both when I was a teenager longing to be a Roman Catholic priest and even later in the Anglo-Catholic tradition of the
Episcopal Church, celibacy was as an important aspect for ordained ministry.
For
example, in 1999, when I first went before the Bishop of the Diocese, a bishop who was known for his adamant opposition to homosexuality in
the Church, he made very clear to me that, as an unmarried aspirant for
ordination, I was to remain celibate.
He
never asked if I was gay or straight.
He
just said this was the way it was if I wanted to be ordained in the diocese.
“No
sex outside of marriage” (which was, of course, then recognized at that time in the Episcopal
Diocese of North Dakota as only between a man and a woman.)
Despite
all the political aspects of that connotation, I actually had no issue with remaining
celibate so I very willingly went along with the rule of the day.
After
all, for my entire teenage and adult life, I always said (only half-jokingly)
that I was a “natural celibate.”
(More
on all of that in moment)
But
I do need to repeat something: despite my own “natural celibacy,” I want to be
clear that celibacy is, by definition, a choice
one makes to refrain from sex.
And
there have been many great leaders in the Church who have chosen this route.
Who
knows?
Possibly
St. John the Divine was celibate.
We’re
pretty certain St. Paul the Apostle was celibate.
However,
over the last 20 years or so, a movement has been at work especially in the
United States.
Essentially
beginning in about 2000 with a young man named David Jay, the so-called Asexual
movement has grown and flourished among the small percentage of people who identify
as Asexual.
Now
for many of us, the term “asexual” is a strange one.
The
first time I heard it, I thought of asexual reproduction.
I
thought of something essentially meaning genderless. However, asexuality,
according to the website for the online community David Jay founded, The Asexuality
Visibility and Education Network (or AVEN), is defined as such:
“An asexual person does not
experience sexual attraction – they are not drawn to people sexually and do not
desire to act upon attraction to others in a sexual way. Unlike celibacy, which
is a choice to abstain from sexual activity, asexuality is an intrinsic part of
who we are, just like other sexual orientations. Asexuality does not make our
lives any worse or better; we just face a different set of needs and challenges
than most sexual people do. There is considerable diversity among the asexual
community in the needs and experiences often associated with sexuality
including relationships, attraction, and arousal.”
(https://www.asexuality.org/?q=overview.html)
So,
unlike celibacy, asexuality is not a choice.
It
is a sexual orientation, just as straight or gay or bi or Trans are seen as
sexual orientations.
Unlike
celibacy, it is not something one chooses in one’s life. One simply is.
There
are of course many layers and nuances to what it means to be asexual, but these
are basics.
Which
brings us back to my own story.
Over
the last few years or so, I too have found myself learning more and more about
asexuality and have realized, after much personal struggle, that I too am
asexual.
Back
in my teenage years, the Priesthood and its promise of celibacy was a wonderful
relief for me from all the peer pressure to date and form romantic relationships.
The
fact is that I never had any desire to date be in any kind of romantic
relationship with anyone.
Later,
when conservative leadership in the Church expected celibacy for unmarried clergy was the norm, it was the easiest
way for me to explain to people why I didn’t date and why I had no interest in
being in a relationship.
Only
after I studied and learned about asexuality and how distinct it is from
celibacy, was I fully able to recognize that my “natural celibacy” was, in
fact, asexuality.
And
when I realized that I was asexual, I have to say I felt a huge weight lift
from my shoulders.
The
only way to describe how right it felt was to say that it felt like putting on
a comfortable sweater that fits just right.
So,
for me, when I read about St. John, this beloved disciple of Jesus, I am able
to
see in him a kind of patron saint of asexual (or “Ace” as the popular term
now used) people like myself.
It’s
important to stress that being asexual does not mean that an Ace person cannot
feel real intimacy with another person.
Which
brings us back to dear St. John.
As
we have established, yes, St. John was probably celibate.
But
could St. John have been asexual?
I
think that is very much a real possibility.
I
also think it is a very real possibility that St. Paul himself was probably
asexual as well.
Celibacy
in Judaism at that time, as it is even now, is something alien to a culture and
religion that is primed to be “fruitful and multiply” so that the religion and
race can flourish.
So,
for a Jewish male to remain single was unique, to say the least
So,
no doubt, it was strange for those early Christians to hear St. Paul himself write in his First Letter to
Corinthians:
“To the unmarried and the widows I say that it is well for them to
remain unmarried as I am.”
And
some people, especially myself, could definitely interpret Jesus’ statement in
Matthew Chapter 19 as something very meaningful to their own struggle:
“For there are eunuchs who have been so from birth, and there are
eunuchs who have been made eunuchs by others, and there are eunuchs who have
made themselves eunuchs for the sake of the kingdom of heaven. Let anyone
accept this who can.”
For
me, personally I have pondered this scripture many times since I came to the
realization that I am asexual.
I
definitely see it anew through this new lens.
In
fact, when I was discussing this all with my friend Jordan on Christmas day, he
made the observation that he believed Jesus himself may have been asexual.
I
have not had time to ponder or process that, but it did open my eyes in a new
way to who Jesus was on this earth.
But
I will definitely be wrestling with this idea in the future no doubt.
For
now, seeing scripture through this new lens has opened it up to me in so many
ways.
In
fact, I see the whole concept of eunuchs in scripture anew as I look it as an
asexual person.
Similar
to our understanding of the term “virgin” in scripture, so we can have a new understanding
of eunuchs in scripture as well.
Eunuchs
are not necessarily seen as just men who were physically castrated (which was
very much a reality in Jesus’ world).
Eunuchs
can also be seen as a person who simply not interested ins ex for whatever
reasons.
Our
new understanding of eunuchs in scripture helps us to realize that eunuchs were
definitely one of the first recognized sexual minorities.
And
in this way, asexual people, as well as a gay, lesbian, bisexual and transgender
people, also relate, no doubt.
But
this scripture from Matthew speaks loudly to me and no doubt to other Ace
people.
For
us, we can hear Jesus saying to us, Some are without sexual desire, some are
simply made that way, and some renounce sex for the Kingdom of heaven.
What
many asexual people hear in this scripture is an affirmation of who we are.
And
we hear from Jesus himself that we are not broken, that there is not something
inherently wrong with us, as so many sexual people have felt.
As
I myself so many times thought.
Which
brings us back once again to St. John.
I
have also found myself pondering over that passage in today’s reading from St.
John’s Gospel:
“Peter
turned and saw the disciple whom Jesus loved following them; he was the one who
had reclined next to Jesus at the supper…”
The
beauty of this intimate action of St. John’s is that it is an action we ourselves
should be imitating.
St
Bonaventure said, “There [in that moment] our Lord fed [St. John] on the mysteries
of his Divine wisdom, abundantly, uniquely, wholesomely, profitably.”
We,
like St. John, should also be fed abundantly, uniquely, wholesomely, and profitably.
We
should find our consolation, our joy, our absolutely gladness in that place,
reclining alongside Jesus.
And
more than just reclining.
We
too should find ourselves in that place of complete trust.
We
too should lay our heads—full of our sorrows, our troubles, our pains, our
angers, our fears—we should lay our muddled heads against the breast of Jesus
that contains his love-filled Heart.
There,
in that place so near to the source of his love, acceptance and affection, we
should find our shelter, our refreshment, the place we have longed to be
spiritually and actually.
All
of us can experience this love, no matter who we are.
That
is the truly liberating aspect of Jesus’ love for us.
Each
of us is loved just as John is loved.
Each
of us is the “beloved one” of Jesus, no matter if we are asexual, straight,
gay, trans, non-binary or whatever.
That
love he feels for us is just as intimate and beautiful and life-altering as it
was for John.
St.
John truly is the model saint for all of us, not just the 1% of the population
who are asexual.
Like
him, we too should strive to be the one Jesus loves.
That
love should be the only goal in our lives.
Let
us pray.
Holy
God, you blessed your Son’s life on this earth with loved ones who cared for
him; bless us also with friends who love us and care for us. And help us to
embrace who we are in this world—whether as gay or straight, bisexual,
transgender or asexual—so that we may bless you and this world in which we live
with our authentic selves; and in doing so may be see ourselves as beloved in
your sight; in the name of Jesus our Beloved savior, on whose breast we long to
lay our heads. Amen.
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