Article
Comment
Identity
Romance
5 min read

Celibacy, the Pope and the dating app

There’s a desperate need for a new sexual revolution.

David is a postdoctoral research fellow at Oxford University’s Theology and Religion faculty.

An advert on a Underground platform shows a person next to the slogna: Thou shalt not give up on dating and become a nun.
Bumble's controversial ad campaign.

Recent news has sparked a furore over celibacy, and, as I will explain, the need for a new sexual revolution. Feminist theologian, Sarah Coakley, points to in her book, The New Asceticism, points to why we need this new sexual revolution

“the problem with desire is that it has become so heavily sexualised in the modern, post-Freudian period as to render its connection with other desires (including desire for God) obscure and puzzling.”  

A glance at the media on both sides of the Atlantic provides evidence. Senator Tim Scott’s singleness is derided on the US news cycle, and London Underground adverts for dating app Bumble undermined the choice to be a nun or make a vow of celibacy. 

For decades, the bowdlerised notion that Freud saw celibacy as a form of suppression, has created a deeply damaging myth that if you are not having sex, you are not just repressed, you are not even human. In its inaner, but still hurtful forms, if you are celibate, you are not trustworthy, a repressed pervert, or worse, worthy of being socially excluded. Of course, bad celibacy has had terrible results in and outside the Church, but so has bad marriage, and yet we do not treat the married or marriage this way. 

You would expect to turn to the Roman Catholic, Anglican or mainline churches for a nuanced and profound contradiction to a culture obsessed with what they see merely as a ‘lack of sex.’ Instead, the Pope was recently reported to have made the comment that there was already too much “frociaggine” in some seminaries. The Italian word roughly translates as “faggotness”. Matteo Bruni, the director of the Vatican’s press office stated: “As he [the Pope] has stated on more than one occasion, ‘In the Church there is room for everyone, everyone! Nobody is useless or superfluous, there is room for everyone, just the way we are.’” 

“The Pope never meant to offend or to use homophobic language, and apologises to everyone who felt offended [or] hurt by the use of a word,” Mr Bruni concluded in the Vatican statement. 

The Pope has made other comments about celibacy, dissuading gay people from entering the priesthood just on the basis of sexual orientation. It is hard to argue that this is anything but discrimination. If the Pope wanted LGBTQI+ people to inhabit a traditional ethic, then provide a way constructively for them to do so.  

This billboard ad reveals a culture which is erotically moribund and which has lost the fact that love is inevitably sacrificial in nature.

Now to turn to the dating app world, Bumble, aware of the new rise of singleness and celibacy (around 51 per cent of the American population is single), particularly among young women, struck out against this choice with controversial adverts. 

This billboard ad reveals a culture that is erotically moribund and which has lost the fact that love is inevitably sacrificial in nature. My heart sank as I saw this billboard on the Underground. As someone who wrote their doctorate on celibacy, and has chosen to be dedicated to a love greater than sex and marriage, and who chose to be consecrated and vowed to celibacy, I felt angry at the notion that my choice, and that of millions of people, was derided as fanciful. This felt like another chip off the liberal project that I want to believe in of true diversity of opinion, and a shared city and society.

However, the value of sacrificial love at the bedrock of late modern and post-secular society was revealed as still as powerful as ever with Bumble receiving a wide response of outrage, and the marketing manager responsible being subsequently fired. 

If we are to love someone, we must learn to deny choices and narrow our field of volition where we choose them over other pressing concerns. 

In reading this I felt that some justice had been served. I could not escape the words of Pope Benedict XVI : “When Jesus speaks in his parables of the shepherd who goes after the lost sheep, of the woman who looks for the lost coin, of the father who goes to meet and embrace his prodigal son, these are no mere words: they constitute an explanation of his very being and activity. His death on the Cross is the culmination of that turning of God against himself in which he gives himself in order to raise man up and save him. This is love in its most radical form.”  

For a moment, this radical love reflected in a healthy, non-repressive celibacy, which gives itself up for God and the other, and marriage as its sacrificial counter-part, was vindicated and, for a moment, was given the value it deserves, and which Bumble, and even at times, that God’s own church, have betrayed. 

If we are to love someone, we must learn to deny choices and narrow our field of volition where we choose them over other pressing concerns. Such a view of love has been lost both inside and outside the Church. 

Only a new asceticism, as Sarah Coakley avers, can purify “desire in the crucible of divine love, paradoxically imparting true freedom through the narrowing of choices.” 

The fact we have gained such an impoverished ascetical or moral imagination for our loves does not bode well for how not just single people, but all people can flourish. A life of flourishing which does not involve sexual acts or in which a love beyond sex can be expressed in friendship speaks to a hope beyond sex and marriage, without which the human heart will remain restless and unsatisfied.  

As Pope Benedict XVI states in his essay, Deus Caritas Est: “God is the absolute and ultimate source of all being; but this universal principle of creation—the Logos, primordial reason—is at the same time a lover with all the passion of a true love. Eros is thus supremely ennobled, yet at the same time it is so purified as to become one with agape.” Our society, from Pope Francis all the way to Bumble needs a new sexual revolution, which sees that sex is a clue to this deeper love of God for which we were created and which beckons us as with a faithfulness and passion no other lover can provide. 

Review
Belief
Culture
Music
Romance
3 min read

Is Alex Warren singing a love song, or a worship song?

Ordinary's lyrics speak to a fundamental human desire, even when we don’t realise.

Ed is a Research Fellow at the Faculty of Theology and Religion at Oxford University.

A singer holding a guitar raises his head with closed eyes.
Warren on stage.
Mike M. Cohen, CC BY 3.0, via Wikimedia Commons.

Alex Warren’s Ordinary is number one in the UK charts. At first glance the song appears to be a love song, and I would guess this is how it’s been heard during its 400million streams.

Spend more time with the song, though, and it becomes hard to ignore the theological imagery. “stayin’ drunk on your vine,” sings Warren – a conscious (he’s a Catholic) borrowing of St John’s image of the human person as united to God like a branch to a vine. “You’re the sculptor, I’m the clay,” is a direct reference to St Paul. Warren adds to these biblical allusions images primarily associated with Christian worship, including references to ‘holy water’ and ‘kissing the sanctuary.  

So, Ordinary is certainly a love song, it’s just not clear who Warren is singing to. A human lover? Or a song to the Triune God, the One revealed in Jesus Christ? 

I’m not really interested in the meaning Warren intended to convey. But I am interested in what the popularity of the song might say about the human heart. 

As St Paul stood before the Athenians he told them he came with news of the ‘Unknown God’; one whom the Athenians did not know but who they deeply desired to know. Might the popularity of songs like Ordinary reveal the deep desire that human beings have for a God they do not yet know? To my mind, the 400,000,000 streams of Ordinary speak of a desire to meet with the God who is Love, the God who invites us into a union, a love, more intimate than the branch and the vine.  

In one of my favourite songs, Florence + the Machine insightfully explores what it might mean to love someone without knowing it. In South London Forever, she tells us about a time when she was ‘young and drunk and stumbling in the street’. The tone is light, and the regular refrains of ‘it doesn't get better than this’ capture the (sometimes literal) ecstasy which often accompanies youth.  

Yet the song also captures a real sense of loss. Florence describes how ‘I forgot my name, And the way back to my mother's house’. As the song builds, the refrain becomes deeply melancholy, with Florence moving from belting out that life had never been better to describing how: 

 ‘Everything I ever did, was just another way to scream your name, over and over and over and over again’. 

 It is with these words that the song finishes. 

But whose name is Florence screaming?  

The song does not say. But, might it be God’s name? Indeed, Florence hints at this with a singular reference to God at the heart of the song. On this reading, South London Forever becomes a story about recognising one’s own failed attempts to find happiness as an attempt to find God. It becomes a story about seeking God without even knowing it. 

Intriguingly, the great North African Bishop, St Augustine of Hippo tells a similar story in his Confessions. Augustine’s spiritual autobiography is, at least in part, a story of his deep struggle with a desire for sexual intimacy. It is a story of seeking out fulfilment in strange places such that Augustine slowly becomes a stranger to himself, and as Florence puts it, loses the way back to his mother’s house. Looking back over these attempts to find happiness, Augustine comes to recognise that it was God all along that he was looking for ‘how deeply even then, the depths of my heart were sighing for you’.  

The story of songs like Ordinary and South London Forever is that the human heart always desires God, even when the heart is looking for God in strange places. 

Celebrate our 2nd birthday!

Since Spring 2023, our readers have enjoyed over 1,000 articles. All for free. 
This is made possible through the generosity of our amazing community of supporters.

If you enjoy Seen & Unseen, would you consider making a gift towards our work?

Do so by joining Behind The Seen. Alongside other benefits, you’ll receive an extra fortnightly email from me sharing my reading and reflections on the ideas that are shaping our times.

Graham Tomlin
Editor-in-Chief