Tuesday of the Fourth Week of Advent

 Lectionary: 197

Hark! my lover–here he comes
        springing across the mountains,
        leaping across the hills.
    My lover is like a gazelle
        or a young stag.

"Three days after you're dead!" the old priest told me. I was nineteen years of age at the time, and I don't think that I'd ask the question, "When do you get over wanting sex?" But the subject was on my mind. And, in any case, he had much experience and had thought about it for many years, and that was his answer. 

And why should it fade any sooner, or even then? Created in God's image, restored to our natural state by grace, and then growing from grace to grace, don't the curiosity, fascination, and wonder about other people increase as we become more like God? 

The Father's delight in the Son, which we heard as Jesus was baptized, finds a pale reflection in Adam's delight when the Lord presented Eve. And Elizabeth, inspired by the Spirit, was elated when the young Virgin called her name and appeared at her door. 

There is more to eroticism than sexual desire. Eros begins in the mystery of the Holy Trinity, as the Father, the Son, and Holy Spirit are endlessly delighted in one another. Their radiant joy first creates the universe and then redeems it. Their joy sweeps you and me into it, like laughter spreading in a crowd of strangers. We may not be sure what is so delightful but we're happy to share it. 

I heard another presentation about celibate sexuality recently. It's part of the unending response to The Scandal, now in its third decade. And once again, I heard no priest, brother, or nun explain why the Lord has given this beautiful form of Chastity to the Church, or why we should be grateful for it. Because the presenter was a counselor schooled in psychology, she did not touch upon the subject. 

I proposed a poem: 

Pygmalion

Startled when a living eye appeared

To gaze beneath the polished marble stone

I stood enthralled, astonished. Then I feared

My eager tools might ravage facial bone

Or tender flesh within the supple layered

Features of this rock. The monotone

Of day-in, day-out prayer had persevered

On God who said this sexless haggard crone,

My stony privacy, should yield to grace,

A muse called Chastity. Her gentle smile

Should bring me comfort still. And now a face

Of neither cynicism nor of guile

Accompanies my solitude; and eyes

Aglow with blessings solace ancient sighs.

 I believe Jesus found endless delight in meeting other people, and complete satisfaction in healing the sick, enabling the malformed, comforting the bereaved, and raising the dead. But even simple conversations like his encounters with Nicodemus and the Woman at the Well were deeply satisfying. They made his day, as mine are made when I meet Veterans willing to tell me their stories. 

I approach each Veteran with hope and curiosity and a measure of trepidation. Are they ready to meet a chaplain? Are they willing to look beyond the pain, anxiety, uncertainty, and confusion of this moment to remember how they got here? Many are happy to talk, to put this moment in perspective. They want to remember that they have much to live for. 

On this 21st day of December, as the Nativity of the Lord rapidly approaches and our eagerness is whetted like a sharpened sword, the Church offers us this passage from the Song of Songs, that perfectly erotic and profoundly sacred book. 

She reminds us that God her Husband is endlessly fascinated by her with Adam's own pleasure upon meeting Eve. And the Father is eternally delighted with you and me, her children. He is about to seat us at his banquet table; and, with towel around his waist, seduce us with a feast of rich food and choice wines, juicy, rich food and pure, choice wines.