Something Beautiful for God

I have been requested to submit a comment on the article by Massimini. I do so with a certain amount of reluctance: Nothing I can say will change the existential hurt reported by the author. Nonetheless, the reader has a right to a more balanced view of celibacy than he presents.

The most evident characteristic of the article is that, beneath the linguistic surface structure, it is autobiographical. The article tells us a great deal more about how one can be expected to write about experiences that have somehow been the source of great hurt in one’s life than about anything else.

Massimini’s concepts of “forced” celibacy and the “gift” of celibacy both warrant criticism and commentary. I have never in 57 years as a member of the Jesuit order or in 44 years as an ordained priest met a celibate who fits his description of the celibate as not “being disposed to marry.” Further, there is a simple difficulty with the logic. “Forced celibacy” is a contradiction in terms. Celibacy is by definition an interior attitude, a virtuous stance of deliberate abstinence from sexual activity (and from a state of life that entails sexual activity, i.e., marriage). It is true that in the Roman Rite of the Catholic Church, one has to “buy the package,” so to speak. But one is motivated to do it out of dedication to Christ even in that setting. Celibacy out of motivation to keep the rule, or because one hates women or is inhibited sexually, is not a virtue at all and defies the very concept of celibacy.

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Christ was celibate according to all the traditions of Christendom. It’s simply in imitation of Him and out of undivided dedication to Him that one can voluntarily dedicate his (or her) life in a celibate state.

Malcom Muggeridge’s description of Mother Theresa’s life as “Something Beautiful for God” (also the title of his 1971 book about her) expresses quite clearly the very foundation of the dedicated celibate life. One gives up something of great worth and beauty: husband or wife, children, grandchildren, in short, a hearth and home. This has been my life-long experience of very normal, loving, celibate women and men, and it is surely what the members of the mental health profession—who have been screening candidates for the priesthood and religious orders for many decades now—look for in young people who apply.

Yes, the glass is half empty: Every one of us fulfills all his or her obligations in life, including the ones we have voluntarily taken upon ourselves, imperfectly. But far more importantly, the glass is also half full: Hundreds of thousands of men and women throughout the world are living dedicated celibate lives, happily and normally, and most certainly not because they are not “disposed to marry,” but simply because they have freely given something very beautiful back to their God out of unabashed love of God and His people.

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