And not always to defend. So in response to this post by the recognized authority on the subject, Janet Smith:
I abandoned hormonal contraceptives long before converting to Catholicism because it just didn't feel right to be doing such unnatural things to my body. There are several points here that should be addressed, because while I agree with most of the points made about the pill, there *are* hormonal contraceptives (depo-provera) that can increase sex drive, though that one has several unpleasant possible side effects in addition to making your uterus "like a desert," as my OB said. Also, while some pregnant women certainly experience decreased libido, I believe there are almost as many who experience a heightened desire--not for any evolutionary purpose, but certainly for bonding with the father of their child(ren), a closeness that prepares for birth.
I do agree that there are many career decisions that interfere with couple intimacy, but to set up the dichotomy of career woman and earthy, holy, domestic mother-type is to commit an error that is perpetuated in a lot of the literature geared toward Catholic women, and to potentially alienate those of us who are doing our best to fulfill our vocation as mothers and wives while using the other talents God has given us to pursue careers--sometimes careers we chose before conversion. There doesn't have to be a contradiction, though of course our dignity as women does not depend on work, and there may be some confusion about that on an unconscious level because of the messages that society sends to women. I take comfort in something that was told to me in RCIA and echoes other things I've read: That God only wants us to be, to the fully extent possible, the people that we are meant to be. And for some, our trials might involve navigating multiple difficult pursuits simultaneously.
I resemble the "fifth couple" of Smith's anecdote in my marriage, except for only having 3 children, but I disagree that the reproductive capability that we share is a source of joy for my husband and I, who are navigating a difficult sibling dynamic with very strong personalities in our current parenting. I *have* felt that thrill in being a parent with my husband, but usually when I was newly pregnant, when the awe of it all was fresh. I take issue with the "baby-making power of the sexual act" as energizing, etc. When one is already a parent, x1, x2, x3, etc., there are times when the sexual act is a refuge for the parents--an affirmation that, for the moment, does not include children, which is why humans, unlike other animals, do engage in intercourse when they are not fertile, or when the woman has already conceived. Theology of the Body allows that sexual act, performed during infertile periods, does not necessarily mark an exclusion of God from the relationship.
This statement in Smith's article is also deeply flawed in how it is articulated, though it may be theologically sound on some levels: "While couples who use contraception may in fact love one another deeply, contracepted sex expresses a willingness only to engage in a momentary physical pleasure and thus expresses neither love nor commitment." And yet, this is a given, an important element of persuasion, a rallying cry, in most discussions of NFP. However that may be, the argument denies the potential of humans to cultivate an emotional bond in spite of physiology. By the same rationale that informs this statement, barren couples should not be able to affirm commitment to one another in the sexual act because their bodies are not joined in a potentially fruitful act during intercourse. While it is true that the psychology and physiology of contracepted sex is different, it is possible to overstate this in a way that diminishes the dignity of the individuals involved.
I still struggle with NFP--failing more often than not to be faithful to the spirit of Church teaching--and I think I always will. Discourses on NFP do not satisfy, because however sophisticated my understanding of theology, there are elements that seem to me to be expressed without understanding, and that certainly do not fit with my experience. I will never return to artificial contraception, and I think that the culture of contraception is a dangerous thing, but I think generalizing about couples who contracept is ungenerous. And sometimes, restating how the couple that is willing to conceive is superior in their lovemaking because it is so much more meaningful is off-putting.
Monday, July 26, 2010
Monday, February 8, 2010
Tuesday, January 19, 2010
Marriage and Knowing God
My semi-anonymity shattered, I nevertheless have no other suitable venue for the idea that has popped into my head. So if you are inclined to think that ruminations about the nature of our relationship with God are corny, I invite you to read on anyway, or you may choose click the "back" button. If you know me in "real life" your opinion of me may be altered--or not!
Last week, my husband was on a business trip in Mexico. He left on Sunday in the early afternoon, and returned on Friday--again, in the early afternoon. This is the longest we have been apart in our near-thirteen years of marriage. For my part, I think I handled it well. There were times during the week when I thought about emailing him at work about some casual event or thought and receiving a quick response, only to realize with a sinking feeling that that would not happen. I had to be much more proactive with daily household matters, since there was only one of me, and I depend on my husband greatly when he is home. I had to be the last person awake at night, and to turn out the lights, leaving empty rooms behind me as I made my way to the bedroom that he & I share with our two girls (yes, you read that right!), but the girls made sure that I never suffered from too much extra space in bed!
On Friday, I was the only person who was there to meet him at the airport--a rare treat to have two hours alone with my husband. Just like when he Skyped with me from abroad, I was unable to suppress a smile of almost giddy happiness on the way to the airport, and the reunion--just seeing him again--was euphoric. The waitress at Red Lobster must have thought we were newlyweds from the look on my face. As I told my husband tonight, I wasn't crazy about the travel, but to be able to have that euphoric reunion was amazing, and I would welcome the opportunity to experience that feeling--a feeling that lasted for several hours at least--again.
I confessed this emotion--the eagerness for joy after separation--to my husband tonight, and in doing so, stumbled upon the word "euphoria." I speculated that there is likely a chemical component to such a feeling, since it is a very physical kind of joy. But the biological does not subtract from the spiritual nature of the (re)union, and I was reminded of the nature of marriage as a Sacrament, the purpose of which is to teach us truths about God.
Thinking about the chemistry of long-term marriage reminded me, after the connection with my own experience, of my grandmother, who seemed to lose a spark after my grandfather died. I thought of how it would be for her if loved ones are reunited in heaven. But then I considered--isn't the Christian notion of heaven poised to be the greatest possible reunion of love? And the euphoria of reunion of spouses only a shadow of what we must feel when united with God?
There are things that I believe that I do not fully grasp--such is the nature of belief: to accept and strive to understand in a limited way without always feeling the reality of the tenet. But we want that fuller knowledge. I pray, "Thy Kingdom Come," and "wait in joyful hope for the coming of Your Son, Our Lord Jesus Christ," but it is something I have struggled with--to what extent do I really mean this? I fear death. On the ladder of faith, I am not at a high enough rung to embrace the idea of departing this life to meet God. And C. S. Lewis's portrayal of heaven in The Last Battle warms my earthly, materialistic heart because it contains what is good in both Narnia and England--in very physical form. Dante's luminous spheres don't move me so much.
So in the memory of the unrestrained joy, the giddy happiness with which I greeted my husband on Friday, enjoying every moment because I was once again in his company, I received this grace: a shadow of an understanding--a feeling! a knowing!--of what it must mean to (re)unite ourselves with God--and that is not a finite joy.
Last week, my husband was on a business trip in Mexico. He left on Sunday in the early afternoon, and returned on Friday--again, in the early afternoon. This is the longest we have been apart in our near-thirteen years of marriage. For my part, I think I handled it well. There were times during the week when I thought about emailing him at work about some casual event or thought and receiving a quick response, only to realize with a sinking feeling that that would not happen. I had to be much more proactive with daily household matters, since there was only one of me, and I depend on my husband greatly when he is home. I had to be the last person awake at night, and to turn out the lights, leaving empty rooms behind me as I made my way to the bedroom that he & I share with our two girls (yes, you read that right!), but the girls made sure that I never suffered from too much extra space in bed!
On Friday, I was the only person who was there to meet him at the airport--a rare treat to have two hours alone with my husband. Just like when he Skyped with me from abroad, I was unable to suppress a smile of almost giddy happiness on the way to the airport, and the reunion--just seeing him again--was euphoric. The waitress at Red Lobster must have thought we were newlyweds from the look on my face. As I told my husband tonight, I wasn't crazy about the travel, but to be able to have that euphoric reunion was amazing, and I would welcome the opportunity to experience that feeling--a feeling that lasted for several hours at least--again.
I confessed this emotion--the eagerness for joy after separation--to my husband tonight, and in doing so, stumbled upon the word "euphoria." I speculated that there is likely a chemical component to such a feeling, since it is a very physical kind of joy. But the biological does not subtract from the spiritual nature of the (re)union, and I was reminded of the nature of marriage as a Sacrament, the purpose of which is to teach us truths about God.
Thinking about the chemistry of long-term marriage reminded me, after the connection with my own experience, of my grandmother, who seemed to lose a spark after my grandfather died. I thought of how it would be for her if loved ones are reunited in heaven. But then I considered--isn't the Christian notion of heaven poised to be the greatest possible reunion of love? And the euphoria of reunion of spouses only a shadow of what we must feel when united with God?
There are things that I believe that I do not fully grasp--such is the nature of belief: to accept and strive to understand in a limited way without always feeling the reality of the tenet. But we want that fuller knowledge. I pray, "Thy Kingdom Come," and "wait in joyful hope for the coming of Your Son, Our Lord Jesus Christ," but it is something I have struggled with--to what extent do I really mean this? I fear death. On the ladder of faith, I am not at a high enough rung to embrace the idea of departing this life to meet God. And C. S. Lewis's portrayal of heaven in The Last Battle warms my earthly, materialistic heart because it contains what is good in both Narnia and England--in very physical form. Dante's luminous spheres don't move me so much.
So in the memory of the unrestrained joy, the giddy happiness with which I greeted my husband on Friday, enjoying every moment because I was once again in his company, I received this grace: a shadow of an understanding--a feeling! a knowing!--of what it must mean to (re)unite ourselves with God--and that is not a finite joy.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)