I've mentioned on here a few times that I am something of an amateur gardener. I have two small plots out in the back where I grow things like carrots, potatoes, green beans, strawberries (etc.), and a host of assorted herbs. I've been at it for three years now, and each season the yields are a little better, the bugs a little easier to control, and the plants a little healthier. Some of that has to do with the maturing soil, to be sure, but some of it also has to do with the fact that I've started to learn these plants. I've learned what conditions help them grow and how keep them flourishing, even into the hot summer months; I've learned how to be light-handed in my care, eschewing pesticides for companion plants and actually encouraging the presence of some bugs in order to control others, etc. I've also learned the best times and ways to harvest and preserve that harvest so that it holds its freshness until each carrot or green bean or cantaloupe makes it to our table.
There is a kind of beauty to this process.
For example, I learned recently that even the time of day in which you harvest makes a difference. Consider basil. If you pick it too early in the morning, the dew actually impedes the production of the oils that really bring out its flavor, so it can taste bland. If you pick it too late in the day, the heat of the day can cause those oils to evaporate and leave it tasting bitter or sour. So, there is this sweet spot when you need to pick your basil if you really want it to taste like basil, and, the important thing is, it doesn't matter what time I'd prefer to pick basil. If I'm just not a morning person and would prefer to do my foraging in the afternoon, the basil doesn't care. If I'm really a morning person and, by the demands of my schedule or family arrangements, just need to do the work before the dew clears, the basil isn't going to suddenly start producing those oils in order to accommodate me. Of course, I am free to pick that basil whenever I want to, the leaves don't just appear at the right time for picking, but if I really want to enjoy it, if I want all that time and effort I've spent (selecting the plant and then seeing to its growth) to matter, I will have to abide by the limits of its nature.
Now, what's interesting to me is, rather than bristle at them, we seem to accept these limits in almost every sphere of life.
We know that a limitation of our skin is that, if we stay out in the sun for too long without any kind of sunscreen, it will burn. We know that, if we spend all night drinking without also being intentional about drinking water, we will get dehydrated, we will probably get sick, and we are guaranteed to wake up with terrible hangover. I have personally learned that dogs, as opposed to cats, do not need a whole lot of protein, and, if you feed them too much of it, you will have quite a mess to clean up later. (Too much?)
So, why is it, then, that we bristle at the mere suggestion that these limits might also exist in relation to human relationships and sexuality?
Granted, the church has definitely, of late, done a terrible job in the way it communicates those limits. Recently, I saw a video of guy absolutely destroying a beautifully cooked brisket, hacking away at all of the most flavorful parts and reducing it to a dry, flavorless piece of grey meat. (Seriously, as he lopped off all of that wonderfully rendered fat and casually discarded it into the garbage, I felt like a part of me died inside.) The commenters were ruthless. For days, they seemed to delight in butchering the guy as horrifically as he'd butchered that brisket -- to the point that it left me feeling sad for the fellow to have been treated that way and embarrassed that my own reaction was so much in line with what I saw playing out below.
And that would be a pretty good metaphor for the way the religious right has handled sexuality. They've stood above those with whom they disagree and hurled insults and subjected them to vicious tirades. They've sought to shout the people they oppose out of existence, or at the very least into some hidden, dark corner where they can be forgotten about. In so doing, they set themselves up as arbiters of what seemed like a host of arbitrary rules and proclaimed judgment on all who dared oppose them. Just like a pack of internet commenters, they sought power and manipulation rather than humility and grace -- which why there are a growing number of folks who are uncomfortable with the dogmatic articulations of their parent's faith.
However... and this is an important "however"... the sins of the commentariat do not, on their own, invalidate the truth of the limits they uphold. There really is a conversation to be had about the way to carve a brisket that best preserves the texture and flavors all those hours of cooking were meant to create. When viewed rightly, those rules -- those limits -- actually enable us to enjoy the brisket better, and isn't that what we're after?
So, if that's the case with brisket (or when to pick basil, or how to care for your skin, etc.)... why not sexuality?
