Keeping a Close Eye on "Celibacy": Part 2

In my last post, I suggested that we need to keep a close eye on the “celibate” takeover of “singleness”.

As we continue considering this topic, it is important to remember that those who prefer “celibacy” to “singleness” do not see the terms as synonymous. Their argument isn’t, “Look, these two words mean basically the same thing, but ‘celibacy’ is more effective at communicating that meaning than ‘singleness’ is. So let’s just run with that instead, OK?”.

No. Part of the appeal of “celibacy” is that it is thought to mean something different to plain old “singleness”. Which also means it has a different significance to plain old “singleness”.

In Part One, I interacted with a case-study (“Against Singleness: On One of My Least Favorite Concepts”, by Grant Hartley) to explain what I consider to be the first of (at least) four problems with the pervasive use of “celibacy” in the contemporary Christian discourse about singleness and marriage. I’ll leave you to read that post in full. But in summary, I argued that swapping out “singleness” for “celibacy”:

1. Exacerbates rather than solves the real problem—our tragically inadequate theological understanding and relational knowledge of the meaning, dignity and significance of being and living as an unmarried Christian in the church.

2. Falsely impoverishes the faithful obedience and the fruitful eschatological witness of the everyday, ordinary “single” Christian because of its intent to see the “celibate” Christian uniquely elevated to heroic status.

In this second (and final) part, I want to posit two further “problems” with prioritising the language of “celibacy” over “singleness”. We’ll continue engaging with Grant’s article while also taking the conversation a little wider as we turn our attention to a particularly important aspect of the “celibate” narrative—sex and sexuality.

3. The Problem Is It Distorts the Relationship Between Marriage and Sex

Let’s begin by considering several quotes from Grant’s article. As you read them, keep your eye out for a running refrain:

“When I made a decision to trust Jesus with my sexuality and pursue celibacy…”

“Celibacy,” contrary to “singleness,” helpfully highlights sexual abstinence (which I am called to pursue)…”

“But my choice to forego sex and marriage (and to benefit from the gifts that celibacy affords) is not a problem, but the acceptance of a beautiful gift.”

“Using the word [celibacy] might encourage people to ask clarifying questions: […] What values and priorities do you have that would lead you to give up sex for life?”

Did you pick up the common thread?

The primary meaning of “celibacy” today is sexual abstinence. (Of course, if you read the definitional section towards the beginning of Part One, this should be no surprise to you.) One of the key reasons Grant and other like-minded advocates prefer “celibacy” over “singleness” is because the former primarily highlights not their marital status but their sexual abstinence.

Because I had intended to do just one post on this topic (and then I realised how long it would run!) I had drafted Part Two's content before I published Part One. And so I was particularly interested to read the comments of a few thoughtful readers of Part One. I think they helpfully tap into some of the significance underlying the language of “celibacy” today, and so I want to interact with two of them on the way through—one here under Problem #3 and one under Problem #4.

In his comment on Part One, commentator P.H. wrote (emphasis mine):

“For Grant and many others, the reality that "celibacy" highlights is precisely the abstinent dimension – because as same-sex-attracted, the perception especially in church subculture is that SSA people are presumed promiscuous. A problem for those committed to the traditional sexual stance of the church!”

P.H. (unknowingly) anticipated what I would go on to discuss here in Past Two. You see, the significant majority of those who use “celibacy” (rather than “single”) to describe their unmarried state also identify as being same-sex attracted (or more commonly now, gay or queer). As P.H. suggests, they see the sexually abstinent emphasis and connotations of the term “celibacy” as being particularly relevant and significant to them.

Given that, let’s consider the theological significance of using the term “celibacy” to prioritise communication about an individual’s state of sexual abstinence, rather than their unmarried situation.

God did not create sex for us as individual people but for the purposes of the marital union between a man and a woman. To put it another way, sexual intercourse (and all that goes with it) is not a good in and of itself. As Christians, we believe it is only truly a good when it is “used” per the user manual! All other instances of sexual intimacy/activity/intercourse (what the Bible calls porneia) are sinful and so are not expressions or instances of “a good”.

While the world around us wants to link sex with individual personhood, identity and fulfilment, God’s word links it with marriage and its purposes. For Christians, sex belongs to, in and for marriage.

And so, put simply, any Christian who is not married ought to have no need to routinely or consistently communicate to others that they are “celibate”. This is true regardless of the pattern of someone’s sexual attractions. A single Christian who feels the need to habitually emphasise their sexual abstinence over and above their singleness is reflecting and, in some ways, strengthening the world’s narrative that sees sex as linked to personhood rather than marriage.

Of course, this also means that no Christian (whether single or married) should ever think that a same-sex attracted single Christian person is more likely to be having sex than an opposite-sex attracted single Christian person. Such a presumption is prejudiced and foolish. We should expect all of our unmarried brothers or sisters to not only be sexually abstinent but also dedicated to sexual purity in singleness in every respect. This is a fundamental aspect of their obedience to Christ. (Of course, when we know or suspect they are not being faithful in this, it’s time for an appropriate person to initiate a pastoral conversation).

So, to draw the threads together, I think P.H.’s comment accurately identifies part of the reason why some prefer to use “celibacy” rather than “singleness”. However, I don’t believe that reason is theologically legitimate or pastorally helpful. Indeed, just like back in Problem #1, the habitual use of “celibacy” as a shorthand announcement that “FYI, I’m an unmarried Christian who is sexually abstinent” exacerbates the issue rather than addresses it. It helps solidify a theoretical separation between sex and marriage that the world promotes but which the Bible rejects out of hand.

In today’s vernacular, the term “single” sufficiently, helpfully and accurately communicates the godly reality and expectations of being unmarried as a Christian. When we routinely prefer the term “celibacy” so that we may amplify and magnify sexual abstinence in singleness, we distort the theological relationship between marriage and sex. This distortion is not a benign one.

4. The Problem Is “Celibacy” Means More Than You Likely Realise

Having said that I think P.H.’s comment accurately identifies part of the reason why some prefer to use “celibacy”, I don’t think it accounts for the full or even primary reason why many (most?) contemporary, especially younger Christians prefer “celibate” to “single”.

Matt’s reply to P.H.’s comment under Part One puts us on track to explore this. Matt (who describes himself in the comment as a gay Christian) writes:

“It's a mistake to think that celibacy (the more life long intentional expression as described there) is better than "singleness" (a more unexpected or less specifically intended, but still willingly accepted expression), and therefore we should be more comfortable saying single rather than just saying celibate to try and provide some legitimacy to our situation.”

In other words, Matt agrees with my Part One conclusion that “celibacy” isn’t qualitatively or substantially better than “singleness”. (As an aside: like many others, Matt thinks the differing terms do communicate important distinctions about choice vs circumstance. I’ve written elsewhere about how the situation of a single Christian is almost always characterised by some level of complexity that ought to move us beyond the simple either/or of choice and circumstance. In my opinion, this problematises Matt and others’ argument that the two terms importantly communicate a choice/circumstance binary. But let’s not get distracted by that here!)

In the same comment, Matt also writes:

“As a gay christian committed to the bible's sexual ethic, if I say ‘I'm a single gay christian’ that could be read as ‘I am currently single but could be in a relationship in the future’, whereas if I say I'm a ‘celibate gay christian’ then that allows me to communication [sic] ‘I have specifically chosen to abstain from the sort of sexual relationships I would be interested in because I think God is calling me to forego it, and therefore I expect to be celibate for the rest of my life’.”

OK. This is where I take a deep breath because of the slings and arrows that have previously come my way when I’ve waded into this territory.

Matt is representing the commonly held view that being a gay Christian means he (and others in his situation) need to communicate both more and more specifically about their singleness than an opposite-sex attracted unmarried Christian like myself does. While I disagree that this is strictly needed, I do agree with his observation that this is why many same-sex attracted/gay/queer Christians use the language of “celibacy” rather than “single”.

It has been my considered and careful observation over some years that the majority of those who now use the word “celibacy” do not do so to simply describe their state of sexual abstinence (as per P.H.’s comment). Rather, they see the term as loading that state with a particular significance and meaning. This is considered to be unique to their situation and is not represented by the word “singleness” (as per Matt’s comment).

To be more specific, “celibacy” is predominantly used today to communicate a same-sex attracted Christian’s personal, sacrificial and costly choice to live without having the kind of sex they desire to have. This is consistent with the emphasis on individual agency and even heroic sacrifice embedded into “celibacy” that we explored in Part One.

Now, if for some reason your hackles have been somewhat raised, please bear with me as I explain and evidence why I say that. In his comment, Matt wrote this:

“…whereas if I say I'm a ‘celibate gay christian’ then that allows me to communication ‘I have specifically chosen to abstain from the sort of sexual relationships I would be interested in because I think God is calling me to forego it, and therefore I expect to be celibate for the rest of my life’.”

In his article, Grant (who also describes himself as gay) develops this notion further:

“So when “singleness” is discussed, it is typically seen as an unfortunate and temporary state that will eventually give way to marriage—[“singleness” is] a state no one would choose for themselves […]

But my choice to forego sex and marriage (and to benefit from the gifts that celibacy affords) is not a problem, but the acceptance of a beautiful gift. It is the vocation of choice for heroes of the faith (including the apostle Paul, and Jesus himself)…”

Being “single” means your sexual abstinence is an unfortunate but necessary expectation imposed upon you for as long as you are trapped in the state that nobody would choose for themselves.

But being “celibate” is not a problem like that. Instead, it represents “your choice to forego sex and marriage” (which for Grant means forgoing same-sex sex and same-sex marriage). This kind of “(gay) celibacy” embraces the sacrificial and heroic cost of making that choice, and so becomes a beautiful thing.

Now, let be very clear, I have many dear friends who experience sexual attraction to members of their sex and who hold faithfully to the Bible’s teaching about God’s design for them, others, sex and marriage. I love them. I value them. I respect them. I learn from them. I delight in them. I care for them. And so what follows is not a comment about individuals (or a collection of individuals) who use the language of “celibacy” to communicate a particular thing. My concern does not lie with the people who are using the language for a specific reason but with the implication of the language as it is used for that specific reason.

What is the reason for the language? “Celibacy” is not only increasingly being used as a shorthand reference to a distinctly exceptional and celebrated form of the unmarried life but to a distinctly exceptional and celebrated form of (gay) spirituality.

In the first decade and a half of the 21st Century, a first/earlier generation of courageous, theologically orthodox, same-sex-attracted Christian leaders compelled the evangelical church to grapple with a whole range of long-standing, terrible failures. Just one of those was our tragically impoverished attitude towards singleness (and our corresponding idealisation of marriage). They rightly challenged the church to recognise that if it was going to disciple and love those who experience exclusive and persistent same-sex sexual attraction, then the church needed to be able to offer them a faithful and nourishing way of being single as a Christian.

In this vein, some began to use the language of “gay celibacy” to, as P.H. noted, communicate that while they experienced exclusive sexual attraction to their own sex, they were committed to living faithfully as an unmarried person under the Bible’s teaching. The term “gay celibacy” had specific contextual resonance.

However, in more recent years (roughly the last five or so), a newer/younger generation of same-sex attracted Christians have further developed the language of “gay celibacy” and embedded it with a deeper and heightened meaning.

For many/most of them, “gay celibacy” does not simply communicate their (wonderful) faithfulness in singleness. Rather, it predominantly refers to a particularly unique kind of spirituality that is only able to be embraced and lived out by sexually abstinent same-sex attracted/gay/queer Christians.

We get a hint of this in Grant’s article:

“There is little that is disruptive or out of the ordinary in calling oneself “single”; “celibacy,” however, is unfamiliar and sounds strange. Using the word might encourage people to ask clarifying questions […] What values and priorities do you have that would lead you to give up sex for life?”

To put it in the language of the day, “(gay) celibacy” is seen to be “queer”. Indeed, in the third part of a more recent series titled ‘Constructing a Celibate Gay Christian Spirituality’, Grant writes (emphasis original):

“Celibacy can be “queer.” Every society offers its members a script for the ways of living it considers to be normal or respectable, an expectation for how responsible members of society are supposed to act… Celibacy can reveal that script to us, can force us to see how contingent it is, and can allow us to think outside of it, imagining new possibilities for living. In that sense, celibacy can be queer—it can challenge a prevailing societal norm.”

While there is a limited sense in which this means all “celibacy” (including that of an opposite-sex attracted Christian like myself) may be thought of as queer, “gay celibacy” is considered uniquely and more fully so. Why? Well, because someone like myself not only still has the possibility of one day conforming to the script, but chances are I really want to conform to it. As such, I’m not really challenging the “prevailing societal norm”.

“Gay celibacy” on the other hand decisively throws off the shackles of expectations and normality, and this queerness is seen as being uniquely virtuous. Particularly on view is the virtue of self-sacrifice thought to be inherent to gay celibacy (but not to singleness). We see this notion of self-sacrifice in words such as “forego”, “give up”, “abstain” and so on. Matt comments that the word “celibacy”:

“… allows me to communication [sic] ‘I have specifically chosen to abstain from the sort of sexual relationships I would be interested in because I think God is calling me to forego it…”

Grant puts it like this:

“But my choice to forego sex and marriage (and to benefit from the gifts that celibacy affords) is not a problem, but the acceptance of a beautiful gift. It is the vocation of choice for heroes of the faith”

At a 2024 Wheaton College lecture titled Gay Celibate Asceticism, theological scholar and author David Bennett summarised it in these words:

“Gay celibacy then opens same-sex desire to the horizon of a redeemed or sanctified eros . The witness of gay celibates do not see themselves as merely the poor victims of heterosexism but they know that they are those who draw their queerness into a holy escatic self-sacrifice or asceticism.”

These are just a few examples from the “gay celibacy” discourse which show how its queerness, virtue and exceptionality is thought to be located in the “giving up” or the “self-sacrifice” for God of the kind of sexual relationship (and, for some but not all, romantic partnership) that one desires..

Now, please note that I have not here analysed or critiqued this “gay celibacy” discourse. (For those interested, I’ve previously interacted with some of the ideas within it here and here). Instead, I’ve just sought to establish and explain its existence. I’ve wanted to show you that the chief advocates for the language of “celibacy” in the contemporary Christian discourse typically mean more by it than you likely realise.

“Celibacy”, and specifically “gay celibacy” (the primary context in which the term is used) does not simply describe the situation of a faithful, sexually abstinent, unmarried, same-sex attracted Christian. Instead, it increasingly refers to an exceptionally sacrificial and unique kind of Christian spirituality. In this context, “celibacy” is not simply a bit different or more specific than ordinary “singleness” (or marriage, for that matter). As Grant puts it in the title of his recent series, it is about Constructing a Celibate Gay Christian Spirituality.

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“Celibacy” is not just “singleness” by a slightly different name. In our context, it is a term heavily and dynamically weighted with particular meaning and significance.

1. It (intentionally) shapes and moulds the discourse in service of its own particular concern and commitments, rather than contributing to a more faithful understanding of the unmarried Christian life as a whole.

2. It (unintentionally) diminishes the faithfulness and fruitfulness of those who have not purposefully set out to remain unmarried but who are getting on with living a godly life of eschatological witness for Christ in the midst of it.

3. It (unintentionally) distorts and even separates the ordered and purposeful relationship between sex and marriage in a way that the Bible does not allow.

4. It (intentionally and increasingly) refers to a unique, exceptional, heightened and sacrificial form of Christian spirituality of a certain subset of disciples of Christ.

Does this mean we should never use the term “celibacy”? No, I don’t think it means that. Nor am I advocating that we should go around policing every instance of its use.

But we do need to be vigilant. We should not use the term casually, cavalierly or carelessly. For the sake of ensuring we mature and maintain theologically faithful understandings and pastorally flourishing expressions of singleness, marriage, sex and indeed the whole of Christian life, I think we need to keep a close eye on “celibacy”.