You might be wondering if it really matters whether we speak of “singleness” or “celibacy”. Is it really that big a deal? Well, words matter. After all, the words we choose to use don’t simply convey truth and meaning… they also shape truth and meaning. This is precisely what is happening with the preferencing of “celibacy” over “singleness” today. And so, yes, I think it is a big deal.
While I'm enjoying the terminological jousting, I do think it's worth putting something onto the scales... ⚖️
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!
So "celibacy" does double work for those folks: 1) one's unmarried state is covered, and 2) a misunderstanding about one's sexual activity is immediately prevented. And frankly, given how straight single people conduct themselves in society at large, it's no small thing.
I think you got this exactly right here. 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 "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". Those two things are very different in the way they're experienced, and it's an important distinction for us to be able to make clear. As Dani correctly expresses, the mistake is not ultimately a linguistic one, it's an ideological one. 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. But that doesn't mean that making a distinction between the two can't be helpful or important, and that's why many of us gay christians who hold to a more traditional sexual ethic feel more comfortable describing ourselves as celibate rather than single.
Thanks for your comments P.H and Matt. . They provide good food for thought as I prepare to speak more about the "sexual" aspect of celibacy v singleness in Part 2. As such, I won't engage with them here, but feel free to provoke further discussion in the comments on Part 2 :)
An interesting thesis. I have some reservations on your historical framing; I've studied the early Reformation pretty extensively, and if anything Protestants conceived the modern notion of celibacy. It was important to Catholic clerics and not to Protestant clerics, but when it came to the laity, Catholicism did not take celibacy or virginity that seriously compared to the often Puritanical leanings of the reformed.
It was also bound up in proto-class discourse: to a Catholic, extramarital sex meant bastards, which meant free labor for the nearest monastery. On the other hand, the nascent burgher class that embraced Protestantism saw another bastard living off of their church tithes, and sexual purity codes were enforced to a far greater degree, along with a six day work week and twice-Sunday church service. That shifted a bit with Catholic hostility to medical contraception, but for example promise rings and other celibacy rituals didn't show up in my Catholic upbringing, including most of my primary education. I also don't remember the last time I heard a Catholic priest say anything about celibacy; not remarrying after divorce yes, having lots of babies certainly, but not celibacy per se.
I think you are onto something, but it might be helpful to clarify which forks of Christianity you're discussing. I get a sense this is a conversation between white American Protestants, which is a fine topic, but also a relatively limited segment of Christianity.
I think part of the problem comes out of conflicting reasons for talking about and thinking about celibacy or singleness.
For me, I call myself celibate because I don’t have any expectation that I will ever get married or have sex, because the type of marriage or sex (same-sex) that I would be interested in I believe I am called to forego. Now I agree that this isn’t binarily different from that of people who have a more unexpected or “circumstantial” (for lack of a better word) singleness, in the sense that it is because we both believe that we are called to not engage in sex outside of marriage that we choose not to have said sex, and my celibacy is no more “vocational” or “intentional” or “special” or whatever, it’s the same sexual ethic and it’s the same obedience to God’s will. But practically it is still experienced to be quite different – I don’t have any expectation to get married or have sex, I don’t foresee it as a possibility, whereas those who have a more “circumstantial” singleness often still have an openness to marriage in a way that I just can’t. We are the same in our willingness to follow God’s calling in our life on how to live our lives sexually, but what that’s realistically going to look like is likely to be different – I can’t be open to the types of sexual relationships I would be interested in, whereas people who are more “circumstantially” single can have a reasonable expectation of either marriage or continued singleness. That’s why I prefer to call myself celibate, not because I think that my more long-term “chosen” celibacy is actually more chosen (and therefore better) or more special or intentional or anything, but because I need a way to communicate the nature of my relationship with my sexuality – I’m not just refraining from the type of sexual relationship I would be interested in because I haven’t found one, but because I believe I am specifically called to refrain from such a relationship.
It's partly a matter of communication. If I say I’m a single gay Christian, then I could be read as saying “I am currently single, in the future I may be in a gay relationship”, whereas if I say I’m a celibate gay Christian, then that more clearly communicates that the reason why I’m not in a gay sexual relationship is because I believe that scripture does not allow me to go down such a route. In contrast, for straight single Christians, if they say “I’m single” then people wouldn’t be wrong in believing that they are at least not in principle barred from entering into the types of sexual relationships they are interested in (through marriage of course), whereas if they say “I’m celibate” then that clearly does express that they specifically intend to not enter into such a relationship, for whatever reason, even if they could in principle go down that route (in marriage). Where I agree with you is that it is wrong to suggest that singleness (in the sense of not in a relationship but open at least in principle to one) is worse than “celibacy” (in the sense of not being in a relationship and not foreseeably open to the type of relationship they would be interested in, whether “chosen” or not), or marriage, and I agree with you that the reason people talk more about celibacy than singleness is because of the false view that “circumstantial singleness” is worse than “chosen/intentional celibacy”, and we should therefore be more comfortable and insistent in using the word single. But it can still be useful practically and pastorally to express how the experience of expecting to be celibate for the rest of your life as I do feels different from being single, but being able to expect either marriage or singleness.
I also understand why you didn’t want to open the can of worms about whether you can be celibate but not single, and I don’t want to open that can now either, but I do really think that in celibate gay spaces this is a really important distinction for those of us who are open to the idea of a celibate partnership of some form, to be able to recognise that we can enter into a relationship of some form (and thus won’t be single), whilst remaining celibate (refraining from sex within that relationship) in accordance with our sexual ethic. Being able to distinguish between those things for us is really important, and which is why we’re maybe more comfortable calling ourselves celibate because we’re still at least open to not being single, even if we still intend to forego sex.
An element that's missing from the dialogue is how intensely a husband and wife might end up depending on each other. The enticements of marriage, probably, will lead them to make promises they really can't keep without God's help. And I think that was the plan all along- marriage was designed to eliminate alone-ness, but once humanity became fallen it morphed into God's way to get us to develop our now-flawed character by signing up for more difficulties than we could handle. (Just my opinion, though.)
My reason for believing this is that I had no idea how difficult marriage would be. Marriage motivated me very strongly to depend on God.
As a single I didn't even know which qualities to ask for, and really didn't need them.
If I'm right about this, then the character qualities marriage could teach can be attained simply by asking God for them. Marriage's purpose might be to show a single person what they should be asking for. Since God's supernatural, He can give you the qualities you ask for without marriage, if you know which ones you need.
I've been bemused by the recent rise in Christians claiming they are 'celibate' rather than 'single'. Why do they need to try and prove that they are somehow 'more spiritual' or 'more committed' or 'more content with singleness' then those who are just 'single'? Also, if any of these people find someone they want to marry, are they going to continue being single? Because if not, they are no different from any other single person who stays single until they meet someone they want to marry! If a person has issues with the way in which singleness is regarded by the church (which wouldn't be surprising, considering the appalling way in which so many churches treat singles as 'second class') then surely the solution is to advocate for the church to have a more biblical attitude toward singleness, not to try and invent a new and more important type of singleness that is exempt from the poor treatment!
While I'm enjoying the terminological jousting, I do think it's worth putting something onto the scales... ⚖️
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!
So "celibacy" does double work for those folks: 1) one's unmarried state is covered, and 2) a misunderstanding about one's sexual activity is immediately prevented. And frankly, given how straight single people conduct themselves in society at large, it's no small thing.
I think you got this exactly right here. 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 "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". Those two things are very different in the way they're experienced, and it's an important distinction for us to be able to make clear. As Dani correctly expresses, the mistake is not ultimately a linguistic one, it's an ideological one. 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. But that doesn't mean that making a distinction between the two can't be helpful or important, and that's why many of us gay christians who hold to a more traditional sexual ethic feel more comfortable describing ourselves as celibate rather than single.
Thanks for your comments P.H and Matt. . They provide good food for thought as I prepare to speak more about the "sexual" aspect of celibacy v singleness in Part 2. As such, I won't engage with them here, but feel free to provoke further discussion in the comments on Part 2 :)
An interesting thesis. I have some reservations on your historical framing; I've studied the early Reformation pretty extensively, and if anything Protestants conceived the modern notion of celibacy. It was important to Catholic clerics and not to Protestant clerics, but when it came to the laity, Catholicism did not take celibacy or virginity that seriously compared to the often Puritanical leanings of the reformed.
It was also bound up in proto-class discourse: to a Catholic, extramarital sex meant bastards, which meant free labor for the nearest monastery. On the other hand, the nascent burgher class that embraced Protestantism saw another bastard living off of their church tithes, and sexual purity codes were enforced to a far greater degree, along with a six day work week and twice-Sunday church service. That shifted a bit with Catholic hostility to medical contraception, but for example promise rings and other celibacy rituals didn't show up in my Catholic upbringing, including most of my primary education. I also don't remember the last time I heard a Catholic priest say anything about celibacy; not remarrying after divorce yes, having lots of babies certainly, but not celibacy per se.
I think you are onto something, but it might be helpful to clarify which forks of Christianity you're discussing. I get a sense this is a conversation between white American Protestants, which is a fine topic, but also a relatively limited segment of Christianity.
I think part of the problem comes out of conflicting reasons for talking about and thinking about celibacy or singleness.
For me, I call myself celibate because I don’t have any expectation that I will ever get married or have sex, because the type of marriage or sex (same-sex) that I would be interested in I believe I am called to forego. Now I agree that this isn’t binarily different from that of people who have a more unexpected or “circumstantial” (for lack of a better word) singleness, in the sense that it is because we both believe that we are called to not engage in sex outside of marriage that we choose not to have said sex, and my celibacy is no more “vocational” or “intentional” or “special” or whatever, it’s the same sexual ethic and it’s the same obedience to God’s will. But practically it is still experienced to be quite different – I don’t have any expectation to get married or have sex, I don’t foresee it as a possibility, whereas those who have a more “circumstantial” singleness often still have an openness to marriage in a way that I just can’t. We are the same in our willingness to follow God’s calling in our life on how to live our lives sexually, but what that’s realistically going to look like is likely to be different – I can’t be open to the types of sexual relationships I would be interested in, whereas people who are more “circumstantially” single can have a reasonable expectation of either marriage or continued singleness. That’s why I prefer to call myself celibate, not because I think that my more long-term “chosen” celibacy is actually more chosen (and therefore better) or more special or intentional or anything, but because I need a way to communicate the nature of my relationship with my sexuality – I’m not just refraining from the type of sexual relationship I would be interested in because I haven’t found one, but because I believe I am specifically called to refrain from such a relationship.
It's partly a matter of communication. If I say I’m a single gay Christian, then I could be read as saying “I am currently single, in the future I may be in a gay relationship”, whereas if I say I’m a celibate gay Christian, then that more clearly communicates that the reason why I’m not in a gay sexual relationship is because I believe that scripture does not allow me to go down such a route. In contrast, for straight single Christians, if they say “I’m single” then people wouldn’t be wrong in believing that they are at least not in principle barred from entering into the types of sexual relationships they are interested in (through marriage of course), whereas if they say “I’m celibate” then that clearly does express that they specifically intend to not enter into such a relationship, for whatever reason, even if they could in principle go down that route (in marriage). Where I agree with you is that it is wrong to suggest that singleness (in the sense of not in a relationship but open at least in principle to one) is worse than “celibacy” (in the sense of not being in a relationship and not foreseeably open to the type of relationship they would be interested in, whether “chosen” or not), or marriage, and I agree with you that the reason people talk more about celibacy than singleness is because of the false view that “circumstantial singleness” is worse than “chosen/intentional celibacy”, and we should therefore be more comfortable and insistent in using the word single. But it can still be useful practically and pastorally to express how the experience of expecting to be celibate for the rest of your life as I do feels different from being single, but being able to expect either marriage or singleness.
I also understand why you didn’t want to open the can of worms about whether you can be celibate but not single, and I don’t want to open that can now either, but I do really think that in celibate gay spaces this is a really important distinction for those of us who are open to the idea of a celibate partnership of some form, to be able to recognise that we can enter into a relationship of some form (and thus won’t be single), whilst remaining celibate (refraining from sex within that relationship) in accordance with our sexual ethic. Being able to distinguish between those things for us is really important, and which is why we’re maybe more comfortable calling ourselves celibate because we’re still at least open to not being single, even if we still intend to forego sex.
An element that's missing from the dialogue is how intensely a husband and wife might end up depending on each other. The enticements of marriage, probably, will lead them to make promises they really can't keep without God's help. And I think that was the plan all along- marriage was designed to eliminate alone-ness, but once humanity became fallen it morphed into God's way to get us to develop our now-flawed character by signing up for more difficulties than we could handle. (Just my opinion, though.)
My reason for believing this is that I had no idea how difficult marriage would be. Marriage motivated me very strongly to depend on God.
As a single I didn't even know which qualities to ask for, and really didn't need them.
If I'm right about this, then the character qualities marriage could teach can be attained simply by asking God for them. Marriage's purpose might be to show a single person what they should be asking for. Since God's supernatural, He can give you the qualities you ask for without marriage, if you know which ones you need.
I've been bemused by the recent rise in Christians claiming they are 'celibate' rather than 'single'. Why do they need to try and prove that they are somehow 'more spiritual' or 'more committed' or 'more content with singleness' then those who are just 'single'? Also, if any of these people find someone they want to marry, are they going to continue being single? Because if not, they are no different from any other single person who stays single until they meet someone they want to marry! If a person has issues with the way in which singleness is regarded by the church (which wouldn't be surprising, considering the appalling way in which so many churches treat singles as 'second class') then surely the solution is to advocate for the church to have a more biblical attitude toward singleness, not to try and invent a new and more important type of singleness that is exempt from the poor treatment!