SULLIMANIA. I hope to make this the final installment of the Andrew-Sullivan-and-sex-and-Catholics stuff, at least for a while. I’ve said much of what I have to say here, here, and here; these posts are really just clean-up. Also, for some reason I can’t get into the relevant sections of Andrew Sullivan’s archives at all, so there will be a minimum of direct quotation. Yes, I know this sucks, and I’ll fix it if anyone can send me the link and/or particular posts.

First, why is this important? Sullivan at one point recalled that his mother had told him that sexual sins were wrong, but they weren’t the most important problems. (Here’s where a quote would be just great.) You know, I really have no idea how important this is in the Grand Scheme of Things. Does Jesus care more about who you sleep with than about other stuff? I have no clue. Why does that matter? My goal here, as I’ve said before, is not to do the absolute minimum required to enter Heaven (“you must be this saintly to ride this ride”). My goal is to do what God wants for me.

Sexual sin can form the spine of romantic, moving relationships; sin can mingle with beauty, wit, and care. Richard Brookhiser’s essay on Governeur Morris, in the current City Journal, does a great job of showing this man as a highly sympathetic, generous, gentlemanly rake. But no one, I hope, would argue that this somehow invalidates the Seventh Commandment. If we could somehow peer into Heaven and spot Morris chatting up Eleanor of Aquitaine, that wouldn’t make it okay to break marriage vows.

And the questions Sullivan raises do have important implications: What does love require? How do we come to know Christ?

WHAT IS SULLIVAN ARGUING? As near as I can figure, under all the (justified) outrage at reprobate priests and craven bishops, the basic sexual morality is: An ye harm none, do as ye will.

Sullivan appeals to the fact that Jesus didn’t say jack about homosexuality, as if that proves something. This tactic is just weird–it’s a kind of hyper-Marcionism, rejecting not just the Old Testament but much of the New. (Actually, Marcion also rejected bits of Paul’s epistles–ed.)

Sullivan doesn’t just have a problem with the Church’s teaching on birth control, or same-sex snuggling, or chick priests, or, I don’t know, the relevance of the Pauline epistles. Throughout his posts on sexual morality, there’ve been these nifty hints that he’s actually getting at a morality “generous” enough to include promiscuity. But only for some! Only for the “nonconformists” among us. Can I just say, for the record, that is so cool. Where do I sign up as a nonconformist? I mean hey, I want this Get Out Of Confession Free card as much as anybody!

In all honesty, I have no idea what Sullivan’s getting at with his (strongly implied, and occasionally stated, cf. the afterword to Virtually Normal) praise of promiscuity, or why it has any connection whatsoever to a Catholic understanding of erotic love. (Which includes physical fidelity–because the body means something, it’s part of our identity, and thus when we give ourselves to one another that gift includes our bodies. “With my body I thee worship,” as the Anglican marriage service used to say.) I do know that suggesting that anyone who feels that he’s a sexual “nonconformist” gets to play around is like issuing a License to Use. Mostly, women would be the losers–we have this nasty habit of getting pregnant. But even if you take pregnancy out of the equation, playing the field undermines marriage (unless you really look forward to comparing your wife’s sexual habits to your previous encounters–and being compared in turn) and alienates us from our bodies. Bodies (our own and others’) become things we use to attain pleasure, rather than part of what makes people who we are. Treating sex casually trivializes it. It drains the meaning from one of the most meaningful areas of life. We want sex because it’s important–it gets all tangled up with our emotions, hopes, and best desires. But in order to get all the sex we want, “free love” types must pretend sex is unimportant. It’s just something you do; why should you save it for the one you love? In many ways, it was rejecting that view of sex-as-candy that led me to investigate the Catholic faith. And I rejected the “free love” view partly because of literature–can anybody really be an English major and still believe sex is just a human activity with no deeper meaning?–and partly because my whole life, my fears, alienation, desires, ideals, made no sense if sex was just play. Sullivan, like many other writers (and like me, pre-conversion), tries to work both sides of the street: Sex is so important that it’s the only way homosexuals can show love, therefore the Church’s position on homosexual acts is evil; and yet it’s so unimportant that it doesn’t mean much if you’re unfaithful. There are problems with both of these positions, but c’mon people, let’s at least try to coordinate our stories here!

So OK, enough of this “nonconformity” stuff–although it runs like a red thread throughout several of Sullivan’s posts (and published writing) on these subjects. But let’s leave it for now and move on to the other big lurking question: What is Church authority, and why would anyone ever submit to it?