SONG FOR A FUTURE GENERATION: OK, my thoughts on many different issues raised in response to my “Romoeroticism” piece.

“Beauty is an encroachment upon autonomy.” (C. Paglia): It’s been instructive to me that 90% of the comments I’ve received on the piece have been about this idea of vowed same-sex friendship, since, to be perfectly honest, that was a last-minute addition! And perhaps an ill-timed one, see below. I do have a lot to say about vowed friendship.

But maybe the other elements of my “Romoeroticism” piece are more fruitful, even though I have less to say about them. I think there’s an immense amount of work yet to be done on how Catholicism’s insistence on sexual difference may make the Church more attractive to gay people; I think Miss Ogilvy is right to suggest that talking about “gay as a genre” would illuminate in some way the difficulties of our current cultural moment and the possibilities for transcending them. And yet I have nothing left to say about that! HELP ME OUT, PEOPLE. Yes?

You can go your own way…: And, although in what follows I will be primarily talking about vowed friendships, I’d also challenge us to consider how we can foster friendships and extended forms of kinship outside of the formal vow. Can we make it culturally normal to take a leave from work because your friend needs you? Can we honor and respect godsiblinghood in the public sphere, giving that relationship the kind of weight and acknowledgment we give to blood kinship?

In Gay Marriage: Why It Is Good for Gays, Good for Straights, And Good for America, Jonathan Rauch lists off a bunch of cultural markers of the importance of marriage: When you’re married, people ask after your spouse, and you’re expected to know how your spouse is doing. Your family treats your spouse as part of their family: holiday photos, concerned questions, understanding that your obligations to the spouse and her family may conflict with your obligations to your family of origin. Your boss and your coworkers understand that the pictures on your desk represent ties of love and obligation, as deep as any human ties we know. Breaking up with your spouse is a tragedy, a publicly-acknowledged heartbreak. You’re not expected to mourn that loss alone, just as you’re not expected to bear the burdens of caring for and serving your spouse with no social support.

The thing is… these markers of kinship were not always restricted to marriage. (And, as I said before, in some communities in America today they are still not all restricted to marriage.) If marriage is the only form of kinship we recognize, all other loves will be treated as lesser, as purely private. When only marriage counts, should we be surprised that marriage is overburdened? Should we be surprised that Americans report far fewer close relationships than in the past? You get more of what you honor; we’ve withdrawn from any form of public honor for nonmarital chosen kinship.

Forget the vow thing for a moment and ask yourself whether there are things you can change in your own life–in your role as boss or coworker, in the questions you ask your children, in the invitations you extend for family gatherings, in the degree to which you are willing to sacrifice pride or time or money for another person–which would support and strengthen your own friendships and those of the people you love. If you can think of any way to make devoted friendship more normal… maybe do that thing, you know? Even if you disagree with me on everything else.

“Steady, Eddie…”: But now, vows, since I do actually want to talk about them!

I think I messed up, in writing about this concept first for a piece about Gay Catholic Whatnot. In my own personal head, this was never an exclusively gay concept, though I think it should be obvious why it would be especially interesting to gay Catholics. But I thought at least as much about the many elderly women who make their homes, in their widowhood, with their best friends. A lot of families have these friendship pairs; a lot of families continue to care for the woman who is unrelated by blood, even after her blood-relation best friend dies. These are the “Aunties” who aren’t really Grandma’s sister. A formal vow might not matter to most of them; to some, however, it might seem as beautiful an acknowledgment of lifelong loyalty as it does to me.

Then there are veterans; then there are “straight” men who have virtually no way of articulating love for another man. I know that straight guys aren’t allowed to talk about beauty and gay stuff like that!–but maybe that’s also something we can change in our culture. It certainly isn’t a good feature of contemporary American life.

One thing I really like about the possibility of renewing this tradition is precisely that it would offer so much solidarity, so much common recognition, between disparate groups. I won’t denigrate my own concerns: Even if vowed friendship comes to be a “chaste gay thing,” it will still be shockingly beautiful and entirely worthy of honor. But I hope these vows actually offer an expansion of our vocabulary of love and kinship for everyone.

If I am astonishingly lucky, and this form of kinship is in fact renewed, I strongly suspect it will take several different forms. I would argue that the basics should still involve the Eucharist, a pledge of mutual loyalty and loving care, a promise to care for one another’s families, and a promise that the longest-surviving friend will arrange for Masses to be said for the souls of both friends. (Friendship always exists in the shadow of death, because it does not produce children. That’s one reason the art of friendship is death-haunted from Augustine to the Weakerthans. And it’s one reason that some form of fruitfulness and union beyond death should be a part of vowed friendship.) But other features of traditional friendship vows, such as living together, will vary. I wouldn’t necessarily be surprised if men’s friendships end up with somewhat different norms than women’s, though I couldn’t predict how, and I’d also be relatively unsurprised if they end up looking basically the same.

I know I keep saying this, but again I want to emphasize that this is lab research in theology: As with any tradition, you can’t control it; you can only attempt, with rhetoric and the example of your life, to guide the river. I don’t know how friendship will look in a hundred years, or even how it should look. I can rule things out, but I can’t set up an ideal model. All I can do is suggest things we might try.

Thorns of the Mystical Rose: I do want to address one strain of argumentation I’ve noticed, which is basically to point out ways in which intense, devoted friendships (whether vowed or not) can be dangerous if you are attracted to your friend but cannot marry her. Because yeah: That’s a danger. There are many friendships in which the best response is greater distance, a cooling-off.

But I absolutely do not believe that is true of all such relationships. Here are three angles of approach to that question (and I know I’m not disposing of every possible argument here, but I hope I’m at least giving food for thought):

1) All manner of pious practices can be misused, can become covers for sin. And yet at the Easter Mass I still got a plenary indulgence, you know? Cat’licks are always arguing that danger is not an argument against beautiful devotion–that the misuse doesn’t crowd out the use.

2) I am quite sure that a friendship vowed and sealed publicly in the Eucharist, in front of family and friends who know that these two friends have pledged fidelity not only to one another but to the Gospel and to Jesus Christ, is more likely to be chaste than a friendship which is purely private, often treated by others as trivial, and granted no religious significance.

3) If unintended–and explicitly disclaimed!–consequences can argue against a pious practice, may I please deploy that reasoning against the pious practice of stating that the Catholic Church offers no way of honoring same-sex love? Because the unintended consequence of that act is atheism, when it isn’t self-destruction.

So maybe we should accept that what we do and say can be misused and misunderstood, but it might still be worth doing and saying. She said, with a hint of acid.

No humility without humiliation: If you do want to make vows of same-sex friendship, I suspect you are in for a much harder time than Robin Darling Young had–especially if you’re gay (whether or not your friend is gay also, and whether or not you’re even attracted to her!). You will need to explain yourself, at tedious length I’d guess, to priests upon priests. You will need to figure out some way of introducing your friend which makes it clear both that she is part of your heart’s landscape and that the two of you are not sexually active. I can say from experience that the whole “I’m gay but chaste because of my religion” conversation is humiliating and awkward and you feel like an ass.

All of this is good for your own spiritual life, and also necessary to prevent scandal. But you should be prepared. Public love has public consequences.

And we have not yet developed a beautiful public language. You can be a pioneer!

Call it what you want, you’ve got a home here: So why is it worth it? Why would anyone bother with the dilemmas, both old (spouse vs. friend is a theme the old ballads knew well) and new (“I dance around in a gay, gay way, but I’m not gay!”)? Why bother with the humiliation? And in my case, why bother with the argument?

Well… for me it’s easy. I mean, first of all, on the lower level, the conversation around gay stuff in the Church can get so stifling and polarized! I desperately want to let in some oxygen, give people some sense that our contemporary battles and jargon are not the sum total of Catholic faith, good God. But there’s also something more.

For years and years I’ve seen the beauty of friendship. I’ve seen this unacknowledged, barely-supported love turn the water of our culture into wine. And then, not only did I find a way of honoring that love–so much more than that! I found a way of exalting it. To draw the strong wine of friendship into the Body and Blood of the Eucharist… it’s breathtaking. You know, you can all but hear Alan Bray catching his breath when he first sees the tomb of two devoted men friends… and years later, reading his book, I reacted the same way. There’s a feeling when your heart finds its home, and that home is so much more than you ever dreamed.

How could I not want to shout this from the rooftops?