If like me, you grew up in a certain kind of religious community, you will have been exposed to angst-ridden attitudes toward the theme of sex.
I remember being aged 11 or 12 and sitting at the breakfast table, about to consume a plate of pancakes doused in the most wonderful maple syrup and a side of delicious sausages, when my mother suddenly decided it was time for ‘the talk’. You know what ‘talk’ I mean! All I recollect was an unnatural awkwardness in the conversation – which really is to exaggerate any two-way dynamic on the occasion – as I looked uncomfortably down at the table, aware that my appetite for breakfast was rapidly dissipating as my mother, obviously uncomfortable herself, quickly delivered ‘the talk’.
Worst breakfast ever.
You may recall that this article is the third of a series that take their point of departure from the 10 grave precepts of Buddhism. The precepts are more descriptions of what we are most deeply at our best as human beings. No doubt a philosophical assumption, but there it is. The first precept addressed was: ‘Affirm life; do not kill’; and the second: ‘Be giving; do not steal’.
The third precept, embraced by Buddhists who make a commitment to living out the ethos of this set of ethical values, is expressed in terms as honouring others’ bodies: ‘Honour the body; do not misuse sexuality’.
In other words, do not sexually exploit another person. The pertinence of this precept is no doubt evident in the pervasive sexual objectification of others via readily accessible pornography and the tropes in wider media culture. The word ‘chastity’ is often interpreted along lines of sexual abstinence and sexual responsibility. Frequently the word is used in the context of a regime fit more to lifestyles chosen by nuns, monks and friars across different religious traditions. It is often a concept that religious people get hung up about and channelled into narrow – sometimes neurotic – understandings around sexuality.
I can still recall some of the most outlandish and misinformed views presented to my peers and me growing up by well-intended nuns and clergy. I suspect most contemporary Catholics would vouch that things have changed considerably over the decades since I was a child. By the way, may I plug here an excellent text: Just Love: A Framework for Sexual Ethics by Sr. Margaret Farley.
It is on this note of justice that the idea of chastity is understood in its broadest meaning. I am a member of the Third Order of the Society of St. Francis – the Anglican branch of the Franciscan Order. The Third Order is opened to people, ordained or not, whether single or in relationships. (Yes, I am your typical Anglo-Catholic, charismatic, Zen Buddhist type of Christian!) The principles and vows to which we subscribe as a member of the Third Order include the aim of actively pursuing a just and harmonious social order. The language in which this aim is couched, i.e. ‘chastity’, is particularly interesting in this context:
Members of the Third Order fight against all injustice in the name of Christ, in whom there can be neither Jew or Greek, slave nor free, male nor female; for in him all are one. Our chief object is to reflect that openness to all which was the characteristic of Jesus. This can only be achieved in a spirit of chastity, which sees others as ends belonging to God [i.e., by extension, as ends in themselves] and not as a means of self-fulfilment. (The emphasis is mine.)
The core value of chastity here – and in the third precept – has less to do with sex and more to do with how we relate to other people, and other bodies. This has wide implications for social, political and spiritual life.
It urges on us the recognition that others are indeed ends in themselves and not there to be used for our own ends; and, at its deepest level, this recognition entails an awareness of our own complicity in states of affairs where other bodies are exploited and injustices perpetrated; and structures of privilege maintain that advantage us, even if we have not historically or directly been involved in those acts of oppression. The virtue of chastity, then, is profoundly political and summons us to serve a greater good beyond our own selfish ends and to think in terms of ‘we / us’ instead of only 'me'.
Had my mother realised this, the conversation at the breakfast might have been very different – and I would certainly have enjoyed those pancakes.