Sunday, February 21, 2010

Fate worse than death

It used to be that a fate worse than death usually meant that a woman was raped or her virtue dishonoured (especially through the loss of virginity), hence she would be better off dead.

This speaks of how chastity used to be prized and that the act of sexual love was something practised mostly in a monogamous, lifelong relationship called marriage. And rightly so.

Not just because it was good as opposed to sinful, but that the sexual act is one of unitive love for humans, and not merely an act of procreation as it is for the animal kingdom.

Made in God's image, it is in this act of love that we, man and woman, can give ourselves to each other selflessly, allowing us to imbue sex with a wealth of meaning beyond obvious physical pleasure, transforming it into a pledge of committed love and fidelity. (Pardon the TOB* soapbox spiel.)

So chastity, outside of marriage was pretty much a way of life for most people until the sexual revolution in the 60s and the eventual growing acceptance of premarital sex.

Chastity today is, sadly, widely perceived as a curtailment of freedom and personal happiness, but I fail to see how sexual freedom has led to happier individuals, harmonious families and stability in social structures around the world?

Just look at the scores of lonely people who engage in unsafe, risky activities, the rise in the number of sex perverts, paedophiles, rape cases, sexual abuse, divorce rates, single parent families, sexual infidelities, broken relationships and diseases related to non-monogamous sexual activity.

Loneliness and/or involuntarily enforced celibacy is ironically the new fate worse than death, often impelling people to go from sexual encounter to sexual encounter, desperately seeking for love to the extent that they lose their sense of self and dignity. Their bodies no longer respected as sacred vessels but common commodities to be traded, with deadly consequences at times.

In a episode of Oprah, it was reported that a man is now behind bars for knowingly infecting at least six (there were many more) women with HIV and other STDs for he had engaged in multiple, concurrent, unsafe, sexual relationships with usually older, divorced women, and we are not even talking about promiscuous women but educated and successful women who thought they were dating this charming, caring man, very often, exclusively.

Sex taken casually can kill.

In an earlier episode, an ageing woman with bleached hair, wearing a tight-fitting top, felt obligated to go to bed with any stranger who bought her a drink all because she was looking for a man who will love and affirm her as a woman.

Then (in another programme) there was this attractive, single mother who had nine children and embarrassed the older ones because all she wore were the skimpiest ("skanky" was what some people who saw her remarked) outfits on a daily basis, convinced that sexy was an aspirational state of being.

In the latter, these two different women clearly did not want to be alone, without a "man", and saw sexiness as the epitome of feminine sexuality that would enable them to use their bodies to win love.

Not altogether an uncommon belief or practice among both sexes today, given popular culture's celebration of the body as a functional means for financial gain, power, status and satisfying carnal desires.

Just a couple of days back, a friend who is in her late 60s shocked and amused me simultaneously when she suggested I compromise my principle on chastity if I sought a lifelong partner. A. really means well for she wants to see me happily married.

I want to see me married, too, but for all the right reasons, and in the proper, i.e., ordered way. That, for me, involves full participation from God in the selection of "the man", and he, the man, must respect my principles and value me beyond my appearance or accomplishments.

Call me anachronistic, dumb, picky or just plain weird, I admit to being all that.

Sure, there are times I struggle with being single.

There are days when even my great relationship with Jesus falls short. There are days I yearn to cleave to ONE man who amplifies my joys and eases my sorrow as we meet life head-on, together. as one single unit.

However, I would not trade in my chosen way of life, my voluntary celibacy/chastity; for first and foremost, it is but a single aspect of my sexuality and does not define my sense of fulfillment as a woman; and secondly, I have not felt as liberated or fulfilled as at present time, when I am able to express myself freely and love fully, growing into my potential as a woman, regardless of my marital status.

This all brings me back to the genesis of this blog entry. A reflection on death that led to curiosity over the etymology of the phrase "a fate worse than death".

Is death that fearsome? And what could be feared more than death, if it is?

For me, many things can be feared more than death, for in itself, death is merely an altered state of consciousness and the promise of a new, joyous and perfectly complete beginning.

But the definitive fate worse than death is the absence of God, in His trinitarian identities, in my life. An existence not graced by faith.

Take it from one who has been there, it can be hellish.

* Pope John Paul II's Theology of the Body

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