Against "Singleness"

On One of My Least Favorite Concepts

Photo by Hannah Busing on Unsplash

For many years, in describing the life I feel called to pursue as a gay Christian man who holds to what is often called a “traditional sexual ethic,”¹ I used the words “singleness” and “celibacy” interchangeably. In doing so, I tried to communicate that because I am exclusively attracted to men, because I see it as very unlikely that I will experience a radical transformation of my same-sex attraction into opposite-sex attraction (and honestly, that does not seem like a very good trade), and because I just do not want to pursue marriage, I have decided to pursue sexually abstinence. And for a long time, this meant I would not pursue a life partnership, which seemed to me to resemble marriage too closely. 

But a lot has changed since then: I have realized that sexual attraction plays a much less significant role in my life than it does in the lives of others, I have opened up to the possibility of a life partnership, and I have become increasingly aware of the grip that idolatry of sex, marriage, and the nuclear family has on large portions of our cultures in the United States. I have come to believe the word "singleness" is a poor description of the life I feel called to pursue, and now prefer to use the word “celibacy”.

Here’s a few of the reasons why:

1. “Singleness" communicates a lack of relational connection; “celibacy” more specifically communicates foregoing sex and marriage.

Celibacy does not prevent one from having deep relationships or intimacy with others; the relationships and intimacy a celibate person has just looks different than marriage. In many cases, celibacy allows for more relationships, not less. “Singleness” is less a description than a negation, and can unintentionally make it sound like unmarried people are singular, isolated from others. No one should be singular!

Whether married or celibate, many relationships are open to us: not only our own nuclear and extended families, but also the diverse array of friendships we cultivate over our lifetime. For Christians, we all belong to the family of God, a vast web of relationships, full of intimacy. All followers of Christ (and particularly those followers of Christ who have sacrificed significant stability and relationships to follow Christ) have homes and siblings and mothers and fathers and children (see Mark 10:29).

When I made a decision to trust Jesus with my sexuality and pursue celibacy, I was unsure how my relational needs would be met. But I have thankfully never been under the impression that isolation is what is required of me. We know that it is not good for human beings to be alone (see Genesis 2:18), and this does not mean that everyone should be married, but that everyone should have community. “Celibacy,” contrary to “singleness,” helpfully highlights sexual abstinence (which I am called to pursue) and not lack of relationships (which I am not called to pursue). 

2. “Singleness” can tend to erase the unique relational opportunity being unmarried and sexually abstinent affords.

In either marriage or celibacy, there is opportunity cost. (Important note: I will be speaking in generalities here, but there are plenty of unique situations in both marriage and celibacy which require a bit more nuance: Josephite marriages, married couples who cannot have children, celibate partnerships, etc.) In marriage, one gives up freedom, mobility, and a significant chunk of time spent with others to focus on a spouse (and children). In celibacy, one gives up the stability and intimacy of marriage and children to focus on serving God, as well as on relationships other than marriage. Both present real relational losses as well as relational opportunities. 

Sex and marriage are so idolized in our culture at large and our churches, that the opportunities of celibacy—not just for freedom and mobility, but actually for relationship—are ignored, because they are not sex and marriage. Being unmarried is assumed to be a void to be filled, or a wound to be tended to, rather than a state of life that affords many gifts, including much opportunity for relational fulfillment. I think that the word “celibacy” lends itself better to this vision than “singleness.”

3. “Singleness” is usually understood as unintentional and temporary; “celibacy” communicates intentionality and has a ring of permanence.

In large portions of our culture, sexual relationships, marriage, and children are understood to be the main goals of life, a large part of what makes life worth living. So when “singleness” is discussed, it is typically seen as an unfortunate and temporary state that will eventually give way to marriage—a state no one would choose for themselves. Don’t worry, sad single friend, we’ll help you find your “other half”!

But my choice to forego sex and marriage (and to benefit from the gifts that celibacy affords) is not a problem, but the acceptance of a beautiful gift. It is the vocation of choice for heroes of the faith (including the apostle Paul, and Jesus himself), and the ultimate destiny of all in the resurrection (in which marriage as we know it will pass away, see Mark 12:25, Matthew 22:30, Luke 20:35-36). The celibate life is the celestial life, the life of the angels in heaven which our lives will resemble in the resurrection. This vision inspires me to pursue celibacy for life. The word “celibacy” seems to me to be more easily understood as intentionally chosen and potentially permanent. 

4. “Celibacy” and “singleness” are not good synonyms, because celibacy does not strictly require going without life partnership.

For many of y’all, this may seem like a newfangled idea, a product of the sexual revolution that is foreign to the Church and imposed on her from the outside. “Celibacy” must require singleness, otherwise it will resemble marriage and give the impression that the partners are sexually active!

You might be surprised to learn that the idea that celibacy can be pursued in the context of a partnership between two people is at least as old as the fourth century, during which some monks in the Egyptian desert understood their celibate vocation as bound together with that of one of their fellow monks—and the roots of this idea are much earlier (while neither David nor Jonathan were celibate, that they could establish a covenantal commitment at least as significant as their respective marriages is richly suggestive). Non-marital partnerships between two members of the same sex took slightly different forms over the years in the East and the West, but they have been practiced in the Christian tradition for many hundreds of years. 

Our modern context is different, and that shapes this way of life. The spiritual foundations and nuances of celibacy are not very well understood. The lens through which we view celibate partnerships is colored by sexual identity, and this can unhelpfully influence how these relationships are pursued and make it more difficult for some to take them seriously as a genuine part of the tradition. Celibate partnership is pretty unfamiliar, and this could lend itself to the assumption that the partners are sexually active. We have to grapple with the nebulous yet pervasive concept of “romance.” But I would suggest these circumstances can be better addressed with more education, not a refusal to recover a beautiful ancient Christian practice. And “celibacy” is a word that makes this possible; “singleness” is not.

5. “Celibacy” sounds peculiar, and could provoke questions or provide opportunities for deeper conversations.

There is little that is disruptive or out of the ordinary in calling oneself “single”; “celibacy,” however, is unfamiliar and sounds strange. Using the word might encourage people to ask clarifying questions: why would you pursue something as archaic and antiquated as lifelong celibacy? Are you a monk or priest? What values and priorities do you have that would lead you to give up sex for life? (Okay, I admit, this reason might owe a lot to the fact that I enjoy being understood as strange, special, and mysterious, so this might not be a very convincing reason for you!)

…

Of course, a change in language is not a magic bullet that will fix all the possible misunderstandings of my intentionally sex-less and marriage-less existence. But using the word “celibacy,” rather than “singleness,” can point more clearly and naturally toward a biblical vision for sexuality in which both marriage and celibacy are images of our union with Christ—the former illuminating the beauty of that union, and the latter expressing a radical faith that this union is real and coming soon.

1. By “traditional sexual ethic” here, I mean the belief (speaking in broad brush strokes) that sex should be reserved for marriage between one man and one woman for life, and that celibacy is equally valid and beautiful. Look, I know the language has its problems, but I didn’t want to get derailed by too much specificity. If you have a better phrase, let me know!