The sexual inhibition of the Victorian era was challenged in the 1920's. The revolt focused on clothing styles, relational rituals and dance steps. This shift anticipated the sexual revolution of the 1960's, which was characterised by acceptance of public nudity, explicit discussion of sex, a more permissive attitude towards extra-marital relationships and an accommodation of divorce as a legitimate and sometimes necessary means of terminating destructive relationships.

The result

      One would have imagined that these changes, by demystifying sex, would have led to a healthier, more comfortable and less hypocritical attitude towards sexuality.

      Contemporary attitudes are not necessarily more healthy. Recognition that sexuality is central to personal identity, rather than liberating us from our sexual neuroticism, appears to have increased it. We need to be mature to manage freedom healthily. Sexual freedom is no exception. The liberalisation of sexual mores does not appear to have fostered fulfilling, secure relationships. Distortions remain, and may even have increased.

      What we have witnessed is genitalisation of sexuality, increasing emphasis on performance and depersonalisation of sex. Sex has become mechanistic, a recreational past-time. The expectation of what it will deliver has been exaggerated, resulting in disappointment and disillusionment. The element of mystery, which preserved interest, has disappeared, as has the capacity to enjoy more than a physiological climax.

      Our greatest loss lies in the fact that we have sexualised the whole of life. This has, if anything, increased our sexual neuroticism. As a Jungian friend of Joseph Campbell argued, the neurotic interprets everything in term of infantile sexuality.¹

      Blatant sexual display has also deprived our children of their innocence and of the delights of a progressive, age [121] appropriate discovery of the mysteries of their sexuality. Furthermore, teenagers, young adults, and sometimes very young children find themselves under enormous pressure to conform to sexual expectations. This trend has fostered a relationally debilitating promiscuity.

      The in-your-face parade of sexuality has not delivered us from sexual hypocrisy, but has merely altered the form it takes. Our hypocrisy lies in our unwillingness to admit that we do not enjoy lovemaking to the extent to which we imply we do. This is evidence of slavish conformity to social mores. We are repeating the mistake of our Victorian forebears, without having solved their dilemma.

Historical roots

      Our sexual attitudes are a casualty of the body-spirit dualism that makes Westerners uncomfortable with their bodies.

The Graeco-Roman Empire

      This attitude contrasts with the celebration of the body in early Greek society. The Greeks were not embarrassed by their bodies. Athletes ran naked. Statues celebrated physical beauty unashamedly. Men and women wore amulets depicting the penis and vulva.

      A change became evident in the later phases of the Roman Empire, when Rome, which had grown soft and vulnerable, was threatened by Barbarians hordes. Reformers attempted to arrest the decline with puritanical sexual codes.

      This process was accelerated when Christianity became the accepted religion of the Empire. As Bryan Strong and Christine DeVault argue, it was the Judaeo-Christian tradition, and not Graeco-Roman culture, that was responsible for associating sex with sin and degradation.²

      In the Graeco-Roman world, sex was not linked to morality. Morality was associated with social behaviour, with the extent to which one participated in the life of the state. The Greeks, and after them the early Romans, linked sex with religion and magic. [122]

The Hebrews

      The Hebrews were not embarrassed by sex. Sexual encounters were interpreted in the context of laws governing possessions. A man's wife was regarded as his possession. He owned her sexuality, her reproductive potential. Adultery constituted interference with his property rights.

      The Hebrews did not have a morality dealing specifically with the nuances of human sexuality. We are in a similar position. As Jung argued, we do not have a sexual morality. What we do have is a legalistic attitude towards sexuality.³

      The Hebrews also lacked a distinctive terminology with which to discuss sexual issues. Agricultural analogies were generally used. Intercourse was likened to ploughing. You plant your seed in your own field, not in a field belonging to another man. You did not have intercourse with your wife when she was menstruating because, if you did, your plough would get stuck in the mud. Your wife produced children as your field produced grain.

      These agricultural analogies persist and are reflected in the comment by Sam Keen that sexual intercourse is essentially a matter of ploughing and planting, a sowing of seed that will result in the birth of a child.⁴

Christianity

      Christianity, an offshoot of Judaism and heir to the body-denying pessimism of the late Roman Empire, contributed to the body-mind dualism that became endemic in the West. The exaggeration of this dichotomy, under the Church's influence, was reflected in an early fascination with celibacy. By the 4th Century, celibacy was considered compulsory for intending priests.

Augustine

      This trend was evident in the experience of Augustine, an African Church Father of the 4th century, who deeply influenced the Church's teaching on sexuality. [123]

      Augustine was born 354 CE in Tagaste, in Numidia, to a pagan father and Christian mother. At the age of seventeen, as was customary, he took a concubine. After an initial fascination with Stoicism, Augustine was drawn to Manichaeism, which discouraged sexual activity. While a Manichean, Augustine struggled with the demand for celibacy. He prayed "give me continence, but not yet." Following a study of oratory, he was appointed to a post in Milan, where he encountered Bishop Ambrose. He found Ambrose' Neoplatonism, with its elements of body-spirit dualism, attractive. However, it was as a consequence of reading a passage from Paul's Letter to the Romans, in a friend's backyard, that Augustine finally committed himself to Christianity. It was interesting, given his previous Manichean commitment and the attraction of Neoplatonism, that the passage that spoke to him urged an avoidance of drunken, debauched behaviour.⁵

      As a consequence of this experience, Augustine dismissed the woman with whom he had been living, and who had born him a son. This action was consistent with contemporary expectation. Christian athletes, serious about their faith, embraced celibacy. For those who were married, it meant forsaking their families.

      Nevertheless, this was not the end of Augustine's struggle with his sexuality. Deeply passionate, he continued to be taunted by his sexuality.

      Augustine, not surprisingly, associated sin with sexual desire. According to Augustine, children are born of their parents' lust. Original sin, deriving from Adam, is passed on through the act of sexual intercourse.

      The body-spirit dualism of the late Roman Empire, which deeply influenced Christianity, was reinforced by Augustine's sexual neuroticism. This neuroticism resulted from the interaction of philosophic dualism and the curtailment of sexual activity that was mandated by that dualism. The negative attitude towards sexuality, reflected in the writings of Augustine and other celibate Church Fathers, continues to bedevil, not only the Church, but also Western society. [124]

A suggestion

      Ken Wilber suggests that the emergence of mind-body dualism in the late Roman Empire, which influenced the Church and Western society, coincided with the broader transition from the Mythic-Membership era to the Mental-Egoic era in the development of human consciousness.

      Wilber argues that the body enjoyed an honoured place in the great agricultural societies of the ancient East, where the Great Mother, the goddess of fertility, was worshipped. However, with the development of reason, the cognitively self-conscious ego began differentiating itself from the body. However, it did not merely distinguish itself from the body, which was necessary; it also dissociated itself from it. This dissociation was reflected in the body-denying philosophies of the late Roman Empire and in the theology of the early Church fathers.⁶

Sexist dualism

      The spiritual dualism that separated body and mind fostered sexual dualism, reinforcing the pathological underside of patriarchal structures. Women were regarded as inferior and were made the scapegoats of men's discomfort with their feelings and sexuality. Women were considered irrational, sexual viragos. An obvious case of projection! Karen Armstrong has perceptively argued that, while Eastern women shared with their Western sisters the burden of inferiority, it was the latter who were demonised for their sexuality.⁷

      Understandably, women have replied in kind, with their own caricaturing of men. This mutual abuse contributed to misunderstanding, and, for a time, advanced the notion that the differences between men and women were due to nothing more than socialisation. The latter diminished the intrigue and excitement associated with gender differences. As Joseph Campbell argued, the unisex idea destroys the polarity and therefore the energy.⁸ [125]

Many dimensions

      Human sexuality is multi-dimensional.

Evolution

      Species survival and evolution have been dependent on sex.

      Sociobiologists argue that males are genetically wired to propagate their genes by impregnating as many women as possible. In most animal communities, it is a dominant male, endowed with genes fostering dominance, who impregnates the majority of females. The fittest do the propagating. Females, on the other hand, scout for males with superior potential.

      Sex represents a powerful genetic imperative. As Jung argued, sex, because it binds us all, is both important and dreaded.⁹

Gender

      Sexuality is also associated with gender.

      Gender is determined, biologically, by our chromosomes, gonads and the hormonal concoctions these gonads secrete. The gender we feel ourselves to be, as distinct from the gender our genetic potential promises, is a function of the interplay of these three factors during the development of the foetus in-utero.

      Research suggests that the circuitry and chemistry of men and women's brains are different.¹⁰ These differences influence and are influenced by socialisation. The importance of socialisation has been highlighted by Polly Young-Eisendrath, who argues that gender has to do with meaning, role, power and privilege.¹¹

Gender preference

      It would appear that gender preference is also a function of the process of brain-sexing in-utero.

      We all begin life as females. It is the secretion of testosterone, in those who are genetically male, which affects the change. There is evidence to suggest that it is the sexing of the brain, particularly the mid-brain, which effects gender preference. In some males, the switch in gender preference, apparently in the hypothalamus, does [126] not occur, or results in a slight rather than a significant shift.¹² There is further evidence to indicate that this phenomenon is genetically influenced and that it is through the mother that the genetic predisposition is passed on.¹³ While few would want to argue that there is a single cause of male homosexuality, it is obvious that genetics does play a significant role. It is likely that a similar dynamic influences women's gender preferences.

Attraction

      Gender preference is associated with attraction. Attraction can lead to infatuation, and, on occasions, to a commitment of time and resources to an ensuing relationship.

      Infatuation frequently results from projection. We project onto the other person an idealised image, a pastiche of experiences and cultural expectations. The process is powered by genital longing, by a desire to merge with another in the hope of overcoming our existential aloneness, and by anticipation that the other will compensate for what is missing in us. We are often attracted by similar or complimentary pathologies.

      It can be argued that beauty is in the eye of the beholder. Different cultures regard different physical characteristics as attractive.

      Some men heeded early feminist rhetoric suggesting that what women were looking for was sensitivity, a listening ear and a sharing of child rearing and household chores. However, many of these sensitive new age guys discovered that the very women who urged these changes on them spurned the products their rhetoric created. The reason for this, as J. Kramer and D. Dunaway have argued, is that women are generally attracted to strong male libido, to powerful and successful men. From this, they concluded that the less successful have less opportunity to engage the most attractive partners. The successful have first choice.¹⁴ [127]

Relationships

      Sexuality is also associated with a capacity for forming mature relationships. Infatuation, fuelled by sexual desire, may mature into a committed relationship.

      Because of differences between men and women, there is often confusion over what a partner may be anticipating. As a rough rule of thumb, men want sex, and are hopeful of discovering intimacy through sex. Women are more concerned with the relational aspects of the encounter and will enthusiastically participate in sex as a consequence of a satisfying relationship.

      A misogynous reading of this dynamic would see the man lured into a relationship by a deliberate sexual provocation. He takes the bait and is hooked. For her part, the woman could just as easily contend that the man cultivated her with a pseudo-relationship so that he could take advantage of her.

      The interface between sexual and relational longing is a fruitful source of misperception and misunderstanding. As Jung argued, one would expect that a couple, after intercourse, would relate more closely. The opposite is often the case. Intercourse is often followed by misunderstandings and fights. The reason for this is that sexuality does not nurture Eros.¹⁵

      While infatuation, culminating in instant sexual gratification, can lead to a committed relationship, this does not always happen. As Keen remarked, the availability of contraception has enabled us to avoid the question of intention.¹⁶

      Commitment in a relationship will enhance the genital expression of sexuality. Frequent sex will also nurture the relationship. Nevertheless, the frequency of sexual intercourse between committed couples diminishes over time. This is a result of many factors--the presence and demands of children, familiarity with each other and a reduction in the amount of testosterone secreted by the male. Men reach their sexual prime around the age of 18. A woman's sexual potency peaks in her 40's. For many women, however, interest can wain as a result of neglect, violence, incest, or rape. This disinterest is more pervasive than many men recognise. Polly Young-Eisendrath reported [128] discovering a general lack of sexual desire in heterosexual women.¹⁷

Damage

      Because sexuality is so central to our lives, our capacity for wholeness is severely damaged by sexual dysfunction or abuse. Richard Rohr, of the New Jerusalem Community in the United States, has argued that our sexuality is the most damaged aspect of our humanity.¹⁸ On the other hand, a healthy expression of sexuality, involving a capacity for sensuous enjoyment, will help develop our human potential.

Spiritualising sex

      It is important that we avoid over-spiritualising sex, or the act of lovemaking. There is an earthiness about both. If we spiritualise sex, and thereby repress its energies, we are in danger of promoting what we are seeking to avoid. As Jung argued, the spiritualising of sex, being a form of repression, can result in a descent into sexual orgy.¹⁹

      The caution against over-spiritualising sex is not meant to imply that there is no connection between sex and soul, or sexuality and spirituality. As James Broughton argued, sex can give us entry to the bliss that is hidden in our deepest being.²⁰ James Saslow has similarly commented that our sexual relationships can give us insight into cosmic energies.²¹ Gerald May goes even further, contending that the sexual drive and our yeaning for God are connected, in the sense that the attraction both exhibit has a common root.²² Nietzsche, approaching the interface between spirituality and sexuality, has argued that the highest spiritual values may derive their worth from the deepest sensuality.²³

Spirituality and sexuality

      Sexuality and spirituality are intimately connected. Both are associated with the core of the bodyself. [129]

      Urban Holmes has argued that spirituality and sexuality are connected in three ways. First, both are dynamic, in the sense that they are an expression of Eros, of a warm, uniting love. Second, both are dialogical, involving a communication at depth. Third, both are teleological, expressing the movement of the self towards union with itself, with others and with God.²⁴

      Similarities between sexuality and spirituality abound. Both involve unqualified love and commitment, self-giving and the loss of self in the other. Both require a degree of vulnerability and the surrender of self-control. Both engage the deepest part of the self and reflect an attempt to find self in the other. Both reflect a desire for transcendence, and represent an attempt to over-come our separateness, our aloneness. Both promise enjoyment, well-being, even ecstasy.

      It is hardly surprising that some Christian commentators have interpreted the Song of Songs, a celebration of sexual love, as a depiction of the relationship between Christ and the Church.²⁵ While they may have been partially motivated by a theological aversion to sex, the fact that they made the connection between sexuality and spirituality is significant.

      According to Jung, descriptions of the mystic's union with the Saviour are redolent with erotic libido.²⁶ Certainly, sexual imagery is evident in the prayers of Teresa of Avila. It is for this reason that Lorenzo Bernini (1598-1680) depicted Teresa in a sculpture, where her head is tossed back, her eyes closed and her mouth open in the manner of a woman in orgasm. Over her stands an angelic being with a dart raised to pierce her soul.

      When Thomas Merton, a celebrated Trappist monk, was in his fifties, he was hospitalised for a haemorrhoidectomy. While in hospital, he fell in love with a nurse. This experience turned his attention to Eve, to Mary, and to Hagia Sofia, or holy wisdom, Christian symbols of the feminine in God. There was an unconscious association between his love for the nurse and his feel for the nature of the cosmos and the god who created it.²⁷

      This close connection between sexuality and spirituality is also reflected in our dreams. [130]

      Illustrating this connection, Urban Holmes recounted the dream of a priest, who was both fascinated and alarmed by what his dreaming mind concocted. At the time, he was embroiled in controversy in his parish. His ministry was challenged, which caused him deep emotional pain. During this time he was supported by two nuns. The dream was brief. Christ was hanging on the cross and was comforted by the nuns, who were stroking him in an obviously sexual manner. The priest, in his distress, identified with Christ's passion. His pain, however, was an occasion of grace, largely because of the support of the two women, whose femininity was identified with his genital longing and with the more generalised longing for oneness and acceptance that is the inner core of our sexual desire.²⁸

      It can be argued that there is a sacred dimension to our sexuality. As Morton and Barbara Kelsey argue, sexuality is a sacrament, in the sense that it is an outward sign of an invisible grace.²⁹ This sacredness, however, is not present in all sexual encounters. Keen draws a useful distinction between spirited and desecrated sexuality, contending that the former brings people together, while, at the same time, honouring their singularity. It also enables them to surrender their individuality to the relationship and to something beyond the relationship that is hidden in the secret of a togetherness that is greater than the sum of their two individualities.

      One result of this type of encounter is that the other is not treated as an object, but an inviolable and complex human being.³⁰

      Continuing with this theme, Keen contended that those who come together, with respect for each other's separateness, engage, in their love-making, in a sacramental dance, which unites both into a communion of being. This sort of love-making has the capacity to foster wisdom and compassion.³¹

Love-making

      The expression of our sexuality is enriched, rather than desecrated, when we approach love-making with respect for our partner, for their uniqueness and integrity. [131]

      It is also important that love-making be free from compulsiveness born of the need to perform or satisfy. Passion, and an element of lust, are positive ingredients. Playfulness is important, as is a shelving of expectations. We should flow with the grace-filled moment.

      Love-making, in a committed relationship, helps develop the sort of intimacy that is the goal towards which our sexual encounters draw us. In the long term, the need for intimacy, for unity, is more foundational than the need for sex. This insight, the product of our mature years, appears to run counter to the evolutionary explanation of sexual potency, outlined earlier in the chapter. However, the two explanations are not necessarily contradictory. It may be the case that the need for intimacy is as genetically determined as is the need for sex. [132]

[LS 121-132]