When Dad was working on the car, he didn't really need a hyper-distractable, poorly-coordinated ragamuffin clattering through the garage. Without me knocking over oil cans and mixing up the ratchet sizes, he could certainly have finished his labors more quickly and with less exasperation. But because he's my dad and he wanted to give me a part in the work, he let me fetch the tools while he handled the parts that I couldn't understand.
When God wants to create an everlasting soul, He doesn't need our help. He made the angels; He made Adam and Eve; and He made the Word Made Flesh with only half of our usual involvement. But He's our dad and He wants us to be a part of the process.
Adam was given only two commands, one negative and one positive. Don't eat that fruit—and go have tons of sex. Because fruitfulness and multiplication allow us to play a part in bringing forth actual people, actual souls, sex is the greatest of all creative endeavors and thus one of the greatest of all pleasures. In the exact etymological sense, it is ecstatic: it calls us out of ourselves. Even in the most corrupt and twisted of cultures, even in the uttermost chasms of nihilism, nearly every human alive still wants sex. That's how much radiance glimmers through, no matter what landfills of muck we heap on top of that ancient and luminous gift.
At some point, the micro-Toner is bound to want to know where she came from and how. I guess the easiest way to address the issue without having to use any variation of the word "loins" is to say that a piece of Ellie and a piece of me get mixed together to make a body, and the Holy Spirit gives it a soul. On reflection, I'm not sure that (apart from a whole passel of details) theology and medical science together can provide any more accurate description of the process.
And now I want to see if I can address one of the most delicate of all subjects without appearing to occupy any manner of pulpit (especially since I can assure you that I personally hold no moral high ground whatsoever). As Catholics, we shall certainly raise our kid Catholic, and that will mean teaching her that she oughtn't have sex with anyone except her lawful spouse. I do think that, maybe more than any other single thing, this is the teaching that makes people angry with the Church, and I hope to be able to explain it adequately to my offspring. Remember that the Church only has the authority to teach the Truth, not to make it or to change it; she doesn't impose the laws upon us, but only tries to help us follow the laws that are intrinsic to our nature. So: why is it that Ellie and I, who were already lovingly committed to each other, had to mouth a lot of old formulas in a big stone building and have a bachelor in a robe mumble Latin and throw water at us before we could make love?
Well—why did Jesus, Omnipotence Itself, have to spit in the dirt and rub mud on the blind man's eyes in order to cure him? He healed the centurion's servant without even entering under his roof. But maybe for something so fundamental as a missing sense, He felt the need to give a special benediction, involving body and spirit both. The whole point of the Sacraments, of course, is to bless the soul in a visible way; but in marriage especially, there really is a missing sense that's being mended. From the moment I gave my vow, I became a recovering cyclops, very slowly beginning to see our world through our eyes, the eyes of our marriage, rather than just my own. My perspective (again, very slowly) began to turn stereoscopic, and another mind and soul became a part of my every consideration. And Matrimony, alone among the Sacraments, is not administered through the powers of a priest, but given to the couple by one another. That makes it hard to see how it could be right for us to give ourselves in love to anyone else.
And now I want to see if I can address one of the most delicate of all subjects without appearing to occupy any manner of pulpit (especially since I can assure you that I personally hold no moral high ground whatsoever). As Catholics, we shall certainly raise our kid Catholic, and that will mean teaching her that she oughtn't have sex with anyone except her lawful spouse. I do think that, maybe more than any other single thing, this is the teaching that makes people angry with the Church, and I hope to be able to explain it adequately to my offspring. Remember that the Church only has the authority to teach the Truth, not to make it or to change it; she doesn't impose the laws upon us, but only tries to help us follow the laws that are intrinsic to our nature. So: why is it that Ellie and I, who were already lovingly committed to each other, had to mouth a lot of old formulas in a big stone building and have a bachelor in a robe mumble Latin and throw water at us before we could make love?
Well—why did Jesus, Omnipotence Itself, have to spit in the dirt and rub mud on the blind man's eyes in order to cure him? He healed the centurion's servant without even entering under his roof. But maybe for something so fundamental as a missing sense, He felt the need to give a special benediction, involving body and spirit both. The whole point of the Sacraments, of course, is to bless the soul in a visible way; but in marriage especially, there really is a missing sense that's being mended. From the moment I gave my vow, I became a recovering cyclops, very slowly beginning to see our world through our eyes, the eyes of our marriage, rather than just my own. My perspective (again, very slowly) began to turn stereoscopic, and another mind and soul became a part of my every consideration. And Matrimony, alone among the Sacraments, is not administered through the powers of a priest, but given to the couple by one another. That makes it hard to see how it could be right for us to give ourselves in love to anyone else.
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