approach to moral issues, and he wasn’t about to get caught up in fruitless arguments.
Instead, he refers back to the beginning—to the words of Genesis, which the Pharisees knew by heart.
The Pharisees were looking to test Christ. By going back to God’s original blueprint for marriage, he
evades their trap and leaves them speechless.

If we want to learn about God’s plan for marriage, we have to begin at the beginning. The full text

of Genesis 1:27, which Jesus summarizes, says, “So God created man in his own image, in the image
of God he created him; male and female he created them.” Jesus draws a connection between this
verse and Genesis 2:24—“For this reason a man will leave his father and mother and be united to his
wife, and the two will become one flesh.”

By linking these two verses, and adding, “So they are no longer two, but one. Therefore what God

has joined together, let man not separate,” Christ casts new light on the “one flesh” union of marriage.

A man and a woman don’t become one flesh on their own, Christ says—God unites them.

Marriage is not a mere social institution. It is a holy union instituted by God.

Jesus’ words, “what God has joined together, let man not separate,” are clear. In light of them, we

can see that the book of Genesis contains the principle that marriage is a divine union that cannot be
dissolved by man.

At this point, it may seem like we’ve reached a conclusion. But it would be foolish to think we

can ever exhaust the rich meaning of Scripture—even of so simple a phrase as “from the beginning.”
By twice referring his questioners back to the beginning, Jesus asked them to ponder deeply the way
God created human beings, precisely as male and female.

Let’s put ourselves in the place of Jesus’ questioners. But rather than seeking to test Christ, let us

meditate on these things, leaning in and looking for wisdom.

In God ’ s Image

The first verse Jesus quoted, Genesis 1:27, comes from the first story of man’s creation. This version,
told in the first chapter of Genesis, places man within a seven-day cycle of creation.

The other verse Jesus referred to, Genesis 2:24, comes from the second story of man’s creation.

These two stories are separate but complementary. Starting in Genesis 2, the second account tells the
story of Adam and Eve. In detail, it describes man’s creation, his original innocence, his happiness,
and also his first fall. It extends through the first verse of Genesis 4, where we read about the birth of
Adam and Eve’s first child. The story of man’s creation is then complete.

The first creation story covers the creation of the entire universe, from galaxies and stars down to

plants and animals. Leading up to man’s creation, there’s a steady progression of activity—but then
God comes to a pause.

He looks over all the living creatures he’s made, and declares them good. Then, God decrees,

“Let us make man in our image, in our likeness, and let them rule over . . . all the earth”

So God created man in his own image, in the image of God he created him; male and female he created them.

(Gen. 1:26–27)

This first creation story is brimming with theological implications. This is especially true of the

way it defines man’s relationship to God.

Man is part of the natural world, but, at the same time, he is set apart from it. He isn’t like the

other animals—he alone is made in God’s likeness. That’s why he’s given stewardship over the earth.

This also explains why man cannot be defined in purely naturalistic or materialistic terms. Yes,

man is a physical being. But already, on the first page of the Bible, we learn that man can’t be
explained as a merely physical being—a collection of cells, tissues, and organs. Human beings
transcend the categories of chemistry and biology.

Ultimately, man can only be understood in relation to God. This great mystery of creation—that

we are created in God’s image—is the key reference point for understanding all aspects of humanity,
including our sexuality. This is illustrated by the very next verse: “God blessed them and said to them,
‘Be fruitful and increase in number; fill the earth and subdue it’

” (Gen. 1:28). Thus, to the mystery of

man’s creation is added the blessing of procreation.

The first chapter of Genesis is the basis for a Christian understanding of man—it tells the truth

about who we are as human beings. It is of the utmost importance to all theology, especially the
theology of the body.

Original Innocence

The second story of man’s creation comes from a different perspective than the first. While the first
creation account is objective, the second is subjective—instead of defining man from the outside, it
describes life as human beings experience it, from the inside. But the two accounts relate to each
other, because all of our subjective experiences correspond to the objective reality that we are created
in God’s image.

The second creation story is distinguished by its separate account of the creation of the first

woman, Eve.

So the Lord caused the man to fall into a deep sleep; and while he was sleeping, he took one of the man’s ribs and

closed up the place with flesh. Then the Lord God made a woman from the rib he had taken out of the man, and

brought her to the man.

The man said,

“This is now bone of my bones

and flesh of my flesh;

she shall be called ‘woman,’

for she was taken out of man.”

For this reason a man will leave his father and mother and be united to his wife, and they will become one flesh.

The man and his wife were both naked, and they felt no shame. (Gen. 2:21–25)

Immediately following this passage, Genesis 3 begins with its account of the Fall of man, linked

with that mysterious tree called the “tree of the knowledge of good and evil” (Gen. 2:17). From then
on, Adam and Eve find themselves in an entirely new situation—their world is turned upside down.

In the state of original innocence, Adam and Eve had no knowledge of good and evil. Then, at the

prompting of the evil one (in the form of the serpent), they disobeyed God’s instruction and ate the
fruit of the tree of knowledge. In the second situation, our first parents experienced sin and its
consequences.

These two opposite situations correspond to two different aspects of human nature: our created

nature and our fallen nature. When Christ referred his questioners back to the beginning, he was
directing them to look at man’s created nature.

To learn God’s intent for marriage, we must look back to that state of original innocence. “Moses

permitted you to divorce your wives because your hearts were hard,” Jesus says. “But it was not this
way from the beginning.”

Even though man has lost his innocence and our hearts have grown hard, God’s design for

marriage hasn’t changed.

The Promise of Redemption

When God told Adam not to eat the fruit of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil, he made a
covenant with man. But man broke this covenant in his heart. The tree of the knowledge of good and
evil stands on the dividing line between two very different situations in Genesis: original innocence
and human sinfulness.

But Christ’s words to the Pharisees, leading them back to the beginning, show that even though we

are now tainted by sin, it is important to remember the state of original innocence. We need to
compare our present sinfulness with the way God meant things to be.

When sin entered the world, God responded with a plan for redemption. The first whisper of his

promise is found in the “proto-gospel” of Genesis 3:15, where God says,

“And I will put enmity

between you [the serpent] and the woman,

and between your offspring and hers;

he will crush your head,

and you will strike his heel.”

Starting with Irenaeus, Christian theologians have viewed this text as a foreshadowing of the

Gospel—Jesus’ victory over Satan. From Genesis 3:15 onward, man lives in the hope of redemption.

Christ’s questioners in Matthew 19 were in need of redemption. So are we. We are all participants

in the history of human sinfulness, both by the original sin we have inherited and by
the personal sins we commit. But we are also called to participate in the history of salvation—the
redemption won by Christ’s life, death, and resurrection. We may be shut off from the state of original
innocence, but we are open to the mystery of redemption.

In his Letter to the Romans, Paul expresses our situation this way: “We ourselves, who have the

first fruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly as we wait eagerly for our adoption as sons, the redemption of
our bodies” (Rom. 8:23).

We can’t lose sight of this hope as we follow the words of Christ, which direct our attention back

to the beginning.

Original Solitude

Once again, it seems like we have reached a conclusion. It’s tempting to say that now we understand
what Christ meant when he referred to the beginning. But let’s take another look at the second chapter
of Genesis, pondering man’s original solitude.

In the second creation story, God says, “It is not good for the man to be alone. I will make a

helper suitable for him” (Gen. 2:18). It is significant that this account describes the creation of the first
man and the first woman separately.

It is also significant that the first man, “formed from the dust of the ground” (Gen. 2:7), is called a

“male” only after the creation of the first woman. “Woman,” we read, means “taken out of man” (Gen.
2:23) Masculinity and femininity can only be defined in relation to each other.

So when God, before he creates Eve, says “it is not good for the man to be alone,” his statement

applies to all mankind. God is speaking of the solitude of “man” (male and female), not just the
solitude of the male.

Viewed in this light, “original solitude” has two meanings. The first has to do with human nature:

among the living creatures of the earth, human beings are unique and alone. The second has to do with
the male/female relationship: without a suitable companion, Adam is alone.

The problem of solitude arises only in the second creation story. The first account doesn’t mention

a time when man was alone. There, we read only that God created man in his own image, “male and
female he created them” (Gen. 1:27). In the second account, the problem of man’s solitude is raised
before his division into male and female.

The second story tells us that, first and foremost, man was responsible for working the ground

(Gen. 2:5). This corresponds to man’s vocation to exercise stewardship over the earth (Gen. 1:28).
The second story goes on to tell how man was placed in the Garden of Eden, where he lived in
happiness amidst “trees that were pleasing to the eye and good for food” (Gen. 2:9). Then, God makes
a covenant with man: “You are free to eat from any tree in the garden; but you must not eat from the
tree of the knowledge of good and evil, for when you eat of it you will surely die” (Gen. 2:16–17).

This covenant emphasizes man’s subjectivity. Man isn’t an impersonal object, but a subject

capable of rational thought and communion with God. Man has free will—he can freely choose to
keep the covenant, or break it.

Man’s dignity as a subject is given more emphasis when God gives him the responsibility of

naming the animals: “Now the Lord God had formed out of the ground all the beasts of the field and
all the birds of the air. He brought them to the man to see what he would name them, and whatever the
man called each living creature, that was its name” (Gen. 2:19).

When Adam names the animals, he discovers the first meaning of his solitude. He realizes that he

is in a class by himself, set apart from all the other animals. He is alone. “So the man gave names to
all the livestock, the birds of the air and all the beasts of the field. But for Adam no suitable helper
was found” (Gen. 2:20).

This passage is leading up to the creation of woman, but it possesses its own meaning, even apart

from Eve’s creation. Right from the moment of his creation, man is in search of himself. As we would
put it today, he is in search of his own identity. By naming every other living creature, Adam discovers
what he is not—but he still wonders what he is.

Here is the first clue to man’s identity: he cannot identify completely with the physical world. The

philosopher Aristotle defined man as a “rational animal.” He is an animal, yes, but he is distinguished
from the other animals by his rationality. Only man possesses language and a moral sense—and these
things cannot be explained in terms of the physical world alone.

By exploring the world around him, Adam grew in self-knowledge. By naming the animals, he

learned that he was peculiar among all living creatures. And because he was essentially different from
the rest of visible world, he was alone.

For the first time, Adam became aware that he was a person.

Person and Body

In just a few verses, the Book of Genesis paints a profound picture of man. He’s set above all the
other animals; he possesses the power of language; he’s a subject in the eyes of God, not an object;
and he has free will—the ability to choose his own course of action.

Genesis 1 says that man was created in the image of God. In Genesis 2, he becomes the subject of

a covenant with God. A person is meant to be a partner of God. He must discern and choose between
right and wrong, life and death. Among all living creatures of the visible world, man alone has been
chosen for communion with God. Every human person has a unique, exclusive, unrepeatable
relationship with God himself.

Formed from the dust of the ground, man is a physical being—a body among bodies. He

participates in the visible world, tilling the ground and transforming his environment into a human
habitat, through his body. At the same time, the body is the sign of man’s solitude. Man becomes
aware that he’s a person through the body.

Looking at all the animals, Adam might have concluded that he was one of them. But he didn’t.

Significantly, he concluded that he was alone.

Later, when Eve is created, Adam understands—as soon as he lays eyes on her—that men and

women are fundamentally alike, yet different in complementary ways. Before she even speaks a word,
Eve’s body reveals all this and more.

The body reveals the person. This phrase tells us all there is to know about the body. Science can

examine our flesh in minute detail, down to our cells and even our DNA. But no amount of scientific
exploration can replace the truth that our bodies reveal us, giving form to our innermost being and
unique personality. Our bodies are sacramental—they make the invisible visible.

Death or Immortality

Through the ages, many philosophers have spoken of man as though he were divided into two distinct
parts: soul and body. This isn’t the biblical view, though. In Genesis, the fundamental division is not
between body and soul, but between dust and breath (life)—between unformed matter and living
beings.

Here’s how Genesis 2:7 expresses it: “The Lord God formed the man from the dust of the ground

and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life, and the man became a living being [or ‘living soul’].”
To create Adam, God did not insert a soul into a body. Instead, Adam entered the world as a unified
being, a “living soul” brought to life by the breath of God.

Adam was aware of his unique position from the beginning, since, among animals, he alone was

capable of tilling the earth. The human body allows man to carry out distinctly human activities, like
gardening. And even though the body is physical, it is almost transparent—it reveals man’s identity,
giving visible form to his inner life.

Here, with this understanding of his own body, man becomes a partner with God. Making a

covenant with Adam, God says, “You are free to eat from any tree in the garden, but you must not eat
from the tree of the knowledge of good and evil, for when you eat of it you will surely die” (Gen.
2:16–17).

Up to this point, Adam had only known life; how could he understand the concept of death? The

word “die,” a completely new one, appears before man has any experience of what it means. But the
word is presented as the total opposite of all that Adam has been given. Adam realizes that his life is
entirely dependent on God. God breathed life into man, but that breath still belongs to God. When it is
taken away, man returns to dust. In this way, the free choice between life and death was set before
Adam.

At that moment, the choice between death and immortality became part of what it means to be

human. As a living soul called to communion with God, man faced this choice from the beginning.

Original Unity

The words of Genesis 2:18, “It is not good for the man to be alone,” are a prelude to the creation of
woman. In the narrative of Eve’s creation, the theme of original solitude is joined by the theme of
original unity.

This is the key to Genesis 2:24, which Jesus quoted in his exchange with the Pharisees: “For this

reason a man will leave his father and mother and be united to his wife, and they will become one
flesh.” Since Christ used this verse in reference to the beginning, we should look closely at the
meaning of original unity, which is rooted in the creation of man as male and female.

In the first creation story, there is no mention of man’s solitude. Man is “male and female” right

from the beginning. But Genesis 2 invites us to think of man before the creation of woman. Only later
in the chapter are we invited to think of man in terms of the two sexes.

Original solitude, as we saw, is irrespective of sex. But original unity arises from the union of

masculinity and femininity. Male and female are two different incarnations of man. They are two
complementary ways of “being a body” created in God’s image.

The language of Genesis is mythical, in the sense that it truthfully describes things that are beyond

human knowledge. Understood in this way, a “myth” is not a lie, but an ancient and deeper way of
knowing. Even with all the discoveries of modern science, we have not surpassed the truths about man
found in Genesis. What a marvelous book!

Genesis 2 takes the form of a dialogue between man and his Creator. God says, “It is not good for

the man to be alone. I will make a helper suitable for him” (Gen. 2:18). Then, God brings all the
animals before the man—but, “For Adam no suitable helper was found” (Gen. 2:20). So, “The Lord
God caused the man to fall into a deep sleep; and while he was sleeping, he took one of the man’s ribs
and closed up the place with flesh. Then the Lord God made a woman from the rib he had taken out of
the man, and he brought her to the man” (Gen. 2:21–22).

In preparation for his creative act, God immerses man in sleep—this should give us food for

thought. The Hebrew word that the Bible uses for Adam’s sleep—tardemah—signifies a deep sleep
that comes before some extraordinary event. Here, man falls into sleep in order to find a being like
himself.

He wakes up “male” and “female.” In Genesis 2:23, “She shall be called ‘woman’ for she was

taken out of man,” we find the distinction between male and female for the first time. Femininity is
found in relation to masculinity, and masculinity is confirmed by femininity. They depend on each
other.

Eve is made from the “rib” that God took from Adam’s side. This signifies that the male and

female bodies share the same physical structure—they are of the same species. It is interesting to note
that the ancient Sumerians used the same written sign for “rib” as they used for “life.” Adam and Eve
share a common source of life—God’s breath.

The male and female bodies, though different, share the same humanity. When God brings the

woman to Adam, he cries out, “This is now bone of my bones and flesh of my flesh” (Gen. 2:23). He
immediately recognizes her body as a human body, even though she is of a different sex.

In the Bible, the word “bones” expresses a very important aspect of the person. Since the Jews

made no distinction between body and soul, the “bones” referred to the very core of one’s being.

Adam immediately accepts Eve as a suitable companion. For the first time, man shows joy. He

was happy before, but he had no cause for exaltation. Now, in his marriage song, Adam sings, “She is
being of my being! A person like me!”

The Communion of Persons

In the Book of Genesis, the creation of man is only complete when he is created as male and female—
two beings sharing one human nature, one life, but distinguished by their masculinity and femininity.
When men and women were created, God declared them to be “very good” (Gen. 1:31). Adam and
Eve were also “very good” in each other’s eyes. The woman is for the man, and the man is for the
woman.

In one way, Adam was no longer alone after the creation of Eve. But in another way, his solitude

as a human being was confirmed in Eve. Adam and Eve were both alone—unique among the animals,
unique in their personal relationship to the Creator. Because Adam and Eve shared in this solitude—
as all human beings do—they were capable of a deep relationship with each other.

Adam had a personal relationship with God, but he couldn’t have a personal relationship with an

animal. When God brought Eve to him, he knew right away that here was another body—another
person—he could commune with. Together, Adam and Eve became a “communion of persons.”

Because we transcend the physical world—being created in the image of God—we are all capable

of forming this kind of deep communion with our fellow human beings. It is part of what makes us
distinctively human. Living in community, we form bonds and help each other. We live for each other’s
sake—not just our own.

What enables people to live in communion? Our common human nature, our sharing of the divine

image, our free will, and our bodies.

The first creation account tells us that God created man in his own image, as male and female. In

the second account, the creation of man isn’t complete until he exists as male and female—as a
communion of persons. From this, we can see that man shares the “image and likeness” not only as an
individual human being, but also as a communion of persons.

Adam mirrored the image of God not so much in his solitude, before Eve was created, as after,

when he and Eve formed a communion of persons. From the beginning, Adam and Eve reflected God’s
image through their love for each other. In this way, they mirrored the glory of the divine communion
of persons—the Holy Trinity. And on this union of man and woman, God bestowed the blessing of
fertility.

As Jesus’ answer to the Pharisee’s question about divorce shows, we cannot understand sexual

ethics apart from the truth that the one-flesh union is a sign of God’s love. To the extent that they live
together in love, man and woman become a picture of the inner life of God. This might be the most
amazing thing that we can say about marriage. From the beginning, the male and female bodies were
created to form a deep unity.

One Flesh

If we want to know anything about man, first we have to notice that he exists as a dual being, male and
female. We have to start with the idea of “communion.” Adam and Eve were created to live in unity
and harmony. And even in our fallen world, this remains God’s design for marriage.

“For this reason,” says Genesis 2:24, “a man will leave his father and mother and be united to his

wife, and they will become one flesh.” When is this union realized? Most clearly, it is expressed when
a husband and wife unite sexually, in the marriage act—giving their whole selves to each other and
opening themselves to the creation of new life. This intimate union, where a man and a woman cling to
each other so closely that they become one flesh, is made possible by our creation as male and
female.

Every time a husband and wife come together in this way, they rediscover the mystery of creation.

Looking in each other’s eyes, they recognize their common humanity, reenacting in a special way that
first meeting of man and woman, when Adam declared, “This is now bone of my bones and flesh of
my flesh” (Gen. 2:23).

Sex is a powerful bond established by the Creator. But it is far more than just a biological drive.

In becoming one flesh, husband and wife are no longer two separate individuals—each takes the other
in, expanding the meaning of “self.” They are now a communion of persons. The body, through its
masculinity and femininity, makes this communion possible.

As Genesis 2 tells us, human beings were created for unity. Right from the beginning, Genesis also

indicates, this unity depends on a choice. “For this reason a man will leave his father and mother and
be united to his wife” (Gen. 2:24). To become husband and wife, a man and woman must choose to
cling to each other. This kind of mutual self-giving can only come about by free choice—it can’t be
forced.

In all times and places, every time a husband and wife unite so closely as to become one flesh,

they discover anew the unifying significance of the body. Each of these unions renews the mystery of
creation in all its depth and power. When a husband and wife come together in purity of heart, it is not
so much a loss of virginity as a rediscovery of the original, virginal value of man and woman.

Formed in the image of God, and uniting to form a communion of persons, Adam and Eve became

the model of marriage for all future couples. That is why Christ appealed to this story in his response
to the Pharisees—it was still relevant in Jesus’ time, and it is just as relevant today.

Original Nakedness

Genesis 2:25 says, “The man and his wife were both naked, and they felt no shame.” At first glance,
this detail seems superfluous—far less important, say, than the previous verse about becoming “one
flesh.” But actually, it introduces us to one of the main elements in the story: the theme of original
nakedness. This is, in fact, the key to understanding the biblical vision of man’s created nature.

This verse, which says that the first man and woman were “both naked” but “felt no shame,” is a

description of human consciousness. It takes us inside the minds of Adam and Eve, revealing how
they experienced their bodies—both their own and each other’s. It describes Adam’s experience of
femininity as revealed by Eve’s naked body, and, at the same time, Eve’s experience of masculinity
through Adam’s body. The author describes this experience in simple, precise words: “they felt no
shame.”

Several verses later, in the account of man’s Fall, we read:

When the woman saw that the fruit of the tree was good for food and pleasing to the eye, and also desirable for

gaining wisdom, she took some and ate it. She also gave some to her husband, who was with her, and he ate it. Then the

eyes of both of them were opened, and they realized they were naked; so they sewed fig leaves together and made

coverings for themselves. (Gen. 3:1–7)

After breaking their covenant with God, Adam and Eve experience their bodies differently—for

the first time, they become conscious of their nakedness and are ashamed. Between Genesis 2:25 and
3:7, there is a fundamental shift.

Before, Adam and Eve were “both naked, and they felt no shame.” Now, “they realized they were

naked.” Does this mean that, before the fall, Adam and Eve didn’t really see each other’s naked
bodies? Or has a change taken place on a much deeper level?

It is not simply that Adam and Eve have gone from a state of ignorance to “knowing.” Instead,

there has been a radical change in the meaning of the original nakedness of man and woman in front of
each other. This change emerges from their conscience; it’s a fruit of the tree of the knowledge of good
and evil.

This change directly involves the way we experience the meaning of bodies. After their eyes are

“opened,” Adam and Eve first cover their bodies from each other’s sight; then they try to hide from
God.

But the Lord God called to the man, “Where are you?”

He answered, “I heard you in the garden, and I was afraid because I was naked, so I hid.” (Gen. 3:8–10)

Shame is a fundamental human experience. Like Adam, we all know what it means to feel shame.

In Genesis, this experience marks the border between original innocence and man’s sinfulness. To
understand what it means to be without shame, and what significance this has for us today, we must
look back to the time of original innocence.

Unashamed

Shame is a very complex experience. With shame, a person experiences fear for one’s self in the
presence of another self (for example, a woman before a man). Shame reveals an instinctive need to be
accepted and affirmed by the other. We also experience this need within ourselves—the longing for
self-acceptance. Shame is a barrier between persons, but at the same time it seeks to draw them
together.

Shame—in particular, sexual modesty—plays an important role in the formation of society by

affecting the relationship between the sexes. It expresses the rules for the communion of persons,
while also reminding us of our original solitude as individuals before God. But what does the absence
of shame mean in the state of original innocence?

We often hear childhood described as a “time of innocence.” But it would be misleading to

compare Adam and Eve’s situation with that of children. The words of Genesis 2:25, “they felt no
shame,” don’t express a lack of development, but a fullness. They indicate that Adam and Eve had a
full understanding of the meaning of the body, bound up with their nakedness. When this fullness is
lost, shame appears. What, then, is this full understanding of the body and original nakedness?

To answer this question, we have to remember man’s original solitude—his aloneness among the

other living creatures. This solitude, together with the creation of man as male and female, prepared
the way for Adam and Eve’s joyful discovery of their shared humanity. At the same time, this
discovery was made possible by the body. The naked body was the visible source of this realization,
which established their unity.

The words of Genesis 2:25, “The man and his wife were both naked, and they felt no shame,”

bring us inside the experience of Adam and Eve. This interior perspective is necessary to discover the
fullness of interpersonal communication that allowed Adam and Eve to be naked but unashamed.

In our everyday language, the word “communication” usually refers to the news and entertainment

media. But in its original and deepest meaning, communication takes place between persons, face to
face. We communicate on the basis of our shared humanity.

In light of communication, the body takes on an entirely new meaning, beyond the exterior. It

concretely expresses our interior selves. The body enables man and woman, right from the beginning,
to communicate with each other as God created them to, in the fullness of a communion of persons.

Original nakedness can only be understood in the context of this communion. The words “they felt

no shame” indicate an original depth of understanding between persons. Adam and Eve perfectly
accepted each other, affirming each other’s masculinity and femininity.

This fullness of understanding, expressed by physical nakedness, parallels our nakedness before

God. “Nothing in all creation is hidden from God’s sight. Everything is uncovered and laid bare before
the eyes of him to whom we must give account” (Heb. 4:13).

Before the Fall, Adam and Eve were truly naked—revealed in all their simplicity and beauty

before God and each other.

Creation is a Gift

Adam and Eve were naked before they realized they were naked. In the state of original innocence,
they looked upon each other in wonder and gratitude. In this way, they shared the vision of their
Creator, who saw all that he had made and declared it “very good” (Gen. 1:31).

“Nakedness” signifies the original goodness of creation in God’s eyes. It characterizes the fullness

of God’s vision, through which we see the high value of man and woman and the purity of sex and the
body. At the time of creation, there was no opposition between the physical and the spiritual. There
was also no opposition between male and female—the two existed in unity. Adam and Eve looked at
each other not just with the exterior gaze of their eyes, but with the eyes of their hearts.

Shame limits our ability to see each other fully. But Genesis 2:25 tells us that Adam and Eve were

unashamed. They were not afraid to open up to each other, to become vulnerable. They saw and knew
each other intimately, in the peace of their interior gaze. Because they were complementary—Adam’s
masculinity and Eve’s femininity completed each other—they had a special understanding of the
meaning of their bodies. They became gifts for each other.

At the beginning, Adam and Eve shared a particular understanding of their bodies as gifts. This is

the gift-giving or “nuptial” meaning of the body.

As Christ reminds us, God is the Creator, man is the creature. Genesis uses this word, “create,”

time and time again to describe God’s activity. Why does God create? Why did he call all things from
nothingness into being?

Because he is love (1 John 4:8).
We do not find this word—“love”—in the creation story. But the narrative tells us repeatedly,

“God saw what he had made, and it was very good.” This gives us a glimpse of God’s motive in
creating, because only love gives birth to goodness and delights in what is good (1 Cor. 13). Creation
is a gift. It is a radical form of giving, because God calls forth this gift out of nothingness.

Every creature bears the mark of God’s original and fundamental gift. With any gift, there is a

relationship established between the giver and the receiver. We see this relationship most clearly in the
creation of man—God gave us his image, and this puts us in a unique position with him. Among all
creatures, only man is really capable of giving and receiving a gift. Only man can understand that
creation is a gift, and offer himself to God in return.

Creation is God’s gift, bestowed on man. But man is not only the recipient of a gift—he is also a

gift himself, with the freedom to give himself to another.

The Body is a Gift

If creation is a gift for man, we have to ask: did Adam live as though the world was a gift? Was he
grateful to the Creator?

When God first created Adam, he lived in a state of original happiness. But the Bible does not tell

us whether he joyfully embraced the world as an incredible gift. Instead, it focuses on the fact that
Adam was alone.

Amidst all the wonders of creation, something was lacking. In Genesis 2:18, for the first time, God

notices something that is not good: “It is not good for the man to be alone. I will make a helper
suitable for him.” Adam, too, is keenly aware of this lack. While naming all the animals, he found no
suitable helper. No other creature was fit for him; none could unite with him in a relationship of
mutual giving.

When God said, “It is not good for the man to be alone,” he affirmed that man was created to live

in communion. A man reaches his full potential only by living with someone—or, even more
completely, by living for someone.

Human existence is characterized by these two words of Genesis: “alone” and “helper.” In a

communion of persons, human beings live for each other, as gifts to each other. This is the fulfillment
of our original aloneness. When God brings Eve before him, Adam expresses gratitude: “This is now
bone of my bones, flesh of my flesh.” Adam and Eve were gifts for each other. This mutual gift was
expressed by their complementary bodies, male and female.

The body reveals the “living soul” that man became when God breathed life into him. It’s a

witness to the fact that all of creation is a gift. Because of this, the body is a witness to the Love that
brings forth and sustains all life. Our masculinity and femininity—our sex—is the sign of a gift.

By uniting so closely as to become “one flesh,” husband and wife open themselves to the blessing

of procreation (first spoken of in Genesis 1:28). In Genesis, there is a difference between the sex
instinct of animals and the procreative power of human beings. Because man alone is created in the
image of God, human sexuality is raised to a higher level—the level of persons.

From the beginning, man’s existence as male and female is connected with gift-giving—the nuptial

meaning of the body. Human sexuality is fundamentally about mutual self-giving, mirroring the
Creator’s love.

Free to Love

Freedom lies at the heart of the gift-giving meaning of the body. Before the fall, Adam and Eve were
free from the constraints of sin. Naked and unashamed, they weren’t oppressed by the urge to misuse
each other.

The human body, with its sexuality—male and female—is not only a source of fruitfulness and

procreation. It also has the power to express love, allowing the person to become a gift. This self-
giving love is unique to human beings—other living creatures reproduce, but they don’t love each
other in the image of God’s love.

Beyond marriage, Christ revealed another vocation for men and women—that of remaining

unmarried for the sake of the kingdom of heaven (Mat. 19:12). This only confirms the nuptial meaning
of the body. In freedom, we have the power to offer ourselves as a gift—to another person, or even to
the kingdom of heaven.

So many people wonder: Who am I? Why am I here on this earth? The answer is found in this self-

giving love. We were created by Love, and we’re called to love in return. A man can only find his true
self by giving himself away. When we live according to the nuptial meaning of our bodies, we fulfil
the very meaning of our existence.

In order to make a gift of himself, a man must be free. Adam and Eve were completely free

because they were totally innocent. Genesis 2:25 eloquently expresses this freedom: “The man and his
wife were both naked, and they felt no shame.” For us to achieve freedom, we must learn self-control.
The gift-giving, nuptial meaning of the body can only be realized when we’re free from sinful
passions.

Each human person is willed by God for his own sake. Human life is good in and of itself—it is

not a means to an end. Life is sacred, and we cannot put a price on it. Each person is unique and
unrepeatable; someone chosen by eternal Love. There has never been, and there will never be, another
you.

By giving themselves away, Adam and Eve were able to discover this truth about each other. In

their first meeting, Adam found Eve, and Eve found Adam. He accepted her as a unique person, willed
by the Creator for her own sake, reflecting the image of God in her femininity. And she accepted him
in the same way—as a unique person reflecting the image of God in his masculinity.

The person is affirmed in the accepting of the gift, made possible by the nuptial meaning of the

body. This mutual self-giving, first manifested in God’s self-giving love, is the basis for the
communion of persons. This joyful communion explains why Adam and Eve existed in a state of
original happiness. Though this was a short-lived period in human pre-history, comprising only a few
verses of Genesis, it is full of implications for the theology of the body. Most particularly, it reveals
the nuptial meaning of the body as a gift given in the freedom of love.

The Radiance of Love

The mystery of creation, revealed in the first chapters of Genesis, is that it is a gift from God’s
boundless love. Only love creates what is good. The sign of love, then, can be found in all created
things—especially man. The creation of man as male and female, the nuptial meaning of the body, the
original happiness of Adam and Eve—all these things are aglow with the radiance of love.

The opening verses of the Bible speak not only of creation, but of grace. Grace is the

communication of God’s holiness, the radiance of his Spirit. The first man shone with grace. In the
Bible, “first” figuratively means “of God.” Adam was not only chronologically the first man, he was
called “the son of God” (Luke 3:38).

Happiness is the fruit of love. Man was happy in the beginning because he was created by Love

and gave love in return. But even after the Fall, love didn’t vanish from the world—because it can
never be eradicated. Generations after sin entered the world, Christ came to redeem it—bearing
witness to the irreversible love of God first expressed in creation.

As we’ve seen, man and woman felt no shame in the beginning. Freedom from shame is the result

of love. This freedom points us to the mystery of original innocence. Because they were in complete
communion with God and each other, Adam and Eve experienced creation at its fullest and deepest
dimension. Filled with grace, they walked in God’s holiness. This was the source of their innocence.
Grace is what enables a man and woman to make a sincere gift to one another.

For Adam and Eve, the body was a witness to innocence. The statement that they were “both

naked, but felt no shame,” is unique in the Bible. It is never repeated. Elsewhere, nakedness is
associated with shame and even disgrace. In the ancient Middle East, clothing was linked to status.
Dignified men were well dressed; only slaves and prisoners were naked. In women, nakedness was
associated with disrepute.

In this context, we can see just how striking Genesis 2:25 is. Innocence was a gift of grace to

Adam and Eve. Because their hearts were pure by the radiation of God’s love, they were able to see
the true meaning of their nakedness and give themselves completely to each other.

Original innocence speaks of the Creator’s gift. It speaks of grace, which enabled man to

experience the world as a gift. And it speaks of the self-giving love made possible by the male and
female bodies. Above all, original innocence is a matter of the heart and the will. Because of their
purity of heart, Adam and Eve were completely faithful to the gift of each other—to the core of their
being—with no cause for shame.

A Gift for Each Other

In Genesis, we see the body as a gift, revealed in all its radiant purity—its “nakedness.” In the state of
original innocence, nakedness wasn’t shameful. Nakedness becomes shameful when the woman is an
object for the man, or the man an object for the woman. Interior innocence kept Adam and Eve from
reducing each other to the level of a mere object. They were united by their shared awareness of the
body as a gift.

When does the body cease to be a gift? When we turn it into an object, using it for self-

gratification. This denial of the gift marks the end of innocence and the beginning of shame.

In their nakedness and innocence, Adam and Eve gave of themselves and accepted each other.

This exchange of the gift involved the whole of their being—their humanity, their masculinity and
femininity, their bodies and souls.

At this level, the giving and the receiving are so intertwined that there is almost no distinguishing

between them. The two become one—it is difficult to know where giving stops and receiving begins.

In the mystery of creation, the woman is brought to man as a gift. Thanks to original innocence,

she is accepted by him as a person good in and of herself, not as an object. Because of the way Adam
accepts and welcomes her, Eve discovers herself and the meaning of her femininity. She finds herself
because she’s been accepted in the way the Creator meant her to be accepted.

From the beginning, the woman was a gift for the man. She was entrusted to his eyes, his

sensitivity, his heart. To complete the exchange of the gift, he must give himself to her in return.

This mutual self-giving creates the communion of persons, enriching both the man and the woman.

Love begets love.

Innocence and History

Adam and Eve realized they were naked at exactly the point when they ceased to be completely
selfless gifts for each other. And, for the first time, they were ashamed.

The Fall radically changed the way man experiences the body. This change involved the interior

forces of man—the heart, mind, and will. It also affected man’s sensitivity to the gifts of the Holy
Spirit. Before the Fall, man was in complete communion with God; but sin separates us from him. We
can see what a difference the Fall made by comparing our own experience with that of Adam and Eve
as described in Genesis 2.

When Jesus asked, “Haven’t you read that at the beginning the Creator ‘made them male and

female’?” he directed us back to the mystery of creation. We must attempt to follow that direction,
fully aware of the gift of original innocence and how original sin separated us from that innocence. We
are striving to understand the connection—made by Christ—between original innocence and our
historical state after the Fall.

We’ve tried to discern the original meaning of the body. We’ve seen how the body becomes a gift

when it is given and accepted in freedom and innocence. This truth isn’t relevant
only to Adam and Eve before the Fall. It is central to God’s design for the person and the body, both
then and now. Sin has clouded our perception of the design, but it has not changed God’s intent.

In the beginning, man and woman were, in a special way, given to each other by the Creator. This

gift was not limited to the first couple, Adam and Eve, but extends to the whole human family.
Throughout all of history, the fundamental fact of human existence is that God “made them male and
female.”

After the Fall, man lost his original grace, making it harder to see the nuptial meaning of the body.

But the meaning of the gift remains inscribed in the depths of the human heart. Through the veil of
shame, man must continually rediscover himself as the guardian of the gift. He must defend the body
from being reduced to a mere object.

By looking to the beginning, we can see more clearly who we are as persons, and how we should

act. To make of ourselves a gift, and to accept others selflessly—this is the goal to which we should
all aspire. For that reason, the nuptial meaning of the body is indispensable for knowing who we are,
who we were meant to be, and therefore how we should live in the world.

Body and Sacrament

Man was created as the highest visible expression of God’s gift of creation, because he bears the
stamp of the gift within himself. Among living creatures, man alone is able to accept the gift. And he
has the freedom to give himself in return. Along with this, man brings his particular likeness to God.
One aspect of this likeness is his awareness of the nuptial meaning of the body, in the context of
original innocence.

At this point in our reflections, we’re still at the threshold of man’s history. Adam and Eve haven’t

crossed the boundary of original sin—they’re still enraptured by the mystery of creation. The depth of
this mystery—its innocence, grace, love, and justice—is hidden in their hearts. “God saw all that he
had made, and it was very good” (Gen. 1:31).

The body is a primordial sacrament, a visible sign of God’s invisible mystery. This is the mystery

of truth and love, of the divine life, in which the human person really participates.
The body alone is capable of making visible the invisible. It was created to be a sign of God’s love in
the visible world.

Through man, created in God’s image, the sacramentality of the world is revealed. By means of

the physical body, the human person is a visible sign of the love out of which God created all things.
Against this vast backdrop, we can understand more fully the sacrament of marriage as it was
instituted in the beginning: “For this reason a man will leave his father and mother and be united to his
wife, and they will become one flesh” (Gen. 2:24).

Genesis 2:23–25 narrates the first feast of human love, in all its fullness and innocence. Very

soon, the shadow of sin and death will darken this holy celebration. But from the beginning, we also
have hope. The fruit of love—of which the body is a sign—is not death, but life.

Sex and Knowledge

Man and woman were created for marriage. “For this reason a man will leave his father and mother
and be united to his wife, and they will become one flesh” (Gen. 2:24). This introduces a new, creative
aspect of human existence—procreation.

Before becoming husband and wife, Adam and Eve emerged from creation as brother and sister

sharing the same humanity. Later, Genesis 4:1 (ESV) says: “Now Adam knew Eve his wife, and she
conceived and bore Cain, saying, ‘I have begotten a man with the help of the Lord.’ ”

It is interesting that Genesis draws a connection between sex and knowledge: “Adam knew his

wife.” The Hebrew word used here, jaddah, doesn’t mean “head knowledge” alone; it also refers to
concrete experience. Significantly, the experience in which husband and wife unite so closely as to
become one flesh is called “knowledge.” Throughout the Bible, sex is referred to often in this way. In
fact, when the angel Gabriel tells the Virgin Mary that she will give birth to the Savior, she answers,
“How can this be, since I do not know a man?”

This term, “knowledge,” raises human sexuality above the level of animals to the level of persons.

Knowledge refers to the deepest essence of married life. In becoming one flesh, both men and women
acquire knowledge through the body. A husband and wife come to “know” the meaning of their bodies.
In a unique way, the woman is given to the man to be known, and he is given to her. This experience of
the gift mysteriously makes them one, without blurring their individuality.

We all long to be known deeply for who we are. According to Genesis, a man and a woman can

know each other in this deep way when they become one flesh.

Three of the Old Testament prophets use this same word, “knowledge,” to describe the union of

God and his people. In the book of Hosea, God tells his people, “I will betroth you to me in
faithfulness, and you shall know the Lord” (2:20 NKJV). This promise is repeated in Isaiah: “Then
you will know that I am the Lord.” (49:23 NKJV) And again in Ezekiel: “And I will establish my
covenant with you. Then you shall know that I am the Lord” (16:62 NKJV).

In the New Testament, Paul takes this further. He tells us that the union between husband and wife

is a picture of Christ’s love for the Church (Eph. 5:32).

God knows us more than any other person possibly can, and he wants us to know him. Whether

we are male or female, married or unmarried, young or old, this is the relationship to which Christ is
calling each of us.

Motherhood

The concept of “knowledge” summarizes everything we’ve talked about thus far. The ability to name
something—or someone—is connected with knowledge. Adam named the animals, and he knew that
he was different from them. This knowledge of his aloneness became the basis for his union with the
woman. Because she, too, was created in God’s image, Adam was able to know his wife in a way that
he could not know an animal. By uniting with her so closely as to become one flesh, he knew her.
“Adam named his wife Eve,” Genesis 3:20 says, “because she would become the mother of all the
living.”

The mystery of femininity is revealed in motherhood. Men and women are different, not only

physically, but even at the deepest psychological levels. And motherhood brings to light the particular
power of the female body.

Eve was revealed to Adam as a mother—one in whom new human life is conceived and nurtured.

When Eve became a mother, the mystery of Adam’s masculinity was also revealed—the lifegiving,
fatherly meaning of his body.

By revealing the mystery of masculinity and femininity, procreation expands the knowledge shared

between man and woman. In sex, a husband and wife know each other, and find themselves affirmed
through each other. In procreation, a husband and wife come to know themselves through a third
person, sprung from them both. This is a revelation. Looking at their child, a husband and wife
rediscover themselves, their shared humanity—they see their own living image. When Adam first saw
Eve, he declared, “This is now bone of my bones and flesh of my flesh!” And when Eve first saw her
child, she exclaimed, “I have begotten a man!”

Those parts of the female body that are connected with motherhood have always been regarded

with honor. In the Gospel, a woman says to Jesus, “Blessed is the womb that bore you, and the breasts
which nursed you!” (Lk. 11:27 NKJV). These words, spoken in reference to Mary, the second Eve, are
a celebration of motherhood and femininity.

When the first Eve became a mother, she praised God: “I have begotten a man with the help of the

Lord.” Eve’s prayer expresses just how significant the blessing of fertility is. The woman’s body
becomes the place where new human beings are conceived—where the divine image is passed on.

Human beings don’t create new life on their own—ultimately, it’s God who calls all life into

existence. “Before I formed you in the womb I knew you,” God told Jeremiah (Jer. 1:5 NKJV).

God not only creates life, he sustains it:

You are he who took me out of the womb;

You made me trust while on my mother’s breasts.

I was cast upon you from birth.

From my mother’s womb you have been my God.

(Psalm 22:9–10 NKJV)

Eve was fully aware of God’s work in her life. In bringing forth a child, she knew that she and her

husband were working in cooperation with God.

There are many differences between the state of innocence enjoyed by Adam and Eve in the

beginning and the state of sinfulness they ushered in. But there is also continuity. Even though sin has
entered the world, each and every new human being still bears the image of God. This is what gives
procreation such immense dignity.

The Cycle of Life

By bringing children into the world, husbands and wives continue the work God began when he created
the first man. This is illustrated by Genesis 5, which begins with a brief recap of man’s creation,
emphasizing that man was created in God’s image:

When God created man, he made him in the likeness of God. He created them male and female and blessed them. And

when they were created, he called them ‘man.’ When Adam had lived 130 years, he had a son in his own likeness, in his

own image; and he named him Seth. (Gen. 5:1–3)

Since Adam and Eve were the image of God, their children inherited the divine image through

them—and so the image is passed on, from generation to generation.

When a man and a woman know each other deeply—so deeply as to become one flesh—they

become open to the possibility of procreation. The generation of new life is the fulfillment of the
nuptial meaning of their bodies.

Understanding the gift-giving and life-giving meaning of the body, husbands and wives delight in

each other and affirm the goodness of life. They become caught up in God’s vision at the dawn of
creation: “And God saw everything that he had made, and behold, it was very good” (Gen. 1:31).

In their children, they see their own image—and God’s—reflected. Every time new life is

generated, the world shines with the awe and mystery of creation.

Because of sin, the cycle of life involves not only birth, but suffering and death. After Adam and

Eve broke God’s covenant with them, God told Eve: “I will greatly increase your pains in
childbearing; with pain you will give birth to children” (Gen. 3:16). And to Adam he said, “dust you
are and to dust you will return” (Gen. 3:19).

From the moment we come into being, one thing is sure: someday, we’ll die. Life and death are

locked in a constant struggle. But, in the end, life overcomes death. The cycle of life continues.

In spite of hardship, in spite of suffering and disappointment, in spite of our own sinfulness, and

even in spite of death, life is still worth living—and worth giving.

The Total Vision of Man

The Pharisees asked Jesus whether a man should ever divorce his wife. They referred to the law of
Moses, which made room for divorce as a human compromise.

“Haven’t you read,” Christ replied,

“that at the beginning the Creator ‘made them male and female,’ and said, ‘For this reason a man will leave his father

and mother and be united to his wife, and the two will become one flesh’? So they are no longer two, but one.

Therefore what God has joined together, let man not separate.” (Mt. 19:4–6)

Then, answering the question about Moses, Jesus added:

“Moses permitted you to divorce your wives because your hearts were hard. But it was not this way from the

beginning.” (Mt. 19:8)

To find God’s intent for marriage, Christ said, we have to go back to the beginning, to the story of

man’s creation found in Genesis. In these reflections, we’ve tried to discover the meaning of this
“beginning.”

Christians believe that the Bible is God’s revealed word. And so, to learn the truth about man, the

Bible is the first place we turn. There we read that each man and woman is a person created in God’s
image. What a rich inheritance this truth is!

Christ’s answer was directed to the Pharisees, the religious zealots of his day. But his words aren’t

limited to their original historical setting—they echo throughout all of history. People are still asking
tough questions about divorce, and Jesus is still answering them. His words are just as fresh today as
the day they were first uttered.

Today, there are many other controversial questions surrounding marriage, sex, and the family.

They are being asked by singles, couples, and young people; and also by philosophers, scientists, and
politicians.

How would Jesus answer these questions? He wouldn’t be surprised by them. If his answer to the

Pharisees is any indication, he would point us all back to the beginning.

To answer specific questions about marriage, sex, and the family, we first need a “total vision of

man.” This is why we turn to Genesis. In our scientific age, knowledge has become so specialized that
it is easy to lose sight of the whole. The vision of man found in Genesis doesn’t require us to
renounce science or ignore its findings. Instead, it gives us a solid foundation—a way of understanding
what the sciences tell us about man in light of “the image of God.”

Genesis is the starting point for the theology of the body. The word “theology” usually refers to

the study of God. What can theology have to do with the human body? For Christians, the center of
our faith is the Incarnation. When God became flesh—willingly took on a human body—the body
entered the halls of theology through the front door.

The Incarnation, together with the redemption won for us by Christ, also raised marriage to the

level of a sacrament, a means of receiving God’s grace. Christian marriage is far more than a contract
or a social arrangement. It is a vocation, a path to holiness and salvation. And a solid, biblical
understanding of the body, male and female, is crucial to this vocation.

Because of sin, it is difficult to see the body as a gift, not an object. But for married couples,

awareness and acceptance of the gift-giving and life-giving meanings of the body is essential. This is
why we need to concentrate on purity of heart in our next series of reflections.

It is so significant that, in answering a question about marriage, Christ directs us back to the time

of man’s innocence. If, by the beginning, Jesus referred only to our lost innocence, his words would be
of little relevance to his questioners and to us. But he is not just pointing back—he is also pointing
forward to our redemption.

The promise of redemption bridges the gap between our present sinfulness and our original

innocence. A theology of the body is of little use unless we live in the hope of the redemption of the
body. In Christ and though Christ, what once was lost can yet be regained.

II.

PURITY OF HEART

Reflections on Love and Lust

And now, O Lord, I take this my bride,

Not for lust but uprightly. Have mercy upon us,

And grant that we may grow old together.

—

OOK

OBIT

Christ’s Call to the Heart

To fully understand the words of Christ, we need to look beyond the immediate context in which they
were spoken. We need to consider them in a universal context—in light of all of Scripture and human
history.

In our first series of meditations, we pondered the meaning of Jesus’ words about divorce: “Moses

permitted you to divorce your wives because your hearts were hard. But it was not this way from the
beginning” (Mt. 19:8). The immediate context was a dispute with the Pharisees over whether a man
could divorce his wife. But, to understand these words, we needed to delve into the Book of Genesis
and the story of man’s creation. We saw how this ancient book was ripe with meaning for our lives
today.

In these reflections, we will focus on Christ’s words about marriage in the Sermon on the Mount:

“You have heard that it was said, ‘Do not commit adultery.’ But I tell you that anyone who looks on a woman lustfully

has already committed adultery with her in his heart” (Mt. 5: 27–28).

Like the passage in which Jesus points back to the beginning, this teaching is a key for unlocking

the theology of the body.

In his Sermon on the Mount, Christ fundamentally alters the way we should think about the Old

Testament Law—specifically the Ten Commandments. Looking beyond the exterior, he shifts our
attention inward. The Law could only regulate actions; the Gospel can transform hearts. “Do not think
that I have come to abolish the Law or the Prophets,” he says. “I have not come to abolish them, but to
fulfil them.” (Mt. 5:17).

By fulfilling the Law, Jesus reveals its true meaning. God doesn’t want us to just “follow the

rules.” He desires us to have holy thoughts and intentions, too. While affirming the Sixth
Commandment, “Do not commit adultery,” Christ uncovers its deeper meaning: we are not to commit
adultery even in our hearts.

To his disciples at the time—and at all times, including today—this must have seemed like a great

deal to ask. Isn’t it enough to just avoid committing adultery with your body? But Christ says, “Unless
your righteousness surpasses that of the Pharisees and teachers of the Law, you will certainly not enter
the kingdom of heaven” (Mt. 5:20, emphasis added).

The Sermon on the Mount is a turning point in the understanding of human morality. It isn’t enough

to stop at the surface of our actions—we must penetrate inside.

On the surface, adultery can be seen when a man or woman violates the exclusive faithfulness of

marriage. Old Testament rules examined this act from the outside. Although they were fashioned to
prevent and punish adultery, one of their unintended consequences was that they created legal
loopholes. This is the natural response of sinful humans faced with rules. “How much can I get away
with without explicitly breaking the law?”

When we attend only to the letter of the law, we violate its spirit. Christ shifts us away from

legalistic thinking, directing us to the core of the problem: “Anyone who looks on a woman lustfully
has already committed adultery with her in his heart”

In this way, he beckons us to go deeper. Turning our attention inward, let us follow Christ’s call.

Beyond Rules

Christ’s words in the Sermon on the Mount were not only directed to his immediate listeners, but to all
people throughout history—even to us.

Although some have not heard the words of Scripture—“Do not commit adultery”—this law is

“written upon the heart” of every human person (Rm. 2:15). For that reason, Jesus’ teaching about
adultery is relevant to everyone.

Christ shifts the debate about sexual morality away from external actions and into the heart.

Biblically, the heart is the center of a person—the source of our thoughts, our emotions, and our will.
It is not enough for us to keep our bodies from sin; our hearts must also be transformed.

This is a demanding teaching. It is a call to live in the fullness of God’s image. It reminds us that

we are far more than just biological creatures driven by impulse. We are moral beings, capable of
choosing between right and wrong, and responsible for our decisions. But our outward actions are only
an expression of our interior lives. True morality begins in the heart.

Adultery is an offense against the unity of marriage. Husband and wife are “one flesh.” Adultery

is committed outwardly when a wife or husband attempts to unite with another. Inwardly, adultery is
committed “in the heart” when a wife or husband desires to unite with another.

Often, lust committed “in the heart” starts with the eyes. This was the case with David and

Bathsheba. From his roof, David “saw a woman bathing” (2 Sm. 11:2). Christ draws the same
connection, saying that “anyone who looks on a woman lustfully has already committed adultery with
her in his heart.”

Though Jesus gives the example of a man who looks upon a woman with lust, his words also

apply to women. He doesn’t mean for us to concentrate on the example of a particular man. His words
are a key, unlocking a new perspective on morality.

Christ calls us beyond merely following a set of rules, to complete transformation by grace.

Fruits of the Fall

According to the Bible, there are three forms of lust. The Apostle John writes of “the lust of the flesh,
the lust of the eyes, and the pride of life.” These things are not “of the Father,” he says, but “of the
world” (1 Jn. 2:16).

“Do not love the world,” John cautions us. “The world and its desires pass away, but the man who

does the will of God lives forever” (1 Jn. 2:15–16). We have come very far from the first chapter of
Genesis. There, the world is repeatedly called “very good.”

The three forms of lust were not part of God’s original creation. They are fruits of the Fall,

belonging to tree of the knowledge of good and evil in man’s heart. They spring from our broken
covenant with God.

Once again, while striving to understand the full meaning of Christ’s words, we must go back to

the beginning—to the Book of Genesis.

In Genesis, we find the prehistory of the “man of lust” described by Christ and St. John. From the

beginning, Adam and Eve lived in a state of innocence. But they lost their innocence by breaking a
covenant with God, thus entering a state of sinfulness. Between these two situations lies a key
moment, when Adam and Eve questioned the gift of creation.

In eating the fruit of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil, Adam and Eve were motivated by

mistrust. They doubted God and believed the tempter instead. “‘You will not die,’ the serpent said to
the woman. ‘For God knows that when you eat of it your eyes will be opened, and you will be like
God, knowing good and evil’” (Gen. 3–5).

Creation is God’s gift, born from love. Sin arose when man rejected this love, and treated creation

as something other than a gift. He cast God out of his heart. What is left is the hollow world John
speaks of, with all its empty lusts.

Nakedness Lost

Here are the first words describing man after the Fall: “Then the eyes of both of them were opened,
and they realized they were naked; so they sewed fig leaves together and made coverings for
themselves” (Gen. 3:7)

This sentence also describes the beginning of lust. Originally, “The man and his wife were both

naked, and they felt no shame” (Gen. 2:25). Now, as a result of sin, shame has entered the picture.
With shame comes that which is “not of the Father, but of the world”—lust.

When Adam and Eve feel shame for the first time, it shakes them to the core of their being. Their

communion with God is broken; for the first time, they fear him.

Then the man and his wife heard the sound of the Lord God as he was walking in the garden in the cool of the day, and

they hid from the Lord God among the trees of the garden. But the Lord God called to the man, “Where are you?”

He answered, “I heard you in the garden, and I was afraid because I was naked; so I hid.” (Gen. 3:8–10)

Adam says, “I was afraid, because I was naked.” Something deeper than mere embarrassment over

nakedness is at work here. Physical nakedness is not the source of Adam’s fear.

God asks, “Who told you that you were naked? Have you eaten from the tree that I commanded

you not to eat from?” (Gen. 3:11).

Nakedness here goes beyond literal, physical nakedness. Remember, nakedness is actually a sign

of fullness—of all the good that God intended for man. In the beginning, the human body was a clear
sign of God’s image. Through its masculinity and femininity, it was a sign of mutual, self-giving love.
In a way, man’s acceptance of the body was the key to his acceptance of the entire world—the gift of
creation.

Adam’s words, “I was afraid, because I was naked” signal a radical change. He has lost the sense

that the image of God is expressed in his body. He has lost the peace and joy that come with
awareness of the true value of his body. He has lost the original vision of creation: “And God saw that
it was very good” (Gen. 1:31). For Adam and Eve, clothing became a sign of their alienation from the
gift of creation, their rejection of God’s love.

Sin obscures the true meaning of the body as a sign of the human person, made in the image of

God. At the same time, it creates a rift between the body and the earth. From this point on, whenever
man works the ground, he will face hardship and hostility. “Cursed is the ground because of you;
through painful toil you will eat of it all the days of your life” (Gen. 3:17).

Through sin, man lost his original fullness of the image of God. Lust—of the flesh, the eyes, and

the pride of life—is completely foreign to the image of God. But it is part of our fallen humanity.

Shame is not directly linked to the body. Neither is lust. Shame and lust arise from the heart; they

are results of sin, not nakedness in and of itself. Like all forms of evil, lust is not a positive thing in
itself; it is a lack. Lust is not food, but hunger; not fullness, but emptiness.

Shame and Innocence

The shame felt by Adam and Eve before their Creator could be called “cosmic shame.” But their sin
also gave rise to human shame between Adam and Eve.

In the fullness of creation, Adam mirrored God not only by himself, but in his communion with

Eve. God is a communion of persons; so are a man and woman when united in love. When shame
disrupted their communion, Adam and Eve were compelled to hide their nakedness from each other.

The words, “I was afraid, because I was naked,” reveal a rupture in the original spiritual and

physical unity of man. For the first time, Adam becomes conscious of having a body. He looks upon
his body as a physical, almost foreign, thing. What once was light, aglow with the spirit, transparently
revealing the image of God, now seems heavy and burdensome.

Throughout history, humans have continued to see the body in this way. The Apostle Paul speaks

of a law of sin at work within the body :

When I want to do good, evil is right there with me. In my inner being I delight in God’s law; but I see another law at

work in the members of my body, waging war against the law of my mind and making me a prisoner of the law of sin at

work within my members. What a wretched man I am! Who will rescue me from this body of death? (Rom. 7:21–24)

In the state of original innocence, the body was fully illumined by the spirit. Now, something

within the body is at war with the spirit. The unity of the person is at risk.

This is especially true with lust. The “man of lust” doesn’t control his body with ease and

naturalness, as the man of original innocence did. Self-control is essential to the moral integrity of
human beings. Lust attacks the person at his core by throwing body and spirit out of balance.

Shame between persons is connected with this imbalance. It is especially highlighted in the area of

sexuality. We see this in Genesis 3:7, when Adam and Eve cover the parts of their bodies that
specifically reveal their sexuality: “Then the eyes of both of them were opened, and they realized they
were naked; so they sewed fig leaves together and made coverings for themselves.”

Shame centers on those parts of the body that, in the call to unity, allow two persons to become

“one flesh.” Instead of a spiritual/physical unity revealing the image of God, the human body now
seems to be a physical object. This is the origin of lust.

Man is ashamed of his body because of lust. The body itself is not shameful, but the law of lust

operating within the body is. By treating the body as an object, lust misuses the original gift of the
body and sexuality.

Shame reveals the threat posed to the person by lust. In covering those parts of the body that

reveal our sexuality, modesty is a defense mechanism against lust. Ever since sin entered the world,
human beings have covered the body to preserve its value.

Though lust has ruptured the unity of spirit and body, it hasn’t entirely won the day. Shame reveals

that the memory of our innocence is still alive. Christ appeals to this sense of the body’s worth, which
remains in the heart of every person.

Broken Communion

Because they bear God’s image, and because God is a community of three Persons, man and woman
were created to form a communion of persons. This is expressed by their complementary bodies.

This communion was shattered by the first sin. The original meaning of the body as a gift, so

eloquently expressed in the second chapter of Genesis (“The man and his wife were both naked, and
they felt no shame”), is brought into question.

Sexual shame causes us to doubt whether the body is still capable of forming the true, self-giving

communion that God intended. Of course, Adam and Eve did not stop communicating to each other
through body language—movements, gestures, and expressions. But the simple, direct communication
of mutual nakedness disappeared. For the first time, Adam and Eve experienced their bodies—male
and female—in opposition to each other. “They realized they were naked” and they felt shame within
themselves not only before God but also before each other.

“Then the eyes of both of them were opened, and they realized they were naked; so they sewed fig

leaves together and made coverings for themselves” (Gen. 3:7) This is the second discovery of sex for
Adam and Eve. It is radically different from the first discovery, the joy of which was expressed in
Adam’s song:

This is now bone of my bones,

and flesh of my flesh;

she shall be called ‘woman’

for she was taken out of man.” (Gen. 2:23)

Here, we see the difference between the man of original innocence and the man of lust. In the state

of original innocence, the masculine and feminine bodies were the basis of the communion of persons.
In the state of sinfulness, sexuality seems to be an obstacle to unity—a cause for fear and mistrust.
Because of the broken communion between man and woman, the body must be covered and guarded.
The gift is now limited.

Shame is a symptom of our separation from the selfless love which is “of the Father” (1 Jn. 2:15).

Lust is the disease that keeps us from experiencing the body as a gift.

Sexual Division

As Genesis 3 describes, shame appeared in the first man along with original sin. In the state of
innocence, absolute trust prevailed between man and woman. Afterwards, shame took its place.

After describing the first sin, Genesis 3 records God’s words to fallen man. Turning to the woman,

he speaks first of the pain that will accompany childbirth: “I will greatly increase your pains in
childbearing; with pain you will give birth” (Gen. 3:16).

Then God describes how woman will relate to man in the state of sinfulness: “Your desire will be

for your husband, and he will rule over you” (Gen. 3:16). These words describe a fundamental
violation of God’s original plan for man and woman. His plan was for man and woman to find
happiness in giving themselves fully to each other. This joyful self-giving was to be fully expressed in
both body and soul, and in the union of masculinity and femininity. And this happiness was to be
increased by the blessing of fertility and procreation.

The words of Genesis 3:16 seem to foretell how God’s original, beautiful plan for sexual union

will be distorted in man’s heart by lust. Sin broke the original communion between man and woman
and put them at odds with each other. Their sexuality—which was intended for union—became a point
of division. In the beginning, man was created male and female. Now, it seems, man is male or
female.

Man and woman were created for, and are still called to, marriage. Every person is called from

eternity to exist in communion. Sin did not destroy sexual union as willed by the Creator from the
beginning (see Gen 2:24), or make it evil. But it added a new, destructive element to sexuality—lust.

The married couple described in Genesis 3:16 (“Your desire will be for your husband, and he will

rule over you”) is the very same couple described in Genesis 2:24 (“For this reason a man will leave
his father and mother and be united to his wife, and they will become one flesh”). They are still called
to sexual union. But now, that union is threatened by the insatiable cravings of lust.

The Apostle John lists three forms of lust: “The lust of the flesh, the lust of the eyes, and the pride

of life” (1 Jn. 2:16). We see the beginnings of all three in Genesis. “He will rule over you”—isn’t this
a description of the pride of life? The “rule” of man over woman is a distortion of God’s original plan
for the communion of persons. Because of the man’s “rule,” the woman appears in his eyes as a lesser
entity, an object to be desired by the lust of the eyes.

Lust is a barrier to unity. It keeps men and women from experiencing sexual union as a pure, self-

giving communion of persons. This is the root of sexual shame.

Communion vs. Domination

Shame doesn’t arise from the body or sexuality itself, but from the wounds inflicted on the spirit by
sin. It flows from our awareness of lust—our realization that the original simplicity and purity of
sexuality has been distorted by insatiable desire.

Shame is a response to lust, and aims to protect us from its consequences. In fact, through shame,

man and woman almost remain in the state of original innocence. If they continually nurture the
nuptial, gift-giving understanding of the body and strive to protect it from lust, a married couple can
experience sexual union the way it was meant to be—as a true communion of persons.

Genesis 2:24 speaks of how the union of bodies relates to the union of persons: “A man will leave

his father and mother and be united to his wife, and they will become one flesh.” This union is by
choice—a man chooses to leave his parents and unite with his wife. And this union is sacramental—it
is a physical sign of invisible grace, as the union of bodies seals the union of persons.

Looking at God’s original plan for sexuality, we can see more clearly the distortion caused by sin.

After the Fall, there is still a call to bodily union (“Your desire will be for your husband”), but lust
directs this union in its own way (“and he will rule over you”). The lust of the flesh desires to satisfy
the body in ways that limit or harm the communion of persons. For the man, lust stirs up an impulse to
dominate and use the woman.

A true communion of persons must be a full, selfless union of body and spirit—two persons

giving themselves freely to each other. Lust creates a different kind of relationship, characterized by
domination. Lust shifts the goal of union from communion to possession—obtaining the object of your
desire.

The Genesis account, like Jesus’ Sermon on the Mount, seems to single out the man as the one

who lusts. But both men and women are subject to lust. While men in particular are susceptible to the
lust of the eyes, the woman can participate by presenting herself as an object and attempting to arouse
lust.

The meaning of the body is not just an intellectual idea. It is a way of “living the body.” It is the

measure by which we conduct our lives as embodied, sexual beings. It is a matter of our deepest
selves, our “hearts”—the part of us Christ appeals to in the Sermon on the Mount.

The Battle for the Heart

We know from the Book of Genesis that human sexuality was not created only for procreation. The
body, masculine and feminine, has a nuptial meaning: it is capable of expressing the selfless love by
which a person becomes a gift. By becoming a gift, the human person fulfills the deepest meaning of
his existence.

The three forms of lust—of the flesh, of the eyes, and the pride of life—all limit and distort the

original, nuptial meaning of the body. This distortion takes place in the heart. Outwardly, the body
hasn’t changed. It is still created for communion. But inwardly, in the experience of the heart, sexuality
no longer seems to aim at communion. The body, masculine or feminine, has instead become only an
object of lust.

In the state of original innocence, the body was a perfect expression of the spirit. Now, the law of

lust operates in the flesh, inhibiting the expression of the spirit and the experience of the gift. When sin
entered the world, the body almost lost its ability to express gift-love. Almost. The gift is constantly
threatened by lust, but it can’t be entirely destroyed.

The heart has become a battlefield between love and lust. As lust gains ground, it destroys our

ability to experience the nuptial meaning of the body. In the area of sexuality, the heart becomes
hardened towards the person.

The human person is the only physical creature created for communion with God. For that reason,

the person should never be reduced to an object. At the same time, a person can only discover his true
self by making a sincere gift of himself to another. Lust attacks this free, sincere giving. It reduces the
person to an “object for the other,” instead of being “united with the other” in love.

The attacks of lust aren’t always obvious. Sometimes, under the cover of strong emotions, lust

disguises itself as “love”—still, it remains selfish at the core. Does this mean we should always
distrust the heart? No! But we must keep watch over it.

Mutual Belonging

In simple, eloquent words, the Book of Genesis describes how the relationship between the sexes
changed from one of mutual giving to one of mutual taking. Though Genesis 3 suggests that this is
most often at the woman’s expense, it is harmful to the man as well.

If a man treats a woman as an object and not a gift, he condemns himself to become an object in

her eyes. Both hearts lose the ability to freely give of themselves.

There is a parallel between Genesis 3:16 (“Your desire will be for your husband, and he will rule

over you”) and Jesus’ words in Matthew 5:28 (“I tell you that anyone who looks at a woman lustfully
has already committed adultery with her in his heart”). In both, man fails to act as a guardian of

the

gift.

We have seen how sexuality was a gift from the beginning—the basis of a communion of persons,

mutual and freely chosen. While the gift is entrusted to both man and woman, the man bears greater
responsibility. He must exert a special effort to nurture and protect the gift, to restore its proper
balance. The man of lust, however, steals the gift of woman’s femininity.

In the nuptial meaning of the body, there’s a beautiful understanding of mutual belonging. My

beloved. This phrase resounds throughout the Song of Songs. “I am my beloved’s, and his desire is for
me” (Song of Songs 7:10). Here, possession is not domination; ownership is not reduction to an object.
Instead, “my beloved” speaks of mutual giving and receiving. When spouses are united in one flesh,
experiencing the mutual gift of masculinity and femininity, the meaning of the body is preserved.

Lust distorts this mutual belonging of persons. In the language of love, “my” refers to the guarded

gift; in the language of lust, “my” refers to an object of possession. These conflicting languages
highlight the ongoing battle between love, which comes from the Father, and lust, which is “of the
world.”

The Way of the Gospel

Answering the question about divorce posed by the Pharisees, Jesus said: “Moses permitted you to
divorce because your hearts were hard. But it was not this way from the beginning” (Mt. 19:8).

Because of their hardness of heart, the people of the Old Testament deviated from God’s original

plan for marriage. The Law could do nothing to restore what had been lost. But in the Sermon on the
Mount, Christ proclaims a new way forward: the Gospel.

In Christ’s teaching, the Gospel is closely connected with “the beginning”—the original fullness of

God’s creation. At the same time, the Sermon on the Mount is addressed to sinners. It is to lustful
human beings that Jesus says, “I tell you that anyone who looks on a woman lustfully has already
committed adultery with her in his heart.”

Jesus’ words don’t just apply to his contemporaries. Reading this passage, we feel that he speaks

directly to us. Christ knows our hearts. This is what makes the Gospel universal—addressed to all
human beings, in all times and places.

Since the day sin came into the world, the history of the heart has been shaped by lust in its three

forms. “For out of the heart come evil thoughts, murder, adultery, sexual immorality, theft, false
testimony, and slander” (Mt. 15:19). Laws and rules may constrain our outward behavior, but they
can’t heal our distorted desires. The Gospel is aimed at the heart.

The Spirit of the Law

Let’s put ourselves in the place of those who first heard the Sermon on the Mount. They were sons and
daughters of God’s chosen people. They were the ones who received the Law in the first place. Time
and time again, their prophets had chastised them for breaking the commandment against adultery.
Jesus also speaks of adultery, but not only the outward breaking of the commandment.

Over the centuries, God’s will for his people concerning marriage became obscured. A legal

system developed that was based more on human weakness than divine intent.

Christ didn’t want to do away with this Law, but to reveal its true meaning. “Do not think that I

have come to abolish the Law or the Prophets; I have not come to abolish them but to fulfill them”
(Mt. 5:17).

Among the people of the Old Testament, polygamy was accepted. During the time of the

Patriarchs, multiple wives were desired to produce a greater number of children. Procreation was the
essential reason for marriage. There were even loving wives who, because they were barren, arranged
for servant women to bear their husband’s children. This was the case of Sarah with Abraham (Gen.
16:2) and Rachael with Jacob (Gen. 30:3).

The Ten Commandments didn’t change this tradition. Following Moses, the most renowned

Israelites were David and Solomon, who carried polygamy to new extremes. Instead of doing away
with lust, the interpretation of the Law became shaped by it. Though David married multiple times, it
wasn’t considered adultery against his first wife. But when he took Bathsheba—who was already
another man’s wife—he knew he had sinned (2 Sam. 11).

The chosen people saw no conflict between polygamy and the commandment, “Do not commit

adultery.” Taking another man’s wife was strongly condemned—but more as a violation of property
rights than a violation of God’s design for marriage. This is why Christ appealed to “the beginning”
when answering the Pharisee’s question about divorce.

On another occasion, Christ took the side of a woman caught in adultery and protected her from

being stoned to death. He challenged her accusers: “If any one of you is without sin, let him throw the
first stone.” One at a time, the men put their stones down and leave. “Has no one condemned you?”
Christ asks the woman. “Then neither do I condemn you. Go now and leave your life of sin” (Jn. 8:7–
11).

Clearly, Christ considered adultery a sin. But when he turned to the accusers, he didn’t quote the

Law—he spoke to their consciences. The law written on the heart can be deeper, and even more
reliable, than an external law.

Legalized Sin

Jesus’ audience knew the Ten Commandments by heart. “You have heard it said. . . .” As part of the
chosen race, they felt bound by the Law. But the Old Testament shows us how even a people bound to
God through a special covenant can continually break his commands.

The books of Leviticus, Numbers, and Deuteronomy spell out a multitude of rules, covering every

aspect of daily life. As polygamy became legally established, the need arose to protect its boundaries.
And so we find many precepts—backed up by severe punishments—against adultery.

Christ clearly saw the contradictions within this legal system. While attempting to uphold

marriage, it allowed for polygamy and the taking of concubines—slaves or prisoners of war forced to
become wives. Although Genesis presents the monogamous marriages of Adam, Seth, and Noah as
ideals, the lives of the Patriarchs give a counter-example. Abraham took a second wife because his
first was barren, and Jacob had two wives and two concubines.

While it is likely that monogamy was more common throughout society, and kings were warned

against taking too many wives (Deut. 17:17), polygamy and concubinage were never condemned.
These “rights,” created as a concession to human weakness, had the effect of legalizing sin.

This context helps us better understand the Sermon on the Mount. The Sixth Commandment, “Do

not commit adultery,” had been obscured by layers of compromise and legalism. Christ wipes away
these layers, revealing the true meaning of the commandment—a shining call to purity.

The Law and the Prophets

While Christ sharply diverges from the traditional interpreters of the Law, he carries the spirit of the
Prophets to its fulfillment. In the prophetic books of the Old Testament, we see a different concept of
adultery than the one presented in the legal books. Isaiah, Hosea, and Ezekiel depict God as a spouse,
united in love to Israel as a husband to his wife. Time and time again, Israel abandons God to chase
after idols—a betrayal that amounts to adultery.

Hosea reveals Israel’s adultery not only in his words but, more dramatically, through his actions.

He hears a call from God to take a prostitute and adulteress for a wife, demonstrating Israel’s
unfaithfulness to her faithful God (Hos. 1:2, 3:1). Hosea shows that, though Israel forgets God and
follows other lovers, he patiently waits for her return.

“In that day,” declares the Lord,

“you will call me ‘my husband’;

you will no longer call me ‘my master.’ . . .

I will betroth you to me forever;

I will betroth you in righteousness and justice,

in love and compassion.

I will betroth you in faithfulness,

and you will know the Lord.” (Hos. 2:16, 19–20)

Like Hosea, the Book of Ezekiel draws a strong connection between idolatry and adultery. First,

Ezekiel describes God’s transforming love for Israel. He describes her as a newborn child, abandoned
in a field on the day of her birth. The Lord rescued and nurtured her. “I made you grow like a plant of
the field. You grew up and developed and became the most beautiful of jewels” (Ez. 16:7).

When she reached maturity, God adorned her with gold, jewels, and fine garments. “I gave you my

solemn oath and entered into a covenant with you, declares the Sovereign Lord, and you became mine.
. . . And your fame spread among the nations on account of your beauty, because the splendor I had
given you made your beauty perfect” (Ez. 16:8, 14).

But Israel broke the covenant:

“You trusted in your beauty and used your fame to become a prostitute. You lavished your favors on anyone who

passed by. . . . You took some of your garments to make gaudy high places, where you carried on your prostitution. . . .

You also took the fine jewelry I gave you, the jewelry made of my gold and silver, and you made for yourself male

idols and engaged in prostitution with them. And you took your embroidered clothes to put on them, and you offered

my oil and incense before them. . . . You adulterous wife! You prefer strangers to your own husband!” (Ez. 16:15–18,

32)

This view of adultery is very different from the one found in the books of law. Legally, adultery

was a matter of property rights. It primarily concerned the man’s ownership of his wife, who might be
one among many.

In the Prophets, adultery is a sin against love. Far more than just an offense against one partner’s

“rights,” adultery contradicts marriage itself. What is marriage? A one-flesh union between one man
and one woman. If polygamy were brought into the picture, the metaphor would lose all force.

The Prophets wrote of the union between God and Israel, but Jesus applied the same wisdom to

human marriage. Faithfulness can only be found in an exclusive relationship where husband and wife
unite to become one. In this way, husband and wife become an authentic sign of God’s love. All of
Christian sexual morality hinges on whether the union of bodies is a truthful sign of God’s love.
Adultery fails this test.

The Voice of Wisdom

The Old Testament legal tradition was concerned with adultery of the body. But Christ shifts the focal
point of sin from the body to the heart. “I tell you that anyone who looks on a woman lustfully has
already committed adultery with her in his heart.”

To his immediate audience, Jesus’ words about lust might have called to mind the Wisdom books

of the Old Testament. Proverbs, for example, repeatedly warns against the snares of lust.

This Wisdom literature strikes us as one-sided, since it is addressed almost exclusively to men,

and it most often links feminine beauty with seduction. But it also praises the beauty and grace of the
virtuous wife. The Wisdom of Sirach gives this description: “A wife’s charm delights her husband, and
her skill puts fat on his bones. . . . Like the shining lamp on a holy lampstand, so is a beautiful face on
a stately figure. Like pillars of gold on a base of silver, so are beautiful feet with a steadfast heart.”
(Sir. 26:13, 17–18).

The good wife is contrasted with the temptress—the woman whose beauty is cause for adultery. In

the Book of Proverbs, a father warns his son, “Do not lust in your heart after her beauty, or let her
captivate you with her eyes” (Prov. 6:25). And Sirach instructs, “Turn your eyes away from a shapely
woman, and do not look intently at beauty belonging to another.” (Sir. 9:8–9).

The Wisdom books sought to teach virtue and uphold the moral order. While they didn’t challenge

the legal system of their day, they are justly famed for their insight into the human heart. They appeal
to the interior man—the conscience—and in that sense they prefigure Christ’s radical shift in the basis
of morality. The Wisdom books, together with the Prophets, helped prepare the hearts of the people for
the transforming power of Christ.

The Look of Lust

In the Wisdom literature, lust is often compared to fire. Sirach gives us this picture:

The soul heated like a burning fire will not be quenched until it is consumed. . . . A man who breaks his marriage vows

says in his heart, “Who sees me? Darkness surrounds me and the walls hide me. No one sees me. Why should I fear?” .

. . He only fears the eyes of men. He does not realize that the eyes of the Lord are ten thousand times brighter than the

sun. They see all the ways of men, and consider even the hidden places. (Sir. 23:16–19).

Flaring up from within, lust invades the senses, excites the body, and takes hold of the heart. Lust

is restless—it creates an insatiable desire to satisfy the body and its senses. It promises gratification
and peace, but only adds fuel to the fire. In its restless pursuit of satisfaction, lust drowns out the
voice of conscience and dulls sound thinking. Eventually, it exhausts the spirit and its prey is
consumed.

This was the image of lust familiar to Jesus and his audience. While the men described in

Proverbs and Sirach have already committed adultery, Christ takes a step back. Before adultery is
committed in the body, he says, it is committed in the heart, through the eyes.

The way we look reveals what is in our hearts. As we saw in our earlier reflections, sexuality

flows from the gift-giving, nuptial meaning of the body. In marriage, husband and wife are called to
become one flesh, forming a selfless communion of persons. But lust looks at the body in a way that
denies its nuptial and procreative (life giving) meaning.

“Anyone who looks on a woman lustfully has already committed adultery with her in his heart.”

How is lust a form of adultery? Both violate the true meaning of the body. Both cheapen sexuality and
reduce the body to an object.

Is a lustful glance really so harmful? The author of Proverbs asks another question: “Can a man

scoop fire into his lap without his clothes being burned? Can a man walk on hot coals without his feet
being scorched?” (Prov. 6:27–28).

Sexual desire can be a destructive force. In order for it to become the positive, creative power it

was meant to be, it must be transformed by Christ.

True Attraction

A psychologist might define lust as “desire for an object because of its value.” Jesus defines it as
“adultery committed in the heart.” While not contradicting the psychological definition, Christ
goes deeper, revealing how lust attacks the nuptial meaning of the body.

In the mystery of God’s creation, sexual attraction is a call to communion. Lust is a lie. It keeps

us from hearing the call to self-giving inscribed in the body itself. Men have always been attracted to
the feminine form, and women to the masculine. This, in itself, is not lust. The original attraction of
man for woman was eloquently expressed by Adam: “This is now bone of my bones and flesh of my
flesh” (Gen. 2:23). Compared to this, lust is an impoverishment—a closing of mind and heart. It is one
thing for a man to be aware of the value of sexuality among the other riches of a woman. It is another
to reduce all the riches of her femininity to a single value—sex.

Lust obscures the significance of the body and the worth of the person. Femininity and masculinity

are languages of the spirit—complementary ways of being an embodied person. By silencing this
language, lust blinds us to the beautiful, nuptial meaning of the body. Lust in the heart aims not to
establish a communion of persons, but only to satisfy the sexual urges of the body.

According to Jesus, this reduction of the person can be expressed in a single look. In the man’s

heart, the woman ceases to be valued as a whole person, as Eve was valued by Adam, and instead
becomes an object of lust.

Objectifying the Body

In the situation described by Christ, the man—by looking lustfully—denies the true beauty of the
woman. He reduces her to an object for the satisfaction of his sexual urges. His action is purely
interior—expressed only by a look—but it signals a fundamental change. The magnitude of this
change is revealed by Jesus’ words: he “has already committed adultery with her in
his heart.”

The change involves man’s view of why God created human beings as male and female in the first

place. The eternal attraction of men to women arises from the call to communion. Lust denies this
attraction, limiting it to a purely sexual level.

When a man gives his will over to lustful desire, it colors all of his decisions. It alters, at the most

basic level, the way he relates to other human beings—especially women. The result is a total loss of
freedom. Instead of experiencing the body and its sexuality as a gift, the man becomes dominated by
his bodily urges. The words of Sirach are apt: “The soul heated like a burning fire will not be
quenched until it is consumed.”

This is not to question sexual desire itself, which is directed towards union and procreation.

Christ’s teaching is far from Manichaeism—the belief that the spirit is good and the body evil. True
Christian belief has always affirmed the goodness of God’s creation, including the body, sexuality, and
procreation.

Disorder occurs when sexual desire seeks its own satisfaction rather than the communion of

persons. Instead of controlling his sexual urges, a man becomes controlled by them. Then, the woman
becomes the object of his potential satisfaction. The sort of union he desires is very different from the
communion to which Adam and Eve were called from the beginning.

Jesus speaks of a man desiring a woman, but the situation could be reversed. A woman who

desires a man as an object for her satisfaction also denies the true meaning of the body.

Lust redirects sexual desire from communion to gratification, reducing the person to an object.

This denial of the nuptial meaning of the body—this “adultery”—takes place in the heart.

Adultery within Marriage

Christ is showing us how the Sixth Commandment, “Do not commit adultery,” must be understood and
put into practice if we are to fulfill God’s intent. God desires a justice greater than that of the
Pharisees and teachers of the law.

The key phrase for grasping Christ’s teaching is “adultery in the heart.” This is a paradox. How

can you commit adultery without committing adultery? Legally, adultery is an external act that occurs
when a man and woman who are not legal spouses unite as if they were. How can adultery happen
without this act?

“Adultery in the heart” is usually understood as desire for another man’s wife. It occurs when a

man looks lustfully at a woman who is not his wife. According to this interpretation, a man is free to
look lustfully at his own wife. By virtue of marriage, he has the right to become one flesh with her and,
therefore, the right to reduce her to an object for his gratification. She is his possession, and he is free
to look upon her lustfully.

This interpretation seems to follow the Ten Commandments, where—in addition to “Do not

commit adultery”—we are told, “Do not covet your neighbor’s wife” (Ex. 20:17).

But in light of Christ’s entire revelation, this interpretation must be broadened. Jesus affirms the

Ten Commandments, but he doesn’t stop there—he sheds new light on them.

Jesus criticized the wrong-headed, one-sided view of adultery that arose in a legal system that

allowed for polygamy. In his teaching on adultery in the heart, we again find a truth that goes beyond
the legal status of the man and woman in question.

In the situation posed by Jesus, a man looks upon a woman lustfully. It is significant that Christ

describes her simply as “a woman”—not “another man’s wife.” Adultery in the heart is not limited to
the legal boundaries that define adultery committed in the body. Instead, it is defined by the presence
of lust. In Christ’s example, the man’s relationship to the woman doesn’t change the fact that he
commits adultery in his heart by looking lustfully. Even if she is his wife, if he reduces her to an
object he is still guilty of adultery in his heart.

This interpretation takes into account the true nature of lust. It reduces the call to form a

communion of persons—the perennial attraction of masculinity and femininity—to mere satisfaction of
the sex instinct. It reduces a person, called into existence for her own sake, to a object for my
pleasure. The man who looks lustfully seeks to use the woman in this way. This is the full meaning of
adultery in the heart.

In all times and places, the dignity and balance of human life depends on who men and women will

be for each other. Men and women can only live together truthfully when they are free from the lies
and limitations of lust.

The Path to Purity

Adultery is sinful because marriage is sacred. According to God’s plan for marriage, a man and a
woman unite so as to become one flesh. The nuptial relationship is one of free, mutual giving.
Adultery—whether of the body or of the heart—attacks the core of this union.

The Old Testament law placed many strict penalties on adultery, but it failed to fulfill the Sixth

Commandment. Instead, it made legal concessions for lust and hardness of heart.

In the Sermon on the Mount, we begin to see the new path opened by Christ. He shows us the

depths to which we must go in order to “fulfill” the Law in our hearts. The Sixth Commandment cannot
be fulfilled by “following the rules,” but only by purifying our hearts.

How can we become pure of heart? By restoring Christ’s lordship over our hearts and bodies and

battling lust. In figurative language, Jesus describes the extent of the struggle:

If your right eye causes you to sin, gorge it out and throw it away. It is better for you to lose one part of your body

than for your whole body to be thrown into hell. And if your right hand causes you to sin, cut it off and throw it away.

It is better for you to lose one part of your body than for your whole body to be thrown into hell. (Mt. 5:29–30)

On the same theme, the Apostle Paul writes:

Count yourselves dead to sin but alive to God in Christ Jesus. Do not let sin reign in your mortal body so that you

should obey its evil desires. Do not offer the parts of your body to sin, as instruments of wickedness, but rather offer

yourselves to God, as those who have been brought from death to life. (Rm. 6:11–13)

Christ seeks to liberate us from lust, redeeming the heart so that husbands and wives can truly

love and give themselves fully to each other. Will we fear the severity of Christ’s words, or have
confidence in their power to save us from lust?

Embodied Morality

The study of ethics is not just an intellectual exercise. Above all, morality must be lived. How can—
and how should—Christ’s teaching shape our thoughts, feelings, and actions?

At times, the effort to live out Christ’s teaching has gone awry. His words have often been

misunderstood and even twisted into heresy. Consider Manichaeism in its various historical
incarnations. The Manichaeans tried to enter Christianity, bringing a much different view of the body
than the one presented in the Bible. Their philosophy saw everything in terms of two opposing forces:
matter and spirit. Matter, they believed, is the source of all evil, while spirit is good. A human being,
then, is a good spirit trapped in an evil body.

For the Manichaeans, all aspects of bodily life were degrading, but especially sexuality and

procreation. By bringing children into the physical world, procreation imprisons more spirits in bodies.
The Manichaean “elect” practiced rigorous bodily self-discipline, completely abstaining from meat
and wine as well as marriage and sex.

In Christ’s teaching about adultery in the heart, the Mani-chaeans saw a condemnation of the body.

The body itself, they believed, was the cause of sin. This seemed to be confirmed by Jesus’ strict
words about gorging out an eye and cutting off a hand.

But, contrary to the Manichaeans, Jesus locates sin in the heart—not the body. Jesus doesn’t

oppose the sinful body with the good spirit. Instead, he says:

What goes into a man’s mouth does not make him ‘unclean,’ but what comes out of his mouth, that is what makes him

‘unclean.’ . . . Don’t you see that whatever enters the mouth goes into the stomach and then out of the body? But the

things that come out of the mouth come from the heart, and these make a man ‘unclean.’ For out of the heart come

evil thoughts, murder, adultery, sexual immorality, theft, false testimony, slander. (Mt. 15: 11, 17–19)

Far from condemning the body, Christ calls the total person to purity. True Christian morality

doesn’t flee bodily existence—it embraces and sanctifies it.

The Value of the Body

By upholding human dignity, Jesus’ words about lust affirm the value of the human body. The body
shares in our dignity as persons, just as much as the spirit.

The body manifests the spirit. It expresses the person. The sexual embrace, too, was designed to

express the invisible love and communion shared between spouses. In a way, then, the body and the
sexual embrace are both sacramental. Both are physical signs of spiritual realities.

In his exchange with the Pharisees about divorce, Christ upheld the one-flesh union of husband and

wife as a sacred bond (Mt. 19:3–8). In the Sermon on the Mount, he affirmed the value of the body as
a sacramental sign. By ignoring the sign and reducing the body to an object, lust rejects the body’s true
value.

Though man is sinful, this doesn’t mean that the body is evil. Sin clouds our ability to see the

original meaning of the body, but it can’t erase the meaning itself.

Our interpretation of Christ’s teaching, then, must be completely free from the negative,

Manichaean attitude towards the body. Such an attitude leads, ultimately, to the annihilation of the
body’s worth. It degrades human sexuality—or, at best, only tolerates it for the sake of procreation.

The right Christian attitude aims at purifying the heart so we can see the true value of the body

and sex, according to God’s original plan. Christians believe in the redemption and resurrection of the
body. Those who despise the body see nothing in it worth saving, and long for a wholly “spiritual” life
free from the body.

Christ calls our hearts to overcome evil. This means rooting out our sinful desires from within—

not transferring the blame for our sin to the external world. If a man looks lustfully at a woman, he
must not blame her for his sin. The woman’s body is not evil—even if she deliberately uses her
appearance to tempt the man. (This is a point that seems to be lacking in the Old Testament Wisdom
books.) Instead, her body is of a great value that, because of lust, is not fully appreciated.

Adultery in the heart devalues God’s creation. Christ speaks to the heart, calling for a rediscovery

of human dignity—particularly female dignity. The call to conquer lust springs from this dignity.
Anyone who reads a negative view of the body and sexuality into Christ’s teaching makes a
fundamental error.

The Heritage of the Heart

If the body is not evil, what about the heart?

This question is especially relevant in our time, since certain modern thinkers have accused the

heart of being dominated by lust in its three forms. Nietzsche interprets human action in terms of the
“will to power”—which is akin to what the Apostle John calls “the pride of life.” Marx argues that
history is shaped by the desire to acquire and protect wealth—in John’s words, “the lust of the eyes.”
And according to Freud, everything is ultimately driven by the sex urge—which is to say, “the lust of
the flesh.”

These influential thinkers place the heart under constant suspicion, and the Apostle seems to

confirm their distrust. Looking at the Bible as a whole, though, we see a different picture of man: he is
afflicted by lust, but not defined by it.

How is the “man of lust” described by Jesus and the Apostle John different from the man

described by Nietzsche, Marx, and Freud? First, Christ does not declare the heart a hopeless case,
entirely captive to the whims of lust. Instead, he calls it to purity. If the heart was lustful at the core, it
would be incapable of purity. Second, Christ offers the power of redemption. Purification isn’t
something we do on our own—it is accomplished through Christ. God created us by grace, and he can
redeem us by grace.

In light of Scripture, we can’t place the heart under total suspicion because of lust. We are not

helpless pawns of our sex instinct, or our desire for power and wealth. When we let Christ’s words
sink in, we begin to hear an echo of god’s original plan in our hearts.

Looking back to “the beginning,”

we learn that we are called to something better. We are called to love. We are called to live the truth
of our bodies, in their masculinity and femininity. This is our heritage from the beginning, the heritage
of the heart, which goes far deeper than lust in its three forms. Through Christ’s redeeming grace, the
heart’s fundamental longing for love is affirmed and empowered.

Passion and Purity

The Greek word for romantic love is eros. From Greek philosophy, it has trickled down into everyday
language—for example, when we call something “erotic.” This word does not appear in the Bible, in
either the New Testament (which was written in Greek) or in the ancient Greek translation of the Old
Testament (the Septuagint).

The Bible speaks of ethos—the condition of the heart with regard to what is true and good—but

not eros. In everyday speech, we often hear eros equated with lust. If what is erotic is always lustful,
then Jesus would condemn eros along with lust. But is that the case?

According the Plato, eros is a force within us, drawing us towards the good, the beautiful, and the

true. As the term is commonly used, it refers mainly to sexual attraction. It draws a man and woman
closer together, arousing the desire to unite their bodies. Though the word itself isn’t used, eros is
present in Genesis—in the call to become one flesh. Biblically, eros is at the foundation of the
communion of persons. When romantic love is channeled to this end, it is deeply connected to ethos—
what is good and right in God’s eyes.

In this light, eros is not the same as lust. Lust strains not for the beautiful or good, but for the

possession of a person for his or her sexual value. Especially in its platonic sense, eros strives
towards selfless love.

Jesus doesn’t condemn the heart or romantic love. He appeals to them. His call to overcome lust

is a call to embrace the good, the beautiful, and the true—eros rightly understood. Christ seeks to
redeem what has been weighed down by sin, restoring romantic love to its original sweetness.
Only when our hearts are free can we know the true joy of eros. Passion (eros) and purity (ethos) are
not opposed to one another. Instead, they are called to meet and bear fruit in the human heart. Christ’s
words are not exclusively a prohibition. They are a call to experience the fullness of erotic love.

The Hidden Spring

It is often thought that ethos—or morality—suffocates the spontaneous expression of eros. According
to this view, romantic love can only flourish when the fetters of morality are tossed aside. The Sermon
on the Mount seems to place a strict limit on eros. Does Jesus mean to hinder romance?

Ethics is usually understood in the negative sense—as rules and condemnations. The Sermon on

the Mount is often read in this way, too. Christ’s teaching on lust is reduced to a prohibition, a
limitation on our hearts. But when we look deeper, we see that Christ aims to liberate the heart from
the constraints of lust.

Everyone who accepts Christ’s teaching is called to fullness. That fullness includes the

spontaneous expression of romantic love. Such spontaneity is the fruit of eros and ethos together. It
arises from the careful discernment of our desires and motivations.

Jesus’ words are demanding. They require us to examine not only our bodily behavior, but also

our innermost thoughts. They demand that we be aware of our deepest impulses. A man must guard
his heart from impurity like a watchman protecting a hidden spring.

In order to respond to Christ’s message, we need to acquire a true and full understanding of the

human body in its masculinity and femininity. This truth cannot remain in our heads—it must be lived
in our hearts. It cannot be learned simply by reading a book—it demands a deep study of oneself. We
must learn to distinguish true attraction—appreciating the bountiful riches of masculinity and
femininity—from the simple reductions of lust. This is not an easy task, but through Christ it is
possible.

There is nothing truly spontaneous or free about lust. It doesn’t aspire to goodness, truth, or

beauty. Christ, however, far from stifling the noble desires of the heart, opens the way to their
fulfillment.

The New Man

By reconnecting body and heart—the exterior man with the interior—Christ introduces a new ethos, a
new way of living as an embodied person. In opposition to the teachers of the law, he shows that
holiness is about far more than following the rules. This is the ethos of redemption. It was not only
“new” to Jesus’ original audience, the heirs of the Old Testament. It is new and revolutionary for every
sinful human being.

Because of sin, the Apostle Paul writes, all of creation is “subjected to frustration” and in

“bondage to decay” (Rom. 8:20–21). All of creation longs for liberation, while human beings in
particular “wait eagerly for . . . the redemption of our bodies” (Rom. 8:23).

Christ did not come to redeem the “spiritual” aspect of man and leave the body behind. All of

Christ’s work—the entire Gospel—is directed towards the redemption of the body.

Jesus always speaks from the perspective of redemption. Remember his answer to the Pharisees’

question about divorce: “Moses permitted you to divorce your wives because your hearts were hard.
But it was not this way from the beginning” (Mt. 19:8). His appeal to the beginning only makes sense
in light of redemption. Without redemption, man would be in permanent bondage to lust and decay. It
would be useless to appeal to the state of original innocence as a standard for our lives today.

Christ does not change the Law. He confirms the commandment, “Do not commit adultery.” At the

same time, he leads us to the fullness of God’s original intent for this command. This fullness is
discovered by examining our hearts in light of the new ethos of redemption. To the extent that our
thoughts and actions are directed towards the redemption of the body, the man of lust gives way to the
“new man.” The way to nurture the new man within is by guarding our hearts and controlling our
impulses.

Sexual self-control is not simply about abstinence. It is not an emptiness, but a fullness. When we

allow Christ to transform our desires, the true meaning of the body and the person is
respected. Self-control protects the value—the attractiveness—of the other person, while lust only
cheapens it.

As eros is redeemed, our deepest longings are confirmed and strengthened. The heart finds its true

voice. This cannot happen if the heart is held in suspicion, as in Freudian psychology, or if the body is
condemned, as in Manichaean philosophy.

The path of self-mastery is not easy, especially for a person who has grown accustomed to giving

in to his impulses rather than controlling them. If he perseveres, though, such a person will feel a
growing sense of his own dignity. He will begin to experience the body as a gift, and sexuality as a
sign of communion—a reflection of God’s love. Freedom, the fruit of self-control, is the foundation
for love between persons. This is why love can only flourish where there is purity of heart.

True Purity

Near the beginning of the Sermon on the Mount, Jesus says, “Blessed are the pure in heart, for they
shall see God” (Mt. 5:8).

In everyday speech, the opposite of “pure” is “dirty.” For example, we may talk of a dirty road, a

filthy room, or a polluted stream. In the same way, a man can be dirty when his body is not clean. The
body must be washed to remove the dirt.

The Old Testament tradition placed great importance on bathing—for example, washing one’s

hands before eating, or one’s body after sexual relations. This ritual bathing was considered necessary
for “purity.” Unfortunately, purity became understood exclusively in an external sense—as a matter of
cleansing the outer man, but not necessarily the heart.

This is not to say that the entire Old Testament ignores the interior demands of purity. The

Prophets continually called their people back to faithfulness of both heart and action. And King David
prayed, “Create in me a clean heart, O God” (Ps. 51:10). This is the true spirit of the Law, which finds
fulfillment in Christ.

Jesus completely overturns the external, ritual system of purity. Nothing from the outside can

make a man pure or impure, he says—only what is in the heart. The bodily aspects of our sexuality do
not make a person “dirty.” And no ritual bath, by itself, can make a person pure. According to Jesus,
purity is a matter of the heart. All that is morally good is pure; all that is morally evil is impure.

The human heart is the battleground between purity and impurity—or, as the Apostle John put it,

between that which is of the Father and that which is of the world. In the writings of St. Paul, the
struggle is put in terms of “flesh” and “Spirit” (that is the Holy Spirit). Once again, the heart is at
stake:

So I say, live by the Spirit, and you will not gratify the desires of the sinful nature. For the sinful nature desires what is

contrary to the Spirit, and the Spirit what is contrary to the sinful nature. They are in conflict with each other. (Gal.

5:16–17)

At this point in our reflections, let us redirect our focus from the Sermon on the Mount to the

letters of St. Paul, seeking to learn how purity of heart is found in “living by the Spirit.”

Living by the Spirit

Throughout his letters, Paul examines conflict between good and evil within the human heart. The
Manichaeans also saw man as a conflicted being. For them, it was a struggle between matter and spirit
—the spiritual part of man is good, but the body is evil. For Paul, however, it is not that simple.

When Paul uses the terms “flesh” and “Spirit,” he does not mean body and soul. Instead, his use

of “flesh” is synonymous with John’s description of lust in its three forms. Flesh is not just something
outside of a man; it is the part of his heart dominated by sin. A person who lives “by the flesh” is
driven by desire for that which is “of the world.” The man described by Jesus, who looks upon a
woman lustfully, is a clear example.

The Spirit of God—who lives in the heart of every Christian—desires something entirely

different. God wants us to overcome the inertia of our sinful nature and develop a disposition to
purity. This strength is not our own—it is the power of Christ operating with us through the Holy
Spirit. “God has poured out his love into our hearts by the Holy Spirit, whom he has given us” (Rom.
5:5).

In his Letter to the Romans, Paul highlights the opposition between flesh and Spirit:

Those who live according to the flesh have their minds set on what the flesh desires; but those who live according to

the Spirit have their minds set on what the Spirit desires. To set the mind on the flesh is death, but to set the mind on

the Spirit is life and peace. The mind that is set on the flesh is hostile to God. . . . You, however, are controlled not by

the flesh but by the Spirit, if the Spirit of God lives in you. And if anyone does not have the Spirit of Christ, he does

not belong to Christ. But if Christ is in you, your body is dead because of sin, yet your spirit is alive because of

righteousness. (Rom. 8:5–10)

This passage brings to mind the consequences of sin described in Genesis. Life in the flesh began

when sin entered the world. Before that time, Adam and Eve lived entirely by the Spirit. With sin came
death and decay. But Paul goes on to anticipate the final victory over sin and death. The first sign of
this is Christ’s resurrection. “If the Spirit of him who raised Jesus from the dead is living in you, he
who raised Christ from the dead will also give life to your mortal bodies through his Spirit, who lives
in you” (Rom. 8:11).

Our only hope for victory is justification in Christ. This justification is not just a promise of

something that will happen in the future. It is a real power operating within the heart and expressed
through our actions. What does a Spirit-driven life look like?

The acts of the flesh are obvious: sexual immorality, impurity, and debauchery; idolatry, and witchcraft; hatred,

discord, jealousy, fits of rage, selfish ambition, dissentions, factions and envy; drunkenness, orgies, and the like. . . .

But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control. (Gal.

5:19–22)

The acts of the flesh spring from a heart given over to lust. The fruits of the Spirit flow from a

heart given over to Christ—this is the way of redemption.

The fruits of the Spirit aren’t acquired without effort. Behind each of these virtues—love, joy,

peace, and so on—there are moral choices, acts of the will. But it is only through the power of the
Holy Spirit that a person can overcome the flesh and choose goodness. Spirit-driven acts are not
human “works”—they are gifts of God.

Freedom in the Spirit

Paul’s statements about flesh and Spirit contain his entire theology of justification. They express his
faith in the reality of Christ’s redemption and its transforming power. Christ’s saving work is cosmic,
rescuing the entire universe from sin; but it begins with man and the redemption of the body.

A redeemed life is possible through the power of the Spirit. It begins in the heart, then bears fruit

in outward actions. Only through the Spirit can we follow the example set by Jesus in the Sermon on
the Mount.

The “flesh” is not limited to the sexual or physical realm. The “acts of the flesh” are closely

aligned with those things Christ describes as coming from an impure heart—“evil thoughts, murder,
adultery, sexual immorality, theft, false testimony, slander” (Mt. 15:19). The flesh, or impurity, distorts
every aspect of thought and behavior. All sin comes from the flesh; all purity from the Spirit.

“Therefore, brothers, we have an obligation—but it is not to the flesh, to live according to it. For if

you live by the flesh, you will die; but if by the Spirit you put to death the misdeeds of the body, you
will live” (Rom. 8:12–13). When Paul talks of putting to death the body’s misdeeds, he echoes
Christ’s words in the Sermon on the Mount. He appeals to the heart, calling it to overcome its sinful
desires. Self-control is essential for living by the Spirit.

When Paul says, “If you live by the flesh, you will die,” he doesn’t refer to the death of the body

alone, but also to the spirit. Even while the body still lives, sin can kill the spirit, deadening it to
God’s grace. This is why those who live by the flesh “will not inherit the kingdom of God” (Gal.
5:21).

Living by the flesh means bondage to sin and decay. But living by the Spirit brings true freedom:

“It is for freedom that Christ has set us free. Stand firm, then, and do not let yourselves be burdened
again by a yoke of slavery” (Gal. 5:1).

Again and again, Paul stresses that salvation does not come from following the prescriptions of the

Old Testament law. “You, my brothers, were called to be free. But do not use your freedom to indulge
the flesh; rather, serve one another in love” (Gal. 5:13).

Christ sets us free—not so that we might fall under the control of sin again, but that we might learn

purity of heart.

Love Fulfills

According to Paul, the entire moral system of the Old Testament is summed up in a single command:
“Love your neighbor as yourself” (Gal. 5:14). The Gospel is an appeal to human freedom. It shifts the
basis of morality away from external rules and regulations, relocating it in the heart. All of Christian
morality finds its fulfillment in a single word—love.

Paul reveals the connection between freedom and love. “You, my brothers, were called to be

free,” he writes. Therefore, “serve one another in love” (Gal. 5:13). Christ sets us free so that we may
love. Living by the Spirit means serving others.

There is a danger in misunderstanding what “freedom from the law” means. Paul warns against

using our freedom to indulge in sin—that is the opposite of true freedom. A person dominated by lust
cannot be free. Such a person cannot experience the full nuptial meaning of the body. He can not be a
true gift to another—he can only reduce the body to a sex object.

Among the “acts of the flesh,” Paul lists “sexual immorality, impurity, and debauchery.” He

contrasts these with self-control, one of the fruits of the Spirit. Self-control is inseparable from purity
of heart.

Paul’s teaching about flesh and Spirit is a faithful echo of the Sermon on the Mount. Following

Jesus, Paul says that purity and impurity are matters of the heart—not of anything external, such as
dietary taboos and ritual washings. Paul places purity of heart within the context of a Spirit-driven life
—a heart given over to Christ that expresses itself outwardly through self-control and acts of love.

Honoring the Body

For St. Paul, purity is expressed in self-control. In his first letter to the Thessalonians, he writes, “It is
God’s will that you should be sanctified: that you should avoid sexual immorality; that each of you
should learn to control his own body in a way that is holy and honorable. . . . For God did not call us
to be impure, but to live a holy life” (1 Th. 4:3–7).

Paul speaks of purity as a capacity that can be acquired through practice. But it requires

strenuous exercise and discipline. To find purity, we must bring our desires under Christ’s control,
directing them, with his help, towards the true, beautiful, and good.

Of course, purity means abstaining from lust. But purity is not simply negative—it is about more

than abstinence. In Paul’s words, it is a matter of directing the body towards holiness and honor.

The negative and positive poles of purity—abstinence and self-control—depend on each other. In

order to control the body in holiness, a person must honor the bodily and sexual aspects of human
existence. To acquire purity, a person must honor both himself and every other human being, male and
female.

Why should we honor the body? Because God created it and declared it “very good.” Does this

apply to every part of the body? Paul writes:

God has arranged the parts of the body, every one of them, just as he wanted them to be. . . . Those parts of the body

that seem to be weaker are indispensable, and the parts that we think are less honorable we treat with special honor.

And the parts that are unpresentable are treated with special modesty, while our presentable parts need no special

treatment. But God has combined the members of the body and has given greater honor to the parts that lacked it, so

that there should be no division in the body, but that its parts should have equal concern for one another. (1 Cor.

12:18–25)

Though Paul is actually writing about the Church—as the Body of Christ—his words deepen our
study of the theology of the body.

Self-control is not needed because the body is evil—the truth is just the opposite. The body

should be controlled with honor because it is worthy of honor. This is perhaps the most important
theme in Paul’s doctrine of purity.

Restoring Harmony

In the passage from 1 Corinthians just quoted, Paul gives us a realistic description of the human body.
It is not realistic because it is scientific, but because it resonates with truth.

Science can give us an objective description of the body; but it can only describe the body as a

physical object. It cannot describe the entire human person, who is expressed through the body and, in
a sense, is the body. All of human culture—literature, visual art, sculpture, dancing, theatre, and so on
—witness to the importance of the body in expressing the person.

Paul’s picture of the human body is not meant to be scientific. 1 Corinthians is not a biology

textbook. Still, this simple passage reflects the whole truth about the body—its place in God’s
creation and its redemption in Christ.

Paul holds before our eyes the human body in all its truth and glory. Because of its divine creation

and redemption, the body is worthy of honor. At the same time, this body belongs to sinful men and
women. When Paul writes of its “unpresentable parts,” we remember the shame experienced by the
first human beings as a result of sin. That shame reminds us of our original innocence.

The sexual parts of the body are not unpresentable because of any dishonor. They are only

unpresentable because of shame and lust—the fruits of sin.

At the same time, shame has a positive aspect, encouraging respect for the body. “The parts that

we think are less honorable we treat with special honor. And the parts that are unpresentable are
treated with special modesty.” Though shame was a result of sin, it can help us overcome sin through
self-control.

Before sin, Adam and Eve didn’t experience any part of the body as “weak” or unpresentable.

They were naked and felt no shame. This harmony was part of God’s original plan for the body.

The disorder we feel in our bodies is a result of sin. Where sin causes discord, Paul urges us to

restore order. How? By controlling our bodies with holiness and honor. Harmony in the body springs
from harmony in the heart.

Purity of heart allowed Adam and Eve to enjoy each other in fullness and simplicity. With sin

came shame and lust. But hope is not lost. Through Christ’s redemptive power, the heart can gradually
gain victory over lust. Victory is not only possible—it is necessary. This is the only path to purity.

Bought with a Price

As we’ve seen in Paul’s letters, purity is both negative and positive—it fights lust and honors the
body. Purity is rooted in respect for the person. It is a fruit of the Spirit—an expression of life in
Christ. Seen in this light, purity is not simply a virtue that can be learned. It is a gift.

Paul refers to sexual sins as “sin against the body.” By dishonoring the body, these sins violate the

dignity of the person. “Flee from sexual immorality,” Paul warns the Corinthians. “All other sins a man
commits are outside of his body, but he who sins sexually sins against his own body” (1 Cor. 6:18).

But Paul goes further. “Do you not know that your body is a temple of the Holy Spirit, who is in

you, whom you have received from God?” (1 Cor. 6:19). The body is not only honorable because of
the human person’s dignity. It is also the temple of the Holy Spirit.

Paul concludes, saying, “You are not your own; you were bought with a price. Therefore honor

God with your body” (1 Cor. 6:19–20).

How does the body become God’s temple? Through the reality of Christ’s redemptive work. For

Paul, the redemption is not just an article of faith—it is a life-giving, life-transforming power. When
the Word became flesh, the human body was brought into the life of the Trinity. Christ imprinted a new
dignity on the body of every man and woman.

With new dignity comes a new obligation. Paul puts it eloquently: “You were bought with a

price.” The fruit of redemption is the Holy Spirit, who dwells within the body as a temple. The Spirit
is a sanctifying gift of God. And by accepting the Spirit, the Christian receives himself again as a gift.
He becomes who he was meant to be.

The Spirit binds us to God. Paul exhorts us to be aware of the gift and its obligations. “The body

is not meant for sexual immorality, but for the Lord, and the Lord for the body” (1 Cor. 6:13). This
verse reveals what Christ’s incarnation means for every believer. By assuming a human body, God
gave every human body supernatural importance. This entails a new measure of holiness for the body.
In and through Christ, every Christian must control his body in holiness and honor.

Because of the body’s immense importance, Paul describes sexual sin in drastic terms:

Do you not know that your bodies are members of Christ himself? Shall I then take the members of Christ and unite

them with a prostitute? Never! Do you not know that he who unites himself with a prostitute is one with her in body?

For it is said, “The two will become one flesh.” But he who unites himself with the Lord is one with him in spirit. (1

Cor. 6:15–17)

According to Paul, purity is an essential aspect of life by the Spirit. It is a sign of the redemption

of the body, which began with Christ’s incarnation.

Purity and Love

In Paul’s letters, we see the organic link between purity and love. On the surface, purity means
abstaining from immorality. But on a deeper level, purity is an experience of the love inscribed by
God on the whole human person. Purity is reverence for the image of God in the body.

Together, these two aspects of purity—self-control and reverence—bring about a fullness in our

relationships with others, by which God is glorified. Purity sees the glory of God revealed in the body,
shining forth in its masculinity and femininity. Where there is purity, there is trust and openness
between persons. This is the only foundation for a communion of persons.

“Blessed are the pure in heart, for they will see God” (Mt. 5:8). Purity sees through the eyes of

God, who called all of creation “very good.” This is why Paul writes, “To the pure all things are pure,
but to those who are corrupted and do not believe, nothing is pure” (Titus 1:15).

Purity is both a virtue and a gift. The virtue of self-control prepares our hearts to receive the gift,

which is the sight of God. The gift, in turn, strengthens the virtue, enabling us to enjoy the beautiful
fruits of a pure life in the Spirit.

Purity and Joy

We began our reflections on the theology of the body with Christ’s words to the Pharisees: “Moses
permitted you to divorce your wives because your hearts were hard. But it was not this way from the
beginning” (Mt. 19:8). Going back to the time of original innocence, we saw how the full truth about
man is revealed in Eden. By creating man in the image of God, precisely as male and female, God
inscribed his love in the human body. Our complementary bodies, masculine and feminine, carry the
sign of the gift.

In our present reflections, taking up Jesus’ teaching on lust and Paul’s doctrine of purity, we

considered the situation of man after the Fall. We examined the fundamental truth about man—his
creation as male and female—in light of the sinful state in which we now live. We saw why Christ
defined lust as “adultery in the heart,” and what relevance this has for our lives today.

What do Christ’s words demand of us? That we overcome lust and seek purity. Turning to Paul’s

letters, we learned how this is accomplished—in living by the Spirit.

In the Sermon on the Mount, as in his exchange with the Pharisees, Jesus directs our attention back

to the state of original innocence. But Jesus’ words are realistic. He doesn’t tell us to return to the
state of innocence—that is impossible. Instead, he urges us to acquire purity of heart. How is this
possible for sinful men? By opening our hearts to the Spirit, who actualizes within each Christian the
redemption of the body won by Christ.

Purity is not just abstaining from lust, but appreciating the dignity of the body. When the heart is

dominated by lust, our outlook is so distorted that even our glance is sinful. With purity of heart, we
come to see other persons in light of the original, nuptial meaning of the body—created masculine and
feminine as a gift for each other and a sign of God’s love. This is a truth that sets us free.

When purity is gained, we are free to experience the body—both our own and those of others—in

all its fullness and joy. Through the gift of the Spirit, and by controlling our bodies in holiness and
honor, we receive the gift of ourselves. Only then can we become a true gift for another person.

An Education in Being Human

The words of Jesus—concerning the beginning and the heart—reveal a particular understanding of
what it means to be human. This “theology of the body” provides a standard for all persons at all
times. Scripture sets the goal before our eyes, motivates us to strive for it, and tells us how to get
there.

The Creator gives us all a task: to declare, through the body, the dignity of the person. The body

is a challenge. It bears the sign of the gift. Our task is to fulfill that sign by truly becoming a gift.

The theology of the body is the most suitable education in being human. In modern times, science

has taught us a great deal about the workings of the body. But it cannot tell us anything about the body
as a manifestation of the human spirit, a sign of the person. By ignoring the spirit, or denying its
existence, science treats the body as an object to be manipulated. This aggravates the rupture brought
on by the Fall, alienating body from spirit.

What is needed is an integrated view of man as a spiritual, embodied being. For that, we must turn

to Scripture. The theology of the body is a “spirituality of the body,” leading us, through spiritual
maturity, to a richer experience of the body. As a man or woman matures spiritually, his or her body
becomes more clearly what it was meant to be—a sign of the person, an expression of the spirit.

Lust doesn’t reveal the body—it obscures it. Similarly, science, when it reduces the body to a

object, only clouds our understanding. The depersonalizing effects of reductionist science are evident
throughout the modern world. Only when it is accompanied by spiritual maturity can biological
knowledge of the body point towards its true meaning.

This is why we should prudently consider the teachings of the Church about the human body. In

statements such as “The Dignity of Marriage and family” (Gaudium et Spes, part II, chapter 1) and the
encyclical Humanae Vitae, the Church seeks to apply the timeless words of Christ to the here and
now. To be properly understood, these documents cannot be considered apart from Scripture or the
Gospel. They must be read in light of a “total vision of man,” which is what the theology of the body
provides.

Today, the Church continues to speak out against divorce, polygamy, lust, and the mistreatment of

women. In doing so, the Church echoes Christ’s teachings on the sanctity of marriage and purity of
heart, calling all to faithfulness.

The Role of Culture

As we have seen, many moral problems arise from reducing the body to an object, instead of
reverencing it as a sign of the person. But what happens when the body becomes a subject of art?

The human body is a perennial subject of culture. Artists give expression to their experiences of

the body, and others, in turn, encounter the body through their art. Looking at a painting of a nude, for
example, the viewer is aware of observing a body—not just paint on a canvas. For that reason,
Christ’s words about gazing lustfully have continued relevance within the sphere of culture.

If purity of heart should guide how we relate to living bodies, it should also guide how we relate

to depictions of the body—whether spoken or written, painted or sculpted, portrayed on stage or
projected on a movie screen. We must pursue purity not only in our interactions with other people, but
also in our interactions with works of art.

In the performance arts, such as theatre and ballet, the body becomes a work of art in itself. In the

plastic arts, including sculpture and painting, the body is a model for representation. Film and
photography lie somewhere in-between.

Something different takes place in each medium, even though the subject (the body) is the same.

In painting and sculpture, the body is a model, which is then transformed by the artist’s vision. Film
and photography, on the other hand, reproduce the actual form of a living person. This is an important
distinction to make when considering ethical questions in art. These questions are complicated further
by modern mass media techniques, which broadcast anonymous images of the body to a vast
audience.

If the theology of the body is a true education in being human, how can we foster a cultural

climate in which it will flourish? What is the role of art in encouraging purity of heart? Our closing
reflections will consider these questions.

The Veil of Shame

The naked human body, in its full masculinity and femininity, has the meaning of a gift from person to
person. This is the basis of all ethical guidelines regarding nakedness. The dignity of the person must
always be upheld.

In the husband/wife relationship, the nude body achieves this nuptial meaning through the sincere

gift of self. But in art, the nude body takes on a different meaning. First, it becomes a model for the
artist; then, once the art is complete, the body becomes a subject for the viewer.

To an extent, objectifying the body is necessary in art. This raises a number of problems, which

multiply as the motives of artists and viewers are brought into question. These problems do not mean
that the nude human body is an inappropriate subject for art—only that this is a complicated moral
issue, not simply a matter of artistic taste.

When sin entered the world, there arose, along with shame, a need for bodily privacy—especially

between the sexes. Among sinful human beings, sexual privacy shields the gift from gaze of lust. We
don’t just wear clothing to protect ourselves from the weather, but to guard our dignity. Even in cases
where undressing is necessary—such as a medical examination—human beings tend to have difficulty
overcoming shame.

When the boundary of shame is crossed, nakedness becomes an insult. In the Nazi concentration

camps, forced nakedness was used to depersonalize victims and strip them of their dignity. An
analogous assault on the person occurs in pornography.

In art, as in life, the right to privacy must be respected in order to preserve the gift-giving meaning

of the body.

The Naked Truth

When the gift-giving meaning of the body is obscured, distorted, or misrepresented, art becomes a lie.
This is what happens in pornography. The body—which was created to be a free gift from one person
to another—is depersonalized and reduced to an object for lust.

This concern for human dignity goes against the grain of “naturalism” in art. The so-called

naturalists demand the right to reproduce “everything that is human.” What others call pornography,
they defend as a realistic depiction of humanity.

But in the end, it is precisely this—the whole truth about man—that is lost when privacy is

violated and the body is reduced to an object for lust. In order to speak of true realism in art, the full
truth about man as created in the image of God must be considered.

In this respect, the principles governing interpersonal relations still apply within the realm of art.

The naked human body has a “language.” It expresses the spirit. When given in trust and love, the
body is the basis of a communion of persons. Because the naked human body has such importance, it
must be depicted with great care to preserve its meaning in art.

Only within certain boundaries can the truth about the body be preserved. In film, photography,

and mass media, there is a dangerous tendency to separate the body from the person. Reproduced on
paper or on screen, the naked body can cease to communicate the person. It often becomes, instead, an
anonymous object.

Because the glory and beauty of the human body is at stake, we cannot remain indifferent to

culture. We do not oppose pornography out of a narrow, puritanical idea of morality. Nor do we
oppose it out of a Manichaean fear or hatred of the body, as is often asserted. The exact opposite is
true. We oppose pornography out of respect for the dignity of the body.

Building a Culture of Purity

The nude body has always been—and will always be—a favorite subject for artists, from painters to
poets. In Scripture, the nude body is a central subject of the Song of Songs. For Christians, if there is
any question whether the naked body is a fit subject for art, the Song of Songs should put it to rest.

So the question is not whether the body should be described, but how. In the plastic arts—

painting, drawing, sculpture—the artist doesn’t simply reproduce the model. He expresses his artistic
idea about the subject. This gives form to his interior values. In order to give creative justice to the
full truth of the body, an artist should be aware of that truth. In other words, an artist should be pure of
heart.

Great art doesn’t just depict the body’s surface. Through the nude form, it leads the viewer to

glimpse the human spirit. Contemplating the human body in art, we are invited to ponder the dignity
and beauty of man, in the full truth of masculinity and femininity.

When the nude body is depicted with dignity—in classical Greek sculpture, for example—the

viewer isn’t drawn to “look lustfully.” Instead, the nuptial meaning of the body is revealed in a way
that inspires awe for its God-given glory.

There are also artistic representations of the body (and, more often, photographic reproductions)

that offend human dignity. This is not the fault of the subject—the body is entirely honorable—but the
way in which it is depicted. To reduce the body to an object for the enjoyment of lust denigrates its
true value.

Artistic morality involves not just the artist, but the recipient of the work—the viewer, reader, or

listener. Just as the responsible artist seeks to portray the human person in the fullness of truth, the
responsible recipient strives to appreciate the nuptial meaning of the body depicted in the work. He is
not a mere consumer of sensual impressions, but an active seeker of the truth.

In Humanae Vitae, Pope Paul VI emphasized “the need to create an atmosphere favorable to

education in chastity.” The creation of such an atmosphere depends on everyone—both the builders
and recipients of culture.

We should always live in a way that affirms the dignity of the body. This applies to all areas of

life—personal, social, and cultural. The affirmation of the body is essential for fostering a healthy
culture, one that leads the heart towards goodness, beauty, and truth.

III.

HEAVEN AND EARTH

Reflections on Resurrection

This very body, which is corruptible and

vulnerable to decay, will rise again incorruptible.

For God, who made the body from the dust of

the earth, has the power to raise it up again

after it has returned to the earth.

—

OHN

AMASCUS

The Body’s Destiny

Our reflections on the human body began with creation. Looking back to the state of original
innocence in Eden, we saw God’s plan for the body and marriage. Next, we considered the body as we
experience it, after sin entered the world. We saw how Christ calls us—and the Holy Spirit empowers
us—to embrace purity in a fallen world.

Now it is time to look ahead. What is the body’s ultimate destiny?
The Sadducees, a Jewish sect active in the time of Christ, taught that the soul died with the body.

They held to a literal interpretation of the Old Testament, which didn’t explicitly
mention life after death. Thus, they concluded, “there is no resurrection” (Mt. 22:23).

One day, the Sadducees challenged Jesus to accept their belief:

“Teacher,” they said, “Moses told us that if a man dies without having children, his brother must marry the widow and

have children for him. Now there were seven brothers among us. The first one married and died, and since he had no

children, he left his wife to his brother. The same thing happened to the second and third brother, right on down to the

seventh. Finally, the woman died. Now then, at the resurrection, whose wife will she be of the seven, since all of them

were married to her?” (Mt. 22:24–28)

The Sadducees attempted to entrap Jesus with their clever story of the seven brothers. But Christ did
not debate their logic on a human level. Instead, he answered out of God’s wisdom:

“You are in error because you do not know the Scriptures or the power of God. At the resurrection people will neither

marry nor be given in marriage; they will be like the angels in heaven. But about the resurrection of the dead—have you

not read what God said to you, ‘I am the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob’? He is not the God of

the dead but of the living.” (Mt. 22:29–32)

This answer opens a whole new perspective on the body. Like his statements on “the beginning” (Mt.
19:3–9) and “adultery in the heart” (Mt. 5:27–28), this statement about the resurrection is foundational
to the theology of the body.

Christ’s exchange with the Sadducees is so important that Matthew, Mark, and Luke all included it

in their Gospels. In Mark’s account, Jesus emphasizes its importance by exclaiming to the Sadducees,
“You are badly mistaken!” (Mk. 12:27) The truth of the resurrection is a vital one; if we do not know
our destiny, we cannot know how to live.

The Power of God

Jesus’ response to the Sadducees is recorded in slightly different form in Matthew 22:29–32, Mark
12:24–27, and Luke 20:34–38. Here is Luke’s version:

Jesus replied, “The people of this age marry and are given in marriage. But those who are considered worthy of taking

part in that age and in the resurrection from the dead will neither marry nor be given in marriage, and they can no

longer die; for they are like angels. They are God’s children, since they are children of the resurrection. In the account

of the bush, even Moses showed that the dead rise, for he calls the Lord ‘the God of Abraham, and the God of Isaac,

and the God of Jacob.’ He is not the God of the dead, but of the living, for to him all are alive.” (Lk. 20:34–38)

In all three Gospel accounts, Jesus affirms the truth of the resurrection based on the Scriptures and

“the power of God.” The Sadducees were very learned in the Scriptures, but they were bound to a
strictly literal interpretation. To read the Bible correctly, Jesus tells us, we cannot simply look at the
words—we must believe in the power of God. The Giver of Life is not bound by death. God’s
declaration in Exodus—“I am the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob”—can be
fully understood only if we open our minds to the belief that there is life beyond death.

God gives life to those who live for him. From the standpoint of human history, Abraham, Isaac,

and Jacob are long dead; but they are alive in God.

God is the inexhaustible source of life. With sin, death entered the world (Gen. 3:19), and man lost

access the immortality symbolized by the Tree of Life (Gen. 3:22). But the living God made a
covenant with his people (in the Old Testament, Abraham, Moses, and Israel; in the New Testament,
the Church). Through his covenant of love, God continues to offer life to sinful human beings.

Jesus came to bear witness to the true God, who is not the God of the Sadducees’ constricted

interpretations, but the God of boundless life. For now, Jesus showed the Sadducees how the
Scriptures supported the resurrection of the dead. But the time would come when Christ would give a
more dramatic demonstration of God’s power over death.

Christ himself is God’s ultimate word on the resurrection. Through the cross, Christ restored

humanity’s access to the Tree of Life—the immortality that was planned for us from the beginning.

Like the Angels

In his reply to the Sadducees, Jesus did not just defend the resurrection by quoting Scripture. He went
beyond what was written in the Old Testament, revealing a key element of the theology of the body:
“At the resurrection people will neither marry nor be given in marriage” (Mt. 22:30).

In the resurrection, when human beings regain their bodies in the fullness of “the image and

likeness of God” (Gen. 1:26), marriage will cease to exist. Marriage, in the earthly sense, is not part of
the body’s ultimate destiny. In the age to come, marriage and procreation lose their reason for being.

The age to come, the kingdom of God, is the eternal homeland of mankind. “Our citizenship is in

heaven,” St. Paul writes (Phil. 3:20). The Father has prepared a place for his children in his own home
(Jn. 14:2).

In the resurrection, Jesus tells us, the soul will be reunited with the body. More than this, the body

will participate in a completely new state of human life. This is confirmed by Christ’s own bodily
resurrection (Matthew 28; Luke 24; John 20–21). As Paul writes:

We were buried with Christ Jesus through baptism into death in order that, just as Christ was raised from the dead

through the glory of the Father, we too may live a new life. If we have been united with him like this in his death, we

will certainly also be united with him in his resurrection. (Rom. 6:4–5)

Jesus’ words, “people will neither marry nor be given in marriage,” do not mean that our bodies

will be androgynous in the kingdom of Heaven. But while our earthly bodies were designed for sexual
union (Gen. 2:24) and blessed with fertility (Gen. 1:28), masculinity and femininity take on a different
meaning in the resurrection.

After saying that there will be no marriage in the resurrection, Jesus adds, “They will be like the

angels in heaven” (Mt. 22:30). This does not mean that human beings will become pure spirit—
disembodied beings like the angels. If this were the case, it would be meaningless to speak of a
resurrection at all. The resurrection means the restoring of life to the body, which was subjected to
death in its earthly phase.

Plato taught that, at death, the soul finds happiness by being freed from the “prison” of the body.

But according to Christ, the body is not just a temporary container for the soul. (In this, Plato’s student
Aristotle was closer to the Christian view.) A human being is a unity of soul and body, and the
resurrection restores life to both through a perfect integration of both.

While the resurrection does not mean disembodiment, Christ reveals that it does involve a

“spiritualization” of the body. The Psalmist said that man was created “a little lower than the angels”
(Ps. 8:5). In the resurrection, God will raise man higher— “they will be like the angels.” The body
will not be lost; it will be wholly unified with the spirit in a new way, even beyond what Adam and
Eve experienced in the beginning.

Perfecting the Person

Sin disrupted the original harmony of body and spirit. St. Paul expresses this memorably in his Letter
to the Romans:

When I want to do good, evil is right there with me. For in my inner being I delight in God’s law; but I see another law

at work in the members of my body, waging war against the law of my mind and making me a prisoner of the law of sin

at work within my members. What a wretched man I am! Who will rescue me from this body of death? (Rom. 7:19–

24)

But in the resurrection, the body will be free from this “law of sin.” Body and spirit will be in perfect
harmony.

Paul rejects the ancient Greek dichotomy between body and soul (found, for example, in Plato).

Instead, he speaks of man as a composite of body, spirit, and soul, with no distinct boundaries among
the three. According to Paul, both body and soul are capable of being “spiritual.” Our earthly bodies
are heavy with sin. But in the age to come, the body will be filled with light, entirely permeated by the
spirit.

Can the body be illumined even while we are here on earth? Yes, to the extent that we mature

spiritually. But in this life, there will always be a struggle—an opposition between body and spirit that
we must overcome. In the age to come, this opposition will be completely eliminated.

The law of sin

will be vanquished from the body, and our spiritualization will be perfected.

This spiritualization is not dehumanizing. It is the opposition between body and spirit that limits

our human potential. The resurrected body will not be less human, but more.

Since God created the human being as a unity of body and soul, human perfection could never

involve an opposition between them. Human perfection means a deep harmony between body and
soul. And we must not conceive of this harmony as a victory of spirit over body, but as a perfect
participation of the body in the mystery of the spirit.

In Heaven, human beings will not only be spiritualized—they will be divinized. As Jesus says in

Luke 20:36, “They are God’s children, since they are children of the resurrection.” They are filled
completely with God’s own life.

In the world to come, the human will be fully permeated by the divine. Humanity will reach a

fullness of life immeasurably beyond what could be experienced on earth. Divinization is an entirely
new state for the body—humanity in perfect union with God, intimately connected to the Trinity in a
perfect communion of persons. This intimacy will not efface the personality of individual human
beings. In the resurrection, we will not be less ourselves, but more fully ourselves. We were created
for the fully realized humanity that comes from perfect communion with God.

When Christ says that those who participate in the resurrection “will neither marry nor be given in

marriage,” he doesn’t simply speak of the end of earthly life—he reveals a new layer of meaning in
the body.

In our previous reflections, we focused on the “nuptial meaning of the body.” Our complementary

bodies, male and female, allow spouses to give themselves fully to each other in marriage. But, as
Christ reveals, we are ultimately made for union with God. Not just our souls, but our bodies, too, are
ultimately destined for communion with him. This adds new depth to the body’s nuptial meaning.

Could it be that the ultimate meaning of our sexual embodiment is found in our virgin union with

God? To answer this question, we must try to penetrate more deeply into the essence of the vision of
God that awaits us. In the life to come, God will give himself to humanity in the most personal way.
He will enable us to see him as he is, revealing the mystery that has been hidden in God from eternity.
In this meeting, we will rediscover—in a new dimension—the same nuptial meaning of the body.

A Gift for God

In the resurrection, we will see God face to face. Our heavenly union with God will be nourished by
our “sight” of that most perfect union, the Holy Trinity—most perfect because it is a communion of
purely divine Persons.

“Those who are considered worthy of taking part in that age and in the resurrection from the dead

will neither marry nor be given in marriage” (Lk. 20:35). In the resurrection, God will give himself to
his people in a way that exceeds any earthly experience of his grace. The only appropriate response to
this overwhelming gift is to give ourselves completely to him. This blissful union between God and
man will be at once spousal and virginal.

Earthly marriage is a sign of our future union with God. In the age to come, there will be no more

need for signs and sacraments—we will be fully immersed in God’s grace. In this state, bodily
virginity express the fulfillment of the nuptial meaning of the body, because our union will be with
God himself.

While focusing our whole attention on God, we will also discover the entire cosmos anew in him.

We will rediscover our fellow human beings—and even ourselves—within the infinite life of the
Trinity. Thus, we will experience a communion of persons far beyond what is possible on earth. This
is what we affirm when we profess faith in “the communion of the saints.”

In the new life, we will experience both the perfect individuality and the perfect communion of

persons. Our complete concentration on God will not negate human community; it will perfect it.

This

communion of all with one another and with God was foreshadowed in the communion of man and
woman from the beginning. So we speak of the communion that awaits us as the definitive fulfillment
of the nuptial meaning of the body and the perfect realization of God’s trinitarian love in the hearts of
his creatures.

The Revelation of the Body

In his dispute with the Pharisees over divorce (Mt. 19:3–9), Christ points back to the original meaning
of our sexual embodiment. In his words on adultery in the Sermon on the Mount (Mt. 5:27–28), he
calls and empowers us, as sinful human beings, to embrace purity of heart. In his exchange with the
Sadducees over the resurrection, he points forward to our ultimate destiny.

In this way, Christ’s teaching not only reaches us where we are, as sinful human beings—it extends

beyond this present life in two directions, backward and forward. We are not completely cut off from
our beginning, the state of original innocence, or our destination, eternal life. First, we can regain a
measure of our original glory through Christ’s redeeming power. Second, our baptism into Christ’s
death makes us partakers of the “new life” of the resurrection, to some extent, even in this life (Rom.
6:4–5).

Taken together, Christ’s teachings on the three dimensions of human existence—original,

historical, and eschatological—comprise a total vision of man, a complete “revelation of the body.”

In the beginning God “made them male and female” and said that “the two will become one flesh.”

The meaning of our complementary bodies, masculine and feminine, was revealed
in marriage and procreation. But in the world to come, Jesus says there will be neither marriage nor
procreation. While revealing that there is no human marriage in heaven, Jesus does not say that people
will lose their sexuality. He does not say that we will be androgynous in heaven.

The fundamental meaning of the body—its nuptial significance—is that human beings are created

to form a communion of persons. On earth, this meaning is expressed through marriage and
procreation. But marriage is not an end in itself. The ultimate expression of the nuptial meaning of the
body is the life of the resurrection, where there is perfect communion with God and every other
person. By participating in the life of the divine communion of Persons—the Trinity—the human body
will fully express the image and likeness of God.

The life of the resurrection will be an entirely new experience—different even from Adam and

Eve’s experience before the Fall. But it will not be entirely disconnected from our earthly life—it will
not be a disembodied or sexless (androgynous) existence. Instead, the resurrection will be the
fulfillment of the promise we now carry within our bodies.

When our bodies are glorified, they will become what God intended them to be from the beginning

—visible signs of the person, means of communication between persons, and tangible expressions of
selfless love. The true meaning of the body—which has been weighed down and constricted by sin—
will be revealed anew. It will be revealed in simplicity and splendor, and every person who partakes in
the life of heaven will fully realize the nuptial meaning of the body, as they join in the great
communion of saints.

It is impossible for us to imagine exactly what this heavenly life will be like. But, with the help of

Christ’s words, we can begin to see its foundations—the resurrection of the body, eternal life, and the
communion of saints.

“Faith is being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see” (Heb. 11:1). Though

we cannot see the future life, we can trust Christ’s words and, above all, his own triumph over death.
This is why, when we recite the Nicene Creed, we boldly proclaim our faith in “the resurrection of the
dead and the life of the world to come.”

Resurrection and Redemption

Jesus argued for the resurrection based on the Old Testament Scriptures and the power of God, but his
ultimate testimony was his own resurrection. In his risen body, he appeared first to the women at the
tomb, then to the apostles, and later to others—including Saul of Tarsus, a persecutor of Christians.
After his conversion, Saul became Paul, apostle to the Gentiles.

Because of his direct experience of the risen Christ, the resurrection became a centerpiece of

Paul’s teaching. The resurrection is the foundation of Christian belief, Paul argues. “If there is no
resurrection of the dead, then not even Christ has been raised. And if Christ has not been raised, our
preaching is useless and so is your faith” (1 Cor. 15:13–14).

The resurrection of Christ fully confirms that God “is not the God of the dead, but of the living.”

It is the God of Life’s reply to death. Christ’s resurrection proclaims God’s victory over death—it
points to the end of history, when everything will return to the Father. When sin is vanquished, death
will go with it. “The last enemy to be destroyed is death” (1 Cor. 15:26).

In his First Letter to the Corinthians, Paul builds on Jesus’ words in the Gospels, offering a

profound meditation on the resurrection. He is addressing those who claim to be Christians but still
deny the resurrection of the body—perhaps because they are overwhelmed by a sense of their own
fallenness. Paul agrees that the body, as we experience it, is weighed down by sin, but he uses this to
argue for the resurrection:

But someone may ask, ‘How are the dead raised? With what kind of body will they come?’ How foolish!

What you sow does not come to life until it dies. . . . So it will be with the resurrection of the dead. The body

that is sown is perishable, it is raised imperishable; it is sown in dishonor, it is raised in glory; it is sown in

weakness, it is raised in power; it is sown a natural body, it is raised a spiritual body. (1 Cor. 15:35–36; 42–

46)

These words were originally addressed to the church at Corinth, but they are equally relevant to

us today. Paul invites us to follow in his footsteps, to experience the risen Christ.

Paul’s teaching on the resurrection is a synthesis of all that we’ve discussed. He begins with

God’s original intent for man, takes into account sin and the Fall, and points ahead to our ultimate
destiny:

If there is a natural body, there is also a spiritual body. So it is written: ‘The first man Adam became a living being’; the

last Adam [Christ], a life-giving spirit. The spiritual did not come first, but the natural, and after that the spiritual. The

first man was of the dust of the earth, the second man from heaven. As was the earthly man, so are those who are of the

earth; and as is the man from heaven, so also are those who are of heaven. And just as we have borne the likeness of the

earthly man, so shall we bear the likeness of the man from heaven. (1 Cor. 15:44–49)

Paul’s synthesis is rooted in a total view of humanity, from creation to the fullness of redemption.

According to Genesis, the creation of man is an enlivening of matter by spirit. Also according to
Genesis, the body became subject to corruption and death because of the Fall. This is why Paul calls
our fallen bodies perishable, dishonorable, and weak. Elsewhere, Paul says that our bodies are in

“bondage to decay” (Rom. 8:21). Even so, the body contains and reveals hope, like the hope of a
woman in labor awaiting the promise of new life.

Christ’s resurrection confirms the promise of the redemption of the body. With Paul, we can look

forward to the day when “the creation itself will be liberated from its bondage to decay and brought
into the glorious freedom of the children of God” (Rom. 8:21). Until then, “we wait eagerly for our
adoption as sons, the resurrection of our bodies” (Rom. 8:23).

Redemption is the way to resurrection. The coming resurrection will complete our redemption in

Christ.

The Resurrected Body

According to Paul, the human body in the life to come will be imperishable, glorious, full of power,
and spiritual. Paul’s vision of the resurrected body comes from his firsthand experience of the risen,
glorified Christ. The resurrection is not just about eternal life—it is a revelation of the ultimate
destiny of man in all the fullness of his personhood.

By contrasting the first man, Adam, with the “second Adam,” Jesus, Paul shows the two poles

between which we find ourselves—between creation and the fullness of redemption. In our daily lives,
we experience the tension between these two poles. We are children of Adam by nature, yet we are
called to become children of Christ by grace. “Just as we have borne the likeness of the earthly man,
so shall we bear the likeness of the man from heaven.”

The “man of heaven”—the man of the resurrection, whose model is Christ—is not the negation of

the natural man (represented by Adam), but his fulfillment. The resurrection will complete and confirm
the human person, as created in the image and likeness of God. Our human nature carries the potential
to partake of the divine nature. The “earthly man,” mired in sin, has the potential to share in Christ’s
perfect humanity.

For all our failings, human beings have retained an interior desire for glory. Through Christ, this

aspiration can be realized. What was sown in corruption and weakness can be raised in power and
glory.

Previously, we spoke of the resurrection as the fulfillment of the nuptial meaning of the body in

and through our perfect communion with God and the saints. Paul’s discussion of the resurrection
seems to focus more on the individual person and the relationship of body and soul.

The resurrection, as described by Paul, is a future event. But, at the same time, its effects can be

experienced in this life. Even now, we are called to bear the image of Christ, the risen one. Jesus’
resurrection is already a reality, pushing the world toward its final transformation.

The Spiritualization of the Body

Paul describes an interior transformation of man from “earthly” to “spiritual.” It is important to note
that Paul takes no account of the Manichean division between soul and body. Rejecting the notion that
the body is earthly and the soul is spiritual, Paul insists that both body and soul are capable of being
spiritual.

A human body sown in earthly soil is weak and perishable. (Paul’s metaphor corresponds to the

agricultural terms we use to speak of reproduction, such as semen—meaning “seed”—and
fertilization.) In the future resurrection, we will inherit a spiritual body from Christ. The
spiritualization of the body will be the source of its power and immortality.

This theme—the spiritualization of the body—originates in Genesis. Before the Fall, body and

spirit were united in harmony. Sin caused a rupture—an opposition between the earthly and the
spiritual. But in the future resurrection, Paul says, this rupture will be healed.

The resurrection, however, should not be understood as a return to the state of original innocence,

apart from the knowledge of good and evil. Instead, the resurrection will constitute a new fullness of
humanity that presupposes the whole drama of our creation and subsequent Fall.

In our fallen condition, according to Paul, the earthly body rules over the spiritual, limiting our

ability to act in truth and love. We are attracted by evil and have to struggle against temptation. But in
the resurrection, the Holy Spirit will entirely permeate the body, and spirituality will redeem
sensuality. The spiritualization of the body will effect a harmony of body and spirit in perfect truth
and freedom. The senses will achieve perfect sensitivity and union with the human spirit.

Spiritualization is perfected in the resurrection, but it is not limited to it. Even now, we are

“earthly” to the extent that we resist God; and we are “spiritual” to the extent that we live by his
Spirit. Elsewhere, Paul writes:

The acts of the sinful nature are obvious: sexual immorality, impurity, and debauchery; idolatry and witchcraft; hatred,

discord, jealousy, fits of rage, selfish ambition, dissensions, factions, and envy; drunkenness, orgies, and the like. . . .

But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control.

(Gal. 5:19–22)

Paul’s entire vision of the Christian life—who we are and how we are to live—is centered on the risen
Christ, through whom we receive the Holy Spirit.

The truth of the resurrection is of fundamental significance for the theology of the body. It is vital

to our Christian understanding of both marriage and celibacy. In our further reflections, we will focus
on the latter—celibacy for the kingdom of Heaven.

The Call to Celibacy

The call to give one’s self exclusively to God is rooted in the Gospel. To understand the celibate
vocation, we must consider Christ’s words about the resurrection: “At the resurrection people will
neither marry nor be given in marriage; they will be like the angels in heaven” (Mt. 22:30).

These words describe a state of life without marriage, where men and women find total fulfillment

in communion with God and all the saints. Even without marriage, a person can experience the self-
giving love that our bodies were created to give and receive. This way of life is not limited to heaven.
It also echoes in the call to consecrated virginity, or celibacy for the kingdom, here on earth. Already,
some anticipate what we will all share in the resurrection.

In his reply to the Sadducees, Jesus only mentions celibacy in terms of the resurrection. For

Christ’s teaching on celibacy in this life, we need to return to his earlier dispute with the Pharisees
about divorce. It is significant that Christ introduces the celibate vocation in the context of a
discussion about marriage.

In that exchange, Jesus says, “I tell you that anyone who divorces his wife, except for marital

unfaithfulness, and marries another commits adultery.” Even his disciples are challenged by this
statement, replying, “If this is the situation between a husband and wife, it is better not to marry.”

Jesus doesn’t continue along the disciples’ line of reasoning. He doesn’t say whether marriage or

singleness is preferable. Instead, Jesus describes the call to celibacy:

Not everyone can accept this word, but only those to whom it has been given. For some are eunuchs because they

were born that way; others were made that way by men; and others have renounced marriage for the kingdom of

heaven. The one who can accept this should accept it. (Mt. 19:9–12)

By sidestepping the disciples’ challenge, Christ refuses to put celibacy at odds with marriage. The call
to celibacy does not arise from a negative view of marriage. Christ had already established the
fundamental value of marriage by pointing to “the beginning.” Here, he adds that there is also value
connected with the free choice to forego marriage “for the sake of the kingdom.” This is not a
command for all Christians, but a gift for those to whom it has been given.

The celibate vocation, then, requires two things: a special grace from God, and the free

acceptance of that grace on our part. Those who accept that grace orient themselves in a particular
way toward the future resurrection when men and women do not marry. Of course there is an essential
difference between the absence of marriage in the resurrection and the celibate vocation here on earth.
The absence of marriage in the resurrection is due to the fullness of communion that everyone will
experience with God and the saints. Marriage on earth is the normal path for Christians to prepare for
that communion to come. Celibacy for the kingdom, then, as an earthly vocation, is an exception to the
norm.

A Turning Point

In his words to the disciples about celibacy, Jesus mentions three categories of eunuchs. The first
group includes those born with physical defects, making procreation impossible. The second group
includes those who have been maimed. Eunuchs falling into these categories had no choice in the
matter. But in the third group, Jesus places those who made a voluntary decision based on a
supernatural calling.

This concept of voluntary celibacy must have been shocking to Jesus’ original listeners, who did

not uphold virginity as a good in itself. In the Old Testament tradition, marriage and procreation were
the norm. None of the Patriarchs practiced or encouraged celibacy. In fact, marriage and procreation
were central to the covenant between God and his chosen people. The Lord promised Abraham:

As for me, this is my covenant with you: You will be the father of many nations. . . . I will make you very fruitful; I will

make nations of you, and kings will come from you. I will establish my covenant as an everlasting covenant between

me and you and your descendants after you for the generations to come, to be your God and the God of your

descendants. (Gen. 17:4, 6–7)

Within the Jewish tradition, there was no precedent for this new way of life described by Christ.

(The Prophet Jeremiah was called to celibacy, but his was a unique case—he didn’t proclaim it as
something to be followed.) Eunuchs were seen as lesser people, and to remain unmarried or childless
was considered a curse.

Christ’s words mark a turning point. This is why, when speaking to his disciples about celibacy for

the first time, he makes a clear distinction between those who are eunuchs by nature or accident and
those who remain celibate by choice. The disciples would have never considered that a person might
choose virginity as a way of life and as a witness to the coming of God’s kingdom.

We have no record of the disciples’ immediate reaction, but they must have been deeply

impressed. The disciples internalized Christ’s words and passed them on to others. Christ’s teaching
was taken up by the Apostle Paul (see 1 Cor. 7), and the Apostle John, near the end of his life, wrote
of consecrated virgins as “first fruits to God and the Lamb” (Rev. 14:4).

In the generations since they were first spoken, Christ’s words have continued to bear fruit through

the lives of those called to celibacy.

Spiritual Fruitfulness

The man or woman who freely chooses celibacy for the kingdom is a sign of the world to come, where
God will be our “all in all” (1 Cor. 15:28). Such a person reveals that the body’s ultimate destiny is
total union with God. This virginal union is the absolute fulfillment of the nuptial meaning of the body.
In and through Christ, all the children of heaven—men and women—will be united in the communion
of saints.

Celibacy for the kingdom points to the reality of the world to come. It is a sign that the body is not

destined for the grave, but for resurrection. Christ himself made this choice. Those who follow him
along this path bear Christ’s image in a special way.

Right from the beginning, Christ’s life diverged from Old Testament assumptions about the body.

Marriage was a privileged state, and the Messiah was expected to be a descendent of David according
the flesh. How could virginity for the kingdom be understood in this context?

When the angel Gabriel told Mary that she would bear a son, she was astounded. “How can this

be,” she asked, “since I am a virgin?” (Lk. 1:34). Separately, the angel told Joseph, “What is
conceived in her is from the Holy Spirit” (Mt. 1:20). Mary and Joseph thus became the first witnesses
of a fruitfulness different from that of the flesh—spiritual fruitfulness.

The marriage of Mary and Joseph witnessed to both the communion of persons in marriage and the

meaning of celibacy for the kingdom. In turn, their virginal union served the perfect fruitfulness of the
Spirit. Within their marriage, the Incarnation of the Word was realized; the Son of God, of one essence
with the Father, was conceived and born of the Virgin Mary.

The life-giving union of the Trinity is the source of all spiritual fruitfulness. Mary’s divine

motherhood reveals this fruitfulness in a superabundant way. But the Spirit bears fruit in all those who
accept Christ and do his will, including those who answer the call to celibacy for the kingdom.

The vocation of celibacy was revealed only gradually. When Jesus spoke of it for the first time,

his disciples did not know of his virgin birth. They had only the example of Christ himself, who had
remained celibate for the kingdom. Later, when the story of Jesus’ birth became known and St. Paul
extolled the virtues of virginity, Christ’s followers came to understand that celibacy for the kingdom is
a way of attaining the supernatural fruitfulness of the Holy Spirit.

An Exceptional Vocation

As Christ revealed through his own example, the celibate life is an especially effective way of
furthering God’s kingdom. This truth—so unexpected in light of the Old Testament tradition—is of
vital significance to a Christian understanding of the body.

Jesus did not promote a celibacy that degrades marriage. He did not agree with the disciples’

statement, “If this is the situation between a husband and wife, it is better not to marry” (Mt. 19:10).
Instead, Jesus stressed the right motivation for celibacy. In order for virginity to be spiritually fruitful,
it must be freely chosen and directed toward the kingdom.

Effective celibacy springs from deep faith. Those who choose this path don’t just look forward to

the resurrected life; they participate in it now, in a special way. Celibacy for the kingdom is a sign of
the other world, bearing within itself the power of the redemption of the body. Whoever chooses this
celibacy wishes, as much as possible, to experience the redemption of the body here on earth. In so
choosing, they find a special likeness to Christ.

Following Christ and furthering his kingdom—these are the true motivations for choosing celibacy.

It is not a command for all, but an invitation for some. Jesus says, “The one who can accept this
should accept it” (Mt. 19:12). Since marriage remains the normal or ordinary vocation, celibacy will
always be an exceptional one.

Christ does not gloss over the difficulties of the celibate life. When men and women with normal

—and noble—human inclinations for marriage choose to forego marriage for the sake of the kingdom,
they will struggle. For this reason, a celibate person must continually renew the source of his or her
motivation.

Marriage and Celibacy

In his exchange with the Pharisees, Jesus referred to “the beginning,” bidding us to discover the
original beauty of marriage. This vocation comes from God and corresponds to humanity’s twofold
creation—as male and female—and the call to form a communion of persons. Immediately following
this exchange, Jesus revealed to his disciples a second vocation—celibacy for the kingdom.

In taking a stand against the Old Testament tradition, did Jesus contradict his earlier words on

marriage? Not at all. Instead, marriage and celibacy complement each other. Celibacy can only be
understood in light of marriage, and marriage in light of celibacy.

Those who are called to celibacy are not asked to deny their human nature. The celibate vocation

aims to fulfill every aspect of our humanity, including our sexuality, which is a call to communion in
God’s image. Sexually, men and women are created for communion with each other. The communion
of the sexes, however, points ultimately to man’s call for communion with God. Celibacy for the
kingdom is an invitation to embrace this relationship, standing alone before God. In this way, a person,
created in the image of God, can find complete fulfillment apart from human marriage.

While remaining fully masculine or feminine, the celibate person responds to the aloneness that

lies at the heart of each of us—which only God can fill. The call to exclusive, celibate
communion with God, when heard and answered by a particular person, is a gift for the kingdom.

In giving himself fully to God, the celibate person does not cut off his communion from other

human beings. If celibacy is truly to further the kingdom, it must be lived with respect for the
trinitarian image in man and the call to communion with God and others. As the celibate person gives
himself to others in love and service, his communion with them reaches a deeper level.

In a previous series of reflections, we considered Jesus’ words on lust and “adultery in the heart”

in the Sermon on the Mount. Within the human heart, the heritage of sin can only be overcome by the
power of the redemption. The celibate vocation does not entail a change in human nature. A person
who takes up the path of celibacy must still battle lust. A faithful life of celibacy—like a faithful
marriage—requires the redemptive power of Christ. Like everyone else, the celibate person must
submit his lusts to the power flowing from the redemption of the body.

Celibacy for the kingdom is a voluntary renouncement of marriage. This is a great sacrifice—not

only because of cultural pressures, but also because of the high value God placed on marriage from
the beginning. Since Christ’s teaching on celibacy immediately followed his words on the sacredness
of marriage, it is clear that the goodness of celibacy does not degrade marriage.

Complementary Vocations

Do Christ’s words, while not diminishing marriage, imply the superiority of celibacy? Certainly, he
says that it is an exceptional vocation, not the norm. And he revealed that it is of special importance
for the kingdom. The Apostle Paul develops this further, saying that those who choose marriage do
“well,” while those who choose celibacy do “even better” (1 Cor. 7:38).

Celibacy is a higher calling because its direct aim is the kingdom of heaven. But this “superiority”

in no way diminishes marriage. We must not twist this teaching in a Manichaean direction by
devaluing marriage.

The Manichaean view, which pits the “spiritual” against the “physical,” degrades the value of the

body. Since sex and procreation are undeniably physical, the Manichaeans believed that marriage was
vastly inferior to virginity.

In the true Christian view, the “superiority” of celibacy does not lie in abstinence from sexual

intercourse. The marital embrace is not evil—it was God who ordained that “the two shall become one
flesh” (Gen. 2:24). Christ does not encourage celibacy out of the supposed inferiority of marriage or a
disdain for sexual union, but only for furthering the kingdom of heaven. Sexual abstinence is not an
end in itself, but a means of fully devoting one’s self to God.

Properly understood, marriage and celibacy explain and complete each another. Because the entire

community of faith looks forward to the resurrection, even married Christians find special meaning in
the witness of celibate believers. Likewise, celibate Christians honor those called to marriage,
remembering Christ’s words: “What God has joined together, let man not separate” (Mt. 19:6).

Celibacy for the kingdom is not simply a matter of abstaining from marriage. It is a way of life

grounded in poverty, chastity, and obedience. “If you want to be perfect,” Jesus told the rich young
ruler, “go, sell your possessions and give to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven. Then
come, follow me.” Celibacy for the kingdom is a radical response to this invitation.

If a person takes vows of chastity, poverty, and obedience, does this make him perfect? No—the

only measure of perfection is love. Every person, celibate or married, is capable of achieving
perfection through love. Vows of chastity, poverty, and obedience are helpful insofar as they help us
grow in love. If we follow them to the letter but forget about the spirit behind them, they are empty.

Marriage and celibacy are also complementary in the area of parenthood. Parenthood always has a

spiritual aspect. Biological parenthood—bringing a child into the world—is not enough to make a true
father or mother. The true parent loves, nurtures, and educates. Celibate persons are called to become
spiritual fathers and mothers, helping younger believers mature in the faith.

Marriage and celibacy rest on a single foundation: selfless love. Both vocations are conjugal in

nature because both are perfected by mutual faithfulness and self-giving. (The celibate person is
“married” to God.) Both fulfill the nuptial meaning of the body, created male and female to form a
communion of persons. Both find their perfect model in Christ. And both, therefore, are a “special gift
from God” (1 Cor. 7:7).

The Kingdom of Heaven

In order to understand Christ’s teaching on celibacy, we need to take a closer look at the phrase “for
the kingdom of Heaven.” Christ’s preaching on the kingdom was twofold: God’s kingdom is being
established here on earth, but its culmination and completion lies beyond, in the world to come.

Everyone is invited to become part of the kingdom, though not all will answer the invitation (see

the parable of the wedding banquet in Matthew 22:1–14). The call to celibacy, addressed to a limited
group of people, is an invitation to help establish God’s kingdom on earth in a special way.

Jesus did not tell his disciples exactly how the celibate vocation helps build the kingdom—only

that it does. But to see the special role played by celibacy, all we need to do is consider the lives of
celibate saints throughout the history of the Church.

Whether we are called to marriage or celibacy, we should aspire to follow God’s plan. As Christ

reminds us, marriage was intended to form a loving, indissoluble one-flesh union. And celibacy is
intended to further the establishment of the kingdom. We must be careful not to take our vocation
lightly, disregarding these values.

Our ultimate destination, the kingdom of Heaven, is the fulfillment of all human aspirations. It is

the fullness of all the good that the human heart desires—the maximum expression of God’s bounty
poured out on man. It is a fullness unattainable in this earthly life.

The kingdom of Heaven also refers to the nuptial union between Christ and the Church. The

Apostle Paul says that the one-flesh union of man and woman is a “great mystery” because it is a sign
of the union of Christ and the Church (Eph. 5:32). This sheds light on both marriage and celibacy for
the kingdom. In complementary ways, both vocations anticipate the “wedding of the Lamb” described
in the book of Revelation:

Then I heard what sounded like a great multitude, like the roar of rushing waters and like loud peals of thunder,

shouting:

Hallelujah!

For our Lord God Almighty reigns.

Let us rejoice and be glad

and give Him glory!

For the wedding of the Lamb has come,

and his bride has made herself ready.

(Rev. 19:6–7)

Celibacy and Nuptial Love

It is natural for the human heart to accept demands in the name of love. Literature and history are full
of examples of men and women who sacrificed everything for their beloved, even to the point of death.
This is what celibacy for the kingdom is like. Those who take up this path are so devoted to Christ,
the divine Spouse, that they sacrifice all other things—including marriage and family.

There is no limit to Christ’s self-giving love for the Church. In the mystery of Easter and in the

sacrament of communion, he gives himself fully to his Bride. Celibacy for the kingdom is a particular
response to this love—a desire to give one’s self fully back to Christ. Celibacy, like marriage, is an
expression of nuptial love.

The modern mentality tends to reduce human love to the level of animal sexual instinct. The

Bible, however, sets forth a different vision. In the first two chapters of Genesis, a clear line is drawn
between man, created in the image of God, and other living beings, or animals. Human sexuality
expresses the full spiritual-physical unity of the person, and is aimed at creating a loving communion
of persons. The modern, naturalistic approach to sexuality misses this entirely. The nuptial meaning of
the body, deduced from the biblical creation story, is the key to an adequate understanding of human
sexuality.

A healthy marriage requires that the spouses understand and accept their sexuality, both their own

and the other’s. But what about celibacy? Should we assume that celibacy demands no understanding
of sexuality? On the contrary, the celibate vocation absolutely depends on a mature understanding of
the body.

The call to celibacy is rooted in the freedom of the gift. Only a mature person—one who controls

and directs his bodily urges instead of being controlled and directed by them—can make a gift of his
body. This is why only “the one who can accept this should accept it” (Mt. 19:12). Celibacy is a gift,
but it must be actively and properly received.

In marriage, husband and wife freely become gifts “for” each other. The ability to make gifts of

ourselves is also the basis of celibacy “for” the kingdom. As with marriage, the celibate person does
not lose himself in the exchange—instead, by making a sincere gift of himself, he discovers his true
self.

The same love that makes a husband and wife “one flesh,” binding them for life, can also inspire a

person to commit exclusively to Christ. This commitment must come about on the basis of a full and
conscious understanding of the blessing of human sexuality. If someone chose the celibate life based
on a rejection of the true wealth of masculinity and femininity, it would not correspond to Christ’s call.

Celibacy Affirms Marriage

In choosing to renounce marriage, the celibate person seems to spurn it as a lesser good. Celibacy that
is truly for the kingdom, however, actively upholds the value of marriage.

First, celibacy for the kingdom requires an informed choice. If a person does not appreciate the

goodness of marriage, as instituted by the Creator from the beginning, he cannot choose celibacy for
the right reasons. In order for the celibate person to value properly the vocation he is choosing, he
must value properly the vocation he is renouncing. Christ demands a mature choice, one that takes his
entire teaching on marriage and celibacy into account.

But more than this, celibacy must be seen as a way of proclaiming the value of marital love in the

world. This seems paradoxical—how can one reinforce marriage by renouncing it?

As we’ve seen, the celibate vocation confirms the nuptial meaning of the body, male and female. It

is not a denial of, or an escape from, our sexual embodiment. By living out the nuptial meaning of the
body apart from human marriage, celibate persons become witnesses to the ultimate meaning of
sexuality.

Celibacy for the kingdom points to our ultimate destiny—total union with God. Celibacy reminds

us that marriage, too, is a sign of the union between Christ and the Church. They are complementary
vocations, each vital to the other.

What is the key to understanding the sacredness of marriage? The spousal love of Christ for the

Church. Christ—himself a virgin and the son of a virgin—reveals the value of marriage at its deepest
level. Far from degrading marriage, celibacy for the kingdom affirms its glory. Living Christ’s call to
celibacy demands not only a certain kind of formation, but rather a transformation. By living a
transformed life of sincere self-giving, celibacy for the kingdom indirectly highlights the deepest
meaning of marriage. In this way, Christ’s invitation to a life of celibacy for the kingdom is a key to
the entire theology of the body.

A Counsel, Not a Command

Jesus’ few words on celibacy for the kingdom are concise and fundamental. When the Apostle Paul
takes up this theme in his First Letter to the Corinthians, he is faithful to Christ’s teaching while giving
it a stamp of his own.

In a sense, Paul interprets Christ’s teaching in light of his own experience as a missionary. He

directs his words at recent converts to the faith. Understanding the relationship between marriage and
celibacy was a problem especially for converts from a pagan background, such as the Corinthians.
Paul answers their questions with both apostolic authority and pastoral sensitivity. He begins:

Now for the matters you wrote about: It is good for a man not to marry. But since there is so much immorality, each

man should have his own wife, and each woman her own husband. The husband should fulfill his marital duty to his

wife, and likewise the wife to her husband. . . . I say this as a concession, not as a command. I wish that all men were as

I am. But each man has his own gift from God; one has this gift, another has that. (1 Cor. 7:1–7)

Paul addresses the entire church—married and unmarried, young and old, virgins and widows. In

his unique style, Paul essentially repeats Christ’s teaching in Matthew 19 by condemning divorce,
upholding the sacredness of marriage, and issuing a call to celibacy for the kingdom.

Echoing Christ, Paul emphasizes that voluntary celibacy is a counsel, not a command. This path is

meant only for those “who can accept it.”

Now about virgins: I have no command from the Lord, but I give a judgment as one who by the Lord’s mercy is

trustworthy. Because of the present crisis, I think it is good for you to remain as you are. Are you married? Do not

seek a divorce. Are you unmarried? Do not look for a wife. But if you do marry, you have not sinned; and if a virgin

marries, she has not sinned. (1 Cor. 7:25–28)

At one point, Paul addresses a specific situation in the Corinthian church involving an engaged

man—a new convert, perhaps—who feels torn between the marriage he has contracted and the
possibility of celibacy for the kingdom. Paul responds:

If anyone thinks he is acting improperly toward the virgin he is engaged to, and if she is getting along in years and he

feels he ought to marry, he should do as he wants. He is not sinning. They should get married. But the man who has

settled the matter in his own mind, who is under no compulsion but has control over his own will, and who has made

up his mind not to marry the virgin—this man also does the right thing. So then, he who marries the virgin does right,

but he who does not marry her does even better. (1 Cor. 7:36–38)

We must avoid unfounded conclusions about Paul’s teaching on marriage. Paul assures the

engaged man that the choice between celibacy and marriage is not a choice between good and evil. It
is not a question of sin. Marriage is good, Paul teaches; but, in the right circumstances, celibacy for
the kingdom is “even better.”

Pleasing the Lord

Why does Paul say that celibacy for the kingdom is “even better” than marriage? Because it is
grounded in the eternal, not the temporary.

Those who marry will face many troubles in this life, and I want to spare you this. What I mean brothers, is that the

time is short. From now on those who have wives should live as if they had none; those who mourn, as if they did not;

those who are happy, as if they were not; those who buy something, as if it were not theirs to keep; those who use the

things of this world, as if not engrossed in them. For this world in its present form is passing away. (1 Cor. 7:28–31)

Here, Paul describes his own way of life, one of radical chastity, obedience, and poverty. Because his
words are personal, they are all the more persuasive. But what does Paul mean by the “troubles” of
marriage? He issues a warning for those who believe that married life will only bring happiness and
joy. In reality, married love is a difficult love. Along with the joy of union, couples will experience
frustration, disappointment, and sorrow.

Paul does not depart from Jesus’ teaching, but he presents it differently. Christ did not promote

celibacy by pointing out the struggles of marriage. Instead, Jesus stressed the difficulties of voluntary
celibacy, saying that those who choose this path make themselves “eunuchs” for the kingdom. The
invitation to become a eunuch would not have sounded easy or pleasant to his original listeners.

By comparing celibate persons to eunuchs, Jesus emphasized the greatness of the renunciation

involved in choosing celibacy. Paul, on the other hand, focuses on the permanent value of the kingdom
of heaven, contrasting it with the perishable and transient nature of earthly things.

Jesus did not explain how celibacy would benefit the kingdom. Paul fleshes this out, presenting a

vivid description of celibacy in action:

I want you to be free from concern. An unmarried man is concerned about the Lord’s affairs—how he can please the

Lord. But a married man is concerned about the affairs of this world—how he can please his wife—and his interests

are divided. An unmarried woman or virgin is concerned about the Lord’s affairs: Her aim is to be devoted to the Lord

in both body and spirit. But a married woman is concerned about the affairs of this world—how she can please her

husband. I am saying this for your own good, not to restrict you, but that you might live in a right way in undivided

devotion to the Lord. (1 Cor. 7:32–35)

The ultimate goal of celibacy, according to Paul, is to “please the Lord.” The celibate person

seeks to please God by following the footsteps of Christ, who always pleases the Father (Jn. 8:29).

To be spiritually fruitful, celibacy must be totally directed toward “the Lord’s affairs.” The

unmarried person can devote his or her entire mind, work, and heart to the kingdom of God, the “one
thing needed” (Lk. 10:41).

Does this mean that the celibate person focuses solely on God, to the exclusion of earthly life and

his fellow human beings? On the contrary, “The earth is the Lord’s, and everything in it,” Paul says a
little later, quoting the Psalms (1 Cor. 10:26). Because “the Lord’s affairs” encompass all of creation,
the Christian cares for the whole world.

A Gift from God

The Apostle Paul observes that the person who remains celibate for the kingdom is anxious “to please
the Lord” (1 Cor. 7:32). In a certain way, this demonstrates the spousal character of celibacy for the
kingdom, since spouses always try to please the one they love. Of course, every Christian who truly
loves God—whether unmarried or married—seeks to please him. This is how we respond to God’s
love, joining in the dialogue of salvation. But Paul says that the married person’s interests are
“divided” by family obligations, while the unmarried person is capable of singular devotion to the
kingdom.

Division can sneak into the heart of an unmarried person, too. If a man or woman is single, but

with no clear purpose—with no special dedication to the kingdom—life can seem empty. Paul is well
aware of this, and advises singles either to marry or dedicate themselves fully to God.

Unmarried life can be full of trials and temptations. Instead of seeing these as setbacks, a celibate

person can use these opportunities to grow closer to Christ. “For we do not have a high priest who is
unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but we have one who has been tempted in every way, just
as we are—yet was without sin. Let us then approach the throne of grace with confidence, so that we
may receive mercy and find grace to help us in time of need” (Heb. 4:15–16).

If Paul seems overly negative about a married person’s ability to serve God, perhaps this owes to

his audience’s understanding of marriage. The Corinthians, Hellenistic converts from a pagan
background, lacked the Jewish tradition that formed the background for Jesus’ teaching on marriage
and celibacy. They lacked the Jewish tradition of Jesus’ audience. While Christ made some
corrections in the Jewish understanding of marriage—opposing divorce and polygamy—he essentially
reaffirmed it. The Corinthians saw marriage not as a God-ordained vocation, but as a secular
institution—a way of “making use of the world” (1 Cor. 7:31). It was a way of becoming established
in the world, of rising in society. Paul challenges this worldly view of marriage by contrasting it with
the values of God’s kingdom.

In his First Letter to the Corinthians, does Paul perhaps recognize only one purpose for marriage—

as a remedy for sexual sin? “Now to the unmarried,” he writes, “. . . it is good for them to stay
unmarried, as I am. But if they cannot control themselves, they should marry, for it is better to marry
than to burn with passion” (1 Cor. 7:8–9). But this does not give us Paul’s last word on the subject.
For Paul’s full theology of marriage, we need to turn especially to his letter to the Ephesians, and the
grand spousal analogy of Christ and the Church. Our next series of reflections, on the sacramentality
of marriage, will begin with that passage.

For now, it is important to note that Paul suggests the sacramental nature of marriage when he says

that it is a gift from God. “Each man has his own gift from God; one has this gift, another has that” (1
Cor. 7:7). While he takes a realistic view of sin and temptation, Paul, with no less conviction, also
sees the action of grace in every Christian. Married or unmarried, we each have our own gift from
God.

In Eternity’s Light

Paul writes with urgency and force. “The time is short,” he warns. We live in a time of “crisis,” for
this world “is passing away.” The kingdom of God, not this world, is our eternal destiny. We should
not become too attached to things that are perishable.

Marriage, Paul argues, is tied up with this transient world. While not devaluing marriage, he urges

us to live in expectation of the coming resurrection, where “people will neither marry nor be given in
marriage” (Mt. 22:30). In light of eternity, Paul insists, he who marries does “right” but he who
remains celibate does “even better.”

While championing detachment from this world, Paul does not slip into a Manichaean dualism of

“spiritual” and “physical.” Our very bodies are habitations of the Spirit. “Do you not know,” Paul
writes earlier in his First Letter to the Corinthians, “that your body is a temple of the Holy Spirit, who
is in you, whom you have received from God? . . . Therefore honor God with your body”(1 Cor.
6:19–20). This applies to all Christians, married or unmarried, for each “has his own gift from God.”

The influence of God’s grace extends to every aspect of marriage, including the sexual embrace.

Paul writes:

The husband should fulfill his marital duty to his wife, and likewise the wife to her husband. The wife’s body does not

belong to her alone but also to her husband. In the same way, the husband’s body does not belong to him alone but also

to his wife. Do not deprive each other except by mutual consent and for a time, so that you may devote yourselves to

prayer. Then come together again so that Satan will not tempt you because of your lack of self-control. I say this as a

concession, not a command. (1 Cor. 7:3–6)

These words, especially the ideas of marital “duties” and bodily “ownership,” can be understood only
within the context of a loving marriage. It is significant that Paul refers to a “concession, not a
command.” This seems to indicate the need for spouses to be sensitive to the inherent differences of
the sexes. By living “the gift” that is their own, spouses can freely unite and, “for a time,” freely
abstain in a way that maintains and strengthens their marital bond and respects their different make-
ups.

Both vocations—marriage and celibacy for the kingdom—answer one of humanity’s fundamental

questions: Why are we created male and female? A true and complete theology of the body is
fundamental for a proper understanding of our humanity. It is equally essential for understanding
questions of ethics. In all of these fundamental questions, we must listen attentively to those key
words of Christ about “the beginning,” “the heart” of fallen and redeemed man, and the resurrection.

Our Hope

Just as the book of Genesis places man at the center of creation, Paul places him at the center of
redemption.

We know that the whole creation has been groaning as in the pains of childbirth right up to the present time. Not only

so, but we ourselves, who have the firstfruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly as we wait eagerly for our adoption as sons,

the redemption of our bodies. For in this hope we were saved. (Rom. 8:22–24)

What is the object of our hope? The redemption of the body, which is the redemption of man. Because
man brought sin into the world, redemption begins with him and radiates outward. The redemption of
the body is also redemption of the world. It is a cosmic event.

The redemption of the body has already been accomplished in Christ, through his death and

resurrection. And his children already bear the “firstfruits” of the redemption, because the Holy Spirit
lives within them.

To understand all that is meant by the “redemption of the body,” we need an authentic theology of

the body. We have tried to acquire such a theology, looking first of all to the words of Christ—his
reference to “the beginning” in his exchange with the Pharisees; his words on lust and the battle for the
heart in the Sermon on the Mount; and, finally, his defense on the resurrection against the Sadducees.

Together, these three statements encompass the whole drama of man—his creation, Fall, and

redemption. They provide a complete vision of the human person, created in the image of God,
subject to sin and death after the Fall, redeemed by Christ, living in hope of the resurrection.

All of Christ’s teachings flow from his redemptive work. The sacredness and indissolubility of

marriage, the overcoming of lust by love, the call to celibacy for the kingdom—these would be hollow
words without the power of the redemption. Our hope is not just in the future resurrection; through
Christ, we have an everyday hope, hope for victory over sin.

In our daily lives, we must tap into the power of the redemption of the body, drawing strength to

overcome the desires of our fallen nature. Husbands and wives must daily nurture their bond of love.
Celibate men and women must daily renew their commitment to Christ. Amidst all the daily struggles
of life, we are called by grace to “overcome evil with good” (Rom. 12:21), clearing a path for the final
redemption of the body.

Christ reveals the full truth about man, making us aware of our sublime vocation. He leads us to

discover and strengthen the bond that exists between the dignity of the human person and the nuptial
meaning of the body. Christ empowers us to live out that meaning in mature and free self-giving. He
reveals two complementary vocations by which man makes a gift of himself: sacramental marriage and
celibacy for the kingdom.

All that we have been describing—this total vision of man—has its ultimate foundation in the

mystery of the redemption of the body.

Document Outline

Copyright
I. BODY AND GIFT Reflections on Creation
The Beginning
In God’s Image
Original Innocence
The Promise of Redemption
Original Solitude
Person and Body
Death or Immortality
Original Unity
The Communion of Persons
One Flesh
Original Nakedness
Unashamed
Creation is a Gift
The Body is a Gift
Free to Love
The Radiance of Love
A Gift for Each Other
Innocence and History
Body and Sacrament
Sex and Knowledge
Motherhood
The Cycle of Life
The Total Vision of Man
II. PURITY OF HEART Reflections on Love and Lust
Christ’s Call to the Heart
Beyond Rules
Fruits of the Fall
Nakedness Lost
Shame and Innocence
Broken Communion
Sexual Division
Communion vs. Domination
The Battle for the Heart
Mutual Belonging
The Way of the Gospel
The Spirit of the Law
Legalized Sin
The Law and the Prophets
The Voice of Wisdom
The Look of Lust
True Attraction
Objectifying the Body
Adultery within Marriage
The Path to Purity
Embodied Morality
The Value of the Body
The Heritage of the Heart
Passion and Purity
The Hidden Spring
The New Man
True Purity
Living by the Spirit
Freedom in the Spirit
Love Fulfills
Honoring the Body
Restoring Harmony
Bought with a Price
Purity and Love
Purity and Joy
An Education in Being Human
The Role of Culture
The Veil of Shame
The Naked Truth
Building a Culture of Purity
III. HEAVEN AND EARTH Reflections on Resurrection
The Body’s Destiny
The Power of God
Like the Angels
Perfecting the Person
A Gift for God
The Revelation of the Body
Resurrection and Redemption
The Resurrected Body
The Spiritualization of the Body
The Call to Celibacy
A Turning Point
Spiritual Fruitfulness
An Exceptional Vocation
Marriage and Celibacy
Complementary Vocations
The Kingdom of Heaven
Celibacy and Nuptial Love
Celibacy Affirms Marriage
A Counsel, Not a Command
Pleasing the Lord
A Gift from God
In Eternity’s Light
Our Hope
Further Reading

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