Sigmund Freud believed that the sexual appetite, which he referred to as the “id,” was always at odds with the voice of reason, which he termed the “superego.” Given this radical conflict, this irremediable antagonism between the demands of instinct and the claims of reason, life, for Freud, was cursed with unredeemable dissatisfaction.
Though he did not understand chastity and had no place for it in his psychology, Freud did understand that without chastity, man is doomed to a life of hopeless discontent.
Chastity, which in the Russian tradition is called “the wisdom of wholeness” (tselomudrie), is the virtue that brings the sexual appetite into harmony with reason. Sex and reason are no more in conflict with each other than dancing and music. Chastity, however, like any other virtue, requires a certain amount of effort and practice before it becomes a virtuous habit. One can dance, but one must adapt it to the right music. It is foolish to condemn dancing as a result of one’s frustrations in trying to march to a waltz. The siren songs of prurient commercial advertising, for example, are not fit accompaniment for human sexuality.
Chastity, therefore, does not require the renunciation of sexuality, but the right use of it. There are times when human beings should abstain from sexual pleasure, but it is not necessary to abstain from activities that are conducted in accord with reason. By reason, we are referring not to an abstract and impersonal set of rules separated from life, but the capacity to be realistic. Reason is a light that illuminates what we are doing so that we can behave in a way that is consistent with our best interest.
One of the fundamental problems that unchastity brings about is a blindness that leads directly to acts of imprudence. A person who is inflamed by lustful desires is hardly in a position to do what is good for himself or anyone else. It is well known that prostitutes can operate very effectively as spies by first seducing their man and then educing from him the valuable information he possesses. The intemperate military leader of the Old Testament, Holofernes, lost his head both figuratively and literally because of his lust for Judith: “Her sandal ravished his eyes, her beauty took his soul captive, . . . and her sword cut off his head.”
Unchastity can be ruinous of a personality. In Shakespeare’s Measure for Measure, Angelo offers to spare the life of Isabella’s brother, Claudio, who faces death because of sexual misconduct, if she consents to sleep with him. When Isabella, who is a novice in a cloistered order of nuns, discusses the matter with her brother, she is horrified to discover what a despicable rake he has become as a result of his carnal misadventures. “Death is a fearful thing,” says Claudio, who has little regard for his sister’s chastity. “And shamed life a hateful [thing],” replies Isabella. Claudio becomes more earnest in his plea: “Sweet sister, let me live: What sin you do to save a brother’s life, / Nature dispenses with the deed so far / That it becomes a virtue.” Her response is most emphatic: “O you beast! O faithless coward! O dishonest wretch! Wilt thou be made a man out of my vice? Is’t not a kind of incest, to take life from thine own sister’s shame?”
She breaks off any further discussion by exclaiming that for Claudio, fornication was not a lapse but a lifestyle: “Thy sin’s not accidental, but a trade, / Mercy to thee would prove itself a bawd: / ‘Tis best that thou diest quickly.” Claudio’s preoccupation with sexual pleasure, which had become a “trade,” or a cold-blooded way of life, poisoned his soul to the degree that his own sister’s honor meant nothing to him. In fact, poor Claudio had lost all sense of right and wrong. He loved his own life inordinately and to the exclusion of all else. Lust had taken possession of him.
Chastity is a most honorable virtue. It honors the self as well as the other. It may be a difficult virtue to attain. Yet the greater part of its difficulty lies not so much in the intensity of sexual desire itself, but due to the fact that it is constantly being aroused by a social environment that can think of little else.
Friedrich Nietzsche, no friend of Christianity, recognized the validity of this point. In Thus Spake Zarathustra, he begins his chapter “Of Chastity” by stating, “I love the forest. It is bad to live in towns: too many of the lustful live there.” St. Thomas Aquinas, long before the days of mass media, understood only too well the dangerous role environmental seduction could play: “There is not much sinning because of natural desires . . . But the stimuli of desire which man’s cunning has devised are something else, and for the sake of these sins one sins very much.”
Modern man alleges that “chaste is waste,” “virtue can hurt you.” But the contemporary fascination with parts is itself a waste and a source of harm, for it enfeebles the whole. Chastity is, indeed, the virtue of wholeness, the virtue that prevents us from the disgrace of being reduced to a mere appetite. The gratification of appetite may bring about pleasure, but it cannot bring about joy, which is the experience of the whole person. The chaste person does not sacrifice joy for pleasure. Rather, he integrates pleasure with joy so that he has both and is thereby a more complete human being. Moreover, because the heart of chastity is love, the chaste person is more faithful to those whom he loves and therefore refrains from making the other person subordinate to his pleasure. Chastity frees us to love others justly and faithfully.
Dr. DeMarco is a professor of philosophy at St. Jerome’s College in Waterloo, Ontario. He is the author of The Many Faces of Virtue and The Heart of Virtue
This article originally appeared in Lay Witness, a publication of Catholics United for the Faith, Inc., and is used by permission. Join Catholics United for the Faith and enjoy the many benefits of membership.
