by Lauren Winner

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review by Lisa Graham McMinn

LAUREN WINNER writes about sex and chastity with candor and wisdom as she combines theology with a good understanding of life and culture in the twenty-first century. Her own messy journey toward faith and chastity gives her credibility and relevance, allowing her to engage a broad audience even as she puts forth unpopular notions to move us toward God-honoring and ultimately rewarding living. Knowing that our sexual habits tend to be formed by Hollywood and magazines like Cosmo and GQ, Winner calls communities of believers to reexamine Christian teachings on sex, bodies, spiritual disciplines, and corporate responsibility for each other's very personal and private sexual lives.

As a sociologist concerned about strengthening community life I found Chapter 3 particularly strong: Communal Sex: Or, Why Your Neighbor Has Any Business Asking You What You Did Last Night. Winner challenges our culture's individualistic stance that asserts anyone's private sex life is no one else's business. She quotes one of my favorite poet-philosopher-farmers, Wendell Berry, who says, “Sex, like any other necessary, precious, and volatile power that is commonly held, is everybody's business.” Sex is communal, Winner says, because sex has consequences—not just in babies born outside of stable families, but because sex forms our character, our personhood. What we do with our bodies shapes who we become…and this is a matter of social concern. The Bible calls us to intrude upon each other's lives—to hold each other accountable for how we spend our money or live out our sexual lives. Yet she says the Church is not so much a cop as a storyteller, reminding us who we are, and how God's grace works itself out in the life of the Church.

Winner unpacks lies from our culture and our churches. Perhaps I liked the book so much because I agree with her on so many points! It's affirming to come across others also challenging notions: “marrying early is one of the biggest mistakes you could make—you have to explore the world first, and really know yourself, and really know the one you're thinking of marrying.” She challenges women and men to think about issues of modesty, and challenges churches' shaky attempts to keep adolescents from having sex by claiming premarital sex is always unsatisfying and will inevitably make you feel guilty and bad.

But Winner, beyond debunking myths and lies, also makes unabashed recommendations. Because young adults frequently ask for them, she names boundaries around premarital sexual activity and defends them—even as she admits other positions may be defensible. Her point is to get us thinking Christianly about why we do what we do—how our choices and behaviors form us into Christians seeking after the heart of God. Her inclusion of a discussion about the role of spiritual disciplines is wonderful.

Nevertheless, I would have liked to see her wrestle more with redemptive aspects of being sexual and single—so that the choice of chastity is not only a call to deny oneself of sexual intercourse but includes other expressions of sexuality that are life-affirming, related to our will to relate and our desire to be in relationship with others. Perhaps because she started the book as a single woman, and sent it off to the publisher as a newlywed she focused much and well on the beauty and importance of sex in marriage. But I wonder if people who are not married will still feel like they want more on living well with singleness.

Real Sex blends history, social science, and theological reflection well, making a strong contribution to the growing body of literature on sexuality. Winner has written an engaging, provocative book that should start interesting and challenging conversations in our faith communities. Meanwhile, I look forward to interacting with her through the October book discussion in the Conversation Café.

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