Luke’s Gospel today sheds light on our human complexity. In the Synoptic Gospels, Jesus begins his preaching with the word Metanoia, a word that implies infinitely more than what’s connoted in its English translation, Repent. Metanoia is an invitation to put on a higher mind, to be more noble of heart, and to leave paranoia, pettiness, and self-gratification behind. Fr. Ron Rolheiser recounts what the Czechoslovakian novelist Ivan Klima wrote a series of autobiographical essays entitled My First Loves about this moral tension he carried around, choosing to remain celibate and not for religious reasons, wondering why he was living this way. If he wondered if he died, would God look at him with disappointment, or would he congratulate him for going on without consolation? For him, it was not a question of what’s sinful or not but rather a question of carrying his solitude and tension in a way that makes for nobility of soul. At first glance, that can seem self-serving; trying to be special can also make for a very judgmental pride. However, true nobility of the soul isn’t something sought for its own sake but something sought for the good of others. One does not try to be good to set oneself apart from others. Instead, one tries to be good to create a beacon of stability, respect, hospitality, and purity for others. When I was a seminarian studying moral theology, one day in class we were examining various questions within sexual morality. At one point, the question arose as to sinfulness or non-sinfulness of masturbation. Is this an intrinsic disorder? Seriously sinful or not anything serious? What’s to be said morally about this question? After weighing the various opinions of students, the professor said this: I don’t think the important question is whether this is a sin or not. There’s a better way of framing this. Here’s where I land on this question: I disagree with those who say it’s a serious sin, but also disagree with those who see no moral issue here whatsoever. The issue here is not so much whether this is a sin or not; rather it’s a question of what level, compensatory or heroic, we want to carry this tension. In the face of this issue, I need to ask myself, at what level do I want to carry my solitude? How noble of soul can I be? How much can I accept to carry this tension to make for a more chaste community inside the body of Christ? Moral theology and spirituality cease being a command and become an invitation to a greater nobility of soul for the sake of the world. Can I be more big-hearted? Can I be less petty? Can I carry more tension without giving in to compensation? Can I be more forgiving? Saints don’t think so much in terms of what’s sinful and what isn’t. Rather, they ask, what is the more loving thing to do here? What’s more noble of the soul, and what’s more petty? What serves the world better?