In this article, Norman examines the sexual elements of Methodius’ writings. He sees Methodius’ use of sexual symbolism as part of the long tradition that frames celibate’s relationships with God in terms of intensely erotic language. Indeed, Norman argues that Methodius is at the very beginning of this long-lasting phenomenon. Norman is specifically interested in the “remarkable” metaphor that Methodius uses: “divine insemination with the logos spermatikos” (81) – perfectly encapsulated in English by the pun “coming of Christ.” In this work, Norman uses various methodological perspectives to approach Methodius’ sexual language and compare a variety of different readings.
Norman presents several references to male orgasm in Methodius’ Symposium. Theophilia, the second virgin to speak, gives a detailed interpretation of Genesis 2:21-24 (the formation of Eve from Adam’s rib and their subsequent marriage). Methodius likens Adam’s “deep sleep” to “the ecstasy and self-forgetfulness of orgasm” (84). Methodius identifies these physical sensations with those experienced in the union of Christian marriage: he uses the same language to speak about the relationship of Adam and Eve and the union of Christ and the Church. Methodius writes that Christ’s crucifixion was how he planted the “blessed spiritual seed” in the Church, who “bears and nurtures it as virtue” (85, citing Methodius 65). According to Methodius, this orgasm-crucifixion is repeated in every Eucharist: “it is impossible for anyone to participate in the Holy Spirit … unless again the Word has first descended upon him and fallen into the sleep of ecstasy … receiving from him the pure and fertile seed of doctrine” (86, citing Methodius 66–67). Indeed, Methodius describes Paul as the “trans-gendered bride of Christ and mother of Christians” (86), exemplifying this relationship with Jesus. To support this interpretation, Methodius cites Galatians 4:19, in which Paul addresses “my little children, for whom I am again in the pain of childbirth until Christ is formed in you” (NRSV). In short, the ecstasy of orgasm is what facilitates union with Christ. Upon reflection, Norman claims, the ecstasy of orgasm seems to be a natural fit in the wider metaphor of Christ as bridegroom.
Next, Norman turns to other scholarship that interprets sexual language. He first presents the work of Denys Turner and Caroline Walker Bynum, who look at erotic symbolism in medieval Christian writing. Turner is an anti-Freudian: he believes that medieval monks were not sexually repressed, and instead deliberately transfer their sexual urges to the divine. Norman agrees, but pushes back by pointing out that sexual language – even used metaphorically – “still has the capacity to be taken literally, affecting the reader erotically and sexually on at least an instinctual level” (90). Norman notes that Bynum more closely follows this approach. She argues that sexual language was used by female mystics to evoke “somatic expressions of the Christian and Platonist sexual symbolism” (91). Reading this onto Methodius, Norman recognizes that the symbols of orgasm he uses are powerful metaphors both because of their metaphoric potency and because of their erotic content. The explicit descriptions are attractive to readers sexually, perhaps subliminally, as well as intellectually.
Norman turns to an analysis of the role of gender in Methodius’ work. The Symposium was written by a man, but he speaks through the voices of ten female characters. Methodius uses male orgasm as the metaphor to approach the aims of patriarchal theology. Rosemary Radford Ruether criticizes Methodius for his “patriarchal misappropriation of female gender roles” (93). Norman notes that Methodius’ ideal mother figure is Paul and his symbolic language – male orgasm as the ecstasy of union with Christ – clearly excludes women. Indeed, Norman places this symbolic language in the context of an explicitly patriarchal theology. He gives the example of the logos spermatikos, citing 1 John 3:9: “those who have been born of God do not sin, because God’s seed [σπέρμα] abides in them” (NRSV, NTG). Norman acknowledges that, seen in this context, Norman’s use of male orgasm must be judged quite harshly.
Norman looks next to Michel Foucault’s History of Sexuality. Reading Methodius through a Foucaultian lens, Norman sees the sexual language as fundamentally about relations of power. Women are subordinated, but so are slaves and penetrated men. Norman cites Stephen Moore, who reads Paul’s erotic metaphors as concerning “God’s phallus” penetrating the believer and causing great (erotic/spiritual) pleasure. Norman thinks Methodius should be read more positively. After all, the male orgasm is fundamentally ecstatic, even when it comes about from submissiveness. Furthermore, it is true that the orgasm described is male. But in this period there were “men who menstruate and women who inseminate” (98). So why could there not be women, too, who experience (symbolic) male orgasm upon union with Christ?
In the end, Norman argues, Methodius should be read positively. His use of the male orgasm as a metaphor opens up spaces outside of heterosexual hegemony. His discussion of celibacy, eros, and spirituality revolves around “a romantic idealization of desire” in which “sex symbolizes divine love” (99). In this light, Methodius’ Symposium is a valuable and challenging work.