In my last post, I discussed how the letters of Paul are not as clear on the issue of homosexuality as many in
the Church would prefer—indeed, of the two primary pericopae often utilized by
“Christian” heterosexist pastors and theologians, the language is in some
places quite murky. In contrast, however, Paul does iterate multiple times the absolute necessity of
unity, fellowship, love, and submission to one another in the body of Christ.
How then do we illustrate this to our congregations? How can the quickly
growing field of biblical scholarship and gender studies begin to turn around
such an ambling, socially and culturally stunted behemoth? I suggest that this
might best be done by “queering” the Church.
This
term, coined by literary queer theorists and theologians in the 1990s, refers
to the reappropriation by a marginalized group of a word or object that was
previously used to degrade, demoralize, and dehumanize members of that group.
Great theological strides have been made in recent years in “queering the
Bible,” that is, reading and studying the Bible from an LGBTQ perspective. In
this particular case, “queering the Church” refers to the act of making the
Church—an institution whose most recognizable public trait is homophobia—into
not only an institution which is unashamed and unafraid of its gay and lesbian
brothers and sisters, but an institution which openly embraces them. But the
term “queering” has another connotation, as well: the action of setting apart,
or “peculiarizing.” This is a notion that has deep roots in the liberation
theology of the Exodus: “You shall not wrong or oppress the stranger in your
midst, for you were once strangers in the land of Egypt.” In queering the
Church, we should hope not only to become opened to the LGBTQ community, but
stand out among our culture as God’s peculiar, inclusive people, for the simple
reason that at some point in our long history, we knew what it was like to
be despised, persecuted, “queer.” Is this
not the greater mission of the body of Christ?
While it should be
observed that no persecuted group has ever achieved justice with a magical
catchall sermon or speech, I would here like to briefly outline five specific
ways in which our congregations and faith communities might begin to push
forward in this dialogue.
1. Begin the conversation
People fear what
they do not understand. The more an issue can be discussed, however, the closer
our brothers and sisters in the church can be moved toward understanding. David
L. Tiede spells out the responsibility of church and seminary leaders to their
congregations and students:
Those
who believe that the prevailing mores are unjust or oppressive must either
garner the authority of the institutions which articulate and maintain the
moral standards of the community or they must challenge that authority.
Institutions such as seminaries, congregations, and church offices steward
their legitimate authority in these matters more by persuasion than coercion.
They must listen to the arguments of those who believe the standards are inept
for the many or unjust to the few.[1]
Sometimes the best way to initiate
revolutionary change is to be open with our questions, and not be afraid to
push back a little against the presumptions of others.
2. Illustrate the inherent
misogyny that underlies homophobia.
As mentioned
above, when the Bible is appealed to as a source of wisdom worthy of the
so-called “problem” of homosexuality, it may be helpful to very carefully frame
the issue within the historical context of misogyny in the ancient world. Most
(though not all) modern Christians recoil from the accusation of sexism, and
upon further discussion it will become evident to our congregations that our heterosexism is actually just thinly veiled sexism. As Martin claims, “The ancient condemnation of the
penetrated man was possible only because sexist ideology had already inscribed
the inferiority of women into heterosexual sex. To be penetrated was to be
inferior because women were inferior.”[2]
If we confront our churches and ourselves with the knowledge that our
historical hatred of gays and lesbians is less about sin and morality than it
is about deep-rooted assumptions about the superiority of men to women, we can
then repent and begin to press beyond such social structures.
3. Be your faith community’s
Paul.
The Apostle Paul was perhaps the very first Christian
contextual theologian, and we admire him for this. Should we not fulfill the
same role for our congregations and faith communities that are struggling to
accept gays into the family of God? Paul wrote on Kingdom ethics from a
specific cultural and historical context. We should, therefore, also let our
culture and historical context influence how we perceive Kingdom ethics today.
It makes little sense to attempt to plug Paul’s contextual theology neatly into
our own.
4. Value experience.
Our congregations
have too long sat in the festering stagnant water of bibliolatry. When
experience ceases to inform reason, and when scripture is treated as a god and
not as a tool for communing with God, the Church will lose relevance. To
prevent this, we must open ourselves to the moving of the Spirit in our lives,
not restricting it to the pages of a book. It is criminally myopic for a church
to publicly condemn gays without having ever met one. Actual face-to-face encounters with the LGBT community help to connect faces
with the growing number of openly gay Christians who are struggling for a place
in the Church, and it is hard to hate someone whom you know and love deeply. We
simply cannot afford to place the Bible in such high esteem that we alienate
and devalue the experience of others. Our churches need to develop a
sensitivity to the Biblical text which is not often seen among people
absolutely certain of the truth of their perspective, moving forward with fear
and trembling.
5. Love.
Above all, we must love. Often, those claiming to be moderates circumvent the issue ofhomosexuality by proclaiming that we should “hate the sin, not the sinner.” Unfortunately,
what we have thus far failed to grasp is that hate is the sin, as described by Paul in the
opening verses of Romans 2. It is easy to isolate two verses in 1 Corinthians 6 and read
what we want to hear from them, giving ourselves permission to discriminate and
marginalize by right of Biblical authority. It is a much more difficult task to take in the
entire letter through the pivotal locus of 1 Corinthians 13: unless we infuse our discourse
with openhearted love, we are but clanging cymbals. And now, perhaps more than ever, is
when the public needs to hear the melody of the Church ringing clearly, a song of freedom
and acceptance.
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