Sexuality & Theology
(Part 5 of the essay)
Theological themes relevant to human sexuality
I turn now to an all-too-brief consideration of theological themes relevant to our topic. Theology both as a formal discipline and as a practice is, in its essence, the attempt to think well and faithfully about the data arising from Holy Scripture and from Christian testimony over the centuries. It involves reflecting upon, cataloging, harmonizing, and creating conceptual frameworks for all of these data. In the famous motto of Saint Anselm of Canterbury, it is “faith seeking understanding."
As already noted, creational monotheism is a central, overarching idea informing Christian ethical teaching: God is one, is separate and distinct from our reality, and yet created that reality as good. However, one must put this idea together with two others to arrive at a basic, Christian philosophical anthropology -- that is to say, an understanding of human nature that meets the minimum requirements to count as genuinely Christian. The first is the Imago Dei -- the idea that humans were created “in God’s image.” The second is Original Sin (or, “The Fall of Man”) -- the idea that by exercise of free choice humans rebelled against God, thereby sinning against Him and introducing death and destruction into God’s good creation.
As to human sexuality, as noted earlier, traditional Christian teaching has it that the created order -- as presented in the first chapters of Genesis -- lays down the distinction of sexes and the blessing of heterosexual relations exclusively. (Traditionalists believe that it also lays down what's known as a "complementarian" understanding of male and female relationships in both marriage and the Church: Though both sexes are equal, males are the “head” of females in these contexts in terms of authority.) There is a “naturalism” here, in terms of the reproductive process at the very least, that is self-evident, intuitive, reasonable, and good.
This intrinsic complementarity of female and male is often held to be a reflection of God’s own nature. Though traditionally the Christian God is conceived of in masculine terms, it has long been recognized that God -- “a being than which nothing greater can be conceived” as St. Anselm famously put it -- both transcends, and consequently can exemplify, all stereotypically masculine and feminine predicates. Thus, God is both powerful and protecting on the one hand, merciful and forgiving on the other.
A sine qua non of human nature as reflecting God’s Image is the human capacity for agency -- that is, for free will. However, agency was, in a way, the inbuilt nemesis of humankind’s original blessedness. It opened the door to rebellion against God and thence to his Fall. Disparate theological systems treat of the effects of the Fall differently, with the gamut spanning from humans as being “totally depraved” to humans as possessing a “fallen” nature yet still capable of freely choosing the good and as having limited-yet-real noetic powers vis-à-vis the knowledge of God.
All Christian systems are united in their belief that sin has infected all of human life, including human sexuality. Specifically, traditionalists see homosexual behavior as one particularly egregious example of how the Fall has twisted and perverted the original, divine intent for human flourishing -- in this case, to use the words of St. Paul above, the “exchange” of the “natural” sexual relations between the opposite sexes to “unnatural” ones between the same.
Another salient theme has to do with the set of ideas falling under the general rubric of Old Covenant versus New Covenant. Though usual, the opposition inherent in the word 'versus' is controversial. Indeed, more and more so: To my reading, the newer New Testament scholarship places the emphasis on continuities between Old and New rather than on radical breaks, on the re-imaginings of the Old Testament by the New Testament writers in light of Jesus’ life and teaching rather than on rifts and replacements.
An idea that emerges from St. Paul especially is that Christians are no longer under law but rather under grace, that the Old Covenant of Law from Moses has been subsumed by the New Covenant of Grace in Jesus. But it is a difficult question as to what specific ethical demands, especially as touching practice and behavior, transfer over from Old to New. Most Christians would say, for example, that the Old Testament command that adulterers should be put to death is no longer binding. Yet, there is no specific retraction of that punishment in the New Testament along the lines of Paul’s emphatic disavowal of the need to be circumcised. (Jesus’ mercy to the woman “caught in adultery” rises to the level of example and not to that of a general statement.)
Similarly, the oft-made distinction between the ritual requirements of the Law of Moses (e.g., the system of sacrifices, circumcision, the keeping of the Sabbath) and its ethical requirements (e.g., everything else in the Ten Commandments save Sabbath-keeping and perhaps taking God’s name in vain) is very difficult to draw in practice. The former are generally held to no longer apply to Christians, the latter to do so. But, to return to the Holiness Code as an example, the Code with its prohibitions against sexual deviancy belongs, after all, to the Book of Leviticus. And here’s how the Lexham Bible Dictionary summarizes Leviticus.
I turn now to an all-too-brief consideration of theological themes relevant to our topic. Theology both as a formal discipline and as a practice is, in its essence, the attempt to think well and faithfully about the data arising from Holy Scripture and from Christian testimony over the centuries. It involves reflecting upon, cataloging, harmonizing, and creating conceptual frameworks for all of these data. In the famous motto of Saint Anselm of Canterbury, it is “faith seeking understanding."
As already noted, creational monotheism is a central, overarching idea informing Christian ethical teaching: God is one, is separate and distinct from our reality, and yet created that reality as good. However, one must put this idea together with two others to arrive at a basic, Christian philosophical anthropology -- that is to say, an understanding of human nature that meets the minimum requirements to count as genuinely Christian. The first is the Imago Dei -- the idea that humans were created “in God’s image.” The second is Original Sin (or, “The Fall of Man”) -- the idea that by exercise of free choice humans rebelled against God, thereby sinning against Him and introducing death and destruction into God’s good creation.
As to human sexuality, as noted earlier, traditional Christian teaching has it that the created order -- as presented in the first chapters of Genesis -- lays down the distinction of sexes and the blessing of heterosexual relations exclusively. (Traditionalists believe that it also lays down what's known as a "complementarian" understanding of male and female relationships in both marriage and the Church: Though both sexes are equal, males are the “head” of females in these contexts in terms of authority.) There is a “naturalism” here, in terms of the reproductive process at the very least, that is self-evident, intuitive, reasonable, and good.
This intrinsic complementarity of female and male is often held to be a reflection of God’s own nature. Though traditionally the Christian God is conceived of in masculine terms, it has long been recognized that God -- “a being than which nothing greater can be conceived” as St. Anselm famously put it -- both transcends, and consequently can exemplify, all stereotypically masculine and feminine predicates. Thus, God is both powerful and protecting on the one hand, merciful and forgiving on the other.
A sine qua non of human nature as reflecting God’s Image is the human capacity for agency -- that is, for free will. However, agency was, in a way, the inbuilt nemesis of humankind’s original blessedness. It opened the door to rebellion against God and thence to his Fall. Disparate theological systems treat of the effects of the Fall differently, with the gamut spanning from humans as being “totally depraved” to humans as possessing a “fallen” nature yet still capable of freely choosing the good and as having limited-yet-real noetic powers vis-à-vis the knowledge of God.
All Christian systems are united in their belief that sin has infected all of human life, including human sexuality. Specifically, traditionalists see homosexual behavior as one particularly egregious example of how the Fall has twisted and perverted the original, divine intent for human flourishing -- in this case, to use the words of St. Paul above, the “exchange” of the “natural” sexual relations between the opposite sexes to “unnatural” ones between the same.
Another salient theme has to do with the set of ideas falling under the general rubric of Old Covenant versus New Covenant. Though usual, the opposition inherent in the word 'versus' is controversial. Indeed, more and more so: To my reading, the newer New Testament scholarship places the emphasis on continuities between Old and New rather than on radical breaks, on the re-imaginings of the Old Testament by the New Testament writers in light of Jesus’ life and teaching rather than on rifts and replacements.
An idea that emerges from St. Paul especially is that Christians are no longer under law but rather under grace, that the Old Covenant of Law from Moses has been subsumed by the New Covenant of Grace in Jesus. But it is a difficult question as to what specific ethical demands, especially as touching practice and behavior, transfer over from Old to New. Most Christians would say, for example, that the Old Testament command that adulterers should be put to death is no longer binding. Yet, there is no specific retraction of that punishment in the New Testament along the lines of Paul’s emphatic disavowal of the need to be circumcised. (Jesus’ mercy to the woman “caught in adultery” rises to the level of example and not to that of a general statement.)
Similarly, the oft-made distinction between the ritual requirements of the Law of Moses (e.g., the system of sacrifices, circumcision, the keeping of the Sabbath) and its ethical requirements (e.g., everything else in the Ten Commandments save Sabbath-keeping and perhaps taking God’s name in vain) is very difficult to draw in practice. The former are generally held to no longer apply to Christians, the latter to do so. But, to return to the Holiness Code as an example, the Code with its prohibitions against sexual deviancy belongs, after all, to the Book of Leviticus. And here’s how the Lexham Bible Dictionary summarizes Leviticus.
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Portrays the rituals that priests must regulate and perform to maintain God’s presence with His people. Primarily concerned with sacrifice and regulations for maintaining holiness. (1)
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Attempting to neatly divide the ritual from the ethical, with the latter “coming over” into the New and the former being quarantined to the Old, is a game that both traditionalists and progressives seek to play to their own advantage. Indeed, tomes have been penned to explain what ethical requirements “transfer” from Old to New and (importantly) why so. Exploring such a vast topic is well beyond my scope.
I would like to point out, however, a practice that has become cliché: to wit, the procedure of going to Leviticus (for example), identifying a proscribed behavior, the prohibition of which one either agrees or disagrees with, and then using that fact as justification for either approving or condemning some other item on the list. So traditionalists will say that because the Holiness Code has the prohibitions against adultery, incest, and bestiality mere verses away from that against homosexuality, it follows that just as the former now apply so too do the latter. Conversely, progressives will argue that since the Code prohibits such things as mating different kinds of animals, planting different kinds of seed together, and weaving cloth from different kinds of material, that the taboo against homosexuality must no longer hold.
Though I myself shall, later, make some points about reading Old in light of New, I hope to avoid doing so in a simplistic manner. I will say now, though, that I think that great caution is in order when we extrapolate any statements about ethics or behaviors from the Scriptures -- Old or New -- into our contemporary context. The gulf between ancient and modern is vast.
There are other theological themes pertinent to our topic: The re-creation of humanity and the cosmos through God’s power as inaugurated by the Resurrection of Jesus; the redeeming work of Jesus Christ as effected by the Holy Spirit in the life of a Christian; the role of the Church as the community in which individuals receive comfort, counsel, and discipline; the place of hope as we long for the New Creation promised; and the call to love God and one’s neighbor as oneself. All of these are important; yet the themes above seem to me the ones most relevant to human sexuality per se.
I would like to point out, however, a practice that has become cliché: to wit, the procedure of going to Leviticus (for example), identifying a proscribed behavior, the prohibition of which one either agrees or disagrees with, and then using that fact as justification for either approving or condemning some other item on the list. So traditionalists will say that because the Holiness Code has the prohibitions against adultery, incest, and bestiality mere verses away from that against homosexuality, it follows that just as the former now apply so too do the latter. Conversely, progressives will argue that since the Code prohibits such things as mating different kinds of animals, planting different kinds of seed together, and weaving cloth from different kinds of material, that the taboo against homosexuality must no longer hold.
Though I myself shall, later, make some points about reading Old in light of New, I hope to avoid doing so in a simplistic manner. I will say now, though, that I think that great caution is in order when we extrapolate any statements about ethics or behaviors from the Scriptures -- Old or New -- into our contemporary context. The gulf between ancient and modern is vast.
There are other theological themes pertinent to our topic: The re-creation of humanity and the cosmos through God’s power as inaugurated by the Resurrection of Jesus; the redeeming work of Jesus Christ as effected by the Holy Spirit in the life of a Christian; the role of the Church as the community in which individuals receive comfort, counsel, and discipline; the place of hope as we long for the New Creation promised; and the call to love God and one’s neighbor as oneself. All of these are important; yet the themes above seem to me the ones most relevant to human sexuality per se.
Whether questions about human sexuality count as essential to Christian belief
Though it may seem a bit late in our discussion to inquire as to the actual centrality of this matter to Christian doctrine and practice, it’s important to specifically ask the question. Traditionalists certainly think it is essential, that it’s not a matter about which Christians can disagree. The promulgators of the so-called Nashville Statement, a recent pronouncement by conservative evangelicals, draw their line thus:
Though it may seem a bit late in our discussion to inquire as to the actual centrality of this matter to Christian doctrine and practice, it’s important to specifically ask the question. Traditionalists certainly think it is essential, that it’s not a matter about which Christians can disagree. The promulgators of the so-called Nashville Statement, a recent pronouncement by conservative evangelicals, draw their line thus:
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WE AFFIRM that it is sinful to approve of homosexual immorality or transgenderism and that such approval constitutes an essential departure from Christian faithfulness and witness.
WE DENY that the approval of homosexual immorality or transgenderism is a matter of moral indifference about which otherwise faithful Christians should agree to disagree. (Article X) (2) |
Remarkably, most of the Nashville Statement’s signatories would appear to be "non-creedal” Christians: That is to say, while they would no doubt affirm the “basics” of the Christian faith -- for example, the divinity of Christ -- through their particular denomination’s “statement of belief” (or such), they wouldn’t count as properly creedal. The reason is that affirming one of the great ecumenical creeds -- such as the Nicene Creed or the Chalcedonian Creed -- or even one of the important Protestant confessions -- such as the Westminster Confession -- isn’t necessary for membership in the denomination they represent. Ironically, many of these groups -- Baptists, for example -- originated as non-creedal because they sought to protect liberty of conscience. There is, at the very least, a hint of confusion here, perhaps in fact outright inconsistency and even hypocrisy.
Such confusion and inconsistency are in full bloom in a recent issue of a leading, conservative evangelical periodical: namely, the October 2015 issue of Christianity Today. The cover story ("The Truth about Heresy" by Justin S. Holcomb) addresses heresy, what the idea means and what beliefs might count as such. Quite simply, heresy is the opposite of orthodoxy (literally, “right belief”). A heretic is one who rejects core doctrines of the Christian faith. Historically, what counts as “core” has been codified, as it were, in the creeds and confessions just noted.
The author points out, correctly, that much of what conservative evangelicals call heresy doesn’t rise to that level. Many such beliefs -- e.g., the “Prosperity Gospel,” the need to speak in tongues to “count” as “Spirit-filled,” bizarre eschatologies -- don’t detract from the essence of Christian faith. Indeed, whether they are labeled heterodox or just false would seem to matter little in practical terms: If they’re wrong, or if they’re emphasized to the exclusion of core tenets, or if they’re merely daft, then they can be addressed on those terms.
However, the even-handedness of the cover story is offset by the rashness of an editorial (“The New Battle for the Bible” by Mark Galli). We are told that there’s a “new battle for the Bible.” That there’s a need for evangelicals to return to the Scripture and to eschew mere “consensus” with those with whom they disagree. The star example is homosexuality:
Such confusion and inconsistency are in full bloom in a recent issue of a leading, conservative evangelical periodical: namely, the October 2015 issue of Christianity Today. The cover story ("The Truth about Heresy" by Justin S. Holcomb) addresses heresy, what the idea means and what beliefs might count as such. Quite simply, heresy is the opposite of orthodoxy (literally, “right belief”). A heretic is one who rejects core doctrines of the Christian faith. Historically, what counts as “core” has been codified, as it were, in the creeds and confessions just noted.
The author points out, correctly, that much of what conservative evangelicals call heresy doesn’t rise to that level. Many such beliefs -- e.g., the “Prosperity Gospel,” the need to speak in tongues to “count” as “Spirit-filled,” bizarre eschatologies -- don’t detract from the essence of Christian faith. Indeed, whether they are labeled heterodox or just false would seem to matter little in practical terms: If they’re wrong, or if they’re emphasized to the exclusion of core tenets, or if they’re merely daft, then they can be addressed on those terms.
However, the even-handedness of the cover story is offset by the rashness of an editorial (“The New Battle for the Bible” by Mark Galli). We are told that there’s a “new battle for the Bible.” That there’s a need for evangelicals to return to the Scripture and to eschew mere “consensus” with those with whom they disagree. The star example is homosexuality:
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[P]erhaps no false teaching is more confusing or divisive than that the church should bless same-sex relationships. It’s a good example of the doctrinal challenge before [evangelicals]...
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After a quick dismissal of “revisionists” (like I), the editor opines that
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[n]aturally, we remain unconvinced that the Holy Spirit would reverse course from a divinely inspired teaching.
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In a final bit of unhelpfulness, the editor states:
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Whatever serious false teaching we are facing, the Bible is uncomfortably clear. When false teachers persist in their views, they will be subject to divine judgment (see especially 2 Peter). For the sake of these false teachers (that they might avoid God’s judgment) and church health (that we might flourish in God), we believe we need a shift in how we teach the Bible. In short, we need to spend more time teaching the Bible as first and foremost the revelation of God.
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Putting these two pieces together, Christianity Today apparently does not take the question of same-sex relationships as rising to the level of “core doctrine” but merely to that of “true or false teaching." (To be fair, this is an improvement on the Nashvillians.) But, if that is the case, then it is unclear why this is not a matter over which thoughtful Christians might sincerely disagree. And if that is so, then why aren’t conservative evangelicals gracious enough to engage those who give reasons -- drawn from Scripture, Christian testimony, and reason -- for the opposing position, rather than condemn them as “false teachers” headed for “divine judgment”?
Even really daft beliefs like the Prosperity Gospel have some basis in Scripture, testimony, and reason. And aspects of such teaching may, in fact, ring true: God, after all, does seek to bless His children (even if not usually with expensive baubles). The question is: How compelling is the basis for a belief? How well-supported is it? Evidential support always comes in degrees; “proofs” are the things of which only fundamentalists dream. The fact is that the Prosperity Gospel is not well-supported. Consequently, its proponents are advocating a “false teaching” when they claim for it support it doesn’t possess, and they should be called out on that. (Whether or not they are headed for divine judgment is beyond both my knowledge and concern.)
The current state of this debate, between traditionalists and progressives, is radically different than that with vapid ideas like the Prosperity Gospel. Same-sex relationships have only been a live issue -- both in the culture at large and in the Church -- for less than fifty years. The state of our knowledge -- biological, psychological, sociological -- as to same-sex orientation has vastly grown over that time. Indeed, as we’ve seen, our understanding of what sex “amounts to” in the Scripture itself is much more complete than it was only a generation ago.
It is thus far too early for evangelicals -- a stream of Christianity that largely got its start by rejecting doctrinaire establishments -- to declare this issue settled. It will likely never be “settled” in a way that the early creeds settled the divinity of Christ. Where matters of faith, personal identity, and power intersect -- as here -- conscience might be the only sure guide. Perhaps the editors at Christianity Today are correct: We should eschew consensus. We should be content instead with diversity.
Even really daft beliefs like the Prosperity Gospel have some basis in Scripture, testimony, and reason. And aspects of such teaching may, in fact, ring true: God, after all, does seek to bless His children (even if not usually with expensive baubles). The question is: How compelling is the basis for a belief? How well-supported is it? Evidential support always comes in degrees; “proofs” are the things of which only fundamentalists dream. The fact is that the Prosperity Gospel is not well-supported. Consequently, its proponents are advocating a “false teaching” when they claim for it support it doesn’t possess, and they should be called out on that. (Whether or not they are headed for divine judgment is beyond both my knowledge and concern.)
The current state of this debate, between traditionalists and progressives, is radically different than that with vapid ideas like the Prosperity Gospel. Same-sex relationships have only been a live issue -- both in the culture at large and in the Church -- for less than fifty years. The state of our knowledge -- biological, psychological, sociological -- as to same-sex orientation has vastly grown over that time. Indeed, as we’ve seen, our understanding of what sex “amounts to” in the Scripture itself is much more complete than it was only a generation ago.
It is thus far too early for evangelicals -- a stream of Christianity that largely got its start by rejecting doctrinaire establishments -- to declare this issue settled. It will likely never be “settled” in a way that the early creeds settled the divinity of Christ. Where matters of faith, personal identity, and power intersect -- as here -- conscience might be the only sure guide. Perhaps the editors at Christianity Today are correct: We should eschew consensus. We should be content instead with diversity.
Homosexuality among other "sins"
The Church has wrestled with thorny questions since its very inception: St. Peter was utterly repulsed when he had the vision of “unclean” foods in the Book of Acts (10:9ff). Yet that experience set the stage for the eventual inclusion of the Gentiles. And the Church has of course been riven by more schisms, more differences of opinion, more “lacks of consensus” than can practically be cataloged. Indeed, Christianity as a religion is so fissiparous that one often wonders whether there really is such a thing.
As to our topic, it is worth considering other practices deemed controversial at one point or another by one group of Christians or another. This will give points of reference, context, and perhaps room to breath.
An excellent first example is divorce. Though few evangelicals would consider divorce a straightforward response to a troubled marriage, our levels of divorce and remarriage don’t differ much from our unchurched neighbors. This would seem a scandal. After all, the teaching on divorce in Scripture seems clear enough. (A devout, divorced woman I once knew told me that she’d never remarry because the prohibition against it was “written in red”: that is to say, in the words of Jesus in her “red-letter edition" of the Bible.) Are we ignorant of the Bible? Are we beset by extreme cognitive dissonance? After all, the Catholic church has held to this “clear teaching” of Scripture unwaveringly.
It is my observation that evangelicals -- with the implicit approval of their pastors -- divorce and remarry because they find it necessary. Bad things -- beyond marital unfaithfulness -- happen to good people and to their marriages. Yet it is not good for people to be alone: Men need women, women need men, and children need stable homes. And so we fudge in our doctrine. We rationalize as to lessers of evils. We invoke God’s grace and forgiveness. All of which are perfectly comprehensible.
Consider next the practice of usury. Nowadays “loan sharks” are said to be usurers: They lend money at exorbitant interest rates, preying on the poor. However, throughout most of Christian history, lending money at any interest rate was considered usury. It was roundly condemned by the Church. Christians saw it as unnatural (creating money out of money), thieving (the borrower must repay not only the principal but more besides), and uncharitable (if your brother needs money you should not profit from his misery).
Such a perspective appears quaint to us moderns. Modern life is unimaginable without finance. The Church itself is replete with “teachings” and “wise counsels” about how best to make money by using it. I certainly am not opposed to lending or borrowing. Nevertheless, earlier Christians’ antipathy toward usury is not without merit. There’s something wise and holy about it.
Vectoring in from the opposite direction: Race-based prejudice -- including slavery -- was, in the not-too-distant past, condoned by serious American Christians as being, at least, not inconsistent with Scripture. Though this might seem a severe example, it’s fair enough. It’s all-too-tempting to view slavery as a mere historical peculiarity, as a blank feature of a remote society, as something that otherwise good people were just confused about. The same with the de facto apartheid that oppressed African-Americans in the South during most of the last century. But these were evils then, and perceptive people saw them as such. Shamefully, many otherwise faithful Christians either would not -- or, more charitably, could not -- see them as vile.
The most direct way to justify treating a person as chattel is, of course, to consider him sub-human. And that was the belief -- stated or implied -- of most slaveholders. For the Christian slaveholder this meant ignoring the Imago Dei staring right back at him. The Scriptures were enlisted and twisted to this end: Black Africans were said to be the descendants of Ham, Noah’s son, who was cursed such that his descendants would be slaves to the descendants of Noah’s other sons (to naturally include white Europeans). (See Genesis 9.) St. Paul’s instruction to first-century slaves -- “Obey your earthly masters with respect and fear, and with sincerity of heart, just as you would obey Christ” -- was read as still binding in the nineteenth century. (Ephesians 6:5) Moreover, inasmuch as the New Testament had assumed slavery as a fact of life, why should that ever change?
Thoughtful Christian abolitionists knew that the sum testimony of Scripture -- the record of Good News for all men -- had to amount to more than this. And they were right: No one would now countenance the views of Christian slaveholders. But, relative to their space and time, their beliefs would have been counted as respectable Christian opinion. We’re fooling ourselves if we think otherwise.
Three examples of practices that sincere Christians, over the centuries and across cultures, have disagreed over: divorce, money lending, and race-based prejudice. The question of same-sex relationships seems well within the ambit of things aspiring Christians might view differently.
I turn the page now to resolving our apparent dilemma.
The Church has wrestled with thorny questions since its very inception: St. Peter was utterly repulsed when he had the vision of “unclean” foods in the Book of Acts (10:9ff). Yet that experience set the stage for the eventual inclusion of the Gentiles. And the Church has of course been riven by more schisms, more differences of opinion, more “lacks of consensus” than can practically be cataloged. Indeed, Christianity as a religion is so fissiparous that one often wonders whether there really is such a thing.
As to our topic, it is worth considering other practices deemed controversial at one point or another by one group of Christians or another. This will give points of reference, context, and perhaps room to breath.
An excellent first example is divorce. Though few evangelicals would consider divorce a straightforward response to a troubled marriage, our levels of divorce and remarriage don’t differ much from our unchurched neighbors. This would seem a scandal. After all, the teaching on divorce in Scripture seems clear enough. (A devout, divorced woman I once knew told me that she’d never remarry because the prohibition against it was “written in red”: that is to say, in the words of Jesus in her “red-letter edition" of the Bible.) Are we ignorant of the Bible? Are we beset by extreme cognitive dissonance? After all, the Catholic church has held to this “clear teaching” of Scripture unwaveringly.
It is my observation that evangelicals -- with the implicit approval of their pastors -- divorce and remarry because they find it necessary. Bad things -- beyond marital unfaithfulness -- happen to good people and to their marriages. Yet it is not good for people to be alone: Men need women, women need men, and children need stable homes. And so we fudge in our doctrine. We rationalize as to lessers of evils. We invoke God’s grace and forgiveness. All of which are perfectly comprehensible.
Consider next the practice of usury. Nowadays “loan sharks” are said to be usurers: They lend money at exorbitant interest rates, preying on the poor. However, throughout most of Christian history, lending money at any interest rate was considered usury. It was roundly condemned by the Church. Christians saw it as unnatural (creating money out of money), thieving (the borrower must repay not only the principal but more besides), and uncharitable (if your brother needs money you should not profit from his misery).
Such a perspective appears quaint to us moderns. Modern life is unimaginable without finance. The Church itself is replete with “teachings” and “wise counsels” about how best to make money by using it. I certainly am not opposed to lending or borrowing. Nevertheless, earlier Christians’ antipathy toward usury is not without merit. There’s something wise and holy about it.
Vectoring in from the opposite direction: Race-based prejudice -- including slavery -- was, in the not-too-distant past, condoned by serious American Christians as being, at least, not inconsistent with Scripture. Though this might seem a severe example, it’s fair enough. It’s all-too-tempting to view slavery as a mere historical peculiarity, as a blank feature of a remote society, as something that otherwise good people were just confused about. The same with the de facto apartheid that oppressed African-Americans in the South during most of the last century. But these were evils then, and perceptive people saw them as such. Shamefully, many otherwise faithful Christians either would not -- or, more charitably, could not -- see them as vile.
The most direct way to justify treating a person as chattel is, of course, to consider him sub-human. And that was the belief -- stated or implied -- of most slaveholders. For the Christian slaveholder this meant ignoring the Imago Dei staring right back at him. The Scriptures were enlisted and twisted to this end: Black Africans were said to be the descendants of Ham, Noah’s son, who was cursed such that his descendants would be slaves to the descendants of Noah’s other sons (to naturally include white Europeans). (See Genesis 9.) St. Paul’s instruction to first-century slaves -- “Obey your earthly masters with respect and fear, and with sincerity of heart, just as you would obey Christ” -- was read as still binding in the nineteenth century. (Ephesians 6:5) Moreover, inasmuch as the New Testament had assumed slavery as a fact of life, why should that ever change?
Thoughtful Christian abolitionists knew that the sum testimony of Scripture -- the record of Good News for all men -- had to amount to more than this. And they were right: No one would now countenance the views of Christian slaveholders. But, relative to their space and time, their beliefs would have been counted as respectable Christian opinion. We’re fooling ourselves if we think otherwise.
Three examples of practices that sincere Christians, over the centuries and across cultures, have disagreed over: divorce, money lending, and race-based prejudice. The question of same-sex relationships seems well within the ambit of things aspiring Christians might view differently.
I turn the page now to resolving our apparent dilemma.
Footnotes:
(1) “Leviticus, Book of” by D. Jeffrey Mooney, LBD.
(2) The text of the Nashville Statement is here: https://cbmw.org/nashville-statement/
Credit for images
Photo by Mark Gorman from Pexels https://www.pexels.com/photo/architecture-boats-buildings-canal-623843/
"Nashville skyline in 2009" by Kaldari - Own work, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=7342552
"Christ drives the Usurers out of the Temple" by Lucas Cranach the Elder, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=7903704
(1) “Leviticus, Book of” by D. Jeffrey Mooney, LBD.
(2) The text of the Nashville Statement is here: https://cbmw.org/nashville-statement/
Credit for images
Photo by Mark Gorman from Pexels https://www.pexels.com/photo/architecture-boats-buildings-canal-623843/
"Nashville skyline in 2009" by Kaldari - Own work, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=7342552
"Christ drives the Usurers out of the Temple" by Lucas Cranach the Elder, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=7903704