Michael Mayes 'A tortured Debate'
Michael Mayes’ article charts his own journey through the territory in relation to the biblical texts and the community issues. (Former bishop of Limerick and Killaloe)
A Tortured Debate Michael Mayes DURING the current civil partnership controversy, the phrases “the plain meaning of scripture” and “we have no choice but to obey” have been used on several occasions, often in the context of persuading people not to accept same-gender civil partnerships in the life of the Church. “Scripture explicitly condemns such unions; therefore Christians have no option in the matter,” is the assertion. This approach has the merit of being very clear, and is often welcomed as a sure guide in this highly complex and contentious area. But it ignores the fact that throughout history, faithful Christians, greatly influenced by the cultures in which they have found themselves, have taken very different meanings from scripture. For example, when St Augustine wrote, in his Commentaries on Genesis, of the need to take the creation story “literally”, what he meant by “literally” was not what we mean nowadays. He meant that we should pay careful attention to what is actually written; and this led him to the view that rather than creating a complete universe in six “days”, God created a universe with built-in “potentials”, including time, which would eventually develop into what we now see and experience.[1] During the Reformation, it was the declared aim of many of the reformers that scripture should be its own interpreter. No ecclesiastical “interpreting authority” should be allowed to come between reader and scripture. Then surely a true union of hearts and minds, as distinct from an imposed conformity, would inevitably follow. But things did not turn out that way. Within a short time, the Reformation disintegrated into warring factions, each claiming to be based on the clear meaning of scripture. The process proved to be vastly more complex than had been expected, involving as it did the life of faith at the individual, family, community, ecclesiastical and national levels of human existence. That process continues today[2]. What becomes evident as we look into this whole area is the extent to which the “plain meaning of scripture” is itself heavily influenced by the context within which it is read. What is of abiding significance in one culture is relegated to the side-lines in another. For example the exorcism stories of the Gospels are of much greater significance within some African cultures than they are within today’s Western/European culture, which sees modern medicine as the most effective route to healing. Views of polygamy, acceptable in Old Testament times, also vary widely between cultures. The New Testament only specifies monogamy in I Timothy 3 for deacons and bishops; and in the Reformation period, it was responsibly argued that polygamy was permissible under certain circumstances. Indeed in recent times polygamy amongst African Christians remained sufficiently widespread, at least until Lambeth 1988, to warrant a Resolution.[3] To return to our question, there were several Lambeth resolutions prior to 1998, urging member provinces to reflect deeply on human sexuality issues, taking account of contemporary insights and research. With a few exceptions, those resolutions were largely ignored. I do not remember any such reflection taking place within the Church of Ireland during those years. At a meeting of the Anglican Consultative Council in Panama prior to Lambeth 1998, when the Bishop of Oxford was outlining the agenda, one delegate from Uganda vehemently protested that such subjects should not even be raised in a Christian assembly. It is impossible to read the Bible without cultural spectacles. No supposedly “objective” reading or interpretation can be valid for every time and place. This is not to say that the reader is simply at the mercy of whatever culture he finds himself in. There has to be a process of critical engagement of speaking and listening to the culture in which the believer lives. God can, and does, speak to the Christian believer through the medium of other, non-Christian cultures, and change the outlook of the believer. An example of that is Acts 10, where Peter has to abandon his (scripture-based) principles for the sake of those hitherto unclean and “beyond the Law”, in this case Cornelius the centurion. Some time ago, I wrote a letter to the Church of Ireland Gazette asking why two outstanding Archbishops, Akinola of Nigeria and Tutu of Cape Town, both equally steeped in the same scriptures, should find themselves on opposite sides of the dispute. So far, it has not been answered. Why is it that different people can get diametrically different answers from the same scriptures? Mutual accusations of liberalism, post-modernism or fundamentalism have achieved little other than the hardening of those divisions. My own journey The culture of my upbringing was decidedly anti-gay, and those peculiar people (we had other names for them, and “gay” wasn’t one of them) were the object of much merriment and crude jokes. Inevitably, my attitudes were already well formed long before I even knew that church or scripture had anything to say on the subject. When I eventually discovered that church and scripture were of a similar negative view, my culturally-derived attitudes were confirmed as being on the right lines, albeit in need of more charitable and more civilised expression. A number of things forced me to look again at the subject. One was a book by Bishop Lesslie Newbigin entitled Foolishness to the Greeks[4] in which he dealt with the profound question of Gospel and Culture. The question can best be expressed in the form “How do I know whether what I hear is the voice of God, or simply the voice of my own culture?” Newbigin’s answer was, “If what you hear merely confirms what you have always thought, then what you hear is probably the voice of culture. God inevitably speaks to you through the medium of your own culture, but He never leaves that culture undisturbed”. My cultural environment was deeply, and often crudely, anti-gay, and despite a greater public willingness to accept gay people, in many ways it still is. It is no coincidence that when Cardinal Ratzinger pronounced that gay people were “inherently disordered” the sport of “queer-bashing” in Dublin was given a new lease of life. A more direct reason for “thinking again” was my own experience as a parochial clergyman where I got to know gay and lesbian people, ordained and lay, on a more personal level. The ones who had the greatest effect on me were those whose personal sanctity, integrity, courage and devotion were beyond question, and whose journeys had brought them, and often their families, through sheer hell as they agonised over what they discovered in and about themselves. Some of them sadly and silently took their leave of the Church where they clearly felt unwelcome, but some of them continued with their involvement and devotion. In many ways, that required an even greater degree of courage. In the context of the church, scripture is central. Outside that context, scripture is usually ignored, but within the church it can never be. So almost all of my own reflections on the subject have concentrated on scripture, seeking an answer to the question, “Is there really no room in the inn?” Two of the “plainest” scriptural texts are Leviticus 18.22 and 20.13. The first of these prohibits same-sex coupling between males. The second decrees that offenders must be put to death. Both texts are equally “plain”. We have long since by-passed the latter, and we do not hear any demands, within the Church of Ireland at least, that the death penalty should be restored, even though scripture plainly decrees it. We don’t do that sort of thing any more; we have moved beyond it. So far beyond it, indeed, that it is no longer even a criminal offence. Yet if “the plain word of scripture” is to be the supreme guideline, it should follow that same-sex unions be re-criminalised. Even though the State has the right to legislate in the civil sphere in this matter, the Church should at least discipline, if not actually excommunicate, all of its members, ordained or lay, who are living in same-sex unions. That would be the logical outcome of “plain” obedience to Leviticus 20.13; but that unambiguous command has been quietly consigned to the past. But if it is acceptable to look at one “plain” text in a different light and consign it to the past, why is it unacceptable to do likewise with the other? It is actually very difficult simply to use the blanket argument that “scripture (or God) commands it; therefore we have no option but to obey”. As we have seen, we are already in a state of “disobedience” to a clear scriptural command, and this seems to be quite acceptable to Christians in this part of the world. So on what grounds has it been decided that Leviticus 20.13 (the death penalty) is less important or less relevant or less Christian than Leviticus 18.22 (the prohibition)? It cannot be argued that Christianity per se is opposed to the death penalty. With regard to this particular subject, same-sex coupling between males remained a capital offence on the statute books in England until well into the nineteenth century. Consent to the death penalty for “heinous and grievous offences” is also enshrined in Article 37, to which the Church of Ireland still officially adheres; but the execution of homosexuals would now be regarded as barbaric. So if we let one text go as inappropriate in our time and place, why not the other? The sin of Sodom There are other biblical texts that are adduced in favour of the argument that same-gender unions are eternally unacceptable from a biblical Christian perspective.[5] One of them is from Genesis 19, relating the fortunes of the city of Sodom, whose wickedness was without parallel. It was traditionally accepted that the “sin of Sodom” was homosexuality, and the words “sodomy” and “sodomite” have been incorporated into the English language to describe it. In English, a “sodomite” is quite simply a male who engages in same-sex coupling. But the Biblical Hebrew word for “sodomite” has a more particular meaning. It refers specifically to a male temple prostitute. There was a female counterpart as well.[6] It was this “religious” dimension, elevating human reproductive power to the same level as the creative power of God, which was objectionable. The Genesis account of creation was written as a challenge to a surrounding religious culture that regarded many aspects of the created order as gods, and worshipped them accordingly. All these things belong to the order that is created by God, and are not to be worshipped as if they are divine. Human sexuality was one of those “divinised” objects of worship, usually enshrined in fertility cults, and had to be demoted to the level to which it properly belonged.[7] According to the Genesis account of Lot and his guests, the “men of Sodom” came to his door, demanding that he bring out his visitors “that we may know them”. The verb “yada’” means “to know” (as in English), as well has “have sex with”. The demand could therefore mean “bring out these strangers – we want to know who they are”, or “bring them out – we want to rape them”. Clearly Lot thought they meant the latter, because he pleaded with the crowd to leave them alone because they were his guests and therefore under his protection. But his response seems strange to say the least: “Take my daughters instead: they are pure virgins”. Perhaps the real wickedness in Lot’s eyes was the flagrant abuse of hospitality, which in many cultures was, and still is, sacrosanct. Guests are to be protected and defended at all costs, and it was preferable for his own family to suffer rather than his guests. It is interesting also that when Jesus referred to Sodom and Gomorrah he did so in the context of the refusal or abuse of hospitality, as he was sending his disciples out to preach the good news of the Kingdom. If any city refused to give them hospitality, they were to “shake the dust” of that city off their feet, and leave. “It will be more tolerable for Sodom and Gomorrah in the Day of Judgement than for that city”.[8] This would support the contention that the “sin of Sodom” was rooted in the refusal of hospitality. Romans 1 Another frequently cited passage is Romans Chapter 1. It is clear enough that St Paul condemned same-sex coupling, or at least disliked the very thought of it. Some scholars argue that he was thinking of paedophilia or temple prostitution or promiscuous lust; but for the purposes of this discussion, let us assume that he simply meant same-sex coupling is wrong, that it is a frightful sin worthy of damnation, and that is God’s final word on the matter. According to one way of reading Romans 1, Paul’s argument seems to be based on a form of natural theology. In verse 20, he tells us that the nature of God is revealed through his creation. You don’t even have to be a Christian to see it. The natural order tells us all about him, and therefore nobody, Jew or Gentile, has any excuse for ignoring him. Unfortunately, the Gentiles have deliberately shut their eyes, and given themselves to all kinds of behaviour that is unnatural. That seems to be a major part of the (Christian/religious) argument against homosexuality – it is completely unnatural, because God did not design us that way. The whole of nature tells us that truth. But what are we to understand by “natural”? Does it mean “that which sometimes, usually or always occurs in nature as a whole”? That is what most people understand by it. It is natural for flowers to bloom in the spring; and it is natural for bees to make honey. It would be unnatural for a bee suddenly to make horseradish sauce, or for oranges to appear on a pear tree. Yet if I did see oranges occasionally growing from pear trees, I would have to conclude that, although it may be very rare, it could still fit within my understanding of “natural”. People who write with their left hands are comparatively rare, but that doesn’t make them unnatural, even though in my own lifetime it was regarded as wholly unnatural and a punishable offence to boot. (My older brother who is naturally left-handed actually writes with his right because his teacher used to beat such perverted malefactors until they did.) And that, for me, is where St Paul’s “argument from nature” is flawed. What am I to make of it when an eminent Canadian biologist reminded the agitated Anglican Bishops[9] some years ago that same-sex coupling is widespread in nature? In some animal species it is very common, in others less so. It might not be universal or even particularly widespread at the human level, but it is not unnatural. (Furthermore, we must guard against assuming that “rare” = “unnatural” = “wicked”. Human beings, even Christians, have too often made that connection.) If this reasoning is accepted, then we have a dilemma, which may be expressed like this: (1) If same-sex coupling is natural, then, if the natural order reveals God’s will as Romans 1.20 says it does, it must be at least acceptable to God’s will. (2) However, if same-sex coupling is wicked in the eyes of God, then nature cannot be a reliable channel of revelation, because it permits, if only on a modest scale (what is it? 5%? 10%?), a form of behaviour that is contrary to God’s will, and therefore St Paul cannot turn to nature as the basis for his argument. In fact Paul seems at least sometimes to have thought of nature itself as somehow fallen. At best it could only be a much distorted channel.[10] Even if we grant that the knowledge of nature available to Paul in the first century AD would have led him to his conclusion, and that he was using that knowledge humbly and responsibly, it does not follow that we must accept his conclusion. Rather it suggests that we must be equally responsible in using the knowledge now available to us, even though it might lead us to a different conclusion. To argue that we must accept Paul’s verdict because he was divinely inspired raises another question. How do we know that he was inspired? If he was inspired, was he inspired in all things, or was he inspired in some things but not necessarily in others? Perhaps the best way to answer that is along lines similar to those laid down in scripture in relation to prophecy. How do we know that a prophet is genuine? Is it because he says “Thus saith the Lord”? No, says Deuteronomy 18.20-22. The test is much simpler. Wait and see whether his words turn out to be true. If he has got it wrong, ignore him. So far, I have looked at one way of understanding Romans 1, and found that it has for me some very serious weaknesses. However, that is not the only way to understand the passage, as closer attention to the development of its thought may show. For what follows, I have tried to reflect the argument of Gareth Moore.[11] The passage concerned begins in v.18 with a declaration that the wrath of God is revealed from heaven against all ungodliness and unrighteousness of men, because God has clearly shown his (invisible) nature to them through the (visible) created order (vv. 18 – 20). There is therefore no excuse for anyone, Jew or Gentile. The passage then elaborates on what Gentiles have done wrong to deserve this wrath (21 – 23). They have turned away from the creator, and worshipped created beings instead. In short, they are idolaters. That is their crime – idolatry. And inevitably they are punished for it. What is the punishment? It is outlined in vv. 24 – 26, and is introduced by the word “therefore”. Because they have turned away from the creator to worship the created order they have been given over to vile affections and unnatural (sexual) behaviour. In other words, vile affections and unnatural behaviour are the punishment for the sin of idolatry. Punishment is not in itself a crime; it is what people get for committing a crime. Furthermore, the unnatural behaviour outlined in 24 – 26 is not described as “sinful”, but “shameful” or “indecent” (v.27), which is not the same thing. Some sins (but not all of them) may be shameful, and some shameful things (but not all of them) may be sinful; but they are two different concepts. The passage concludes with a list of those things that are “worthy of death” as distinct from “indecent” (vv.28 – 32). Apart from the fact that same-sex activity is not on that list, the categories of behaviour described are closely linked to the wilful disruption, or even destruction, of the community of faith. The Good Samaritan Finally, there is another scriptural passage that may have considerable bearing on this topic, but which, as far as I know, has not featured very much if at all in recent discussion. It is the story of the “Good Samaritan”. It is worth looking at in some detail to see the full import of it.[12] The story begins with a lawyer, an expert in the sacred Torah, who “stood up to test Jesus”. He asked a seemingly harmless question, “How can I inherit eternal life?” and Jesus responded with another seemingly harmless question, “You’re the expert. What does the Torah say? How do you read it?” The second question is just as important as the first. It is never as simple as quoting chapter and verse. It also involves the response and understanding of the reader, because whether he likes it or not, the reader is always wearing spectacles through which he reads the text. Is there a “right” way of reading it, or does it just depend on which spectacles the reader is using? The lawyer was able to do the first part: he quoted chapter and verse without hesitating: “It says you must love the Lord your God and your neighbour as yourself”. “Well done”, says Jesus, “if you do that, you will live”. The lawyer then tries to spring his trap. “By the way, before I forget, who actually is my neighbour?” Jesus tells the story of the Good Samaritan in response. The lawyer had rightly identified the heart of the Law, the Torah, which Jesus himself had also identified: “You must love the Lord your God, and your neighbour as yourself.” That is what the Law and the Prophets are all about - “on these two commandments hang all the Law and the prophets”. They are the spectacles through which you must read the scriptures. If you love God and your neighbour as yourself, you will read them properly. When Jesus had finished telling the story, he concluded with yet another question: “Which of these three was the neighbour?” And the crux of the entire episode comes when the lawyer answers: “The one who did the right thing - who had mercy on him.” He couldn’t even bring himself to say “The Samaritan”. Why not? It was because, from the orthodox lawyer’s point of view, the Samaritans were heretics, outsiders, rejected by the orthodox adherents of the Law. “The Jews have no dealings with the Samaritans”.[13] “Go and do thou likewise”, says Jesus. He does not simply mean “Go and help those in trouble.” He didn’t need to spell that out – the faithful Jews of the time were very good at doing it anyway, and didn’t need to be told. Instead he goes beyond the obvious and says: “That despised Samaritan was the neighbour, and you must love your neighbour as yourself”. The original commandment to “love thy neighbour” is in Leviticus 19.18. The verse says: “Thou shalt not avenge nor bear any grudge against the children of thy people, but thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself”. In this context, “the neighbour” is clearly “one of us”. But here Jesus has extended the definition of “neighbour” to include the despised and distrusted outsider, who is not “one of us”. He has removed the boundaries: “He has broken down the dividing wall of partition between us.”[14] A modern parable During the Second World War, a Quaker ambulance crew in Poland got caught in cross-fire, and one of them was killed. His colleagues wanted to bury him in a Christian cemetery, so they went to the parish priest to seek permission to bury him there. The priest was most sympathetic, but canon law decreed that only Catholics could be buried there. So they compromised – the dead man would be buried up against the fence, which was the next best thing. The next morning, on his way to Mass, the priest discovered that some of his parishioners had got up during the night and moved the fence. The dead soldier was now lying in hallowed ground. Can we not move our own boundaries? After all, there is a divine precedent. If the Church of Ireland were ever to conclude that “there is no room in the inn”, to my mind it would be disastrous. It would be completely contrary to the attitude of Christ portrayed in the Gospels. [1] See Alister McGrath’s article in the Autumn 2008 edition of Search.(Vol 32.3.) [2]For a comprehensive survey of the Reformation period and is aftermath, see e.g. (a) Diarmaid MacCulloch: Reformation: Europe’s House Divided; Allen Lane 2003 (b) Alister McGrath: Christianity’s Dangerous Idea: The Protestant Revolution from the sixteenth century to the twenty-first; SPCK 2007 [3] Lambeth 1988. Resolution 26. [4] Newbigin L., Foolishness to the Greeks, Eerdmans, 1986. [5] For a thoughtful survey of frequently cited Biblical texts see e.g. Gareth Moore: A Question of Truth: Christianity and Homosexuality; Continuum 2003. [6] For those who are familiar with Hebrew, the word is “Qadesh” (male), and “Qedeshah” (female) which is etymologically connected to the word “Qadosh”, which means “holy”. [7] A fertility cult used to be practised even in the Temple in Jerusalem; in the course of his reforms, Josiah destroyed “the houses of the sodomites” in the Temple precincts. [8] Matthew 10.15. [9] v. Bruce Bagemihl, Biological Exuberance, New York, St Martin’s Press (1999) [10] A similar view of nature as being corrupted by sin seems to be implied in the title “Sexual Perversion in Male Beetles”, published in 1896 by an entomologist named Kerville. [11] See note 5 above. [12] Luke 10. 25 -37. [13] John 4.9. [14] Ephesians 2.14. [14] Ephesians 2.14.* Full article available in printed copies.
Michael Mayes
Formerly Bishop of Limerick and Killaloe.