Stumblers

The LORD is my light and my salvation; whom shall I fear? The LORD is the stronghold of my life; of whom shall I be afraid? When evildoers assail me to devour my flesh—my adversaries and foes—they shall stumble and fall. (Psalm 27.1-2)

Yesterday Walt and I, along with many members of our Lake View Presbyterian faith community, joined more than 60 churches to walk in Chicago’s Pride Parade. There were hundreds of us—so many that our entourage stretched longer than a city block, far longer than any Chicago Coalition of Welcoming Churches parade entry ever had. It was thrilling, and our joy was made full by the ebullient response we received. Thousands of spectators cheered, thanked us, high-fived us, and more than a few embraced us with teary eyes. As we turned the corner for the parade’s last leg, we spied the Westboro Baptist crowd, a small clutch of people from the infamously homophobic Kansas church that turns up each year. And something marvelous happened. We began to rejoice! Those on the sidelines added to our chorus. The roar that went up overpowered the invective hurled our way through Westboro’s loudspeakers. Not one hateful word could be heard.

Last night, as I reflected on the event, it occurred to me that we witnessed exactly what David writes about in Psalm 27. We saw our adversaries stumble and fall. And there was an important lesson in that, I think. When we embrace God as our light and salvation—as the very stronghold of our lives—we have nothing to fear. There is no reason to suppress our joy and confidence. In fact, facing those who would denigrate our making and beliefs is cause for joy. It incites rejoicing that we are free from gnawing hatred and hollow piety. We are at peace with our God, our neighbors, and ourselves, And out of that realization flows rivers of joy that drown out those who condemn us—especially those who, like the Westboro folks, go out of their way to diminish the wonder of our making.

Our joyful antidote to the bilious attacks was the last hurrah for this year’s parade. No doubt there will be repeat engagements at future marches. Yet our number will continue to increase, and with it our joy. We will rejoice even more vibrantly in the coming years—not to prove a point, but because joy is the point. As I closed the chapter on 2012 Pride, it struck me that this year’s parade ended just as it began. Our service preceding the march closed as the choir sent us out with the “Everybody Rejoice” chorus from The Wiz:

Can you feel a brand new day!

Can you feel a brand new day!

“They shall stumble and fall,” David reminds us. And on we march, into the light, salvation, and stronghold of God’s new day.

The Chicago Coalition of Welcoming Churches prepares to step off at this year’s Pride Parade.

Say "Yes" to the Yes

He answered, “It is not fair to take the children’s food and throw it to the dogs.” She said, “Yes, Lord, yet even the dogs eat the crumbs that fall from their master’s table.” Then Jesus answered her, “Woman, great is your faith!” (Matthew 15.26-28)

Not His Kind

Today, Gay Pride is traditionally observed around the world, marking the 43^rd anniversary of the Stonewall Riots that gave birth to the LGBT rights movement. While many communities opt to celebrate Pride on other dates throughout the year, the last weekend in June touches a global nerve. With or without parades and festivals, we pause to consider how far we’ve come together and the distance we’ve yet to go.

In light of today’s celebrations, we’re going to break from the Sunday lectionary to consider a truly amazing event in Jesus’s life and ministry. In fact, it’s one of very few times when we witness two altogether extraordinary things: someone whose needs are too great to countenance rejection and Jesus, the Great Teacher, learning an invaluable lesson that changes how He sees and thinks. The story, told in Matthew 15.21-28, is deceptively simple. A mother, whose daughter is tormented by an evil spirit, seeks Jesus out. Expecting to be ignored, she makes a ferocious squall that disturbs the disciples. They urge Jesus to send her away. He agrees, not because she’s too loud and obnoxious to merit attention. Jesus wants nothing to do with her because she’s not His kind. She’s a Canaanite from the pagan tribe Israel conquered to claim the Promised Land. “I was sent only to the lost sheep of the house of Israel,” Jesus says matter-of-factly—as if the woman should know better than to ask Him for anything.

Unimaginable

The Canaanite woman will not be ignored. She kneels before Jesus and prays, “Lord, help me.” We imagine her desperation and humility will touch Jesus. Given the racially charged climate of her day, she is, after all, making a fool of herself to prevail on the kindness of a Jew. But Jesus’s reaction is unimaginable to us. He rejects the woman’s plea in a most degrading fashion. “It’s not fair to take the children’s food and throw it to the dogs,” he says. For all practical purposes, He tells the woman she’s worse than a beggar; she’s a thief, an ill-mannered mongrel trying to steal what doesn’t belong to her. Where is the love that Jesus is so famous for? Where are the compassion and acceptance He’s always talking about?

Surely the insult wounds this woman to the core. Surely her hopes crumble and the pain of hearing her daughter won’t be helped slices her in two. Still, in the face of outright bigotry, she refuses to be refused. She grants Jesus His point. Her request is unorthodox and, in the eyes of Jewish traditionalists, indefensible. She really has no right to ask, or expect, Jesus to intervene. But none of it matters. Her need is too urgent, her agony too real. So she absorbs the insult and then turns it on its head. “Yes, Lord,” she says. “Yet even the dogs eat the crumbs that fall from their masters’ table.” Her simple statement takes Jesus aback and compels Him to rethink His position. He’s stunned into a new understanding of what God requires of Him, and everything God wants to do through Him to eradicate religious, social, and cultural boundaries that deny God’s grace to all but a select few. Suddenly Jesus is moved on a level far more profound than merely accommodating an anguished mother’s request. The woman’s belief that Jesus will help her constrains Jesus’s belief that He must. He declares, “Woman, great is your faith! Let it be done for you as you wish.” Matthew finishes by informing us, “Her daughter was healed instantly.”

All-Inclusive

This is the Gospel in action—the good news of God’s kingdom that calls us to repent from narrow-mindedness that seeks to limit God’s grace to people of a certain kind, namely, our kind. And our astonishment with this episode springs from witnessing Jesus repent from the exclusionary mindset of His faith tradition. God vests the Canaanite woman with holy boldness to teach Jesus that God’s grace is too big for labels and boundaries. The time for religious bigotry and rejection has ended. God is doing something new that debunks members-only myths about faith and acceptance. Up to this point in Matthew, Jesus has been pushing the envelope by healing Jewish outcasts and performing miracles on the Sabbath. But this precious Canaanite mother presses Him to go all the way—to ignore all the rules and include her among those whose lives are forever changed by His power. And perhaps the most thrilling aspect of this event emerges in Jesus’s immediate response. He doesn’t tell the woman to come back after He’s had time to consider whether or not He should honor her request. He doesn’t consult the religious establishment about what’s “right.” He doesn’t poll His followers to see if they’ll be comfortable with His decision to help the woman. He answers her prayer with an all-inclusive “Yes.”

Christ’s all-inclusive “Yes” is the Canaanite mother’s legacy to us. And she has much to teach us about laying claim to it. We may have to come to Jesus in a big way, making a lot of noise that disturbs His inner circle. We may have to endure social and religious humiliation caused by our insistence that Jesus take notice of us. We will have to humble ourselves before Christ and beseech Him to help us. But God vests each of us with holy boldness to believe that God’s grace is too big for labels and boundaries. Great is our faith—so great that Jesus will reward it without hesitation. Jesus will never ask us to come back after He’s considered our worthiness. No traditions or powers need be consulted to ensure our acceptance. Christ will never poll His followers to get their approval of His decision to hear us and do amazing things in our lives. Regardless who we are, where we come from, and how others label us, Jesus answers us with an all-inclusive yes.

On this Pride Sunday, I pray that LGBT and alienated believers everywhere will summon the courage to overturn every hindrance and boundary attempting to deny their right to believe. I pray that we all will say, “Yes” to the Yes.

Christ’s all-inclusive “Yes” is the Canaanite mother’s legacy to us.

Podcast link: http://straightfriendly.podbean.com/2012/06/23/say-yes-to-the-yes/

Homecoming

This is the word of the LORD to Zerubbabel: Not by might, nor by power, but by my spirit, says the LORD of hosts. (Zechariah 4.6)

Pinnacle of Hope

An extraordinary passage of Scripture surfaces in today’s lectionary readings—no doubt chosen for its relevance in the run-up to this weekend’s Feast of Pentecost. It comes from Zechariah, a complex record of divine messages and visions given to the prophet as the Jews come home after 70 years in Babylonian exile. Much of Zechariah finds scholars scratching their heads, trying to sort out the historical, political, and theological layers tightly compressed in God’s promise to resurrect the nation after its long night of sorrow and loss. Yet ever so often a thrilling shaft of light breaks through, the most famous in Zechariah 4.6: “Not by might, nor by power, but my spirit, says the LORD of hosts.” The allusion to God’s Spirit—which operates in a way that transcends might and power—makes the text a timely precursor to Pentecost’s outpouring of the Holy Spirit. “Don’t look for this thing to happen like anything you’ve known or seen,” it says. Then, when we take a moment or two to discover what “this thing” is, it knocks our socks off.

The message is forwarded through Zechariah to Zerubbabel, a prince appointed to reestablish the Jewish nation and, most important, rebuild the Temple the Babylonians destroyed while sacking Jerusalem. The original Temple sat atop Mt. Zion, the city’s highest peak. Prior to the Babylonian conquest, it shone as the Jews’ pinnacle of hope—hard proof of God’s faithfulness to them. After centuries of looking to the Temple to inspire future hope, all that remains on Mt. Zion is the rubble of dashed dreams. So great is the people’s attachment to the Temple that Psalm 137 says the Babylonian exiles wept when they remembered Zion. Now that the Jews are returning home, reconstructing the Temple is the first order of business. More than that, refuting lost hope is of vital importance.

Ten Soft-Spoken Words

Perhaps the best way to tap into the epic emotions riding on this enormous project is comparing it to the devastation we felt on 9/11, as well as our urgency to replace the World Trade Center with something more magnificent and richer in meaning. Anything less would mean the terrorists won, we said. The same drive to surpass the glory of Solomon’s Temple weighs heavily on Zerubabbel and the Jews. And given their primitive circumstances, I don’t believe we can begin to comprehend how overwhelmed Zerubabbel and the people must feel. Their entire land has been decimated. Their financial means and skill sets are woefully inadequate. What’s more, the young people Zerubabbel must rely on to do the hard labor never saw the first Temple. To a one, they were born after its destruction and it’s very possible that the will to see its resurrection through isn’t there.

To give us an idea of how long 70 years is, consider this: seven decades ago we were in the throes of World War Two. Now imagine we’d lost that war and spent 70 years under Nazi oppression. Could we possibly marshal our energy to restore our former glory? That’s what Zerubbabel is up against—with the added challenge of rebuilding the demolished Temple by hand. He feels powerless, totally incapable of the job he’s been given. And God’s answer to his long list of questions comes in ten soft-spoken words: “Not by might, nor by power, but by My Spirit.” If we were in Zerubabbel’s position, how would we respond? My best would be, “Okay… if You say so…”

Zechariah doesn’t chronicle Zerubabbel’s direct response to God’s message. But this we know. He and those working with him make astonishing progress in the Temple project. Although it takes many generations, glory returns to Mt. Zion. The second Temple becomes something far greater than the first: it’s a testament to God’s Spirit—not political might or human power. And it is this Temple where Jesus preaches, heals, and declares the New Order of God’s grace for all of humanity.

Our Life’s Work

To source timeless truth in biblical prophecy, we first liberate the text from its historical import so we can apply its principles to our lives and times. So we read Zechariah with eyes wide open for a word God would have us know today. To be sure, this text speaks broadly to all believers, promising eternal sustenance and restoration through God’s Spirit. But I would also encourage us to ponder it in the context of spiritual exile and reconstructing a Temple worthy of Isaiah 56—another post-Babylonian prophecy, which promises a place of welcome for outcasts and foreigners: “These I will bring to My holy mountain, and make them joyful in My house of prayer… for My house shall be called a house of prayer for all peoples.” (v7; emphasis added) Thus, this prophecy comes to everyone who’s been forced into exile by exclusionary doctrine, to those alienated by false doctrines of fear and condemnation, to every child of God who’s lost hope and weeps when recalling the towering promise of grace that once secured their trust in God’s Word. And it’s especially relevant to all of us who’ve heard God’s voice convene a great homecoming for every faith exile. The task of rebuilding a Church in ruins, a people ravaged by the deceit of sexism and homophobia and legalistic bullying, seems too enormous to undertake. Our first impulse leads us to assert power and amass force to complete the task. But God would say to us, “Not by might, nor by power, but by My Spirit.”

Reconstructing a Church that shines forth as hard proof of God’s faithfulness and the Spirit’s renewal will take a long, long time—in all probability, longer than any of us will live. Many of the returning exiles know nothing of the Church’s true significance as a homeland for their souls. To them, it’s just a fabled institution that’s fallen to corrupt powers. They look to Zion and all they see are crumbling reminders of broken ideals. We must speak this word to them—telling them that God’s Spirit transcends might and power, and God’s promises are eternally true. We are in the first stages of an historic homecoming that will triumph in the building of a House of Prayer for All Peoples. Every gender, orientation, ethnicity, class, and personal circumstance will be welcome. We who hear God’s voice and trust God’s Word must make this effort our life’s work. Progress will be slow, but providence will prevail. This is God’s promise to us. And it is true.

Though the task of rebuilding the Church into a House of Prayer for All Peoples is enormous, God promises we will succeed—not by might nor power, but by God’s Spirit.

Our Golden Opportunity

Pursue peace with everyone, and the holiness without which no one will see the Lord. See to it that no one fails to obtain the grace of God; that no root of bitterness springs up and causes trouble, and through it many become defiled. (Hebrews 12.14-15)

No Middle Ground

Three-and-a-half years ago, in the final, furious months of the 2008 US Presidential race, my parents sent me an email that opened the whole same-sex marriage can of worms and prompted a lengthy response in these pages (On Marriage, the Church, and the Nation). Although I continue to stand by much of what I said, my basic premise was deeply flawed and the tortured logic I used to support it severely misguided. In attempting to balance marriage as a sacrament with constitutionally guaranteed equality, I fell into a separate-but-equal trap that, despite using Jesus’s own words, reflected none of His teaching and character.


Trying to locate middle ground, I failed to acknowledge that Jesus never settles for middle ground. In every situation—including His marriage discussion in Matthew 19—Jesus always sides with those on the wrong side of disenfranchisement and loop-holing. Mosaic Law says the Messiah is God’s promise to the Jews; Jesus broadens the definition to include people of all ethnicities, classes, and religions. Mosaic Law commands that adulterers be stoned to death; Jesus pardons a woman caught in the very act and impeaches those who would punish her. Religious tradition castigates Samaritans as unfit outsiders; Jesus invites a Samaritan woman—one with a scandalous sexual history, no less—to experience new life.

Search the Scripture for precedents where Jesus defends inequality or settles for compromise. You won’t find one. Jesus views every situation where religious and legal customs categorize people as “other” as a prime opportunity to prove the power of God’s unconditional love, grace, and acceptance. Time and again He sidesteps legal quibbling to press higher principles. It’s never about Samaritans and lepers and adulterers and tax collectors and criminals; it’s always about removing barriers that deny them grace. There is no middle ground, no appeasement, no give and take. Those without receive. Those outside are welcomed in. And Jesus doesn’t get bogged down with defending why this must be, because His actions as God speak for God. And God says, “That’s how it is.”

An Unequaled Chance

Like millions, I was thrilled with President Obama’s declaration that legalizing same-sex marriage is the right thing to do. But while pundits and opponents wasted time trying to decipher political motives for his affirmation, I gloried in the reason he gave. “The thing at root that we think about is, not only Christ sacrificing Himself on our behalf, but it’s also the Golden Rule,” he told ABC’s Robin Roberts. “You know, treat others the way you want to be treated. And I think that’s what we try to impart to our kids, and that’s what motivates me as President.” It was so simple, so just, and so incontrovertibly correct.

It was a watershed in American politics—not as a policy statement or campaign strategy, but as an unabashed witness to Jesus’s life and teaching. It was the first time I ever recall a US President overtly leading us back to Christ in a way that purely reflects Christ’s principles. It instantly brought to mind Paul’s sterling statement in 1 Corinthians 11.1: “Be imitators of me, as I am of Christ.” I wanted to run up and down streets, ringing doorbells and shouting, “Our President just said, ‘Follow me, as I follow Christ!’”

Without besmirching the sincerity of believers and denominations currently opposed to marital equality, I would also challenge them to consider the golden opportunity they’re overlooking. History has presented them with an unequaled chance to witness the radical grace Jesus embodied—to surrender their cloaks and their shirts, as Jesus teaches, to travel a second mile when asked to walk one, to go beyond what’s asked of them and do what’s required of anyone claiming Jesus as his/her Leader.


From Within

To follow Christ in every way is by its very nature an act of faith because it constrains us to abandon what we think is right in order to do what Jesus says is right. It is not easy by design, as it expects us to live out God’s grace in a very particular, completely selfless way. And this is especially difficult for people who confuse the inhabited (and habitual) faithfulness Jesus demands with behavioral codes that divide “insiders” from “outsiders” and “us” from the “other.” They look to external structures and arbitrary rules to define their beliefs, never realizing that faith is witnessed from within. Faith transforms a subjective experience with God into an objective expression of God’s presence in the world. It exchanges seeking divine approval for trusting divine acceptance. It gives without hope of reward. It exalts without regard to presumed status or worth. It ignores what we see in others to evidence what God wants others to see in us.

Resisting the rigors of faithfulness is hardly a modern phenomenon. Indeed, the challenges of faithful living are so daunting for the Early Church that they become the central topic of virtually every epistle in the New Testament. And nowhere is this more pronounced than in the Hebrews letter, where the writer takes extraordinary measures to free Jewish Christians from reliance on legalism and religiosity so that they can actualize genuine faith. “This is a new and living way,” Hebrews 10.20 proclaims (emphasis added), pointing to a faith that sheds obsolete attitudes and evolves in response to its surroundings. It is a faith primed for opportunities to witness God’s unfettered love, grace, and acceptance. It is a faith whose only standard is built on compassion, tolerance, and equality.

In Hebrews 12.14 and 15 we read, “Pursue peace with everyone, and the holiness without which no one will see the Lord. See to it that no one fails to obtain the grace of God; that no root of bitterness springs up and causes trouble, and through it many become defiled.” Peace with everyone—not a select few whose beliefs and morals align with our own. Holiness that reveals God at work in us. Ensure that no one is denied God’s grace. Don’t cultivate bitterness and trouble that defile our witness. It is a teaching that compels us to look beyond ourselves to find a better, new, and living way.

All Aboard!

Dietrich Bonhoeffer, the great theologian, martyr, and perhaps the 20^th century’s clearest voice of discipleship, wrote, “If you board the wrong train it is no use running down the corridor in the opposite direction.” At the time, he was warning German Christians not to bend to anti-Semitic pressures from pro-Nazi religious and civic leaders. American Christians are handed a nearly identical choice with the marital debate. It asks us to forego religious dogma and personal comfort for the sake of the oppressed and disenfranchised. In the wake of President Obama’s affirmation, all but a very few conceded he was on “the right side of history.” But it’s bigger—much bigger—than that. What we’ve just seen is the temerity of one believer to board the right train. May every believer in this nation follow him, as he follows Christ. May all disciples of Christ come to their senses, get on the right train, and join a deafening chorus of “All aboard!”

The marital equality debate presents a golden opportunity for all believers to become living witnesses to the magnitude of God’s grace.


Podcast link: http://straightfriendly.podbean.com/2012/05/12/our-golden-opportunity/

March and Shout

As soon as the people heard the sound of the trumpets, they raised a great shout, and the wall fell down flat; so the people charged straight ahead into the city and captured it. (Joshua 6.20)

Some Parades Aren’t for Watching

For years, Walt and I scheduled an annual vacation in Paris for the Fête de la Musique, a dusk-to-dawn revel unlike any in the world. One year, Paris’s Fête du Pride—the LGBT celebration held the last Saturday in June—fell four days after the Fête de la Musique. Knowing Paris, we knew it would be big and didn’t want to miss a beat. We dropped in on a friend who’d spent a lot of time in New York. “Where’s the best place to watch the parade?” we asked. He wasn’t sure what we meant. Assuming our French was off, we rephrased the question. He still wasn’t clear. As a last resort, we tried English. “Ah,” he replied with a wry smile. “It’s not a parade one watches; it’s a march one joins in solidarity of purpose—to demand equality for all. Naturally, there will be music and dancing and costumes. But the march is more than that. It’s for everyone and everyone participates. You’ll see.” And so we did. As the route turned into the Place de la Bastille, the boulevard leading to the Place de la Republique—the final destination—overflowed with half a million people marching (many with distinctive flair) for LGBT equality.

Some parades aren’t for watching. They must be joined—if not physically, in spirit. This holds for any parade that celebrates minorities and movements, as its primary goal is demonstrating solidarity of purpose. Along with marking the community’s proud heritage, longevity, and progress, a yearning to overcome still greater barriers surges beneath the jubilance. Aside from displaying collective strength, the mobility touches a primal nerve. It says, “We’re not satisfied yet. We won’t stand still or be silent until every impediment raised against us is removed. As long as one of us is unjustly held back, we’ll march ahead as one.” Sideline viewing won’t get you there. Nor, as Israel’s legendary conquest of Jericho teaches, will relying on the kindness of strangers. As they say, you gotta be in it to win it.

A Place Belonging to Them

To date, archeologists have unearthed just enough evidence to support pro and con cases for Joshua 6’s version of Jericho’s fall. Some scholars defend its historical veracity; others theorize Joshua’s author reframes the conquest as metaphor to emphasize the miraculous nature of actual events. Read literally or metaphorically, the message is the same: God delivers on the promise that Israel will have a land of its own. And noting a few known facts about Jericho while revisiting the legend greatly amplifies its meaning and relevance.

Jericho is at its pinnacle when Israel arrives (ca. 1550 BCE). While it’s too soon in the human saga to call it a “major metropolis”—it covers eight square acres—it’s a renowned manufacturing and trade center. Compared to nomadic peoples like Israel, its citizens, politics, and culture are highly advanced. Furthermore, Jericho’s commercial eye looks favorably on foreign artisans and laborers. Few cities match its expansive capability to assimilate and accommodate outsiders. These and other factors make Jericho an open city—except when outside threats arise. Then, its gates slam shut and its fate hangs on walls said to be the strongest of their time.

So, realistically, the Israelites have an option. Instead of mounting a full-frontal attack, they can systematically occupy Jericho in waves, like other immigrant groups have done. And they know this, as two spies Joshua dispatches to survey the city in advance enter and move about it freely. (Only when their mission comes to light do they encounter hostility.) Yet Israel also recognizes stealthy integration isn’t enough. God promises much more than a place for them to “belong.” No, God promises the Israelites a place belonging to them—where their voice matters, their views carry weight, and they’re entitled to shape their destiny. Before Jericho and the adjacent Canaanite territory can truly be The Promised Land, every barrier relegating Israel to second-class status must topple. Strolling into town, settling down quietly, and hoping for change won’t change anything. (It will be Egypt redux—less traumatic, perhaps, but a backward step all the same, since they’ll lose autonomy gained in the desert.) When change needs to happen, walls need to fall. And when walls need to fall, it’s time to do exactly as God instructs Israel: march and shout.

Circus Act

Over-familiarity with the story leads us to discount how peculiar God’s strategy must sound to Israel and how strange its execution must look to Jericho. Word of potential military assault puts the city on lockdown. Defensive troops stand watch on the walls. When the Israelites are first sighted marching toward Jericho, their armed guard leads the way. As they get closer, though, things get weirder. Seven trumpeters decked out in priestly regalia follow the guard, and behind them seven more priests haul some sort of fancy box. (Canaanite ignorance of Israelite culture keeps them from recognizing the Ark of the Covenant—the vehicle expressly designed to transport the nation’s most sacred relics to The Promised Land.) As for the army, well, it’s definitely irregular. Even at a distance, it’s plainly sub-standard. Its weapons are crude. Its uniforms (or lack of them) aren’t presentable. And it obviously could use some discipline.

By the time Israel reaches Jericho’s perimeter, it’s a joke. The city watches in befuddlement, wondering what this circus act means. The Israelites make a lot of racket while parading once around the walls. Then they go home. They repeat the march for six days. Day Seven’s parade runs longer. The Israelites make seven laps around Jericho. Just when the march starts to wind down, the trumpeters sound a blast and the army yells at the top of its lungs. The rest is history—or, if you prefer, legend.

People of the Promise

This weekend, cities around the world will commemorate the birth of the LGBT equality movement 32 years ago, when a handful of irregular-looking patrons of a tiny New York City bar decided intolerance no longer could be tolerated. Just as Israel’s rebellion against Pharaoh triggered an onslaught of chaos and violence, the 1969 Stonewall uprising sparked a series of riots that shook the world. Gay communities everywhere united, instinctively marching out of our Egypt, where we’d been held captive and forced to live persona non grata in service to oppressive powers. The heady pursuit of freedom and equality set us down the path Israel followed: we abused our liberty by shrugging off responsibilities to safeguard our health and welfare. Urgent threats to our survival disoriented us. For the more than a decade it felt like we’d lost our bearings in a wilderness of death and disease. The desert’s crises muted our exuberance, but we kept marching. While adversaries sat on their hands and jeered at our distress, our persistence prevailed. Allies from everywhere joined our march. With their help, by God’s providence, each step brought us nearer to our Promised Land.

So where are we? I believe we’ve crossed the Jordan. Where we live now looks nothing like where we left. During our wilderness ordeal, God prospered the place promised to us, enlightening its people to the advantages of tolerance and equality. Yet we mustn’t mistake the hospitality and kindness of strangers for an acceptable option. Strolling through open gates, settling down quietly, and hoping for change won’t change our being viewed apart from the majority. Our 32-year journey brings us to Jericho, the last bastion of impediments between the promise and us. We haven’t come this far to compromise. A place where we can belong is a far cry from a place belonging to us, where our voices, wishes, and self-determination inform the world we live in and future we shape for generations to come. Equality isn’t real until all things are equal. Freedom is an illusion if one of us isn’t free.

As people of the promise—gay and straight, young and old—we will march and shout until every wall crumbles in every corner of the world. We will remain mindful that, right now, millions of LGBT sisters and brothers in Asia, Africa, Eastern Europe, and the Caribbean have only begun their march. For those held captive to fear of death, violence, and political reprisal, the Promised Land is a flickering dream. Even we who live in more advanced societies face allegedly unconquerable barriers of indoctrinated prejudice, legalized injustice, and institutional indifference. This has to change for good. When change needs to happen, walls need to fall. When walls need to fall, we march and shout.

For the Record

This weekend, and every time LGBT people and their allies—as well as every other minority and movement—take to the streets, we remember some parades aren’t for watching. Christ’s command to love our Creator and neighbors compels us to join their march, in spirit or, if possible, in person. The Bible’s constant entreaty to defend the widow, care for the orphan, and welcome the stranger calls us to respond.

And, for the record, we know how weird and weak we look to gatekeepers and watchers on the walls. We realize ignorance of what our bizarre dress and behavior signifies blinds them to power we possess. It’s okay if they regard us as no more than a noisy circus act. Every march is one more lap around the walls. Every shout rattles their foundations.

Joshua 6.20 reads, “As soon as the people heard the sound of the trumpets, they raised a great shout, and the wall fell down flat; so the people charged straight ahead into the city and captured it.” Though it looks and feels like we’re walking in circles, we’re privy to the plan. Day Seven is coming. Remaining bastions of inequality and exclusion will fall. What’s promised will belong to us at last.

We may look weird and weak, our dress and behavior may seem bizarre, and our marches and shouts may appear futile. But we’re privy to the plan. Day Seven is coming.

Postscript: Much to Be Thankful For

By design, Straight-Friendly was launched on June 29, 2008 to coincide with the Stonewall anniversary, hoping to underscore LGBT right of Christian inclusion as both a spiritual and social mandate. Thus, this weekend also celebrates our third year together. And what a magnificent journey it’s been!

There’s much to be thankful for. First and foremost, I lift a heart of gratitude to God, Whose gentle love and abiding presence sustain this place, to Jesus Christ, Whose teaching and example are its bedrock, and to the Holy Spirit, Whose guidance and instruction steady its course. And then there are all of you, who’ve so generously embraced, nurtured, and blessed Straight-Friendly with your love, wisdom, joy, and strength of character. I’m humbled beyond measure that you would claim me as your brother—and thrilled beyond compare to count everyone who gathers here, seen and unseen, as true friends. May God richly reward the faithfulness and kindness you’ve showered on S-F, its readers, and me as we continue marching ahead.

Happy Anniversary!

Softies

Do not be deceived: Neither the sexually immoral nor idolaters nor adulterers nor men who have sex with men nor thieves nor the greedy nor drunkards nor slanderers nor swindlers will inherit the kingdom of God (1 Corinthians 6.9-10)

The Guy-Girl Thing

Every blue moon, a poll comes out asking people of same-sex orientation, “What’s the most annoying question you get asked about being gay?” I don’t know why pollsters persist in harping on this, because the results never change. The runaway winner is always, “Who’s the guy and who’s the girl?” The best response, of course, should be, “We’re both women” or, “We’re both men”—or, better yet, “We’re two people.” But that doesn’t answer the real question, which has little to no interest in how traditional male and female roles play out in same-sex attraction, dating, and unions. The guy-girl thing is open code for curiosity about what happens in bed.

Beyond the question’s offensive breach of privacy and implication the inferiority of same-sex intimacy requires mimicking opposite-sex dynamics, it’s also exasperating for its assumption that all relationships, straight or gay, operate on gender-defined entitlements and inequities. (Perhaps the best response would be asking the inquirer to define "the guy's role" and "the girl's role.") Indeed, the guy-girl gay cliché should be trashed along with crude straight ones like “who wears the pants in the family,” “the man is the breadwinner,” and “a woman’s place is in the home.” Yet, while banishing these and similarly sexist syllogisms from common conversation is a good start, it's far from a conclusive remedy. And honestly, I’m not sure one exists. The guy-girl thing—like the race thing and class thing—is so profoundly imbedded in the collective psyche that eliminating male-dominant/female-subservient, active-passive language and stereotypes from the culture may change conscious behavior (a necessity) without making the slightest dent on primal mindset and instinct (a tragedy).

Stamped into Our Assumptions

No better proof exists of how wretchedly the “me-Tarzan-you-Jane” gender bias dogs our species than what we find in gay life. For, while we take great umbrage at the guy-girl question (and rightly so), we’ve also embraced and codified it to the point it’s become central to our individual identities. Go to a male-for-male dating site; before opening candidates’ profiles, you’ll find four bits of info beneath their photos: name, age, location, and preferred role—“top” (active), “bottom” (passive), or “versatile” (both). Gay men and women casually discuss one another’s sexual disposition as “butch” or “femme.” Many have no compunction about transposing gender pronouns as a “between-us” slur—more often than not, an allegedly friendly one!—calling him “her” and she “he.” That nothing annoys us more than being asked the guy-girl question while we’re comfortable adopting its premise as cultural shorthand boggles the mind.

Of course, we see similar paradoxes in other minorities that attempt to deflect disparaging terms and stereotypes by “owning them;” why that is, however, is a conversation for another time. The point to draw for our current discussion is this. The guy-girl thing, with all its nasty undercurrents, is so pervasively stamped into our assumptions about gender and sexuality it’s inescapable. It’s been with us since the dawn of time and colors how we perceive the world, the way it works, and one another. Thus, when we open Scripture to texts dealing with sexuality of any kind, we’re wise to read them through the guy-girl filter, to hear the cultural and religious understanding with which they were originally written and received. Then, as believers who’ve been spiritually and socially enlightened to the myths and injustices of gender inequality, we’re irresponsible not to confess many texts regularly abused to condemn homosexuality ultimately endorse and perpetuate oppression of all women as naturally subservient and passive, intrinsically less than men.

Slang and Coinage

“Softies” is the word Paul uses in 1 Corinthians 6.9-10, though not directly applying it women. Instead, he employs the term’s common usage in his day—as slang for male temple prostitutes who take the passive position in pagan same-gender sex rites. “Do not be deceived,” he writes. “Neither the sexually immoral nor idolaters nor adulterers nor men who have sex with men nor thieves nor the greedy nor drunkards nor slanderers nor swindlers will inherit the kingdom of God.” Paul’s phraseology, “men who have sex with men,” bears notice, as when we check the original Greek text, he uses two different words: arsenokoitai for the former and malakoi for the latter. Both terms are problematic for different reasons that lead to the same conclusion.

Arsenokoitai appears to be coined by Paul. No evidence of its usage prior to this writing (ca. 55 CE) has been found, nor is it seen in texts of any kind during or immediately after Paul’s lifetime. The word is only found in one other New Testament book, 1 Timothy (1.10)—which most scholars date as a second-century epistle written in Paul’s name and may account for the word’s usage, as well as the verse’s fairly close replication of the Corinthian text. Although it’s possible that arsenokoitai, like malakoi, is first-century, gay-related slang, its absence from literature at the time suggests not. Thus we have two methods for decoding Paul’s euphemism, and which we choose starkly alters how we interpret the text.

Method One: we extrapolate Paul’s meaning by assessing his intentions in light of the context—the preferred method for interpreting Scripture when the original text can be confidently translated. In this case, the preceding list of behaviors Paul typically attributes to pagan cultures (sexual immorality, idolatry, and adultery) coupled with the subsequent reference to pagan male prostitutes would invite us to assume arsenokoitai is Paul’s term for “homosexual.” This would lend credibility, without indubitably confirming, the passage might mean what some believe it does. Method Two: we break the word down, as we would any compound word (which is what arsenokoitai is) and look at its parts to derive a clearer definition. If Paul intentionally combines words to characterize the persons he’s describing, the term becomes very specific. Paul links arsen (“male,” singular/neuter), o (masculine definitive article, like “el” in Spanish), and koitai (“beds, or places where coitus occurs,” feminine/plural). Literally translated, it would mean “the man in women’s beds”—a virulently sexist insult, since ancient women are summoned from their beds to the man’s bed to serve his sexual needs. To visit a lady’s bedchamber and request her favors would be the height of masculine indignity.

Regardless which method we use, it’s obvious breakdown of gender roles is what convinces Paul the acts he decries—whatever they are, as we can't be certain due to his coinage—are unnatural. Confidence this is a guy-girl thing and not to be misconstrued as condemnation of guy-guy and girl-girl things rests in the second “men,” whom Paul portrays with the Greek adjective for “soft” or “fancy” (malakoi). Matthew and Luke use the singular form to describe “fine” clothing, and, in Corinth, it’s a familiar appellation for male sex workers in pagan temples. These men, respected as professionals serving a religious function, only make themselves available for same-gender rituals. They aren’t “rent boys” men summon to fulfill their homoerotic desires. Sex with malakoi happens in their temple chambers, in their beds, according to ritually prescribed terms. While they assume the sexually passive role—which Paul clearly loathes, as it’s the “woman’s job”—that arsenokoitai must go to them and follow their protocol is equally reprehensible.

Diminishing Half of Humanity

The inference is undeniable. Paul reviles the practice because, in service to idols, men debase other men and consent to debasement as women. To put it bluntly, in Paul’s mind and ancient Jewish culture, men are naturally active tops, women are naturally passive bottoms, and anything that varies from his paradigm—whether in same-sex or opposite-sex settings—is unnatural. That places those who accept the text as bona fide condemnation of homosexuality in the dubious position of legitimizing its obsolete view of women as “softies,” inferior creatures of convenience bound to please men on demand with no right of initiative on their own behalf. And sadly, many who embrace 1 Corinthians 6.9’s anti-gay reading find nothing repugnant about its inherently sexist stance. But we who believe Jesus’s teaching and example support gender equality cannot submit to Paul’s rationale. It’s an anachronism, the artifact of a primitive, patriarchal culture, and therefore untrustworthy as doctrine. This would be so even if the reading were not crippled by conjecture, as subjugation of women rests at its core. No scripture—whatever its purported purpose—diminishing half of humanity as naturally inferior can be countenanced. Female and male, we are all created in God’s image and likeness. To legitimize a text that dishonors women is tantamount to doubting God and God’s Word. Constructing doctrine on it—one that promotes condemnation, inequality, and exclusion, no less—teeters (at the very least) on blasphemy.

So we say of those comfortable in taking such risks with 1 Corinthians 6.9 what we’ve said of others who perform similar injustices with previously discussed clobber texts: they need our compassion and prayers.

First Corinthians 6.9, like many of the clobber texts, loses its doctrinal validity not merely for its purported anti-gay views, but because it bases its stance on the assumption women are naturally inferior to men.

Postscript: The Translation Saga

For centuries, translation issues with 1 Corinthians 6.9 have presented an ongoing challenge for scholars and theologians. On balance, the current belief it has something to do with same-gender sex is relatively recent, having first surfaced in the King James Version (1611). Prior to that, the fifth-century Latin Vulgate—on which the KJV heavily relies—translated arsenokoitai as adulteri ("adulterers"; feminine, plural), which echoes the male plural earlier in the verse, possibly to indicate the usage of “women’s beds.” Regarding malakoi, the Vulgate uses mollibus (“luxurious” or “effeminate”) for Matthew and Luke’s description of “fine clothing.” But it uses idolis servientes (“idol slaves”) in Corinthians—a decidedly gender-neutral translation. Given the Vulgate’s closer proximity to Paul’s time, we’re tempted to suppose it’s more accurate; yet four centuries in real time aren’t as close as they look on a 2,000-year timeline. So that’s also a shaky proposition.

The KJV’s handling of malakoi radically departs from the Vulgate, which raises questions about its agenda. It simplifies Matthew and Luke’s usage to “soft," yet pointedly replaces the Vulgate’s “idol slaves” with “effeminate.” Its handling of arsenokoitai is even more curious. It reads, “abusers of themselves with mankind,” a strangely self-contained phrase that disconnects the “men with men” linkage to suggest Paul’s talking about two different groups, not two types of men engaged in mutual acts. (This confusion apparently is somehow tied to 16^th and 17^th-century mores, as Martin Luther interprets arsenokoitai to mean “men who masturbate”!) Some historians have tried to connect the KJV’s overt amplification of gay-slanted texts to the theory King James I was homosexual. If this is so, the KJV distorts the original texts to confirm its patron’s self-loathing and fear—a strange, but not unheard-of, response for personally troubled church leaders.

Modern translations either tend to back off, choosing more generic terminology like “men who have sex with men” and “homosexual offenders” or buckle to the KJV with “sodomites”—none of which gets any closer to solving the riddle of Paul’s intended meaning, and hence offers theologians (or us) not the least bit of help in grasping his original point.