Saturday, August 1, 2020

Thoughts on Queer Prophets



One of the things which is rending the church (or churches) asunder at the moment is a long, slow crisis over human sexuality. I am sure that the basic issues are widely known, so I do not intend to rehearse them now. Let it just be said whether you regard some Biblical texts as authoritative in banning any sort of sexual activity except that between a married man and woman, or whether you regard these verses (there are usually counted to be about five of them, apparently) as ‘texts of terror’ used to oppress anyone who seems a little different is hopefully not the issue here.


The problem is that the two sides, and anyone caught in the middle, have tended to talk past each other. Or rather, perhaps, the problem is that there has simply been too much talking and not enough listening. The stories told in this book:


Hunt, R., ed. The Book of Queer Prophets (London: Collins, 2020)


are as painful as they are depressingly familiar. People brought up, many of them in Christian households feeling that they cannot or do not belong in church or churches. In some cases church communities have made it clear that they do not wish for the ministry of LGBTAI+ clergy, or at least that some elements of congregations are prepared to go to some lengths to drive such clergy away. In other cases people, often quite young, have felt themselves to be different and have felt unable to reconcile that with their faith (in the book, that is mostly Christian, but Muslim, Mormon and Jew do get looks in). The result, in too many cases, has been mental breakdown, loss of faith, or a gritty determination to carry on regardless of the hate expressed towards them by some, and the apathy, or at best neutral benevolence, expressed by others.


There are two things I want to say here. Firstly, I am a happily married white middle-class man, who happens to be a Reader in the Church of England. My understanding of a black lesbian’s experience of church has to be limited. Many people’s, including mine, reactions to homosexual sex acts is probably ‘yuck’. Mind you, I have a similar reaction to observing sexual activity (or whatever gender the participants happen to be) in films or on television a bit difficult to watch, and I tend to avoid such programs. But I do think we have to get past the Yuck factor. Homosexual sex exists, people participate in it and enjoy it, and are in love with their partners. Rather than wringing our hands and attempting to ignore the existence of such sex, we do need to accept that it does happen and there are people in the church engaging in it.


Secondly, going back to the point of people talking past each other, we have to engage with what people we disagree with actually say. It is, I think, far too easy to ignore, for example, books such as Queer Prophets and fail to engage with the pain that many of the authors express. Human pain is pain we can all understand; we have all suffered from it.


On the other hand it is also easy to ignore the other side. There are deep-seated cultural, political, ecclesiastical and exegetical beliefs which do need engaging with. How did the texts of terror become texts of terror? How come some of them have become less so? How, historically, has the church overcome some of its prejudices, without necessarily simply lying down and agreeing with the zeitgeist?


It does strike me that, having read a bit (not, I admit, extensively) of writing from both sides on the matter, I think the general level of theological discourse across the board is rather poor. There are honourable exceptions. Bohache, T., Christology from the Margins (London: SCM, 2008) is rather good, as I recall, at least covering the ground of Christology and sexuality. I cannot say I agree or even understand all the Christologies described in the book, but at least it engages. Similarly, again as I recall, Guest, D., When Deborah Met Jael: Lesbian Biblical Hermeneutics (London: SCM, 2005) does what it says on the tin.


On the other hand, the statement of the more Biblical Evangelical camp are rather poor. The worst offender that I have read is Davie, M., Glorify God in Your Body (London: Lost Coin, 2018), which is an embarrassing shambles of a book, apparently commended by the Church of England Evangelical Council (CEEC) as a resource for the ‘Living in Love and Faith’ project. In common with some books on the ‘other’ side of the debate, it simply should be hurled forcibly across the room and ignored by anyone with half a brain and access to a decent commentary. They can’t even do the referencing right.


I suppose that, as with education, everyone has a view of human sexuality. Most adults, from time to time in whatever way, indulge in sexual activity. Some, of course, have fantasies, and that can become a problem (often known as pornography), some people’s activities are not to their own or other people’s advantage. But most of us know something about it and therefore have something to say. The problem there, of course, is that the marketplace gets rather crowded, the voices become too many and too loud to be heard.


This seems to be where the churches are found at present. The hierarchies might line up on one side or the other over issues of sexuality, whether women can be priests, or whether gay men should be permitted in church if they have a partner. In the Church of England, we have indulged in creative fudges, from ‘don’t ask’ when people offer for ministry to arguments that the clergy can be homosexual as long as they are celibate, while it is all right for laypeople. Creative fudges, of course, have their place, but sooner or later the fudge becomes hard to maintain. Perhaps we are moving towards that point.



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