Should Gays and Lesbians Argue Scripture? A Dialogue


  • Leviticus 19:34, San Francisco, 2008. Image courtesy flickr user bastille

  • It is tough, lonely, and occasionally dangerous to be an LGBT religious activist. Fellow queers think you’re an apologist for an oppressive system, or that you haven’t yet gotten over your guilt about being gay. Religious people think you’re nuts, or evil, or worse. And you have to be told, time and time again, that your love for your partner, lover, or friend is no different from someone’s lust for a sheep. I think our work is saving the world, but it definitely sucks at times.
    Rev. Candace Chellew-Hodge, a regular contributor to this journal, has been
     one of the few activists to “heal the healer,” as it were. Her book,
    Bulletproof Faith, is an invaluable guide to queer folks and allies who,
     perhaps unwittingly, find themselves on the front line of religious
     arguments about sexuality and gender. From meditation instructions to
    old-fashioned encouragement, Bulletproof Faith is a treasure.
    Recently, on The Huffington Post, Rev. Chellew-Hodge suggested that gays
     and lesbians should never argue scripture—in particular, the half dozen
     “clobber verses” that some people interpret against gays. Why? Because
    nobody wins, everyone’s opinion hardens, and we talk past each other,
    because gays and lesbians are usually not biblical literalists, while our
     opponents usually are. Most importantly, she wrote, “the Bible has nothing
    much to say about homosexuality,” which after all is a modern concept
    not known to the pre-modern men who wrote the Bible—men who also
    believed that the earth was flat and that women were property.    
    Chellew-Hodge’s suggestion sounds wise, but I want to respectfully disagree
    with it. I think we can make progress by talking about Scripture, even if we
     adopt a literalist perspective for the sake of argument. (For what it’s worth,
     my new book, coming out in October—God vs. Gay? The Religious Case
     for Equality—does just that. So I’m a little invested in the idea.)      
    First, we don’t need to “win” on the clobber verses—we need to tie. I agree
     that nobody will ever “win” on the definitive reading of Romans 1:26. However,
     many LGBT people (and allies) have put forth plausible, close readings of it,
    as well as Leviticus 18:22 and 1 Corinthians 6:9. (It’s scary that I know these
    citations by heart.) Not by explaining them away on context, or ascribing them
    to a limited human perspective, but by looking closely at words like toevah
     (“abomination,” but really “taboo”) andpara physin (“unnatural,” but not in
    anything like a scientific sense). On these micro-points, some of which I’ve
    discussed here,on RD, our readings are as good as theirs, if not better.      
    So then a dilemma arises. When faced with two equally coherent interpretations
    of biblical verses, what do we do? Well, we have to turn to our fundamental values
     and ask which reading makes sense in light of those values. By way of analogy,
    “thou shalt not kill” seems to admit of no exceptions—and yet, obviously it does,
     because other biblical verses discuss the law of war. So we resolve the ambiguity
     in one verse by looking at other ones.   
    And this is where our tie turns into a win. Unless the very existence of sexual
    diversity is denied, the anti-gay readings of the clobber verses raise a lot of
     problems. How can we square our value that “it is not good to be alone” with
    a demand that all gay people be celibate for life? How can we reconcile our
    values of fairness and justice with penalizing people for an involuntary trait?
     (Of course, not every queer person experiences sexuality this way, but some
     do.) It’s a mess.     
    On the other hand, if we read the clobber verses narrowly, none of these
     problems arise. Thus, between two equally valid readings, the one that maintains
    our fundamental values of love, companionship, fairness, justice, honesty,
    and human dignity wins.
    Is this too abstruse for arguing around the dinner table? I don’t think so.
    Most folks still believe that the Bible speaks clearly and unambiguously
    about homosexuality. Where they disagree is in what to do about it. But the
     Bible doesn’t speak clearly and unambiguously—quite the contrary.
     And we need to make that clear.        
    Chellew-Hodge’s program hangs our religious hopes on literalists changing
    into non-literalists. Now, I wouldn’t mind if that happened, but it’s a tall order—
    more like a miracle. Folks have deep-seated reasons for their commitments
     to biblical inerrancy; deeper than their love for their own children. As religious
     progressives and advocates for equality, we can’t hang our hopes on divesting
    people of this belief. We can do better—not because literalism is right, but
     because we don’t need it to be wrong.
    In contrast, my approach only requires that people admit that there is a lot
     more unclarity in the clobber verses than they previously thought. From there,
     we’re on home turf. Then we can have the real conversation: how God’s
     grace operates in the lives of LGBT people, how gay and lesbian love is
     a path to holiness. Then we can testify to the truth of LGBT experience:
     that sexual diversity does exist. Then we can speak from our own experience,
     our own witness.
    But first we have to crack the false façade of biblical unambiguity.
    I am convinced that we can open that crack, on the face of the biblical text itself,
     and that when we do so, the light will come in.
    By JAY MICHAELSON AND CANDACE CHELLEW-HODGE
    http://www.religiondispatches.org

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