Category Archives: Book reviews

Willard M. Swartley. Homosexuality

Willard M. Swartley. Homosexuality: Biblical Interpretation and Moral Discernment (Herald Press, 2003)

[Review written in 2003; a shorter version was published in Dreamseeker Magazine (Spring, 2004)]

I have a dear friend, a lifelong Mennonite, grandparent of teen-agers.  My friend despairs for the future of the Mennonite Church USA.  “We have to learn to talk with each other,” he says.  He fears that various segments of the church are like a group of boats on a river during a heavy fog who do not realize how far they are drifting apart.

Since 1985, when the Mennonite Church and the General Conference Mennonite Church jointly published a study book, Human Sexuality in the Christian Life, official church publishers and agencies have provided little material in service of the kind of conversation my friend hopes for – hence his fear that should we ever begin such a conversation under MC USA auspices, we will find our various “boats” far apart indeed.

I hope my friend is pleased that Herald Press has published Homosexuality: Biblical Interpretation and Moral Discernment.  The author, Willard M. Swartley, Professor of New Testament at Associated Mennonite Biblical Seminary, has been widely cited as Mennonites’ foremost New Testament scholar.

A blurb on the book’s back cover from Conrad Grebel University College’s president Henry Paetkau, lauds the book as a resource that “can facilitate informed discussion and debate.”  In his preface, Swartley states he is offering the book as “a resource for ongoing discernment.”

I hope my friend receives this book as a an invitation from a church leader and the church’s publishing house for needed conversation – and a substantial contribution to such conversation.

Swartley implies in the preface that he is offering such an invitation.  He writes that we in the Mennonite Church today need “discernment on an understanding of biblical authority, assessment of the exegesis and hermeneutics on this issue, and a moral assessment of our western culture.  I too sit at the table of discernment to listen to how others perceive the crucial issues in this debate.  On these matters we need to respectfully engage each other in ongoing discussion” (p.11).

Swartley provides by far the most extensive published discussion of biblical, theological, and cultural issues related to the “homosexuality issue” that any Mennonite scholar has yet produced.  And, most helpfully for the sake of Mennonite conversations, he continually references the Mennonite context and interacts with many of the (briefer) extant Mennonite writings on the issues by others.

 

Swartley’s Argument

Swartley certainly provides material for discussion.  In his introductory chapter he provides a clear sense of his perspective.  He asserts that unlike issues he has written on previously (such as war, male/female relationships, and slavery), with homosexuality there is clarity and uniformity in the biblical witness that do not allow for movement away from a more “status quo” view towards a more “liberative” view.

In Swartley’s view, the Bible gives direct support for the claim that in relation to slavery, war, and gender relations, “God’s way is different, liberating and loving, replacing dominion and self-defensiveness with mutuality and trust.”  With homosexuality, the biblical focus is different.  “Homosexual practice is not related to grace-energized behavior in a single text” (p.18).  For Swartley, the Bible gives us grounds to challenge long-held Christian practices concerning slavery, war, and sexism; the Bible does not give us such grounds in relation to homosexuality.

After giving his rationale for affirming a high view of biblical authority and consequently seeing biblical reflection as central for how the church approaches these issues, Swartley adds that cultural analysis is also a crucial component.  He believes “the sexual revolution of the 1960s” is the crucial event that has created pressures on the church to weaken its longterm rejection of the legitimacy of same-sex intimate relationships.

Swartley notes there are many theories regarding the origin of same-sex attraction.  “The sexual revolution of the 1960s is most significant because it redefined sexual mores for the society.  As a result, the west has developed a sexualized culture, which despite the glamorous face the culture attaches to sex is often productive of sexual abuse in the home or school.  Such abuse is a key factor in influencing later sexual development and capacity for expression.  If it is true that our societal culture is a determinative factor, we must then, perhaps, regard homosexual persons (gays and lesbians) as, in part at least, products of societal cultural forces they did not choose.  This does not mean resignation to these forces, but an acknowledgment that we are dealing not with individual persons, but also with cultural systems that work against God’s pattern for human life” (pp. 23-24).

What follows are three chapters focused on biblical materials.  Swartley provides a thorough introduction to many of the scholarly currents swirling around interpretations of the Bible’s teaching on sexuality – firmly siding with those who see a clear and uncompromising stance in the Bible “against same-sex genital practices.”

Chapter two draws on materials mostly from the Old Testament.  The three main points Swartley draws from the Old Testament are: (1) Genesis one portrays God’s intention with creation being that sexuality is a good gift, with great power and subject to misuse (pp.27-28).  The only appropriate context for sexual intercourse is male/female marriage.

(2) The story of Sodom and Gomorrah is rightly understood as focusing on threatened rape as an expression of inhospitality, not on “loving homosexual relations.”  Nonetheless, it is significant that in Genesis 19 and Judges 19 “it is precisely (homo)sexual lust that precludes hospitality” (pp.31-32).

(3) Leviticus 18:22 and 20:13 regard same-sex relations as an abomination in the same category as idolatry and child-sacrifice (p.33).  “The fact that same-sex male relations and Molech worship, which involved sacrificing offspring, are linked may be ‘telling’ of the seriousness of the same-sex offense” (p.35).

In chapter three, while acknowledging that Jesus did not overtly speak of homosexuality, Swartley draws eight points from Jesus’ teaching that are relevant for our ethical discernment.  He believes that Jesus combines a commitment to holiness (e.g., a condemnation of porneia [“fornication,” defined by Swartley as “as sexual genital relations outside heterosexual marriage,” p.40]) with mercy (e.g., be loving toward even those you must critique for transgressing holiness requirements, p.47).

Chapter four focuses on Paul, especially the key texts Romans 1:24-27 and 1 Corinthians 6:9.  Swartley proposes that the Romans passage is particularly important because it links same-sex practices with idolatry – a rejection of the God-ordered normativity of heterosexuality.  He understands 1 Corinthians 6:9 in the context of Paul’s concern with sexual libertinism that is reflected in 1 Corinthians 5 and the critique porneia (“fornication”).  Swartley concludes, “what was wrong, first and foremost, for Paul in the case of same-sex intercourse was the fact that the participants were members of the same sex rather than the opposite sex” (p.70).

Swartley then sketches an “analysis of contemporary western culture,” attempting to situate the recent emergence of movements favoring the acceptance of same-sex intimacy in the context of modern cultural dynamics, with a large weight of responsibility resting on the legacy of Enlightenment philosophy.

At one point he lists what he understands to be factors (many cultural) that contribute to people desiring same-sex intimacy: use of mind-altering drugs; influence of theater, film, and pornography; being in situations (such as prison) where one is forced into homosexual practice; psychological development issues between parent and child; disappointment over a failed heterosexual relationship; result of sexual abuse during childhood; compensation for loneliness and need for intimacy; and lesbian desire empowered by the fight against straight culture and patriarchy, coupled with neo-pagan religion and ritual (p. 84).

In chapter six Swartley develops a strategy for applying the conclusions he drew from the Bible in chapters two through four to our contemporary context.  He follows this in chapter seven with reflections on “The Church’s Belief and Response” and in chapter eight with “A Model for Congregational Discernment.”

Swartley seeks to combine compassion with clarity about sexual boundaries and Christians’ call to holy living.  He admits this is a big challenge, but calls the churches to seek to meet the challenge by putting resources and energy into spiritual discernment and redemptive discipline.

Willard Swartley deserves admiration for his courage in sending forth this book.  In laying out his thinking, he makes himself vulnerable to challenges from various points of view; but this is what is needed for the Mennonite Church to make genuine progress in responding to these issues.  These are difficult issues, and many questions need serious reflection.

Questions

In the spirit of Swartley’s assertion that “on these matters we need to respectfully engage each other in on-going discussion,” I would like to mention a few of the questions that seem important to me after reading this book.

(1) Is it clear what is meant by the term, “homosexuality”?  Swartley notes that the term itself was not coined until the 19th century (p.31), but does not seem to be concerned with carefully defining what he means by “homosexuality” when he uses it in relation to the Bible.

However, it is surely not self-evident that a modern concept can simply be used to describe ancient phenomena with much accuracy.  It would have been helpful had Swartley at least addressed this issue.

Throughout the book, Swartley speaks of “homosexual acts” and “homosexual practices.”  He does not clearly explain his basis for moving from the few specific examples of such “acts” given in the Bible to making blanket generalizations about “homosexuality” per se.  Especially since all or almost all of these “acts” alluded to are male behavior, how to we move these particular cases to universal conclusions?

We would never draw from stories of problematic “heterosexual acts” or “heterosexual practices” (such as rape, incest, adultery, and sex with prostitutes) that committed, mutually caring, monogamous heterosexual relationships are immoral.  Swartley would have strengthened his argument a great deal had he explained why he would move from particular cases to general condemnation in the case of “homosexuality” and not in the case of “heterosexuality.”

(2) How do we best understand the several biblical texts commonly understood to speak to the issue of homosexuality in their broader literary context.  Disappointingly, though Swartley devotes three full chapters (49 pages) to biblical matters, he does not delve deeply into exposition of the texts themselves but instead mostly settles for citing numerous scholarly opinions.  He does not help very much in empowering readers themselves to make their own informed decisions concerning the texts’ meanings.

Swartley does not help us understand the broader purposes these various texts were meant to service in their literary contexts.  Why are these particular stories told where they are told?  What’s their role in the broader literary units in which they appear?

One example is the inhospitality of Sodom toward the angelic visitors in Genesis 18 contrasting with Abraham’s hospitality toward the visitors in chapter 17 (implying that the issue in the judgment in chapter 18 is hospitality not sexuality). 

A second example is the role of Romans 1:18-32 as setting up Paul’s “self-righteous” readers to be critiqued for their judgmentalism in Romans two (implying that the portrayal of idolatrous sensuality in chapter one was first of all a rhetorical device to serve Paul’s critique of self-righteousness – similar to what Amos did with his critique of “the nations” prior to his actual punch-line critique of Israel [Amos 2]).

Probably the most troubling example is Swartley’s treatment of 1 Corinthians 6:10 as if its context is directly linked with Paul’s discussion of sexual morality in 1 Corinthians five (page 68).  Swartley ignores the immediate context in 1 Corinthians six of Paul’s critique of (probably rich) church people taking other (probably poor) church people to secular courts.  The list of vices in 1 Corinthians 6:9-10, then, is used to illustrate why those running secular courts are not to be trusted – this is the kind of unjust people they are – for the sake of justice, you in the church need to work things our among yourselves.

When we understand the context of the vice lists in 1 Corinthian six to be concern with justice, not sexuality, our understanding of the two ambiguous, undefined terms in that list often translated “homosexuals” and similar terms (malakoi and arsenkotai) might need to be revised.  Swartley does not even acknowledge this as an issue.

(3) Is it appropriate to make generalizations about homosexuality per se (that is, about all same-sex intimate relationships) based on proscriptions and problems that only apply to some?  More specifically, because something is considered to be wrong regarding intimacy between two men, does that justify a conclusion about all same-sex intimate relationships (including women).

Swartley argues that the issue of “orientation” is relatively unimportant; what matters in the Bible is behavior.  He implies that biblically (and for contemporary Christians), the issue is what people do, period.

However, this argument requires generalizing for all same-sex intimacy based on references that focus only on males.  That is, Genesis 19 and Judges 19 tell of men wanting to rape other men; Leviticus 18 and 20 forbid men laying with men; Romans one describes men being consumed with lust for other men; and the key word in 1 Corinthians six and 1 Timothy one is a compound of the words “men” and “laying with.” 

Romans one does include a reference to women involved in “unnatural intercourse” (1:26).  However, the text is irresolvably ambiguous concerning this “intercourse.”  I could be implying that what is “unnatural” is that it was out-of-control lust resulting in orgiastic sex, perhaps indiscriminately with men and women.  Or it could be implying that what is “unnatural” is that it was women having sex with other women.  It does not appear that we can achieve certainty either way.

So this one ambiguous reference is scarcely enough on which to base any firm conclusions about biblical teaching concerning female/female sexual intimacy.  All the other biblical texts alluding to same-sex activity clearly are referring to males (Gen. 19; Jud. 19; Lev. 18; 20; 1 Cor 6; 1 Tim. 1).

A major question then becomes why these few texts portray male-male sex as problematic.  Do they do so for reasons that would also encompass female-female intimacy or are they for male-specific reasons?  If the latter, then the applicability of these texts to the “homosexuality issue” per se is lessened.

This question also arises in relation to Swartley’s appendix on the AIDS crisis.  His writing is a bit ambiguous here, but given his inclusion of this essay in this book, it seems clear he is linking AIDS with homosexuality, trying to buttress his overall argument against same-sex intimacy per se with this example of problems with such intimacy.

However, it seems obvious that the segment of sexually-active society least vulnerable to AIDS would be women in same-sex relationships.  So, AIDS would at most seem to be an issue of concern for reflecting morally on certain male-male behavior, but not relevant at all for the issue of homosexuality per se.

(4) The next question follows: What is the sin that is inherent to homosexuality?  Most of the evidence Swartley gives for the homosexuality being problematic does not necessarily apply to same-sex intimate relationships per se (that is, not to all such relationships).

Swartley argues that the churches must resist cultural dynamics that foster unhealthy sexual behavior – promiscuity, obsessive self-gratification, sexually-transmitted diseases, infidelity, coercion, etc.  However, as he acknowledges, these problems are present among heterosexual people, too.  And, many believe, there is no inherent reason why same-sex intimate relationships cannot be committed, monogamous, faith-enhancing, mutually respectful.

So, if same-sex relationships do not inherently manifest the problems Swartley is citing, wherein is the sin in relation to all conceivable same-sex intimate relationships?  If the Bible is focused on male-male behavior, what is the moral violation that occurs in relationships between women?  It would seem that if one is to make the kinds of generalizations Swartley makes concerning same-sex intimate relationships as an entire class, one should be using evidence that applies to all possible members of that class.

(5) What might we learn from the lives of Christians who are in same-sex intimate relationships?  Swartley gives makes strong assertions concerning problematic dynamics among gay people, but he does not give any evidence of considering counter testimonies.

His bibliography does not include two important books edited by Roberta Showalter Kreider, From Wounded Hearts: Faith Stories of Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual and Transgender People and Those Who Love Them and Together in Love: Faith Stories of Gay, Lesbian, Bisexual and Transgender Couples.  These books gather many testimonies from Mennonites.

Had Swartley taken Kreider’s book into account, he would have realized that according to many Mennonites in same-sex intimate relationships the issue of sexual gratification is scarcely at the center of what draws them to their committed relationships.  They present their motivations in ways quite similar how what most Mennonites in opposite-sex intimate relationships likely would – finding in their shared lives with intimate partners a sense of wholeness and completeness that provides empowerment and support for living faithfully as children of God in our challenging world.

I believe these are significant questions and I wish Swartley had spoken to them more adequately.  The fact that he says so much in this book and yet still leaves so many issues unaddressed underscores how much work Mennonites have ahead of ourselves as we week to find some wholeness in relation to sexuality issues.

Nonetheless, Willard Swartley, in Homosexuality: Biblical Interpretation and Moral Discernment, has made an invaluable contribution.  He has put this topic on the table with a seriousness, thoroughness, and clarity that has not heretofore been provided by Mennonite scholars and publishers.  We now have some much more detailed touch points for the on-going conversations we so badly need.  So, let’s get to work to see if we might pull our boats back closer together before it’s too late.

 

Peace Theology Book Review Index

Robert Gagnon. The Bible and Homosexual Practice

Robert A. J. Gagnon. The Bible and Homosexual Practice: Texts and Hermeneutics. Abingdon, 2001.

Reviewed by Ted Grimsrud (here are my other writings on “homosexuality”)—[this was written in 2004 and first posted in 2009]

One takes up Robert Gagnon’s book with some hopefulness given the wide-ranging laudatory blurbs on the dust cover and inside from a wide variety of extraordinarily prominent biblical scholars.Present-day Christians certainly are in dire need for careful, thorough biblical and theological scholarship that treats the issue of homosexuality as a problem to be solved and not as an argument to be won.The old scholarly virtue of objectivity – writers carefully, respectfully, and as accurately as possible considering all relevant points of view – has been sadly lacking in most of the reading I have done.

Introduction

Gagnon’s introduction early on gives signals that he will not likely be providing a careful, respectful, and aspiring-to-objectivity approach.His unwillingness or inability to provide a level playing field for the various perspectives he will be considering may be seen in his juxtaposition of the two general approaches he sees being followed in relation to the issue of homosexuality and the Christian churches (page 26).

The one side appeals to explicit statements in Scripture regarding same-sex intercourse, the structures of God’s creation, principles of sexual holiness, two millennia of church tradition, the influence of the environment on the development of homosexuality, the dearth of long-term and monogamous homosexual relationships, and the negative health effects of homosexual behavior.

The other side appeals to genetic causation, the fruit of caring homosexual relationships, the antiquated worldview and obsolescence of other parts of Scripture, and such Christian virtues as tolerance and inclusion.

It seems obvious that he is setting up this polarity in order utterly to refute the pro-gay viewpoints.In what follows throughout this long book, Gagnon will always understand the approach of the anti-gay side to be based on solid methods and the approach of the pro-gay side to be based on faulty methods. He gives no sense of what problems with anti-gay assumptions and methods might be and no sense of any validity resting with pro-gay assumptions and methods.

In these early pages, where one would hope for careful definitions of terminology that will provide some standard with which to hold usage accountable (and to provide a stability and clarity concerning what actually is being discussed), we find no attempt carefully to define terms such as “homosexual,” “homosexuality,” and “homosexual practice.”This lack greatly weakens the strength of Gagnon’s argument that follows because he is not carefully constructing a position based on solid reasoning for each piece in the argument.

Gagnon uses the term “homosexual practice” in an apparently all-inclusive sense of both males and females.In so doing, often he is referring only to evidence that has to do only with males (for example, much later when he uses incidents of health problems gay men have as a basis to condemn “homosexual practice”; also just about all the biblical references are to males).This uncritical lumping together of same-sexer males and females ignores huge (seemingly qualitative) differences between the experiences of the two sexes.

Gagnon seems eager to make global generalizations that apply to all possible same-sex intimate relationships.In order to do, he must minimize the specific contextual factors that shape both the particular biblical references and the actual experience of same-sexers.When, for example, Leviticus 18 and 20 speak of the “abomination” of “males lying with males,” the more one focuses on the specific concerns likely reflected in that legislation that surely relate exclusively to issues related to males in ancient Israel, the more difficulty one will have in directly applying this prohibition to lesbians.

It seems to me that a condemnation of same-sex sexuality as inherently wrong should apply to all types of same-sex relationships.If not, then the problem with the particular behavior is better seen as specific to that behavior, not a general condemnation of same sex partners (e.g., promiscuity, anal sex, rape, pedophilia).

Gagnon in general often seems to be reducing “homosexuality” to sexual intercourse, or at least to be extra preoccupied with that aspect.Leaving aside the question in what sense it is meaningful to speak of two women having “intercourse,” it is important to note that for heterosexual couples in intimate long-term relationships, sexual intercourse is a relatively small (though, of course, often extraordinarily important and meaningful) element of their relationship.Surely this is also the case for same-sexers in long-term partnerships.This point underscores a point that Gagnon seems oblivious to – there are logically just as many “homosexualities” as there are “heterosexualities” (e.g., one-night stands, coercive relationships, long-term monogamous partnerships).

Throughout the introduction, the only references that Gagnon makes to his opponents’ views are pejorative and dismissive.He makes statements such as the motivation of people who are pro-gay stems from a desire to wear “a badge of intellectual open-mindedness and membership among the avant-garde of cultured society” (26).

Gagnon does mention that he supports vigorously denouncing “anti-homosexual violence.”However, he does not develop this point to any extent.He cites no cases and “denounces” no specifics.He also immediately qualifies this “denouncing responsibility” by calling “incidents of violence against homosexuals…isolated and relatively rare.”In contrast, he cites as more dangerous how these supposedly isolated and rare cases are used in “stifling” and “coercive” ways to pressure people in the churches and broader culture to endorse “homosexual practice” (30).The only allusion Gagnon makes to specific cases of people being persecuted over issues related to homosexuality is to the persecution of people like himself who oppose “homosexual practice” (35).

Hence, Gagnon apparently is not willing to see the tradition and on-going present-day experience of violence and hostility that many same-sexers testify to as a significant part of the churches’ discernment processes.He presents the issue of persecution and oppression as essentially a wash between same-sexers and their opponents.Consequently, persecution and oppression are not part of what we need to factor in to our discussions now.He seems to be saying that we simply need focus on the sexual practices of same-sexers as our main morally significant issue.

In his introductory comments about “homosexual practice,” Gagnon brings up the emotionally evocative but essentially ad hominim examples of AIDs, “pick-up murders,” and “domestic violence and sadomasochism” (30, 37) as if these are intrinsically part of the discussion of “homosexual practice.”However, these problems have nothing to do with homosexuality per se, no more than men raping women and male/female domestic abuse have to do with “heterosexuality” per se.In fact, these problems could be seen as bases for arguing for the churches supporting same-sex unions and offering their resources to provide support for covenanted, monogamous, loving relationships as a means of overcoming the problems of AIDs, “pick-up murders,” and “domestic violence and sadomasochism.”

Gagnon seems to assume that sexual behavior is the central issue determining whether believers’ lives are characterized by holiness.He implicitly defines “holy living” in terms of following “rules” for sexual purity and living free from sin – “sin” defined in terms of breaking rules (34).Certainly the Bible does convey concern about sexual morality when it addresses holiness.However, ironically in light of Gagnon’s later use of Leviticus, when we look at one of the core Old Testament texts that elaborates on the call to holiness (Lev 19), we find at the core of concern there a definition of “holy living” in terms of caring for the neighbor, especially vulnerable and marginalized neighbors (orphans, widows, aliens).Throughout this book, Gagnon refuses to factor in the Bible’s special concern for vulnerable, marginalized people as relevant for our discernment concerning same-sexers.

Gagnon, though he is a biblical scholar and focuses his energies on expositing the Bible, nonetheless does draw heavily on assumptions about what is “natural” that are based more on “common sense” (or cultural biases) than on biblical theology, though he asserts (without explicit evidence) that the Bible bases its perspective on these sense of what’s “natural.”“The Bible presents the anatomical, sexual, and procreative complementarity of male and female as clear and convincing proof of God’s will for sexual unions” (37).As we will see below, Gagnon’s basis for what the “Bible presents” on these themes is far short of clear proof; it’s argument based mostly on silence and the tenuous linking of weak allusions.“Same-sex intercourse constitutes an inexcusable rebellion against the intentional design of the created order” (37).This is an assumption Gagnon brings to the text and then claims to have established as a biblical concern.“It [same-sex intercourse] degrades the participants when they disregard nature’s obvious clues” (37).Here we are getting at what appears to be some of Gagnon’s energy concerning this issue – he finds same-sex intimacy to be “degrading” and “unnatural” but does not reflect on how these gut feelings might be quite vulnerable to being shaped more by cultural biases than careful reasoning shaped by the good news Jesus embodied.

From the start, Gagnon is imprecise in his use of his central term, “homosexual practice.”Because of this imprecision, Gagnon is able to make broad generalizations and, especially problematically, to use emotionally evocative examples of obviously problematic “practices” as if they are characteristic of all “homosexual practice.”He never carefully defines what he means by “homosexual practice.”It appears that he means sexual intercourse, but he does not explain what he means by “intercourse” or explain why it is “practice.”He does not speak to where the line is to be drawn between morally acceptable physical and emotional connections and unacceptable ones.By citing obviously destructive sexual practices in this context without qualification, he seems implicitly to be denying a moral distinction between obviously destructive practices and non-obviously destructive practices.However, part of his overall argument will be that “homosexual practice” is destructive, the destructiveness seemingly inherent in the same-sexness of this practice.

The Witness of the Old Testament.

Gagnon’s argument from the Old Testament begins with his discussion of Genesis’s creation account.Without warrant he smuggles in an “only” when he asserts that the writer recognizes that the “part fit” male to female only and complementarity is achieved only in opposite sex unions (63).I would say that one can recognize that Genesis 2:24 (“Therefore a man leaves his father and his mother and clings to his wife, and they become one flesh”) is about complementarity, but that there is no logical (and certainly not textual) basis to infer the “only” from this.

Likewise, Gagnon’s assertion that Genesis one and Genesis two are “in complete agreement over the exclusive claim to complementarity possessed by heterosexual unions” (63, emphasis added) is unwarranted.The affirmation of the male/female union says nothing about exceptions one way or the other, with no necessarily assumption about exclusivity.

Genesis 2:24 is clearly anachronistic (did Adam leave his parents to be with Eve?! – for that matter, was the male leaving his own family ever the norm in biblical cultures?).The notion of “one flesh” is not the norm in the entire Old Testament.What major Old Testament male character was not a polygamist?That is to say, in considering a text such as Genesis 2:24, one must seek to figure out the context and purpose of such a statement.It will not due simply to take the verse out of context and set it up as the basis for timeless norms.

Gagnon presents a creative reading of the story of Ham and Noah in Genesis 9:20-27 that threatens to undermine his entire project.He takes an utterly ambiguous story and reads into it harsh antipathy toward “homosexual practice,” revealing the single-minded intensity of his agenda – almost in spite of the actual text.

The passage literally refers to Ham “uncovering Noah’s nakedness.”This could be a euphemism for raping his father in order to gain dominance.Gagnon provides a plausible circumstantial argument for this reading.It is possible and makes some sense, but it is not the obvious or commonly-held interpretation.But Gagnon then concludes “it can hardly be doubted that the element of same-sex intercourse was an important compounding factor leading to the curse” (69, emphasis added)!He has not provided any clear evidence to suggest that this interpretation is the best way to read the text – and certainly not that it “can hardly be doubted”!

Though the Bible nowhere explicitly mentions “homosexual incest,” Gagnon draws the conclusion from the Ham story that “incestuous homosexual practice counted as two heinous acts, not one: incest and homosexual practice” (70).Notably, Gagnon uses his general, all-encompassing term “homosexual practice” here.Even if the Ham story is about the son raping his father, this can hardly be seen as the moral equivalent to a present-day, covenanted, mutually enriching same-sex partnership.As well, Gagnon’s assertion that Ham’s “curse” would have been linked with his “homosexual practice” suffers from an utter lack of support in any biblical reference or allusion.

Gagnon seems to equate “homosexual orientation” with “depraved, same-sex lust” (70).He does not seem to feel that he has to establish why this linking is valid; he simply asserts it.He states, “the question of homosexual orientation was surely irrelevant to the denunciation of same sex intercourse” (70, emphasis added).We are still dealing with the Ham story here.Gagnon now states it as a fact that this story is a “denunciation of same-sex intercourse” and that he is certain that orientation is irrelevant to the condemnation of Ham’s “homosexual practice.”All this in relation to an extraordinarily obscure allusion that has no obvious connection with “homosexual practice.”

Gagnon also argues here, and throughout the book, that the issue of orientation is morally irrelevant in the biblical materials; what matters is “the act” (70).Of course, he infers way too much thickness to the precious few and almost totally cryptic allusions to males having sex with males in the entire Bible.That is, he assumes much more clarity about what the Bible has in mind concerning “the act” than the Bible actually provides.

However, we may grant his point that the Bible is not concerned about orientation.How to apply that point, though, is part of the contested terrain in present-day discussions.It is troubling that Gagnon shows so little respect toward those on the other side of this issue, with no indication that he is open to taking their arguments seriously as part of a dialogue meant to foster greater understanding by all parties.Rather, he simply ignores, or at most mentions in order to dismiss, perspectives different than his own.

Gagnon’s view concerning the orientation issue seems to be that if the Bible was not concerned with orientation we should not be either.Others would say that it is precisely at this point that we bump up against the limits of the biblical moral guidance.Present-day understandings of sexual orientation are the result of the work of the human sciences just over the past century or so.They may provide insights that go beyond those available to biblical writers concerning human behavior.That the Bible teaches nothing about sexual orientation, then, would not be an indication that we should minimize the relevance of orientation but rather would be a reason to complement the Bible’s teachings with other understandings.

When Gagnon turns to the Sodom and Gomorrah story, we see his methodology illustrated again.Rather than considering the evidence for why Sodom and Gomorrah were destroyed, thereby acknowledging that this is an issue over which people disagree, Gagnon starts with the assertion that only something as heinous as attempted homosexual rape could explain why God would wipe the cities out.His logic seems to run, we all know that “homosexual practice” is extraordinarily evil and thus when these cities are punished it must be because of their homosexuality.

Gagnon minimizes the possibility that the violation of hospitality could be in itself a serious enough problem (it couldn’t be “merely inhospitality or even attempted rape of a guest,” 75 – we all know that those problems couldn’t be serious enough; it had to be the element of homosexuality).This ignores the significance of the beginning story in this section of Genesis 18 and 19 – where Abraham models authentic hospitality and sets the standard for hospitality that will grievously not be met by the people of Sodom and Gomorrah.

From the start, Gagnon seems to be assuming the worst about same-sex partnerships, taking it for granted that homosexuality must have been terrible and extraordinarily repulusive to the biblical characters.Yet, we have next to no clear evidence of this in the texts (beyond the cryptic commands in Leviticus to be discussed below).We have no stories comparable to David’s adultery with Bathsheba or Amnon’s rape of Tamar to illustrate what is so problematic about such behavior.On the other hand, the Old Testament is quite clear about the problematic nature of mistreatment of vulnerable people.

The stories of Ham (who had descendants) and of Sodom (where “all the men” were involved in the threatened gang rape, including presumably the male spouses of Lot’s daughters) are clearly about “normal” (i.e., heterosexual) men doing sexual violence, not about anything remotely akin to present-day same-sex covenanted partnerships.Gagnon seems committed to denying that there is a meaningful moral difference between these two types of phenomena – though he does not justify this denial.

Gagnon cavalierly uses terms such as “undoubtedly” often, with little or no justification for why there can be no doubt.For example, how can we say without doubt that the Yahwist, who never elaborates on same-sex relationships at all, would undoubtedly see “consenting homosexual intercourse” as a matter of the “participants willingly degrading themselves” (78)?

Throughout the book Gagnon seems to be assuming that “a man lying with a man as with a woman” is strictly about “penetration” (i.e., anal intercourse).However, few of us would associate “lying with a woman” with anal sex!This reflects his preoccupation with sexual intercourse and his reducing the issue of “homosexual practice” to that of genital sex – ignoring that possibility that same-sexers, like heterosexual couples, tend to experience sexual intercourse in the context of a much wider experience of intimacy (physical and emotional) and commitment.

Gagnon infers a strong claim by inclusive thinkers when he writes, “rather than argue that the narrators of the twin stories of Sodom and Gomorrah would have changed their perspective on homosexual intercourse had they only had a modern understanding of sexual orientation, it is more plausible to say that it probably would not have made any difference to them” (97).

Besides fabricating a “perspective on homosexual intercourse” in these biblical texts and drawing a fantastical conclusion about how the ancient writers would “probably” have responded to modern views of sexual orientation, Gagnon creates a straw man concerning the inclusivist argument here.There is no need (or no attempt made by anyone I know of; Gagnon cites no examples) to argue that those writers would “change their perspective” if they only had a modern sensibility.That argument is an irrelevant anachronism.The point for inclusivists need only be, at most, that there is no relevant connection between those stories and the present-day acceptability of same-sex covenanted relationships.In part, this point is based on a distinction that Gagnon refuses to make between violent, dominating sexual behavior and mutual, loving sexual behavior (a distinction that everyone accepts for heterosexuals).Gagnon’s argument regarding the Old Testament depends upon the moral equation of homosexual rape and homosexual temple prostitution with same-sex covenanted relationships, a moral equation no one would make concerning heterosexuals.

The key text in the Old Testament is Leviticus 18–20

In his discussion of Leviticus 18:6-23, Gagnon concludes that the key point here is that the prohibitions listed here do, as a whole, provide direction that remains normative for Christians concerning sexual behavior.However, his ignoring the prohibition that does not have anything to do with sex indicates that his generalizations are likely not warranted.That is, that one prohibition is not about sex (vs. child sacrifice) would indicate that the commonality among these prohibitions is not that they are “forbidden sexual relations” (113).And that at least one of the prohibitions is not considered a taboo today by most Christians (sex during menstruation) would indicate that simply being on this list does not in and of itself mean a prohibition has “universal validity in contemporary society” (113).

One concern that does seem to apply to all the items on the list and to make sense in the context of Leviticus, is the concern for adding children to the community.The ancient Israelites needed children – and the children needed to be “legitimate” – to carry on their community life (which is the core concern of Torah as a whole).The problem with these various types of sexual behavior is that they could not result in “legitimate” offspring – and, obviously, child sacrifice also would be a problem in terms the community adding children to its midst.

As well, the fact that especially incest, adultery, and child sacrifice are condemned in other settings in the Bible, with reasons and stories, would seem to indicate that the prohibition of male/male sex has more in common with the prohibition of sex during menstruation (neither is given a rationale elsewhere in the Bible) than the other prohibitions.

That male/male sex (not “homosexual intercourse” as Gagnon states, 113) is the only specific act called an “abomination” in all the priestly corpus is interesting – but almost proves too much.That is, how can “abomination” be such an important category if this is the only act directly so labeled?How can male/male sex as abomination be so significant when the meaning of this prohibition is so obscure, never discussed elsewhere in the Old Testament?

The calling for death to violators of the male/male sex prohibition must be taken seriously.Since we, including Gagnon, do not call for using the death penalty for “homosexual practice” today, in some sense we are saying that Leviticus 20:13 is not to be applied literally in our setting.What are our bases for qualifying its application?Why would the death penalty be prescribed and what might this prescription tell us about the context of the prohibition and its meaning?Gagnon simply says that the provision for the death penalty means “homosexuality” is especially bad (114-5).However, he does not probe into what clues that prescription might offer for helping us understand the meaning of the condemnation of male/male sex in Leviticus.

Might it be possible that Gagnon’s failure to address the issue in this way reflects his desire to find in Leviticus a general, universalizable basis for his pre-existing assumption that “homosexual practice” is wrong?That is, looking more closely at what in the particular context of Leviticus would have led to linking the death penalty with the prohibition against male/male sex might actually lead us to see the concern as something quite specific to that particular context and not universalizable (as seems to be the case with the prohibition against sex during menstruation).

Gagnon argues that the most meaningful parallel within the list of prohibitions in Leviticus is not sex during menstruation but adultery and incest (114-5).However, this parallel seems less than obvious, since in the cases both of adultery and incest there are New Testament stories underscoring the problematic nature of the given behavior and providing direct bases for Christian prohibitions.There are none such in relation to male/male sex.

Gagnon asserts that the laws in Leviticus 18:22 and 20:13 are “unqualified and absolute” (115).One could just as easily say, based on what the texts themselves actually say (and do not say) that these laws are cryptic and merely formal (i.e., not applied).Gagnon asserts that “homosexual acts” are portrayed as “intrinsically evil” in Leviticus 18, 20 (118).Yet this assertion is difficult to sustain given the lack of supporting evidence (no elaboration in Leviticus beyond the bare prohibition and no stories illustrating the prohibition elsewhere in the Old Testament).

Gagnon states that because many Old Testament “abominations” are still seen as evil by Christians, “homosexuality” should also still be seen as evil, since it is called an “abomination” (120).He conveniently omits mention of sex with a menstruating woman, as it is an “abomination” that most Christians no longer see as evil.This example, though, shows that simply being named as an “abomination” in the Leviticus does not make something wrong for us.All the examples Gagnon cites have generally-accepted reasons to be seen as wrong.The challenge for his position is to provide reasons for labeling sexual intimacy in the context of a covenanted, healthy, loving same-sex partnership is evil other than the reference in Leviticus.

In his discussion of Leviticus, Gagnon anticipates his later argument by discussing what he sees to be the link between Leviticus and Paul.He begins by stating as a fact that Paul “formulated…opposition to same-sex intercourse.”This is his assumption at this point, not an established fact (and is, of course, strongly contested by many writers on these topics).Then Gagnon gives “evidence” for his assertion that Paul is self-consciously linking his argument with Leviticus.

Gagnon’s evidence that Paul self-consciously draws on Leviticus consists of four main points (121-2).First is that Paul alludes to the “father’s wife” in his proscribing incest in 1 Corinthians 5 using terms close to the LXX of Leviticus 18:7-8.The problem here is that neither of these texts having anything to do with same-sex “practice.”

Second, Gagnon picks up on Paul’s warning in Romans 1:32 that the behavior he as referred earlier (including, in Gagnon’s interpretation, “homosexual practice”) is “worthy of death” echoes the warning in Leviticus that men laying with men will be executed.However, unlike Leviticus 20:13, Paul in Romans 1:32 is not addressing the behavior of people in the community of faith and many, many other examples of problematic behavior are mentioned between 1:32 and the allusion to “homosexual practice” several verses earlier.In fact, the entire discussion in Romans 1:18-32 is not focused at all on giving rules for Christian behavior, whereas, of course, Leviticus 20 is completely about setting forth rules for the behavior people within the community of faith.

Gagnon’s third basis for linking Paul with Leviticus is that Paul uses a couple of the same words in Romans 1:24, 27 that are common in the LXX version of Leviticus 18, 20.However, a basic principle in interpreting texts such as the Bible is to recognize that words do not convey meaning nearly as much as sentences do.Gagnon cites no parallel sentences.Besides, theologically, it would seem unlikely that the Paul who critiques legalistic uses of Torah and summarizes Torah in Romans as consisting of loving the neighbor (13:8-10) would want his readers to see parallel words as a basis for reading him as reiterating a literalistic application of a cryptic command from Leviticus.

The fourth point is that Gagnon’s assertion that Paul’s term in 1 Corinthians 6:9 that Gagnon interprets as meaning “men who take other men to bed” (arsenokoitai) comes from combining two words from the LXX of Leviticus 18, 20 (the words for “men” and “laying”).However, he reads way too much into a possible parallel.It could be that Paul got those words from Leviticus, but it is just as likely he knew them already and created a new compound word from them for his own purposes that may or may not have anything to do with Leviticus.We simply cannot know.If the verses in Leviticus are cryptic, Paul’s use of arsenokoitai is even more so since as far as we know Paul’s use of it in 1 Corinthians 6 is the first time it was every used – there are no other contemporary uses in the New Testament or any other Greek literature we know of.As well, Paul simply uses the term in a list with no other explanation of what it might mean.

Gagnon concludes that Leviticus 18:22 and 20:13 are best understood as “banning all homosexual intercourse” (131).However, it seems much better to recognize that those verses are cryptic more than universal and categorical.All we have are short commands that speak only of men with no explanation or supporting stories elsewhere in the Old Testament.The lack of explanation as to what the laws have in mind argue for a more limited application than for a broader application.

Gagnon’s analogies with incest, adultery, and bestiality (131) break down because the Old Testament has much more detail on those three problems than on same-sex intimacy.If all we had in the Old Testament concerning those three was what we are told in Leviticus 18, 20, then we would have much less confidence in their applicability to our present as well.

Gagnon sees the underlying concern behind the Levitical proscriptions being a concern about the profanity of “mixing that which was never intended to be mixed” (135).But we are not really told why this is so bad.It won’t do to say only that they should not be mixed because they were not intended to be.Chances are if we could answer this question, we would find that the underlying reasons are not applicable to our context today.

To use the idea of “maintaining pure categories” (136) as the key concern and then to use not breeding two kinds of animals, not planting two kinds of seeds in one field, and not wearing two kinds of fabric at once as supporting evidence for this concern being central in Leviticus would seem to reinforce the idea that rejecting male/male sex because it violates this need for “pure categories” is context specific and not a timeless absolute.We must ask why this need was central to the text?

The witness of Jesus.

Gagnon begins his discussion of the New Testament with the assertion that “no first-century Jew could have spoken of porneiai (plural) without having in mind the list of forbidden sexual offenses in Leviticus 18 and 20 (incest, adultery, same-sex intercourse, bestiality)” (191).One missing piece of evidence supports that idea that Gagnon’s hostility toward gay and lesbian Christians is clouding his scholarship here – the complete lack of the use of the term porneiai in the New Testament in relation to homosexuality.That is, Gagnon’s assumption is only an assumption, founded much more on his own negative stance toward “homosexual practice” than on direct evidence of first-century Christians making the link.

Gagnon makes this point in service to his effort to undermine the pro-same-sexer arguments that focus on Jesus’ spirit of inclusiveness and care for vulnerable people.For Gagnon, since it is certain that “no first century Jew” (including Jesus, of course) could have spoken of porneiai without very self-consciously having homosexuality in mind, Jesus in Mark 7:21-23 “undoubtedly would have understood homosexual behavior to be included among the list of offenses” (191-2).

Furthermore, when Jesus refers to the prohibition of adultery (Mark 10:19), given his Hellenistic Jew contemporary Philo’s linking of this prohibition with pederasty, incest, and other matters pertaining to sexual intercourse, “it is probable that implicit in Jesus’ embrace of the seventh commandment against adultery was a rejection of all same-sex intercourse” (192).

The Witness of Paul and Deutero-Paul.

Gagnon makes some possibly self-revealing comments when he read into Paul’s cryptic statements said to be speaking to same-sex intercourse in Romans 1 deep “visceral feelings…of disgust toward same-sex intercourse” as “the zenith of detestable behavior” (269).One must ask, are these feelings of “disgust toward same-sex intercourse” Paul’s or Gagnon’s?

We do not have much evidence of Paul’s “deep visceral feelings of disgust” here, especially since it seems clear from the passage of Romans 1–3 as a whole that Paul’s concern is not nearly so much the behavior of which he refers in Romans one as the attitudes of the religious people he challenges in Romans two.

One must ask why same sex intimacy would be so bad.Why would it, per se, be the “zenith of detestable behavior”?Gagnon’s articulated argument seems to rest on the notion of the created complementarity of males and females.However, why would having a quite small part of the population construct intimate relationships that do not reflect that complementarity necessarily be such a threat to the basic norm for the vast majority of the people to such an extent that it would warrant this intense hostility?In reflecting on this question we must remember that Paul himself never explicitly expresses either the intense disgust for same-sex intimacy per se that Gagnon assumes he has nor does Paul directly link his antipathy toward whatever it is he has in mind in Romans one and 1 Corinthians six with the idea of the complementarity of the sexes.

Gagnon asserts, “the evidence is quite clear that Paul considered same-sex intercourse to be sin” (277).However, one needs carefully to unpack this “evidence” and not simply assume that it is obvious (even if Christians have long tended to think it is).The reason this issue is so contested is because this evidence is not clear.Gagnon’s argument is actually weakened by his unwillingness to grant any ambiguity here.

In Romans one, Paul mentions “unnatural sex” (1:26-27) with other forms of adikia (often translated “wickedness” or “unrighteousness” but arguably more accurately translated “injustice” – see N.T. Wright’s commentary on Romans).Is this linking of men being “consumed with passion for one another” (1:27) with adikia an indication that all same-sex intimacy is intrinsically adikia or is it when same-sex intimacy is adikia that it reflects the idolatry/wrath dynamic?What is Paul’s implied critique here, against adikiaor against same-sex intimacy per se?We seem to have much more evidence in Paul’s writing that he is much, much concerned with injustice than with same-sex intimacy per se – reflecting the clear emphasis in Torah, the prophets, and Jesus.

The list of other phenomena that manifest adikia in Romans 1:29-31 seem to include things that are perversions and distortions of aspects of life that are not inherently adikia (e.g., rebelliousness toward parents is a problem of adikia within the context of relationships that are not inherently wrong).

It seems to me that Paul is trying in Romans 1:18-32 to speak to the strongest biases his readers would have had in order to set them up for his further argument that he develops in chapters two and three.He is not necessarily agreeing or disagreeing with these biases, so much as implying that they are dangerous because they blind his readers to their own adikia and total need for God’s mercy.

So we ask, what are most likely to be the kinds of biases Paul is alluding to.Is it anti-homosexuality (in which the basic problem is the same-sexness of the partners) or is it anti-lustful debauchery?It seems crucial to note that Paul only mentions same-sex relating here in the context of people being “consumed with passion” (1:27) and being “filled with every kind of injustice” (1:29).We must remember, too, that Paul was writing to Christians in Rome who would have been aware of the notorious debaucheries associated with emperors such as Caligula and their arch-nemesis Nero.And Paul mentions numerous times in other of his writings that he is concerned about his readers being “consumed with passion” in heterosexual contexts.

The New Testament provides no evidence apart from one very cryptic allusion in 1 Corinthians 6 (discussed below) that homosexuality per se was of interest or concern.

We must also note that Romans one is not meant to be direct guidance for Christian sexual ethics.Paul is not formulating direct guidance for Christian behavior in these verses.His intent is rather to tap into the biases of his readers to make a very different kind of point – in your self-righteousness you are as bad as these idolaters and you run a great risk of separating yourself from the mercy of God found in Jesus.So Paul’s agenda here is not to provide bases for some Christians to be judgmental toward other Christians; it is rather to clear the ground for a fresh and transformative appropriation of God’s healing mercy for all people expressed in the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus.

Gagnon gets the point almost exactly wrong when he writes that “the point of the discussion [in Romans 1:18-32] is that God is wholly justified in judging” (280) – with the clear implication that we, too, should be judging.No!The point is that even though God would be justified to do so, God does not condemn (Rom 3:21).God’s non-condemnation in 3:21 is the punch-line for the entire section 1:18–3:20.

Gagnon begins his discussion of 1 Corinthians 6:9 and 1 Timothy 1:10 with a translation of those individual verses in their immediate context – 1 Corinthians 6:9-11 and 1 Timothy 1:8-10.He does not consider, crucially in relation to the 1 Corinthians text, the broader paragraph in which this verse is found.By starting with 6:9, Gagnon gives the impression that Paul’s point is about people not “inheriting God’s kingdom” with the implication that he is warning Christians that they will not find salvation if they engage in same-sex intimacy.However, this focus ignores the actual context of 6:9 that is found in the eight previous verses.Paul’s concern here is with Christians taking other Christians to secular courts as a means of settling their differences.

The difference in translating dikia as “injustice” rather than “wickedness” seems especially significant in relation to the context for Paul’s use of two terms often linked with homosexuality here.Paul’s concern is with the justice system of the secular courts and strongly criticizes Corinthian Christians for using it – quite possibly in part because this was a matter of wealthy people in the church using the courts to enforce their exploitation of poorer members (see Richard Hays’ commentary on 1 Corinthians).

So when Paul gives his list of “vices” in 6:9-10, we need to be aware that the context for these vices is his concern with injustice, not sex.Plus, as with Romans one, Paul is describing non-Christians with this list, not giving commands for Christian behavior.This context makes it almost certain that whatever Paul means by some of these cryptic terms, he is thinking of them in terms of overt injustice, not a general statement about all forms of same-sex intimacy (overtly unjust or not).

Gagnon does not mention any of these points about the actual paragraph in which 6:9 is found (6:1-11).Rather, he focuses on the meaning of the individual words arsenokoitai and malakos (306).He does not even address the immediate reason why Paul would give his list in 6:9-11, giving us the idea that Paul provides this list to answer the question of what happens to all same-sexers rather than answering the question of why those exercising authority in the secular courts are not suited to judge between Christians in conflict.

By focusing simply on the sex issue, Gagnon presents the key point here being that the “malakoi are sandwiched between adulterers (people who commit an act of immoral sexual intercourse) and arsenokoitai (people who have something to do with an immoral act of same-sex intercourse)” (308).That is, the key issue is sexual behavior per se, not sexual behavior insofar as it is an expression of injustice.

The term malokoi literally means “soft” and is used both of sexual and non-sexual behavior and characteristics.However, in Gagnon’s discussion of malakoi he relies solely on its being placed between “adulterers” and arsenokoitai in 1 Corinthians 6:9 and one passage in Philo where the immediate context is “homosexual behavior” as if these points tell us all we need to know about what Paul had in mind.Gagnon ignores all other non-sexual uses in the New Testament and elsewhere.If we think of the context of 1 Corinthians 6:9 being concern about injustice more than sexual misbehavior, we would have no reason to assume that malakoi referred to same-sexers instead of more generally referring to moral softness in a broad sense (a meaning malokos did have in uses elsewhere in the first century).

The terms arsenokoitai looms large in Gagnon’s discussion.He agrees with many others is speculating that this term is likely a neologism created by Paul.However, he takes a step further in assuming that the meaning of this neologism is obviously simply the sum of the two parts that are joined together (312-3).However, this need not be the case.Sometimes a neologism can take on a new meaning at least somewhat unique (a modern day example would be Gandhi’s joining of “truth,” satya, and “force,” graha, to create a new term satyagraha that had its own special meaning).

The two words joined in arsenokoitai are arseno (“male”) and koite (“lying”).Koite is indeed in the masculine form.However this need not necessarily mean, as Gagnon seems to assume, “men lying with men [in order to have sex].”It is possible that koite is masculine simply in echo of arseno.The word could have the sense, that is, of males having problematic sex with women.

Though Gagnon flatly asserts that since arsenokoitai means “men who take males to bed” it could hardly be referring to heterosexual intercourse (323-4).He could be correct, but the basis for his assertion is mostly speculation.He seems to be assuming that a word’s presumed etymology determines its meaning – and that the meaning of biblical texts is primarily determined by the meaning of individual words.

Of all possible readings of this text (and Romans one), Gagnon’s is one plausible reading, perhaps the most plausible.However, he cannot overcome the paucity of clear evidence illumining the meaning of these texts and the high level of ambiguity surrounding the bits of evidence that we do have.That one offers a plausible reading is not a basis for acting as if one’s reading is an established fact.Gagnon’s absolute certainly and denial of complexity in how he expresses himself counts against his argument.He takes small pieces (e.g., the use of the word arsenokoitai) that could be support for his position and treats them as certainties with global ramifications.

One has the impression that Gagnon has made up his mind that same-sex intimacy is terrible and then wants to use whatever evidence he can find to force his opponents into submission, taking the little bits and welding them into something much bigger and stronger through his use of absolutist rhetoric and numbing amounts of data (the sheer amount of argumentation he muster obscures the tentativeness of his core data).

One must ask what is going on here.Why does Gagnon have to be so absolutist and overpowering?What does he fear that prevents him from treating the biblical data in a more nuanced way and his opponents as people to work together with rather than as people simply to refute and dismiss?

Gagnon time after time generalizes concerning what “most ancient Jews” must have thought (e.g., 350).These generalizations, though, are based on very minimal written documentation (imagine that Gagnon’s book is the only documentation that survives our current discussion on homosexuality 500 years from now; how reliable a reflection would it be on what “most early 21st century Christians” think?).He may be right about “ancient Jews,” but the most he can say with any confidence should be that “the few written pieces of evidence we have indicate…”, not “everyone believed….”

Even if Gagnon is correct in his assertion that Paul, Jesus, and “all biblical writers” utterly condemned all same-sex intimacy (369), does it automatically follow that this unanimity creates an imperative for present-day Christians?For example, we arguably have similar or more clear evidence of a consensus among biblical writers concerning the acceptability of slavery, the view that wives were their husbands’ property, that polygamy is fine, that usury is sinful, that we live in a three-story universe, the Genesis one is literal history, that Jesus would return within a generation of his death, that masturbation is sinful, and that God sometimes orders some people to kill others.Each of these points of “consensus” are denied to be normative for present-day Christians by at least a significant part of the present Christian church.

Thus, even if Gagnon is correct in his reading of the Bible’s view of homosexuality (though, as I have written above, I don’t think he is), does that reading of the Bible appropriately lead to the kind of certainty concerning present-day Christian ethics that he manifests?Might we not have reasons to question the motivations behind his certainty concerning this one issue?

Conclusion

Overall, this comes across to me as an extraordinarily fearful book. Gagnon’s inflexible refusal to allow for ambiguity, complexity, and the possibility that his opponents might be at least partially correct reflects this apparent fearfulness. As does Gagnon’s amazing and constant approach of making absolute and global statements based on what turns out to up, upon examination, very tentative evidence.

Gagnon leaves a number of important issues unaddressed in this very long book. He offers no reflection on the significance of the Bible’s liberative emphases, even if only to explain why these emphases should not be applied to the issue of homosexuality – given how central this theme is for most inclusive writers.Nor does he consider arguments based on the validity of the spiritual experience of gay and lesbian Christians.He does not reflect on whether the biblical materials being so male-oriented would have any significance for how we might apply them.

Perhaps most surprising from someone with Gagnon’s academic credentials, he spends very little time discussing the cultural and historical distance between today and the time of the Bible.He obviously believes that this distance does not negate the normative guidance of the Bible for this one specific ethical issue, but he does not explicitly justify this belief.Many educated Christians today would assume that this distance renders the Bible’s guidance less than obviously normative.Gagnon does not explain why he can so readily overcome the benefit of the doubt against normativeness.

Perhaps most problematic, Gagnon seems to welcome a power struggle, a fight to the death over the soul of the church.It is simply a fact that those on the opposite from him constitute a significant portion of the mainline Protestant community.The only way his take-no-prisoners approach will succeed is by utterly defeating those he disagrees with.One wishes for a much more irenic spirit that conveys the negative convictions concerning “homosexual practice” while also affirming the need for Christians with different views to work together for the wholeness of the church.

Gagnon’s long hermeneutical chapter, instead of an honest and vulnerable treatment of key hermeneutical issues such as the reality that we all approach the Bible with biases, as fallen, finite human beings, instead focuses simply on refusing pro-gay arguments.

Gagnon seems to misunderstand the significance of the argument by many pro-gay writers that the Bible’s paucity of references to “homosexuality” is an important piece of evidence.This point of this argument is not that therefore the Bible must think “homosexuality” is okay.Rather, the point is that the Bible does not tell us what to think about this issue.We must construct our own response based on our own reflection on various factors.And, if one is going to argue against acceptance of covenanted, same-sex partnerships being blessed by the churches, one needs to find grounds in addition to “the Bible tells me so.”

Gagnon mentions anti-gay violence a few times in his book, but pretty much simply in order to dismiss it as carrying any counter-weight to his arguments.However, should not we all be asking where such violence comes from?Should we not all be attentive to the causes of this violence as we reflect on this issue in general?Ultimately, it seems difficult to take with moral seriousness any extensive discussion of “homosexuality” that does not take very seriously this violence.

Peace Theology Book Review Index

Arthur Herman. Gandhi and Churchill

Arthur Herman. Gandhi & Churchill: The Epic Rivalry that Destroyed an Empire and Forged Our Age. Bantam Books, 2008.

This is an interesting book, to say the least. Arthur Herman had an excellent idea, trace the careers of two of the giants of the 20th century from the angle of how their lives intersected with each other (even though the two only met once, when they were both quite young). So, the focus of the book, as the subtitle indicates, is on India–though other themes also make an appearance. The use of the word “destroyed” in reference to the Empire gives some indication of where Herman’s sympathies lie. Though he is an American, he seems to have much regret that the British empire fell by the wayside.

For a massive, scholarly volume by a professional historian, this book reads remarkably well. Herman has a fascinating story to tell–and tell it well he indeed does. You don’t read a book this large (600+ pages) in one sitting, and I continually found myself reluctant to put it down (in my younger days I am sure I would have continued long into the night to find out what was going to happen next). The book follows a pretty straight chronology, and even a person pretty familiar with the outline of the events will still find new information and provocative interpretive moves throughout.

Just as Herman himself clearly has a distinctive perspective that shapes how he presents this material, so readers will bring their perspectives that shape how they will respond to this book. From my perspective as one decidedly unfriendly to empires and their champions (such as Churchill), and friendly to Gandhi’s pioneering work in the philosophy and practice of nonviolence, Herman comes across as a pretty unreliable witness in the Gandhi half of this double biography. Yet, even though Herman likes Churchill much better than I do, his treatment of the man is much more objective and believable than his corresponding account of Gandhi’s career.

That is, I felt I learned enough about Churchill to be able to form my own judgment. Herman is thorough and clear in providing ample bases for seeing Churchill as a deeply problematic influence on the world of the 20th century–even as Herman himself generally views this influence as more positive. Churchill’s own father seems to have been monstrous toward his son, who to the end of his life felt he had utterly failed to live up to the father’s expectations. Churchill drank deeply of imperial grandiosity (along with other more mundane spirits) and, at the cost of untold lives, exerted every ounce of his considerable power and influence to keep the British Empire intact long after even the British people themselves believed it was time to let go. Churchill was an unrepentant racist, also with deadly consequences for India and other part of the Empire. And he was apparently the person most responsible for several terrible military disasters (most notably the infamous fiasco at Gallipoli during World War I).

To Herman’s credit, we get Churchill warts and all. In fact, after reading the book and thinking about it a few days, I am not quite sure why Herman respects Churchill so much. He certainly does not provide a persuasive case for why we should see Churchill as a great man–that seems to be Herman’s assumption, one he does not really allow the evidence he has presented here (which does not show Churchill as a great man) to challenge.

One item, not really central to the theme of the book, irritated me in relation to Herman’s treatment of Churchill and perhaps illustrates how his assumptions shape his conclusions. In its account of World War II, the book (appropriately) focuses on India. Herman is not attempting to present an account of the War in general. Nonetheless, one reading only this book would most likely conclude that Britain under Churchill’s leadership played the central role in defeating Nazi Germany–with an important assist from the United State. It seems clear historically, though, that by the major factor in Germany’s defeat was the incredible effort of the Soviet Union. By essentially ignoring the Soviets, Herman can give the impression that Churchill’s accomplishment in leading Britain (impressive in its own way, for sure) was way more significant than it actually was.

Whereas with Gandhi, it’s kind of the opposite problem. We do learn a great deal about many of the events of Gandhi’s life–but I simply don’t know how much of what Herman says about the Indian leader is to be believed. Time after time he asserts that the standard account of Gandhi’s career is wrong, but almost never presents evidence to support his assertion. If he were trustworthy on Gandhi, such assertions would be quite helpful for all who want the most accurate account of one who certainly has been the object of much hagiography. But the best I can bring myself to say about Herman’s Gandhi sections is that they raise provocative questions and challenge me to look more closely at the sources.

Throughout the book Herman combines two types of comments regarding Gandhi that seem deeply in tension–one is how just about every major campaign or other initiative Gandhi took was essentially a failure or at least of negligible significance (going back to the emergence of sayagraha in South Africa down to Gandhi’s last days of seeking for Hindu/Muslim reconciliation); the second was how powerful and highly influential Gandhi was in India and globally. The significance for Herman of Gandhi’s influence is almost always to suggest how problematic that influence was, how Gandhi bore so much responsibility when events turned bad. But how can both of these dynamics be true–Gandhi’s utter ineffectiveness and Gandhi’s powerful and regrettable influence? If Gandhi was always so ineffective, how did he come to have so much influence?

Part of the problem is that Herman makes no attempt whatsoever to account for Gandhi’s philosophy, other than occasional disparaging comments often pointing either to Gandhi’s hypocrisy or out of touch idealism. The reader of this book will learn virtually nothing about the meaning that satyagraha had for Gandhi, where it came from and how he sought to apply it. There are no reflections on Gandhi’s powerful influence on various social change efforts around the world.

Here is one quote that captures a great deal of Herman’s sensibility: “The confrontation [between Churchill and Gandhi] was between two different conceptions of life. One rested on secular and humanistic traditions that had been tested by history and centuries of human conflict. The other rested on a vision of spiritual purity in which history and material things (including Gandhi’s own body) counted for nothing. Churchill valued human liberty as the product of struggle, as man’s supreme achievement. Gandhi, by contrast, valued liberty as God’s supreme achievement. It was man’s duty to live up to that standard. Without it, Gandhi believed, life was meaningless, including his own” (page 507).

The idea that a racist and imperialist such as Churchill, who fought bitterly to keep India’s hundreds of millions of people under the dominance of Great Britain, valued “liberty” supremely seems ludicrous. And we can ask how “humanistic” any tradition is that undergirds such racism and imperialism and that so comfortably resorts to such violations of standards of restraint in warfare as seen in the Churchill-approved saturation bombing of civilian populations in cities such as Dresden and Hamburg during World War II.

The relation between Gandhi’s philosophy and practice of nonviolence and “history and material things” is a point of major debate–a debate that will be extremely difficult to resolve in part due to the incomplete evidence we have concerning where history actually is going and in part due to the importance of our assumptions in how we address such a question. However, I want to argue that in fact Gandhi’s philosophy is extraordinarily important for human history, is at its core anchored in history, and is actually our best hope for on-going human existence in history.

As I mentioned above, I did find this book highly enjoyable to read. And I think Herman deserves our gratitude for taking on such an interesting and important project. In the end, though, I don’t really think that what the world today needs is an exaltation of Churchillian imperialism combined with an attempted debunking of Gandhian satyagraha–rather, what we need is an account of this story that take the opposite tack in dealing with each of its main characters.

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Andrew Skotnicki. Criminal Justice and the Catholic Church

Andrew Skotnicki. Criminal Justice and the Catholic Church. Rowman and Littlefield Publishers, 2008.

Andrew Skotnicki sets out a Catholic theory of criminal justice that is humane and redemptive. He argues that the fundamental issue underlying criminal justice practices is whether or not Christ is seen in the criminal.  If he is not, abuses are inevitable.  If he is, we have hope that the criminal justice process may be redemptive.

Catholic approaches to criminal justice need to be grounded in a Catholic anthropology that understands each human being to be of inestimable value—value that is not diminished even by criminal behavior. Punishment has traditionally been justified on two grounds that stand in tension with each other: (1) “that punishment by lawful authority is both just and necessary for those who have freely chosen to disrupt the harmony established within and intended by God for creation” and (2) “that punishment does not achieve its true meaning until it arises from within and is willed by the offender, that is, until it becomes self-punishment” (p. 35).  One way to characterize Skotnicki’s agenda in the book is a whole is that he seeks to hold these two points together.

In the fourth and longest chapter, “Prison as the Normative Means and Punishment,” Skotnicki tells the fascinating story of the origins of long-term imprisonment as a form of punishment in monastic prisons.  The justification for the monastic prisons was confidence in the redemptive possibilities of penance.  To reflect on one’s sins while spending time in isolation provided the path to acknowledgment of the sins, repentance, and reconciliation with God and the community.

Skotnicki concludes with an outline of what he calls “A Catholic Theory of Criminal Justice.”  Here he catches up his historical analysis, his theological commitments, and his (brief) critique of present practices in our society.  The goal of criminal justice should center on wholeness—for society, for victims, and for offenders.  Imprisonment plays in important role in this quest for wholeness, both by honoring justice and order and by playing a crucial role in “atonement” (the reconciling of the offender with God and with the human community).  Perhaps the most distinctive element of Skotnicki’s theory lies in his strong emphasis on the efficacy of confinement as a means of bringing about repentance.

Skotnicki’s reminder that when offenders are not treated as full human beings “all hell breaks loose” continues to be timely and needed. Some questions remain, though.

(1) Despite the seriousness of this topic and Skotnicki’s obviously deep concern that our society’s criminal justice practices turn away from the abyss of unrestrained and dehumanizing retribution, the book’s tone reflects a surprising lack of urgency.  Skotnicki doesn’t engage in any detail the absolute crisis in our criminal justice system where the “cure” of an utterly heartless lock-’em-up without mercy approach to crime has greatly deepened the “disease” of violence and alienation in our society.  His theory, attractive as it may be, would gain in credibility and relevance were it formulated with more overt attention to our social context.

(2) I appreciate Skotnicki’s attempt to hold together the emphases on seeing Christ in the prisoner and the validity of autonomous retributive justice.  By insisting on the Christ-presence (and with it, the absolute value of reconciliation and healing of offenders), Skotnicki offers an important challenge to punitive practices that rely only on the goods of protecting order and the moral universe’s balance of justice.

However, might this attempt still not be doomed to an inevitable instability?  The two sides of this tension come from dramatically different (and perhaps irreconcilable) sources.  Jesus’ approach to “justice” and human wellbeing seems to reject the idea of autonomous justice.  For Jesus, all justice must serve healing—not stand as an independent principle.  When love and justice are separated, “justice” easily becomes co-opted, as in our current crisis.

(3) Skotnicki’s account of the origins of the practice of long-term imprisonment and the isolation of prisoners in monastic practices is fascinating and important.  This story certainly underwrites his commitment to the on-going possibility that confinement may (should) serve the healing of the offender.  However, his case is not strengthened by his failure to consider how the practice of seeking repentance through isolation has evolved to become perhaps the most effective means of punishment and torture.  As the colonial-era Quakers who led prison reform in the United States with an emphasis on isolation of the prisoner discovered to their horror, such isolation’s main effect is not to lead to repentance but to insanity.

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Noam Chomsky. Interventions

Noam Chomsky. Interventions. City Lights Books, 2007.

Noam Chomsky’s political analyses and commentary are always worth reading–including this collection of short opinion pieces. Chomsky regular has written short op-ed essays that are distributed internationally through the New York Times Syndicate (though never published in the Times itself–and rarely published in other American papers). One reason to read this collection is to ask why is it that Chomsky’s writings are considered to be so out of the mainstream. I don’t know the answer.

Chomsky does ask challenging questions and refuses to accept conventional wisdom–but he is clear, analytical, carefully reasoned, and discusses issues of great interest to a wide variety of people. One of his great virtues is to help us remember inconvenient truths, facts, and past actions in an age of all-too-easily sweeping things under the carpet (such as, for example, the democratic election of Hamas into power in Gaza).

I don’t think these 44 pieces are Chomsky at his best–I prefer his longer books that allow him more elbow room and the ability thoroughly to document his points. Plus, these articles are all occasional and hence a bit dated (the earliest essay is from September 2002). However, they do provide a fascinating chronicle of American foreign policy during the Bush administration–thereby reminding us of many things too easily forgotten.

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Eric Alterman. What Liberal Media?

Eric Alterman. What Liberal Media?: The Truth about Bias and the News. Basic Books, 2004.

Though this book is now a bit dated (the main points of reference are the 2000 presidential election) it remains important and perceptive. The problems it addresses have definitely not gone away–and they need to be addressed.

It is discouraging to think that all these years after this book came out and utterly demolished the myth that mainstream American media have a liberal bias, this untruth can still be spouted with at least some effectiveness by people on the Right. In an engagingly written and thoroughly documented survey of how the mainstream media actually works (especially in its unjustified and ultimately tragic hatchet job on Al Gore during the 2000 presidential election), Alterman makes it clear that the corporate media has long been hostile to the social and political Left in this country–and got more and more so by the turn of the century.

Alterman certainly has an agenda, but he is a scholar and writes clearly and mostly non-polemically. He has tons of documentation and examples. This is a strong book. Even if it is a bit dated, it still deserves to be read by anyone who truly wants to understand how it was the the United States has gotten itself into the mess we are in.

 

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Richard Holloway. On Forgiveness

Richard Holloway. On Forgiveness: How Can We Forgive the Unforgivable? Cannongate, 2002.

This is a valuable if somewhat slight and even lightweight book. I had not heard of Holloway before picking up this book, but I gather he is a popular writer in Great Britain, a kind of post-Christian humanist who seeks to inspire and encourage people who do not have formal religious associations. That strikes me as a worthy vocation, and if this book is any indicator, I can imagine that Holloway’s readers do indeed from some guidance and solace for his writings.

As the title indicates, in this essay Holloway addresses one of the most vexing of modern problems–the challenge of how to respond to egregious violations of our humanity and of the humanity of those we love. We can see, if we pay attention, that bitterness and vengeance do not assuage the pain over the long haul and likely even make things worse. But forgiveness is difficult, and also seems unhealthy when it is too quick and superficial.

Holloway does not give quick and easy answers, but he is respectful of the feelings that emerge in such situations and he gives some perceptive guidance for those who can’t simply “turn things over to God.” What results is a wise book, well worth consulting for anyone who does find themselves struggling with the meaning of forgiveness in a harsh and in many ways unforgiving world.

 

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Jane Jacobs. Dark Age Ahead

Jane Jacobs. Dark Age Ahead. Vintage, 2004.

Jane Jacobs, like Studs Terkel and John Kenneth Galbraith, was one of the wonders of the world, a source of powerful inspiration.  All three of these prophets lived nearly to or beyond their 90s as productive, perceptive analysts of the human condition–and purveyors of affirmative, humanistic values to the end–even amidst sharply critical and perceptive evaluations of the modern world.

Jacobs, author of the classic, The Life and Death of Great American Cities, published her final book when she was 88, just two years before her death.  Dark Age Ahead has a grim title. Jacobs argues that our modern, technology-worshiping Western culture is heading into decline–identifying five key areas where she sees this: community and family, higher education, the effective practice of science, taxation and government, and the self-regulation of the learned professions. Most thoughtful readers could easily add to her list.

The several years since this book came out have only reinforced her dire warnings. She does not ultimately despair, though. Throughout her career, Jacobs was able to identify important ways in which human societies do manifest a resilience and inclination toward adaptation that makes humane responses to crises possible. She does so here in her final writings as well. This isn’t exactly a book of big hope, but we do find glimmers. Jacobs’ challenge to us–for which we should be grateful, along with our gratitude for her entire body of work–is to cultivate those glimmers of hope in the belief that humanity is inclined toward healing its problem.

 

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Nicholas Guyatt. Have a Nice Doomsday

Nicholas Guyatt. Have a Nice Doomsday: Why Millions of Americans Are Looking Forward to the End of the World. Harper Perennial, 2007.

Though this book has a fanciful title and is written with a light touch that at times combines a personal travelogue with portraits of the main figures of the North American prophecy scene, Guyatt is a serious scholar with a serious agenda. A history professor at Simon Fraser University and contributor to leftish political periodicals, Guyatt took it upon himself to try to understand the amazing phenomenon of prophecy belief among North American Christians–and its impact on our broader political culture.

He traveled throughout North America, talking with many of the major figures (including Tim Lahaye–though despite his best efforts, Guyatt never manages to secure an audience with Hal Lindsey [he does talk with several of Lindsey’s close associates]). He also has read widely in the literature and perceptively gives us the historical background for this phenomenon.

The result is an engaging and informative portrayal of an important American sub-culture. Guyatt does an impressive job of getting people to talk with him–and largely succeeds at presenting a human (and humane) picture instead of the cardboard caricatures too easily settled for in much critical writing on this topic. And, in the end, Guyatt is critical. He does not let his own distaste for the views of the LaHayes and Lindseys color his reporting–but he is not simply a neutral observer either.

I think this is a fine book. It is readable, engaging, informative, enjoyable, and useful for anyone who wants better to understand this phenomena.

 

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David Leiter. Neglected Voices: Peace in the Old Testament

David A. Leiter. Neglected Voices: Peace in the Old Testament. Herald Press, 2007.

We certainly need more books like this one. Church of the Brethren pastor and Old Testament scholar David Leiter takes on the question of whether peace-oriented Christians should approach the Old Testament more as a problem or more as a positive resource. In helpful ways, he makes a good case for seeing the Old Testament as containing much material that does support our actively seeking peace on earth (and understanding such seeking to be God’s will).

He demonstrates just how important the motif of “shalom” (the Hebrew word usually translated “peace”–though Leiter suggests that the sense shalom carries is significantly bigger than our term “peace”) is throughout the Old Testament. It is good to see a short but comprehensive and persuasive summary of just how central the ideal of shalom is for the ancient Hebrews. 

We then are introduced to several stories showing that nonviolence often played an important role in the resolution of conflicts and in attempts to challenge an unjust status quo. Numerous other ways that peace plays an important role in the Old Testament story are then discussed–including visions and mandates for peace.

Leiter has written a most helpful book–it is concise and clear, and makes its case persuasively. He concludes: “When addressing the concept of peace in the Old Testament, we need not begin by looking at the concept of war and violence. The conversation can start off with a discussion of peace. [I] hope that, [for readers of this book,] when conversation emerges regarding the absence or presence of peace in the Old Testament, [they] will be able to identify various passages and address the blank stares and comments that suggest that peace is non-existent or a sidebar in the Old Testament. On the contrary, peace is a central concept in the Old Testament that gave life to the people of ancient Israel and can give life to us today” (pages 155-56).

An additional contribution the book makes is in Leiter’s thorough bibliographic essay that identifies many resources for people interested in the issue of peace in the Old Testament. Since for many of us, this may be a fairly new issue, such guidance for further reading is to be appreciated.

 

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