I’ve stayed in the Christian
tradition because the Jesus of the Religious Right is
not the one that I experienced when I was five years
old, nor the Jesus found in the pages of the Bible.
Therefore, I write what follows in the service of
communities I know and love: those who follow Jesus
(especially if they disagree with me about queer
sexualities), and queer men of every description. Some
of us queers, I find, wish that we could find a way to
cut through the Church’s bullshit, longing to find some
solace in a Christ who really is “good news” for us. We
are tired of being hit over the head by a heterosexual,
heterosexist, pro- (“traditional”) family Christ (and
His misogynistic, abusive Father) whom certain kinds of
Christians portray as “saviour”—well, as long as we look
like them.
A close reading of the canonical Gospels shows, in
contrast, that Jesus said absolutely nothing about
homosexual sex between men; was decidedly disinterested
in patriarchal marriage; asserted the necessity of
faithfulness in marriage for both men and women; and
de-emphasized “blood family” to a shocking degree for
his culture and time period. The Gospels of Matthew,
Mark, Luke, and John are “theological biographies” that
contain the historical witness to the life and teachings
of Jesus. Some Jesus scholars believe these documents
contain very little “history”; instead, they tell us
quite a lot more about what early Christians thought of
Jesus. In contrast, others believe that the authors knew the
importance of truthfully recording history (albeit with
a “believing” bias). In other words, some scholars say
that the writers made up stories because they had a
particular theology; others say that the happenings
reported in the Gospels are the concrete historical
basis for the theology that developed in early Christian
communities. [1] I
fit into the latter category.
Granting this assumption, I will use
material drawn from the Gospels to suggest ways in which
Jesus can become a resource for queer masculinities.
My reading critiques many aspects of queer
masculinities or queer male communities; a queer Jesus
still challenges all who love justice and peace—
especially those who name the name of Christ—to live in
a way that actually reflects what we say. “The personal
is political,” – so the feminists tell us – and in a
culture where personal faith in Jesus supposedly props
up a great deal of political activism on both the right
and left, that is all the justification I need for my
investigation.
I can’t make the entire Christian
tradition safe for queer men. A project that ambitious
would take several volumes and even then isn’t
guaranteed success. I can only sketch an outline of
Christ as a friend to queer men – someone capable, with
our help, of undoing the damage of Christian theological
heritage from the inside. With this modest goal,
perhaps others more capable than I can join the
continuing project of “befriending the text,” reading it
from their own experiences of queerness to see if it can
express “good news” for our queer lives. When quoting the gospels, I use
the New Revised Standard Version, which
employs inclusive language when referring to humanity and
reflects a mainstream (rather than right-wing
Evangelical) method of translation.
Jesus and Women
Luke 10:38-42 (New Revised Standard
Version)
38 Now
as they went on their way, he entered a certain village,
where a woman named Martha welcomed him into her home.
39 She had a sister named Mary, who sat at
the Lord's feet and listened to what he was saying.
40 But Martha was distracted by her many
tasks; so she came to him and asked, "Lord, do you not
care that my sister has left me to do all the work by
myself? Tell her then to help me." 41 But
the Lord answered her, "Martha, Martha, you are worried
and distracted by many things; 42 there is
need of only one thing [or few things are necessary,
or only one]. Mary has chosen the better
part, which will not be taken away from her." [Brackets
indicate an alternate reading found in the margin of the
NRSV text.]
I have a confession to
make. I loved the story of Mary and Martha
growing up, because I hated chores. I live with a
disability—Cerebral Palsy. It leaves me a wee bit gimpy;
though I get around reasonably well, I hate pushing
around a vacuum cleaner, standing at the sink doing
dishes, or sweeping floors. I was thoroughly incompetent
at sports (despite my stepdad’s efforts to “toughen me
up” by teaching me to bicycle, play baseball and soccer,
and even to jump rope). Neither did I like drawing or
piano very much—mostly because I felt that my dad pushed
me way too hard. I just felt clumsy, lazy, and stupid.
(Thanks to neuropsychological testing, I now know my
“spatial orientation” is in the fifth percentile, far
below average.)
Instead, I found joy in reading and
creative writing – and, oftentimes, you might’ve found
me in my room, singing about Jesus. My dad figured that
I wasn’t busy enough around the house—he once accused me
of “sloth” for sleeping in past 10 AM on a weekend—but I
would remember that Jesus was on Mary’s side.
Neither chores nor obsession with productivity, I
decided, were of first importance, after all.
At first blush, this text
would probably rankle most feminist men or women from
any number of angles: Martha is in the kitchen, the
traditional domicile of the woman, supporting the
evidently more important work of a man (even one as
nice as Jesus). Her sister Mary isn’t much better—why is
she sitting at the feet of a man, simply accepting what
he says? From this position, we might think that Martha
rescues Mary from abject intellectual servitude;
if Mary is in the kitchen, she is in woman-space, at one
remove from direct manipulation by a man (even one as
nice as Jesus).
Or taking another tack, doesn’t Jesus
sound like an intellectual snob? In this circumstance,
isn’t he being a little unreasonable? Oh, come on,
Jesus, we might say. Who’s going to cook dinner
if we’re all just sitting around? Aren’t you tired after
a long day preaching revolution in the countryside?
Besides, we might add, who’s going to throw this
fabulous party without any food? Mary chose “the better
part”? Surely, Jesus, your rebuke is a little harsh!
Martha (Stewart) fits a latent Protestant work ethic
that many of us—including me!—carry in our hearts... (continue reading)
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2 COMMENTS ON THIS ESSAY:
I keep wanting to correct the tiny typos that I see...especially the last sentence: "The peace of Christ be yours." LOL. Minor thing!
Fantastic essay! I think one of the most exciting ideas suggested by your essay is the idea of adopting a subversive masculinity, a masculinity of which Jesus (at least in this characterization) is a superb example. I also appreciated the inclusion of a critique of our postmodern disdain for metanarratives. While I think this disdain arises quite naturally out of the radical critiques and the sheer volume of alternative readings of "important" texts that have accompanied poststructuralism and deconstruction, I also think there are radical possibilities (and even something of a practical imperative) to be found in reconstructing metanarratives on a wider, more inclusive foundation, by weaving together the millions of personal narratives that structure our daily existences, as queer men, as masculine, as feminists, as people of color, as people with disabilities, etc. - that out of this melting pot or mosaic or what have you, certain patterns begin to emerge and it is these patterns that offer us an opportunity to write our own story, our own grand narrative and lend our movement direction, sweeping up the whole of humanity in its march forward. This is just a flowery way of suggesting that the problem lies not with these grand narratives, but with their exclusivity. I also thought your approach to forgiveness was refreshing. I think what I've found missing in some of the essays was a failure to question or seek forgiveness for our own transgressions against one another or understand our attackers. On the surface this doesn't sound very radical, until you realize that we ourselves are the attackers at times and that change begins with ourselves. Wow, that was a lot more than I was going to write. Anyway: Thank You!