Christine E. Gudorf, Body, Sex, and Pleasure:
Reconstructing Christian Sexual Ethics (Pilgrim 1994) Ch. 1: 1-28. 1.
The Necessity for Reconstructing Sexual Ethics For
at least two decades, there have been voices calling for the development
of a sexual theology which would reject body/soul dualism and do justice
to the Incarnation. Ethicists have made many contributions to the
beginnings of such a theology of sexuality with significant
contributions found in the work of people like James Nelson, Beverly
Harrison, and Andre Guindon. Unfortunately, most of this work is not
readily intelligible to the general Christian public still blinkered by
the traditional code of Christian sexual ethics which has formed its
understanding of both sexuality and morality. Our
society is in a crisis over sexuality, in part because the churches have
been paralyzed by fear of stepping away from the confines of the
Christian sexual tradition to develop a responsible sexual ethic which
not only accords with our scientific and experiential insights into
sexuality, but which better accords with our understanding of the
central revelations of the gospel. Society looks to the churches to
provide moral guidance for public policy in many areas, but especially
in sexuality, since the churches have long claimed proprietary interest
in sexual behavior. The unwillingness of the churches to risk abandoning
a familiar but unworkable sexual ethic has left the broader society
without effective moral guidance on sexuality at a time when more and
more public policy issues involve sexuality. The
Dutch Reformed Church of South Africa is today being called to repent
and renounce its traditional teaching on apartheid; the Catholic church
at Vatican II felt required to repent and renounce its historic
anti-Semitism. The same kind of renunciation of traditional teaching in
sexuality, followed by repentance, is necessary on the part of all
Christian churches today in response to the suffering and victimization
it has long supported and legitimated. Churches
can no longer justify presenting inherited Christian treatment of sexual
ethics with only piecemeal modifications or critique. It is past time
that we admit that the reason so many differ with specific conclusions
of inherited sexual ethics is that the entire approach of Christian
sexual ethics has been and is grievously flawed. Gradual, piecemeal
revision is not sufficient. Traditional
Christian sexual ethics is not only inadequate in that it fails to
reflect God's reign of justice and love which Jesus died announcing, but
its legalistic, apologetic approach is also incompatible with central
Judaic and Christian affirmations of creation, life, and an incarnate
messiah. Because the Christian sexual tradition has diverged from this
its life-affirming source, it has become responsible for innumerable
deaths, the stunting of souls, the destruction of relationships, and the
distortion of human communities. The Christian sexual tradition uses
scripture and theological tradition as supports for a code of behavior
which developed out of mistaken, pre-scientific understandings of human
anatomy, physiology, and reproduction, as well as out of now abandoned
and discredited models of the human person and human relationships,. The
churches are still today teaching theological conclusions originally
based in ignorance of women's genetic contribution to offspring,
ignorance of the processes of gender identity and of sexual orientation,
and of the difference between them, and ignorance of the learned basis
of most gender differences—ignorance which has allowed and supported
patriarchy, misogyny, and heterosexism, the assumption that
heterosexuality is normative. We are still teaching a sexual code based
in fear of the body and of sexuality , in understandings of sexual
virtue as the repression of bodily desires by the force of the rational
will, on physicality, especially sexuality,[1]
as an obstacle to spirituality , and on women as lacking reason and only
possessing the image of God through connection to men.[2]
The churches have disowned the Mosaic law's assumption of male
ownership of women and children,[3]
Luther's understanding that women are like nails in a wall, prohibited
by their nature from moving outside their domestic situation,[4]
and Aquinas' teaching that females are misbegotten males, produced from
male embryos by physical or mental debility in the father, or by moist
winds off the Mediterranean.[5] But we continue to teach
most of the sexual moral code which was founded upon such thinking.
The
first step in restructuring Christian sexual ethics is to understand as
best we can human sexuality itself, and in this day and age this means
consulting both biological science and social science, as well as the
experience of human individuals and communities. I do not suggest that
Masters and Johnson or Bell and Weinberg[6] replace the Bible, church
fathers, and the classic theologians as more or less infallible
authorities. Sexuality is a social construct in which biology is only
one part. Neither are the social sciences of themselves capable of
defining or interpreting human sexuality. But we must take seriously the
broad areas of scientific consensus regarding reproduction, sexual
response, sexual difference, and the development of sexual identity and
orientation. It means, for example, that we admit into our discussions
of what is "natural" sexual behavior the fact that human
infants' second instinctual physical feat, after satisfying oral
gratification, is manual genital stimulation, and that infants under one
year are observed to produce all the signs of orgasm through
self-stimulation.[7] As
in other areas of ethics, we need to begin doing ethics with a
description of the reality of our situation. Only after this can we turn
to theological reflection regarding the meaning and significance of the
various factual elements we have described. To do social analysis—the
investigation of the surrounding reality—in sexual ethics will involve
using not only the tools of social science that we are accustomed to
using in social ethics, but the biological medical sciences as well. For
the influences on sexual behavior include our individual genetic
inheritances, the worldview and customs inculcated by our specific
culture and society, the shape of the economy and political system in
our society, and our social location within that society. It
is often mistakenly assumed that the hard sciences are normative in a
way that the social sciences are not. But it is not the case that
medical‑biological research describes the givenness of human
sexuality, and social sciences such as sociology and psychology only
present facts about changeable responses of human persons. The
biological sciences are fallible even in the twentieth century. Until
relatively recently medical science taught that there were only two
sexes, identified by an XX or an XY pair of chromosomes. Now we know
that there are over 70 sex chromosomal abnormalities; that within the
human population are numbers of persons with triple X, XYY, and single X
chromosomal make‑up—information with tremendous importance for
human sexuality.[8]
How can the biological sciences be both foundational and
fallible? Because the findings of scientific research must be
interpreted in order to be assembled into larger models of reality, and
the human reason which performs the interpretation and assembly is
fallible. Despite the large number of scientific
experiments—flawlessly repeated—which demonstrated that humans who
exhibited male body characteristics turned out to have XY chromosomal
structure and humans who exhibited female body characteristics turned
out to have XX chromosomal characteristics, it subsequently became clear
that interpreting these as the only two patterns was not justified. We
must always work on the basis of what we can know at the moment,
recognizing that there may always be missing pieces which, when known,
will significantly alter the general interpretation. But the very
history of recent scientific work in sexuality should serve as a
constant reminder that science is one, often fallible, tool for
understanding creation, and not a method of defining, much less
controlling in any final way, any aspect of God's dynamically developing
creation. In
sexuality as well as other areas of human life, we must steer a course
between, on the one hand, the human arrogance that causes unforeseen
disasters by impelling intervention in systems incompletely understood,
and on the other hand, a rigid refusal to accept the human role of
co‑creator through responsible intervention when necessary. At the
present moment in the AIDS crisis, for example, the global community
must resist the temptation to regard the pandemic as the hand of God at
work in the world against which human efforts are both sacrilegious and
ultimately doomed. At the same time the global community must resist two
related temptations. The first is to assume the possibility of a
technological fix which removes the need for rethinking and
resocializing global patterns of sexuality. The second is to assume that
since a technological fix is possible, any shortcuts to that fix can be
morally justified, even morally required, despite their danger to
specific communities. The
social sciences provide additional limits to moral reflection on
sexuality: it is social science which has illustrated the tremendous
influence of culture on sexuality, an influence which extends into every
area of sexual organization and behavior, as well as determines
understandings of the significance of sexuality and sexual relationship.[9]
It is social science which has demonstrated the folly of assuming
any universal, natural code of sexual morality. Once
we have discerned contemporary scientific consensus regarding the
general parameters limiting the social construction of sexuality, we can
begin to ask what reflection on our Christian experience has to say
about sexuality. Christian experience is a broad, multifaceted reality
which includes the experiences of the early church recorded in
scripture, the teachings of later church communities and of theologians
of different cultures and races up to the present, as well as the
contemporary experience of people today all over the world. Lisa
Cahill, in Between the Sexes,[10]
proposes four sources for a Christian sexual ethics: scripture,
theological tradition, philosophical accounts of the human, and
descriptive accounts of the lived reality of persons and societies.
While I appreciate her nuanced understanding that none of these sources
is either determinative or always primary, and that the weight of each
source will change in particular cases depending on how its direction
agrees with or diverges from those of the other sources, I am
dissatisfied with the disproportionate weight given the traditional
Christian religious sources. That is, the anti‑sexual attitude of
the Christian West permeates the theological and Christian philosophical
traditions as well as much of the New Testament, and a related misogyny
winds through these three and the Old Testament as well. The fourth
source—"descriptive accounts of what is the case in human lives
and societies"—is often too insufficiently developed to be able
to counteract this inherited anti‑sexual and/or misogynist bias in
the other sources. This
fourth source is not precise enough. It collapses the most objective
knowledge we have—e.g., of the human reproductive process—with the
evaluations of individuals, of academic disciplines and professions, and
of entire societies regarding the interpretation and value of sexual
activity. We should not either absolutize science as the interpreter of
sexuality, or treat science or scientific method as infallible. We must
maintain an understanding of sexuality, and of human nature, as social
constructions limited by biological/psychological realities. We must
preserve a critical approach to the inevitable ideology present even in
science, despite continuing popular and professional assumptions that
science, both hard and soft science, is value‑free. But Christian
ethics cannot responsibly ignore or deny the general areas of scientific
consensus regarding sexuality. Once those parameters are established,
ethical reflection can proceed to discern "meaning"—to look
at interpretations and evaluations of sexuality in scripture, in
theological tradition, and in contemporary theological, philosophical,
and literary, as well as general popular, thought. It seems
incontestable that science—all the scientific disciplines
together—has replaced philosophy as the privileged discipline for
describing humanity, in this case human sexuality. Science is no more
infallible than philosophy was in interpreting human sexuality, and the
time may come when scientific understanding of humanity, like philosophy
at the dawn of the scientific age, becomes less fruitful than other
paths of investigation. But for the moment, despite the arrogance and
presumption of contemporary science, despite all its limitations in
defining the human, we are forced to acknowledge that the sciences have
revolutionized human understanding of our sexuality in the twentieth
century, and, at least for the present, continue to add more pieces than
any other sources to the puzzle that is human sexuality.
In
doing sexual ethics, or any other Christian ethics, we must be both
consistent and explicit about our use of scripture. Most Christian
ethicists, by training, turn to scripture as a primary resource in doing
ethics. There are a number of different approaches to scripture among
Christian ethicists and even some who seldom make explicit reference to
scripture. Though it is possible to address sexuality meaningfully in
Christian terms without reference to scriptural texts, and though a
strong case can be made for scripture being largely unhelpful in sexual
matters, I agree with Elisabeth Schüssler Fiorenza that popular
attitudes toward scripture as revealed truth make it necessary to deal
with scripture if one is to address the majority of Christians.[11]
However, it is not enough to demand that ethicists address
scripture in treating sexuality or other contemporary ethical matters.
Frequently the only ethicists who clarify their approach to scripture
are those specifically addressing the methodological relationship of
scripture to ethics. Ethicists addressing other issues, about which
scripture is a source, seldom explain what degree of authority they
ascribe to scripture, or whether that authority is equally distributed
among all texts, much less the justification for that authority or the
criteria for discerning what is authoritative within specific texts.
Some of this silence stems from a failure to comprehend the profound
degree of ignorance about basic scriptural scholarship which
characterizes the general Christian audience; many ethicists have so
thoroughly absorbed scriptural criticism and have lived so long in
universities and seminaries that they miscalculate the needs of their
audience and thereby reinforce many of the very attitudes towards
scripture which they oppose. Some ethicists select texts which support
their particular interpretation; some ethicists survey scriptural texts
dealing with their specific topic and point out problems with
interpreting them or contradictions between them. Sometimes this latter
involves limited exegesis demonstrating that the text has been
misinterpreted or was influenced by prevailing customs of the time (as
if all texts were not influenced by the culture and history out of which
they emerged!). None of these approaches tackles the authority question
directly; virtually all assume a "hermeneutics of consent,"
rather than the "hermeneutics of suspicion" which Elisabeth
Schüssler Fiorenza suggests is appropriate in approaching scripture.[12]
Most
Christians tend to approach scripture as revealed truth and to assume
that the truth scripture reveals is ordinarily self‑evident. For
this reason, when ethicists treat scripture as a primary source, but
fail to make critical distinctions regarding the authority of scripture,
they reinforce in the popular mind the tendency to revere all of
scripture as revelatory. Since
the majority of scripture scholars seem to regard scripture as a kind of
intricate historical and anthropological puzzle to be explored, and are
impatient with demands that they discern what contemporary meaning can
be found in scripture, ethicists must, for the most part, use a great
deal of discernment in using scriptural scholarship. Nevertheless,
scripture scholarship is far beyond the point where we can ignore the
fact that scripture is not only revelatory, but also
counter‑revelatory. That is, there are clear scriptural messages
which run counter to the character and will of the God we worship. This
is a far more important issue than the evidence of historical inaccuracy
in scripture, or the evidence of differing accounts of the same event,
from creation to the accounts of the Resurrection. It is not enough to
say that scripture is conditioned by the person and context of its
writers. We need to admit that sometimes the scriptural
authors/redactors and their communities either misinterpreted or
completely reversed the content of God's revelation. It is not enough to
point out that two texts contradict one another, for so strong is
confidence in the revelatory character of scripture that audiences are
fully capable of concluding that we are not able to reconcile the texts,
but that such a task is possible, given another perspective or a more
gifted interpreter. We need to connect contradictory texts to the
conflicting acts they legitimate in order to demonstrate the necessity
for choosing between the meanings of texts. Arguably,
sexuality is the area of ethics demanding the greatest clarification in
order to show the general Christian audience that scripture is sometimes
counter‑revelatory, that not only are some direct scriptural
imperatives and statements of theological fact mistaken but the message
conveyed in countless stories is also false in terms of human experience
of God. There can be little doubt that the authors of Genesis 34, Judges
19, and II Samuel 13 meant that the accounts of the rapes of Dinah, the
Levite's concubine, and Tamar were to be a clear message to the reader
that injury in Israel was to be avenged in order that God's justice
prevail. Yet as Marie Fortune makes clear, the primary message of these
passages conveyed to readers today, which was an unreflected assumption
in the authors' societies, is that women were property whose welfare was
not important in itself (for nothing was done to redress their loss).[13]
The injury to the welfare of these women was important only as an
affront to their male owners and their colleagues, who take revenge on
the women's attackers. And today we wonder why it is necessary to
counsel so many fathers and husbands of rape victims that their primary
role is to deal with the hurts and fears of their daughters and wives,
rather than to dedicate themselves to personal vendettas against the
rapists? Similarly,
the author of Leviticus 18:6‑18 presented the law against incest
as one against sexual union with near kin, because that would be union
with one's own flesh, a practice which was to distinguish the Canaanites
from the Israelites. Yet when the author cites a long list of persons
with whom a man is forbidden sexual congress, it includes not only his
parents, his sisters, his aunts, and his granddaughters—his blood
kin—but also his sisters-in‑law, his
daughters‑in‑law, and his aunts by marriage, none of whom
are blood kin. However, Fortune notes that few commentators have noted
that the list fails to mention a man's closest blood kin, his own sons
and daughters, in the list of kin with which he is forbidden sexual
congress.[14]
As Fortune points out, the inclusions and omissions of the list
are much better explained in terms of respect for the ownership rights
of men over women and children than in terms of respect for the sexual
integrity of near kin.[15]
All those named in the list, though they may be under the
practical control of the patriarch of an extended family (in the case of
the patriarch's father, the father may be helpless and senile from old
age), are nevertheless formally recognized as responsible to themselves
as men or to some other man. The major effect of the incest taboo here
was to limit the sexual prerogatives of the patriarch, and to protect
the property of other men in the family. The emphasis given men's
property rights in women and children and the general failure to
attribute any sexual autonomy to women elsewhere in the Old Testament
give indirect support to such an interpretation. Judges 11 presents the unnamed daughter of Jephthah as pleasing to Yahweh because she agrees that she should be sacrificed to Yahweh to satisfy her father's vow in return for Yahweh's having allowed Jephthah's victory over the Ammonites.[16] When we fail to point to these stories, and to point out what acceptance of such stories as revelatory says about the character and will of the God they supposedly reveal, we promote idolatry—the worship of a false God. Because of the patriarchy and misogyny which permeate scripture, it is crucial in sexual ethics that we do not merely select the more positive texts, or merely point out biblical texts which conflict with each other, but that we are clear that not all of scripture is revelatory, that some is counter‑revelatory. This is as true of the New Testament as of the Hebrew Scriptures, as we shall see. This need points to a second,
closely connected proposal. We should not be surprised that a great deal
of the theological tradition, as well as scripture, which deals directly
with sexuality is not revelatory. Schüssler Fiorenza, dealing with
women's leadership in the New Testament, suggests that it is the
liberatory practice of the New Testament community, which the texts
attempt to reverse, and not the practice urged by the texts themselves,
which is revelatory.[17]
This is a very effective way to deal with the issue of revelation
regarding some scriptural issues. However, Schüssler Fiorenza never
proposed universalizing this approach. The scriptural texts depicting
women and children as property of men did not have that property status
as the point of the texts, but as the taken‑for‑granted
background of the texts. The intended messages of these texts did not
concern the status of women and children, but rather concerned the
status, and relationships and rights of men vis‑à‑vis other
men. The dismissal of texts as revelatory must be done on a text-by‑text basis, but it is apparent to all persons not blinded by idolatrous, uncritical worship of scripture or theological tradition that both are permeated not only with patriarchy and misogyny but also with anti‑sexual attitudes which are in conflict with the central messages of the gospel. James Nelson has made clear that the foundational meaning of the Incarnation—the complete unity of human and divine natures in the fully embodied Word—is nullified if we accept the Gnostic‑influenced, anti‑sexual attitudes of the Fathers and their theological successors.[18] The anti‑body,, anti-sexual attitudes which have predominated through most of Christian history are at curious odds with Christian insistence that Jesus Christ was fully human, born of a human mother, suffered bodily pain and death, and was bodily resurrected. One would expect that Christians, compared to other world religions, would be clearest about the goodness of the body and most accepting of embodied expressions of love. Traditional acceptance of patriarchy and misogyny in the churches undermines both Jesus' insistence on a discipleship of service, not domination, as well as his parables and example establishing radical inclusivity as the symbol of the reign of God.[19] What records we have of Jesus tell us virtually nothing about his approach to sexuality, either personally or pedagogically, except for his radical openness to women which he demonstrated in the inclusion of women in his travelling band, contrary to the practices of the day (Lk. 8:1‑3), in his inclusion of parables from women's activities such as housecleaning (Lk. 15:8‑9) and baking bread (Mt. 13:33), in his refusing Martha's request to make Mary accept women's domestic role rather than join Jesus and the disciples (Lk. 10:38‑42), and in his disregarding customs limiting women's social intercourse with males to family members (John 4:7‑29, esp. 9 and 27). The later excessive weight given to sexuality—and to very negative approaches to sexuality—in Christian discipleship is not supported by what we know of the life and teachings of Jesus Christ. I do not advocate setting aside the Christian sexual tradition on the grounds that it doesn't appeal to us today, or that it is historically conditioned. Of course it is historically conditioned, as is all scripture and theology, including our own. But we are compelled to jettison large parts of the Christian sexual tradition for two interconnected reasons. First, large parts of the Christian sexual tradition are incompatible with the God we experience and worship. The discovery of such incompatibility has been the source of innumerable changes in the Christian tradition from its very beginning. In the Acts of the Apostles, for example, the apostles and elders of the church in Jerusalem were initially certain that Jesus' teaching that he had been sent to the Jews constrained the church to insist that the Gentiles convert to Judaism in order to become followers of Jesus. Nevertheless, they were later persuaded by arguments such as Peter's—that since faith was God's gift, and since their experience was that the gift of faith was already present among the Gentiles, God had evidently decided to admit Gentiles to the Christian community.[20] Experience is always open to fallible interpretation, but the bottom line is that experience is, and always has been, the most reliable source for discerning God's will. Today it is experience of sexuality within the contemporary church which has led many to question or reject those aspects of the Christian tradition which present sexuality as morally dangerous or sinful, devoid of the capacity to reveal God. In constructing ethical and theological arguments supporting such rejection of the anti‑sexual tradition, equal stress should be given to the experiential basis of the rejection, rather than focusing exclusively on locating supportive texts from scripture or the classic theologians. Rejection of anti‑sexual attitudes in the tradition should not be primarily based on intra‑traditional grounds (if it were, the rejection would have taken place centuries ago) but rather on positive experience of sexuality. Secondly, internal contradiction, beginning with the New Testament itself, forces us to set aside large parts of the Christian tradition. There can be little doubt that contradiction exists between Gal. 3:28, "There is no longer Jew nor Greek, slave nor free, male and female, for you are all one in Christ Jesus," and the household code "Wives, be subject to your husbands as is fitting in the Lord .... Husbands, love your wives, and do not be harsh with them" (Col. 3:18). The first denies the difference which grounds dominant/subordinate relations, while the second reinforces those same dominant/subordinate relations. We must choose one or the other. When we deny the necessity of choosing between these contradictory texts, we transform Galatians' denial of difference into an affirmation of a romanticized, abstract, and non‑relational equality which is not affected when some persons own, control, and use others. In the same vein, contrast 1 Timothy 2:15, "Yet woman will be saved through childbearing," with Jesus' words in Luke 11:2728, "As he said this, a woman in the crowd raised her voice and cried, ‘Blessed is the womb that bore you, and the breasts that gave you suck!'" But he said, "Blessed rather are those who hear the word of God and keep it!" Women are saved either by the exercise of their reproductive function or by following the path of discipleship laid out by Jesus for men and women alike; these are clearly two very different claims. Again and again in scripture, and in subsequent theological tradition, texts conflict, and we must choose that which accords better with the overall message of the gospel as that gospel is experienced in our individual lives and in communities. Experience often causes some radical revision in the interpretation of texts. For example, over the last 20 years in my own Roman Catholic church, there has been some very radical revision in the interpreted meaning of Luke 10:38‑42, the story of Jesus' refusal to rebuke Mary for not joining Martha in the kitchen. For centuries, the prevailing Catholic interpretation was that Jesus was commending Mary's choice of a life of vowed contemplation (as a priest, brother, or sister) over Martha's choice of a life as a layperson amid the cares of the world.[21] Today the debate over women's roles in contemporary society is so extensive that it is difficult to miss this story's message about the inclusion of women in discipleship. There is also a greater awareness that Jesus rejected John the Baptist's ascetic withdrawal from the world as a model for ministry, and understood withdrawal from the world, as in his temptation in the desert, or his periodic fleeing from the crowds, as moments of preparation for ministry.[22] Jesus went from town to town, and to Jerusalem itself, seeking out the popular masses. He made himself available to the sick, and sent out his disciples to heal and to teach in the towns and villages. Neither Jesus' Jewish society nor the records we have of Jesus' life and teaching placed great value on a life devoted to solitary prayer and contemplation to the exclusion of service to concrete human persons. As our world and our experience continue to change, there will doubtless be other, new interpretations of the meanings of scriptural texts. Every generation must reinterpret scripture anew, and that reinterpretation includes weighing the value of scriptural texts.
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