Cleopatra, Sex and Women’s Rights (2nd Edit)

Cleopatra VII ruled Egypt for twenty-two years. She lost a kingdom, regained it, amassed an empire, and lost it all. A goddess as a child, a queen at eighteen, she was an object of speculation and veneration, a living myth in her own time. At the height of her power she controlled virtually the entire eastern Mediterranean coast, the last great kingdom of any Egyptian ruler, and for a brief moment she held the fate of the Western world in her hands. She died – spectacularly and sensationally – at the age of thirty-nine, a generation before the birth of Christ. Shakespeare spoke of her infinite variety.

He had no idea.

And yet the enduring impression of Cleopatra two thousand years later is one of a sexy seductress; a bedeviling Egyptian siren that lured the two most powerful men of her age into her bed. (Julius Caesar, and later his protégé, Marc Antony) 

But who cares about an ancient Egyptian Queen. What difference does her life and our interpretation of it even matter? And why is Cleopatra still relevant, all these years later?

Considering the number of plays and poems and volumes that have been written about one her, it’s impossible to cover a fingernail’s worth of the complexity of her story. There are occasions, however, when even a quick overview like this can be helpful. Especially in a culture that prefers simple, binary snapshots of great historical figures.

Historically, women have been viewed in two ways. Madonna. (Virgin, the Mother) Or Whore. (Seductress, Siren)

These are, generally speaking, not only the historical definitions of women, but the way we still tend to categorize them. Interestingly, most people don’t realize that the gender division in Western culture was largely fostered by the Romans (especially during the Republic), who had very clear ideas about men and women and their roles in culture.

Julius Caesar was certainly one of those men. He’d just defeated his rival, the great general Pompei, when he arrived in Alexandria in 48 BCE, hoping to settle Egypt and collect the massive debt Cleopatra’s father had racked up in buying off the inevitable Roman advance. He did not expect to be captivated by an eighteen year old queen. Certainly not one who had been forced to sneak into her own house to avoid her murderous brother and his army. Cleopatra was not just another queen, however, even for the powerful and accomplished genius that was Caesar. This teenager was the direct descendant of Alexander the Great, a Macedonian Greek and the prodigy of generations of the Ptolemic Empire. She spoke nine languages, was well versed in military affairs, and even in a time when women rulers were no rarity, she stood out. She was a charismatic speaker and the first Ptolemy to learn the language of the people she ruled. And yet though little was said of her beauty (she was likely somewhat plain) she is remembered as a seductress.

Um, what?

Months after the Civil War had ended, Caesar remained in Alexandria, and there’s little doubt that he stayed because of Cleopatra and shared her bed.

That harlot.

At least, that’s how she was considered by Roman historians like Plutarch. You could make a case she was only protecting her kingdom, that Caesar was purely a political conquest and she needed a powerful ally if she was going to keep Egypt independent. You could also consider those who wished her dead (which in the tradition of the highly interbred Ptolemies meant family members regularly murdered on another) and suggest that she had no other choice.

Or, you could do the unthinkable and suggest that it was Caesar who seduced the young queen. As great as Cleopatra was to become, Caesar was perhaps the most brilliant and powerful ruler in Western history; a handsome and striking womanizer who we recognize as one of the few humans to change the course of the world. Unlike Caesar, who relied on brains and wit and courage to conquer much of the known world, according to the historians, Cleopatra used her father’s riches and sex to accomplish the same tasks. When we discuss Cleopatra, ultimately the discussion revolves around her looks, ironically the most opaque part of what is known about her. Amazingly, we still find it difficult to imagine a woman using something other than sex to conquer as a ruler.

When Cleopatra later coupled with Marc Antony, years after Caesar had been assassinated, Roman officers still couldn’t fathom a woman being involved in military matters. Even in the face of overwhelming evidence of her ability, they would complain to Antony about her presence in the command tents.

The irony, sad as it is, is that Rome’s legacy (Western Culture), still divides its culture by gender two thousand years later.

More than two millennia removed from one of the greatest leaders in history and many are still wondering when women will learn their “place.” We still have leaders and people who doubt the ability of a woman to rule. Certainly most of the major religions have little time for women in leadership, with only some exceptions. Christians continued the Roman tradition of the Republic and later the Empire regarding its view of women. And Islam, an offshoot of Judaism and Christianity, followed the same tradition. What’s inexcusable is how little our so-called religious leaders know their history. A Christian “manual” for women published in 2011, for example, explains that girls are supposed to be soft and feminine and men are designed to be strong. It offers “proof” of this by noting how little girls preferred to twirl in front of the mirror, while little boys prefer to flex their muscles.

That such nonsense dominates our culture is all the more amazing when we realize that two thousand years ago, one of the most brilliant and accomplished people in history faced the same question many women face today, for the very same reason.

She did, however, leave us a legacy we should not soon forget; a continual reminder that dividing people by gender, in regards to power and ability and tendencies, is not only ignorant, but easily exposes the prejudice beneath it. That prejudice here in the West, a legacy of the Romans and their historians, is one we should address, and change accordingly.

-Steve

NOTE: Ancient Egypt had some of the most egalitarian laws in history. Women had nearly as many rights as men, and they were known for their advancement and culture and education. Following Cleopatra’s death, however, those rights slowly eroded, and when Islam eventually became the religion of the land those rights disappeared altogether. This was clearly in evidence in 2011 during the riots in Egypt, when Egyptian men were caught on video screaming at the protesting women to go back into the kitchen and mind the house, something an ancient Roman would have said.

From the Archives: Church is for Women… Or is it?

Authour's Note: As I explained in this tab, occasionally I'll be wading through old articles I've posted. Part of that is to help me chronicle my own journey, and part of it is to shed light on just how much our views change through the years as we experience different things and learn from past mistakes. This article was posted originally on Saturday January 20, 2007, nearly three and a half years ago. Aside from the writing, which needed some editing but still didn't thrill me, the view here is one I now disagree with in a variety of ways. Following the article, I'll post my follow up, which I'll keep to five hundred words. (And if you've been on this blog before, you know that five hundred words is truly a summation for me.)This post, by the way, is dedicated to my friend Zack, who suggested this idea. Hope you enjoy the new feature, everyone. As always, comments are welcome.

Church is For Women

The door jingled as I walked inside Blessings, the small Christian bookstore I'd found when I'd first moved to Ottawa. I strolled through the store, amidst the tables of nic nacs and Jesus figurines while the music played softly in the background. Every time I entered a Christian bookstore I had a strange sense that I was walking into a women's section of the library. It hadn't bothered me in the past, as I was more at home in quiet bookstore than I was in a garage. Lately, however, I'd started to notice things. Mainly, I'd come to notice just how feminine the church had become.

I headed to the men's section. I browsed through the titles, and went to another aisle before realizing that the men's titles were all located on just the one shelf. Slim pickings. As usual. It wasn't the publisher's fault however, as every Christian writer knew that women purchased more than 85% of any books sold through Christian retail. No wonder they tailored their stores – with the soft music and rose colored walls – towards women. Still, it made me shake my head. When I finished my shopping and headed out a few minutes later, I wondered if my friends would have been comfortable in a store like that. Might as well be buying flowers.

Lately I'd been doing a fair bit of reading about the church, in particular the place of men within the church, and lately I'd begun to notice some discrepancies, discrepancies that had me and some others worried. Particularly the lack of men, especially 'manly men', in the church. I'd never really noticed it before, but there was a reason for that. The statistics for church attendance were alarming. George Barna had found a gender gap of over 13 million (more women attending church) in the U. S. As well, twenty to twenty-five per cent of married women in the church were going alone. Any one who had worked in a church understood this. I remembered my time as a pastor. I remembered the women who came alone, and I remembered how much we (the pastoral staff) leaned on the women to run the programs. Except for the deacons, it was hard to find men consistently in the building. Perhaps one of the greatest misperceptions of the modern church was the idea that it was patriarchal. More like a frosted cake, below the frosting of ministers and clergy, still predominantly men, most of the church's programs were run by and for women. This whole idea about men 'missing' in the church was something of a revelation to me, understandable I suppose for the fact that I related to the men and women who attended church quite well. I was artistic. I liked small conversations. I liked teaching. I also enjoyed singing and music and learning. Unfortunately, most men just weren't built that way. I decided that the next Sunday I would step back and take a closer look at the Sunday service, which so many authors seemed to suggest had only become increasingly feminine.

The first thing that struck me was how NICE-ly everything was arranged, how NICE the people were, and how it fit with the elevator style music softly leaking over the sound system. I hung up my jacket and strolled into the sanctuary, greeting people along the way. By the time the service started, I'd already had about ten small conversations filled with warm fluff and lots of smiles. After brief announcements, we started singing. We sang for a good thirty minutes before one of our pastors and some others delivered some more announcements, all of which were presented in soft, smiling voices. Our senior pastor finally rose to speak, and after a short prayer, delivered a forty-five minute teaching that was both interesting and long. I say 'long', because as I imagined myself as a non-artistic man in the congregation, I wondered how good it felt to be back in school for an hour and a half every Sunday morning. Not only school, but taking a feminist course on relationships and submission and passive interaction. And then there was the soft music, the emphasis on relationships and small talk, the almost desperate longing for people to be NICE. And through it all, if you listened closely enough, you could almost hear the unconscious murmur... Don't rock the boat. We're all safe here. What was dangerous and manly about that? Where was the adventure and pulsing life that men longed for?

Church, for whatever reason, had become an exercise for women and artists and passive types who relished security over risk, who longed for relationship over greatness, programs over projects. Something had happened between now and that daring New Testament church that was filled with 'manly men', risk takers and adventurous types who understood that becoming a Christian did not mean more tea and crumpets. I wasn't sure what we could do about it, but it was something I needed to think about, because the more we excluded men from our churches, the more feminine they would become...

(RESPONSE)

A Feminine Church? Huh?

You notice it most often when you go out to a bar or pub and people are drinking, and therefore more uninhibited, but you see in restaurants, too. The harshness in conversations, the veiled threats, the simmering arguments, the passive aggressive comments, all made by people who have voluntarily chosen to be out together. Family, friends with friends, or worse, two people involved in some kind of romantic relationship. Coming out of the church "bubble", the one thing you notice almost immediately is how often people are NOT nice to each other. And while we can argue that too often we use "niceness" as a measurement for a person's character, it is the sign of social discipline to be in a place where niceness is prevalent, and it has nothing to do with gender. It's about safety.

When I wrote that piece nearly four years ago, I was immersed in church culture. Since then I've changed cities and moved twice, and haven't really found a church home yet. These days I'm well outside the bubble. I'm outside the safety of a place that's warm and welcoming and filled with genial small talk. I no longer see it as some kind of challenge to my supposed "manliness", whatever that means, but a welcome respite from most days where that social discipline does not exist.

The idea that a church needs to be more "manly", is frankly ridiculous. And while some of the erotic tendencies within the "worship music" industry are disturbing – as a straight male, singing about Jesus as my lover is, err, uncomfortable – the service itself no more reflects a feminine nature than a library (the woman section of the library, was I kidding?) or gym reflects its purpose. The purpose of meeting together each week as Christians is not to raise our own particular idea of gender awareness and compensate for our insecurities. It is a time of encouragement, meditation, and corporate prayer designed to help us push each other towards a life that better reflects that of Jesus. Or at least, our idea of Jesus.

The idea that "church" is feminine speaks primarily to men who feel that they have somehow lost the "adventure" within their own lives, which is a result of feeling emasculated by either their jobs or relationships. But addressing it through gender stereotypes is a disaster waiting to happen. In fact, I can't think of another, single thing more capable of destroying both individuals and relationships than this emphasis on what is male and what is female. A quick glance at other cultures and history books reveals that gender distinctions are as real a dividing line as the Prime Meridian. What they end up doing is creating more insecurity in those who do not "fit" the normative male or female patterns. (I love to dance. I love to read and write. Does that make me feminine?) According to my old way of thinking, women not only don't like adventure, they don't enjoy challenges or anything outside of shopping, flowers and children, either.

Understand that none of this has anything to do with what it means to be a Christian. Sure, it gives us a sense of being safe in our roles, but the problem being safe is what walked us down this road in the first place. Want more adventure in your life? Stop taking crap from others telling you what to do and who you should be, get on your knees, and figure it out. Involve yourself in programs with people who need help, people who will challenge you. And when you go out for dinner, just listen to the conversations around your table. More often than not, you'll wish you were in church.

-Steve

One Myth that will Destroy Your Relationship: Part II

Rome, around 49 A.C.E.

Paul's letter to the Colossians is dated somewhere around 50 A.C.E., a couple of decades past the death of Jesus. In his letters we find the admonishment for men to be the spiritual leader in their homes, and for women to submit to their husbands. Children are to submit to their parents, and slaves to their masters. This 'family codex' is also found, in varying degrees, in his letters to Timothy and to the Ephesians. Rome was an advanced civilization, and for all that it is flogged as being a cruel empire, many of our modern ideals, such as democracy, find at least some of their basis in Roman society. Rome, unlike its neighbours to the East, believed in the equality of its citizens. And while there was still the sharp distinction between the rich and the poor, the concept of fairness had never before so permeated a great society. In the east, in countries like Egypt, caste ruled, and to whom you were born mattered more than your abilities or temperament. Rome's failing, in regards to its democracy, was in its patriarchal nature. (Unlike Egypt, where caste actually mattered more than sex) Its ideas about a republic mattered only if you were a man. Women had set roles. They were property. To be loved and cherished, yes, but as a woman you were not considered a full member of society. The concept of a woman with power was held only in the matriarchal nature of the home, and the mother's influence over her son or the wife's influence over her husband. (Caesar Augustus, in fact, created quite a stir by including his second wife, in some of his councils)

Back then, Christianity was still little more than a new Jewish sect, and highly misunderstood. Christians, those who claimed to follow the dead rabbi, Yeshua, were thought to be cannibals and worse. The Near East was a bubbling cauldron, for the Jews had never accepted Roman rule easily. Romans allowed people to worship whatever gods they wanted, Romans themselves held to a vast number of them, but some things were inviolate, the family code being one of them. They would not tolerate a new religion that sought to upset the balance of pax romana. Paul's inclusion of the 'family codex', according to many scholars, was as much to prevent the Romans (who saw the letters as they were passed from church to church) from persecuting this new religion as it was to instruct how families were to be construed.

Regardless, when Christianity was adopted as the state religion by Constantine, the family/slave codex remained in place. For nearly 1400 years, the idea of family, of slaves, and of a person's place in the world went without any great challenge. Three things happened however, that completely changed the way civilization was constructed. The first was the Protestant reformation, which was as political as it was religious. Martin Luther's idea that individuals did not need an intermediary between themselves and God was revelatory, and set in motion the concept of individualism something the world had never seen, at least, not in any great measure. It also signaled the continued fragmentation of Christendom, when the German church sided with Luther (or used him, depending on who you read) to establish their independence. As change swept across Europe, an important distinction between laws and customs was born. Feudalism and the old forms of governing shattered. Aided by the steady migration to cities, the ideals of Christian perfectionism were replaced by the dual forces of industrialization and capitalism. There is some argument as to when the Industrial Revolution began, but most historians' credit it to the textile innovations in the British textile industry in the 1760's. The Industrial Revolution changed everything, in that it replaced people with machines, and production increased so greatly it would lead to something else the world had never seen, the individual consumer. In the 1770's, the "fashion craze" made its first appearance (to the masses). In 1776, for example, the "in" color in London was something called couleur de noisette. Everyone who was anyone was wearing dove gray.

Capitalism proved to be a universal solvent, eating away at the social bonds between people in a given society as well as cultural barriers that once served to separate one society for another. In place of codes and doctrines, family or feudal ties, religious or caste codes, there was nothing left but the understanding of earned (not inherited) wealth that was available to all.

What does this have to do with gender roles? How does this affect my relationship?

Gender roles in our society are largely determined by our continuing commitment to pre-modern ideas, those that existed in both the time of Christendom, and before. This is true regardless of your religious affiliation. The idea that a man or a woman has a certain role to play was created in cultures where the roles were not only protected by custom, but by law. Whether you believe the apostle Paul was including a codex to protect the young sect from Roman persecution or not is irrelevant. How could Paul instruct equality, such as we understand it, in a time where women were neither allowed to engage in the political process or hold lands in their own name? And certainly the understanding that slavery is wrong is equally at play here, since it is included in the codex. And yet, while we have (largely) rejected slavery as immoral, we continue to define a woman's role by the same text of Scripture. And to do so now, in a culture that praises and promises individualism, we are destined to create havoc in relationships.

It is one of the greatest follies of our culture. From the time little girls and boys go to school, we define them by their own consequences, by what they do and what they become. And yet, when they enter into relationships as adults, we look to books regarding gender to better understand them! Why? Because we lack the surety of having our role dictated to us. Freedom is nice, but often it is easier to accept "my place" than to fight for a place of our own design. The other aspect, of course, is that men like the authourity that it gives them, which often makes their commitment to "individualism – equal rights for all" – less than enthusiastic.

Individualism is not perfect. I hate feeling as though everything I see is a commodity. That everything, including my faith and friends, are all for sale. Such is the destruction of capitalist individualism. However, it has brought some good things with it. And the greatest of these lie in our personal relationships. Why, for example, would we continue to choose "GENDER" as a dividing line on which to base our relational questions, when we have learned that INDIVIDUAL PERSONALITY is a far better tool for getting to know our partner. And why do we insist on divisive language? "Different" is a word we use easily, but it is nearly always used pejoratively when it comes to relationships. Women and men are not different, people are different. So long as we think of our partner as being "different" simply because of their gender, we will continue to miss opportunities to get to know them better. (A great help is for both of you to take a personality test, which you can find here.)

There are some things that I'm not good at. Like cars. Yes, I'm male, but I've never quite understood the fascination with cars and trucks. My wife, however loves them. She's also more adept at fixing things around the house and understanding finances. Me? Well, I tend to be a good communicator, and I am inordinately empathetic. I am not less of a man, nor is my wife less of a woman, but by the standards set in most 'relational' books, we would fail most "relational" tests. And so I did, many times, and almost always because I insisted on identifying myself as a man, and not as an individual. Not as someone unique and special and loved by God, but as someone born with certain physical attributes. So long as we hold to the myth, long developed and still powerful, that men and women are different, we will continue to have difficulties in our relationships.

People are people. Change your language. Stop thinking in terms of gender. ("Oh, you know those boys!" or "You can't figure women!") Find out who your teammate is as an individual, and focus on those things. You'll notice the difference, and wonder why you hadn't seen it before.

-Steve

Authour's Note: I know that I am guilty of what historians call reductionism, but in light of the vast amount of material that I was wading through and the space on a site like this, I did the best I could. That said, the historical material is there to simply give you a better arc, a bridge, if you like, between ancient and modern culture and the role it still plays in how we determine gender roles.

One Myth that will Destroy your Relationship

Spring, 1989

The sun was high overhead and hot, and it beat down as I played with two of the dogs in the run area, the early spring heat mitigated only slightly by a light breeze blowing in off the canal. The dogs, both German Shepherd mixes, had their tongues out, but they looked over at me, ready for more. They didn't get to play very much, and even in the heat, they had a lot of energy. The slate gray building next to us, with its blue aluminum roof, had always evoked sadness for me. The Welland Humane Society was a place of suffering. Most of the animals would never find a home. Like the two dogs now sitting in the grass with me, people weren't interested in the adults and the mixed breeds. Purebreds, on the rare occasion when one was dropped off, would sometimes find a home. And puppies and kittens had a good chance of being adopted. But the adult female cat, with her ear slightly torn and raggedy fur, would not attract much attention. Neither would the eight year old Shepherd/Collie mix. Walking through their kennels, listening to their steady cries, was upsetting, so unlike my mother and sister (who I admired), I rarely came out to help. It was too painful.

I brought the dogs back inside and made sure they had water before locking them up again. The vet, Doc Paulson, was in the cat room, and I wandered over. He was checking a new group of kittens. He lifted the tail of each one and jotted something down on his clipboard.

"What are you doing, Doc?" I asked him.

"Checking to see which one is a boy and which is a girl."

I bent over behind his shoulder.

"How can you tell?"

"Well, just lift their tails. The boys look like they have a colon. The girls have a semi-colon."

I checked, and sure enough, it was the best way to describe it.

"What if they have an exclamation mark?" I said.

He looked at me and smiled slightly, but kept on with his examinations. I chuckled at my own wit, and decided to head home. Semi colon and colon, I thought. That was funny, and completely different from people. Girls were so different from guys, they were like another species. I'd heard that a number of times from both my peers and adults, but I'd experienced it the past year for the first time when Nat had broken up with me suddenly to date another guy. Just thinking about my ex-girlfriend soured my mood, and when I got home I immediately went to the two pictures of us that I'd kept. We were smiling and holding each other. I was a bit of a late bloomer, and at seventeen, Nat had been my first girlfriend. I was sure that we'd be together for a long time. I still didn't know what had happened. I looked at the sheet which I'd folded the pictures into, where I'd written my last good bye. I'm sure I will love again, but I will always miss you. I'd penned it in my scratching printing. I held the photos in my hand, feeling the catch in my throat, as my gaze drifted to the Richard Marx mixed tape I'd made for her sitting on my desk. I'd never had the chance to give it to her. Women? Who could understand women? They were so different, and, I thought, just a little bit cruel.

Spring, 1996

The email sat on the screen in front of me, and I stared at it uncomprehendingly. Normally I liked getting email, it was one of the coolest new things about the whole technology thing. No more stamps or long letters or waiting for a reply. You simply clicked SEND and it showed up in someone else's mail box. This email, however, made my throat clench and my eyes well up. It was my third year of Bible College, and I'd already started my ministry. I'd pastored for two years and was speaking to crowds and conventions around the province. I hadn't "made it" yet, but I was making progress. God had great plans for me. Well, for me and *Diane. At least, that's what I'd thought. I stared at the email. How could Diane be breaking up with me? We were supposed to be together forever. Isn't that what it meant when you told people that you loved one another? I could feel all the energy drain from my limbs, and I sat there for a long time before the sobs started coming, slowly at first, but faster until I was weeping into my pillow.

The next day I was distraught. I knew that we'd been having some issues, knew that I wasn't perfect, but there had to be something for me to do. I thought about all the movies I'd watched where the couple had broken up, only to be reunited in the end. Yes. That's what I would do. I would win her back, woo her and court her the way a man was supposed to love a woman. Clearly, I'd failed somewhere. Women were different than men, I needed to remember that. I skipped my morning class and headed to the campus bookstore, where I found a treasure. It was an older book, but I'd heard the authour's name before. Gary Smalley. If Only He Knew. As I read through the small, but dense, text, I realized just how little I knew about women. They weren't just different, they WERE another species. According to Smalley, they responded to things in a manner that was completely foreign to men. I took out my red pen and underlined all the things about women that I had never really known. (Which was a lot) Of course Diane had broken up with me, I thought! I gritted my teeth, and sent a long email back to her. I'd screwed up. I listed fifty two things from the book (that I needed to change) and waited anxiously to hear back. A week passed. Then another. Yet another, and still no word from the love of my life. I was a wreck, and I shuffled through my days, despondent and broken. I thought about my professors, who'd all agreed with Smalley, that men needed to be the spiritual leader in their relationships. All my professors but one. Ron, who was stout and balding, insisted that he and his wife were equal leaders, whatever that meant. We all kind of laughed at him, but he was a nice guy, and we didn't give him grief about his unbiblical view. No, the others were right. I had not been a strong spiritual leader in our relationship. And now, I was paying the freight.

Finally, after about a month, I received an email from my love. I could feel my heart thundering in my chest as I scanned it, and just as quickly, felt my stomach dive. It was polite and short. She asked how I was doing and about my family. There was nothing in her email about my revelations from Smalley's book. There was nothing about our future. There was, it seemed, no future at all for our relationship. The tears came quickly this time, but I didn't try to hold them back. I'd failed to be the man, according to Smalley and my professors, so how could I hope that she could feel right as my woman? If there was one thing I'd learned, it was that the differences between men and women were legion, but if a man did not take charge of his relationship, well, that was the greatest crime of them all. As the months passed I thought about the email, thought about how different women were from men, and wondered, mostly, how they could be so cruel.

Spring, 2010

They sit on my shelves still, and even here, in the quiet library I've started to call home, I can see them if I close my eyes. Battle of the Sexes. Strong Men, Weak Men. His Needs, Her Needs. Lovebusters. Men are from Mars, Women are from Venus. Men, Women, and Relationships. How to be a Real Man. Even the first relationship book I bought back when I was twenty two, If Only He Knew, as still there, marked with my scrabbly red pen. For nearly a decade I read every book I could get my hands on in trying to understand the opposite sex. I had good motivation. After my break up with Diane, I convinced another girl to marry me, only to watch that dissolve as well. Something was missing in my understanding of women, I knew that, I just didn't know what it was. And so I read, listened to sermons and talks on relationships. None of them helped very much. At least, not until after I was divorced. There had to be a secret, a key to relationships, something I could do to change things. I didn't like being single very much. It was okay, but I was never much of a 'player'. And I liked women well enough, I just didn't understand them. I was dogged though, because I knew that if I didn't figure them out, I was destined to be single (or in a bad relationship) for the rest of my life.

The library is quiet this morning. There is the quiet clicking from the front desk, and a murmured conversation in the corner. Mostly though, it is the hum of the air conditioner reverberating through the shelves and desks, along with the faint smell of books I love so much. The revelation about relationships did not come in a single moment for me, but it was processed over time. The reading helped, but not the way I imagine it would. The more I read, the more I realized that the books I was reading were inherently wrong. They all talked about the differences between men and women, as if these differences were cast in stone. Yes, men and women were physiologically different, that much I understood. But whether it was John Gray or Gary Smalley, there seemed to be a presumption of personality as well. Men were like this. Women were like that. Sometimes, when I'd read the sections about men, I wouldn't be able to identify with them at all. In fact, there were a number of ways in which I identified with the women, at least as they were described in the books. Some of the books did give some nuggets, such as the one that talked about our "emotional bank account", which has helped me enormously through the years.

But by and large the relational books all made the same mistake. They all held to the premise that men and women were different, and in so doing promulgated the greatest and most destructive myth of them all: That if you wanted your marriage to work, you needed to understand the opposite SEX before you could have a healthy relationship.

The widespread nature of this casually accepted myth was not only powerful, but held sway over the hearts and minds of a culture that should know better. The reasons for that however, were easily explained. Unfortunately, they were often disregarded, especially by those who had built their lives (and relationships) on a wrong ideal, and were loath to admit otherwise. To understand it better though, we needed to go back a ways, to previous civilizations.

-Steve (Go up to see Part II)

Why the Church Hates Homosexuals… and Why It Shouldn’t

“There’s no way you’re going to beat me, Jim. I’m superior tonight. Just face it.”

Jim rolled his eyes and slid his chair back to his cubicle.

“Whatever, Burns. One game of Risk does not make a champion.”

I laughed and started humming.

"Okay, we got time for one more game before the morning calls come in.”
The massive call center was empty and silent. Jim and I had been working the overnight shift as computer techs for the last four months. Despite our vast political differences, we’d become close friends. His slender frame and quiet personality belied an inherent toughness, and his intelligence and intellectual curiosity paved the way for many interesting conversations when the phones went quiet.

“Hey, Steve, have you seen these?”

Jim had started working on his photography, and while I was no expert, I could appreciate his work. We looked through the pictures he’d posted on his web site and then suddenly he turned as the next picture came up. It was a man’s shoulder, artfully taken.

“That’s my ex-boyfriend.” He said quietly.

I blinked and then frowned, mostly out of confusion. I knew that he’d been dating his current girlfriend for nearly three years. He sat quietly, waiting for me to say something.

“Oh. But you’re dating a woman…”

“I’m bisexual.”

I nodded and let that sink in. After a minute we started chatting, and I asked him frank questions about his sexuality, about what it meant, about his experience. I’m sure that some of my questions must have seemed a bit insipid, but because of our friendship he answered them readily enough, happy to be open with me. For the next six months we worked together, developing a strong friendship until the day he moved out West.

Jim was my first gay friend.

I didn’t realize it then, but my relationship with Jim changed my view on a lot of things.

I pulled into the church and headed for the end of the parking lot. It was empty tonight, and there was a vast, prairie like feel to the empty asphalt. At the edge of the lot (next to the church) was a medium security prison, complete with barbed wire fences and massive stadium lights. It was early in the evening still, and the bright sunlight illuminated the empty church and tightly knit prison structure with equal abandon. I steered my car towards the small island of grass between the two properties. I hadn’t thought about Jim in a long time, but it was time for me to write about him. And it: the highly politicized, and highly toxic, issue of homosexuality and the church.

Studies had revealed that the number one thing people associated with the church in North America was “anti-gay.” When I first read that, I wasn’t sure I believed it. After doing an informal study for a seminary course project which involved interviewing people on a Sunday morning however, it was easy enough to confirm. The church was known more for what it was against than what it stood for. At the top of that list was homosexuality. And for all I could argue, with much success, of all the good the church had done and still does in the world, this was not something I could defend. Why? Because it was true.

The church was anti-gay. Even worse, it did hate homosexuals.

Most people who attended Sunday morning service however, weren’t even aware of it, especially in the conservative denominations. Perhaps that was the saddest part of this whole tragedy. And yet, understanding how little this hatred was perceived by its members revealed more than any statement of faith ever could.

I pulled out my notepad and took a seat under the small tree in the middle of the island, enjoying the wisp of shade it provided from the early evening sun. From my spot on the ground, I had to squint to find the large arch out front of the church entrance. Suddenly I glanced over my shoulder at the prison, less than twenty yards from where I sat. Am I trespassing? I hadn’t considered it before, but I wasn’t sure if the grass island belonged to the church or the prison. I smiled sadly at the irony and leaned against the tree.

The politicizing of a moral question was the nature of the church, and without question, sexuality was a moral issue. It went without saying. (Just as many people today do not recognize the simple fact that Jesus was extremely political.) What bothered me however, was how the church had turned sexuality into only a political issue.

Over the years I'd seen the church divide into two camps when discussing homosexuality. One camp said that homosexuality was normal and wasn’t sin. Some churches, such as the United Church, had ordained gay and lesbian ministers. The other camp said that homosexuality was not only sin, but that encouraging homosexuals to attend your church was akin to encouraging licentiousness. Both of these views were extreme and neither, in my mind, reflected the message of Jesus.

It was impossible to read Scripture, from Genesis to Revelation, and not understand that God’s idea for marriage was to consist of one man and one woman. Any theologian who argued otherwise was simply not being intellectually faithful to the text in front of them. God, who despite Richard Dawkins’ blustering, fatuous theories to the contrary, consistently revealed Himself in the Bible to be a loving Father concerned about how best for his people to live. The ideal, God's best, was a marriage of one man and one woman. (Thousands (or millions) of years later, we know from our own data that this is still the case.) And yet, even in the Old Testament, King David (a man after God’s own heart) had multiple wives. I'd heard many politically minded Christians call gay marriage the step before legalized polygamy. (Which I agreed with) Well, if that was the case, David and Solomon and Abraham were ahead of the game. All of them were polygamists, and yet somehow God loved them and used them in powerful ways.

In the New Testament, it was quite clear what God’s hopes and expectations were for humanity in regards to sexuality: no sex outside of marriage. And that marriage consisted of one man and one woman.

So while I could agree that homo or hetero sexual relations outside of marriage was sin, it still didn’t answer the question.

Why did the church hate homosexuals?

I glanced up from my notebook. A cloud had covered the fading sun and a cool breeze swept across the parking lot. I’d been attending evangelical churches for fifteen years, different churches in seven different cities, and it was always the same. Not once had I met a gay person, an openly gay person, at my church. I’d heard pastors say, myself included, that the church didn’t hate anyone, that all were welcome. And maybe they thought, as I did, that they were being sincere. But if we’d stopped to examine how we did church and the things we said, the jokes we made, we’d have realized that wasn’t true at all. We were ignorant about understanding homosexuality, because for most of us, it simply wasn’t an issue. I would never know what it was like to desire another man, so it was easy to categorize in strong language about how moral “we” were. What we did was to make it an issue, and forget the humanity of it all.

The truth is that the church doesn’t like homosexuality because we're uncomfortable with it. It has a very high ‘ick’ factor. It has nothing to do with the fact the church thinks homosexuality is sin. If that was the case, why doesn’t the church have a hard time talking to addicts or prisoners or murderers or adulterers? Adultery, by any account, is a far more painful and flagrant sin than a man not understanding why he is attracted to other men. And of all the sins in the Bible, the greatest, by any exegetical rendering, is pride, not sex. Of any kind. (C.S. Lewis)

Unfortunately, there's no easy answer to the ISSUE of homosexuality. In the church, we've done a poor job welcoming people with lifestyles with which we disagree. We have, in fact, shown not love, but hatred. That may sound harsh, but if we're honest, we realize that it's true. I think that we feel threatened because we feel like we have to choose sides. Either we're pro-gay or anti-gay. But what if we don't have to choose? What if we just love people, whoever they are, and let them figure out what God has for them? Isn't that what Jesus did?

Look, loving homosexuals doesn't mean we have to give up our convictions, but it does mean we must give up our agendas. And what agenda does love have? It doesn't.

Love has no agenda.

I looked up from my notebook and rolled my neck. The sun had eased into twilight, and I glanced over at the stadium lights humming behind me. Sometimes the church was like a prison. Sometimes we let our fears get the best of us. Somehow we needed to break down the walls between cultural distaste and our distaste for sin. To remember the sinner wasn’t just the man or woman outside the church, but that the sinner was us. When Jesus invited the prostitutes and tax collectors he wasn’t being metaphorical. How sadly ironic that the Literalists, the Fundamentalists, taught this mostly as parable.

I still think of Jim these days. I miss his company. I think about the things he taught me about acceptance and love. It's normal to think politically when talking about morality. But to address people as 'issues' is inherently wrong, more sinful than any position we agree upon when it comes to sex. The church's first priority is not politics but relationships, and when any segment of our population no longer feels welcome within our walls, its time to get back on our knees and remember who we are, who God called us to be, and what we can do to make a difference. Until then, we are just another political party without an office.

May God open our eyes to see the prejudices within our hearts, and help us to become the loving people, within a life of love, that He has called us to be.

-Steve