I was talking to a fellow last night about movies, usually a pleasant topic for people who don't know each other very well. And it didn't surprise me that we have very different tastes in movies. What did surprise me was the overall sense that he was sensitive to sex, but not to violence: Frank Miller's 300 was fine, but he wanted to make sure there wasn't any actual nudity in The Spirit.
I don't want to question his commitment to Christ, but it seems to me that violence is more important. Sure, there's Matthew 5:27-30, but Jesus spends a fair amount of time hanging out with women with questionable reputations, and almost none with soldiers. This might--I'm not asserting, just suggesting--point to where salvation is possible, or at least more probable.
Yes, sexual ethics are important, and our current culture trivializes what ought to be a sacred institution. But violence isn't a sacred institution: we are commanded to be peacemakers and told to turn the other cheek. When the disciples fight back in Gethsemane, he warns, "all who live by the sword will die by the sword."
I'm not calling for a renewal of the Hayes Code, just for a sense of priorities. I don't like it when women are reduced to their body parts, but where's the outrage when men (and women) are reduced to body parts?
13 comments:
Your post is very thought provoking. I appreciate that and thank you for it. But for some reason, I’m inclined to contest your claims here. I hear you arguing two things. First, the gospels take a much stronger stance against violence than they do against immoral sex or nudity. And second, people who live with these texts ought to share their priorities. I disagree—on both accounts. But my main beef is with your first thesis. I think you got it backwards. The gospels take a clear position against immoral sex, but their treatment of violence is ambiguous.
Sex is almost a theme in the gospels. We can hardly turn a page without the authors decrying immoral sex. You’ve already cited some key passages: Matthew’s radical reproach of lust, the unnamed woman’s anointing of Jesus, and the orphan story of the adulterous woman. But this is just the tip of the iceberg. In addition to the passages you cite, we could include many more. “From out of the human heart issue wicked intentions: sexual immorality, thefts, murders, adulteries, envies, wickedness, deceit, promiscuity, and evil eye, blasphemy, arrogance, lack of good sense” (Mark 7.21-22). “Moreover, if any of you are ashamed of me and my message in this adulterous and sinful generation, of you the Son of Adam will likewise be ashamed when he comes in his Father’s glory accompanied by holy angels!” (Mark 8.38). Matthew considers infidelity so abhorrent it alone can justify divorce. And to divorce and remarry, for any other reason, amounts to adultery. An extreme position, but, according to Matthew, the only other viable alternative is celibacy or castration (19.12). It goes on and on. Aside from the miraculous conception of John (and certainly not Jesus), the gospels seem to suggest sex is good for little but trouble.
The gospel’s stance on violence, on the other hand, is often ambiguous. You argue the gospels show Jesus eating and drinking with women of ill repute, and you note no soldier ever joins them at the table. But the sword and spear are not the only instruments of violence. After all, Matthew was a tax collector. He was a collaborator; he helped strip Judean peasants of their ancestral lands and funnel their property to traitorous elites. Likewise, Simon was Zealot. As such, he was likely a sicarii. Not only did he argue for open war with Rome, but he may have also tried to incite it, by assassinating Jewish collaborators. But we never read of these men repenting their structurally and personally violent works. Nor do we ever read of Jesus forgiving them. If gospel authors wanted to take a strong stance against violence, they could have used this opportunity to have Jesus rebuke either man. But they didn’t. Still, as you note, there are clear verses where Jesus extols making peace and turning the other cheek. But their clarity is muddied, when Luke has Jesus say later, “If you don’t have a sword, sell your coat and buy one” (Luke 22.36). Some scholars will argue this was a redaction. Luke was simply trying to explain how Peter would be armed and capable of severing the ear of a guard during Jesus’ arrest. Luke’s explanation is more than any other gospel’s author offers. Without it (and with it), it’s quite confusing as to how and why Jesus’ own disciples were ready for and responded with violence. But maybe things would have been different if Peter had used a whip. After all, John has Jesus ignore his own teaching when he “cleansed” the temple: “He made a whip out of rope and drove them all out of the temple area, sheep, oxen, and all” (2.15). But what else should we expect from a prophet of peace that announces, “I come to set the earth on fire, and how I wish it were already a blaze! […] Do you suppose I came here to bring peace on earth? No, I tell you, on the contrary: conflict. As a result, from now on in any given house there will be five in conflict, three against two and two against three” (Luke 12.49-53). And then there’s the (remaining?) violent apocalyptic imagery: chaff burning, teeth gnashing, pathos for the pregnant and nursing mothers, doom, gloom. Taken all together, it’s easy to see how Christ’s message of peace gets lost amongst all the violence.
The gospels clearly denounce sexual immorality, but they’re more ambiguous when it comes to the morality of violence. The certainty of the former and the uncertainty of the latter seem to have been born out in history. It was relatively easy for Augustine to find theological justification for his harsh attitudes about sex. Just as it was relatively easy for him brush aside a few lines about “not resisting evil,” to argue in favor of Just War Theory. Whereas, if the gospel authors had believed Christ’s message of peace was a clearer priority over his teachings about immoral sex, then I suspect we would be more aggressively repressed, than we are sexually repressed. And perhaps we should thank God we’re not.
--M.
I am tempted to give a lengthy response, but I won't. The shortest reply--perhaps unsatisfying--is that I'm a Quaker, and (along with the Brethren and the Mennonites) we see Jesus' message as one of peace, and as such radical, difficult and unpopular. The apocalyptic imagery, including Jesus bringing a sword, can be linked to God's judgment and wrath; when people try to take over that job, bad things happen (such as the persecution of Quakers, Brethren and Mennonites, among other things).
I stand by the post: sex can be part of a Christian life in a way that violence cannot.
I'm struck by some things, which I will now lay out in a disconnected but helpfully enumerated fashion:
1) Saying that "I'm struck" is a violent metaphor, playing on the suddenness of a blow to describe a thinking process. Having ideas, however, is not itself typically considered violent. Similarly, I don't think that Jesus' use of violent apocalyptic imagery implies that he supports the use of violence by humans against other humans. Arguably, he's hoping for (or afraid that) God is about to whup up on people, but he's not telling his disciples to violently revolt against the Roman Empire. That's relevant since, as Michael noted, he's got a following among the Zealots. There may not be an extended scene called 'The Repentance of Simon the Zealot,' but there are extended sections in which Jesus is laying out a completely different understanding of Kingdom and power.
2) Sex and nudity aren't the same thing. Nudity certainly shouldn't be equated with immoral sex. Women and sex also aren't the same thing, even if the female characters have questionable reputations. It's nice that Jesus talked to women, and this says something about redemption of gender roles, but it's not really proof that he approves of sex.
3) Violence and aggression also aren't the same thing. I can be aggressive in arguing that developmentally disabled people must be welcomed with open arms by the church without punching a single board member of a meeting. I might not succeed in this, but I think that's because I'm a sinner, not because the two can't be delinked.
4) I think that the world adulterous in "adulterous and sinful generation" refers more to the sanctity of the people's relationship with God than it does to trysts in the bushes. Marriage is a pretty common metaphor for Yahweh's relationship with Israel, and the language of adultery is employed often in the Old Testament as a synonym for sinful.
5) Personally, I think of Jesus' sharp language about adultery, lust, and promiscuity as being pretty pro-sex. I mean, if you're going to spend your whole day ogling ladies on the bus and conducting your trysts in the bushes, I don't want you to come home and sleep in my bed at night. One way of being pro-sex is recognizing the power of physical intimacy and asking that it be channeled appropriately.
6) I guess I'm arguing that the stance of the gospels on violence and sexual immorality is roughly the same. Physical intimacy and aggression are powerful human forces, and I don't see Jesus having a problem with either- so long as the power is channeled to help people, rather than to harm them.
Julie wrote, “Physical intimacy and aggression are powerful human forces, and I don't see Jesus having a problem with either—so long as the power is channeled to help people, rather than to harm them.” And I want to agree. I think that’s probably the best way of looking at these matters, but I just don’t see that understanding reflected in the gospels. They criticize sexual immortality but are comparatively ambiguous about the morality of violence.
1. Julie argued, “I don't think that Jesus' use of violent apocalyptic imagery implies that he supports the use of violence by humans against other humans.” How long shall our hands be clean, when God’s are stained with blood? Matthew writes Jesus taught his followers to “Be perfect, therefore, as your heavenly Father is perfect” (5.48). The footnotes in the NRSV claim, in place of “perfect,” we might also translate teleios as “merciful.” But, in either case, Matthew believes God’s perfection and mercy will only go up to the edge of Judgment Day. So, if we are to model God in our behavior, then we shall kill when the time has come and have sex once, to procreate--ideally without any penetration.
4. Related to this (in my opinion) is Julie’s observation: “I think that the word adulterous in "adulterous and sinful generation" refers more to the sanctity of the people's relationship with God than it does to trysts in the bushes.” Yes, I recall Nancy mentioning something about that, when the three of us took “Old Testament History and Literature” together. :) But what does this metaphor suggest about the measure of sexual immorality? Does the metaphor cut both ways? Does it imply sexual immorality is so grievous as to be, figuratively speaking, tantamount to blasphemy? More importantly, how often does either testament imply violence is tantamount to blasphemy?
2. “Sex and nudity aren't the same thing.” I agree. I almost made those same points in my first post. But, in the end, I decided I would sound too persnickety. (Julie, however, pulls it off nicely.) In Craig’s defense, the gospels identify (or strongly imply) the women to whom he refers are guilty sexual immorality.
3. "Violence and aggression also aren't the same thing.” I agree. We can be aggressive without physically hurting someone. But I’m not sure the reverse is true. That is, it’s hard to hurt someone, without being aggressive. It’s like trying to have sex without desire. As such, I suspect if the gospels decried violence as powerfully and steadfastly as they decried immoral sex, then we would be as aggressively repressed as we are sexually repressed. (There are, of course, extra-Christian factors to our sexual repression.)
5. “Personally, I think of Jesus' sharp language about adultery, lust, and promiscuity as being pretty pro-sex.” Okay.
I want to believe sexuality and aggression are good, fallen, and being redeemed. But it’s hard for me to see that in the gospels. They concentrate on censuring sexual immorality--almost to the point where sex itself seems irredeemable. While their critique of violence is so vague many a Christian has been lost--first to labyrinthine exegesis, then to frustrations, and finally to the clarity of a sword.
Michael: your point 1 is incoherent; it sounds like you just want to argue. Being "perfect, as our heavenly Father is perfect" doesn't give us the perogatives of the heavenly Father. And why would we only have sex once, without penetration? That's just silly.
I also disagree with your last point: it's not that the critique of violence is vague, it's that it's difficult. People already have an inclination to use violence, so grab whatever they can to justify their own non-Christian actions.
As far as the emphasis on sexual immorality is concerned, it's most often been used to control other people, rather than being taken on and followed seriously. And that sounds like more violence to me.
I don’t mean to be difficult. And I’ll try to be clearer.
I think I see how my first point could be confusing. I was trying to articulate that the way we frame God affects the way we experience God and the world. So, since key verses of the gospels portray God as being violent, those same verses may, in the end, also incite and support human violence.
Now, I’m using the word “frame” in a very particular way. In Don’t Think of an Elephant, George Lakoff writes, “Frames are mental structures that shape the way we see the world. As a result, they shape the goals we seek, the plans we make, the way we act, and what counts as a good or bad outcome of our actions” (xv; my emphasis). Frames, then, structure our experience. (As far as I know, Lakoff and Pinker are critical of each other’s work. I consider myself a better student of Lakoff than of Pinker. And I suspect Craig would say the reverse of himself. So, I acknowledge we might disagree over this concept of frames.)
For example, Lakoff’s focus is on the frames of the Religious Right. He argues they have a “strict father” frame of God. And this influences their experience of politics. God, as the strict father, rules the cosmos through fixed religious laws; these laws distinguish absolute right from absolute wrong; and according to them God punishes the wicked and rewards the righteous. Members of the Religious Right use this same frame when they discuss politics, especially when they discuss the presidency. Lakoff writes, “What the father says, the child does. No back talk. Communication is one-way. It is the same with the White House. That is, the president does not ask; the president tells. If you are a moral authority you know what is right, you have power, and you use it” (10). I cite Lakoff’s critique of the Religious Right and the “strict father” as an example of how frames structure our experience.
So, what if the frame of God that we read in the gospels includes violence? At different times, I’ve heard different sources speak with pride at the stark contrast between the Hebrew Genesis and the Babylonian Enuma Elish. And perhaps they should. In Genesis, God creates the universe peaceably; God speaks it into being. In the Enuma Elish, however, the universe is fashioned out of the corpse of the goddess Tiamat, whom Marduk murdered in blood feud. Although the psalms also offer violent accounts of God creating, perhaps we should celebrate the distinguished placement of the Genesis account within the scrolls of the Pentateuch and its peaceful implications. But, for Christians, there is also a new creation. And we should account for it too, I think. The gospels invite us to look forward, in hope, to the dawning of new age--one that God’s wrath will inaugurate with blood and with fire. Is it right of us then, to deplore the violence of Marduk? The gospels’ present a frame of Jehovah being almost as violent--it just occurs at the other end of history.
More importantly, how does this frame of a violent God affect the way we experience God and the world? Surely, it must. To borrow from Maslow, I suspect the more we frame God as a hammer, the more the world starts looking like a nail. Then, a terrible thought can occur to us. When our frame of the world begins with a God who punishes the wicked, then, whenever we punish the wicked, aren’t we doing God’s work? Even if we decline such thought or such work, the gospels still engender confusion around the morality of violence. The gospels contain instructions to love our wicked enemies, while simultaneously inviting us to hope for the means of their destruction. What sort of love is this? (For that matter, what sort of violence is this?) So, I would not call the position complex. I call it contradictory, confusing, and heart wrenching. A violent frame of anything, gives rise to violent experience.
Now, please don’t misunderstand me. I don’t advocate war or violence. But, as far as point one is concerned, I argue that insofar as certain verses of the gospels, apocalyptic or otherwise, promote a frame of God as violent, that frame will necessary affect the way we experience God and the world. God’s violence does not remain only God’s violenc--against what I understood Julie arguing.
But I must agree with Craig that people, certainly including me, often choose pieces of the text to justify their words and actions. We misuse the gospels ideas regarding violence and sex to oppress others. But not always. Sometimes it inspires us to be better. Sometimes the text inspires us to oppress others. For example, the Hellenistic world often accepted homosexual acts and pederasty. Any belief in their inherently sinful nature was introduced largely (though not only) through Leviticus. Leviticus’ frame of what was “natural” invited the oppression of different sexualities. In light of this, I agree with Craig, when he writes how this sounds like violence to him. (Perhaps then, this tips the scales. Perhaps the text is no longer contradictory; instead, perhaps it is a mostly violent work, with aberrant verses pertaining to peace.)
Explaining why people misread the text is all well and good, but my main point throughout has been that the current emphasis on sex, concomitant with the casual attitude towards violence, is a misreading of the text. The Gospels as a whole aren't as clear with regard to sex as you seem to think, and they aren't contradictory or confusing with regard to violence. They are only heart wrenching to the degree that they are clear, and we fail to do the things we want, and do the very things we hate.
Okay. So, unpack those claims. I've bored people to tears with my arguments, questions, and fears. And turn about is only fair play. So, explain how the gospels are unclear about sex but clear about violence.
That sounds like a separate blog post and/or sermon, but worth writing. Not today, maybe not tomorrow, but soon.
Excellent. I look forward to reading it, whenever it arrives.
Have you seen "This Film is Not Yet Rated"?
Nope. I'll put it on my list!
Cool, it directly addresses the sex v. violence issue in the ratings system.
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