Wednesday, August 28, 2013

Loving the Sinner and Hating the Sin?: Pope Francis's Comments on Homosexuality


To date, my last blog post was the most difficult one for me to write. My original intention had been to publish it shortly before the end of Ramadan so that it would be relevant, but the right words refused to come out (perhaps because the subject matter was so personal). As the days passed and several unsuccessful attempts were made to articulate my thoughts and emotions surrounding Islam and the Night of Destiny, I realized that I would need to be patient until the puzzle pieces of the post fit together.  So by the time it was finished, Ramadan had been over for a few weeks.

The delay in the following post stems from a different reason. There are certain hot-button issues that everyone seems to have a strong opinion about, and discussions of them can get quite contentious and polarizing. Homosexuality, especially in a religious context, is right at the top of that list, so I had some hesitation on writing on the topic. But the Pope's recent comments about homosexuality continue to be raised in conversations I've had with people over the last several weeks. In case anyone needs a reminder, during a press conference in late July Pope Francis made the following statements regarding homosexuals, especially gay priests: “If someone is gay and he searches for the Lord and has goodwill, who am I to judge?” and, “We shouldn't marginalize people for this. They must be integrated into society.” 

Both religious and secular liberals have lauded his statements as a huge step forward for tolerance and an indication that the Catholic Church may come to embrace homosexuality in the future. Some have contrasted Pope Francis with his predecessor, pointing out that Benedict would never have extended such an olive branch to gays. I appreciate that Francis's words have come from a place of great empathy and kindness. Unfortunately, though, upon a brief analysis of doctrine his statements are shown only to be a gentler expression of the essentially anti-gay stance of the Church. Nothing that he said goes against the official Church position on homosexuality as defined in the Catholic catechism, which reads as follows:

“Homosexuality refers to relations between men or between women who experience an exclusive or predominant sexual attraction toward persons of the same sex. It has taken a great variety of forms through the centuries and in different cultures. Its psychological genesis remains largely unexplained. Basing itself on Sacred Scripture, which presents homosexual acts as acts of grave depravity, tradition has always declared that “homosexual acts are intrinsically disordered.” They are contrary to the natural law. They close the sexual act to the gift of life. They do not proceed from a genuine affective and sexual complementarity. Under no circumstances can they be approved. The number of men and women who have deep-seated homosexual tendencies is not negligible. This inclination, which is objectively disordered, constitutes for most of them a trial. They must be accepted with respect, compassion, and sensitivity. Every sign of unjust discrimination in their regard should be avoided. These persons are called to fulfill God's will in their lives and, if they are Christians, to unite to the sacrifice of the Lord's Cross the difficulties they may encounter from their condition. Homosexual persons are called to chastity. By the virtues of self-mastery that teach them inner freedom, at times by the support of disinterested friendship, by prayer and sacramental grace, they can and should gradually and resolutely approach Christian perfection.” (Part 3, Section 2, Chapter 2, Article 6)

The Pope's claim that he will not judge gay priests, his opposition to the marginalization of gays, and his call for them to be integrated into society, are all frustratingly vague. If a journalist attending that press conference had urged him to elaborate further, I have a strong feeling that he would have treaded the party line. Currently, that party line focusses on condemning the “intrinsically disordered,” sinful nature of homosexual acts, while also somehow accepting gays with respect, compassion, and sensitivity despite their “condition.” (The jury is still out on whether this condition is genetic or a sinful choice, apparently.) 

What it comes down to for the Church, to use an expression that I dislike the more I hear it in this context, is loving the sinner and hating the sin. But there is nothing loving about labeling all committed, consensual, same-sex relationships a sinful sham. There is no love in confronting gay Christians with the ultimatum of spending the rest of their lives celibate (or, perhaps, one could try to “pray the gay away”). In the New Testament, celibacy is a high gift from God. It's a choice made by an individual after long periods of prayer and discussions. It's a decision that shouldn't be made lightly. (One can now see that the Pope's comments on gay priests are pretty redundant when viewed in light of the catechism, since all priests, regardless of their orientation, must take vows of chastity.) 

As long as Church doctrine remains as it is, Pope Francis is condemning gay Christians to a life of forced celibacy, shaming them for who they love, telling them that they need to struggle with their “condition” rather than accept that their sexual orientation, as well as their committed and healthy relationships, are from God. True acceptance and integration into society must involve welcoming gays as they are. Not as conflicted and willful individuals rebelling against God's plans for humanity or trying to corrupt Western civilization, but as sinners like you and me trying to find love and companionship in the time they have on this earth. 

I have high hopes for the direction that Pope Francis will lead the Catholic Church in over the coming years. Until he has the courage to press for real change in the Church's stance and treatment of gays, though, his words during the press conference carry little weight. I challenge Pope Francis to show us that his statements on homosexuality are something more than a PR stunt. Francis, open your mind and heart to the possibility that Church tradition has got it wrong regarding LGBT individuals. Search the scriptures. We're waiting. 

Tuesday, August 20, 2013

"Peace it is till the break of morning": Reflections on Ramadan and the Night of Destiny


Whenever you travel to a foreign country, there are inevitably some cultural differences that take awhile to get used to. It's often the small things that remind you most that you're far from home. To offer a personal example, in Egypt on Fridays and during Ramadan, the sound of the Qur'an being recited is almost ubiquitous. You'll hear it on portable radios as you walk down the street, in taxis, and while shopping at your local supermarket. Competitions for reciting the Qur'an are a common occurrence in mosques and schools there. Having lived in New Jersey for most of my life, where it's difficult to imagine walking around on a Sunday and hearing the Bible or gospel songs everywhere, this aspect of life in Cairo took some time to adjust to.   

Over the year that I lived in Egypt, though, I came to appreciate this difference more and more. At the very least, I began to prefer Qur'an recitation over the muzak and greatest hits of the 90s, 00s, and today that you hear in stores in New Jersey. A few months after I arrived, I began to take lessons in how to recite the Qur'an properly. As I studied, there was one particular surah (one of the 114 chapters in the Qur'an) that I would listen to and recite over and over again. I found the performance of it by my favorite reciter, Sheikh Mishari Rashid al-Afasy, to be remarkably beautiful. It was rare for me to get very emotional about aspects of Islam, but when I would listen to his recording, I was liable to shed some tears. 

We have indeed revealed this Message in the Night of Destiny (or Power).
And what will explain to thee what the Night of Destiny is?
The Night of Destiny is better than a thousand months.
Therein come down the angels and the Spirit by God's permission, on every errand.
Peace it is till the break of the morning. (Surah 97)


The chapter discusses a very important night in the Muslim faith that occurs some time in the last ten days of Ramadan. It is believed that remarkable blessings can be granted to Muslims who spend this night in prayer, contemplation, and acts of kindness. Oddly enough, no one can know for certain which date the Night of Destiny falls on. One of the reasons I loved Ramadan in Egypt was seeing the devoutness and kindness of the people around me during that month. That piety seemed to be magnified on nights that were candidates for being the Night of Destiny. 

I don't think that this was solely a result of Muslims wanting to earn righteousness or a place in Heaven by their works, as some Christians might accuse them of today. Rather, there is a sincere desire among many Muslims to please Allah and lead good lives, and that awareness of this goal shines stronger on these nights than on any other. At the time, I was struggling to maintain my own belief in Islam, so I looked on what I saw as the deep faith of the people around me with something approaching envy. 

More than anything, I wanted a sense of peace in my spiritual life like the one depicted in these verses. Whenever I listened to the chapter, I found myself imagining an empty landscape in the hours before sunrise, with angels descending from Heaven to do the will of God. Quiet. Serene. In the preceding year, my spiritual life had been anything but. I had had so many moral and theological doubts about Islam, questions that deeply unsettled me. It seemed like whenever I had resolved one issue after months of reading and thinking, two others would pop up in its place. I wanted to do what God wanted me to do and believe. I wanted to be able to live out my life with faith in a god and a scripture that I didn't have persistent and seemingly insurmountable objections against. 

No matter how hard I tried, though, I could never find that peace in Islam. So in my last six months living in Egypt, I began to pray for guidance, for God to reveal Himself to me, to help me find out the truth, instead of asking Him to get rid of my doubts. In April of last year, He answered my prayers. Only then did I realize that those rare and faint feelings of God's presence that I found in the piety of Muslims during Ramadan, and in the beauty of some of the Muslim scripture, were a signpost pointing me toward something much greater. Now I know that the emotions that I felt while listening to and reciting the Qur'an were only a pale reflection of the sense of peace that God had always wanted me to find through His Son. 

Until I became Christian, my hours thinking and reading about Christianity and Islam were never easy. They always involved some kind of mental and emotional stress. But, as the Qur'an predicts in some of my favorite verses, “So verily, with every difficulty there is relief. Verily, with every difficulty there is relief.” (94:5-6) It took me several years, but I eventually found that relief in the form of a human being. And his yoke is easy, and his burden light.


Monday, August 5, 2013

Buddy Christ, Violent Revolutionary, and the Many Portraits of Jesus

In the Kevin Smith movie Dogma, a new statue of Jesus, nicknamed “Buddy Christ,” is unveiled as part of an initiative by the Catholic Church to rejuvenate membership and promote a cooler reputation for the Church. A cardinal (played by George Carlin) decides to retire the traditional image of Jesus on the cross and replace it with a smiling Jesus that winks at passersby and gives them a thumbs-up sign. As tempting as it might be to push Dogma aside as the anti-establishment comedic ramblings of Smith, the icon of Buddy Christ alone brings up issues relevant to Christianity, and especially to the discussion of Reza Aslan's depiction of Jesus in his new book. 


If we're not careful, it's easy to form our conclusions about what Jesus and God the Father are like based on our faulty personal preferences. Some of us want a “meek and mild” hippy Jesus, who sings Kumbaya around a campfire and helps old ladies across the street. Others see him simply as an ethics teacher like Socrates or Buddha, whose teachings and actions were over-spiritualized by later generations. I know Christians who think of God the Father almost solely in terms of a wrathful and vengeful being who can't wait to punish those who reject him for eternity. I also know plenty of people who, as CS Lewis noted, want “not so much a father in heaven as a grandfather in heaven,” one whose priority for the universe is to make sure that people have a great time while they're alive. In our quest to form an image of God that we think will benefit us or match our views of reality the most, we tend to ignore or minimize indications of how complex and multi-faceted He is. 

Scholars of the New Testament are no less immune to this than the average believer, in spite of how often many of them will hide behind claims that they are simply evaluating the historical and literary evidence. This is especially true in the three series of attempts in the 19th and 20th centuries to discover the “real” Jesus. Although the Quests for the Historical Jesus consist of the works of dozens of scholars and therefore should not be overly generalized, they seem to speak more to the cultural and academic settings in which those scholars lived than to any sort of pure objectivity (whatever that is). 

Over the last century, portraits of Jesus have depicted him as a Cynic philosopher, social reformer, and Marxist revolutionary fighting on behalf of the Jewish proletariat. As CS Lewis wrote in The Screwtape Letters:   “...all such constructions place the importance of their historical Jesus in some peculiar theory He is supposed to have promulgated. He has to be a ‘great man’ in the modern sense of the word―one standing at the terminus of some centrifugal and unbalanced line of thought.” 

Reza Aslan's construction of Jesus appears to fit Lewis's quote like a glove. In spite of nearly absolute scholarly consensus attesting to Jesus' teachings and practice of non-violence, Aslan depicts him as a political revolutionary against the Roman Empire. As in the gospel of Luke, he cares deeply for the poor, downtrodden, and outcast. Unlike the biblical tradition, however, Aslan's Jesus can be found planning an uprising against Rome on behalf of those people, hating non-Jews, and possessing a fierce desire to behead King Herod. 

Aslan's conclusions are questionable at best. But what unsettles me more is his implication that scholarly research of the New Testament and 1st century history inevitably preclude faith in the Christian God. As he explained to John Oliver:  “I actually converted to evangelical Christianity when I was a kid, and really burned with this Gospel message that I heard, really felt it deep in my life. And then in college, when I began to study the New Testament, I became far more interested in this historical person than I ever was of this kind of celestial Christ that you're referring to.” 

Mainstream skeptical authors like Aslan and Bart Ehrman, writers with large popular followings and bestselling books, have a responsibility to present the possibility that scholars can come to conclusions about history and the Bible that actually support or enrich their belief in Christianity. Popular Christian writers have a similar responsibility. The arguments and issues raised by the other side should not be reacted to aggressively or defensively. They should be engaged with in a rational manner. We should be able to explain why our views of Jesus are nuanced, how they are based on valid interpretations of the New Testament writings, and why it's worthwhile to take the Bible as a reliable source of information about what Jesus was like as a person. In other words, we should be prepared to defend our conviction that the Jesus that walked in Palestine 2,000 years ago is the same as the Christ that watches over us day by day. Jesus was a revolutionary and teacher of ethics. He did care deeply for the poor and outcast. But he was also the Jewish Messiah, the Lord, and my Savior.