February 24, 2014
Credit: Nevit Dilmen. Wikimedia Commons
I’ve long said I wish as a church we could open our hands to receive the irreconcilable dilemma we’re faced with around sexual orientation, as a gift from God. Am I out of my mind to say this? Maybe. But I do not assert this glibly. As a 60 year old, I know the crucible events in my life—as wracked with pain as they are—drive me deeper into the love of God. Break my heart open. Make me more humble. And perhaps a tad wiser.
I believe enough in the good providence of God to ask—why has this conflict—a conflict that tears us down the middle in families, congregations, denominations, nations—why has this conflict shown up with such ferocity? What does God want us to learn as a people? What does God want to teach us? I am energized by the questions and therefore receive the monumental dilemma about how to be faithful Christ-followers with our sexuality as a gift. God is calling us to grow in faith and faithfulness.
How are we being asked to grow? To read our Bibles with new, intense questions. To do the messy, marvelous theological work that is required to understand what the unsettling Spirit is calling us toward in this day. To fulfill the law to love God above all and our neighbor as ourselves.
As the church is wracked with painful conflict (and yes, it is horrible what we’re doing to each other in social media), the educator part of me thinks of this as a developmental stage. Groups have stages, as do individuals. Any one of us who has been a teenager or parent stumbling around to negotiate differences, knows about the difficult work of differentiation. It seems our default setting as Mennonites is to cut off relationships and withdraw into a “pure” enclave of the like minded, heaping vitriol on the other side. This is classic sectarian immaturity. Experience has shown that the differences follow us into the enclaves and only fragment us further.
When received as a gift, as an essential part of healthy development, the wrestling eventuates in an amazing kind of growing up together—where parents and teenagers grow wiser and more able to embrace varying degrees of difference within the family.
The theologian part of me asks again—how might we open our hands and hearts at this moment to discover the gifts of God’s grace within our irreconcilable differences? Rather than threatening, accusing, and demeaning each other—how might we receive this conflict as God’s invitation to meet at the foot of the cross?
AMBS New Testament professor Mary Schertz writes that taking the cross of Jesus seriously means that suffering love is to be played out in the arena of discernment around difficult issues, as in all other areas of our common life. There can be no holier, compassionate work than to engage in the difficult conversations we currently find ourselves within.
Being honestly transparent with each other is humbling, hard work and yet that is when we come to know how gracious is the love of Christ “who for the sake of the joy that was set before him endured the cross.” Our hearts will be tugged (painfully) wider and wider open as we hold together what seems irreconcilable. Isn’t this after all what is so astonishing, that we serve a Lord in whom “all things hold together” and through whom “God was pleased to reconcile to himself all things”?
Jesus taught us that the fulfillment of the law is all about loving God with heart, soul, mind and strength, and our neighbors as ourselves. The fulfillment of the law is all about the integrity of life—where internal affections and external actions harmonize. The fulfillment of the law is about putting our desire for God above all other desires and judging all human desire in light of our desire for God.
So yes, we can open our hands and receive the irreconcilable dilemma we’re faced with around sexual orientation as a gift from God. Why? Because we are made in the image of God. Every one of us. The image of God is our most fundamental DNA.
As persons who bear God’s indelible, grace-filled imprint, we can learn to discern together—even grow in wisdom and maturity together. With the illuminating Spirit as guide, we can teach each other about the diverse ways we fulfill the law by putting our desire for God above all other desires; our love for God above all loves.
“God so loved the world ….” Clearly God has hope in humankind and in the church. God hasn’t given up on us. And so, we live in hope.
February 04, 2014
Rachel Miller Jacobs, Assistant Professor of Congregational Formation
In an earlier blog post, I called this A (potentially transformative) Teachable Moment in the life of our church. A number of AMBS faculty offered ideas about conversations we should be having throughout the church—and are having at places like AMBS. This is a guest post by Rachel Miller Jacobs, assistant professor of congregational formation, in response to her own great questions: “What would a positive theology of friendship between women and men entail? How do we make space for friendships between persons who deeply respect each other and communities where we so genuinely love each other as beloved children of God that we wouldn't think of crossing boundaries?”
In the process of working on this blog post about friendship between men and women, I’ve actually written (and deleted) it about six or seven times. I’m aware I’m venturing into tricky territory: the received truth is that married Christians don’t have cross-gender friendships. I don’t mean that they aren’t friendly with the people whose paths they cross at work or church, or that they don’t do things in mixed-gender groups. But eyebrows rise when we talk about consciously cultivating a friendship with a person of the opposite sex—about being actual friends rather than simply people whom circumstance has thrown together. I know this firsthand because in the couple of cross-gender friendships I’ve had as an adult, I’ve had to wrestle with my own (and others’) discomfort, confusion, jealousy, guilt, and shame.
You’d think from that list of “discomforts” that I was having an affair. I wasn’t. As a young adult, I’d had close guy friends when I was in college, about thirty years ago, and not all of those cross-gender friendships turned into dating relationships. Yet both then and since, I’ve had little experience with, and few examples of, a never-going-to-be-romantic friendship with a man.
The common wisdom is that’s exactly as it should be, because there’s no such thing as a never-romantic friendship between a man and a woman. Right?
Dan Brennan (Sacred Unions, Sacred Passions: Engaging the Mystery of Friendship Between Men and Women) writes that both church and culture have two main stories about intimacy between men and women. The first is the “romantic story”: man meets woman, they date, they commit, or they break up and start all over again with another partner. The second is what Brennan calls the “danger story”: man and woman become friends, but don’t have the romantic trajectory open to them because one or both are married, so slide into emotional or physical adultery, triangles, or some other dysfunction.
If that’s true—that there are only two possible stories about intimacy between men and women—why would we become friends with someone of the opposite sex, and actually cultivate that friendship?
One reason is that we’ve exhausted what the “deterrence” approach has to offer us. The “no intimate relationships between men and women who aren’t married to each other” may have prevented some (though not all) sexual misconduct, affairs, or divorces. But it hasn’t helped us do the individual and communal work of genuinely seeing and respecting each other as beloved children of God. It hasn’t helped us take the next steps in dismantling patriarchy. It hasn’t broken down the dividing wall of hostility between men and women. The “deterrence” approach said an important “no” but hasn’t gone on to say an equally important “yes.”
We get hints about what this “yes” might look like from the life of Jesus. The Gospels depict him as a man who isn’t afraid of relationships with women (the woman at the well, the woman at Simon’s house, Mary and Martha, Mary Magdalene, other women disciples). In a social and cultural context that defined women as property, Jesus treated them as human beings worthy of intimacy, respect, and care.
If we pursue cross-gender friendships with colleagues or others in the example of Jesus, we will do many of the same things as we do to cultivate any healthy friendship. But in the overly sexualized context in which we live, a few additional specifics are also worth noting. Here’s my advice, culled from reading, experience, and listening to people as a spiritual director and pastor:
Cross-gender friendships have much to offer us in broadening and nuancing our understanding of the opposite sex. In addition, since men’s and women’s spiritual journeys differ in some significant ways, a cross-gender friendship can spur us to further growth in ways that same gendered friends who are traveling the same path cannot.
Corporately, public conversation about and practice in cross-gender friendship can help us tell a more hopeful story than the ones that have previously been available to us. While there are never any guarantees in human relationships, much is lost when we don't take the risk to create communities where transparency, self-awareness, and commitment to the well-being of all will safeguard the wholeness of both men and women, whether single or married.
This blog is hosted by Sara Wenger Shenk. While Sara is president of Anabaptist Mennonite Biblical Seminary, she writes as a practical theologian trying to make sense of everyday life—in light of God's reconciling mission in the world.
The views Sara shares here are not the voice of AMBS. As a woman, mother, author, educator, lover of God, Sara is a restless scout—searching out ways that lead toward God’s shalom. She doesn’t assert answers so much as pose questions, test assumptions, resist labels, play with possibilities, experiment with integration, practice wholeness. She hopes this blog will provide a spacious forum for thoughtful discernment around sometimes contentious issues.