So when was the last time you heard a great
sermon on the Song of Songs? Yeah. Me Neither.
Body:
I've been thinking a lot about how absolutely
prudish we get when it comes to talking about sexuality in the church. No, I'm
not advocating for more "sexual liberation" or whatever. I mean simply talking
about what the Bible actually says about sex and sexuality, gender differences,
and so on.
Let me start with a story.
Have you ever read the book of Ruth? I remember
being in a 3-6th grade Sunday school class and learning about Ruth. I remember
the Sunday school teachers - two middle-aged, wonderful, loving women, who must
have been saints to put up with me - telling us the highlights of the story.
They told us about how Ruth pledged her loyalty to Naomi, saying, "I will go
wherever you go. Your people will be my people. Your god will be my god." And I
remember thinking, "so what?"
And then
I remember the big climax of the story. She and Naomi meet Boaz. He's kind to
her. It's clear where this is headed. Naomi arranges a marriage between the two
of them. There's this strange ritual of first-refusal involving sandals and the
purchase of a field. I remember thinking that this story was just plain weird.
Here's one part that really flummoxed
me. Ruth goes to him while he is "cheerful with wine," and she
lays down at his
feet. And there, in our Sunday school handout,
there was a cartoonish drawing of a European-looking woman kneeling down at his
feet, with a smile on her face, while he startles, wakes up and gapes at her.
This, we were supposed to infer, was some sort of ancient ritual proposal of
marriage. Boaz was apparently very honored with this bizarre act of submission.
He thanked her for this "service."
I
wrote it off. Just one more weird ancient ritual that has nothing to do with me.
It wasn't until college that I got it.
We were studying Chaucer, I think, and we heard about how "feet" and "hands"
have always been euphemisms for genitals. The next time I heard a reference to
the book of Ruth, it clicked.
My initial reaction? Anger. I was
angry at the cartoonist who drew the picture of Ruth. I was angry at my Sunday
school teachers. I was angry at church and all the oblivious Christians who read
from their Bibles with the same enthusiasm and excitement as they would read
Care and Cleaning of Your New Vacuum
Cleaner. Nobody had told me this was a story
about
sex.
In fact, it seemed like there was a vast conspiracy to cover up
the fact.
I don't know what I should
have expected. Certainly not a pornographic cartoon of Ruth "servicing" Boaz
some other way. The author leaves the act up to the imagination, anyway. And I
certainly don't expect Christians who believe the Bible is an instruction
manual, or a map, or a divinely-inspired version of
Life's Little Instruction
Book to hear these stories as anything other
than examples of how we are supposed to behave. So over time, my anger and
frustration have mellowed somewhat. But it still doesn't change the fact that I
felt
lied
to. And we continue to lie by omission and by obfuscation.
Ever tried to have a conversation with
a Christian about circumcision? They have no clue. Folks, we are talking about
removing the foreskin of a man's
penis. The Hebrew Bible even takes the chance
to yuk it up a few times at pagan expense. David was to collect a small mountain
of foreskins. Dinah's brothers used the procedure as a strategy for revenge. It
was a symbol of conversion and the covenant, as well as a symbol of domination
and of sexuality. The Bible talks about it frequently. Do we? Nope. Occasionally
it gets a little air time when we read about "circumcision of the heart," but
even then it is an oblique reference. We only mention it to spiritualize it.
Again, I was in college and seminary
before I understood that "pillar" was a reference to a stone
phallus. That "prostitutes" were often pagan priestesses. Apparently
this knowledge is too wonderful for high school students to
know.
Why is this important? Because
many authors of the Bible were aware that we have a tendency to worship sex and
death. The stories of God's calling Abe and Sarah, letting barren women become
pregnant, working through humanity's sexual desires, all of them incorporate
sexuality into a larger drama that depicts God as the God not only of fertility,
but of creation, redemption, and judgment. There is no fertility god but Elohim,
the God of hosts. Haven't you ever prayed about your sex life? Whose name often
gets called out when people make love?
And we who are charged with teaching
people about the Bible, we
allow
the perception that God is anti-sex. No wonder those whose faces are thrust into
commodified sex every day suspect that the church has nothing relevant to say to
them. It's like Sex and the
City vs.
Pie in the
Sky. Give me the former any day.
It is especially frustrating living,
as we do, in a pagan culture which calls itself Christian. We still have
prostitutes (many of whom are celebrities - high priests and preistesses of
fertility) who earn money for their temples (the culture industries) by selling
their bodies. We sacrifice children on the altar of these gods and goddesses.
What else do you call Abercrombie and Fitch's marketing thong underwear to 7 year
olds? We teach young women they can be anything and do anything they
want, as long as they try to be exactly the consumers we
want them to be - as long as their chief value comes from being sexually
attractive.
At the same time, our
Christian church preaches asceticism and support of a cultural structure which
feeds the problem. Kids hit puberty at age 10, and the average age of marriage
is now
27.
Our solution? Promise rings. Yes, you have to go 17
years
without sex, during your prime reproductive years. And, by the way, don't touch
yourself. I mean, it may be okay if you do, but we
fire
people if they talk about it. It's better if you are ashamed and guilty about
it. Meanwhile, the pagan temples produce movies like
American
Pie.
What would it mean to acknowledge the
God of creation and redemption as the God of sex and fertility?
Why do we not tell the real story of
Ruth? Or Esther? Or the Most Sublime of Songs? Are we so afraid that kids are
going to say, "well, if
Ruth
did it, it must
be okay to have non-penetrative sex outside
marriage." (By the way, they already do say those things). Would this story not
make a great sermon to a church who consistently expresses outrage at young
women who get pregnant in order to escape their home life? Here's a story about
a woman who takes control of her desperate situation by using the one thing left
to her. And guess what? She was a foreigner. A pagan, someone for whom switching
religious loyalty was as natural a decision as following her mother-in-law, whom
she loved. And guess what else? She was David's grandmother. That's right.
King
David.
Is there a possibility that we
could conceive of a sexual ethics that would take into account the
actual stories in the
Bible? I don't mean a return to 700 B.C. I'm
not exactly sure what such a sexual ethics would look like. Something beyond our
normal categories of conservative and liberal, I think. We might have to rethink
right and wrong with regard to the social injustices that we impose on people.
Maybe sex before marriage is not quite as wrong as, say, creating an extended
form of adolescence that lasts until you are
thirty years
old. I'm not advocating premarital sex, or
starter marriages, or any of the other failed strategies we have developed so
that we can maintain our economic and cultural perversions.
Look, one of the most dynamic groups
in my congregation are the young adults. Most of them are single. Most of them
are struggling with sexuality and purity and the choices they make in light of
the faith they have been raised in. It doesn't work. The Bible belt has more
teen pregnancy than other region of the country. But we do not get taught, in
the Bible belt, what the Bible actually says. We teach kids that Ruth lay down
at Boaz's
feet.
His literal feet. The ones with toes on them. Is it any wonder that so many also
believe women are to be under men's feet in political and social terms as well?
Is it any wonder that, in spite of their religious beliefs, they make poor
sexual and relational choices? Jesus says "woe to anyone who makes one of these
little ones stumble." Our system is one giant stumbling block.
What would it be like if we taught
young women that they have other sexual choices available to them? What if we
gave them power over their own destinies and futures, the way Ruth and Naomi
took charge of theirs? What if we taught that sexual pleasure, like food and
wine, is not bad, but that like food and wine can be misused and, like them, can
destroy or enhance our lives? What if we had communities of sharing and of
giving that made abortion irrelevant, because all babies would be born into a
loving extended family?
Look, I am
really, really, really suspicious of theologies of the erotic. I think they
would often set up a God of sex and fertility in place of the God who creates,
sustains, and redeems. I think it is vital that we don't get too syncretic. I
believe theologians often import pagan values from our sexualized culture,
baptize them, and call them Christian. Nor do I think that we should speak too
formally about "God's good gift," and make it so pure and holy and ideal that it
becomes an idol in a different sense. But what I find when I read the Song of
Songs or the book of Ruth is a God who acts in concert with human sexual desire,
sometimes blessing it, sometimes frustrating it.
Nor do I know how to work this out in
practice. I was thinking earlier, for the new worship service, that it would be
cool at some point to have a man and a woman read the Song of Songs as a drama.
I pictured two stools behind two screens, backlit, so you could see the actors'
shadows. They would alternate between the man's part and the woman's part, and
they would use a translation that didn't pull any punches. You know what? I
wimped out. It's too erotic. I felt bad about wimping out until I turned to
Euguen Peterson's translation in The
Message and I found that he, too, wimped out.
He goes with the less
sexual translation whenever he can (compare with the NASB
or Darby's
translation). I don't blame him. It's too much. The whole ambiguous
door-knocking/coitus interruptus thing is just difficult to speak without
blushing. And, amusingly, the woman isn't completely undressed in his
translation. She's wearing a
nightgown.
Probably flannel. And I bet she has those very unsexy flip-flop slippers with
the fuzzy tops. And she's wearing rollers in her hair. Yeah, that's safer. You
might even get away with reading that in church. No chance of anyone's feet
getting aroused when they hear that.
---------------------- Update
(1/14/2006): There's a follow-up post on sex in the Bible here,
and a link to an excellent Google answer about premarital sex here.
I wish that the author had mentioned the example of
Ruth!
Also, for how the Bible deals
with "vulgar" subjects, you might want to read this
post.