I just don’t care anymore: Church authority and sex

For most churches, questions and debates continue to rage over whether or not queer Christians exist, deserve to exist, have a voice or any rights. I fought these battles for 20 years. They are emotionally exhausting, but I used to get really jacked on the adrenaline and intellectual fervor. Not so much anymore. 

In early 2023, both the Church of England and the Vatican made statements about sex, gender, and marriage. I am not linking to them because I don’t link to things I haven’t read, and I haven’t read these. I’ll explain why. You can look them up.

My twittersphere and dear friends were upset, desperate to reassure LGBTQIA+ people we are beloved children of God. (We know.) As the days drew on, people wrote and recorded increasingly detailed arguments for why these statements are false. And I love them for it. I love how they love me. But I didn’t read anything more than titles and tweets.

According to the Gospel of John, after Jesus is arrested, he is put before Pontius Pilate, a powerful man who holds Jesus’ life in his hands. Pilate is desperate to find a legal argument to let Jesus live. “Let’s talk this out,” he seems to say. “Surely we can come to an understanding that lets me keep my position without the religious authorities being angry with me.” (John 18:31-38)

I read this passage as someone who has had religious authorities debate who I am and, also, have sat in the seat of religious authority debating who others are in the eyes of God. I have sat in the seat of the accuser and of the accused. As a religious authority, an Anglican priest, I spent many years in the sin of incrementalism, slowly coming to see the sin of my own homophobia and transphobia, then offering crumbs to the faithful queer folks in my churches while waiting for the bishops to figure something out. Then I spent many years working in solidarity, first trying to build bridges, then actively opposing the discrimination in the church. Now, having found my bisexual orientation, I sit in the accused chair, with others having conversations about whether or not I bear the image of God. (I do.)

Like Jesus, I refuse to engage in the corrupt rules of debate. I know where that road goes: with Pilate’s actions being justified and me ending up on a cross, with or without Pilate’s official approval. 

Yesterday a friend was telling me about a loved one who has left the Roman Catholic Church because of the most recent statement. He asked, “Have you read it?” I replied, “I’ve seen the headlines”. He then quoted a line of transphobia from the statement. It was pretty offensive. My friend was rightly offended. I just shook my head. 

I don’t read these anymore because they assume a disembodied position of learnedness that is so deeply harmful to every human being. I listen to the statements that live in my blood, passed down from ancestors and saints, sealed in with tenderness. I am the image of God. I am a part of diverse and wondrous creation. My creation and creativity blesses God and the world. Love will not be legislated.