Press Releases

February 6, 2004

Hoping for More than a Rescue Mission
by The Rev. Dr. Jay Emerson Johnson

A response to
Last Signal to the Carpathia
An Address by The Very Rev. Dr. Paul F. M. Zahl

I am grateful to Dean Zahl for trying to return our current debates over sexuality in the Anglican Communion to the realm of theological discourse. Like him, I have been concerned for some time that these issues have been too tightly contained within questions of polity and ecclesial procedure at the expense of important theological reflection. I also share his consternation over the level to which our debates sometimes sink, especially when they turn to ad hominen attacks. Those who oppose Gene Robinson's consecration are not necessarily "homophobic," just as those who support it are not necessarily "libertines"; like Zahl, I believe we must learn to avoid these epithets.

I consider Dean Zahl's address an appropriate challenge to do our theological homework on this issue and, again, I am grateful for any opportunity to do so. In the spirit of ongoing theological conversation, I wish to respond here to the positions Zahl describes and the implications he draws from them for shaping our life together as Episcopalians in the days ahead. To be clear up front, while I am ultimately critical of his approach, I am not unsympathetic to it.

In this address, Dean Zahl lays out three theological touchstones for his argument, which he believes fairly depicts the traditionalist objection to Gene Robinson's consecration and to the ordination of gay and lesbian people more generally. Allow me to address each of these touchstones in turn.

I.

The first touchstone cuts to the heart of Christian theological traditions in the cluster of doctrines concerning Christ, salvation and the Trinity. Zahl makes his way into this cluster through the doorway of anthropology and expresses concern over the implication he finds in "the gay argument" that human beings are not inherently sinful. This, he believes, undermines the foundations for an adequate Christology and soteriology. The "domino effect" he evokes here deserves careful scrutiny, for if he is correct, his deep reservations about Gene Robinson's consecration are well founded. I believe, however, there are some serious theological problems in his approach.

Firstly, to suppose as he does that forgiveness exhausts what we mean by soteriology and is therefore the lynch-pin of an adequate Christology is, at best, to miss the theological forest for the trees. This line of argument would have us restrict our theological vision to the medieval debate between Anselm and Abelard at the expense of the equally rich theological terrain mapped by such ancient figures as Irenaeus, the Cappadocians and John of Damascus, let alone more recent figures such as Karl Barth and Jurgen Moltmann or our own Anglican resources in the work of F. D. Maurice and William Temple. As these and many other theological giants would insist, there is more, much more going on in the history of Christological reflection than the mechanism of forgiveness.

Moreover, characterizing the foundations of this rich and vast theological terrain as a struggle between a "high" and "low" anthropology obscures the wider and deeper movements of divine grace to which our theological traditions bear witness. To believe the Gospels is to believe not only that God freely offers forgiveness, but also that God yearns to see us thrive. If a "high" anthropology is problematic because it leads to an embrace and an enjoyment of abundant human life, this problem rests squarely on God's shoulders, not ours. If this were not the case, why else would no less a champion of orthodox Christian faith than Irenaeus insist that the "glory of God is the human person fully alive"? If we restrict this promise of good news only to forgiveness, we might as well say the point of automotive repair is to fix the car yet never actually drive it.

Referring to isolated verses in Scripture only exacerbates this problem, as Dean Zahl does in this address, especially when these abstracted citations refer to only one of the canonical gospels at the expense of the other three. A Christology based solely on Matthew's gospel, for example, would look quite different from one based on the prologue to John's gospel. It is precisely this diversity of approaches the church chose to canonize in its Scripture, not for the sake of incoherence but for the sake of avoiding reductionistic positions. The richness of our belief in God-in-Christ cannot be reduced to any one formula. Indeed, restricting our Christological definitions is what the Church later came to define as "heresy."

Setting aside those concerns for the moment, taking Dean Zahl's argument at face value likewise presents some problems. His argument rests on understanding the Christ event, especially the Crucifixion, as the divine solution to human sinfulness. If humanity were not in need of a divine savior for forgiveness, Zahl argues, Christ would not have died on the cross. He then cites the second chapter of Mark to make his point. This is an odd choice indeed. In this story from Mark, Jesus rebuffs a challenge to his divine authority by forgiving a paralytic's sins. "Son," Jesus says, "your sins are forgiven." Yet Jesus says this well before dying on the cross. So either the gospel writer made a theological mistake in telling this story or Dean Zahl might need to revisit and expand his theology of the cross.

More distressing, it seems to me, is that this reduction of Christ to the means by which God makes my otherwise failed humanity worthy of divine attention plays right into the hands of a modern narcissistic individualism of the sort Zahl wishes to critique in the so-called "gay position." To render the glorious mystery of the Incarnation as merely the divine response to my sinfulness strikes me as the height of hubris; it is certainly no less a "high" view of anthropology than the one Zahl rejects.

Zahl's approach likewise mistakes both the Pelagian and Arminian theological positions as merely modes of self-perfectionism. More, not less is at stake in refuting those approaches than whether human beings require forgiveness. To be clear, the necessity of divine mercy and grace is not in question here. Rather, to suggest that such grace extends only to the hope of forgiveness is to fall far short of that abundant life of which John's Jesus speaks. We might as well describe the legacy of the American Revolution as the means by which we no longer pay taxes to England.

The revitalization of a robust Christology, replete with the fullness of incarnational doctrine and soteriological hope—to which Zahl wishes to point—is something about which I am likewise passionate. Such revitalization, however, will require more careful scrutiny of biblical and historical sources and a deeper appreciation of the breadth of Christological reflection than the juridical, Anselmian reductionism of Christian faith implied in Zahl's approach.

As to the Holy Trinity, I was surprised by Dean Zahl's reliance on modalism for his argument. To argue for a Trinitarian conceptualization of God based on the soteriological function of the Son, as Zahl does here, is precisely what the framers of orthodox Trinitarian theology worked so hard to avoid. To suppose Trinitarian relationship resides in a particular mode of divine activity (even if that mode is salvation) risks the very subordinationism Zahl rightly wishes to reject. Moreover, Zahl's seems here merely to replicate the trajectory toward, not away from unitarianism. If the divinity of Christ refers only to his saving work—which is the essence of Zahl's argument—then the Unitarians are quite correct: Trinitarian doctrine is superfluous.

II.

The second touchstone Zahl treats in this address is biblical hermeneutics. Frankly, I am nothing less than astonished by the resiliency of the biblical argument against "homosexuality." Perhaps this is a function of my own naïveté. While I have come to expect an uncritical appeal to Scripture on this issue from television evangelists and otherwise uninformed yet well-meaning lay people, its continual reappearance among scholars and theologians simply takes my breath away.

At the very least, I should have thought that by now we would be able to avoid the anachronistic use of the word "homosexual" in our discussions of Scripture. At the risk of repeating what should be common knowledge, the word "homosexual" in this context is problematic for at least two reasons: 1) it was invented by nineteenth century German sexologists to describe a phenomenon with which ancient cultures were virtually unfamiliar; and 2) most gay and lesbian people today do not find that word, nor the context in which it was constructed and employed, adequate for referring to the reality of our lives.

That said, there is more going on here than linguistics and semantics. For the sake of argument, let's grant the assumption that the Biblical witness stands against same-sex sexual relations. Of course this assumption is still hotly contested among Biblical scholars, but for the time being let's assume this particular Biblical posture. With this assumption in view, the Bible offers us two choices: the predominant familial pattern in the Hebrew Scriptures is polygamy; the sexual ideal in the Christian Scriptures is chastity and celibacy. I do not see these Biblical choices being embraced by our churches today.

In short, the real issue here is not hermeneutics, but inevitable cultural prejudice in theological method. I say "inevitable" precisely because the dynamic interaction among Biblical texts, theological traditions and human reason never transpires in a cultural vacuum. This has been the case for at least 2,000 years and not merely since the invention of the Anglican three-legged stool. The cultural prejudice in theological method has always been the grist for Christianity's ecclesial mill, and for the sake of a living tradition rather than a religious museum piece.

For illustrations of this point we need only to remember the iconoclasm controversy of the eighth century, the rejection of clerical celibacy in the Reformation, the abolition of slavery in the nineteenth century and the ordination of women in the twentieth, to name just a few. Today, the western cultural prejudice in theological method enables Christians to argue against the death penalty, for example, and to embrace global capitalism, both of which fly in the face of the supposedly clear witness of Scripture and centuries of tradition.

The dynamic character of Christian faith and theology on these and many other issues raises serious and often vexing questions about the role Scripture does and ought to play in our lives. Yet these questions suddenly become moot when dealing with sexuality. For reasons as yet unexplained, opponents of "homosexuality" treat sexual ethics as the exception to inevitable cultural prejudice in theological method; it is, as Zahl describes it, the "Rubicon" across which he cannot pass. That is an assertion, not an argument. Especially in Anglican contexts, exceptionalist assertions based on Scripture bear the burden of proof, especially when those assertions are based on such thin textual evidence.

III.

The theological work Dean Zahl outlines leads him to make a passionate plea for an ecclesiology of love rather than coercive power. I could not agree more. Indeed, the Gospel calls each of us to a much higher standard of discourse and communion than we have yet witnessed to date and into which I can only pray the Holy Spirit will continue to lead us through this present struggle.

At the same time, Zahl prefaces this plea with his third touchstone, an argument grounded in the ideal of catholicity and made from the importance of ecumenism and the concern over breaking with tradition. While I do not wish in any way to impugn Dean Zahl's intentions here, I find this particular aspect of his approach the most perplexing, a red herring at best and more likely simply spurious.

To suggest as Zahl does that Gene Robinson's consecration severs our ties with the Roman Catholic and Eastern Orthodox communions perpetuates a profound historical amnesia. Or perhaps he wishes us to ignore King Henry VIII's rejection of Pope Clement VII's authority in the English church, a severance of communion and break with tradition confirmed in Apostolicae Curae when Pope Leo XIII condemned Anglican orders as "utterly invalid and altogether void" and sealed even further by the ordination of women. To build an ecclesiology of love, as Zahl admirably encourages, we must do better than inciting fear over breaking ties that don't exist and have not existed for centuries.

For a better approach we might actually return to where Zahl began, with forgiveness. Personally, I am deeply convinced of the Holy Spirit's presence in the episcopate of Gene Robinson and of the suitability generally of gay and lesbian people for ordination. At the end of the day, however, each and every one of us must admit to the possibility of being wrong—dead wrong—even about some of our most cherished positions. This is simply part of the human condition. Yet this admission is precisely the point of the Gospel: we are saved by grace, not by being correct. This I believe is precisely the Christological and soteriological point Zahl wished to stress but seems mysteriously reluctant to embrace in his own position.

Putting this in another way, if we have learned nothing else from the many centuries of Christian tradition, then surely today is the time to remember the resolution of the Donatist controversy in the fourth century: the moral character of the minister has absolutely nothing to do with the efficacy of the sacraments. So if I am willing to receive Eucharist from a bishop who questions the validity of my orders as a gay man—and I am willing to do so—can I not expect the same ecclesial grace from him? Why wouldn't we, for the sake of love, not merely allow but insist on sharing Eucharist with each other when we disagree? Wouldn't such sharing enact the Christological and soteriological hope Zahl is so anxious to retrieve? Sharing Eucharist among those who disagree would surely move us more decisively toward an ecclesiology of love and offer a more dramatic witness to the world of the Gospel's good news than wrangling over Alternative Episcopal Oversight.

By God's grace, I continue to trust both ecclesial and theological conversations to bear much fruit in our common life as Episcopalians. Yet the image Dean Zahl evoked in the title of his address may well describe our immediate future. The Carpathia was the ship that received the distress signal from the sinking Titanic. As we all know, the Carpathia's rescue mission failed.

It remains to be seen whether the Anglican Communion as we know it today is a sinking ship. Even if it is, we are not without hope. As followers of Christ and people of the Resurrection, we know that even out of death God brings forth life.

back to top