Reflections on the General Assembly and Same-Sex Clergy

It’s been a few weeks now since the General Assembly met in Edinburgh and now that the dust has settled, I wanted to spend some time unpacking what went on there in relation to the ongoing debate about ministers in same-sex relationships.

I say I want to unpack this with you. In all honesty, that’s the last thing I want to do, because this is such a vexed and polarising issue for all the churches. But it would be pastorally irresponsible of me not to address the issue, especially when there’s been such a media storm around it.

Put simply, the question before the General Assembly this year was whether to allow men and women in committed same-sex relationships to hold office within the Church of Scotland.

This was not a debate about same-sex marriage – the church has already spoken out very clearly on that one – arguing for the traditional view of marriage as a lifelong commitment between a man and a woman.

And it wasn’t a debate about sexual orientation either. In their submissions to the Assembly, even the traditionalists were able to affirm that homosexual orientation in and of itself, is no barrier to ministry.

No. The debate was about practice. Should men and women in same-sex Civil Partnerships be allowed to hold office within our church?

Those who want to say ‘no’ to that question are broadly seen as traditionalists, while those who want to say ‘yes’ are called revisionists – because they think we need to revise our understanding and practice on this matter.

Now I’ve been over this ground before, several years ago, but for the sake of those of you who weren’t there, or are just plain confused why this is such a big issue for the church, let me quickly skim through the key points again.

The traditionalists have two main arguments to make. The first is that throughout the Bible, the only place where sexual activity is condoned and encouraged is within a committed relationship between a man and a woman, normally a marriage. And that’s pretty hard to argue against. Though the Old Testament allowed for polygamy, and some of the Patriarchs practiced it, by the time the New Testament came around, one man and one woman together for life was the norm, and Jesus himself affirmed that understanding of things.

The second strand in the traditionalist argument is that in the small number of places where the Bible does speak of same-sex sexual activity, it does so in expressly negative terms. Even the revisionists admit that when the Bible does speak about same-sex activity, it condemns rather than affirms.

The story of Sodom and Gomorrah is one such story that’s entered the public consciousness. Texts like Leviticus 18:22 seem unambiguous. “Do not lie with a man as one lies with a woman. That is detestable.”. Paul, in Romans 1 speaks of men and women abandoning natural relations with one another and being inflamed with lust for their own kind.

But that, say the revisionists, is exactly the point!

Paul’s talking about lust here – not love. Which begs the question ‘what’s the context?’. What situation is he talking about here? And that really matters because as someone once said, a text, taken out of context, is a pretext.

When we read Paul’s words, or any other words in the Bible, we have to have some understanding of their original setting. And when you do that – the revisionists argue – these texts about same-sex activity may not be as black and white as they first seem.

When you look closely at the context, they argue, what seems to be a blanket condemnation of same-sex relationships takes on particular nuances.

The story of Sodom, and a parallel story in Judges, are about the horror of gang rape as a violation of the ancient hospitality codes – not about same-sex relationships.

In other places, the prohibition on same-sex activity seems to be tied to the practice of idolatry and cultic worship. In ancient culture it was common for pagan temples to employ shrine prostitutes of both genders. There’s an argument that Paul’s strong words in Romans 1 are more about idolatry and prostitution than about same-sex relationships per se. Especially since in the preceding verses he talks about people exchanging the glory of the immortal God for images made to look like mortal man, and birds and animals and reptiles. Sounds very much like a context of pagan worship.

When we look at the scriptures, say the revisionists, we see condemnation of same-sex sexual activity when it’s exploitative or violent, or associated with idolatry. What we don’t see is any comment about loving, committed same-sex relationships between equals.

You may or may not agree with that, but are you beginning to see the complexity of the argument?

I’ve had my head in this space for years, and at times it feels like a theological Wimbledon. An endless rally with texts being battered backwards and forward across the net for hours, with everyone trying to score a point.

But despite the vehemence with which folk defend their positions there is still some common ground on both sides.

Neither side wants to slide into a lazy acquiescence that just tags along behind society, mimicking its customs and habits but arriving four decades late to the party.

We’re all trying to discern and follow Jesus’ way – not the way of society.

Both sides want to honour God in what they do, and try to understand the truth for our times. Both are appealing to the Bible, although some tend to emphasise texts while others focus on themes and trends within Scripture.

And both, I think, realise that this issue is not going to go away; and  with feelings running so deeply, the potential for yet another schism in our church is enormous.

And yet, as evidenced at the Assembly this year – in the Spirit in which the debate was carried out and the course of action they agreed on – there seems to be a willingness to face the reality of the situation with a degree of generosity.

The committee who were bringing this matter to the Assembly offered two trajectories for the church to follow. Either the Assembly could choose to permit the ordination of ministers in civil partnerships, or it could choose to close the door on them. It was shaping up to be the latest instalment of this tug of war we’ve been having for years. And we all know what tugs of war are like – lots of energy expended but very little movement either way.

But late in the afternoon, the outgoing Moderator Albert Bogle brought a countermotion which ended up winning the day. Albert’s one of the more progressive traditionalists, and he proposed that the Assembly:

Affirm the Church’s historic and current doctrine and practice in

relation to human sexuality; nonetheless permit those Kirk Sessions who wish to depart from that doctrine and practice to do so.

He was saying “Most of us hold a traditional view on this matter, and we believe it’s important for us to do so. But we recognise that some of you, thoughtfully and prayerfully, have come to a different view. And if you wish to go down the route of calling a minister in a Civil Partnership, we are not going to stand in your way”

That’s the trajectory that the Assembly agreed to pursue, and that grabbed the headlines the following day.

But it’s important you realise that at the moment all this is just a proposal. The detail will be worked on this year, and put to next year’s Assembly. If passed, it will go down to Presbyteries under what’s called the Barrier Act.  And Presbyteries will get to have the final say on the matter in time for 2015’s General Assembly. So at the moment, nothing has been set in stone.

And for me, this is crucially important. If the legislation does go through, it will be down to individual Kirk Sessions to choose what stance they take on this matter when it comes to choosing a minister. Nothing will be imposed on anyone.

In 1843 a third of the ministers of the Church of Scotland – 500 of them - walked out of the General Assembly in protest. Folk were predicting the same might happen this year, but it hasn’t.

And those 500 walked out because their congregations wanted the right to choose the minister they wanted without interference. One could argue that Albert Bogle’s proposal stands in the very same tradition.

I don’t know whether that summary allays your fears, or disappoints you – but that is where we are.

When Albert was putting forward his proposal, he drew the Assembly’s attention to a passage in Romans 14 which is rarely if ever used in this debate, but which may well have something to contribute to it. It’s the passage we heard earlier on about the weak and the strong.

To give you the context, Paul’s writing to a cosmopolitan group of Christians in the city of Rome. Among them would have been Jewish converts to Christianity like himself; and as you know, the Jews had very strict laws to do with eating and drinking, socialising, keeping feast days and regulations. Did they have to keep those things now that they’d come to believe in Jesus? That was one of the key debates of the early church.

But alongside these Jewish converts would have been believers from the Greek-speaking world; former worshippers of Jupiter and Diana, or any of the pantheon of Gods whose temples were scattered throughout the great city of Rome. Which of their former practices could stay; and which had to go, now that they were in Christ?

Could they eat food that had been sacrificed to idols, for instance? If they were invited to a friend’s wedding, and that friend wasn’t a Christian, there was a good chance that the meat served up would come into that category. Was that a bad thing to do, for a Christian? Would it be better just to avoid meat altogether and then you wouldn’t have to worry about where it came from?

As Paul writes to this community, wrestling with these kinds of questions, he does so from a place where his confidence in Christ is such that scruples about diet, and feast days and such like no longer matter. They no longer matter, because Christ has superseded them all. In Christ there is neither Jew nor Greek, Slave nor Free, Male nor Female he writes to the church in Galatia. Paul’s robust conscience means he no longer worries about such things, because he’s confident they no longer matter. In that sense, Paul is ‘strong’.

But he recognises that there are brothers and sisters in the church who find themselves torn between this new freedom they have in Christ and the things that they’ve always believed in. In that sense, they are weak

John Stott puts it this way: “if we’re trying to picture a weaker brother or sister, we mustn’t envisage a vulnerable Christian easily overcome by temptation, but a sensitive Christian full of indecision and scruples. What the weak lack is not strength of self-control, but liberty of conscience.

And the approach Paul takes in Romans 14 is very interesting. Rather than arguing people into a corner over these issues,  what seems to matter to Paul is that we form our convictions in faith, and that we hold our convictions in love.

He doesn’t tell the weak to man up. He doesn’t tell them not to worry about these things because they don’t matter anyway.

He doesn’t tell the strong to redouble their efforts to win the tug of war because these weak people have got it all badly wrong.

Instead he says – and I paraphrase - ‘Don’t argue. Don’t judge. Make up your own mind about these things prayerfully and come to your convictions under God. But then hold them generously. Do not destroy your brother or sister over the head of this. Because fellowship in the body of Christ is more important than winning the argument.”

Some people eat anything. Others eat only vegetables.

Some people keep holy days. Others view every day as the same.

Each should be convinced in his own mind – he says.

Does Paul know where he stands on those matters?

Of course he does. If ever there was a man of strong opinion, it was the apostle Paul!

But what matters to Paul isn’t that you end up agreeing with him on these things. It’s that whatever view you come to, you do so prayerfully and mindful of God. He wants us to form our convictions in faith

There are some issues, it seems, where there is no one correct answer, and what counts is not what decision we make, but how we make our decision and how we hold it within the fellowship of Christ’s church.

The strong may be tempted to despise the weak because of their scruples. The weak will be tempted to despise the strong because they seem to have no scruples.

“But who are you to judge someone else’s servants” says Paul. “It is their own master who will decide whether they succeed or fail”.

“You then, who eat only vegetables – why do you pass judgment on others? And you who eat anything – why do you despise other believers? All of us will stand before God to be judged by him. For the Scripture says “As surely as I am the Living God, everyone will kneel before me and everyone confess that I am God.” Every one of us, then, will have to give an account of ourselves to God.

Who’s our judge? God is our judge. And God, who knows our hearts and minds, will judge us justly for the decisions we’ve made and the way we’ve chosen to live.

As Billy Graham once said – It’s the Holy Spirit’s job to convict, it’s God’s job to judge, and it’s our job to love.

And that’s where I need to end this morning, because it always comes back to love. Love the Lord your God with heart, soul strength and mind, and love your neighbour as yourself. That sums up the law, Jesus said. Everything else is commentary.

This last section of Romans 14 is staggering and we don’t have time to do it justice this morning, but look at what Paul says.

He knows he’s right about eating and drinking and feast days. He knows these things really don’t matter. He’s formed his convictions in faith, but he’s equally determined to hold them in love.

And out of love for his weaker brother and sister, he chooses to limit his freedom so that he doesn’t end up hurting them.

If eating this food makes my brothers or sisters confused or angry, saying “how can a Christian do that?” then I’m not going to eat the food, even though I can - he says. It’s not worth it.

For the sake of peace, he gives up his right to be right on these matters. He chooses lets the matter lie.

I wonder how the tone of the debate might change on the matter of same-sex relationships and the ministry if folk on both sides of the debate decided to follow Paul’s example. If we chose, out of love, not merely to push our own agendas, but out of generosity make space to try and listen to, and really understand, the other.

How many revisionists have sat down with traditionalists and taken the time to understand their worries and concerns about this issue?

How many are prepared to take the time to win the confidence and respect of their brothers and sisters in Christ, if that means that it takes longer to win the argument?

How may traditionalists have taken the time to meet gay clergy and genuinely listen to their stories; or have had an open enough mind to engage with the complexity of the issues by reading something which might challenge their thinking?

Have we tried, in love, to understand where the other is coming from? Or are we doing that thing that people do in an argument, of thinking so hard about the next thing we’re going to say that we don’t bother listening to what the other person’s saying?

It seems to me that the direction the General Assembly took this year is the right one for now, We’ve affirmed what we’ve always believed about marriage, but we’ve acknowledged that some – in good conscience and with prayer, study and thought – have come to a different view and want to act on it.

You can make of that what you will. A small number of congregations – something like a dozen – have left or are thinking about leaving. But most of us, for now, are staying in the belief that what unites us is more important than what divides us.

My roots are in the traditionalist group, but I have a pastoral heart and a questioning mind, and I think there’s enough in the revisionist argument to at least give it a hearing. It seems to me that that’s the gracious and the right thing to do.

There’s no denying this is an important issue for the churches just now, but does it necessitate a split? Does it enter into the substance of the faith? Is it the same, for instance, as denying the divinity of Jesus? Or the truth of the incarnation? Or playing fast and loose with the doctrine of the trinity? I’m not sure that it is.

Could it be that this is one of those instances where the decision we make matters less than that we make it in faith, seeking to honour God?

I don’t know – but Romans 14 makes me at least want to ask the question.

The Puritan writer Richard Baxter is credited with the maxim:

In essentials, unity.

In non-essentials, liberty.
In all things charity.

In my own stumbling way, I’ve been trying to say more or less the same thing this morning.

By all means have your convictions – but don’t let them spring from prejudice or personal desires or a lazy following of the ways of the world.

The way of Christ, which Paul sets out for us his morning, is that we form our convictions in faith, and then make sure that hold them in love.

Amen