“Enlargement”: a Biblical and Theological Case for Equal Marriage

This blog first appeared as an article on the Campaign for Equal Marriage in the Church of England website.

What is the intellectual basis of equal marriage as we campaign for its adoption in the Church of England?

As far as the law is concerned, many people are content to argue for equal marriage on the basis of human rights. Discrimination of any kind subverts the principles of justice, equality and inclusion. So in marriage as in everything else, citizens should be treated in the same way, without distinction. The same goes for civil partnerships. Both should be open to all, regardless of their sexual orientation. And this is the direction of travel across the entire nation, including Northern Ireland following this week’s welcome vote in Parliament to bring marriage law there into line with the rest of the UK.

The exemptions provided under the equal marriage legislation for religious institutions, including the Church of England, are in my view extremely unfortunate. Churches should be beacons of equality and inclusion, not obstacles to it. I do not remember that the Church of England’s governing body, the General Synod, was consulted on this point. But I did hear bishops and others comment as follows. The equal marriage legislation is established purely on secular, rights-based assumptions, not on theology or ethics. Its premise is utilitarian, “the greatest good for the greatest number” rather than any rigorous understanding of what marriage really means. The church should therefore protect the theological principles on which marriage is founded in the Christian tradition. Human rights don’t come into it.

The common idea that a rights-based ethics is sub-theological needs challenging. I want to argue that its origins lie in the Hebrew Bible, whose teaching that we must love our neighbour as ourselves is affirmed by Jesus as the second of the two great commandments. That teaching itself goes back to the equality that belongs to human beings in creation. It is the divine image in humanity that is the theological basis for treating all people equally and affirming that all have the same rights before God and one another. I think there is a good case for claiming that the emphasis in the gospels is on defending other people’s rights rather than my own. That seems to me to be the thrust of the prophets’ call for justice. But it’s telling that the Enlightenment principles of “liberty, equality and fraternity”, and of “life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness” emerged in Christian civilisations that had been schooled in the Hebrew and Christian scriptures. 

If the idea of an “inclusive church” in which equal marriage, the ordination of women and a Christianity that transcends differences of ethnicity, culture, sexuality, education and class flows out of Enlightenment principles, that is theological enough for me. At the same time, it’s important that we should examine the individual aspects of inclusive Christianity so as to understand how they sit in relation to one another and to the tradition as a whole. Let me explore equal marriage in this way. 

Those who oppose equal marriage often do so on the grounds that marriage is heterosexual by definition, the union of a man and woman. This is of course how it has traditionally been understood. The Bible does not know of same-sex marriage (though it does recognise at least one covenanted same-sex relationship, that of David and Jonathan, though the text is reticent as to the exact nature of their friendship). 

But the question of whether heterosexuality is of the essence of marriage can’t be answered by appealing to the history of the institution. It all depends on whether by definition it is intrinsically capable or incapable of being “enlarged” in its scope. At first sight, the Bible appears to rule this out according to the aetiology of marriage in the creation story where the man recognises the woman as “bone of my bone and flesh of my flesh” and “leaves his father and his mother, and clings to his wife, and they become one flesh” (Genesis 2.18-25). 

But what if the point of this story is not to make a statement about gender complementarity so much as about the union of two human beings in a covenant of loyalty and fidelity? In the Hebrew Bible, “flesh of our flesh” is synonymous with the closest of relationships that it is possible to have, whether through kinship or affinity. “It is not good that the man should be alone.” The answer to his loneliness is the companionship of another. And it is to this “other” that the pledge of faithfulness is made. The complementarity of the relationship is, I believe, not, or not only, a matter of gender. It’s about reaching out across the gap that separates every human being from the “other” and recognising in that chosen “other” the deepest possible answer to his or her need of intimacy.  

I’m suggesting that the essence of marriage is the vow of covenanted fidelity. The ceremony, by being contracted before witnesses, affirms the vow and gives it a public character. That makes it the proper business of society. And since modern marriage rites affirm that the primary purpose of marriage is companionate, then enlarging it so as to see it as a union of “others”, whatever their gender, is not at all to compromise its intrinsic nature. On the contrary, it could be argued that equal marriage was always the destiny of this public institution, laying bare its essential character as a companionate publicly covenanted union in which the begetting of children, traditionally its primary purpose, may, but need not necessarily, play a part. 

Christian theology and practice are in fact familiar with this idea of “enlargement”. In the lifetimes of many of us, the Church of England has found it possible to permit the solemnisation of marriages where either or both of the parties is divorced and has a partner still living. If like me you believe that the life-vow is fundamental to the meaning of marriage, then this was actually a very big step for the church to make. This is because the remarriage of divorced people directly raises the status of the vow that lay at the heart of the previous marriage. This isn’t the place to rehearse those difficult arguments. I am simply saying that the church has found a way of acknowledging both that a vow is a vow, and that as facts on the ground, marriages break down and are dissolved. What was unthinkable only a couple of generations ago has happened. The Church of England “enlarged” its understanding of marriage – in some tension with the teaching of St Mark’s Gospel, some might say - so as to allow divorced people to solemnise second or subsequent marriages. And it did this all the while continuing to affirm the sanctity of the marriage vow, including the pledge of lifelong fidelity. 

Equal marriage, then, challenges the church to continue this process of what I’m calling “enlargement”. Indeed, because it does not call into question the character of the lifelong vow of marriage but affirms the fundamental meaning of the covenant, it is to me at least, less problematic than the remarriage of divorcees. Far from subverting the institution, equal marriage strongly affirms it. Which is why I am puzzled that the leadership of the Church of England apparently regards it as subverting marriage rather than, as I see it, placing a massive vote of confidence in it. 

What I am calling “enlargement” is simply one more example of how since earliest times the boundaries of Christian understanding have been stretched both by circumstances and by the inner logic of its own theology. The New Testament debates about circumcision are the template here. One reading of them is to say that the early expansion of the church into the gentile world of the Roman Empire urgently demanded a renegotiation of circumcision as a rite of passage into the covenant community. I conjecture that this force of circumstance came first, this pressure for the inclusion of gentiles into the church. Subsequent theological reflection led to the recognition that this was not only allowable, but required by the logic of a message that proclaimed itself to be good news for all. Where a universal gospel is proclaimed, inclusion is the only possible theological response. 

Which brings me back to where I began, with the love command in the Bible. Universalism and inclusion are ultimately about love: God’s love for all his creatures and for all humanity; and how our love as human beings for one another reflects this. So the tendency of Christian thought and practice to “enlarge” its thought and practice is, I think, a necessary consequence of working out what this truly means in contexts and circumstances so different from those in which the command to love was first given. When difficult (which usually means untested) ethical choices have to be made, situation ethics asks: what is the loving thing to do here? And while the church may often struggle to answer that question well, taking a long time and following many a false trail in the process, it is at least being true to its best self when it recognises where that question comes from. If discernment follows the theological direction of travel enshrined in its charter texts that embody the love command, then we can be hopeful of an outcome that is not only good in itself but has the integrity that comes when a genuine exploration has been undertaken. 

I’d like to think that the Church of England’s current process Living in Love and Faith is a genuine exploration of this kind. Is it capable of contemplating “enlargement” when it comes to same-sex relationships and equal marriage? And if so, will our churches one day not only acknowledge but celebrate what is true for so many of our Christian brothers and sisters, that to love a person of the same sex is to find the “bone of their bone and flesh of their flesh” that Genesis speaks about? And will it not only affirm the goodness of loving same-sex relationships among both laity and clergy, but solemnise them publicly? 

I have no hesitation in saying that that day will come. It would be foolish to imagine that it will happen very soon. The forces of aggressive conservatism in both religion and politics will make sure that this ground continues to be contested for a while yet. Nevertheless, in the arena of personal and social ethics, history is on the side of generosity and inclusion. That is why the Campaign for Equal Marriage in the Church of England will be successful in the end. This blog has, I hope, demonstrated that the campaign is a principled one because its case is built on a solid theological and ethical foundation. Which is why we have every reason for hope. 

40 Days and 40 Nights: ordeal or opportunity?

 We've now passed a small milestone on the EU referendum countdown. It's just 40 days and 40  nights till we cast our vote in the biggest political decision any of us are likely to make in our lifetime. Will they be an ordeal, or an opportunity?

It's a number rich in symbolism for Jewish and Christian believers. Let's start with the Hebrew Bible. 40 days and nights was the length of time Moses spent on the mountain when God made a binding covenant with his people. It was a period of preparation, of seeking wisdom and deepening understanding, days of awe when an unknown future awaited and faith was sorely tested.

I've likened this country's relationship to the European Union to the biblical covenant, for strictly speaking, that's what a treaty is - a solemn, binding relationship in which undertakings are made and promises given. It's always important to prepare properly for covenant making and covenant renewing. These days before the vote are an opportunity to do just that: take time to prepare thoroughly for the decision we make. It takes time, patience and often a lot of struggle to do this well. Moses knew that. But we may have to learn it in a fresh way this year. To leap into a momentous decision without taking the trouble to understand what it may mean would be irresponsible. 

40 days was also the length of time Jesus spent in the wilderness at the outset of his work. The first three gospels all agree that it was a vitally formative time for him as he embarked on his ministry: to seek solitude in a fierce landscape, lay himself open to testing and ordeal, get to know himself in a new way, probe the mysterious purpose of the God he knew as Father, and emerge strengthened to encounter whatever lay before him. We commemorate these 40 days in the season known as Lent. Popularly, it's a time to "give things up" in memory of Jesus' desert ordeal. Fasting is certainly a central aspect of Christian spirituality, even if it's not nowadays practised as it used to be. But at its heart, Lent means preparing for Easter and celebrating the Lord's Passover. 

These coming 40 days are calling us to a tough journey. Discipline and hard work come into things if we are serious about doing the "work" I mentioned earlier: pondering the issues surrounding our EU membership, engaging with the debate in a serious way, listening carefully to all sides of the argument and weighing things up. We may feel that at times this aspect of the preparation process is being increasingly submerged by the rising babble of Babel-noise where attentive listening, thoughtful discernment are surely vital to an intelligent well informed decision. Perhaps we all need to be a bit more Lenten in our approach and turn the volume down so that we can contemplate the issues with equanimity, make sound judgments, hear the still small voice of conscience and of God.

Finally, 40 days marks the period of time beginning on Easter Day when Jesus revealed himself to his followers as having been raised from death. It ends with Ascension Day when according to the New Testament story, he was taken from this world no longer to be physically present among humanity. Strictly, Eastertide lasts 50 days rather than 40 because its culmination lies in the gift of the Holy Spirit to humanity, whose advent we celebrate this coming Sunday of Pentecost. But the 40 days of the risen Christ's Easter presence among his disciples is still a significant period. 

So the coming 40 days could be for us all a time of what we might call resurrection. It's a metaphor in this context but it may be a helpful one. It could be an opportunity to "rise" above self concern and obsession about our own fortunes in the referendum debate, and start to think seriously about others and their needs. I've written on this blog about how we should be thinking about the "common good" of all the peoples of continent, not just "what's best for Britain". We need to think globally about the UK's and Europe's place in the world, and what we, in partnership with the nations of the EU can bring to it in terms of peace, justice, security, good international relations and our care for our planet. Through these neighbourly concerns we would find ourselves "rising" above our deadening obsession with self-concern. Resurrection can be an image of transcending our limitations and turning our faces outwards in justice and in love.

I am writing in analogies, of course. 40 days and 40 nights represent a symbolic period. But perhaps this threshold, coming as it does around the time of Pentecost when we seek the wisdom and charity of the Spirit, can give us pause to think about the journey we are making. Will it be a time of thoughtful, disciplined preparation during which we learn and grow? Will it be a time to renounce self-serving arguments in favour of enlightened self-interest that is informed by the Spirit of God and embraces the concerns of others? Will it be a time to "rise" above ourselves and think in a truly outward-facing global way? 

Will these coming days be Sinai, Lent or Easter? How wonderful if they could be all three! 

The Bible and the European Union

I've been challenged to outline how I would defend Britain's membership of the European Union from a biblical viewpoint.

The first thing to say is that you can't read a modern institution like the EU out of the pages of scripture. So it's futile simply to quote texts as if to say, argument won. (I also doubt whether you can argue for the modern nation state like that either, but maybe that's another story.) It's a case of tracing the direction in which the Bible leads our thinking and our prayer. So while I don't at all believe that the EU is a sign of the kingdom of God, Jesus' teaching about the kingdom will certainly have something to say about how we order our lives, not only as individuals but as communities, societies and peoples. 

Where to begin? Let me go first to the very foundations of Jewish faith that Christians all affirm. When Jesus is asked in the gospels which commandment is the greatest, his answer is to quote the Jewish Torah. The first is to love God with all our heart. The second is to love our neighbour as ourselves (Matthew 22: 37-40). It's this love of neighbour that seems to me to lie at the heart of the founding vision of the EU. It's a family of peoples who are pledged to seek one another's welfare and pursue the common good. We must remember that the love command in the Torah especially emphasises the poor, the needy and the marginalised (Leviticus 19.18). To me, any human association that follows these ideals deserves to be supported. It's the exact opposite of the kind of rhetoric we hear in the noise of the current EU referendum debate: "think what's best for the UK, what's best for you!" The kingdom of God requires us to be outward-facing, generous, inclusive and compassionate. That's why I believe that despite its flaws, the EU is still a great institution.

Following the noble idea that peoples should be pledged to seek one another's welfare, I turn to another fundamental biblical concept, that of the covenant. We've heard a lot in recent days about treaties and whether or not they are legally binding. That partly misses the biblical insight that covenanted relationships belong to the very heart of human life. Marriage, business contracts, articles of association are all covenantal in character. But what makes them work is that they are based on promise and trust. When God makes a covenant with Israel (Exodus 19-24), he promises that they will be his people and he their God. Christian faith takes the new covenant in Jeremiah and applies it to the relationship Jesus has with his church, his body. In turn, he commands, the members of his body are to "love one another, as I have loved you" (John 15.12). In the Upper Room in St John, that new covenant relationship is expressed in mutual service symbolised by the washing of feet. His vision of a "society of friends" takes us straight back to loving our neighbour. As a formal, treaty-based association of nations joined together in covenant, the EU, like the federation we call the United Kingdom, is precisely an instance of living together in friendship and mutual service. You might even call it love.

Let's pursue this further in the New Testament. There, the church is portrayed as a "household of faith" that is at one in its witness to the grace of God and its common life. The work of Christ has been to "create in himself one new humanity in place of the two, thus making peace" (Ephesians 2.15). Of this new humanity, the church is called to be a foretaste and sign. All my instincts tell me that it is always better to follow the path that brings human beings together and reconciles them rather than fragments and divides. For in this "single new humanity", St Paul famously says, "there is no longer Jew or Greek, slave or free, male or female, for all of you are one in Christ Jesus" (Galatians 3:28). I know he is speaking of the church here. But if the church is a symbol of what will one day become true of the whole human family, how can we not see this covenanted, collaborative vision as worth pursuing in our ordinary human life as well as in the church? It is never good for a man or a woman to be alone, says Genesis. But that's what lies behind the emotional appeal of Brexit just as it lay behind the idea of an independent Scotland. It's why I want to stand up for both unions, the UK and the EU, as beneficent human structures of reconciliation, friendship and human flourishing, ideas that are so big in the New Testament as I've tried to show. 

These are simply some thoughts to start with. You'll see how I'm trying to argue this on the basis of an intelligent and holistic reading of scripture. What we need to do is to discern the broad streams of Torah instruction, prophetic utterance, wisdom insight, gospel proclamation and apostolic reflection that have shaped our faith. At their heart, the Hebrew and Christian scriptures testify to God's everlasting love for the human race, and the obedient response of faith that looks to order human life for the good of all. I see the Bible pointing unambiguously towards life together, rather than life apart. The EU is an instance of this. It does not carry any divine mandate, and it is far from perfect. But it exists because good people, largely inspired by a Christian vision of the world, wanted to galvanise the peoples of Europe to work together in pursuit of values that are so prominent in the Bible: reconciliation, peace, freedom, social justice, solidarity with the poor and needy, and seeking the common good. To this we must today add our care of the environment. We can't make as big a difference to these things on our own. Together, so much is possible.

I believe this was the biblical case for the UK to join the EU in the first place. To me, it still stands. It's only a start. So I'll no doubt have more to say on this in the coming months.... 

Jeremy, the Church of England and Same Sex Marriage

So Jeremy Pemberton has lost round one. An employment tribunal has ruled that the Church of England was not guilty of discrimination when his permission to officiate was revoked by his Acting Bishop. The grounds were his defiance of the prohibition on C of E clergy to marry a partner of the same sex, though celibate civil partnerships are permitted. The Bishop's argument had been that the Church's doctrine was that marriage could only be between a man and a woman. Jeremy is appealing.

The lawyers will go on debating this, but at first sight, I don't think we can argue with the secular tribunal's reading of the Church's position. The Church has ruled on the definition of marriage. Right or wrong, it's hard to dispute that to go against the rules is to breach the clergy vow of canonical obedience. We may think it's plain inconsistent, not to say unjust, to allow the clergy to enter into civil partnerships (which, let's not forget, many bishops fiercely resisted when they came in) but balk at marriage to their same-sex partners. But there it is.

It's the rules themselves that need questioning. The Church has ruled many things in the past that have imposed a discipline on its members, especially on the clergy as its public officers. But later, as situations have changed, it has changed its mind too, either by rewriting the rules or quietly forgetting they were there in the first place. I've written about this before, so this isn't new. But here are some instances we shouldn't forget.

Take contraception. In the early twentieth century, birth control was as contentious a matter at Lambeth Conferences as homosexuality has been in recent decades. Bishops argued fiercely that to tamper with the beginnings of human life flew in the face of the Bible and Christian tradition; and contraception accessible to all would be bound to encourage immorality. But I guess not many C of E couples today refer to these official statements when deciding on contraception. And theology has successfully integrated it into an entirely biblical view of creation and procreation so that it's been a matter of principle and not just pragmatism.

Then there's a more recent change of mind: the ordination of women as priests and bishops. Traditionalists regard this as problematic both in principle and because it puts at risk wider ecumenical relationships. I won't rehearse the arguments on both sides. What I want to point out is that the Church has listened hard and changed its mind about the ethics and theology of how gender equality is reflected in the leadership of the Christian community. We can blame a secular 'society' for putting pressure on the Church, but such pressure may be precisely the prophetic voice that calls for and initiates change that is both right and just.

Most relevant to Jeremy's case is the remarriage of divorcees in church. I am old enough to have taken part in many a synodical debate about this. It's a sharp question: how can a promise of lifelong fidelity be dissolved by being overwritten by a subsequent identical vow? Didn't Jesus teach unambiguously that 'whoever divorces...and marries another commits adultery'? Nevertheless, the Church has found a way of acknowledging the 'fact on the ground': that marriages break up and couples look to the Church to sanctify a new start. Here too theology has looked again at its reading of scripture and tradition. It's a daring step because it clearly re-construes what we mean by the vows of marriage. But as the proponents of this change of discipline argued at the time, it didn't follow that the Christian understanding of marriage had itself been compromised.

In each case, the direction of travel has been from exclusion to inclusion. It hasn't meant a change in Church doctrine, rather the way in which it is lived out. We don't have to look very far in the New Testament to see that this was the question that exercised the mind of the early church and bitterly divided its communities. As soon as the gospel began to travel outside the Jewish world, it raised a sharp question. When gentiles felt the force of religion and wanted to become Christians, did they need to become Jewish first and be circumcised in order to be received into the church? The clear answer was no. But it took time to 'discern' it, and there was much fierce debate and painful falling-out on the way. We find it hard to imagine today what a profound change of mind and heart it involved.

So I have come to believe (not without struggle) that the Church of England should recognise and honour equal marriage. Fundamentally, what matters is that equal marriage (that is to say marriage) embraces the promise of lifelong fidelity. (The state still needs to spell out its understanding of loyalty and faithfulness in same-sex relationships, but the principle is there.) Christianity promotes covenanted unions because they confer shape and discipline on our otherwise wayward human sexuality. And like the remarriage of divorcees, this 'enlarging' of marriage is precisely not a change of understanding but a matter of inviting a previously excluded group to come inside, take on its undertakings and enjoy its benefits. If I have to choose between being more inclusive or less, I shall take a risk and go for the more. It's what I see Jesus doing in the face of bitter opposition. I what I see the early church demonstrating in its welcome to gentile believers.

 
This week, the new Church of England website on marriage has gone live. It's geat timing for us as my daughter and her fiancé are planning a church wedding next year. In many ways it's exemplary: warm, inviting, and helpful. But if you are a gay Christian man or woman in a committed relationship, how does this read to you? The law prevents ministers of the Church of England from carrying out same-sex marriages. And although there are no authorised services for blessing a same-sex civil marriage, your local church can still support you with prayer. At any time you are welcome to come and pray with us, or ask us to pray for you. Yes, the law is the law. But the website doesn't explain that the Church of England wanted it that way. How I wish we could say something different!
 

I blogged on all this a couple of years ago. I said that 'there is no likelihood of turning back the tide of events. So the Church must learn to live in the light of them.' We can either do that grudgingly, or we can broaden our vision of the Church as a universal community that is for LGBT people as it is for everyone else. Our claim to be generous, hospitable and open is not just a matter of smiling nicely at people. The evidence is in what we say and do when our gay friends ask us to recognise and celebrate their loyalties and loves as we do those of heterosexual couples.

 

It's no comfort to Jeremy Pemberton and many others in his position to know that one day, the Church of England will revisit its theology of marriage and change its mind and its rules. I am not underestimating the difficulty of doing this, nor how it may be received in some partner churches and other faith communities in this country and overseas. We need to heed the Archbishop of Canterbury's call for 'good disagreement' because that's the only way in which discernment can take place. But two thousand years of Christian history beginning with the New Testament show how theology and practice always need to be responsive to changing contexts. It's part of our call to become mature in Christ.

Will I live long enough see the Church of England embrace equal marriage in my lifetime? I don't know, if I'm honest. But I'm seeing enough movement of hearts and minds among Christians to hope so.