i am sorry but 2000 y/o desert tribe religion is not queer and was not queer. its just, like, some 2000 y/o desert savages did not care about being nice to gay ppl. the apostles were not genderqueer. i just dont get why you would try to frame an obviously not-progressive ancient belief system as progressive and sympathetic to modern sensibilities
Wow, there’s so much to unpack here, I’m not sure where to begin.
First, this came as a surprise; I expected to get flack from fundamentalists + traditionalist Catholics telling me I’m going to hell for crossdressing and/or upsetting the divine order of gender. I’m trying to respond in good faith here, but I honestly didn’t expect this level of superficial science-bro dismissiveness out of the blue.
This kind of turned into a lengthy personal statement, so before I begin, let me say that I’m far from the only queer Christian, and others have been thinking and writing about this stuff in far more depth than I have. You shouldn’t have to look far to find some beautiful, vital, masterful queer theology. It’s not just me, and it’s not just the Bible.
Getting to the main issue at hand, have you even read any of my posts? I may be engaging with an ancient belief system, but it’s one with a rich and complex history that’s continued to grow and evolve to this day. Fundamentally, I’m quite certain that the original movement that developed into Christianity was started by and for working-class and variously marginalized people banding together to help each other out while standing up to a repressive foreign empire (i.e., the Romans). Though it’s pretty obvious that they didn’t have a systematic way to articulate what we now think of as sexual orientation or gender diversity, I think a lot of early Christian ideas can (quite beautifully) inform and relate to some of the concepts we see in progressive political circles today: collective care, nurturance culture, compassionate activism, passive resistance, grassroots organizing to make resources accessible, etc, etc - all of which have been part of queer (and especially trans) communities since long before Stonewall. If the early Christian movement were somehow transposed into today’s world, I’m convinced that it would be a haven for queer people as much as for anyone else.
On the other side of this, of course, is that modern Christians have been reading their own queer-antagonistic sentiments into the canonical Bible for most of the last century. If this is fundamentally a living movement about compassion, inclusion, and solidarity, we have to flip the script we’ve been fed and stop using sacred texts as a justification for gatekeeping and prejudice; part of this involves actually taking the time to relish how these ancient writings *are* delightfully ambiguous and mysterious and full of poetry and metaphor passed down through generations of people who engaged in deep reflection on the human condition (all of which usually gets severely oversimplified in translation).
As for the supernatural end of things, I don’t know how much I believe literally, or even how much was originally intended to be taken literally. In this sense, I’m sort of a high-functioning agnostic; if, as in a Philip K. Dick novel, I went on a wild goose chase to find God, only for someone to prove beyond a shadow of a doubt that I’d been reading someone’s age-old attempt at experimental fiction, I’d probably just shrug and keep going. My spirituality inspires me and sustains me, and (hopefully) makes me a better person; whether it’s based in material fact or not, I still value believing in something bigger than myself (which, as I see it, not only leaves prejudice in the dust, but transcends modern sensibilities entirely) that frames us all as working together toward some kind of ultimate liberatory good.
(I’m a huge fan of the New Testament apocrypha, by the way, largely because they hint that these early thinkers / contemplatives were on to something that got lost as Christianity was Romanized and turned into an instrument of social control in future generations. The Gospel of Mary’s poetic account of the liberation of the soul, or the Gospel of Thomas’ (and Philip’s) ruminations about stripping off the garments of shame and healing the primordial separation of male and female feel like they’re speaking to the here and now.)
So yeah, I admit I was a bit put off by the initial ask, because it’s just a really superficial perspective (and, like, I honestly don’t understand people who just waltz up to strangers and imply that they’re wrong). Anyway, hopefully this provides a glimpse of the thought and care that goes into reclaiming the beauty and complexity of ancient traditions as a queer person.
I’d rather not engage further, since I don’t have the energy to write long personal essays in my own defence (unless you’re genuinely asking in good faith; then I’m happy to point you to further reading).
P.S.: please be careful about who you call “savages”; not only is that a really loaded and derogatory term in most of the circles I run in, but a lot of pre-modern societies were *way* more sophisticated than any of us give them credit for.