My aunties are dope. And I don’t mean it in the hip, ironic way Gen Z means it after stealing the term from another, better generation, and then misappropriating it, painfully. They are dope. My aunties are archetypes of womanhood, Black womanhood, and personhood, wrapped in human flesh and accented with a discerning southern accent.
My aunties don’t talk incessantly, but they have a wise and carefully crafted word for every season. For marriage. For parenthood. For the professional world. For life. Their sage words and counsel have served me to no end. They are learned. They know stuff. They say a thing carefully.
I know them well enough, however, to say that if they have not weighed in on an issue, it is both safe and fair to say that they are employing their southern sensibilities to not speak on an issue because it’s not a thing for them. Who my cousins brought to the cookout or the family reunion. Why so and so didn’t season the chicken properly. Who goes to church and who hasn’t been in a “while.” None of these things were topics of conversation.
For centuries, a not-so-silent segment of Christianity has used the Bible as a weapon, specifically targeting queer communities with a theology of condemnation that is riddled with inconsistent hermeneutical postures.
These folks argue that “traditional marriage” is under attack (what is “traditional”? Traditional like the patriarchs of the sacred scriptures who had multiple wives?) and that queer love is a sin. Yet, when I look at the Gospels—the foundation of the Christian faith—I am struck by a glaring, profound silence.
Jesus, who, like my dope aunties, had a careful and wise word for every season, and for all occasions, never said a single word about homosexuality. Not a single word. Not one.
Jesus waxed like a YouTube poet about greed, the dangers of hypocrisy, and the necessity of loving the poor. Jesus of Nazareth also redefined family and challenged the rigid legalism of his day.
The man also was sure to condone women the ministry, as well. However, when it came to queer people or same-sex relationships, or our bedrooms and loving, consensual relationships, Jesus was completely silent.
I get it. Some folks argue that his silence implies consent to the Old Testament prohibitions. I get it. Folks have to make that argument. However, I believe Jesus’ silence speaks to something else altogether—Jesus wasn’t at all interested in policing identities or loving relationships of people. He was interested in the heart, in justice, and in inclusion. The Gospels are clear about that.
Throughout the Gospels, we see Jesus pushing and stretching every social, religious, and political boundary to reach out to the marginalized and excluded.
He surely embraced tax collectors, folks who worshipped and believed differently than him, lepers, and women—those pushed to the edges of society by the pious religious folk.
When confronted with a woman caught in adultery, surrounded by men waiting to stone her, Jesus didn’t join in the condemnation. No. Rather, he challenged the crowd to examine their own prayer lives, their own works, their own shady dealings.
Folks who have an issue with queer communities rest their theology on a few passages in the sacred text that find the Creator railing against sexual violence and lack of consent and healthy relationships, rather than condemning queer people and relationships.
But, the whole time, our neighbors who oppose queer life are quick to ignore the central and transformative command of Jesus—“Love your neighbor as yourself”(Matthew 22:39).
When we prioritize our fear of things we don’t quite understand, over inclusive love, we are not acting like Christians; we are acting like the people who condemned Jesus for eating with sinners.
Singer Yolanda Adams recently captured the crux of the entire matter in an interview when she said, “God is not surprised by anyone he created. He knew who you would be even before your mom and dad even got together. So why am I disrespecting what God respects and loves? How are you gon’ get mad at God for creating beautiful people?”
If we truly want to follow the Jesus of the Gospels, we must stop building walls and start building tables. We must embrace the radical, inclusive love that Jesus demonstrated—a love that refuses to condemn, and instead calls us all to walk together.
