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October 27, 2005

More than its raiment

Filed under: Religion and sex — Camassia @ 6:15 pm

Sorry I’ve been gone so long. Honestly, I’ve been caught up in the minutiae of daily life and haven’t thought of any new Big Subjects to ramble on about. But I recently remembered that I had a vague intention to respond to this post by Graham, and there’s no time like the present (or perhaps I should say, a month later).

In discussions about these things, transsexuals tend to get lumped in with homo- and bisexuals (hence the acronym GLBT) and sometimes — as Graham does — with intersexuals. But there’s one feature of transsexualism that makes it different from the others, and that raises a host of knotty theological and psychological issues: this claim of being “trapped in the wrong body.” In fact, much of the language transsexuals use implies that their bodies of birth are a sort of dangerous illusion. Way back when I wrote this post, a transsexual wrote to me saying that I missed the point: the reason transsexuals identify with Ozma is that they really do feel that their natural self is the other gender, and the body of birth is like the evil spell in the book. So the surgery, however artificial it appears to us, is in fact restoring the true self.

This argument is actually the polar opposite of the one most gay people make, which is that they were born gay, therefore it’s natural, therefore it’s good. Intersexuals make similar arguments, with activists fighting for the right to remain in their natural bodies, however strange they seem to others, rather than be subjected to surgical alteration. Transsexuals, on the other hand, think that nature made a horrible mistake, and are upset when other people don’t recognize this and take steps to fix it. They don’t make this claim for anyone but themselves; but if it really is possible for a soul to be trapped in the wrong body, this has interesting theological implications for all of us.

There are some religions out there that believe that we’re all trapped in the wrong body, or that there’s something wrong with the fact that we even have bodies. The Manichean version of the Garden of Eden story had Adam’s “fall” manifest with his horrified discovery that he was trapped in matter (that is, his body). Scientologists apparently have a similar myth that we are all “Thetans” trapped in bodies encumbered by the souls of dead aliens (or something like that) and one goes through multiple levels of spiritual advancement to get beyond the body’s limitations. The Indian idea of reincarnation doesn’t regard bodies as evil so much as irrelevant — they are part of samsara, the transient physical world.

From the days of the early struggles with Gnostics, Christians rejected this idea in favor of walking a sometimes delicate tightrope between saying that the physical world expresses the will of its good Creator, and that it’s fallen and distorted by sin. The latter accounts for the fact that the Bible clearly regards some inborn qualities as flaws, which is why Jesus heals the congenitally blind, deaf and lame. Still, that is a different magnitude of flaw than what transsexuals are claiming. After all, we don’t generally hear blind people say that they’re sighted people trapped in blind bodies. Gender is more fundamental to the identity than simply having a malfunctioning body part. (Some deaf people today do “identify deaf”, but this is because they share a unique language, which is a different subject.) It is also something that involves both body and brain, which is perhaps why the coordination between the two sometimes goes haywire.

But assuming that nature does in fact go that wrong, the question remains whether it’s the body or the mind that actually has the problem. Another interesting feature of the pro-transsexual argument is that it assumes the supremacy of the mind, and that only the mind perceives the true reality. The body therefore has to be subject to, and shaped by, the mind. (That’s another thing it has in common with Manicheism, come to think of it.) To some extent we do that anytime we have a medical procedure, but again, this is a little different from fixing something that’s clearly defective. After all, the female body I have is perfectly fine for me; femaleness is not normally seen as a condition to be cured. The only reason we have to believe there’s something wrong with the bodies of transsexuals is their own conviction that there is.

But does the body have a vote on reality, as the mind does? In other words, if somebody insists that he’s actually female and his body says otherwise, who do we listen to? If science locates some part of the brain that’s responsible for transsexualism, should we treat that instead of surgically altering the body? And since we can’t do that at present, does altering their bodies do any harm?

My own answer to the last question is “probably not.” Whatever’s going on with gender dysphorics, obviously they’re suffering badly, so it seems cruel to deny them something that could lessen their suffering. But I’m still a bit reluctant to go along completely with transsexuals’ insistence that they’re really the other gender, to the point of, say, calling people with male bodies “transsexual women” because they feel in their heads that they’re female. I don’t think gender is entirely physical, but I don’t think it’s entirely mental either. The body does have a vote, if perhaps not a veto. And to say that someone is as female as I am, because he feels like it and even because his body has been surgically altered to be more female, seems to be rather exaggerating the power of the human mind, will, and technology.

I’ve heard it said that one basic consequence of the Fall was that it pitted soul and body against each other, and gender dysphoria seems like Exhibit A. For that reason, though, it may be impossible this side of Judgment Day to completely fix it. I suppose we can just hope that when all bodies are raised and glorified — whatever that entails, exactly — it will all be set straight.

October 14, 2005

Note from the administrator

Filed under: Miscellaneous — Camassia @ 7:59 am

I’m going out of town this weekend, and until then will be busy with preparations, which means not only no posting but no clearing comments from the moderation queue. (And I’m afraid I do need to moderate, since I’ve been getting a ton of spam lately.) Discussion will have to go on hold for a few days.

October 11, 2005

The revenge of the death cookie!!

Filed under: Books,Ecclesiology — Camassia @ 7:27 pm

Sorry I’ve been AWOL lately. I’ve been reading some interesting stuff though, so I thought I should share.

On my trip to the Midwest this summer, I scored a couple of books. Troy gave me a copy of When Time Shall Be No More, which I am slowly working my way through. At Jennifer’s house I picked up The Spirit of Early Christian Thought. I’d been hoping to find a kind of sequel to Yoder’s Politics of Jesus, since he focuses so exclusively on the church of the New Testament. It left me with the question hanging: So then what happened?

I’ve read the first two chapters of Wilken’s book, and I am pleased to report it is a much easier read than Yoder’s. He doesn’t make it easy on himself by spending the first chapter describing early Christians’ debates with Greek philosophers, but he explains their conflict in fairly simple language. What’s striking, really, is how familiar it all is. The philosophers believed the universe operates according to laws, and they didn’t like how the Bible described the creation of the universe, and later the descent of God become man, as acts of a personal will that seemed to have no regard for natural laws. They also accused Christians of being “fideists” meaning they believed only on faith and ignored demonstrations of reason.

So far, it sounds a lot like debates with modern scientific secularists. But what’s different is that the philosophers also accused Christians of being too worldly, of thinking they could come in contact with God through sensory experiences and rituals. The Greeks believed you had to shut out your physical senses in order to perceive spiritual truth.

Nowadays, this argument seems to have gone from being between Christians and outsiders to being between different types of Christians. I was thinking of this after reading the second chapter, which deals with the worship practices of the Roman-era church. The earliest source he cites on the subject is Justin Martyr, who died in about 175 A.D. Apparently most apologists of that era didn’t discuss rituals, probably thinking the Greeks would find them strange and creepy. But Justin outlined a service that clearly follows the basic outlines we know: Scripture reading, homily, prayers, communion, and offering. Of communion he says:

This food we call Eucharist, of which no one is allowed to partake except one who believes that the things we teach are true, and has received the washing for forgiveness of sins for rebirth, and who lives as Christ taught us. For we do not receive these things as common bread or common drink, but as Jesus Christ our Savior who became incarnate by God’s word and took flesh and blood for our salvation. So also we have been taught that the food consecrated by the word of prayer which comes from him from which our flesh and blood are nourished by being renewed, is the flesh and blood of that incarnate Jesus.

Reading this passage was interesting because, after watching the church’s monthly communion the Sunday before last, I suddenly got on fire for the Real Presence. The Mennonites’ Zwinglian heritage always bothered me, because what I know of Zwingli’s method of determining church practice was pretty weird: if it’s not mentioned in the New Testament, don’t do it. Moreover, when it comes to communion in particular, what modern arguments I’ve heard against the Real Presence either come from anti-Catholic nuttery of the Jack Chick variety, or from a modern version of the Greek attitude I described above: “spiritual” things don’t really happen in the physical world. And to be honest, I think I always hoped that the Real Presence was waiting for me after baptism. The idea that if I’m baptized in this church, a mere symbolic feast was waiting for me, I found unbearably depressing.

I put these objections separately to Telford and John Paul, and got roughly the same answer from both. I did not hear a defense of Zwingli’s communion theology (Telford said it came from Zwingli’s “messed up” incarnational theology); I essentially got a defense from inertia. Their churches have always done communion that way, there are lots of good things about those churches, so why rock the boat?

I don’t think the Mennonites would accept such arguments from somebody else. Just imagine if some cardinal were to say, “Oh, we don’t really believe that papal infallibility stuff, but everyone’s comfortable with it so we might as well leave it.” More to the point, Zwingli’s communion theology split his people not only from Catholicism but from other Protestants; and if the split on this point was his fault, it is not just an error but a sin that needs to be repented of. The fact that the aforementioned anti-Catholic nuttery seems to have fed so much of the current Protestant attitude on the subject only makes perpetuating the sin more blameworthy. It also seems to me that we’re missing out on something, that nourishes and renews our flesh to live out the Christian life.

I’ve been wondering, since those conversations, how many other people at PMC share their non-Zwinglian attitude, or never really thought about communion one way or the other. PMC is highly educated and mostly current or former seminarians, so nobody takes Zwingli’s simplistic attitude toward Scripture. Anti-Catholicism is conspicuously lacking also: I’ve heard several prominent Catholics praised from the pulpit, including the late Pope. The actual practice of communion, as with so many other things, is somewhere between high and low church. At Christian Assembly communion was done only a few times a year, without any particular ritual attached, and by passing around trays of crackers and grape juice. At PMC communion is formally done with a liturgical recap of the Last Supper, followed by everyone lining up to receive it at the altar, as is done in Catholic, Lutheran and Anglican churches. The main Zwinglian touches are that lay volunteers can administer it, that it’s only done once a month, and that the bulletin labels it “A Feast of Memory.” (It’s also open to all comers, though I don’t think I can blame that entirely on Zwingli; I don’t think he believed in open communion either.)

I’ve been wondering how far I can go with this stuff. I’m not in a great position to be a “prophetic voice” to PMC, seeing as I’m not a member and have not even been baptized, my main claim to fame being that I’m the girlfriend of a district elder. When I think of it, though, I don’t really care whether they go for the fancy mystical explanations, or all the bells and whistles associated with the high-church eucharist. I don’t give a toss about the whole transubstantion/consubstantion/whatever debate. I’m more with the Eastern Orthodox in thinking that the physics don’t need explaining. But what I would like to see is at least an invitation to Jesus to be present in the elements. God does not, of course, have to be invited to show up, but I should certainly think it helps. The a priori rejection of his presence seems like a pretty good indication that he won’t be there.

Well, this weekend will be taken up with the church’s annual retreat, so maybe I’ll have time to gage popular opinion on the issue. Who knows, maybe somebody will come up with a convincing defense of Zwingli after all.

October 1, 2005

It’s a guy thing

Filed under: Church life,Religion and sex — Camassia @ 2:44 pm

A while ago Dash brought up a perennial point of debate in churches these days: the “man problem.” I remember there was another big discussion of it a couple years back when Methodist pastor Donald Sensing complained of the same thing. And although Lee seems to doubt whether the problem actually exists, I can affirm from my own experience with churches that, indeed, evangelical churches tend to be gender-balanced while mainline churches tend to tilt towards women. And to be honest, not only do I think it’s a problem for the church, I personally don’t like it. I spent my undergrad years at an all-female college, and I don’t especially want to spend my church life in a manless environment.

I know I said in the last post that overmuch strategizing about church growth is a sign of not trusting the Spirit. But it seems that whenever there’s a problem it’s worth asking oneself whether this happened because you followed the Gospel, or because you didn’t. And since I’ve had a lot more experience in church since the last discussion, I’ve been thinking about what I’ve learned.

Let me start with what I don’t think are reasons. Despite what C. said in the comments, I don’t think men generally prefer ritual to happy-clappy stuff. If anything it seems to be the opposite, since low churches seem to have more men than high churches. Also, Allen Brill back in the previous discussion suggested that men like conservative churches because they’re male chauvinist, an idea Dwight echoes on Dash’s post when he says he thinks men aren’t dealing with women in leadership roles. But that also doesn’t seem to explain it all, for two reasons. One, for all the traditional sexual teachings of the Catholic Church and its male-only priesthood, Catholic priests still find themselves surrounded by vast numbers of females. Secondly, my own church is a strong counter-example. It’s the most blatantly feminist church I’ve been to this side of All Saints Pasadena, but it seems to have no trouble attracting men, either as congregants or as volunteers. Though I don’t know the exact stats, the gender mix in the congregation basically seems to be dead even.

To some extent PMC benefits from being near a huge seminary, which gives the area a higher-than-normal concentration of committed young Christian men. But there are a great many churches in Pasadena, and the Fullerites keep picking us. In fact we seem to have a sort of positive grapevine going there, where students arrive on the advice of older students and professors.

Another way my perspective has shifted since the last debate is that I think of the matter less as individual taste, and more as a social thing. That is, I think that what makes some churches “feminine” is that the female social networks define the community. People who’ve been to churches like this will know what I mean: women form the core of operations, while the men are more like add-ons brought in by their wives, mothers, girlfriends and so on. Even a male pastor can seem like a lone boat sailing atop a female ocean.

The reason this is a problem is that male and female groups have different ways of relating. I didn’t study this in depth when I was in college, but a good amount of psychological and sociological research backs this up. The exact ways that they differ are largely unconscious, which is why people trying to explain what makes a church “feminine” often have trouble putting exact words to it. But even if unarticulated, the differences are there. When the prevailing mode of relationship in a church is female, a lot of men will feel like there’s just something ineffably girly about this church. (As will I, for that matter, since I think my own mode of relating is pretty male.)

When I look at PMC, I see a lot of men having and initiating relationships. They don’t passively let the women take care of the social life. My man John Paul, for instance, organizes a lunch after church almost every week, and makes a point of inviting newcomers. On the listserv recently, another guy wrote that he didn’t feel he knows the other people in church well enough, and started organizing a monthly potluck. There’s some sort of mentoring program that matches teenagers with an adult of their own gender. And some of the guys organize and participate in political demonstrations, which I would think (and I don’t mean this to be trivializing) have much of the same bonding experience as team sports.

None of these are specifically “all male” ventures (though there are a few of those). What’s important, I think, isn’t that they’re targeting men but that men are doing them. In these lunches with John the young seminarians often seem pleased to be taken in by an older man who seems to know everything there is to know about the church, the seminary, the city and all the local hiking trails. It means that, even if they don’t make friends with John in particular, male friendships are possible at this church.

This seems to be creating a chicken-and-egg problem though: the best way to have more male involvement in church is to already have male involvement in church. And in fact, male involvement is a kind of gage of general congregational health. When a community is disintegrating, the female networks generally outlast the male ones, which is why elderly women always seem to be the last to hang on in a dying church. (This also seems to be true in other communities under stress, like inner cities.) So while some people have fingered feminization as a cause of church shrinkage, it seems likely to me to be as much a result of it, although it does create a vicious cycle that encourages further shrinkage.

If that cycle has started, reversing it may take a more deliberate effort than PMC’s largely unconscious habits. In a comment on Dash’s post, Bag Lady gave an example from a different church:

Well, in my previous parish, on most Sunday mornings we had at least 20 teen males in church (out of 200 or so congregants) — sitting in the choir stalls. Were it not for choir, they wouldn’t have been there.

Not just any choir, either — the Choir of Men and Boys. No women.

That took a lot of processing on my part, in the early years of my involvement there, but I came to understand that, because of boys’ development, they aren’t terribly likely to join a children’s choir (with girls, obviously). But they developed a very close camaraderie with their fellows in this choir — it was a very safe place for them to consider their spirituality (and musicality), where their contributions were valued.

As the boys became teens, they stayed, moving on to alto, tenor and bass — and then welcomed opportunities to participate in joint ventures with the Girls’ Choir.

And, as adults filled out the ranks, all participated and were recognized equally. A multi-generational dream.

As our former Organist/Choirmaster frequently observed, how many places in this culture can boys work alongside men without throwing or catching something?

Dwight worried that such an approach would bring the young men to the church “as males” rather than as people. Would this mean they come motivated by something other than the Gospel? Well, personally for me one of the difficulties of conversion is to go beyond a simple attraction to the Gospel and figure out how to actually live in it. It can seem pretty disconnected from me, this story of a man who lived and died 2,000 years ago in a totally different culture. Which is why knowing other people who’ve been down that road is so crucial. A lot of them are men, but I would be in trouble if they were only men. So it doesn’t surprise me that boys, especially modern boys who spend so much of their lives under female authorities, would need to learn how to live the Gospel from older men.

Another point, especially for churches that have a large feminist and/or gay contingent, is that such male bonding does not need to be feared. I think that many gender misfits were traumatized by all-male groups on the schoolyard, and may half-consciously discourage any hetero male group that forms for any purpose other than overthrowing their own prejudices. (Heck, all-female groups can be pretty tough too, an issue I had to deal with within myself before I went to the women’s retreat.) Sometimes members of the male minority in a female-dominated church don’t really want things to change, because they actually prefer being surrounded by women. (Hugo has written about his own efforts to overcome those sorts of hangups.)

Finally, I think another important difference between PMC and a lot of liberal churches is that it’s pervaded with such a strong sense of duty. I mean, they actually rarely use the word, but it’s in the air nonetheless. Everyone seems to grasp that being Christian involves a set of duties to God, family, neighbor, church and society. I think one reason men tend to wander away from mainline churches is not that they don’t believe, but that they don’t carry a sense that participation in church is an integral part of belief. I don’t know that women do either, but they seem more able to involve themselves because they enjoy the social life and because (often) they don’t have full-time jobs and simply have more time.

So even though I would not totally reject the idea that men stay away from churches because they reject the Gospel’s challenge to their power, I don’t think that’s all there is to it. In fact, judging from what I’ve seen in many mainline churches, the problem may be the extent to which it doesn’t challenge them, and convict them with the need and with the means to change their lives.

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