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Lower than the Angels: A History of Sex and Christianity
A major new assessment of one of the most controversial topics in history
Few matters produce more public interest and public anxiety than sex and religion. Much of the political contention and division in societies across the world centres on sexual topics, and one-third of the global population is Christian in background or outlook. The issue goes to the heart of present-day religion.
The Bible observes that God made humanity ‘for a little while lower than the angels’. If humans are that close to angels, where lies the difference? Is it human sexuality and what we do with it? In a single lifetime, Christianity or historically Christian societies have witnessed one of the most extraordinary about-turns in attitudes to sex and gender in human history. There have followed revolutions in the place of women in society, a new place for same-sex love amid the spectrum of human emotions, and a public exploration of gender and trans identity. For many the new situation has brought exciting liberation – for others, fury and fear.
This book seeks to calm fears and encourage understanding through telling a three-thousand-year-long tale of Christians encountering sex, gender and the family, with noises off from their sacred texts. The message of Lower Than The Angels is simple, necessary and to pay attention to the sheer glorious complexity and contradictions in the history of Christianity. The reader can decide from the story told here whether there is a single Christian theology of sex, or many contending voices in a symphony that is not at all complete. Oxford’s Emeritus Professor of the History of the Church introduces an epic of ordinary and extraordinary Christians trying to make sense of themselves and of humanity’s deepest desires, fears and hopes.
Few matters produce more public interest and public anxiety than sex and religion. Much of the political contention and division in societies across the world centres on sexual topics, and one-third of the global population is Christian in background or outlook. The issue goes to the heart of present-day religion.
The Bible observes that God made humanity ‘for a little while lower than the angels’. If humans are that close to angels, where lies the difference? Is it human sexuality and what we do with it? In a single lifetime, Christianity or historically Christian societies have witnessed one of the most extraordinary about-turns in attitudes to sex and gender in human history. There have followed revolutions in the place of women in society, a new place for same-sex love amid the spectrum of human emotions, and a public exploration of gender and trans identity. For many the new situation has brought exciting liberation – for others, fury and fear.
This book seeks to calm fears and encourage understanding through telling a three-thousand-year-long tale of Christians encountering sex, gender and the family, with noises off from their sacred texts. The message of Lower Than The Angels is simple, necessary and to pay attention to the sheer glorious complexity and contradictions in the history of Christianity. The reader can decide from the story told here whether there is a single Christian theology of sex, or many contending voices in a symphony that is not at all complete. Oxford’s Emeritus Professor of the History of the Church introduces an epic of ordinary and extraordinary Christians trying to make sense of themselves and of humanity’s deepest desires, fears and hopes.
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First published September 19, 2024
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March 4, 2025
A dense but accessible and highly illuminating history of Christianity which takes as its central themes sex and sexuality. MacCulloch traces ideas and teachings about relationships, the links between clergy and lay people, the position of women, over the course of two thousand years. Although he refers to Eastern Orthodoxy, MacCulloch primarily examines the evolution of western European, predominantly English, religious institutions from Catholic to Protestant. MacCulloch doesn’t consider the Bible as primary in directing how sex and relationships were framed and/or understood – one example is his encounter with a conservative American evangelical who asserted the holiness of marriage but was happy to overlook Jesus’s warnings against divorce. More significant are the ways in which the Bible interacted with wider cultural norms and theological thought. This means that MacCulloch draws on wide-ranging sources from literature to legal documents. MacCulloch positions himself as essentially an outsider for much of what he’s exploring. Once on track to become an Anglican vicar, like previous generations of his family, his identity as a gay man stirred conflicts that led him towards the practice of history instead.
Key areas examined here are issues around the nature of marriage, celibacy and the priesthood, sexual intercourse, and gender. MacCulloch explores the impact of wider social and cultural contexts on shifting Church doctrines. One example from the early years of Christianity was the impact of the acceptance of same-sex relationships in Greek society as a life stage: one that operated rather like mentoring between an older ‘wiser’ man and a younger one. In Hebrew settings this wasn't an accepted practice but polygyny was, many heroic Biblical men such as Abraham had more than one wife. It was only later under the influence of figures like Paul, and through New Testament representations of Jesus’s teachings that monogamy became the expectation i.e. the marriage of one man and one woman. From around the sixth to twelfth centuries, what was commonly referred to as “sodomy” was fiercely denounced, Christmas sermons proclaimed that Jesus refused to be born until all the “sodomites” were dead, so that Christmas Eve was tied to their wholesale slaughter! Although MacCulloch suggests that same-sex relationships resurged and were reconfigured, through monasticism, imported into Christianity in the second century CE. Monks were initially those given to the Church as children by their parents. However, later adults were allowed to enter monasteries. It wasn’t then uncommon for Christian monasteries to have a homosocial component – or “same-sex emotional energy” - not unlike the idea of the romantic friendship. Although an insistence on celibacy and asceticism ruled out actual sex.
An emphasis on celibacy and the notion of purity it was said to represent, was also a later development within Christianity. In the Eastern Orthodox Church, celibacy tended to be confined to those intent on rising within Church hierarchies, parish priests were free to marry. In western Europe celibacy persisted within Roman Catholicism. But the Protestant Reformation dispensed with it for priests within what became the Protestant Church. Instead, Protestant clergy were encouraged to model an ideal of family life for their parishioners, a holy family of sorts. Post-Enlightenment, sex was increasingly regarded as private – at least for Protestants – and the Church began to lose its authority in this area. MacCulloch notes that this was particularly the case in England and The Netherlands where increasing economic prosperity encouraged notions of freedom of choice in general: from everyday consumption to the more personal. Women began to have a stronger voice, while the development of Brazilian rubber plantations made condoms more widely available, severing connections between sex and reproduction. Something which both Protestant and Catholic authorities contested but that became acceptable within Anglicanism - if within the context of marriage.
Changing attitudes within Church institutions and teachings over time, underline the ways in which Christianity is not a fixed set of beliefs with concomitant behaviours. But rather it’s subject to external historical forces from social to cultural to political and economic. Something which, for MacCulloch, points to the possibility of further, future variations, creating or opening spaces for difference – for instance broader acceptance/acknowledgement of queer identities and contemporary forms of sexual expression. Overall, thoughtful, fascinating and incredibly informative.
Thanks to Netgalley and publisher Allen Lane for an ARC
Key areas examined here are issues around the nature of marriage, celibacy and the priesthood, sexual intercourse, and gender. MacCulloch explores the impact of wider social and cultural contexts on shifting Church doctrines. One example from the early years of Christianity was the impact of the acceptance of same-sex relationships in Greek society as a life stage: one that operated rather like mentoring between an older ‘wiser’ man and a younger one. In Hebrew settings this wasn't an accepted practice but polygyny was, many heroic Biblical men such as Abraham had more than one wife. It was only later under the influence of figures like Paul, and through New Testament representations of Jesus’s teachings that monogamy became the expectation i.e. the marriage of one man and one woman. From around the sixth to twelfth centuries, what was commonly referred to as “sodomy” was fiercely denounced, Christmas sermons proclaimed that Jesus refused to be born until all the “sodomites” were dead, so that Christmas Eve was tied to their wholesale slaughter! Although MacCulloch suggests that same-sex relationships resurged and were reconfigured, through monasticism, imported into Christianity in the second century CE. Monks were initially those given to the Church as children by their parents. However, later adults were allowed to enter monasteries. It wasn’t then uncommon for Christian monasteries to have a homosocial component – or “same-sex emotional energy” - not unlike the idea of the romantic friendship. Although an insistence on celibacy and asceticism ruled out actual sex.
An emphasis on celibacy and the notion of purity it was said to represent, was also a later development within Christianity. In the Eastern Orthodox Church, celibacy tended to be confined to those intent on rising within Church hierarchies, parish priests were free to marry. In western Europe celibacy persisted within Roman Catholicism. But the Protestant Reformation dispensed with it for priests within what became the Protestant Church. Instead, Protestant clergy were encouraged to model an ideal of family life for their parishioners, a holy family of sorts. Post-Enlightenment, sex was increasingly regarded as private – at least for Protestants – and the Church began to lose its authority in this area. MacCulloch notes that this was particularly the case in England and The Netherlands where increasing economic prosperity encouraged notions of freedom of choice in general: from everyday consumption to the more personal. Women began to have a stronger voice, while the development of Brazilian rubber plantations made condoms more widely available, severing connections between sex and reproduction. Something which both Protestant and Catholic authorities contested but that became acceptable within Anglicanism - if within the context of marriage.
Changing attitudes within Church institutions and teachings over time, underline the ways in which Christianity is not a fixed set of beliefs with concomitant behaviours. But rather it’s subject to external historical forces from social to cultural to political and economic. Something which, for MacCulloch, points to the possibility of further, future variations, creating or opening spaces for difference – for instance broader acceptance/acknowledgement of queer identities and contemporary forms of sexual expression. Overall, thoughtful, fascinating and incredibly informative.
Thanks to Netgalley and publisher Allen Lane for an ARC
November 7, 2025
Is anyone obsessed with sex more – or more unhealthily – than the profoundly religious? It's a strange fixation among the fundamentalist-minded, which lends credence to the arguments of those psychologists (Jung's Wandlungen und Symbole der Libido comes to mind) who argue that religion is, at its root, a way of sublimating the sexual impulses. Certainly those in the religious establishment have often seemed to take a disproportionate interest in the subject.
What else but conflicted emotions around sex can explain, for example, the mysterious doctrines of Mary's virginity? It was eventually held by theologians not just that she conceived without having sex, but also that she gave birth virginally, though what exactly that means is anyone's guess; when one of Mary's midwives, in an early piece of apocrypha, performed a gynaecological exam in disbelief, her hands caught fire as punishment for her lack of faith. You thought your thrush was bad.
Most of this, as MacCulloch makes abundantly clear in this romping survey, has nothing to do with scriptural authority and everything to do with the much more slippery area of theological ‘tradition’. And some of these traditions have become foundational to Christian belief, contingent though they are on the fairly arbitrary thought-experiments of just a few dozen men in the Mediterranean basin during the centuries after Jesus's death.
Then again, some of the things we think of as traditions are relatively recent arrivals. The idea that the soul enters the body at conception – now fundamental to religious arguments against abortion – wasn't common until a couple of hundred years ago; before that, most in the Western Church followed the arguments of Aristotle and Galen that ‘ensoulment’ happened after forty days of pregnancy for a boy, or eighty for a girl.
This was an appealing idea, since if the soul did enter the body at conception then it would coincide with the actual sex, and – yuck! – we can't have that. Most traditions, you will be unsurprised to learn, have thus built up an ‘inescapable association between shame and sex, not excluding marital sexuality’. Many early thinkers believed that having too much sex even with your spouse was a form of adultery, and one abbot who listed all the liturgical and medicals days when a husband and wife could not rock the kasbah ended up ruling out ‘around two-thirds of a calendar year’.
In the end, the Western Church went as far as to take the crazy step – not replicated by any other Christian group before or since – to make all the clergy celibate, which remains the case in Catholicism. This raised a problem: if the clergy were't having babies, someone else had to. Suddenly, sex was back on the table for everyone else; indeed, marriage and procreative sex suddenly became a holy duty. Church weddings, which hadn't been a thing for nearly a thousand years, suddenly became central to society.
This set up a double inheritance that has echoed down to the present day: sex is unclean, shameful, sinful; sex is also sacred, social, sacramental. No wonder we're all confused.
So, as this might suggest, marriage turns out to be the principle recurring subject of this book – slightly to my disappointment. At times we seem to go many long pages, even whole chapters, without really touching on the book's subject in any but the most tenuous sense. MacCulloch is much more interested in the theological arguments than the emotional or psychological interactions of sex and Christianity – to the point where he sometimes skips over the kind of details I think readers are justified in expecting to get more attention.
The deep background on abortion outlined above, for example, is not matched by any comparable discussion of subjects like infidelity, say, or oral sex. There is a fascinating discussion of the passage at Genesis 19 supposedly condemning homosexuality, but no discussion of the passage at Genesis 38 supposedly condemning masturbation. Masturbation doesn't really get mentioned at all (apart from one admittedly excellent throwaway reference to a fifth-century monk who, to avoid onanistic temptation, applied ‘a small desert snake to his genitals’. Just a small one!).
So this feels considerably more like a history of religion – though from a specific angle – than a history of sex, which is fine except that MacCulloch has already written the best book on that subject with his History of Christianity: The First Three Thousand Years and I wanted something more conspicuously different here. Perhaps that's why I found the first hundred pages, on the early Church, the most engaging, followed by the last hundred pages, when we connect with the present day.
There's a mounting sense of moral outrage through this final section, which even MacCulloch's careful, scholarly prose can't disguise: he is witheringly convincing about the fact that ‘self-styled traditionalists rarely know enough about the traditions that they proclaim’, and eventually gets round to posing what I think is the critical question for our own times:
The answer he identifies is mild enough, but still shows admirable clarity on a subject that too many writers tiptoe around:
Though I would have loved a little more anecdotal detail in this book, I always appreciate MacCulloch's writing, which is witty, wide-ranging, generous and judicious. You trust his sentences and you trust his judgements. His (only incidental) comments on gender and trans issues are amazingly perceptive; having recently read Judith Butler's Who’s Afraid of Gender?, a right-minded but fatally vague treatise, I was reminded here of just how essential historical clarity is for these issues.
And that's what MacCulloch prescribes. ‘Knowledge is like a medicine to soothe a fever,’ he writes, like the model academic he is; ‘in particular, proper knowledge of the past is a medicine for intellectual fevers contracted from prejudiced views of history.’ He makes the ideal physician.
What else but conflicted emotions around sex can explain, for example, the mysterious doctrines of Mary's virginity? It was eventually held by theologians not just that she conceived without having sex, but also that she gave birth virginally, though what exactly that means is anyone's guess; when one of Mary's midwives, in an early piece of apocrypha, performed a gynaecological exam in disbelief, her hands caught fire as punishment for her lack of faith. You thought your thrush was bad.
Most of this, as MacCulloch makes abundantly clear in this romping survey, has nothing to do with scriptural authority and everything to do with the much more slippery area of theological ‘tradition’. And some of these traditions have become foundational to Christian belief, contingent though they are on the fairly arbitrary thought-experiments of just a few dozen men in the Mediterranean basin during the centuries after Jesus's death.
Then again, some of the things we think of as traditions are relatively recent arrivals. The idea that the soul enters the body at conception – now fundamental to religious arguments against abortion – wasn't common until a couple of hundred years ago; before that, most in the Western Church followed the arguments of Aristotle and Galen that ‘ensoulment’ happened after forty days of pregnancy for a boy, or eighty for a girl.
This was an appealing idea, since if the soul did enter the body at conception then it would coincide with the actual sex, and – yuck! – we can't have that. Most traditions, you will be unsurprised to learn, have thus built up an ‘inescapable association between shame and sex, not excluding marital sexuality’. Many early thinkers believed that having too much sex even with your spouse was a form of adultery, and one abbot who listed all the liturgical and medicals days when a husband and wife could not rock the kasbah ended up ruling out ‘around two-thirds of a calendar year’.
In the end, the Western Church went as far as to take the crazy step – not replicated by any other Christian group before or since – to make all the clergy celibate, which remains the case in Catholicism. This raised a problem: if the clergy were't having babies, someone else had to. Suddenly, sex was back on the table for everyone else; indeed, marriage and procreative sex suddenly became a holy duty. Church weddings, which hadn't been a thing for nearly a thousand years, suddenly became central to society.
This set up a double inheritance that has echoed down to the present day: sex is unclean, shameful, sinful; sex is also sacred, social, sacramental. No wonder we're all confused.
So, as this might suggest, marriage turns out to be the principle recurring subject of this book – slightly to my disappointment. At times we seem to go many long pages, even whole chapters, without really touching on the book's subject in any but the most tenuous sense. MacCulloch is much more interested in the theological arguments than the emotional or psychological interactions of sex and Christianity – to the point where he sometimes skips over the kind of details I think readers are justified in expecting to get more attention.
The deep background on abortion outlined above, for example, is not matched by any comparable discussion of subjects like infidelity, say, or oral sex. There is a fascinating discussion of the passage at Genesis 19 supposedly condemning homosexuality, but no discussion of the passage at Genesis 38 supposedly condemning masturbation. Masturbation doesn't really get mentioned at all (apart from one admittedly excellent throwaway reference to a fifth-century monk who, to avoid onanistic temptation, applied ‘a small desert snake to his genitals’. Just a small one!).
So this feels considerably more like a history of religion – though from a specific angle – than a history of sex, which is fine except that MacCulloch has already written the best book on that subject with his History of Christianity: The First Three Thousand Years and I wanted something more conspicuously different here. Perhaps that's why I found the first hundred pages, on the early Church, the most engaging, followed by the last hundred pages, when we connect with the present day.
There's a mounting sense of moral outrage through this final section, which even MacCulloch's careful, scholarly prose can't disguise: he is witheringly convincing about the fact that ‘self-styled traditionalists rarely know enough about the traditions that they proclaim’, and eventually gets round to posing what I think is the critical question for our own times:
Throughout the modern world, the most easily heard tone in religion (not just in Christianity) is one of angry conservatism. Why?
The answer he identifies is mild enough, but still shows admirable clarity on a subject that too many writers tiptoe around:
The anger centres on a profound shift in gender roles traditionally given a religious significance and validated by religious traditions. It embodies the hurt of men at cultural changes that have handed a share of power to women and made room for a variety of sexual and gender identities. That threatens to marginalize heterosexual men and deprive them of dignity, hegemony or even much usefulness – not merely those who already enjoy male privilege, but those who in traditional cultural systems would expect to inherit it.
Though I would have loved a little more anecdotal detail in this book, I always appreciate MacCulloch's writing, which is witty, wide-ranging, generous and judicious. You trust his sentences and you trust his judgements. His (only incidental) comments on gender and trans issues are amazingly perceptive; having recently read Judith Butler's Who’s Afraid of Gender?, a right-minded but fatally vague treatise, I was reminded here of just how essential historical clarity is for these issues.
And that's what MacCulloch prescribes. ‘Knowledge is like a medicine to soothe a fever,’ he writes, like the model academic he is; ‘in particular, proper knowledge of the past is a medicine for intellectual fevers contracted from prejudiced views of history.’ He makes the ideal physician.
June 4, 2025
God damn her ass is dense. Stoked to be a republicans worst nightmare with my new knowledge though
November 11, 2025
Let’s get one thing out of the way: this book is a door stopper. I had to take it out from the library three times to make it through the more than 600 pages. But it was absolutely worth the many hours it took to read. If you, like me, are a theology and church history nerd, you will love this incredibly extensive and in-depth look at historical Christian perspectives on love, sex, and gender.
I appreciated the sheer breadth of this historical examination. The author keeps us abreast of what was going on in the Orthodox, Catholic, and Protestant churches throughout all of Christian history. There are SO many interesting little historical facts in this book, each of which could easily merit a book of its own.
For me, the most fascinating part was seeing how the affirmation of women’s equality and participation in the church has ebbed and flowed throughout history. We can’t take for granted that history is always moving in the right direction. With the current rise of the tradwife movement and those who want to roll back women’s rights, this realization felt particularly resonant.
This is not a quick or easy read, but it is such a worthy one.
I appreciated the sheer breadth of this historical examination. The author keeps us abreast of what was going on in the Orthodox, Catholic, and Protestant churches throughout all of Christian history. There are SO many interesting little historical facts in this book, each of which could easily merit a book of its own.
For me, the most fascinating part was seeing how the affirmation of women’s equality and participation in the church has ebbed and flowed throughout history. We can’t take for granted that history is always moving in the right direction. With the current rise of the tradwife movement and those who want to roll back women’s rights, this realization felt particularly resonant.
This is not a quick or easy read, but it is such a worthy one.
October 5, 2024
Absolutely fantastic. A look at sexuality within a Christian context from the very start as a sect right up to the present day, yes this is largely although not absolutely Euro-centric, and yes there are aspects which are skipped over a little- but this merely provides further avenues to explore. This touches on so much and is simply a brilliant piece of work.
November 10, 2024
Like its predecessor and companion piece, Christianity: The First 3000 Years, this is an erudite, extensively researched, profoundly compassionate look at sex and Christianity in particular. Although it’s half the length of 3000, it packs a lot in. It also naturally covers much of the same ground, which probably accounts for why I could read it in a weekend, unlike 3000, which took me 7 or 8 days while on annual leave. Like art history, Western history is by its nature also the history of the various churches. I enjoyed myself a lot and found it very helpful to retread the same ground and so embed it into my memory. Other readers might find the two texts too similar, in which case I’d definitely go with 3000 as being more comprehensive. The information in Lower than the Angels expands on topics in that volume rather than introducing much new material.
‘The author of the Pastoral Epistles was torn between Christian theology, a desire for public respectability and a firm conviction that young widows were natural troublemakers [...]’
‘[...] actual martyrdom was no longer a possibility at the hands of a Roman imperial power that had inconveniently replaced persecution with financial subsidies.’
This is why I find the reading so fun; he’s funny!
‘Jesus, for instance, bitterly condemned hypocrisy, unlike that topic now so agitating Christanity, homosexuality, which he never mentions. Yet Christian powers have never put hypocrites to death for their hypocrisy, in contrast to the fate of “sodomites” in medieval Europe and its offshoots worldwide.’
And sharp.
‘Being perfect, the Supreme God is without passions, since passions involve change from one mood to another, and it is in the nature of perfection that it cannot change. Inevitably Plato’s God is distanced from compassion at human tragedy, because compassion is a passion or emotion.’
This is a really big point, actually, which MacCullough doesn’t stay with because after all this is not theology or philosophy but history. But the insuperable divide between compassion and perfection?! Is no one religious worried about it? Or does Jesus just fill God’s experiential gap?
‘If that is so, which God is it: Jewish or Greek? Christians spent the first five centuries after the life of Christ trying to find answers to the conundrum; they have never satisfied everyone.’
Hahaha, as someone raised Catholic I never thought the God of the Hebrews or the gods of the Greeks were anything to do with mine, who I definitely melded with Santa Claus, but I am also not a theologian.
‘It is in itself part of the Enlightenment’s wider gift to humanity; a commitment to treating one’s own culture with the same critical curiosity and detachment that most societies have found easier to exercise in scrutinising other cultures. The heirs of the Enlightenment have often observed such relativism more in the breach than the observance, but it is still an ideal to which to aspire.’
Love this.
Facts I learned:
You can translate Luke to suggest Mary was the victim of rape.
‘Encratism’ is too much rigorous self-denial, which can be a heresy.
‘Adelphopoiesis’ is the sacred making of brothers which I feel was cannibalised effectively by Cassandra Clare to set up turgid love triangles.
Monophysites believe Christ’s divinity and humanity are one nature, Dyophysites believe he was one substance and two natures, what a wild thing to fall out about for centuries.
The Pelagian heresy comes from the idea of NOT surrendering all moral responsibility to God, as per Augustine, and taking some personal responsibility for yourself. WTF.
Describing the revelation of Islam as ‘inlibration’, via the book. Also the Qur’an allows for interfaith marriage with other Peoples of the Book.
Irish penitentials of the seventh century are the originators of indulgences.
The silent ‘sign system’ of Cluny became a universal language across its satellites.
The bans on clerical children in 1031 started the obsession with illegitimacy in Roman Catholicism that no other faith equals.
Ironically, the only Church not to introduce a divorce law after the Reformation was … the Church of England!
The last eunuch castrated for the Sistine Chapel’s choir was recently enough to be recorded on a GRAMAPHONE.
‘Rough music’ was the name for Punch and Judy style shows that changed from husband- to wife-beaters over time.
‘Antinomianism’ is freedom from moral law or good works in salvation.
Biblical exegesis turning the snake in the garden of Eden into a monkey is the basis for a lot of racist shit by modern US Evangelists.
Ultramontanism is the drive to centralise the Church in Rome, whereas cisalpinism is the opposite force, based on where they are compared to the Alps.
The number of nuns in Ireland went from 120 in 1800 to 8000 in 1900!
The concept of ensoulment is when the soul enters the foetus, which originally wasn’t conception because that’s sinful, but 40-80 days after, depending on gender.
Pope Pius X lowered First Communion age to 7 in 1907 and kicked off a whole sub-economy in Ireland anyway.
There are twice as many Christians as Muslims, which suprises me.
The ‘obey’ clause was only in the Church of England (thanks, Cranmer) and was removed in 1928.
‘The author of the Pastoral Epistles was torn between Christian theology, a desire for public respectability and a firm conviction that young widows were natural troublemakers [...]’
‘[...] actual martyrdom was no longer a possibility at the hands of a Roman imperial power that had inconveniently replaced persecution with financial subsidies.’
This is why I find the reading so fun; he’s funny!
‘Jesus, for instance, bitterly condemned hypocrisy, unlike that topic now so agitating Christanity, homosexuality, which he never mentions. Yet Christian powers have never put hypocrites to death for their hypocrisy, in contrast to the fate of “sodomites” in medieval Europe and its offshoots worldwide.’
And sharp.
‘Being perfect, the Supreme God is without passions, since passions involve change from one mood to another, and it is in the nature of perfection that it cannot change. Inevitably Plato’s God is distanced from compassion at human tragedy, because compassion is a passion or emotion.’
This is a really big point, actually, which MacCullough doesn’t stay with because after all this is not theology or philosophy but history. But the insuperable divide between compassion and perfection?! Is no one religious worried about it? Or does Jesus just fill God’s experiential gap?
‘If that is so, which God is it: Jewish or Greek? Christians spent the first five centuries after the life of Christ trying to find answers to the conundrum; they have never satisfied everyone.’
Hahaha, as someone raised Catholic I never thought the God of the Hebrews or the gods of the Greeks were anything to do with mine, who I definitely melded with Santa Claus, but I am also not a theologian.
‘It is in itself part of the Enlightenment’s wider gift to humanity; a commitment to treating one’s own culture with the same critical curiosity and detachment that most societies have found easier to exercise in scrutinising other cultures. The heirs of the Enlightenment have often observed such relativism more in the breach than the observance, but it is still an ideal to which to aspire.’
Love this.
Facts I learned:
You can translate Luke to suggest Mary was the victim of rape.
‘Encratism’ is too much rigorous self-denial, which can be a heresy.
‘Adelphopoiesis’ is the sacred making of brothers which I feel was cannibalised effectively by Cassandra Clare to set up turgid love triangles.
Monophysites believe Christ’s divinity and humanity are one nature, Dyophysites believe he was one substance and two natures, what a wild thing to fall out about for centuries.
The Pelagian heresy comes from the idea of NOT surrendering all moral responsibility to God, as per Augustine, and taking some personal responsibility for yourself. WTF.
Describing the revelation of Islam as ‘inlibration’, via the book. Also the Qur’an allows for interfaith marriage with other Peoples of the Book.
Irish penitentials of the seventh century are the originators of indulgences.
The silent ‘sign system’ of Cluny became a universal language across its satellites.
The bans on clerical children in 1031 started the obsession with illegitimacy in Roman Catholicism that no other faith equals.
Ironically, the only Church not to introduce a divorce law after the Reformation was … the Church of England!
The last eunuch castrated for the Sistine Chapel’s choir was recently enough to be recorded on a GRAMAPHONE.
‘Rough music’ was the name for Punch and Judy style shows that changed from husband- to wife-beaters over time.
‘Antinomianism’ is freedom from moral law or good works in salvation.
Biblical exegesis turning the snake in the garden of Eden into a monkey is the basis for a lot of racist shit by modern US Evangelists.
Ultramontanism is the drive to centralise the Church in Rome, whereas cisalpinism is the opposite force, based on where they are compared to the Alps.
The number of nuns in Ireland went from 120 in 1800 to 8000 in 1900!
The concept of ensoulment is when the soul enters the foetus, which originally wasn’t conception because that’s sinful, but 40-80 days after, depending on gender.
Pope Pius X lowered First Communion age to 7 in 1907 and kicked off a whole sub-economy in Ireland anyway.
There are twice as many Christians as Muslims, which suprises me.
The ‘obey’ clause was only in the Church of England (thanks, Cranmer) and was removed in 1928.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
Read
December 16, 2024A majority of Christians today believe that their faith involves seeing heterosexual, monogamous, and procreative sexual intercourse as the norm. African Anglicans and Russian Orthodox denounce homosexuality as a harbinger of Western degeneration; the pope joins American evangelicals in detesting abortion. The Holy Family stands with the nuclear family. Diarmaid MacCulloch’s irritation at such ahistorical conservatism has moved him to track the sheer variety of Christian theologies of sex over the ages with Gibbonian wit and occasional asperity. Lower than the Angels is an intricate survey with a clear moral: Christians should think twice before casting the first stone.
The Bible was always too contradictory and opaque to rule Christian thinking on gender or sexuality. The currency and meaning of proof texts fluctuated with the ambitions of Church leaders and the elites to which they catered. Outside influences mattered too. Christians absorbed monogamy from the Classical societies in which they were at first an invisible minority, even if they abhorred their resort to abortion and infanticide. They studiously overlooked the polygamists of the Hebrew scriptures, just as they rejected male genital mutilation. Their puritanism was also more Classical than Jewish. Plenty of wild men – and some wild women – in Egypt and Syria tried to relinquish sexuality altogether, with Origen even castrating himself. Yet influential theologians emulated Roman thinkers in calling men to show self-restraint, but not abstinence, in their sexual lives.
Read the review at https://www.historytoday.com/archive/...
Michael Ledger-Lomas is a historian of religion.
The Bible was always too contradictory and opaque to rule Christian thinking on gender or sexuality. The currency and meaning of proof texts fluctuated with the ambitions of Church leaders and the elites to which they catered. Outside influences mattered too. Christians absorbed monogamy from the Classical societies in which they were at first an invisible minority, even if they abhorred their resort to abortion and infanticide. They studiously overlooked the polygamists of the Hebrew scriptures, just as they rejected male genital mutilation. Their puritanism was also more Classical than Jewish. Plenty of wild men – and some wild women – in Egypt and Syria tried to relinquish sexuality altogether, with Origen even castrating himself. Yet influential theologians emulated Roman thinkers in calling men to show self-restraint, but not abstinence, in their sexual lives.
Read the review at https://www.historytoday.com/archive/...
Michael Ledger-Lomas is a historian of religion.
September 18, 2025
This book is, unfortunately, a mess. I think MacCulloch made a mistake thinking this story was best told chronologically, instead of thematically. The problem with making this a history on sex, gender and marriage within Christianity is that you'd need to lay out the entire history of Christianity alongside Western modernization, The Reformation, The Crusades, the birth of Islam, The collapse of Rome, Paul, Jesus, Rome again, Ancient Greece, Babylon, Judaism, up and until the historical Mozes. And that's just too much, and worse, told in not an engaging, but rather stiff, unmemorable way. Which is such a shame, because the subject is so, so interesting! And there certainly are some very interesting bits and facts in Lower than the Angels, but they're just overshadowed by the many uninteresting parts. For example, I already knew about certain parts of the Bible being almost certainly created (not written, but orally) by women, namely the ancient songs such as Song of Deborah, but even as a Religions scientist I had never heard of David's highly probable homosexual relationship with Jonathan. I just don't understand why I had to wade through so much explaining to get there. Halfway along the book I started to skim the text, reading only the parts that stuck out. But I didn't even care anymore when I got to the last 2 parts. Too bad...
December 17, 2025
This is a non-fiction that describes the roots and changes over time in attitudes of Christianity toward sex and sexual life. It chiefly concerns itself with such topics as marriage and same sex relations. It shows that a lot of what laymen like me see as ‘eternal’ Church practices aren’t actually that old. For example, weddings and marriage can be seen as one of the main practices where even non-churchgoers meet with the practice. However, this practice started in the form we are familiar with in the 10th century. Early Christianity wasn’t that fond of family, especially in the current sense a nuclear family. From JC often being frankly dismissive of his biological family, including his mother: when Mary and his brothers and sisters came to one of his public events asking to speak to him, his discouraging response was to point to the disciples around him as his mother and siblings to early Christians, who thought that living unconsummated marriage is perfectly fine. For the new religion was trying to dismiss a lot of things present in then-current Judaism, like polygamy and replace it with the Greco-Roman practice of monogamy. Actually, Jews also were nudged in Christian Europe toward monogamy around the tenth century. And as late as the thirteenth- and fourteenth-centuries, in England, church porches contrasted in architectural style with the main body of the building, for instance, being built of wood rather than stone: that was a statement that they were part of a church, but also not part of a church. And only there, outside the church proper, weddings happened.
There is a lot about eunuchs, the practice that predated Christianity, but which was actively encouraged by some early practitioners. Even our present representation of angels as sexless beings is different from how they were presented. The current angels with wings are borrowed from Nica, while the earliest depictions had beards and were much more masculine.
It is funny how some prosecutors of homosexuality defended why JC hasn’t mentioned them ever: that at the birth of Christ all the ‘sodomites’ in the world died, before he would condescend to enter this sinful world, since they committed sins against nature. This malevolent Christmas fable involved distorted citations of Jerome and Augustine, good evidence that it started life in learned and clerical circles before moving out to instruct the wider public. After surfacing in an anonymous poem of around 1200 in honour of Mary, it has an early association with the Orders of friars as they began their task of preaching and instruction in the thirteenth century, and they went on plugging away at it for centuries.
This book is full of interesting facts, recommended.
There is a lot about eunuchs, the practice that predated Christianity, but which was actively encouraged by some early practitioners. Even our present representation of angels as sexless beings is different from how they were presented. The current angels with wings are borrowed from Nica, while the earliest depictions had beards and were much more masculine.
It is funny how some prosecutors of homosexuality defended why JC hasn’t mentioned them ever: that at the birth of Christ all the ‘sodomites’ in the world died, before he would condescend to enter this sinful world, since they committed sins against nature. This malevolent Christmas fable involved distorted citations of Jerome and Augustine, good evidence that it started life in learned and clerical circles before moving out to instruct the wider public. After surfacing in an anonymous poem of around 1200 in honour of Mary, it has an early association with the Orders of friars as they began their task of preaching and instruction in the thirteenth century, and they went on plugging away at it for centuries.
This book is full of interesting facts, recommended.
November 6, 2024
#50Books2024 Book No 51 : Lower than the Angels - A History of Sex and Christianity by Diarmaid MacCulloch
The book tries to trace the development of the Christian Society’s attitude to sex and sexuality (including homosexuality), marriage and family (especially as it related to clergy and laity) and issues like abortion from Christ to modern times.
The book tries to trace the development of the Christian Society’s attitude to sex and sexuality (including homosexuality), marriage and family (especially as it related to clergy and laity) and issues like abortion from Christ to modern times.
July 21, 2025
"There is no such thing as a Christian theology of sex. There are multiple Christian theologies of sex, many of which over two millennia been downright contradictions of each other." This book is long and dense but that matches its subject matter and one thing is very clear by the end: in 2,000 years Christianity has never known what to do with sex, sexuality, and gender identity, despite generations of loud voices proclaiming otherwise.
October 29, 2025
very neat! super dense, definitely wish i had a physical copy alongside the audiobook so i could have annotated it. will definitely have to reread again sometime
Read
November 30, 2025time to find a new thousand-pager to listen to on runs & trains
July 7, 2025
I'm going to have to give some thought to this in order to write a proper review but I enjoyed it a lot. It does cross over a great deal with his book 'A History of Christianity: The First Three Thousand Years'. It also reflects a lot of MacCulloch's own personal biases, especially towards the end. His biases reflect mine so I'm comfortable with that, others might not be.
The fundamental strength of this book is showing that when modern populist religious types talk with certainty about the family, or homosexuality, or women's rights, or whatever they do not reflect - possibly (certainly?) because they don't know - the way Christian approaches to all of these things have changed over time. From the idea that even sex within marriage might be sinful because sex is inherently sinful onwards. They're have been arguments - violent and non-violent - about many things we think - or are told - are set in stone.
They're not. The arguments about homosexuality have gone through twists and turns over time. They'll go through twists and turns in the future. Although MacCulloch notes always seem more focused on male on male sexual acts than lesbianism:
"Lesbianism has not proved so salient in conservative anger: men, including male theologians, have historically never been much interested in what women do with other women, apart from out of prurience."
It's back full of information and well-reinforced with illustrations and notes. There's also a recommended reading list.
If you're interested in this sort of subject or if you want a source of information to batter your sexist/homophobic relatives with over the dinner table. This is a book for you.
The fundamental strength of this book is showing that when modern populist religious types talk with certainty about the family, or homosexuality, or women's rights, or whatever they do not reflect - possibly (certainly?) because they don't know - the way Christian approaches to all of these things have changed over time. From the idea that even sex within marriage might be sinful because sex is inherently sinful onwards. They're have been arguments - violent and non-violent - about many things we think - or are told - are set in stone.
They're not. The arguments about homosexuality have gone through twists and turns over time. They'll go through twists and turns in the future. Although MacCulloch notes always seem more focused on male on male sexual acts than lesbianism:
"Lesbianism has not proved so salient in conservative anger: men, including male theologians, have historically never been much interested in what women do with other women, apart from out of prurience."
It's back full of information and well-reinforced with illustrations and notes. There's also a recommended reading list.
If you're interested in this sort of subject or if you want a source of information to batter your sexist/homophobic relatives with over the dinner table. This is a book for you.
August 11, 2025
I definitely learned from this book, but it's incredibly dense. And a lot of information is honestly extraneous to the topic at hand and could have been cut or summed up much more briefly. DNF
February 6, 2025
Fascinating book! Lower Than the Angels by Diarmaid MacCulloch explores the complex and often fraught relationship between Christianity and sexuality throughout history. MacCulloch delves into how religious doctrine has shaped attitudes toward sex, gender, and morality, tracing these influences from early Christianity through to the modern era. He examines how theological debates, cultural shifts, and historical events have impacted Christian teachings on celibacy, marriage, homosexuality, and more. The book weaves together historical analysis, theological insight, and social commentary, offering a thorough—if sometimes dense—exploration of the subject.
I found this to be a fascinating but occasionally (maybe even, often) exhausting read. MacCulloch’s depth of knowledge is undeniable, and the historical scope is impressive, but the writing can be quite dry in places, making it a bit of a challenge to push through. That said, the book provides a compelling look at how Christianity has shaped—and been shaped by—sexuality, making it a valuable read for those interested in history, theology, or cultural shifts in sexual morality. While not always the easiest book to get through, I appreciated its insights and the broader context it provided. I found the bouncing back and forth in terms of the attention and attitudes Christianity had towards different aspects of sex and sexuality over time, both mind-boggling and insightful!
I found this to be a fascinating but occasionally (maybe even, often) exhausting read. MacCulloch’s depth of knowledge is undeniable, and the historical scope is impressive, but the writing can be quite dry in places, making it a bit of a challenge to push through. That said, the book provides a compelling look at how Christianity has shaped—and been shaped by—sexuality, making it a valuable read for those interested in history, theology, or cultural shifts in sexual morality. While not always the easiest book to get through, I appreciated its insights and the broader context it provided. I found the bouncing back and forth in terms of the attention and attitudes Christianity had towards different aspects of sex and sexuality over time, both mind-boggling and insightful!
May 12, 2025
Fascinating, well researched.
July 22, 2025
This was so cool and absolutely impressive :0
November 5, 2025
I can’t believe I both read and enjoyed a non-fiction book…
December 17, 2025
As several other viewers have noted, this book is very discursive. That becomes a problem at times, and connects to an ultimately split review.
Some of the discursive material has a semi-substantial connection to the book’s subject. Some is only somewhat, or even barely, tangential. Some of it is not even tangentially connected. There’s just no real tie.
That in turn leads to a larger issue, and the split review.
While bits of the discursive material goes beyond just “interesting” to “enchanting” or similar, some is not. And fair chunks, such as fairly major matters on biblical criticism or early Christian doctrine, is either just wrong in my critical eyes, mainly on the biblical criticism, or is simply definitionally wrong, as with one major matter in early Christian doctrine that led to a definite “WHAT?” from me.
So, core matters of the book? Five stars, if slightly rounded up; I do have a thought or two on some of this material.
Discursive matters, both on the degree of discursiveness and the problematic nature of many of them? A 2.5 combined.
That leaves the book at 3.75, rounded up.
Before I dig in, by the time I was halfway through, I wondered why MacCullough omitted the first word from the biblical line, which is that god created man “Little lower than the angels.” Is an unspoken part of the thesis the idea that most of Christian history’s struggle with sexuality viewed humans as a fair degree lower? He doesn’t say. (This all sets aside whether “little lower than the angels” or “little lower than god” is the original reading.)
With that, let’s dive in. I’ll have some spoiler alerts, mainly on material intrinsic to the core of the book and not the tangential material.
Chapter 1: Great. Most nuanced discussion of interaction between sex and gender I’ve ever read.
Chapter 2: Very good on the Greek half of the background to Christian sexuality. Jewish half, not so much. Yes, “Moses” is Egyptian and MacCullough goes where many biblical critics won’t. It doesn’t mean there’s a real kernel of truth to an exodus. Rather, it could be “projection.” Plus and related, “Moses” is part of Pharaonic throne styles in Egypt, such as “Thoth-Moshe.” What god’s son was Moses? Related: Isaiah 9 is modeled on Pharaonic coronation language; this doesn’t make Hezekiah a Pharaoh. Yahweh etymology, he’s afraid to go beyond the standard critical line, instead of the likely true Midianite hypothesis. Dates formation of an Israelite polity at least two centuries too soon to my eyeballs. To put it another way? I have one foot partially in the Copenhagen school of Tanakh interpretation, at minimum, and, while not a hardcore Davidic mythicist, have seen nothing that is convincing proof of his existence. The Tel Dan stele? “House of David” no more proves an actual David than does “House of Atreus” with actual Atreus.
Chapter 3: Hebrew LXX and Old Latin all seem to indicate a “gay” relationship between David and Jonathan. Jesus condemned Sodom for unhospitality (as did Genesis) but Philo and Josephus for “gayness.” This seems to have been a Pauline influence; Mac indicates that more Jews began pushing back against Hellenistic sexuality. Post-Ptolemaic Egypt, brother-sister marriage spread beyond pharaohs to one-fifth of total 300 years CE.
Chapter 4: Jesus the Christ. Jesus’ birth and family discussed, and surely a chapter hated by fundagelical readers. So:
Did Jesus speak Greek to trade at Sepphoris? I disagree. It was actually primarily Jewish at the turn of the centuries and the name is Hebrew. Also, did he trade there? Quite possibly not, and he never visits as an adult. It’s not consensus, but the majority of modern critical scholarship says Jesus didn’t know Greek.
Chapter 5: Paul and the first Christian assemblies. Says there are “seven or eight” authentic Paulines, and has a footnote. The footnote lists them, with “Scholarly consensus is that the genuine letters of Paul are …. 1 and 2 Thessalonians” and then, there is “some dispute about 2 Thessalonians.” It can’t be both “scholarly consensus” and “some dispute.” (The answer is 2 Thess is pseudepigraphal.) He then says Paul “could claim Roman citizenship.” Really? Then why doesn’t he? He of course doesn’t in any of his own letters. And, with that, we’re guaranteed no more than four stars. The book has some good insights already by this point on sexuality, but MacCullough is lacking indeed on some biblical criticism issues. (I never read his “Christianity,” just his “Reformation” and his Thomas Cromwell biography; I suspect “Christianity” would get 3 stars from me.)
Chapter 6: From Jewish sect to Christian churches. Its start builds on the end of chapter 5 and reinforces my take on it. Despite caveats earlier, Mac seems to have a higher to much higher view of the historicity of Acts than do I.
Chapter 7: Virgins, celibates, ascetics.
Chapter 8: Suddenly in power (300-600). Really? I understand the division of Christendom from Christianity, but claiming that the former didn’t include churches who set themselves outside the empire and claimed older traditions is wrong, first. Neither Jacobite Syria nor Miaphysite Egypt were permanently outside the empire until the Muslim conquest. And, claiming that Christendom’s ultimate expression was in late medieval Western Christianity seems like a conscious decision to reject “caesaropapism,” and is in turn something I will reject.
Chapter 9ff: Marriage: Survival and variety. “Dyophysite” is incorrect term for Churches of the East (aka Nestorians) vis-a-vis Chalcedon and Miaphysites. Nestorius et al and Orthodoxy both accept two natures; they disagree on how many persons are involved. The correct word would be “Dyoprosopites” or similar. (Wiki, under its article on “Prosopon,” has “dyoprosopic” and adds “monoprosopic” for Chalcedon with link.) This is the “WHAT?”
Chapter 10: Eastern Christianity: Enter Islam. Related to above, says we should reject the idea that the “Roman imperial adventure finally ended in 1453” as this “associates Rome’s imperial identity too closely with Christianity,” and instead plumps for 1924 and the end of the Caliphate. In this, he ignores Moscow’s claim to be the “third Rome,” so maybe the correct answer is 1917?
Chapter 11: Rise of monasteries.
Chapter 12: Much of the reasoning for Gregory et al insisting on celibate clergy in late medieval Catholicism not new to me. The part about how it enveloped lay reform efforts was.
Chapter 13: The late medieval persecuting Catholic church. Cathars and others were accused of dualism, hence sexuality issues, hence this here. Rise of burning at stake for heretics, which never before took off in West and had long ago declined in Orthodoxy. Rise of new monastic orders, all of which rejected oblation. Song of Songs was a top read in these monasteries.
Chapter 14: Reformation. Notes that the one reform of Luther than remained universal for Protestants despite later fracturing into Lutheran and Reformed (and Anabaptist and Arminian, the latter apparently not mentioned in his Christianity book, either) was for a married clergy. Like Lyndal Roper, goes a bit Freudian on Luther and father issues. I don’t think I’d read before of Erasmus’ young gay love, even in a dual bio of him and Luther I read several years ago. Interesting that Erasmus was also an Augustinian. Says Luther’s objection to indulgences might in part have been based on Augustinian predestination, something I’ve not considered before. He next notes that Gregorian pronouncements led to celibacy in terms of not being married, but not chastity, with many a priest having a concubine — whom they then married if joining the Reformation. Balboa reached California? Sorry, Mac, he didn’t, and besides, this is another of those discursive items not even tangentially connected to the book’s subject Actually, ancient Rome reportedly (admittedly anecdotal) used sleep deprivation long before Reformation Scotland. Modern non-western history includes Japanese usage.
Chapter 15: Enlightenment. Mac says that images of sex and of gender approached each other more closely than in past. Says open gay, and even more, lesbian, expression grew. “Beggar’s Benison” founded by Masons was group masturbation society. Wiki has an entry. (I’d NEVER heard of it.)
Chapter 16: Revolution. I'm hiding the first half, about the French Revolution and Napoleon, due to the stimulation of the speculative thought. Next, discusses Pius IX, Immaculate Conception as dogma (ignores Aristotelian infinite regress this opens, both here and in the early chapter where he first discusses Protoevangelium of James), Pius and abortion, etc. Code Napoleon and new civil regulation of prostitution also gets discussed. Finishes with discussion of rise of cult of Marian apparitions. Interestingly, in his footnote about its exploitations, goes from Lourdes and other 19th century visions straight to Medjugorje while skipping Fatima.
Chapter 17: Global Western Christianity. This is mainly about the rise of Protestant women’s reform movements. This is about women's sexuality, but probably within that, the furthest away from what most were expecting. Has bits on the rise of Pentecostalism, which is nice but totally unconnected to the book’s subject.
Chapter 18: A century of contraception. This is unwarrantedly brief, given things like the “quiverful” movement in conservative American Protestantism showing a degree of rapprochement with conservative Catholicism beyond official papal contraception doctrine. Shows how Paul VI was relatively modern in picking up other things from John XXIII at Vatican II but not this.
Chapter 19: Choices (and “Lady Chatterley.”) An interesting title. It’s primarily about gay and lesbian issues, though the Catholic priestly abuse scandal also pops up, as does the two-dimensional rigidity of JPII on this and other matters sexual. The indecency trial in Britain of Lady Chatterley's publisher certainly was removed from the subject of the book. Briefly looks at modern Orthodoxy, where even Greece, NATO member, etc., just isn’t as “advanced” as most of the West.
Chapter 20: A story without an end. Mac muses as to whether certain of the more modern matters of sexuality may become like usury. Citing C.S. Lewis in “Mere Christianity,” he notes that nobody but the most extreme sectarians within Christianity today hold biblical views of usury.
==
Per all of the above, this is one of those books where I'll suggest specific authorial and editorial moves that could have made it better.
1. Slice carefully here and there what would amount to 30-35 pages of the most extraneous material.
2. Expand by about 50 pages. One? What has been the modern take on sexuality issues of the Miaphysites/Oriental Orthodox and Churches of the East? Two? Has the agreement to allow married Episcopal/Anglican priests in Rome (following on Uniates) led to similar thought about doing this with other hierarchical churches, like Lutheranism in Scandinavia? Are Lutheran clergy there interested? That's just off the top of my head.
Some of the discursive material has a semi-substantial connection to the book’s subject. Some is only somewhat, or even barely, tangential. Some of it is not even tangentially connected. There’s just no real tie.
That in turn leads to a larger issue, and the split review.
While bits of the discursive material goes beyond just “interesting” to “enchanting” or similar, some is not. And fair chunks, such as fairly major matters on biblical criticism or early Christian doctrine, is either just wrong in my critical eyes, mainly on the biblical criticism, or is simply definitionally wrong, as with one major matter in early Christian doctrine that led to a definite “WHAT?” from me.
So, core matters of the book? Five stars, if slightly rounded up; I do have a thought or two on some of this material.
Discursive matters, both on the degree of discursiveness and the problematic nature of many of them? A 2.5 combined.
That leaves the book at 3.75, rounded up.
Before I dig in, by the time I was halfway through, I wondered why MacCullough omitted the first word from the biblical line, which is that god created man “Little lower than the angels.” Is an unspoken part of the thesis the idea that most of Christian history’s struggle with sexuality viewed humans as a fair degree lower? He doesn’t say. (This all sets aside whether “little lower than the angels” or “little lower than god” is the original reading.)
With that, let’s dive in. I’ll have some spoiler alerts, mainly on material intrinsic to the core of the book and not the tangential material.
Chapter 1: Great. Most nuanced discussion of interaction between sex and gender I’ve ever read.
Chapter 2: Very good on the Greek half of the background to Christian sexuality. Jewish half, not so much. Yes, “Moses” is Egyptian and MacCullough goes where many biblical critics won’t. It doesn’t mean there’s a real kernel of truth to an exodus. Rather, it could be “projection.” Plus and related, “Moses” is part of Pharaonic throne styles in Egypt, such as “Thoth-Moshe.” What god’s son was Moses? Related: Isaiah 9 is modeled on Pharaonic coronation language; this doesn’t make Hezekiah a Pharaoh. Yahweh etymology, he’s afraid to go beyond the standard critical line, instead of the likely true Midianite hypothesis. Dates formation of an Israelite polity at least two centuries too soon to my eyeballs. To put it another way? I have one foot partially in the Copenhagen school of Tanakh interpretation, at minimum, and, while not a hardcore Davidic mythicist, have seen nothing that is convincing proof of his existence. The Tel Dan stele? “House of David” no more proves an actual David than does “House of Atreus” with actual Atreus.
Chapter 3: Hebrew LXX and Old Latin all seem to indicate a “gay” relationship between David and Jonathan. Jesus condemned Sodom for unhospitality (as did Genesis) but Philo and Josephus for “gayness.” This seems to have been a Pauline influence; Mac indicates that more Jews began pushing back against Hellenistic sexuality. Post-Ptolemaic Egypt, brother-sister marriage spread beyond pharaohs to one-fifth of total 300 years CE.
Chapter 4: Jesus the Christ. Jesus’ birth and family discussed, and surely a chapter hated by fundagelical readers. So:
Did Jesus speak Greek to trade at Sepphoris? I disagree. It was actually primarily Jewish at the turn of the centuries and the name is Hebrew. Also, did he trade there? Quite possibly not, and he never visits as an adult. It’s not consensus, but the majority of modern critical scholarship says Jesus didn’t know Greek.
Chapter 5: Paul and the first Christian assemblies. Says there are “seven or eight” authentic Paulines, and has a footnote. The footnote lists them, with “Scholarly consensus is that the genuine letters of Paul are …. 1 and 2 Thessalonians” and then, there is “some dispute about 2 Thessalonians.” It can’t be both “scholarly consensus” and “some dispute.” (The answer is 2 Thess is pseudepigraphal.) He then says Paul “could claim Roman citizenship.” Really? Then why doesn’t he? He of course doesn’t in any of his own letters. And, with that, we’re guaranteed no more than four stars. The book has some good insights already by this point on sexuality, but MacCullough is lacking indeed on some biblical criticism issues. (I never read his “Christianity,” just his “Reformation” and his Thomas Cromwell biography; I suspect “Christianity” would get 3 stars from me.)
Chapter 6: From Jewish sect to Christian churches. Its start builds on the end of chapter 5 and reinforces my take on it. Despite caveats earlier, Mac seems to have a higher to much higher view of the historicity of Acts than do I.
Chapter 7: Virgins, celibates, ascetics.
Chapter 8: Suddenly in power (300-600). Really? I understand the division of Christendom from Christianity, but claiming that the former didn’t include churches who set themselves outside the empire and claimed older traditions is wrong, first. Neither Jacobite Syria nor Miaphysite Egypt were permanently outside the empire until the Muslim conquest. And, claiming that Christendom’s ultimate expression was in late medieval Western Christianity seems like a conscious decision to reject “caesaropapism,” and is in turn something I will reject.
Chapter 9ff: Marriage: Survival and variety. “Dyophysite” is incorrect term for Churches of the East (aka Nestorians) vis-a-vis Chalcedon and Miaphysites. Nestorius et al and Orthodoxy both accept two natures; they disagree on how many persons are involved. The correct word would be “Dyoprosopites” or similar. (Wiki, under its article on “Prosopon,” has “dyoprosopic” and adds “monoprosopic” for Chalcedon with link.) This is the “WHAT?”
Chapter 10: Eastern Christianity: Enter Islam. Related to above, says we should reject the idea that the “Roman imperial adventure finally ended in 1453” as this “associates Rome’s imperial identity too closely with Christianity,” and instead plumps for 1924 and the end of the Caliphate. In this, he ignores Moscow’s claim to be the “third Rome,” so maybe the correct answer is 1917?
Chapter 11: Rise of monasteries.
Chapter 12: Much of the reasoning for Gregory et al insisting on celibate clergy in late medieval Catholicism not new to me. The part about how it enveloped lay reform efforts was.
Chapter 13: The late medieval persecuting Catholic church. Cathars and others were accused of dualism, hence sexuality issues, hence this here. Rise of burning at stake for heretics, which never before took off in West and had long ago declined in Orthodoxy. Rise of new monastic orders, all of which rejected oblation. Song of Songs was a top read in these monasteries.
Chapter 14: Reformation. Notes that the one reform of Luther than remained universal for Protestants despite later fracturing into Lutheran and Reformed (and Anabaptist and Arminian, the latter apparently not mentioned in his Christianity book, either) was for a married clergy. Like Lyndal Roper, goes a bit Freudian on Luther and father issues. I don’t think I’d read before of Erasmus’ young gay love, even in a dual bio of him and Luther I read several years ago. Interesting that Erasmus was also an Augustinian. Says Luther’s objection to indulgences might in part have been based on Augustinian predestination, something I’ve not considered before. He next notes that Gregorian pronouncements led to celibacy in terms of not being married, but not chastity, with many a priest having a concubine — whom they then married if joining the Reformation. Balboa reached California? Sorry, Mac, he didn’t, and besides, this is another of those discursive items not even tangentially connected to the book’s subject Actually, ancient Rome reportedly (admittedly anecdotal) used sleep deprivation long before Reformation Scotland. Modern non-western history includes Japanese usage.
Chapter 15: Enlightenment. Mac says that images of sex and of gender approached each other more closely than in past. Says open gay, and even more, lesbian, expression grew. “Beggar’s Benison” founded by Masons was group masturbation society. Wiki has an entry. (I’d NEVER heard of it.)
Chapter 16: Revolution. I'm hiding the first half, about the French Revolution and Napoleon, due to the stimulation of the speculative thought. Next, discusses Pius IX, Immaculate Conception as dogma (ignores Aristotelian infinite regress this opens, both here and in the early chapter where he first discusses Protoevangelium of James), Pius and abortion, etc. Code Napoleon and new civil regulation of prostitution also gets discussed. Finishes with discussion of rise of cult of Marian apparitions. Interestingly, in his footnote about its exploitations, goes from Lourdes and other 19th century visions straight to Medjugorje while skipping Fatima.
Chapter 17: Global Western Christianity. This is mainly about the rise of Protestant women’s reform movements. This is about women's sexuality, but probably within that, the furthest away from what most were expecting. Has bits on the rise of Pentecostalism, which is nice but totally unconnected to the book’s subject.
Chapter 18: A century of contraception. This is unwarrantedly brief, given things like the “quiverful” movement in conservative American Protestantism showing a degree of rapprochement with conservative Catholicism beyond official papal contraception doctrine. Shows how Paul VI was relatively modern in picking up other things from John XXIII at Vatican II but not this.
Chapter 19: Choices (and “Lady Chatterley.”) An interesting title. It’s primarily about gay and lesbian issues, though the Catholic priestly abuse scandal also pops up, as does the two-dimensional rigidity of JPII on this and other matters sexual. The indecency trial in Britain of Lady Chatterley's publisher certainly was removed from the subject of the book. Briefly looks at modern Orthodoxy, where even Greece, NATO member, etc., just isn’t as “advanced” as most of the West.
Chapter 20: A story without an end. Mac muses as to whether certain of the more modern matters of sexuality may become like usury. Citing C.S. Lewis in “Mere Christianity,” he notes that nobody but the most extreme sectarians within Christianity today hold biblical views of usury.
==
Per all of the above, this is one of those books where I'll suggest specific authorial and editorial moves that could have made it better.
1. Slice carefully here and there what would amount to 30-35 pages of the most extraneous material.
2. Expand by about 50 pages. One? What has been the modern take on sexuality issues of the Miaphysites/Oriental Orthodox and Churches of the East? Two? Has the agreement to allow married Episcopal/Anglican priests in Rome (following on Uniates) led to similar thought about doing this with other hierarchical churches, like Lutheranism in Scandinavia? Are Lutheran clergy there interested? That's just off the top of my head.
December 20, 2024
Overall, it is a very impressive book. My main issue is how miserably British/US-centric it is. I do understand that the British brand of Christianity was and is influential because of colonialism and its aftermath. But there is a limit to how many divagations on British history can it justify. I'm upset about how little time is dedicated to relationship to sex ,for example, in Armenian and Ethiopian churches ( since those are among oldest christian communities developing under very different circumstances) as well as Brazil and Mexico (countries with second and third the largest Christian population). But instead we are stuck with quirky anecdotes about Brits as well as only somehow relevant crash course on US politics. Again, I understand that much of Christianity circles back to UK or US and that it's impossible to do justice to all of the Christians, but each time I get excited about a mention of non-western-European Churches, after a few paragraphs we circle back to Brits/US which is such a shame. With all of that said, the parts of the book not dwelling on the nations mentioned above were great and extremely insightful.
July 10, 2025
I'm afraid that this is going to become a standard book in current cultural polemics.
MacCulloch sets out to prove that there is no single Christian theology of sex, only various contradictory and competing theologies that have been shaped by culture and natural law over the years. In showing that Christian attitudes towards sex have have shifted between negativity and positivity (a well known fact to any student of church history), he makes his case. But to destabilize Christian consistency on heterosexual and (typically) monogamous marriage as the ideal location for sexual activity, his documentation is not in support.
MacCulloch's strongest attempted case is where he attempts to argue the biblical data may not be as firm as conservatives assume. Here he ends up grasping at minority interpretations without acknowledging them as such. Perhaps oddest was his claim that הגדיל somehow implies David had an erection/ejaculation (and thus a sexual encounter with Jonathan), against context and any linguistic evidence. He tended to toss out what seemed like any possible interpretation that could have a sexual connotation, regardless of whether it was plausible.
His snide disdain for Christianity, at least of a traditional kind, came through in various unnecessary and unsubstantiated comments, such as claiming that Christians have tried to hide the link between Jesus and Joshua's names by bringing them into English through different languages (nevermind that it should be well known that Jesus and Joshua are the same name in Hebrew).
Once MacCulloch gets out of the biblical studies section and into history, it is a serviceable history of Christian attitudes toward sex and marriage down through the years. But it is filled with so many digressions, one gets the feeling that we are no longer discussing the topic of sex and Christianity at many points. This may just reflect the fact that he doesn't have as much story to tell that hasn't been told before. I was basically already familiar with the broad contours of this doctrinal and practical history.
Have you never heard of how Christians have thought of sexuality through the years? I suppose you'll learn the big picture. Just be aware that MacCulloch lets his antipathy lead him into some less than stellar argumentation that really won't hold up under serious scrutiny.
MacCulloch sets out to prove that there is no single Christian theology of sex, only various contradictory and competing theologies that have been shaped by culture and natural law over the years. In showing that Christian attitudes towards sex have have shifted between negativity and positivity (a well known fact to any student of church history), he makes his case. But to destabilize Christian consistency on heterosexual and (typically) monogamous marriage as the ideal location for sexual activity, his documentation is not in support.
MacCulloch's strongest attempted case is where he attempts to argue the biblical data may not be as firm as conservatives assume. Here he ends up grasping at minority interpretations without acknowledging them as such. Perhaps oddest was his claim that הגדיל somehow implies David had an erection/ejaculation (and thus a sexual encounter with Jonathan), against context and any linguistic evidence. He tended to toss out what seemed like any possible interpretation that could have a sexual connotation, regardless of whether it was plausible.
His snide disdain for Christianity, at least of a traditional kind, came through in various unnecessary and unsubstantiated comments, such as claiming that Christians have tried to hide the link between Jesus and Joshua's names by bringing them into English through different languages (nevermind that it should be well known that Jesus and Joshua are the same name in Hebrew).
Once MacCulloch gets out of the biblical studies section and into history, it is a serviceable history of Christian attitudes toward sex and marriage down through the years. But it is filled with so many digressions, one gets the feeling that we are no longer discussing the topic of sex and Christianity at many points. This may just reflect the fact that he doesn't have as much story to tell that hasn't been told before. I was basically already familiar with the broad contours of this doctrinal and practical history.
Have you never heard of how Christians have thought of sexuality through the years? I suppose you'll learn the big picture. Just be aware that MacCulloch lets his antipathy lead him into some less than stellar argumentation that really won't hold up under serious scrutiny.
November 13, 2025
Why is religion so often concerned with sex and in policing the lives of both worshippers and others? MacCullough's "Lower Than Angels: A History of Sex and Christianity" attempts to answer this by looking at history. Beginning with detailed examinations of Christianity's roots in both Judaism and the Hellenic world of the Greeks and later the Romans, he explores the contradictions within and between these different cultures.
For example, in early Judaism, polygyny (one man having several wives) was common but same sex relationships were condemned. While in the Greek world, monogamous marriage was promoted and certain manifestations of same sex behaviour were common and accepted. As it developed, Christianity gradually began to insist on monogamy while, like some ancient Jewish texts, condemning same sex relationships. As a "religion of the book", Christian scholars were faced (and in many ways continue to be faced) with the problem of how to reconcile ancient texts with the new emerging theologies. Over time, leaders of the various factions under the Christian umbrella had to decide which texts would be accepted as Biblical and how those texts would be translated.
Covering 3,000 years, the author looks at the various schisms and splits that have occurred (and continue to occur), which eventually led to three major forms of the faith: Roman Catholic, Eastern Orthodox and Protestant. And he looks at the various disagreements within each of these three forms. For example, these include the fault line between fundamentalists and liberals in the Protestant tradition, the tensions between conservative Vatican officials and Catholics who have aligned themselves with left-wing and Socialist movements, the current dispute between the Russian Orthodox church and the Ukrainian church.
Along the way, we discover that at one time Catholic clergy (including bishops and popes) were often married and had children, that the notion of Original Sin was an invention of St Augustine, that Calvinism owes its theory of predestination to the Catholic Augustine (who, despite or perhaps because of his youthful promiscuity, was down on sex), that Martin Luther was sympathetic towards polygyny, that African and Asian condemnations of homosexuality were introduced by Western Christian invaders and missionaries who in the process destroyed native cultures and faiths. The author also looks in some detail at same sex institutions such as monasteries and convents, examining how at one time monks and nuns would share the same spaces until concerns about temptations of the flesh led to them becoming separated.
He looks in detail at the role of Women in the various Christian denominations and how that has changed over time. He looks at the role stories about Eve, Virgin Mary and Mary Magdalene have influenced Christian ideas about women. He also explores the way that at various times and places women themselves have challenged religious misogyny and sexism. He shows the many different ways that marriage has manifested itself over the centuries and the different responses to the ending of marriage, whether that be by divorce, annulment or death, including the acceptability or otherwise of people entering a second or third marriage. We discover that the role of sexual relationships within marriage have also changed over time.
He also writes about the relationship between different manifestations of Christianity and what we now call homosexuality (a word that was only invented in the 19th century). He also examines the challenges that what we now call transgender and non-binary identities have for the churches now as well as past challenges (such as when white Europeans came across the Native American concept of Two Spirit People).
He also looks at the role of the Renaissance and the Enlightenment in changing Christian attitudes to sex and sexuality and the changes faith groups made in response. He also looks at the Reformation which challenged Catholic hegemony and the Counter Reformation during which Catholicism changed in response to Protestant challenges. He ends with looking at the latter half of the 20th century and the early years of the 21st.
While acknowledging the ground-breaking work of earlier writers such as John Boswell ("Christianity, Social Tolerance and Homosexuality") and Michel Foucault ("History of Sexuality") among others, he also shows how he believes these works, while important, are also flawed. Having read both Boswell and Foucault, I believe MacCulloch gets the balance right in his assessment of what is helpful in these works and what they got wrong. Indeed, without Boswell, I doubt it would have been possible for MacCulloch to produce this work.
As a gay Catholic, I found this lengthy, well-researched and readable book to be one of the best, if not the best, work I have read on the subject. I also believe that it has something to say to us all, whether we be people of faith or atheists
For example, in early Judaism, polygyny (one man having several wives) was common but same sex relationships were condemned. While in the Greek world, monogamous marriage was promoted and certain manifestations of same sex behaviour were common and accepted. As it developed, Christianity gradually began to insist on monogamy while, like some ancient Jewish texts, condemning same sex relationships. As a "religion of the book", Christian scholars were faced (and in many ways continue to be faced) with the problem of how to reconcile ancient texts with the new emerging theologies. Over time, leaders of the various factions under the Christian umbrella had to decide which texts would be accepted as Biblical and how those texts would be translated.
Covering 3,000 years, the author looks at the various schisms and splits that have occurred (and continue to occur), which eventually led to three major forms of the faith: Roman Catholic, Eastern Orthodox and Protestant. And he looks at the various disagreements within each of these three forms. For example, these include the fault line between fundamentalists and liberals in the Protestant tradition, the tensions between conservative Vatican officials and Catholics who have aligned themselves with left-wing and Socialist movements, the current dispute between the Russian Orthodox church and the Ukrainian church.
Along the way, we discover that at one time Catholic clergy (including bishops and popes) were often married and had children, that the notion of Original Sin was an invention of St Augustine, that Calvinism owes its theory of predestination to the Catholic Augustine (who, despite or perhaps because of his youthful promiscuity, was down on sex), that Martin Luther was sympathetic towards polygyny, that African and Asian condemnations of homosexuality were introduced by Western Christian invaders and missionaries who in the process destroyed native cultures and faiths. The author also looks in some detail at same sex institutions such as monasteries and convents, examining how at one time monks and nuns would share the same spaces until concerns about temptations of the flesh led to them becoming separated.
He looks in detail at the role of Women in the various Christian denominations and how that has changed over time. He looks at the role stories about Eve, Virgin Mary and Mary Magdalene have influenced Christian ideas about women. He also explores the way that at various times and places women themselves have challenged religious misogyny and sexism. He shows the many different ways that marriage has manifested itself over the centuries and the different responses to the ending of marriage, whether that be by divorce, annulment or death, including the acceptability or otherwise of people entering a second or third marriage. We discover that the role of sexual relationships within marriage have also changed over time.
He also writes about the relationship between different manifestations of Christianity and what we now call homosexuality (a word that was only invented in the 19th century). He also examines the challenges that what we now call transgender and non-binary identities have for the churches now as well as past challenges (such as when white Europeans came across the Native American concept of Two Spirit People).
He also looks at the role of the Renaissance and the Enlightenment in changing Christian attitudes to sex and sexuality and the changes faith groups made in response. He also looks at the Reformation which challenged Catholic hegemony and the Counter Reformation during which Catholicism changed in response to Protestant challenges. He ends with looking at the latter half of the 20th century and the early years of the 21st.
While acknowledging the ground-breaking work of earlier writers such as John Boswell ("Christianity, Social Tolerance and Homosexuality") and Michel Foucault ("History of Sexuality") among others, he also shows how he believes these works, while important, are also flawed. Having read both Boswell and Foucault, I believe MacCulloch gets the balance right in his assessment of what is helpful in these works and what they got wrong. Indeed, without Boswell, I doubt it would have been possible for MacCulloch to produce this work.
As a gay Catholic, I found this lengthy, well-researched and readable book to be one of the best, if not the best, work I have read on the subject. I also believe that it has something to say to us all, whether we be people of faith or atheists
May 31, 2025
Lower than the Angels by Diarmaid MacCulloch stands as a tour de force of historical scholarship that fundamentally reframes our understanding of Christianity's relationship with sexuality, marriage, and family. This Oxford historian has crafted a work that is both thrilling in its revelations and comprehensive in its scope—a rare achievement that will leave readers questioning everything they thought they knew about Christian tradition.
MacCulloch's central argument is nothing short of revolutionary: the valorization of marriage and family that we associate with Christianity is actually a relatively recent historical development. For the majority of Christian history, he demonstrates with meticulous research, all sexual activity was considered sinful—including marital relations aimed at procreation, and even unconscious sexual thoughts or dreams. This perspective transforms our understanding of early Christian culture and its lasting influence on Western civilization.
The book's brilliance lies in MacCulloch's ability to trace complex theological developments across centuries while maintaining narrative momentum that makes the material genuinely thrilling to read. His exploration of how celibate religious communities created "substitute families" offers fascinating insights into alternative forms of human connection and spiritual fulfillment. These religious arrangements, MacCulloch argues, provided models for intimate community that transcended biological kinship.
Perhaps most provocatively, MacCulloch draws illuminating parallels between historical Christian attitudes toward sexuality and contemporary church positions on LGBTQ+ relationships. His observation that current Anglican and Catholic compromises with gay couples echo ancient Christian approaches to sexuality demonstrates his gift for making historical patterns relevant to modern debates. This connection feels neither forced nor anachronistic but rather reveals deep continuities in Christian thought.
MacCulloch writes with the authority of decades spent studying Christian history, yet his prose remains accessible and engaging throughout. His ability to synthesize vast amounts of theological, social, and cultural evidence into coherent arguments while maintaining scholarly rigor is remarkable. The book never feels like dry academic exercise but rather like detective work that uncovers hidden truths about familiar institutions.
What makes Lower than the Angels particularly valuable is its challenge to conventional narratives about Christian "family values." MacCulloch shows that what many consider timeless Christian teachings are actually historically contingent developments that emerged from specific cultural and theological contexts. This perspective doesn't diminish Christianity but rather reveals its intellectual and spiritual complexity.
The book succeeds admirably as both specialist scholarship and general interest reading. MacCulloch has produced a work that will be essential for historians of Christianity while remaining engaging for anyone curious about how religious traditions develop and change over time.
Lower than the Angels is a remarkable achievement—a book that combines scholarly excellence with genuine readability, offering insights that will reshape understanding of Christian history for years to come. MacCulloch has given us a masterpiece of historical writing that illuminates the past while speaking directly to present concerns.
MacCulloch's central argument is nothing short of revolutionary: the valorization of marriage and family that we associate with Christianity is actually a relatively recent historical development. For the majority of Christian history, he demonstrates with meticulous research, all sexual activity was considered sinful—including marital relations aimed at procreation, and even unconscious sexual thoughts or dreams. This perspective transforms our understanding of early Christian culture and its lasting influence on Western civilization.
The book's brilliance lies in MacCulloch's ability to trace complex theological developments across centuries while maintaining narrative momentum that makes the material genuinely thrilling to read. His exploration of how celibate religious communities created "substitute families" offers fascinating insights into alternative forms of human connection and spiritual fulfillment. These religious arrangements, MacCulloch argues, provided models for intimate community that transcended biological kinship.
Perhaps most provocatively, MacCulloch draws illuminating parallels between historical Christian attitudes toward sexuality and contemporary church positions on LGBTQ+ relationships. His observation that current Anglican and Catholic compromises with gay couples echo ancient Christian approaches to sexuality demonstrates his gift for making historical patterns relevant to modern debates. This connection feels neither forced nor anachronistic but rather reveals deep continuities in Christian thought.
MacCulloch writes with the authority of decades spent studying Christian history, yet his prose remains accessible and engaging throughout. His ability to synthesize vast amounts of theological, social, and cultural evidence into coherent arguments while maintaining scholarly rigor is remarkable. The book never feels like dry academic exercise but rather like detective work that uncovers hidden truths about familiar institutions.
What makes Lower than the Angels particularly valuable is its challenge to conventional narratives about Christian "family values." MacCulloch shows that what many consider timeless Christian teachings are actually historically contingent developments that emerged from specific cultural and theological contexts. This perspective doesn't diminish Christianity but rather reveals its intellectual and spiritual complexity.
The book succeeds admirably as both specialist scholarship and general interest reading. MacCulloch has produced a work that will be essential for historians of Christianity while remaining engaging for anyone curious about how religious traditions develop and change over time.
Lower than the Angels is a remarkable achievement—a book that combines scholarly excellence with genuine readability, offering insights that will reshape understanding of Christian history for years to come. MacCulloch has given us a masterpiece of historical writing that illuminates the past while speaking directly to present concerns.
September 14, 2025
An eye-opening book that traces the history of Christianity from its early beginnings in Jewish lands, through the medieval period, and shows how views on sex, gender, and family have continually evolved to fit new customs and realities.
It didn’t give me new perspectives—quite the opposite. It only reinforced my view that there are many flaws, contradictions, and hypocrisies that have existed throughout Christian history, much like in other major religions including Islam and Hinduism. That’s no surprise: anything created and governed by human beings follows the same patterns.
As much as I dislike religion, I don’t think it is more evil than governments. Both seek to establish rules and manipulate people. That urge is part of human behaviour: as long as there are pies to share and power to take.
One interesting point the book makes is that there is no single “theology of sex” in Christianity—there have always been multiple versions. Jesus himself never spoke about homosexuality or polygamy. Yet today, many Christians assume these are coherent teachings, when in fact the model of monogamy comes more from Greco-Roman influence than from Jesus. That’s why polygamy remained common in parts of African Christianity well into modern times, and why Indian Christians often blended their practices with Hindu traditions, treating Jesus in ways similar to a divine figure among other gods.
Christianity is often seen as a symbol of “Western” culture, when in fact it was a Mediterranean invention. As he puts it, “Mediterranean Christians are Hellenised Jews”—and I thought that could not be better put. It demonstrates how the faith’s Jewish roots were reshaped through Greek and Roman lenses long before it started shaping European mentality.
I also liked author’s analysis of structural flaws in Roman Catholicism—particularly clerical celibacy. For centuries, priests were forbidden to marry or have sexual relationships, which in many tragic cases led to child abuse. It’s an uncomfortable truth that must be taken more seriously.
Reading the book also reminded me of real stories I’ve come across. I once watched a documentary showing how many Filipina women were abandoned by Western visitors who treated them casually, leaving them with children they couldn’t raise alone; and because of Catholic faith, absorption was not an option. I also personally knew a Filipina woman—brilliant, kind, career-driven—who couldn’t divorce her husband simply because the law forbade it. I hope things will work out eventually for her.
Many human tragedies have been caused in the name of religion; but it’s not about some unique evil in Christianity; it’s about human nature itself—the need for hope, and the hunger for power.
It didn’t give me new perspectives—quite the opposite. It only reinforced my view that there are many flaws, contradictions, and hypocrisies that have existed throughout Christian history, much like in other major religions including Islam and Hinduism. That’s no surprise: anything created and governed by human beings follows the same patterns.
As much as I dislike religion, I don’t think it is more evil than governments. Both seek to establish rules and manipulate people. That urge is part of human behaviour: as long as there are pies to share and power to take.
One interesting point the book makes is that there is no single “theology of sex” in Christianity—there have always been multiple versions. Jesus himself never spoke about homosexuality or polygamy. Yet today, many Christians assume these are coherent teachings, when in fact the model of monogamy comes more from Greco-Roman influence than from Jesus. That’s why polygamy remained common in parts of African Christianity well into modern times, and why Indian Christians often blended their practices with Hindu traditions, treating Jesus in ways similar to a divine figure among other gods.
Christianity is often seen as a symbol of “Western” culture, when in fact it was a Mediterranean invention. As he puts it, “Mediterranean Christians are Hellenised Jews”—and I thought that could not be better put. It demonstrates how the faith’s Jewish roots were reshaped through Greek and Roman lenses long before it started shaping European mentality.
I also liked author’s analysis of structural flaws in Roman Catholicism—particularly clerical celibacy. For centuries, priests were forbidden to marry or have sexual relationships, which in many tragic cases led to child abuse. It’s an uncomfortable truth that must be taken more seriously.
Reading the book also reminded me of real stories I’ve come across. I once watched a documentary showing how many Filipina women were abandoned by Western visitors who treated them casually, leaving them with children they couldn’t raise alone; and because of Catholic faith, absorption was not an option. I also personally knew a Filipina woman—brilliant, kind, career-driven—who couldn’t divorce her husband simply because the law forbade it. I hope things will work out eventually for her.
Many human tragedies have been caused in the name of religion; but it’s not about some unique evil in Christianity; it’s about human nature itself—the need for hope, and the hunger for power.
March 16, 2025
In many ways Lower than the Angels is a companion volume and follow up to MacCulloch's massive History of Christianity and his shorter Silence: A Christian History. Much of the same ground is covered although the focus in this work (obviously) is the history of Christianity and sex. Sex here mostly means a physical act of love making between two people (though masturbation gets a look in) although at times it also refers to gender, so the role of women in the church has a minor part. This does not do justice to the topic and prolongs the book, which feels a little too long.
MacCulloch takes us through 2000 years of Christianity and sex. He does not have time to do justice to the Biblical texts on the subject (which some Christians would treat as the most important topic) and unfortunately has used as his sources those on the liberal extreme of the church. This leads to extremely questionable assertions that the writer of 1 Timothy believes that women would achieve salvation through bearing children (an immensely difficult verse that probably doesn't mean that) and that Jesus may have been born of rape - citing a PhD thesis that has not gained scholarly approval. It is also one thing to suggest that some Jews believed that YHWH had a consort, and another to suggest that, prior to Josiah, the two together were part of the Temple cult. All this helps MacCulloch undermine evangelical approaches to sex from the outset.
The book gets better as we travel through history. I have been introduced to unfamiliar terminology and ideas. I still have no idea what intercrural sex is because I, lacking the folly and courage, decided not to google it. Apparently according to the excellent record keeping in fifteenth century Florence, half of all young men were engaged in some form of sexual activity with other men. And as for the Eighteenth century club devoted to masturbation, which included at least one bishop...
All this is entertaining and informative (and never prurient, although occasionally a little sneering). MacCulloch's thesis is, what most informed readers will already know, that there is no one template for Christian marriage, nor an unchanging theology of sex. Different moral panics set in at different times and often for opportune reasons. I was less convinced by the idea that negative views about same-sex relations globally stem entirely from Western, Christian, influence. A topic as personal and conflicted about sex will have many reasons for emotive responses and will be very culturally specific. I am also left wondering whether there is any distinctive Christian view of sex, or whether MacCulloch believes that there can be.
MacCulloch takes us through 2000 years of Christianity and sex. He does not have time to do justice to the Biblical texts on the subject (which some Christians would treat as the most important topic) and unfortunately has used as his sources those on the liberal extreme of the church. This leads to extremely questionable assertions that the writer of 1 Timothy believes that women would achieve salvation through bearing children (an immensely difficult verse that probably doesn't mean that) and that Jesus may have been born of rape - citing a PhD thesis that has not gained scholarly approval. It is also one thing to suggest that some Jews believed that YHWH had a consort, and another to suggest that, prior to Josiah, the two together were part of the Temple cult. All this helps MacCulloch undermine evangelical approaches to sex from the outset.
The book gets better as we travel through history. I have been introduced to unfamiliar terminology and ideas. I still have no idea what intercrural sex is because I, lacking the folly and courage, decided not to google it. Apparently according to the excellent record keeping in fifteenth century Florence, half of all young men were engaged in some form of sexual activity with other men. And as for the Eighteenth century club devoted to masturbation, which included at least one bishop...
All this is entertaining and informative (and never prurient, although occasionally a little sneering). MacCulloch's thesis is, what most informed readers will already know, that there is no one template for Christian marriage, nor an unchanging theology of sex. Different moral panics set in at different times and often for opportune reasons. I was less convinced by the idea that negative views about same-sex relations globally stem entirely from Western, Christian, influence. A topic as personal and conflicted about sex will have many reasons for emotive responses and will be very culturally specific. I am also left wondering whether there is any distinctive Christian view of sex, or whether MacCulloch believes that there can be.
March 20, 2025
The book provides a compelling and relatively comprehensive exploration of the relationship between Christianity and sexuality, as indicated by its title. However, the title may appear somewhat misleading or sensationalized, as the book, from my perspective, does not primarily focus on "sex" in the strict sense. While the topic of sex is indeed addressed partially, the primary emphasis seems to be on gender roles, as well as the conceptualization and regulation of marriage within Christian traditions. (which is great in its own right, just title is a bit off to be honest)
One of the book’s main weaknesses lies in its extensive coverage of broader Christian history, including broad discussions on the Bible, Hellenistic Judaism, the Reformation, and monasticism in England and Ireland. While these sections are well-written and informative, they do not necessarily align with the expectations of a reader seeking a focused analysis of Christianity’s relationship with sexuality. Especially, for readers who are already somewhat knowledgable of those topics. (keep in mind, that the book's potential audience is people who've probably already read about biblical history, early christiniaty, the reformation etc.). Conversely, for those interested in a general history of Christianity, the book remains too limited in scope. As a result, the work struggles to find a balance between offering historical background and maintaining a concentrated discussion on its core theme. A more rigorous focus on Christianity’s perspectives on sexuality would have allowed for a more concise and thematically coherent text. (probably cutting the book in half)
For instance, the book’s treatment of twentieth-century history, while offering a superficial overview of Western Catholicism during the pontificate of John Paul II — touching on its anti-communist and anti-liberationist rhetoric, clerical abuse scandals, and the Church’s problematic stance on homosexuality, AIDS, and contraception — fails to engage with John Paul II’s influential theology of the body. A more selective approach, such as reducing the coverage of English monasticism (just as an example), could have made room for a deeper examination of modern theological discussions on sexuality. This would have enhanced the book’s analytical depth and strengthened its engagement with contemporary debates.
One of the book’s main weaknesses lies in its extensive coverage of broader Christian history, including broad discussions on the Bible, Hellenistic Judaism, the Reformation, and monasticism in England and Ireland. While these sections are well-written and informative, they do not necessarily align with the expectations of a reader seeking a focused analysis of Christianity’s relationship with sexuality. Especially, for readers who are already somewhat knowledgable of those topics. (keep in mind, that the book's potential audience is people who've probably already read about biblical history, early christiniaty, the reformation etc.). Conversely, for those interested in a general history of Christianity, the book remains too limited in scope. As a result, the work struggles to find a balance between offering historical background and maintaining a concentrated discussion on its core theme. A more rigorous focus on Christianity’s perspectives on sexuality would have allowed for a more concise and thematically coherent text. (probably cutting the book in half)
For instance, the book’s treatment of twentieth-century history, while offering a superficial overview of Western Catholicism during the pontificate of John Paul II — touching on its anti-communist and anti-liberationist rhetoric, clerical abuse scandals, and the Church’s problematic stance on homosexuality, AIDS, and contraception — fails to engage with John Paul II’s influential theology of the body. A more selective approach, such as reducing the coverage of English monasticism (just as an example), could have made room for a deeper examination of modern theological discussions on sexuality. This would have enhanced the book’s analytical depth and strengthened its engagement with contemporary debates.
May 22, 2025
Diarmiad MacCulloch’s “Lower than the Angels” is a mesmerizing academic work that studiously captures the history of sex and Christianity. Before picking up this 800page tome, however, one needs to keep in mind that MacCulloch is a formidable historian who unpacks the world as it existed over the centuries and doesn’t address modern sexual issues (contraception, gay rights, etc.) until the last chapter. Many writers view Christian history through the lens of contemporary issues. Homosexuality, as understood today, didn’t exist at the time. Gender wars happened at home, not in public life.
The bulk of the book sorts out the tension between monastic life that exalts celibacy vs. marriage, which is the only allowable way people could morally engage in sex, only for procreation. It is fascinating to learn that for centuries chastity was viewed as morally superior to marriage. Men who married were looked down upon as people who can’t control themselves. Eventually marriage became esteemed, and the debates that went into that happening are edifying. MacCulloch makes clear that today’s traditional” view of marriage does not reflect the reality of Christian history. And keep in mind polygamy existed, and it would have been even more prevalent if it wasn’t exceedingly expensive to support multiple wives. The Old Testament doesn’t judge it.
The book’s strength is also a weakness. I’m in awe of the academic prowess that went into research and analysis, but honestly, the massive coverage, basically covering the same information, became tedious when stretched out over so many pages. I just kept in mind that the meticulous indulgences in minutia led me to trust the points MacCulloch was making. The last section’s discussion of contemporary issues is a worthwhile read, largely because we now have a better understanding of how Christianity has arrived at its viewpoints (even as I disagree with them), and how best to address religionists when debating a topic like gay rights. “Lower than the Angels” is an important book.
The bulk of the book sorts out the tension between monastic life that exalts celibacy vs. marriage, which is the only allowable way people could morally engage in sex, only for procreation. It is fascinating to learn that for centuries chastity was viewed as morally superior to marriage. Men who married were looked down upon as people who can’t control themselves. Eventually marriage became esteemed, and the debates that went into that happening are edifying. MacCulloch makes clear that today’s traditional” view of marriage does not reflect the reality of Christian history. And keep in mind polygamy existed, and it would have been even more prevalent if it wasn’t exceedingly expensive to support multiple wives. The Old Testament doesn’t judge it.
The book’s strength is also a weakness. I’m in awe of the academic prowess that went into research and analysis, but honestly, the massive coverage, basically covering the same information, became tedious when stretched out over so many pages. I just kept in mind that the meticulous indulgences in minutia led me to trust the points MacCulloch was making. The last section’s discussion of contemporary issues is a worthwhile read, largely because we now have a better understanding of how Christianity has arrived at its viewpoints (even as I disagree with them), and how best to address religionists when debating a topic like gay rights. “Lower than the Angels” is an important book.
October 30, 2024
My goodness! This is a real tour de force with MacCulloch's scholarship and research clearly visible as he takes us on a journey of circa 3000 years to explore a history of sex and Christianity. It's interesting his title calls it 'A History...' and not 'The History...' recognising that no view of this time period can be the final word.
I would recommend reading the last chapter first, Unusual, but in my opinion, I think this will help any reader navigate the book as it clearly lays out the ground, the pitfalls and the scope. I listened to it on Audible, so that might make a difference to how I would approach reading it.
The prose is straightforward, with terms explained, and accessible to the lay reader as much as to the theologian. It is not prurient and is as objective and clearcut as possible. MacCulloch has a strong focus on women, their role in the C/church and attitudes to their sexuality over the period of study. This is unusual but, of course, very important and welcome.
It's a useful reminder that laws, social mores, guidelines, throughout history have been based on men's views, men's expectations, and how such laws etc., can make their lives better at the expense of women (something we see today in Afghanistan - just this week women have been forbidden from speaking). Placing these diktats within a religious ideology merely seeks to place responsibility elsewhere - MacCulloch points out where such decisions and diktats fall short of any biblical evidence.
An excellent book.
I would recommend reading the last chapter first, Unusual, but in my opinion, I think this will help any reader navigate the book as it clearly lays out the ground, the pitfalls and the scope. I listened to it on Audible, so that might make a difference to how I would approach reading it.
The prose is straightforward, with terms explained, and accessible to the lay reader as much as to the theologian. It is not prurient and is as objective and clearcut as possible. MacCulloch has a strong focus on women, their role in the C/church and attitudes to their sexuality over the period of study. This is unusual but, of course, very important and welcome.
It's a useful reminder that laws, social mores, guidelines, throughout history have been based on men's views, men's expectations, and how such laws etc., can make their lives better at the expense of women (something we see today in Afghanistan - just this week women have been forbidden from speaking). Placing these diktats within a religious ideology merely seeks to place responsibility elsewhere - MacCulloch points out where such decisions and diktats fall short of any biblical evidence.
An excellent book.
August 1, 2025
I am NEVER going to shut up about this book.
Relevant, entertaining, and varied, it’s easily one of the most readable books I’ve ever read— as jam packed with historical information as it is with the author’s wit. It functions mostly as a history of Christianity through the lens of sex/gender/marriage. However, MacCulloch ends up telling the whole story of the Christian West, in all its bureaucratic development, which has implications far beyond sex. What does the church feel it can legislate? How does a religion which was founded on rejection of power acclimate to gaining power? How have the Bible and church tradition been interpreted through the eras? Seriously, anyone who’s ever asked why churches are so messed up about sex HAS to read this.
Highlights include:
-The author’s clear distaste for St. Jerome
-An unambiguous message that misogyny has always stifled church communities
-Proper rebuttals for when conservative relatives talk about ‘the traditional family being under attack’ (with literally hundreds of citations)
-Recognition of homosexuality and gender fluidity throughout history, treated with scholarly realism (as opposed to John Boswell’s work, which—though groundbreaking for its time and likewise a fascinating read— was perhaps overambitious in its declarations)
-The whole chapter on the Gregorian reforms and creation of the medieval church. I mean. Wow.
-Freemason sex clubs??????
I’d give this 6 stars if I could. Now I need to contrive some way to meet Diarmaid MacCulloch and tell him how much I enjoyed this, and also, can he tell me more??
Relevant, entertaining, and varied, it’s easily one of the most readable books I’ve ever read— as jam packed with historical information as it is with the author’s wit. It functions mostly as a history of Christianity through the lens of sex/gender/marriage. However, MacCulloch ends up telling the whole story of the Christian West, in all its bureaucratic development, which has implications far beyond sex. What does the church feel it can legislate? How does a religion which was founded on rejection of power acclimate to gaining power? How have the Bible and church tradition been interpreted through the eras? Seriously, anyone who’s ever asked why churches are so messed up about sex HAS to read this.
Highlights include:
-The author’s clear distaste for St. Jerome
-An unambiguous message that misogyny has always stifled church communities
-Proper rebuttals for when conservative relatives talk about ‘the traditional family being under attack’ (with literally hundreds of citations)
-Recognition of homosexuality and gender fluidity throughout history, treated with scholarly realism (as opposed to John Boswell’s work, which—though groundbreaking for its time and likewise a fascinating read— was perhaps overambitious in its declarations)
-The whole chapter on the Gregorian reforms and creation of the medieval church. I mean. Wow.
-Freemason sex clubs??????
I’d give this 6 stars if I could. Now I need to contrive some way to meet Diarmaid MacCulloch and tell him how much I enjoyed this, and also, can he tell me more??
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