Still deciding if I’m not rating this book, or I am actually rating it 0 stars.
I read this book because an evangelical friend recommended Rosaria Champagne Butterfield to me and I felt obligated to at least try to read a perspective that is in almost all ways diametrically opposed to mine. In some sense it was a good thing I read this, if only to recognize that evangelical homophobia has fostered far more sophisticated arguments to condemn queer people (particularly queer Christians) than in previous decades and one should not underestimate their ability to start reversing progress made on these issues. I'm not that interested in engaging in the whole ‘culture wars’ discourse and I do think it is more often a source of distraction from the core theological issues of the Christian faith (as I see it) as well as from the primary political issues of 21st century life (but I risk being a reductionist here so I should be careful) but this is actually quite serious.
So Butterfield was a so-called ‘leftist’ professor teaching feminist and queer literary theory, and was in a monogamous lesbian relationship while she was researching the conservative Christian right. Her story is that for the most part she encountered really hateful Christians who said fairly terrible things to her, which is precisely what she went out looking for as a feminist academic trying to understand the Christian right. But she encountered one man, a Presbyterian pastor I think, who was different. He was patient, answered her questions, and didn’t treat her like a project, did not even try to convert her but he and his wife showed her hospitality and answered her questions with great generosity. Eventually Butterfield read through the bible multiple times (as an academic) asking this pastor many questions, and eventually had a conversion experience, leaving behind her job in academia, her lesbian relationship, and getting married to a (different) male pastor and becoming a stay-at-home mom who homeschooled her children.
That biographical trajectory has caused a lot of students at evangelical colleges to protest Butterfield when she comes to speak on their campus; I think out of a concern that her testimony in some sense implies queer people need to become straight if they are to become Christians. Maybe because of this agitation, maybe before it (I do not know), Butterfield stated many times in very clear terms that she is against conversion therapy. This is why I think Butterfield as a phenomenon represents a move towards more sophisticated lines of reasoning that evangelicals are gravitating towards in asserting queerphobic positions. Christians of the left like Cheri DiNovo are still campaigning on issues like conversion therapy (which I think is very important, and I am happy Bill C-6 is making progress, though it does not have a wide enough definition of conversion therapy) but the argument has moved quite far past that. Butterfield says that as a queer feminist she always saw sexuality as very fluid so coming out of a lesbian relationship into a so-called opposite-sex pairing was not a matter of becoming ‘straight’. She disagrees with using terms like ‘sexual orientation’, which I will get into later. Butterfield says the ‘solution’ for people with ‘same-sex attraction’ (because it is a ‘problem’ to Christians like her), the solution is ‘Jesus’ – the solution is not becoming ‘straight’.
My sense is that her lesbianism was coming from a separatist feminist current, which I associate with second-wave feminism (as an ignorant person who has poor knowledge of feminist history). But Butterfield recognizes that it is not always like that for everyone. She knows people will have those so-called ‘same-sex’ attractions for the rest of their lives as Christians and sometimes are called to celibacy. She says she still wrestles with it daily, but also happens to have found a sexual relationship with a man, but recognizes some Christians will have to live the rest of their lives alone.
Obviously I am radically opposed to this. I think people can be queer and Christian at the same time. If it is a contradiction at all (I don’t see that it is), one must also recognize that every Christian life exists in a whole constellation of contradictions. The Christian canon itself is contradictory. Our whole tradition is a community extending over millennia and has an abundance of contradictions. It’s disingenuous to claim otherwise.
So now to get into Butterfield’s quibble over terms like ‘sexual orientation’, which I think raises very interesting points of interventions for queer-affirming Christians with respect to the new terrain this contestation has moved into. So Butterfield is against using terms like ‘gay Christian’. Her battle is not actually so much with Christians who are affirming of their own queer sexuality or identity. She takes the ‘immorality’ of ‘same-sex sexuality’ as a given. She’s actually debating other Christians who ‘struggle’ with ‘same-sex attraction’ who have committed to celibacy or abstinence from ‘same sex activity’ as Christians – these people who still refer to themselves as ‘gay Christians’ and that is who Butterfield is arguing with.
How does Butterfield approach this subject? Well by way of Foucault of course. She writes:
“Everyone loses when we define ourselves using categories that God does not. People who identify as heterosexual and homosexual have much to lose. In 2014, Michael Hannon wrote an absorbing essay in the journal First Things entitled “Against Heterosexuality: The Idea of Sexual Orientation is Artificial and Inhibits Christian Witness.” He begins his essay with Michel Foucault, the famous French historian of ideas who died of AIDS in 1980 [my comment: out of all the things to say about Foucault, wtf?]. Hannon writes:
‘Michel Foucault…details the pedigree of sexual orientation in his History of Sexuality. Whereas “sodomy” had long identified a class of actions, suddenly for the first time, in the second half of the nineteenth century, the term “homosexual” appeared alongside it. This European neologism was used in a way that would have struck previous generations as a plain category mistake, designating not actions, but people—and so also with its counterpart and foil “heterosexual”…with secular society rendering classical religious beliefs publicly illegitimate, pseudoscience stepped in and replaced religion as the moral foundation for venereal norms.’
Sexuality moved from verb (practice) to noun (people), and with this grammatical move, a new concept of humanity was born—the idea that we are oriented or framed by our sexual desires; that our differing sexual desires and different objects of desire made up separate species of people, and that self-representation and identity rooted now in sexual orientation, and not in the purposes of God for his image bearers. In Foucault’s words, “Homosexuality appeared as one of the forms of sexuality…when it was transposed from the practice of sodomy into a kind of interior androgyny, a hermaphrodism of the soul. The sodomite had been a temporary aberration; the homosexual was a new species” (emphasis mine). Prior to the nineteenth century category-invention of sexual orientation, no one’s sexual practice or sexual desire prescribed personhood or defined their personal identity.”
This is actually a very interesting move on Butterfield’s part because most evangelicals would not accept this premise. The standard liberal move is to say what Paul condemns in Romans and what the other writers of the pseudo-Pauline epistles write about is not homosexuality, because the category of ‘homosexuality’ was a 19th-century construction. And therefore one cannot simply transpose condemnation of same-sex activity from so many centuries ago onto modern ‘homosexual’ relationships in the 21st century. It is anachronistic to do so. Fascinatingly Butterfield is in effect accepting this premise to make her point that ‘sexual orientation’ (and its various types ‘homosexual’/’heterosexual’) are modern constructions and Christians should not accept them because they are somehow ‘false’ and they take away from the only true identity of the Christian which she claims is found in Christ alone. Butterfield’s point I suppose is that the sin is less ontological, it is not wrong to ‘be’ someone who has ‘same-sex attractions’ but it is wrong to act on those attractions. In other words being homosexual is not wrong (though she would argue Christians should not identify as ‘homosexual’) but what is wrong for her is gay sex lol. At least that is my reading of her view, but it does not adequately address the contextual gap between such long periods of time. What was Paul condemning? Context also does affect what those acts mean. The same act of ‘penetration’ in the context of consent and non-consent are two completely different things, and context matters.
Although, I am of the view that it doesn’t actually matter all that much theologically whether Paul would condemn homosexuality in the 21st century context. I don’t read the bible as an inerrant document, and I feel perfectly comfortable with saying Paul was wrong on a number of points.
I may have read Butterfield's comments on intersectionality and identity politics elsewhere, but she has a very cynical and uncharitable view of that sort of politics. I was reading interviews of members of the Combahee River Collective, a Black socialist feminist organization, which likely coined the term 'identity politics', and they comment on how the meaning of the term has changed quite a bit over the decades, such that it becomes a target of caricature among the Right. And I think Butterfield performs such a caricature of it as a turncoat reactionary.
Butterfield has a whole section on Romanticism, Rousseau, and Goethe. I believe Butterfield’s doctoral dissertation was on Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein, and so she mentions that Goethe’s Sorrows of Young Werther was among the books of Frankenstein’s monster’s collection of books, but that the creature perfectly exhibited all the failings of Rousseau’s belief in the original innocence of human beings, in childhood (in many ways that is also a part of the impulse found in the Christian gospels when Jesus says one must become like a child to enter the Kindom of God). Butterfield quotes the quasi-Marxist poet Randall Jarrell: “Rousseau was wrong: that man, when you knock his chains off, sets up the death camps.”
Goethe’s Werther novel was very big for me. I spent a whole week in Wetzlar and on my last evening there did a google-translated pdf walking tour of Wetzlar that stopped at all the famous sites Goethe mentions in his novel. It felt exhilarating to follow in Goethe’s steps and feel that young revolutionary fervour he possessed as a young Romanticist. The novel, apart from being among those that Napoleon was said to have kept with him during his military campaigns, it was also the novel that provoked a wave of copycat suicides. Somehow, Butterfield makes such a logical leap, implying one arrives at such nihilistic activity from this very epistemological failing of Romanticism, a world view where Butterfield claims “you know truth through the lens of your own personal experience and no overriding or objective opposition can challenge the primal wisdom of someone’s subjective frame of intelligibility.” I actually first encountered this mode of epistemology through the existentialism of Kierkegaard, but only later found out it was birthed from the Romanticist protest against the monstrous rationality that took the form of industrialization and the horrible atrocities and alienation that it arrived with, such as child labour and the miserable working conditions that it coerced the dispossessed masses into.
It’s interesting how Butterfield says that “Romanticism went beyond a solipsistic me-centered understanding of selfhood. Solipsism is the belief that only one’s own mind and its properties are sure to exist. Romanticism took this one step further to declare personal feelings and experiences the most reliable measure and means of discerning truth.”
Yet she makes no mention of the fact that Evangelicalism shared the common root of Pietism with Romanticism, and was vulnerable to that same precise self-absorption and individualism. Where the Gospel of Jesus was reduced to a vulgar notion of individual salvation and preservation and not about bringing Good News to the poor and establishing the Kingdom of God on earth as it is in heaven. The Puritans which Butterfield is so enamoured with formed an important basis for the individualist self-absorption of capitalist values that so plague our society today.
Yet Butterfield’s interest in the Puritans has stoked an interest in them myself. Butterfield mentions Puritans a lot in this book, including teaching Bunyan’s Pilgrim’s Progress in Sunday school. This was one other redeeming aspect of reading this book. I have two Christopher Hill books on my shelf at home: “Puritanism and Revolution” and “A Turbulent, Seditious and Factious People: John Bunyan and His Church” which I have been skimming through over the past two weeks. Hill (a British Marxist historian) points out fascinating radical positions Bunyan had with respect to the gentry and landowners, and how he continually condemned the rich and said they were going to hell. For all the disturbing things about the Puritans I think there’s a lot one might hold onto to use against those evangelicals who claim the Puritans as their own. One can see quite an overlap between the Puritans and communists, for better and/or for worse. This includes homophobia which has littered leftist history also.
I suppose the only other redeeming quality of this book was Butterfield’s assertions about the Christian duty to offer radical hospitality to others. A practice she said she honed during her time in queer communities saying: “The LGBT community values hospitality and applies it with skill, sacrifice, and integrity.”
Butterfield grew up in a liberal Catholic environment reading much of the bible metaphorically and was part of a Unitarian Universalist congregation before turning to a conservative Presbyterian congregation. I speculate it was the Puritans that drew her in. She was more a liberal than a leftist as I see it. I read some of her academic work on incest and sexual abuse in the family, and her form of feminism seemed very intimately connected with a type of second-wave separatist feminism that I don’t relate with very much, and despite her critiques of postmodernism (some of which I agree with) Butterfield still relies on postmodern theory in the formulation of her queerphobic interpretations of Christian scripture and tradition. I am, to be quite frank, puzzled at her conversion story, and I don’t think she spent enough time explaining why she feels compelled to read the bible as an inerrant document now. Either way, I try to keep my friends’ books close, and my enemies’ books closer, and I think I did so while reading this book. A terrible book to read during Pride month, but also important for understanding where the religious right is at right now.