Queer Theology: Beyond Apologetics

by Linn Marie Tonstad

What do Christianity and queerness have to do with each other? Can Christianity be queered? Queer Theology offers a readable introduction to a difficult debate. Summarizing the various apologetic arguments for the inclusion of queer people in Christianity, Tonstad moves beyond inclusion to argue for a queer theology that builds on the interconnection of theology with sex and money. Thoroughly grounded in queer theory as well as in Christian theology, Queer Theology grapples with the fundamental challenges of the body, sex, and death, as these are where queerness and Christianity find (and, maybe, lose) each other.

"This pacey, accessible introduction steers a course adroitly through queer theology's choppy waters without flattening out its complexities. Tonstad orients readers to theological and cultural markers they will recognize, and lucidly outlines some emerging developments in the field."
--Susannah Cornwall, Lecturer, University of Exeter, United Kingdom

"Because we cannot all enroll in Linn Marie Tonstad's Queer Theology seminar, we owe it to ourselves, and to the vitality of queer theology itself, to read--and re-read--this book so we can learn from the one of its best practitioners the radical art of queer theological truth-telling."
--Kent Brintnall, Associate Professor, University of North Carolina at Charlotte

"Linn Tonstad is the best queer theologian of her generation, and she has written a superb introduction to the field. Tonstad lucidly explicates, and she judges, pointing to the limitations of queer theological projects that are insufficiently intersectional in their analysis as well as the possibilities being unleashed by a younger generation of queer theologians who adamantly refuse heteropatriarchy, racism, colonialism, and capitalism--all the while taking Christian traditions seriously."
--Vincent Lloyd, Associate Professor, Villanova University

"In this brilliant burst of theological becoming, Linn Tonstad leads us beyond liberal apologetics for sexual difference. Queer Theology reveals something indispensable and yet irreducible to theology itself: arching between desire and death, theology here faces its deformations and unleashes its transformations. Vibrantly engaging her students as well as her theorists, the text queers the deep questions of Christianity."
--Catherine Keller, Professor, Drew University, The Theological School

"At last, a truly helpful introduction to a hotly contested notion: 'queer theology.' Tonstad clarifies in graceful prose the limitations, stakes, and pleasures of what could be queer in Christian theology. Timely and long overdue, this book will help students, queer theologians, and other theological adventurers recognize the far deeper challenges and possibilities that queer theologies beyond apology may offer to Christian understanding and justice-making efforts."
--Laurel C. Schneider, Professor, Vanderbilt University


Linn Marie Tonstad is Associate Professor of Systematic Theology at Yale Divinity School. She is the author of God and Difference (2016).

Genres: Theology, Queer, Religion, LGBT, Nonfiction, Christianity, Spirituality

159 pages, Paperback

First published July 26, 2018

Reviews

[Nick Wilson · Rating 3 out of 5]

I do not believe that Tonstad’s mission to make a readable introduction to queer theology was quite as nearly obtained as she thinks.
Don’t fool yourself. This is an academic subject. Addressed by an academic writer. In an academic book. She may have tried to make the ideas more “readable” — but she forgot to change her approach to writing. The language she uses is still very much that of the academy. The sentence structure is highly complex. And it reads very drily.
I did, however, enjoy parts of the book. It’s ironic, though, that the most enjoyable and engaging part is its middle chapter in which she summarizes and interacts with the work of Althaus-Reid — a powerhouse queer theologian who writes beautifully.
Would I read this again? No.
Would I recommend this to someone who is completely unfamiliar with queer theory/theology as an introductory text? Absolutely not!
Will I use carefully chosen parts of it as fodder for a presentation I’m giving to a local congregation? Yes, indeed.

[Jon Coutts · Rating 3 out of 5]

This is a concise and compelling primer on the intersection of queer theory and theology. Its chapter on apologetics both sums up LGBT arguments and distinguishes them clearly from Q. The book effectively challenges the disorders of hetero-normativity and of its supposed alternatives, unsettling readers for a rethink of long-held presuppositions about "nature" and "identity" and "God". Unfortunately, where Tonstad's Queer Theology goes beyond Judith Butler's Gender Trouble, its discussion of God is little more than suggestive, and it seems to posit hyper-individualized deconstruction as an end in itself. That said, I'm grateful for the book. Much to ponder.

[Jonny · Rating 4 out of 5]

"Queerness can never define an identity; it can only ever disturb one."--Lee Edelman

"Terrible is the fate of theologies from the margin when they want to be accepted by the center."--Marcella Althaus-Reid

Tonstad's text is a brief, but surprisingly thorough, overview of Queer Theology. She deconstructs apologetic arguments that seek to validate queerness, decimates statist arguments for institutionalizing it, and then intersects it with economics. Her materialist analysis is helpful and necessary. She then offers a brief overview of Marcella Althaus-Reid's Indecent Theology as a framework for queer theology. She succeeds in explaining queer theology--really a strange theology meant to disturb norms and binaries (which Christianity really is). Then she offers new paths for queer theology; including Blackpentecostalism and ecotheology. I appreciated her theological work on sin, death, Mary, and incarnation. I happened to agree with much of her carefully written theology and think it is a welcomed addition to people who need their faith disrupted. In a sense, she asks more questions than answers, especially toward the conclusion. I'll keep following her work. I left with many more books to read.

[Alex Strohschein · Rating 2 out of 5]

On the one hand, this is a good introduction to queer theology (Linn Marie Tonstad is much more readable than Marcella Althaus-Reid, one of the pioneers of queer theology who Tonstad spends considerable time explicating). On the other hand, queer theology is built upon an edifice that is wholly alien to orthodox Christianity. Of course, one would entirely expect queer theology to provide justification for itself but the arguments put forward by Tonstad are not convincing to me. I DO appreciate her deconstruction and critique of prevalent "apologetics" that seek to validate the inclusion of queer Christians into the Church; I occasionally found that Tonstad and I would both critique a "queer apologetic" but from different angles and these were insightful moments for me as I gained a better appreciation of the multiplicity found in queer theory and queer theology. For instance, an older argument for including homosexuals in the church was that they were "born this way" (the continuing quest for the elusive "gay gene") and that a good God that called His Creation "good" would not create men and women with a flawed or disordered sexuality; however, Tonstad suggests that while this can be a positive pastoral response to anguish over one's homosexuality, "it participates in two assumptions that many queer theorists would question: that gender and sexuality are the most authentic inwardness of a human being, and that sexuality, like gender, is born, not made" (p. 30).

But again, as a traditional evangelical, I typically found myself unconvinced, sometimes rolling my eyes, as when Tonstad states "Death follows birth, and most people who give birth are women" (p. 9) and "some people who have wombs aren't women and some women don't have wombs" (p. 35) or aghast, as when the author announces she has "students working on poetry, preaching, pornography...for queer theological purposes" (p. 128). Tonstad argues that the Ethiopian eunuch provides validation for "trans* and gender-nonconforming people" to be "included in the church" and that Jesus' discussion of different types of eunuchs in Matt 19:12 "at a minimum, suggests that gender or genital transformation (however one wishes to understand the results of gender confirmation surgery) is permissible - and might even be undertaken for God's sake" (p. 26). This seems like an creatively overenthusiastic interpretation of the biblical text - and this is where much of my disagreement with Tonstad ultimately lies; Scripture is stretched every which way (every which orientation) to accommodate every modern sexual more. Again, Tonstad recalls a tradition that interprets Jesus' pierced side on the cross as "a symbolic womb out of which the church is born. Christ's body is then both morphologically male (in that he was circumcised) and morphologically female, or at least maternal, in that he has a womb. As the scene with Thomas in the upper room suggests, Christ's glorified body retains its wounds. For some trans* people, whose bodies bear marks of transformation, Christ's glorified body meaningfully confirms the divine value of their bodies" (p. 34). This seems like an excessive overuse of the allegorical interpretation of the Bible (which was heavily critiqued during the Reformation) and Tonstad also notes that some queer and trans* people do NOT find this allegorical interpretation comforting!

Drawing inspiration from Paul's admonition in Romans 14 not to cause fellow believers to stumble, Tonstad argues:

"Are heterosexual Christians the stronger in faith? Then they must avoid causing their weaker, queer siblings to stumble by placing obstacles in their way - presumably, by insisting that queer people reach a standard of sexual behavior (celibacy) that heterosexual Christians themselves do not meet. Are queer Christians the stronger in faith, since they recognize that all is clean? Then they must allow their heterosexual siblings to restrict their own practices as they choose" (p. 38).

This ultimately seems to rely too much on one's own subjective sense of right and wrong and one wonders if the reasoning would thus allow John Stott, Laura Smit, or Mike Schmitz to insist queer Christians abide by traditional Christian teachings regarding sexuality since they themselves are celibate? Regardless, this pays no heed to Christian tradition that has consistently held that the Bible forbids same-sex sexual intimacy.

Lastly (and this is one of the parts that made me pause), Tonstad discusses Jesus' dire warning that any man who looks at a woman with lust has already committed adultery in his heart (an INTENSIFICATION of the OT teaching). Tonstad puts this in dialogue with conservative Christians (who she bluntly labels homophobic) who attempt to distinguish between same-sex desire and same-sex behavior, the "inclination" vs. the "act." She says this attempt to distinguish between the two, with the former being problematic but not, perhaps, sinful, while the latter being a clear sin is futile since Jesus himself does not make any such distinction. I would suggest that there is STILL a difference between innocuously admiring another's beauty and actively lusting after them in a craven gaze. I WOULD agree with Tonstad's remark that "churches invested in the distinction between the inclination and the act might have to admit that homosexuality and heterosexuality are equally sinful, so that the distinction between them is no longer where the boundaries of Christian sexual morality ought to be drawn" (p. 45). This is a good and sobering rebuke to orthodox believers who have denounced the speck of homosexual (or queer) sin without giving enough attention and repentance to the plank of heterosexual sin that is also rampant in churches.

Again, this is a fairly good introduction to queer theory and queer theology. The chapter on "apologetic strategies" for queer Christianity is very useful indeed. Other chapters explain Marcella Althaus-Reid's thought and project and focus on bodies, money, sex, and God.

[Jonathan Platter · Rating 4 out of 5]

Will likely be a strange read for many (that’s part of the point, I think), but it provides an engaging and clear introduction to a stream of modern theology. Chapter two, which discusses the various apologetic strategies for inclusion(s) of LGBTQIA in the church is admirable for its clarity and ability to concisely present arguments for and against. Tonstad’s own argument does not stand or fall on the success of any of those apologetic strategies, so on the whole her aim is to honestly present the arguments as they stand. She suggests that the whole project is misplaced, which for her is the launching point for the kind of “queer theology” she is introducing—that is, the way Marcella Althaus-Reid writes queer theology.

[Lance · Rating 4 out of 5]

As the title suggests, this book was about moving beyond apologetics, and while it briefly touched on the clobber passages, it cruised past them to move into a discussion of queerness being the framework for doing theology.

This book gave me a ton to think about. Because I’m so unfamiliar with academic queer theory, much of it was over my head, and I spent most of this book listening instead of interacting.

A very challenging read for me that was well worth it.

[Brooke Scott · Rating 5 out of 5]

This is a challenging & refreshing book that ultimately destabilizes & points beyond all that has been said before about queerness and faith. But It does this in a way that is quite delicious. I wouldn’t say I fully understood it (lol), but it is something that I will need to process & return to over & over.

[David · Rating 3 out of 5]

Who Should Read This Book - Readers interested in Christian theology who want to widen their reading to understand theologians from different contexts and perspectives.

What’s the Big Takeway - Having never read “queer theology” before, I’d have to say this entire book was certainly an introduction to new ideas.

And a Quote - “Queer theology is not about apologetics for the inclusion of sexual and gender minorities in Christianity, but about visions of sociopolitical transformation that alter practices of distinction harming gender and sexual minorities as well as many other minoritized populations, queer is a reasonably (in)adequate term to use” (2).

At the beginning of this year I made a list of different sorts of books I wanted to read to ensure I read books outside of my comfort zone. One topic I wanted to investigate was theology from LGBTQ perspectives. Of course, one book does not an investigation make. That said, this book is a good introduction to the subject, known as Queer theology” for people like me who are new to it.

The first chapter defines what queer theology is and puts it in the context of the history of sexual understanding in the west. A few things here set the tone for the book. Perhaps the big one is that there is a history of understanding of sexuality and it has changed:

“Just like every other aspect of human self-understanding and social organization, gender and sexuality have a history—both as a history that varies over time and culture, and as a history that varies in the importance gender and sexuality are given in understanding the self. We can illustrate such changes in evaluation briefly. . . the West has shifted from a one-sex to a two-sex model. For Aristotle, or Aquinas, women were defective men—they had less bodily heat, and so were not a fundamentally different gender, but a less well developed example of a single gender. Only later are men and women understood as two fundamentally different sexes—an understanding that is now again being challenged from a very different direction, the reduction of sex and gender to two and only two alternatives” (13).

I wonder how big just recognizing this point is. More traditional Christians argue that the way things are understood, by them today, is how things have always been. This is why they would claim the title “traditional.” Yet it doesn’t take much research to see that even this so-called traditional understanding has changed quite a lot and just might be more rooted in 1950s white America than larger tradition, let alone the Bible.

Speaking of the Bible, in the second chapter Tonstad goes through a host of apologetic strategies. These are the arguments theologians use to make the case for inclusion of LGBTQ persons as full members in Christian churches. But through this, she also points out that queer theology is not just about such defenses. It is more than just proving the worth of LGBTQ individuals. Yet, Tonstad recognizes most Christians do come to queer theology looking for these sorts of apologetics. Admittedly, that was probably part of my motivation. Most (all, prior to this) books I read on this subject have been about the question of what LGBTQ persons can do in churches. Can they be members? Pastors? Are they even able to be Christians?

If nothing else, Tonstad’s book is worth reading to show that the discussion and work of queer theologians is more than just this sort of apologetics. That said, this chapter includes some good quotes such as this one:

“Christianity is about a message of radical, boundary-destroying love. Christianity, rightly understood, is about the transgression of boundaries. Christians believe in a God whose love undoes every binary” (31).

The third chapter moves from theology into the area of “queer studies” and is a, by Tonstad’s own admission too brief and overly simplistic, introduction to this field. She writes, “Queer studies often operates with assumptions about gender and sexuality that are quite foreign to those outside the field. This chapter rehearses some of those assumptions—but laying them out is not an easy task” (48). One of the big questions she discusses here is the relationship of nature to nurture. But this very question is itself a product of our culture:

“The line between nature and culture, and the stability attributed to nature (vs the variability attributed to culture) are themselves both culturally drawn lines. That is, the idea that the body is the “real,” that exists “prior” to cultural inscription, so that gender simply comes to expression through inevitable effects of bodily, material determinants, is itself a cultural idea” (51)

In other words, our categories, such as nature and nurture, seem transparent and obvious to us. Tonstad’s argument (or I guess, queer studies’ argument) is that these very categories are learned. Pointing out that these binary divisions (nature vs. nurture and a host of others) are unable to capture all of reality helps begin the process of “denaturalization” (55) which is a key term in the field. The radical move here is that by saying our categories are learned, the argument is that no categories are natural (anti-essentialism). To apply this to sexual acts:

“It is widely recognized, ancient Greece, and Rome during the early centuries of the common era, had little difficulty with the idea of men having some form of sexual relationship with adolescent boys; the relevant distinction was not the gender of the sexual object but the social status of the “active” or insertive partner relative to that of the “passive” partner. An anti-essentialist lens clarifies that these same-sex relations are not what we think of as homosexuality, while a denaturalizing approach reminds us that neither our categories (gay, heterosexual, nonbinary, woman, etc.) nor ancient Greek or Roman categories (molles, tribades, malthakoi, and so on) are natural” (59).

Neither the way they categorized things 2,000 years ago nor the way we do today is simply natural. As Tonstad writes, “Put differently: the normative subject is a fiction, but it’s a destructive fiction that plays a role in the unjust distribution of social goods even though no one really is such a subject” (63). From this, Tonstad refers to one of the most famous definitions of “queer” as “an identity without essence” (63). Queerness is defined as distance from whatever the norm is. Tonstad talks about how this begs the question of whether queerness is more about questioning the current norm or creating a new one:

“Demonstrating inconsistency and incoherence is part of working for change, but such demonstration is not the end point of a process of social, or theological, transformation” (72).

To move to this sort of demonstration, Tonstad brings in Marcella Althaus-Reid (1952-2009) who was an influential voice in queer theology. Althaus-Reid argued that “The task of theology is to “deconstruct a moral order which is based on a heterosexual construction of reality, which organizes not only categories of approved social and divine interactions but of economic ones too’” (Quoted on 74). The fourth chapter in the book is a summary of some of Althaus-Reid’s key ideas. Althaus-Reid worked in a Marxist paradigm. What Marx said of philosophy is certainly how Althaus-Reid sees theology: “Philosophers have merely interpreted the world in various ways. The point is to change it” (quoted on 79).

Thus, queer theology includes a critique of capitalism. This certainly will not endear the project to those fearful of anything critical of the comfortable alliance of Christianity and Capitalism, but such persons probably are already opposed to queer theology in the first place. Queer theology is critical of how capitalism reduces all relationships to relationships between things, which is “commodity fetishism”:

“The way capitalism misrecognizes relationships between people is best illustrated, Marx thinks, by theology, which invents categories (sin, salvation) and actors (God, angels) to which it then attributes independent existence. Similarly, in capitalism, people make things: objects, computers, the value of oil, derivatives, the value of social media companies. People then attribute independent existence to relations between those things. Relations between people are then understood instead as relations between things—forces, objects, accounting structures—that lie outside and to some extent beyond the control of the relationships that actually shape them, sustain them, and make them possible. This is called commodity fetishism” (83).

The goal of queer theology, as we have already seen, is to ask how to make these dynamics visible and how to shift them. This “indecent theology” is in contrast to what Althaus-Reid calls “t-Theology”. T-theology desires to impose and keep in place the system of power by providing a grand narrative that supports it. Again, Althaus-Reid desires movement and disruption - “Thus, Althaus-Reid seeks movement and disruption. In a way, what we need is to recover the memory of the scandal in theology, and with a vengeance. This is the scandal of what T-Theology has carefully avoided: God amongst the Queer, and the Queer God present in Godself; God, as found in the complexity of the unruly sexualities and relationships of people; God, as present in the via rupta [the way of rupture] of previously unrecognised paths of praxis . . . The theological scandal is that bodies speak, and God speaks through them. . . . Queerness is something that belongs to God, and . . . people are divinely Queer by grace” (91).

This chapter ends with some examples of what this disruption could look like, which are admittedly uncomfortable. Along with this, chapter five points the way forward with some possible areas of future interest for queer theology in Christology, original sin, ecology, ecclesiology and others. At one point she writes she has students working on “poetry, preaching, pornography - to name just a few - for queer theological purposes” (127). This comment, along with some of the language for God in chapter four, is one are where I’d (at least) want more details and (at most) offer a negative critique. Pornography is toxic and often exploitive to women. I cannot imagine any way it has a place in a theological classroom. But I am reading this book, so I am at least a somewhat sympathetic listener and would be willing to hear what that phrase means.

Along with this, I am all for disrupting the status quo. But I also think there is a whole lot of value in the classical tradition. I would even argue there is a lot in the classical tradition - from the prophets, the words of Jesus, the early Christians and many others - that challenges the status quo today. My own critiques of capitalism, nationalism, materialism and such stem from diving deeper into the best of the Christian tradition and seeing how far the American church has gone. At one point Tonstad refers to Althaus-Reid talking on God as Trinity with language of “God as orgy”. Is that really better than speaking of God as a “self-giving relationship of Love” or more traditional Trinitarian language? Sure it is shocking, which maybe is the point. But some of the language seems to come close to replacing shock with substance.

Overall, I am glad I read this book. Obviously I am not on board with everything and there are a few areas that seem quite off to me. But I am trying to be a sympathetic listener and learner and I think the more we read books from other perspectives and learn from them, even if we do not agree, the better off we will all be.

[Jacob May · Rating 5 out of 5]

On the heels of her groundbreaking God and Difference, Tonstad’s Queer Theology further maps her perspective on the queer theological project and underscores why she is considered to be catalyzing the next wave of it.

The text’s opening sections provide a summary and evaluation of the various apologetic strategies proliferating in recent years affirming the inclusion of gay/lesbian people and same-sex relationships into the full life of the church. Applying Paul’s argument concerning Gentiles and food to the question of sexuality is among the most favorably evaluated. The negative reactions to various approaches start to reveal to the reader Tonstad’s commitment to both orthodoxy and queer theory. For example, the hypostatic union “queerly” breaking the human-divine binary assumes a dualism restricts God’s transcendence. On the other hand, “queering” Jesus’s pierced side as a “womb-wound” affixes biology to gender in a thoroughly unqueer fashion.

Tonstad’s survey of queer theory is helpful (as are her notes pointing to alternative chronologies), especially in its contrast to “liberal” gay-including politics and theologies. Her explicitly Marxist analysis connecting queerness with economics and decoloniality can serve as a useful intro for undergraduate-level readers and beyond.

This discussion sets the stage well for her next section’s interaction with the late Argentinian queer theologian Marcella Althaus-Reid. Tonstad succinctly distills the highlights of Althaus-Reid’s project, which oftentimes go in surprising and shocking directions (e.g. critical bisexuality and God as orgy). Questioning the radicality of representational theological strategies becomes an important theme as well.

The text ends with a forward-looking review of questions still being wrestled with in queer theory, especially those related to Christian themes. For example, to me, Brintnall’s and Bersani’s critiques of certain forms of sex positivity and a reintroduction of “sin” language to sexuality — which has reasonably been eschewed by queers for, at a minimum, political reasons — is resonant and necessary.

Anyone familiar or unfamiliar with Tonstad’s work will find this text to be a helpful introduction to both queer theology, in general, and her growing project, in particular. Plenty of questions still remain at the conclusion of this text. For one, I wish more room was available for Tonstad to explicate Althaus-Reid’s work. Additionally, I’m curious about how Tonstad’s thought is compatible with various other liberation and contextual theologies (e.g. indigenous, Black, and disability theologies). And I wonder how decolonial it can actually be as well. All of this goes to say that I look forward to Tonstad’s next project. Queer Theology is a must-read for anyone interested in staying abreast of this evolving field.

[Liv · Rating 5 out of 5]

when I read this book 2 years ago it felt like the be-all end-all of queer theology. this time around I found myself wanting more -- more substance, more radicalness, more queerness, inclusion, condemnation, skewering, criticality, engagement, content, exploration, questioning, etc. I still think this is an excellent book. I just think it's an excellent book to begin with, rather than end with. I am also decidedly less Christian than I was 2 years ago, so that probably was a factor in my "wanting more." This is not necessarily a bad thing.

[Brianna Daly · Rating 4 out of 5]

A realllyy academic read that feels not quite as accessible as Tonstad had hoped, but incredibly stimulating and informative. Introduced me to a lot of ideas I hadn’t heard before and encouraged me to openness in places I wouldn’t have considered. This work includes a brief history of the West’s ever changing views on gender and sexuality, a discussion of queerness as it intersects with theology and capitalism, and a lengthy interaction with Marcella Althaus-Reid’s Indecent Theology. This book is so much more than “can Christians be gay?”— it transcends those apologetic questions and strategies and gets right to the heart of our theology and praxis. I learned a lot, but it would take probably 5 re-reads of this for me to truly grasp each concept and feel I had a handle on it.

“Christianity is about a message of radical, boundary-destroying love. Christianity, rightly understood, is about the transgression of boundaries. Christians believe in a God whose love undoes every binary.”

“God is not a tidy God, categorizing Gods people neatly and expecting them to stay within such categories.”

[Samuel · Rating 5 out of 5]

My initial reaction, which won't do justice to this book, is that it is excellent. I've learned a good deal about the contours and animating questions of queer theology. Linn Tonstad presents them in an accessible manner; an impressive feat considering the conceptual difficulties that is often characteristic of queer theory and theology. There is also a helpful suggested for further reading section that provides good commentary on what to read next. The final chapter also gives a concise survey of the different directions queer theology has gone since Marcella Althaus-Reid. I'm about to add several more titles to my to-read list due to this chapter alone.

[Haley Elenbaas Thomas · Rating 4 out of 5]

This book took me a couple months to read (my brain is out of “theology talk” shape), but it was incredibly insightful. I learned a lot about God and have a lot to think about. This book goes 1000 steps further than “what does God think of homosexuality” and talks more about the body, sexuality, the nature of God, how humanity reflects God, and how the church- in many ways- even while creating a box- is queer. Will read again.

I think that a more reader-friendly version of this book would be helpful if thats possible. It is very academic and would be hard for many people outside of academia to read (myself included).

[Lydia · Rating 2 out of 5]

This is probably the right book for someone but it was certainly not the right one for me. I found its language to be far too academic and many passages went over my head (despite persistent rereading, often without gaining a greater understanding the second time through). The most interesting section to me was the book’s brief foray into apologetics, but beyond that, it almost exclusively consists of verbose and unintelligible theory. Do I regret reading it? No. Could I have stopped at Chapter 3 and left with the same level of newfound knowledge? Probably.

[Brooks]

This book is meant for a 300-level classroom.

It was my mistake choosing to read it casually.

Thought provoking, but I just did not have the requisite knowledge of the field to parse the discussion.

[Aleksandra]

I can’t give a legitimate review since I can’t judge it against anything, but I feel like I know the basics now. I feel like I was given a clear introduction into a topic I previously knew nothing about (with references to queer theory I have some idea of) and it contains a further reading list :)

[Arianna]

very focused on sex, which was hard to look past as an asexual queer; some good thoughts though!

[Tasha · Rating 3 out of 5]

A good read but very dense

[Cienna Rianne · Rating 4 out of 5]

Tried to read this before div school and found it impenetrable but I guess I did develop a skill or two over the course of my lil degree bc it felt very accessible this time. Kinda kicking myself for not trying again earlier due to Tonstad was literally my advisor - all that to say, this was a good intro and I rlly liked the writing. I think all my gripes are misplaced aka I wanted way more depth on some of the topics covered especially Christology but what else is new 🤓 used to have beef with the stance of refusing to engage in apologetic strategies but have become more convinced over time mostly through lived experience.

[Johan Öhrvall · Rating 2 out of 5]

Intressant ämne att sätta sig in i. Otroligt svaga argument. Pedagogiskt tråkig.

[Josh Issa · Rating 4 out of 5]

This was a very challenging read because you will be constantly challenged in how you think about the world. The shock really starting setting in for me with this quote from Althaus-Reid: theology is putting our hands up God’s skirt 😳 - definitely an interesting thing to think about 20 minutes before church.

[Jeremy]

Lots of interesting thoughts and territory covered here. Seems pretty early stages for this field? But I could be wrong.

[Jordan Smith · Rating 5 out of 5]

Mind-blowing. I didn’t even realize there was an alternative to apologetics.

[Dow · Rating 5 out of 5]

When you have questions, books are invaluable. A bad book won't answer the questions you're looking for and will leave you more confused than when you began. A good book will provide you the information you're looking for.

But a *great* book. Those are the books that make you realize that the questions you were asking are just the tip of the iceberg, and there's so much more to learn if you choose to dig deeper. Queer Theology by Linn Marie Tonstad is a great book.

The author is a scholar of both Christian theology and queer studies, and both are used extensively to make her arguments. Through carefully constructed logical frameworks that avoid falling into fallacy, Tonstad breaks down why apologetics, either in traditional Christian theology and in Queer Theology, always fail to answer the questions they set out to ask. But she doesn't stop there; citing many writers of both theology and queer theory, Tonstad takes her argument further to argue that mere acceptance of Queerness (defined as not only LGBTQ+ individuals, but also racial and religious minorities, the poor, refugees, prisoners, and any who society tends to judge against "norms" as being "less than") within a church is not only not enough, but actually perpetuate the issue (e.g. if gay and non-cisgender individuals are "accepted" into the church, this implies that there are some who are still seen as unworthy in a lot of theological spaces).

A radical rethinking of what religion means - the imagery used to reinforce gender and economic hierarchies, capitalist society, the nuclear family - to focus on doing away with all human judgment, and promoting connection and support of people of all walks of life, is the bare minimum.

There are many authors and books cited that I will absolutely follow up on. My curiosity is captured in a way that neither Dan Kimball's or C.S. Lewis' books were capable of instilling in me. I look forward to seeing where this journey of research and discovery will take me.

[Anna Hundert · Rating 5 out of 5]

I’m so glad I finally read this excellent book. Tonstad works with queer Christian theology from an exciting angle that transcends “apologetics” (the kind of “queer theology” that aims mainly toward justifying queer inclusion/existence) and looks toward ways of doing theology that encourage actual transformation of outlooks and communities. With a healthy dose of Marx, the real meat of this book is in her discussion of Althaus-Reid (still haven’t read her work, though I’ve got a library copy of Indecent Theology I’m excited to dive into) — but I loved the whole thing, even the chapter of “rehearsing” apologetics just to deem them un-central to the project. Tonstad mostly explains and evaluates theology that already exists, and for me as someone who wants to study these things, it’s super helpful as a starter bibliography/primer. She summarizes queer theory concepts with exceptional grace, and that combined with Christian theological writing—two notoriously dense things—making it all clear, accessible, and connected is super impressive. You don’t have to be studying theology to love this book & I earnestly recommend it to anybody who bothered to read this far

[luke timothy bitzkie · Rating 5 out of 5]

Linn Marie Tonstad's "Queer Theology: Beyond Apologetics" is a powerful framing of what queer theology "is" and what queer theology "isn't." Tonstad claims that queer theology is not found in the apologetics that advocate inclusion or in the language that positions God as female or gender-queer. Rather, Tonstad asserts that queer theology exists only beyond these apologetics, specifically in the very "disturbance" that the identity of queer is—that is to say that queerness is not an ideological trait but a praxis. In these assertions, Tonstad draws heavily and powerfully on the theological ideas of Marcella Althaus-Reid, while also engaging a plethora of authors, philosophers, and theologians. Tonstad's framing of queer theology is unlike any representation/understanding that I have encountered before. I see myself drawing on Tonstad's ideas for years to come.

[shannon · Rating 4 out of 5]

I chose to read this book as part of my own journey in reconciling my sexuality with the church/religion I was raised in. Being a queer adult with a lot of church trauma, I find this book very enlightening and a great start to the world of queer theology. I think the best part of this book is how it refuses to see queer theology through the lens of apologetics and it questions many angles of Christianity and the root of it. I’ve learnt a lot reading this book but as someone who is not used to reading academic texts, this can be a little bit hard to read/digest at times and it makes references to a lot of other queer theology texts and ideologies that I wasn’t familiar with but would love to read more of after this.

[Taylor Yoder · Rating 3 out of 5]

I appreciated that this book was not merely apologetics (which are addressed) but went far beyond those arguments, addressing queerness as a way of understanding the intersections between sex and power, capitalism, and the church. For orthodox Christians reading the book, you’ll notice her views of both scripture and the revelation of God to humanity are quite different than those of the tradition. With that being said, I’d say this is was a helpful read as an introduction to queer theology, albeit quite academic and perhaps a difficult read for one who has little knowledge of theology/queer theory.

[Paul · Rating 5 out of 5]

As an academic in a different discipline, who knows enough to recognize the name the name Althaus-Reid but not enough to understand her, this was the perfect book. The chapter summarizing different (mostly apologetic) approaches to queer theology was an excellent summary...and what followed was challenging in the right ways.

Good for someone who understands a bit about theology and queer issues. It sounds like it grew from her undergraduate class, and is a good match for that level.

[Jack · Rating 3 out of 5]

As an introduction to queer theology, Tonstad's book is helpful and concise. But I was hoping there would be more constructive theological exploration here. I saw Tonstad respond to a panel at AAR and was awestruck by her sharp intellect, so I was looking forward to her own original insights into theology. But this is mostly a survey of other peoples' work. By the end, I felt like her stated purpose--to go beyond apologetics--was left unfulfilled.