Lisa at
My Manner of Life has some
comments about "love the sinner but hate the sin" that ring true to my ears.
When anybody tells me they "Love the sinner, but hate the sin," I immediately know I'm dealing with someone who hates me, my life, my relationships, and everything I treasure in my life. Those people can quibble and temporize all they want. But the fact is, "Love the sinner, hate the sin" has become a bastion for people who are willing to tolerate every other "sin" except for the supposed "sin" of Christians who are in committed relationships with people of the same sex. Do they look at the morbidly obese former-bishop Schofield and offer to love him but hate his sin? No, they do not. Do they turn their little slogan against twice-divorced-and-thrice-married bishops of our church? No, they do not.
It seems to me that the only people against whom I hear them deliver this slogan is us gay people. And the message is condescension, pure and simple.
If they were talking about "colored people" or "retarded people," someone would call them on their bigotry. But so far, as of January 7, 2008, they are still allowed to trot out their "Love the sinner, but hate the sin" mantra as if it did anything besides articulate mask deep, uncompromising hatred of homosexuals. And even our best friends try to engage those "Love the sinner, hate the sin" people as if they were rational. It is so easy to get sucked in by their apparent sense. [emphasis mine]
Now, much umbrage is being taken because nobody seems to hear this phrase used except in the context of homosexuality. That may well be the case nowadays though I remember hearing it used in lots of categories during my evangelical youth. Which doesn't really help because (1) I could always hear in the phrase an element of self-righteous judgmentalism that belies the very idea of love and (2) whenever it is used there is a very clear declaration of sin without qualification or nuance.
It quickly leads into all manner of tricky issues. For instance, it would be used of an alcoholic, and I heard it used that way. This presupposes that alcoholism is a sin and not a disease, and I have a problem with that. Some folks think equating homosexuality with alcoholism is a step forward because it acknowledges a disease rather than a consciously chosen sin. Not an advance at all. Disease or sin, neither fits with the experience of LGBT people as they know it.
The analogous category that works for me is handedness. My being left-handed is not a disease, it is not a sin, it is not something I chose, and it is not an abnormality in any sense other than being a minority condition, yet one that works just fine. By innate preference and ease I do things with my left hand that most people do with their right hand. I have learned to shake hands with my right hand because that is what one does in our society, rooted in exposing the sword hand to assure peaceful intentions. Well, like Ehud the judge, I could easily have that sword in my left ready to strike you, but I don't and my extended right hand means the same as anyone else's.
Though I do not assert that this is the case with all folks who use the phrase, I nonetheless hear in it elements of superstitious relief: by loving the sinner I can maintain our shared commonality as human beings but by hating the sin I separate myself from that "other" and spare myself the contagion of the sin. It is very important for some people to resist even
de facto recognition of something for fear it will taint them as granting it
de jure recognition. "I don't think it's right for you to be in a same-sex relationship so I will to my death condemn that relationship, even if I love you both, because if I don't condemn it then the world (and God) might think that I approve. And I don't. Love your company but don't want your cooties when the Great White Throne Judgment comes along, thanks."
It reminds me of the old "there but for the grace of God go I" line that also makes me wanna puke. It seems like an amulet, some ancient magical formula, the recitation of which reinforces the distinction between my state and that of the identified unfortunate. It allegedly acknowledges that whatever the other person's condition may be I too could fall into it, thus implying the virtue of humility and recognition that I too am capable of folly and sin or susceptible to misfortune and disaster, thus no better than the other person. And yet, and yet.... It clearly delineates me from that other person and attributes the difference (oh, so humbly) to God's grace. What? Does this mean the other person is in some unfortunate state also by God's grace? It must. Is God's grace so arbitrary? Why would God's grace "rescue" me and not someone else? What grace leaves that other person homeless and walking the streets in unmedicated agitation? I don't get it. Is this grace either random or sadistic?
The only version of that which works for me is "there in the grace of God go I," without setting up the barrier or distinction. We are all in this together and I am not safe or separate.
So what galls me about the "love the sinner, hate the sin" cliché? I think that while it does recognize that we are all sinners and all beloved at one and the same time it basically declares the distinction/barrier between the speaker and the spoken about rather than affirm our essential commonality. While love knows distinctions it is not about distinctions; it sends rain (life, blessing) on the pure and the impure alike. Jesus manifests a love of God that is quite prodigal and not very concerned with purity. Wholeness and holiness, yes, but not so much what passed in his day, or ours, for purity.
Thus what I hear in the phrase is "I am not like you [thank God]." I don't hear the love. Not even a little bit. I hear self-deception, judgment, and the desire to keep a safe distance.
If I were to say "I love heterosexuals but hate their orientation" I suspect most folk would consider the statement inherently contradictory, even though one may justify it in terms of logical distinctions only. If I hate the attraction of men for women and women for men then I clearly find something about straight folks inherently ucky and this would make it very difficult to truly love them
qua straight folk. I mean, I'd love them so much more if they weren't straight, right? If I didn't have to see them hold hands or kiss or call each other by endearments, you know?
But that's not how I feel at all. I really enjoy attraction, affection, mutual delight, desire, and all that good stuff between humans in any configuration. I'm a real romantic.
And that God-given drive and attraction gets used in all manner of life-giving and destructive ways. But it ain't the gender involved that decides what interactions are sinful, it's the way we treat each other and whether we seek only ourselves or something larger than ourselves.
So, yes, I think loving the sinner and hating the sin is a crap phrase.
If any of us loves anyone at all we are loving sinners. Do we really need to go on and specify that we are hating their sins, whatever the hell those sins may be? Is that addition really an expression of love or of God's righteousness? I think it's superfluous, alters the entire meaning of the love alleged in the first instance, and implies to all (and absolutely shouts from the housetops to the targets) that the love ain't there, folks.
I am glad I am not on the HoB or HoD list serves and thus spared the brouhaha going on. But I clearly have my feelings about it and you just read them.
--the BB
And this afternoon a visitor from the Czech Republic joins us. Welcome.
I recall how dismayed I was when the glorious hopes of the Prague Spring in 1968 were crushed. I bought a small (3x5 inch) Czech flag and I think I still may have it somewhere. It used to sit in my pencil holder where I could see it and yearn for the Czech people to govern themselves freely again. Eventually the day came.
