Thin vs. Thick Theology

What distinguishes "thin" from "thick" theology? What makes some theologies "thicker" than others? What makes some moral directives, commands, prescriptions, or permissions theologically "thin," and others theologically "thick"? Where does the "thickness" in thick theology come from? 
      Thin theologies may make rather easy or simple demands on us, while thick theologies may make complex or difficult demands on us. It may often be easy for us to know when we've fully complied with a thin theology, but it may be difficult for us to know when we've fully complied with a thick theology. Thick theologies may not bring us the kind of moral certainty that thin theologies may bring us. 
      For thin theology, truth may be absolute, but for thick theology, it may be relative. Thick theologies may allow for the possibility of doubt, but thin theologies may see doubt as unnecessary and indicating a lack of faith. For thick theologies, however, there is no faith without the possibility of doubt. If doubt were impossible, then there would be no need of faith.
      Thin theology may be monistic, exclusionary, and reductionist in its outlook, aims, and methodology. Thick theology, on the other hand, may be pluralistic, inclusionary, and nonreductionist. For thin theology, there may be only one valid or legitimate way of looking at the world, but for thick theology, there may be many valid or legitimate ways of looking at the world.
      A theology may have both thin and thick components. Theologies may therefore be classified as "thin" or "thick" depending on which components predominate. The thinness or thickness of the components of one theology may, in theory or practice, be greater than, less than, or roughly the same as those of some other theology.
      Thin theologies may be more dogmatic, rigid, and ideological than thick theologies. So when does a theology become an ideology? Are all theologies actually religious ideologies?
      What's the difference between theology and ideology? If one possible definition of an ideology is that it's a system of ideas, beliefs, or opinions that serves to articulate or legitimate a particular political, economic, social, or cultural agenda (or program, social structure, set of institutions, or system of power), then some theologies may indeed be political, economic, social, or cultural ideologies.
      The more politicized and ideologized a theology is, the thinner it may be. To the extent that a theology becomes merely a political ideology, it may lose whatever thickness it may have had.
      Fundamentalist theologies may be thin insofar as they don't recognize the possibility of uncertainty or doubt, but they may also have thick elements that can have a powerful influence on the religious, moral, social, or cultural imagination.
      Michael Freeden (2003) distinguishes between thin and thick ideologies by saying that thin ideologies have a restricted morphology (or internal structure) and are limited in aim and scope. Thick ideologies are macro-ideologies that have broad aims and scope, but thin ideologies are micro-ideologies that have limited aims and scope.¹ 
      Bernard WIlliams (1985) describes thick ethical terms or concepts as those that are both factual and evaluative in describing and appraising various modes of behavior. The way in which such terms or concepts are applied depends on a factual situation, such as how a person has behaved in a certain set of circumstances, but also involves an evaluation that provides reasons for action.²
      Simon Kirchin (2013) explains that the distinction between thin and thick concepts may apply not only to ethical, but also to aesthetic, epistemic, and other kinds of concepts. The difference between thin and thick concepts may be that thin concepts are primarily evaluative, with little descriptive content, while thick concepts are both evaluative and descriptive.³ 
     Examples of thin ethical terms (or concepts) that function primarily to indicate approval or disapproval of various kinds of conduct include the terms "good," "bad," "right," "wrong," "permissible," and "obligatory." Examples of thick ethical terms or concepts, which have descriptive as well as evaluative content, include the terms  "selfish," "unselfish," "kind," "compassionate," "honest," "deceitful," "cruel," "greedy," and "generous," Thick terms aren't simply arbitrary edicts or dictatorial pronouncements about certain modes of behavior; they are more nuanced and balanced evaluations that allow for the possible complexity of motives behind that behavior. Thin ethical terms may express our approval or disapproval of various modes of behavior, but they don't explain exactly why we should approve or disapprove of those modes of behavior. 
     Kirchin (2017) also distinguishes between separationism and nonseparationism with regard to thick terms or concepts, explaining that separationism holds that all or most so-called thick terms or concepts have separable thick or thin components, while nonseparationism holds that they do not.⁴ Nonseparationism may be cognitivist in asserting that thick evaluations are cognitive evaluations of facts and that they have the same cognitive status as beliefs (which can be shown to be true or false). Separationism, on the other hand, may be noncognitivist in asserting that the evaluative components of thick terms or concepts merely express our approval or disapproval of certain kinds of behavior and are not actually cognitive evaluations of those kinds of behavior.
      Judith Jarvis Thomson (2008) distinguishes between normative judgments (such as "A should move his rook") and non-normative judgments (such as "A is playing chess"). She also distinguishes between evaluative normative judgments (such as "A is a good tennis player" or "B is good at doing crossword puzzles" or "C is good as Ophelia in Hamlet") and directive normative judgments (such as "A should be kind to his little brother" or "B should try to more punctual" or "C should get a haircut").⁵ 
      (Thin or thick) moral normativity may thus be described as the ability or tendency of something to be (thinly or thickly) morally normative, or as the ability or tendency of something to (thinly or thickly) establish a moral norm, standard, or ideal of behavior,
      Thick theological concepts may be those that are densely connotative or deeply metaphorical and capable of engaging and taking hold of our imaginations. Thin theological concepts, on the other hand, may be only weakly connotative and starkly literal, and may therefore be relatively resistant to changes in interpretation and application.
      Thick theological concepts may include those we have to spiritually, intellectually, or philosophically struggle with, those that challenge, disquiet, trouble, or inspire us. Thin theological concepts, on the other hand, may be relatively rigid and inflexible, fixed and incontrovertible, coercively inculcated, "set in stone" to be unquestioningly accepted, and strictly enforced by religious or social sanctions.
      There may be thin or thick readings of religious, ethical, literary, and other kinds of texts, depending on how literal or metaphorical, closed or open, monologic or dialogic, univocal or multivocal, and finalized or unfinalized those readings are. Thick readings may allow for many levels of meaning within a single text, while thin readings may attempt to reduce the meaning of a text to something that is unequivocal, easily interpretable, and readily summarizable.
      Sallie McFague (1982) explains that the tasks of a metaphorical theology include seeking an understanding of the centrality of models of God in religious language, analyzing such models as mediators between metaphors and concepts, criticizing literalized and exclusive models, and investigating the possibilities for transformative and revolutionary models.⁶ The goal of such an analysis is to challenge the rationale for conforming to the didacticism of traditional orthodoxy, as opposed to adopting the more flexible, open, kerygmatic (proclamatory) point of view epitomized by the parables of the Gospels.⁷ It's also to recognize that in order to develop truly meaningful theological models, a metaphorical theology must avoid literalism and idolatry of all kinds.⁸
      Is thick theology merely a kind of postmodern theology, insofar as it questions universalist notions of truth, the reliability of claims to absolute knowledge, and the possibility of objective certainty? Conservative theologians may see postmodernism as a threat to traditional orthodoxy, insofar as it questions the notion of truth as absolute, objective, eternal, and universal. If postmodernism is an attitude of incredulity toward metanarratives⁹ (grand or overarching narratives that serve to legitimate knowledge claims and to explain the meaning of various events), then it may view religious narratives as metanarratives, and postmodern theology may be viewed by conservative theologians as an attempt to challenge or deliberately subvert the narratives of religious faith.
      But thick theology is not in itself an attempt to question or deconstruct reassuring myths and beguiling metanarratives. Rather, it's an affirmation of religious faith in the face of the kinds of metaphysical, philosophical, social, and cultural challenges posed by postmodernism. Thick theology is thick because, like Keat's "negative capability" (1817),¹⁰ it's a capacity to reconcile ourselves with uncertainty, mystery, and doubt.
      The distinction Dietrich Bonhoeffer (1937) makes between "cheap grace" and "costly grace" may also be the distinction between thin and thick theology. Bonhoeffer says, "Cheap grace is the grace we bestow on ourselves...the preaching of forgiveness without requiring repentance...absolution without personal confession. Cheap grace is grace without discipleship, grace without the cross."¹¹ Costly grace, on the other hand, is "the gospel that must be sought again and again, the gift that must be asked for, the door at which we must knock. Such a grace is costly because it calls us to follow...It is costly because it condemns sin, and is grace because it justifies the sinner."¹² 
      Vincent Lloyd (2014) distinguishes between thin and thick theology in terms of their political and social perspectives by saying that thin theology tends to have a more secular viewpoint, while thick theology tends to offer a more distinctively theological vision. The question then is whether theology must be "thinned" in order to have greater social appeal or whether it can be "thickened" and still be heard in the public square. Lloyd concludes there is sufficient space for thick theology in public discourse, and that it can explicate a variety of ideas, themes, and practices that can promote and guide public action.¹³


FOOTNOTES

¹Michael Freeden, Ideology: A Very Short Introduction (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2003), p. 98. 
²Bernard Williams, Ethics and the Limits of Philosophy (London: Routledge, 1985), p. 129.
³Simon Kirchin, Thick Concepts (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2013, p. 2.
⁴Kirchin, Thick Evaluation (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2017), p. 2.
⁵Judith Jarvis Thomson, Normativity (Chicago: Open Court Publishing Company, 2008), p. 2.
⁶Sallie McFague, Metaphorical Theology: Models of God in Religious Language (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1982), p. 28.
⁷Ibid., p. 28.
⁸Ibid., p. 19.
⁹Jean-François Lyotard, The Postmodern Condition: A Report on Knowledge, translated by Geoff Bennington and Brian Massumi (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 1984), p. xxiv.
¹⁰John Keats, The Letters of John Keats, Volume 1, edited by Hyder Edward Rollins (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1958), p. 193.
¹¹Dietrich Bonhoeffer, The Cost of Discipleship, translated by R.H. Fuller, with some revision by Irmgard Booth (New York: Macmillan, 1959), p. 36.
¹²Ibid., p. 37.
¹³Vincent Lloyd, "Thick or Thin? Liberal Protestant Public Theology," in Journal of Religious Ethics, Volume 42, Issue 2, April 14, 2014, pp. 337-338.

A Case for a Gender-Inclusive Lord's Prayer

When I'm in church on Sundays, and it's time to say the Lord's Prayer, I've found it increasingly difficult to begin, along with the rest of the congregation, by saying the words "Our Father." The phrase just seems too worn out and outdated as a way of addressing God. Although the church I belong to has encouraged the use of gender-inclusive language in liturgy and worship, the version of the Lord's Prayer that's printed in the church program usually begins with the words "Our Father," and the reference to God as having a male gender identity has simply become too much for me to accept. Every time I say the words "Our Father" I feel as if I'm implicitly (or perhaps explicitly) supporting patriarchy and sexism within the Christian Church.
      Some of my fellow parishioners have expressed a preference for the version of the Lord's Prayer that's found in the New Zealand Prayer Book, which contains the phrase "Father and Mother of us all," and which seems more gender-inclusive. But the traditional "Our Father" version is the one we're usually called upon to recite at service each Sunday.
      The use of gender-inclusive or gender-neutral language in liturgy and worship has been encouraged by a variety of Christian denominations, including the United Church of Christ, the Metropolitan Community Church, the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America, the Episcopal Church, the Presbyterian Church, and other denominations. However, there is still progress to be made, and there are further steps to be taken, in promoting more gender-inclusive language in the liturgy, prayer book, and call to worship.
      Gender-inclusive language recognizes that all women, men, and non-binary people are equally loved and valued by God. It also encourages us to remember that God is neither male nor female, and that God transcends gender identity.
      Alternatives to saying "Our Father, who art in heaven" at the beginning of the Lord's Prayer might include "Our Creator in heaven," or "Our Creator, Redeemer, and Sustainer, who is in heaven," or "Blessed One, our Father and Mother in heaven" or "Beloved One, who dwells in heaven and on earth." Alternatives to saying "Thy kingdom come, Thy will be done" (which connotes a realm ruled by a man who's king) might include "Your dominion come, Your will be done."
      Changing the wording of the Lord's Prayer isn't really a radical thing to do. In 2017, Pope Francis suggested that saying "Do not let us fall into temptation" might be more appropriate than saying, "Lead us not into temptation," since God doesn't lead anyone into sin.¹  SImilarly, in 2017 the French Catholic Church changed the phrase "Ne nous sommets pas à la tentation" (Do not subject us to temptation) to "Ne nous laisse pas entrer en tentation" (Do not let us enter into temptation).² 
      An argument I'd like to make for rewording the Lord's Prayer is that—for those who say we can't change the words of the Lord's Prayer because that would be to say something different from what's written in the Bible or that "Our Father who art in heaven" is what's written in the Bible and therefore those are the words we have to (or are supposed to) say—the ancient Greek text of the Gospel of Matthew (6:9) says that Jesus, who likely spoke in Aramaic, begins his prayer by saying "Οὕτως οὖν προσεύχεσθε ὑμεῖς" ("houtos oun proseuchesthe humeis"), which may be translated (depending on which version of the Bible you are reading) as "Pray then like this" (New Living Translation) or "Therefore pray in this manner" (King James Bible) or "Pray then in this way" (New American Standard Bible) or "This, then, is how your should pray" (New International Version). Jesus doesn't say, "Pray, using precisely these words," or "Repeat the following words," or "Pray in these words, word for word." Because he's teaching us how to pray, he tells us to pray like this, or in this way, or in this manner. This is in keeping with his other instructions on how to pray: "Don't heap up empty phrases" (Matthew 6:7), "Don't stand and pray in the synagogues and at the street corners, so that you may be seen by others" (Matthew 6:5), and "Don't show off your piety in order to be seen by others" (Matthew 6:1). Because Jesus is teaching us how to pray, he wants us to pray from our hearts. He wants us to pray what's in our hearts, and not simply repeat, word for word, some lines we've memorized. He teaches us to pray to God, so that we may be forgiven for our transgressions and delivered from evil.  
      Throughout the Sermon on the Mount, Jesus does refer to God as "your Father" (Matthew 5:16, 6:4, 6:8, 6:15, 6:18), "your Father, who is in heaven" (Matthew 6:1), "Our Father" (Matthew 6:9), and "your heavenly Father" (Matthew 5:48, 6:14). But we shouldn't get too bound to the "Father" imagery or think of God exclusively as "Father." Jesus metaphorically refers to God as "Father," but he doesn't say this is the only way of thinking about God. God is not only our Father, but also many other things, including our Creator, Redeemer, and Sustainer. We must therefore learn to think of God in other ways than that of thinking only of God as "Father." To strive for a gender-inclusive Lord's Prayer is to recognize that the God we pray to can't rightly be assigned a gender identity, and that God transcends gender categories.
      Furthermore, the wording of the Lord's Prayer in English has evolved as the English language has evolved. "Our Father, who art in heaven, Hallowed by thy name. Thy kingdom come, Thy will be done" is now archaic, and has often been replaced by "Our Father in heaven, Hallowed be your name. Your kingdom come, Your will be done."
      The imagery of God as "Father" is, of course, also found in the Apostles' and Nicene Creeds, and is so interwoven with the creeds that they would have to be extensively rewritten in order for them to become more gender-neutral or gender-inclusive. But that doesn't preclude us from making efforts to ensure that other aspects of the liturgy (such as calls to worship, prayers, scriptural readings, psalms, and hymns) are as gender-balanced or gender-inclusive as possible.


FOOTNOTES

¹Julie Zauzmer and Stefano Pitrelli, "'Lead us not into' what? Pope Francis suggests changing the words of the Lord's Prayer," in The Washington Post, December 12, 2017, online at https://www.sltrib.com/religion/global/2017/12/13/lead-us-not-into-what-pope-francis-suggests-changing-the-words-of-the-lords-prayer/.
²Ibid.

Queer Theology

I should note that, since I identify as straight (and I'm a black cisgender man), I don't pretend to speak with any authority on queer theology. Since this essay arises from my own reading of selected writings on queer theology and therefore inevitably reflects my own perspective on those writings, I don't pretend to write from the perspective of someone who knows from personal experience what it means to think theologically from a queer perspective. I don't present this essay as anything more than a summary of selected writings on queer theology that I've recently read and have found important to take note of and think about.

      What is queerness? Annamarie Jagose (1996) says "its definitional indeterminacy, its elasticity, is one of its constituent characteristics."¹ She says this fundamental indeterminacy makes queerness a difficult subject of study. It may suggest a range of possibilities, evading programmatic description and resisting conventional notions of gender and sexuality.² 
      Rosemary Hennessey (1993) says that queer theory calls into question obvious categories (such as gay, straight, man, woman), oppositions (such as man vs. woman, heterosexual vs. homosexual), and equations (such as gender = sex) upon which conventional notions of sexuality and gender identity are based.³ By embracing the word "queer," queer theory refuses to be shamed or dismissed by the terms of the dominant discourse, and defiantly rejects heteronormativity.⁴
      "Queering" a text or system of texts may therefore be a way of questioning its uncritical acceptance of conventional notions of sexual and gender identity.  Queering theology, for example, may be a way of liberating it from the patriarchal, sexist, and homophobic notions that have historically been reflected in the teachings, liturgy, and institutional structure of the church.
     Alexander Doty (1993) explains there are "queer positions," "queer readers," "queer readings," and "queer discourses."⁵ There may also be queer elements within basically heterocentrist texts or discourses, and queer moments or experiences in the lives of basically heterosexual, straight-identifying people. Just as queer people may negotiate their way through straight cultural spaces, straight people may negotiate their way through queer cultural spaces. In this sense, the use of the term "queer" takes up the standard binary opposition of queer and nonqueer (or straight), while questioning its viability.⁶
      Doty also says that queer spaces or positions aren't the only ones from which queer people read and produce mass culture. Just as with nonqueer people, such factors as race, ethnicity, gender, social class, occupation, education, religion, and nationality are important to social identity construction and contribute to the positions queer people take as cultural producers and reader-consumers.⁷
      What is queer theology? Patrick Cheng (2011) explains that it's the place where queer theory and Christian theology meet, and that it's queer talk about God.⁸ According to Cheng, radical love is at the heart of both queer theory and Christian theology. In queer theory, radical love challenges existing boundaries with respect to gender identity and sexuality, and in Christian theology, it dissolves the boundaries between life and death, time and eternity, the human and the divine.⁹
      Cheng says that queer theology may be defined as (1) theology done by and for LGBTQ people, (2) theology that is self-consciously transgressive in challenging societal norms about sexuality and gender, and (3) theology that is rooted in queer theory, and that critiques binary categories of sexual and gender identity.¹⁰ Christian theology itself is queer, says Cheng, insofar as it challenges and deconstructs--through radical love--binary categories (such as life vs. death, finite vs. infinite, human vs. divine) that are superficially fixed and unchangeable but ultimately fluid and variable.¹¹

      Womanist queer theology may be situated at the intersection of womanist theology and queer theory, and it may arise from the (personal, social, and theological) insights, perspectives, and experiences of black LBTQ women and other LBTQ women of color. It may also arise from the struggles of black LBTQ women and other LBTQ women of color against racism, sexism, heterosexism, classism, and other cultural oppressions. Pamela Lightsey (2015) describes it as a theology committed to black LBTQ women and other marginalized groups, and to their full inclusion as members of churches, communities, and society.¹²
      Marcella Althaus-Reid (2003) explains that

      "A queer theologian has many passports because she is a theologian in disapora, that is, a theologian who explores at the crossroads of Christianity issues of self-identity and the identity of her community, which are related to sexuality, race, culture and poverty.¹³
       "...Queer theologies are usually biographical theologies. One needs to follow that diasporic movement which allows us to understand the paths crossed, and the ways in which theological identities are still challenged, transformed, retracted and disguised in Christianity. Queer theologies are tactical theologies, 'using tactical queerness to cruise places occupied by normative straightness.'¹⁴ Queer theologies go into diasporas by using tactics of temporary occupation; disruptive practices which are not necessarily to be repeated, and reflections which aim to be disconcerting...Queer theology is, then, a first person theology: diasporic, self-disclosing, autobiographical and responsible for its own words."¹⁵

      What episodes in the life of Jesus might cause us to wonder about his sexuality or about whether he had any sexuality at all? In John 4, when Jesus meets a Samaritan woman, his disciples come upon them, and they marvel that he is alone talking with a woman (John 4:27). In Mark 14, when Judas betrays Jesus, Judas kisses him on the cheek. In John 11:5, we are told that Jesus loved Lazarus, and that he loved Lazarus's sisters, Mary and Martha. In John 12, after Jesus has come to visit them in Bethany, and they have served him supper, Mary anoints his feet with ointment, and wipes his feet with her hair (John 12:3). What exactly was the nature of Jesus and Mary's relationship? 
      What exactly was Jesus's relationship with some of the women--e.g. Mary Magdalene, Joanna, and Susanna (Luke 8:1-3)--who traveled with him during his ministry, along with his twelve male disciples? 
      Luke 10:38-42 tells us that when Jesus visited Mary and Martha (of Bethany) in their village, Mary sat at his feet, listening to his teaching, and that when Martha asked him why Mary wasn't helping her serve supper, Jesus affirmed that Mary had acted rightly by not accepting the subordinate role assigned to her.

      If we want to further examine what may constitute a queer Christology as well as a queer theology, then in what ways may Jesus be described as "queer"? Jesus may be described as "queer" in the sense that he's a celibate unmarried preacher who surrounds himself with male disciples, but who also loves women (Mary, Martha, and others). He's "queer" in the sense that his teachings often take the form of parables whose meaning at first seems uncertain or puzzling. He's "queer" in the sense that he's a prophet who refers to God as "my Father" (John 6:40). He's "queer" in the sense that he rides into Jerusalem on a donkey and is hailed by a large crowd as the King who comes in the name of the Lord (Luke 19:37-38, John 12:12-15). He's "queer" in the sense that he tells the crowd outside the temple at Jerusalem, "Destroy this temple, and I will raise it up in three days" (John 2:19).
     God may be described as "queer" in the sense that he transcends sex or gender categories. Jesus calls God his "Father," but God is actually neither male nor female, neither man nor woman. Or maybe he's both male and female, Father and Mother. God created man and woman, but he himself doesn't belong to any sex or gender category. He's "queer" in the sense that he's indefinable and nonbinary.
      But there are at least two problems with the notion of Jesus being asexual or desexualized. (1) Can Jesus be described as fully human if he has no sexuality? If he's fully incarnate, and if he's really "the Word made flesh" (John 1:14), then how can he have no sexuality? (2) If he's "a virgin born of a virgin,"¹⁶ and if having sexual intercourse would somehow debase or degrade him, then sex is considered something impure, unclean, or dirty, and the desexualized Jesus becomes someone whose human nature has been partially erased. Sexuality becomes something incompatible with holiness or sanctity, something that must be erased or expunged from the life of the spirit.
      On the eighth day after his birth, the baby Jesus was circumcised (Luke 2:21), as a sign of the covenant made by Abraham with God that all of Abraham's male descendants be circumcised (Genesis 17:10).
      Mark D. Jordan (2007) describes the typical crucifix depicting Jesus wearing a loincloth and nailed to a cross, with Jesus's body delineated in agonizing detail but without any suggestion of male genitals under the loincloth. Such partial erasure of the body of Jesus is an example of how Christian theology attempts to manage some of the more awkward implications of the incarnation, says Jordan.¹⁷ In paintings depicting the crucifixion, Jesus is almost never presented totally naked; although he was probably naked on the cross, he cannot be portrayed that way. Jordan says,

      "In many traditional readings, sexual shame began in Eden after the fall into sin...Adam and Eve made loincloths because they had sinned. Why do we make loincloths for our images of Jesus, in statues or in paintings? Because we sin. We have to cover him up because of what we have become in our fearful denials...
      "...For the most traditional Christian theology, it would be a sign of full redemption to represent Jesus naked on the cross. His nakedness would be a sign of a redeemed--that is, a humanly mature--community of believers. But we are afraid to look at the body of God as it was...We cannot let Jesus' body be whole, either in death or in life."¹⁸

     Leo Steinberg (1993) explains, however, that it has only been in the period since the Renaissance that Christ's genitals have typically been erased or concealed in works of art. In hundreds of Renaissance paintings, the genitals of the Christ Child or of the dead Christ are openly displayed. Steinberg explains that Renaissance artists had no theological difficulty depicting Christ's genitals, because of Christ's sinless nature and exemption from genital shame as the penalty for original sin.¹⁹
      Susannah Cornwall (2011) examines contemporary debates in queer theology regarding such questions as: What is queer? Is queer theology synonymous with gay or lesbian theology? Is queer theology inherently white or western in outlook? Is the bible queer? Is the Christian theological tradition queer? Given the history of discrimination against LGBTQ people in the Church, should LGBTQ people remain in the Church?"²⁰
      Cornwall says that

"queer has sometimes been called an ethically empty referent, since it rejects any static link between signifier and signified, and seeks to resist and critique regulatory discourse, including normativity...The questions are these: have the queer theologians over the last decade in particular been any more successful than those of the 1980s and early 1990s at negotiating queer in its definitional recalcitrance rather than freezing it into another regulatory identity? Has queer shown itself in practice to be a truly different methodology for theologians, or simply one cut from the same basic cloth as feminist and liberationist theologies and perhaps, therefore, unable adequately to critique or interrogate them?"²¹

      Elizabeth Stuart (2002) argues that queer theology differs from gay and lesbian theology in not being an identity-based theology and in fundamentally questioning the notion of stable gender identity. According to Stuart,

"queer theology...is not really 'about' sexuality in the way that gay and lesbian theology is about sexuality. Queer theology is actually about theology. In gay and lesbian theology, sexuality interrogated theology; in queer theology, theology interrogates sexuality."²²
       
      Robert E. Goss (2002) describes the importance of queer Christology and queer theology to the struggle for LGBTQ liberation. He says,

      "In his message and practice of the coming reign of God, Jesus embodied a preferential option for the oppressed. In his social practice, he modeled a new basileia [from the Greek term, basileia tou theou, "Kingdom of God"] network of social relations that were nonexploitative, nonhierarchical, and nonoppressive...Jesus was radical in his practice of solidarity with oppressed men and women...
      "...For centuries...the crucifixion stripped Jesus of his sexuality, his humanity, and the sociopolitical reality of his death. Christian discursive and nondiscursive practices have repeated Jesus' crucifixion. They remain acts of violence against the sexually oppressed. However, God's revelation on Easter aims to bring an end to crucifixions, not perpetuate them in the deployment of oppressive power relations.
      "The gay and lesbian reclamation of Jesus and his basileia practice becomes the generative matrix for reinterpreting Jesus' death and the Christ event in a nonhomophobic, nonheterosexist, and nonoppressive context... 
      "Jesus was put to death for his basileia solidarity with the poor, the outcast, the sinner, the socially dysfunctional, and the sexually oppressed. Jesus died in solidarity with gay men and lesbians. His death becomes a "no" to closeted existence, to gay/lesbian invisibility and homophobic violence...Easter becomes the event at which God says no to homophobic violence and sexual oppression...
       "Easter becomes the hope of queer sexual liberation. The queer struggle for sexual liberation will triumph; this is the promise of Easter...
      "On Easter, God made Jesus queer in his solidarity with us. In other words, Jesus "came out of the closet" and became the "queer" Christ...
      "...To say Jesus the Christ is queer is to say that God identifies with us and our experience of injustice. God experiences the stereotypes, the labeling, the hate crimes, the homophobic violence directed against us."²³ 
   

FOOTNOTES

¹Annamarie Jagose, Queer Theory: An Introduction (New York: New York University Press, 1996), p. 1.
²Ibid., pp. 96-99.
³Rosemary Hennessey, "Queer Theory: A Review of the differences Special Issue and Wittig's The Straight Mind," in Signs, Vol. 18, No. 4 (Summer, 1993), p. 964.

⁴Ibid., p. 967. 

⁵Alexander Doty, Making Things Perfectly Queer: Interpreting Mass Culture (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1993), p. 2.

⁶Ibid, pp. 2-3.

⁷Ibid., p. 5.

⁸Patrick Cheng, Radical Love: Introduction to Queer Theology (New York: Seabury Books, 2011) p. 2.
⁹Ibid., p. x.
¹⁰Ibid., pp. 9-10.
¹¹Ibid., p. 10.
¹²Pamela Lightsey, Our Lives Matter: A Womanist Queer Theology (Eugene: Pickwick Publications, 2015) pp. 1-2.
¹³Marcella Althaus-Reid, The Queer God (London: Routledge, 2003) p. 7. 
¹⁴Benigno Sanchez-Eppler and Cindy Patton, "Introduction: With a Passport Out of Eden," in Queer Diasporas, edited by Cindy Patton and Benigno Sanchez-Eppler (Durham: Duke University Press, 2000), p. 14.
¹⁵Marcella Althaus-Reid, The Queer God (London: Routledge, 2003), p. 8.

¹⁶Tertullian, On the Flesh of Christ, Chapter 20, translated by Peter Holmes. From Ante-Nicene Fathers, Vol. 3. Edited by Alexander Roberts, James Donaldson, and A. Cleveland Coxe (Buffalo, NY: Christian Literature Publishing Co., 1885). Revised and edited for New Advent by Kevin Knight. Online at http://newadvent.org/fathers/0315.htm. 
¹⁷Mark D. Jordan, "God's Body," in Queer Theology: Rethinking the Western Body, edited by Gerald Loughlin (Malden: Blackwell Publishing, 2007), p. 383.
¹⁸Ibid., pp. 384-385.
¹⁹Leo Steinberg, The Sexuality of Christ in Renaissance Art and in Modern Oblivion (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1983) p. 18.
²⁰Susannah Cornwall, Controversies in Queer Theology (London: SCM Press, 2011), p. v.
²¹Ibid., p. 39.
²²Elizabeth Stuart, Gay and Lesbian Theologies: Repetitions with Critical Difference (Brookfield, VT: Ashgate Publishing Company, 2002), p.102.
²³Robert E. Goss, Queering Christ: Beyond Jesus Acted Up (Cleveland: The Pilgrim Press, 2002), pp. 166-168.