The Body as Billboard: Intertextuality of Male- Male Intercourse and a Very Anal Paul
Jamke Highwater writes, “[T]here is [no act] as strongly prohibited as transcending a society's religious mythology and thereby calling into question its most tenaciously held attitudes about divinity, morality, normality, and the ultimate nature of reality”
[1]. If Highland’s assertion is correct, scholars of religion should be mindful of the way in which discourses of subversion and opposition are constructed by, and in tension with, a given cosmology. This is particularly pertinent for those wishing to gain insight into the development of Pauline communities within the social environs of the first century, for Pauline theology must be seen as a product of its first century context. It should also, however, be viewed in the light of a polemic against that same cultural
milieu.
This dialectic of synthesis and antithesis is particularly elucidating when discussing Paul, especially his attitudes towards male same-sex erotic behaviour and in the context of somatic discourses occurring within early Christian epistolography. Analysing Romans 1:26-27, for example, may provide scholars with a model for discourses on sex occurring within Pauline communities and their relationship to such issues as power, slavery, Christology, salvation, and eschatology. The body was a multivalent symbol within early Christian discourse upon which many meanings were inscribed and enshrined. Hence, I do not see Romans 1:26-27 as merely part of a larger discourse on the Fall and salvation, but as part of a multi-levelled somatic discourse occurring within Pauline epistolography. Whether Paul exhorts the flesh or negates its importance, the body is always present. Corporeality, more than any other metaphor, polarizes his thinking on sex.
This discourse has four discernible levels within Paul’s letters, the first of which is the body as a social sign integral to the formation and categorization of identity. Christian bodies, like their Greco-Roman counterparts, functioned as signs upon which a script of masculinity was
superimposed, both to each other and to the larger culture. Therefore, actions, particularly sexual ones, ingrained labels into the Christian masculine body. Secondly, the Christian body was a primary conduit through which believers related to the divine. Christian bodies were not their own; rather, they were something sacred. Degrading one’s body, therefore, not only brought terrestrial disgrace, but harmed one’s relationship to God as well. Thirdly, Christians used this corporeal metaphor in discourses of community. Thus, harm to any one Christian body harmed the entire body of believers. Polemics about sexual immorality, consequently, must be seen in the light of the collectivist tendency within proto-Christian thought. Lastly, this Christian corporate emblem was a strong symbol in the subversive and semiotic discourse against the Greco-Roman body politic.
While Christian bodies are often understood in relation to texts, I shall argue that Christian bodies produce their own interrelated signs and symbols; that Christian bodies produce several “texts”, and that this somatic intertexuality is vital for understanding early Christian sexual ethos. Thus, bodies produced messages as important to the spread of Christianity as early Christian writing. Ergo, Romans 1:27, with its condemnation of male-male sex acts, is best understood as part of this larger corporeal discourse. Through a closer analysis of polemics against male homoeroticism in Pauline literature, one can gain insight into the relationship between soma and dogma.
Before one can trace the formation of this intertextual metaphor, one must trace a genealogy of sexual behaviour within Greece and Rome, with particular emphasis on power relationships, the admiration of youth, and the idealization of the male body. This is not merely a digression: “Greek love”, whether viewed positively or negatively, predicated a phallocentric sexual ethos, which would come to influence Romans, Jews, and early Christians. Since the
word homosexuality -- as part of a growing taxonomy of sexual acts -- did not exist until the latter half of the 18th to the beginning of the 19th century
[2], and sexuality is a culturally constructed phenomenon
[3], an analysis of ancient sexual attitudes can only consist in a commentary on specific practices; for the concept of ‘sexuality’ was utterly alien to ancients
[4]. For the classical Greeks, sex was less about desire than power. Pederasty is perhaps the best example of this: it exemplified erotics, aesthetics, philosophical discourse, and phallocentric dominance. The practice of Pederasty
[5] (
παιδεραστία) fourished in Attica during the fourth and fifth century BCE; it was a vital institution in the education of young Athenian males
[6] and pederasty in its proper form could ameliorate the reputations of both persons involved.
Since sexual desire was viewed in terms of power and conquest, the language associated with pederasty is important for understanding its meaning. The
erastes was the older partner in this asymmetrical relationship; thus, he was able to play an active role. In opposition to its active form,
erastes, the word
eromenos is derived from the third person passive participial form of
ero[7]. This term could be applied to both cross-sex and same-sex intercourse
[8]. The gender of the object choice mattered little to the Greeks. What mattered more was who was on top and in what context.
The verb
aphrodisiazein (
αφροδισιάζω, to have sex) is carefully delineated into passive and active forms; sexual acts were not mutual
[9]. It was the exclusive right of the Athenian citizen to derive pleasure from intercourse. He was free to use slaves and prostitutes of either gender and his spouse as he saw fit
[10]. Halperin observes that it was the proper “part of males to obtain sexual pleasure from contact with males—so long as that desire respect[ed] the proper phallocentric protocols (which... identify "masculinity" with an insertive sexual role)”
[11]. This obsession with dominance, whether real or imagined, structured all classical Greek sexual liaisons and, arguably, all socio-political liaisons as well
[12]. Ergo, in principle, though most likely not in practice, there was not supposed to be mutual pleasure in sexual acts. It was believed, with respect to females, that their hungry womb gained pleasure in being inseminated. In the Greek view, females did not become sexually aroused by a particular man, but by a desire for his seed, hence
aphrodisiazein (αφροδισιάζω) may also mean “to plough”
[13].
With respect to pederasty, since it was only a social ideal when it existed in a asymmetrical form, it was the job of the
eromenos to pleasure his
erastes. If he received pleasure from the experience, it was only incidental
[14]. Pederastic relationships were finite, and served a specific function for each respective person. If they violated the mores of Greco-Roman masculinity, participants in a pederastic relationship were subject to sanction.
There are reports of individuals who enjoyed the pursuit of young men, since they were harder to subdue than women
[15]. A man could also become enraptured by his beloved. This was a very powerful emotion, and one could not become too captivated by one’s
eromenos. It was a force which seized the lover
[16]; the trick was to not become too captivated, lest the
eromenos should take advantage of you. In Attic homoeroticism, there was a complex interplay between sex and power. It was one wherein the erotic impulse could consume both persons involved. Pederasty allowed the lover to worship a younger version of himself and compete with this youth for dominance. This is further supported by the fact that pederastic encounters often occurred within the context of athletics, where sexual advances often occurred in wrestling. This autoerotic tendency within pederasty would later receive sanctions from Hellenistic moralists and early Christians.
Pederasty had its limits, however
[17]. When a free citizen was penetrated, it constituted a form of prostitution, since he willingly took on the role of women, slaves, and boys. In the eyes of Athens, he surrendered his inalienable right to govern others and, consequently, was no better than a prostitute
[18]. This gender subversive behaviour was also treacherous: if a man were willing to surrender his own body, then how could he be trusted to not betray the
polis?
[19]. At this point in our discussion on same-sex male erotic practices, two things must be noted: first, that in the ancient Mediterranean, sexual actions were signs that could write a text on the male body according to whether he deviated from or followed a given script of masculinity. This script was constructed by ritualized power that influenced all daily actions, especially sex. In addition, the individual body, with its various signs, functioned in relation to, and as a part of, the
polis. Therefore, sexual actions were interlinked with politics.
What of the ideal male love presented in Plato’s
Symposium, particularly in the speech of Diotima
[20]? Eva Cantarelilie suggests that Plato preferred men to women and that, for Plato, male-male eroticism was the ideal form of love. She suggestion that this was caused by intellectual asymmetry between Athenian women and men
[21]. To Plato, male beauty on all its levels was the true form of beauty by which one apprehended one’s good. The practice of philosophy, says Diotima, is more genitive than biological reproduction because philosophy gives birth to ideas, which are permanent, whereas reproduction produces more human beings, who are transient. That which does not pass away is less corruptible; ergo, the philosopher’s pursuit is the more noble. Under this philosophical framework lies the same assumptions that support the sexual regulations of pederasty. By gazing upon the ideal male body, one is led to beauty. One must teach this male, so that he too may perpetuate the asymmetrical patriarchal aristocracy. Both
erestes and
eromenos are enraptured by each other’s gaze. If Plato’s ideal continues, then eventually the beloved aspires to become the lover. In this way, the male gaze is continued through a self-valorizing narcissism, but this time it is the soul, as opposed to the body, that will carry the marks of properly directed desire. When Alcibiades gives his speech in the
Symposium, he is surprised and somewhat offended that Socrates did not have intercourse with him
[22]. Socrates does, however, make use of the same institutions with Alcibiades; he uses these to both teach Alcibiades and make his larger philosophical argument. Though Socrates’s sexual restraint is noteworthy, both his and Alcibiades’s bodies function as signs to fellow citizens. They are advertisements of virtue, power, and role, produced by converging phallocentric discourses.
With a few exceptions, the same discourses that delineate power and sexuality in Attic Greece operated in Republican Rome, although Roman sexuality was far less idealized. Since male-male love was not idealized, it likely led to the shift in sexual ethics that occurred at the beginning of the common era and in late antiquity. For example, the practice of male-male eroticism during athletics was largely discouraged, as it was thought to encourage effeminacy. Cicero disapproved of gymnasia, stating: “Indeed, this habit [pederasty] seems to me to be born of the Greeks’ gymnasia, wherein the people are licentious and condone illicit passions”
[23]. Yet it is unlikely that he disapproved of all homoerotic behaviour: one should not assume that Cicero, who occupied an elite position, provides an accurate summary of Republican sexual mores. Though it is argued by some that pederasty was imported from Greece
[24], Craig Williams suggests that it was native to Republican Rome
[25]. For the purposes of this discussion, it is enough to note that there was no blanket condemnation of male-male sex acts in the Republic
[26]. So long as a Roman citizen did not violate the body of another citizen, he broke no law
[27]. Republican Rome was intensely patriarchal
[28]. As the
pater familias, a Roman man could do as he wished to prostitutes (male or female) or slaves (male or female). Prostitution was an important part of the Roman economy, and there was even a holiday for
scorti (male prostitutes)
[29]. Employing the services of a prostitute was accepted, so long as one did not indulge excessively
[30]. Attractive and effeminate male slaves were valued commodities, even if some Republican moralists (for instance, Cicero and Cato the Elder) saw them as a sign of licentiousness
[31].
Yet no distinction, in this world driven by the desire to dominate, was made between the gender of object choice: what mattered is whether one played an insertive or receptive role during intercourse
[32]. Just as Roman women had her
pudiciae (virginity), Roman men had their
pudici women. The Roman man’s
pudicus, however, was not violated by intercourse, but through anally penetration. Thus, the
pudici of Roman boys was a constant preoccupation: it was as safeguarded as female chastity
[33]. Plutarch remarks that Roman citizen adolescents wore a phallus shaped apotropaic amulet to advertise their status as free citizens
[34]. In so doing, these adolescents broadcast their right to penetrate others, and to not be penetrated
[35]. Thus, any condemnation of male-male sex acts (or, indeed, sex acts in general in Republican and late Imperial Rome) must be seen in this penetrator/penetrated dichotomy. As in Greece, there was a concern that sexual immorality could lead to vice that could theoretically engender treacherous behaviour. Yet so long as proper
protocols were observed, it was not subject to sanction
. Stuprum was a crime, encompassing a wide range of sexual activity, in which one sexually violated a Roman citizen or his property. One could commit
stuprum cum femina (unlawful sexual activity with a Roman women in the custody of a male
) or stuprum cum puero. (With a young Roman citizen). One could not commit, however,
stuprum cum servo (so long as the slave did not belong to another person),
cum scorto, or even
cum porco[36]. The dubious
yet much discussed
lex Scantinia passed in 154 BCE, which purportedly punished homosexual behaviour, likely punished only offenses that fell under
stuprum[37].
Roman attitudes towards male-male sex acts, however, differed from those of the Greeks. They became less idealized and more frank. Though Virgil attempts to write in the tradition of Homeric love when describing the relationship of Euryalus and Nisus
[38], most depictions of homoeroticism are satirical; for example, Plautus situates it, naturally, in the context of master and slave
[39].
There is little change in the early Empire. If so, then the
lex Iuliae and the reforms of Augustus, which emphasized familial piety and propriety in sexual relations, would have prohibited male-male sex acts
[40]. Images and sculpture played an ever-increasing role in the lives of Romans, and, with the ascendancy of the imperial cult, the myth of Jupiter and Ganymede, with its pederastic overtones, played either a direct or subliminal role in linking the emperor to Jupiter, and thus, to divinity
[41]. During the Julio-Claudinan dynasty, emperors –with the exception of Claudius
–had
delicitiae, (boyfriends) and male-male sex acts were common, and emperors were often noted for their excess and depravity
[42]. Such practices led to a satirical approach to homosexuality, exemplified by the poet Martial (roughly contemporaneous with early Christianities), “Telesphorus
, when you see me and feel me bulging, you ask for much (imagine that I want to deny you: can I?) and unless I swear an oath that I will give it to you, you withhold that butt of yours, that gives you so much power over me”
[43]. This quotation illuminates the nature of Martial’s desire: he is neither afraid of expressing it bluntly, nor of proclaiming what he wants. The attitudes we find in Martial certainly differ from those of Plato in his
Symposium.
Hence, a sizable minority objected to excess associated with homoerotic behaviour, seeing it as a sign of decadence. They wished for the return of an idyllic age, hallmarks of which were gravitas (solemnity) and virtutis (virtue). With the rise of Stoicism came a growing preoccupation
with two virtues bearing on the discussion of homoerotic behaviour: self-mastery (
σωφροσύνη), and care of the self, (or
cura sui)
[44]. This ethos was popular among certain educated elites, but
most especially among the middle and lower classes, who attempted to reclaim their bodies. As the powers of the emperor became more enshrined, the lower classes used control of their bodies as a way of asserting their autonomy. Cantarelili notes that Romans of the lower classes:
“tried to compensate for their social subjection by taking on personal dignity through [self]repression... Socially inferior and subject to commands from on high, the plebeians reacted to oppression in such a way that 'secondary benefits' were extracted from it. By repressing their own behaviour, they acquired dignity... By taking on a repressive moral code, they thus confirmed their status as free beings, citizens, persons capable of selfdetermination. And from this they derived 'symbolic' benefits”
[45]
This change occurred independently of any Christian influence, and was a byproduct of changing social structures.
In addition to anxiety regarding who was ‘on top’ and what social signs that engraved upon one’s body, there was also the added script of intact bodies: Romans equated an intact body with a growing assertion of individual autonomy. In short, though slavery was still ubiquitous throughout the empire, more Romans were becoming people, not commodities. As well, in the first century, there was an increasing preoccupation with ways of seeing. Practices such as
ekphrasis and tales of voyeurism show a particular anxiety that
mimesis, combined with eroticism, could often have disastrous consequences
[46]. Nowhere is this phenomenon more apparent than in the growing preoccupation with the myth of Narcissus and its associated
warnings against autoeroticism. Some Romans came to see the pederasty of the Greeks – and thus male-male sex acts – as a non-generative action: it left one frozen like Narcissus
[47].
Ergo, reproductive sexuality, though not as much in late antiquity, hadgreater significance
[48]. Those desirous of promoting such an
ethos took Plato from his Greek context and found support for their Stoic position in the
Timaeus and
Republic[49]. Any sexuality that was non-reproductive, therefore, became a sign of self-indulgence. Self-indulgence came to be seen as
contra virtutem and, consequently, a mark of effeminacy, since a true Roman man was able to control himself, stated this prominent minority group
[50]. It must be stated, however, that this interpolation of Plato seems to be a later development. In all cases where Plato offers a pro-reproduction opinion, it is part of an ideal model for reality. For example, his program would prevent people who were not members of the aristocracy from breeding. Additionally, it is unlikely that Plato held reproduction as the ultimate ideal because of its treatment in the
Symposium. One must also consider that reproduction only occurs as a byproduct of a postlapsarian condition
[51]. Plato states, “
when male unites with female for procreation the pleasure experienced is held to be due to nature (κατά φύσιν), but contrary to nature (παρά φύσιν) when male mates with male or female with female, and that those first guilty of such enormities were impelled by their slavery to pleasure[52]. Παρά .φύσιν, for Plato, probably did not mean what contra naturan came to mean in Stoic and early Christian contexts. There was not an abstract law which sanctioned the practice; homoerotic sex was unnatural simply because it did not produce offspring. Many human behaviors contravene biological drives; all of these would be grouped under the same category. As well, the term is ambiguous, and therefore, is perhaps more accurately rendered “beyond nature”[53]. This reveals excess and enthrallment, an important undercurrent in pederastic discourse that I have discussed previously. This was not universal. Prostitution was still a pervasive phenomenon; however, added to this discourse was a more developed discourse about controlling one’s body. In a sense, the masculine desire to dominate was now turned upon the self, as well as being projected outward. Those who could not control themselves were now more often labelled with such terms as
cinaedi (faggot) and
pathici (bottoms
)[54]; further, there was now more public recognition and scorn of male prostitutes who played the active role for men who desired to be anally penetrated
[55]. It was also in the first century that the term
molles came to be a taxonomic word, which denoted effeminacy.
Molles did not always denote one who was attracted to men; sometimes it merely suggested excessive grooming practices or a lack of self-mastery. This connection was sometimes, though not exclusively, linked to homoerotic behaviour
[56]. In addition,
Galae (castrated priests of Cibily) became objects of increasing ridicule. There seems to have been an increasing awareness of, and anxiety regarding, gender subversive behavior at the beginning of the common era
[57].
The preoccupation with grooming as a byproduct of the
cura sui discourse shows that the body, for Romans, took on new levels of meaning. One’s body could be violated by another person, but, perhaps more than in the Republican period, one could choose to violate one’s body through excess. Dale Martin notes, therefore, that ancient condemnation of male homoerotic behaviour saw it not as a distinct form of lust, but more as an excess of the universal drive to produce to which everyone was subject
[58]. In sum , it was not “homosexuality” that ancient authors objected to, but excessive sexuality. Polemics against homoerotic behaviour were part of a wider polemic against non-reproductive and non-conjugal intercourse. Furthermore, discourses on slavery now operated on multiple levels. Subjugation by another was a constant fear, yet one could also be subject to one’s passion, as plays such as Seneca’s
Medea attest
[59]. There is debate as to how much these ideas influenced the general Roman population. They were, however, incorporated into the middle Platonist writings of Philo of Alexandria and were also expressed in pseudopigriphal literature. This literature formed a part of Christian corporeal and sexual discourses, and it is to these writings that I shall turn next.
Philo of Alexandria (20 B.C.E.-50 CE) was an influential Middle-Platonic philosopher, who attempted to explain the Hebrew Scriptures through Greek philosophy
[60] He represents an intersection between Hellenistic and Jewish culture
[61]. Drawing on the tradition previously discussed, Philo finds support for the injunction in Genesis to “be fruitful and multiply”
[62], through pro-reproduction interpretations of Plato previously discussed
[63]. Any intercourse that is
παρά πηθσιν should be condemned, since the purpose of sex is reproduction. Philo’s objection to homosexuality also comes from Leviticus (18:22 & 20:13), wherein male-male sex acts are condemned because they likens a man to a woman. As well, Long observes that the priestly schools’ concern for order tried to create a taxonomy of nature; male-male sex acts, which defy these categories, are, therefore, condemned
[64]. Thus, Philo observes
Moreover, another evil... has made its way among and been let loose upon cities, namely, the love of boys... it is natural for those who obey the law to consider such persons worthy of death, since the law commands that the man-woman who adulterates the precious coinage of his nature shall die without redemption... as he is a disgrace to himself, and... to the whole race of [hu]mankind. And let the man who is devoted to the love of boys submit to the same punishment, since he pursues that pleasure which is contrary to nature [παρά πηθσιν], and... [is] a guide and teacher of those greatest of all evils, unmanliness and effeminate lust[65]
Before this quotation, Philo spends a great deal of time lamenting the effeminate style of mens’ hair. Μens’ bodies, for Philo, are a sign of their power and self-control; this power, he holds, must oppose the gentile population.
Jennifer Knust has observed that, during the Diaspora period, Jewish discourses about sexual actions and gender pertained primarily to the Jewish constellation of ideas surrounding the Gentiles. They were weak and self-indulgent; it was , therefore, the responsibility of the just Jewish man to be strong and self-restrained, in order that he may resist them
[66]; For those who were lustful were no better than animals
[67]. Jewish bodies, therefore, were bodies conditioned by resistance. This is not surprising, considering the low position they often occupied within the Roman Empire
[68].
Philo also connects pederasty with idolatry and polemics against autoeroticism and decadence, with which the Jews associated the Greeks. This is perhaps why, in this period, a tradition develops in which Sodom and Gomorrah is linked with homoerotic behaviour
[69]. In conjunction with this development, there was a consensus within pseudopigriphal literature, a collection of texts from this period attributed to various biblical authors, yet filled with first century ideas: for Philo, homoerotic behaviour epitomized Gentile indulgence.
Yet, it should be noted that Philo used writings from the very tradition he detested to formulate his argument. This dialectic of synthesis and antithesis is crucial for understanding Jewish thought and later Christian relations with Greco-Roman culture. While both these minority groups opposed Rome, they inevitably tried to use the same somatic discourses to regain their freedom. This process is exemplified by Paul’s letter to the Romans, particularly Romans 1:20-27.
Saul of Tarsus was a Jewish convert to the early Jesus movement. After persecuting Christians as a Pharisee
[70], Saul seems to have had some sort of experience of Jesus (described in 1 Corinthians 15:3-8), whereupon he began his mission, first to the Jews and then to the Gentiles, after which he changed his name to Paul
[71]. His competence as a Pharisee (cf Galatians 1:13-15) makes it likely that he would have familiarity with both Philo and pseudopigriphal literature. Further, Bowhen Ward suggests that linguistic parallels between these three sources support this view
[72]. One cannot divorce Paul from his Jewish context, nor can one underestimate his familiarity with Hellenistic culture. He was versed in both Jewish exegesis and classical rhetoric.
[73] Paul’s theology is neither Jewish, nor can it properly be called “Christian”, since such an identity did not yet exist
[74]. He thought is unique insofar as it occupied a space of liminality between three groups. For this reason, he is an ideal candidate through which to study converging discourses about the body: he represents both points of contact between Romans, Jews, and early Christians on the topic of sex as well as their points of divergence. Through tracing these intersections one may gain insight into the causes of theological development within Pauline communities, as well as early Christian communities generally.
In 53 CE, Paul addressed a letter to the Christian groups at Rome in order to introduce himself as an apostle and acquire money for the Jesus movement’s mission to Spain
[75]. Amidst the backdrop of conflict between Jews and Romans
[76], Paul writes a letter with the organizing themes of the Fall of the body and its redemption through Christ. This theme of unity is in part a byproduct of circumstance; for some Jews blamed the followers of the Jesus movement for the expulsion of the Jews by Claudius (49 CE), and were now responsible for their community’s reduced social standing and ghettoisation
[77]. Romans 1:27 is merely a small part of the thematics of the body; yet, it exemplifies how somatic discourses can reveal the structure of the letter. I follow James E. Miller when he suggests that Romans 1:26 does not refer to lesbianism, but rather, to anal heterosexual intercourse
[78]. The phenomenon of lesbianism was scant enough in Jewish literature that Paul would have made specific mention of these practices if he intended to condemn them. What Romans 1:26-27 demonstrates is a male somatic discourse regarding the proper function of male sexuality. As well, this passage contains one of Paul’s most common rhetorical styles: that of enthymematism, or the incomplete syllogism
[79]. In order for this to work, the addresser and the addressee have to have common reference points: therefore, much of this passage works on inference and common beliefs amongst the group. Before his discussion of homoerotic behaviour, Paul says that humankind exchanged (
έλλαχαν) the creature for the creator:
For this reason God gave them up (παρεδόκεν αθτοθσ) to [sic.] passions without honor (παθή ατιμίας.) Their women exchanged natural (πηθσικέν) intercourse for unnatural (παρα πηθσιν) and in the same way also the men, giving up natural intercourse with women, were consumed with passion for one another. Men committed shameless acts (παθή ατιμιας) with men and received in their own persons the due penalty for their error (1 Romans 26-27)
I have already suggested that, within the Greco-Roman world, sexual actions wrote a script with various signs, which signified bodies with a particular character. The Christian body, like Roman and Jewish bodies, became a constellation of signs, which, as Jennifer Glancy has shown, took on further meaning in the Christian context
[80]. In Rome it was believed that being a slave gave one a certain
haditas (way of being) of servility and that this trait was primarily evident in bodily actions and physical markings
[81]. Jesters, mannerisms, clothing, and physical markings became tools for proto-Christians that were as important in proclaiming their new status as texts
[82]. From the brief discussion of the
Galae, one can surmise that things associated with male homoerotic behavior and effeminacy (such as castration) would often leave visible signs on the body that could mark a Christian as an other. One’s body had to remain intact, both spiritually and physically, in expectation of the resurrection (Romans 12:1-5)
[83]. While not entirely egalitarian, Paul wished for Christian bodies to reflect the desired harmony, caused by a life following Christ. For a Christian man to be penetrated marked him as a slave. Though Paul is tolerant of slavery (cf Ephesians 6:5), it is unlikely that he viewed the condition of being a slave as a positive state
[84].At any rate, the only person to which a Christian man should be subject was God, or by extension, his appointed rulers (Rom. 13:2). Male-male sex acts, therefore, wantonly placed a sign subjugation on the male body.
This is equally for the true for insertive partner, since bodies may also become enslaved by their passions. The phrase
παθή ατιμίας is particularly illuminating when considering the
cura sui discourse, as well as those of masculinity within 1st century Judaism. For the Stoics, passion that controlled the individual was shameful; particularly shameful were those passions deemed
παρά φύιιν[85].. Paul is perhaps more concerned with bodily excess than the contravention of divine law. He seems to follow Philo when he asserts that the natural use of women is reproduction
[86]. He had a negative attitude toward sex in general, on account of his eschatological views: he saw marriage only as a means of preventing lust (I Cor. 7:1). Non-reproductive sex acts were self-indulgent and created a prurient body. By becoming subject to one’s passion, one lost self-control and became effeminate and worthy of censure. As we have seen, Jews often associated this fault with the Gentiles. Similarly, Paul believed that one of the key distinctions between followers of Jesus and followers of the world was their attitude toward their bodies
[87]. In Romans 8, Paul develops this body/soul dualism further in verses 11-14, as well as in 1 Corinthians 15:44: when describing the mechanics of the resurrection, he states, “
It is sown in a physical body (σόμα πσθψηικον), it is raised a spiritual body (σόμα πνεθματικον). If there is a physical body, there is also a spiritual body”. Thus, enslavement to the flesh equals death[88]; for only flesh perfected by the Spirit may rise in his eschatological schema. In this discourse, since sexual actions are entirely somatic, and strong undesired emotions equal slavery, improper sexual acts mark one’s body as of the flesh. These marks of inconstancy and subordination are the penalties for their error.
This same somatic dualism is one of the chief ways in which Paul understands humankind’s relationship with God. Though he negates the body, he also states that it is the “temple of God” (1 Corinthians 6:19). The body, therefore, has some intermediary function with God in Pauline thought; it should, however, always play a subordinate role to God.. Though Paul likely knew about other forms of male homoerotic behaviour, it is likely that pederasty was the one that captivated his imagination, since it also captivated his Jewish contemporaries. In light of what has been said regarding pederasty and the idealization of the male body, I agree with Dale Martin when he suggests that the polemic against idolatry is general, and not part of a larger Fall narrative
[89]. Further, I would suggest that idolatry has greater specificity. In the case of male-male eroticism, given the polemics against autoeroticism and pederasty in both pagan and Jewish discourse, Paul is likely suggesting that the veneration of a male body (which is similar to one’s own) is equivalent to self-worship. It is therefore one of the highest forms of idolatry, which leads to lust. In a narrative that is purportedly about the Fall, Paul mentions neither Adam; nor Eve; nor a garden. Alternatively, this passage may be better understood as a polemic against Greco-Roman practices. For the body links one to God in this discourse; consequently, by turning to another body one turns to another god. The term
παρά φύσιν connotes access: because the Gentiles worshipped the flesh, it has harmed their relationship with God is now harmed . Christians, therefore, had to simultaneously minimize the importance of other bodies while valuing the integrity of their own; for this body was a sign of their relationship to God.
All Christians, thought Paul, though they may not be free in this life, should live in hope of the resurrection and the life to come. This eschatological expectation organized the Jewish and Pauline
ethos and teleology
[90]. There had to be trust in the community and as we have seen, sexual indulgence is often linked with treachery. Therefore, all members of the movement must be one corporal entity; if any part of that entity was impure, it harmed the whole. Paul elevates somatic discourse to the communal level in 1 Corinthians 5:1, when he says that no
πορνία (sexual immorality) cannot be tolerated among Christians: for one corrupt member of the body harms the whole. Ergo, polemics against homoerotic behaviour should be seen with respect to this corporate metaphor and its subsequent anxieties about social pollution, since homoerotic behaviour and subsequent idolatry was a sign that could potentially mark the whole community.
Margaret McDonald observes that Roman critiques of Christianity, as effeminate and as a phenomenon popular among women influenced its internal rhetoric and theology
[91]. Paul’s well-known preoccupation with gender norms (I Cor. 11:3-7 & 13 -15) is a consequence of his concerns about women’s deportment within the larger culture. Mary O’Connor also suggests that the anxiety over the appearance of men were caused by fears of homoerotic behavior and effeminacy within the Christian community
[92]. Consequently, one ought to read the words
μαλακόι (soft ones) and
άσενοκόιαι (those who lie with men as prostitutes
[93]) as expanding the list of those who will be excluded from the kingdom of heaven (I Cor. 6:9) as part of the wider attempt to masculinize, and consequently legitimize, individual Christian bodies and their collective body. Effeminacy, nor anything else that threatened to compromise the face of the Jesus movement, could be tolerated, since early Christians were continually scrutinized by Roman and subject to censure
[94]. In this society obsessed with honour and shame arose first century Judaism and early Christianity. By making Christian bodies show self-control, Paul attempted to create a movement as legitimate as Stoicism
[95].
This would later help Christianity gain acceptance within the empire. Nevertheless, sexual and somatic rhetoric were also divisive tools used to create boundaries between early Christians and their Greco-Roman (and later Jewish) environment
[96]. The very polemics used against proto-Christians were now turned against their accusers. This was an interesting move, which indicates how a discourse designed to subjugate can often be appropriated and reinterpreted by the subjugated, so that oppression becomes subversion
[97]. This was particularly relevant when considering that Romans, as Watson notes, is perhaps the beginning of a long transition from reform movement within Judaism and to a distinct Christian sect
[98]. This growing movement used notions about the body from its environment to create a model of, and a model for, reality
[99]. Through somatic rhetoric, proto-Christians were able to differentiate themselves from the world to which they were becoming increasingly hostile
[100]. Symbolic convergence theory is a modern perspective on rhetoric that can help explain the function of somatic discourse. It states that addressor and addressee participate in a mutually agreed-upon fantasy with group specific signs. If this process is successful, subject and object create their own symbolic universe
[101]. The rhetoric of Paul, therefore, uses the body as the focal point of the Christian universe, whether it is experienced now or compared to the body of Christ.
Pauline polemics against homoerotic behavior are, therefore, a byproduct of, and reaction to, Greco-Roman culture. This is not a new conclusion. What is perhaps something new in this long debated issue is the role signs and Greco-Roman attitudes had in the evangelism of the Church and the formation of its self-concept. Also at issue here are modern methodological questions related to sexual behavior, group identity, and the formation of New Testament literature. What, if anything, new does the letter of the Romans say about homoerotic behavior? I submit that its innovation, not just on homoeroticism, but on a wide variety of topics, is how it approaches the subject through a multilevel discourse about bodies. Whether by acknowledgment, negation or outright disdain, Paul has a fundamentally corporate way of understanding theology, sociology, sexual behavior and the human being. Through a complex process of reinvention and reactionary semioses, Paul tells his followers to, “put on the armor of God, so that you may stand against the devil [...] in this present darkness (Eph: 10–12). What is the armor of God? Why, it is their very skin. An analysis of Romans 1:26-27, therefore, provides insight into the relationship between synthesis and antithesis in the formation of proto-Christian belief.
[1] Jamke Highwater,
The Mythology of Transgression: Homosexuality As Metaphor. (New York: Oxford University press, 1997), 54
[2][2] Niki, Sullivan.
A Critical Introduction to Queer Theory. (Edinburgh: Edinburgh UP, 2003) 4.. I do not suggest, however, that there were not persons whose primary sexual inclination was toward their own gender, merely that this was not a matter of ontology. For example, although the myth of Aristophanes has been taken by some to indicate a proto-notion of sexual orientation within Greece and, later, Hellenised Rome (cf Du Toit, Andrie et.al.
Focusing on Paul: Persuasion and Theological Design in Romans and Galatians. (Berlin: Walter de Gruyter, 2007), 288.) this is unlikely. Aristophanes explains why some individuals have predilections for one another, but that does not mean that they have a fixed orientation. Sexual practices, when discussed at all, were viewed either in terms of proper execution or degree of self-control. Both of these categories could pertain to, though were not necessarily limited to, ancient notions of gender. Sexual orientation is a distinctly modern paradigm from which it is often difficult to escape (cf Eve Sedgewick.
Epistomology of the Closet. (University of California Press, 1990), 8.)
[4] In brief, by sexuality I mean an ontological category by which a person’s identity is defined and circumscribed by the nature of her/his object choice. Such a choice comes to influence all other aspects of her/his life and becomes the constitutive part of the individuals identity. See David Halperin,
one hundred Years of Homosexuality and Other Essays on Greek Love. (New York: Routledge, 1990) 15-26.
[5] Derived from from a Greek noun and the third person present active participial from of the verb “to love”, which is the compound of two Greek words,
παίσ (boy) and
έραστέσ (lover). It is important to note that the word
παίσ was used to describe someone who had reached puberty – and often times sexual maturity – and could even generally mean one who plays the receptive role during male-male intercourse Dover, 12
[12] One need only look at examples from Attic pottery, where almost all scenes of sexual liaisons – either male or female – have to do with power dynamics between pursuer and pursued Most sexual positions, whether same-sex or cross-sex, are from the rear, though this does not always indicate anal intercourse Dover, 91-100
[14] Roland Long.
Men, Homosexuality, and the Gods: an Exploration into the Religious Significance of Male Homosexuality in a Global Perspective. (New York: HarperCollins 2004), 32.
[17] Thomas F. Scanlon,
Eros & Greek Athletics. (Oxford Oxfordshire: Oxford UP , 2002), 64-98.
[20] Plato,
Symposium,
189c-189d to 193d-193e [21] Eva Cantarelilie,
Bisexuality In the Ancient World. (New Haven: Yale University press 2002), 58-59.
[23] “Mihi quidem haec in Graecorum gymnasiis nata consuetudo videtur, in quibus isti liberi et concessi sunt amores”. Cicero,
Tusculanae Disputationes 4.70 My translation ☺
[24] Lewis, Compton.
Homosexuality and Civilization. (Massachusetts: Harvard UP, 2003) 79.
: [28] R. H. Barrow
the Romans. (London: Penguin, 1949) 45.
[31] Cato’s condemnation of Lucius Flaminius is not concerned with his homosexual affair
per se; rather,
Cato objects to the extravagant amount of money the man spent throwing his boyfriend a party Surely, if the most prudish of all Republican moralists had nothing to say on this topic, though he condemned a whole range of other behaviours, there had to be acceptance of male-male sex within certain contexts Cicero,
De Senectute 12.42, William Armistead Falconer trans. (London: Heinmann., 1959), 16-20; cf also Cantarelilie, 101.
[34] Plutarch,
Roman Questions 288A, in Thomas Hubbarb (ed.)
Homosexuality in Greece and Rome: a Sourcebook of Basic Documents. (London: University of California press, 2003), 315-316.
[36] Cf. Williams, 98; John Boswell,
Christianity, Social Tolerance, and Homosexuality. Chicago: (University of Chicago press, 1980), 63. Ergo, when Valerius Maximus writes various male-male sex scandals in the Roman army, he is concerned with the violation of free citizens., 6.1.7-6.1.10. in Hubbarb (ed), 314-315
[37] Williams, 120. Less likely is Cantarelilie’s view that the
lex scantinia also punished
molles (passive homosexuals); even granting this, it would still fit into the penetrator/penetrated dichotomy previously discussed. More on sexual slang will be presented below.
[38] Virgil,
Aeneid 5.293-296, 5.315-344 in Hubbarb (ed), 361-362
[39] Plautus,
The Rope, 1073-1075 in Hubbarb (ed), 317-318
[40] Paul Zanker “The Augustan Program of Cultural Renewal” in
The Power of Images in the Age of Augustus, trans. Alan Shapiro (Ann Arbour: University of Michigam Press, 1988), 104-121.
[41] John R. Clarke, “Everyman, Everywoman, and the Gods,” in John R. Clarke,
Art in the Lives of Ordinary Romans (Berkeley: University of California, 2003) 82
[42]One need only think of Suetonius’ outlandish report of the emperor Tiberius retreat at Capri Suetonius,
Tiberius, 43-44, in Hubbarb (ed), 387-388.
[43] Cum me velle vides tentumque, Telesphore, sentis, magna rogas—puta me velle negare: licet?— et nisi iuratus dixi "dabo," subtrahis illas, permittunt in me quae tibi multa, natis Martial, 11.58 1-4, tr. Williams
, 33.
[44] Williams, 126; Michel Foucault,
The History of Sexuality, v.3. (New York: Vintage Books, 1988), 37-69.
[46] Jas Elsner. “Between Mimesis and Divine Power: Visuality in the Greco-Roman World” in Robert S. Nelson, ed.
Visuality before and beyond the Renaissance: Seeing as Others Saw (Cambridge, U.K.: Cambridge University Press, 2000), 55.
[49] Timaeus 30a-b; and
Republic 457d-461c
[50] Roy Bowhen Ward, “Why Unnatural? The Tradition behind Romans 1:26-27"
(Harvard Theological Review, 90, 3, 1997), 267-273
[54] These terms are difficult to render into English
[58] Dale B. Martin, “Heterosexism and the Interpretation of Romans 1:18-32" in Matthew Kuefler (ed),
The Boswell Thesis: Essays on Christianity, Homosexuality, and Social Tolerance. (Chicago: University of Chicago press, 2006), 133-140.
[59] John G. Fitch ed & tr,
Seneca VII Tragedies. (Massachusetts: Harvard U Press, 2002), 150-400; 750-1023.
[62]The New Oxford Annotated Bible with the Apocrypha, Augmented Third Edition, New Revised Standard Version. 3 ed. (New York: Oxford University Press,, 2007) Gen. 1:28. All other biblical citation, unless otherwise noted, are from this edition, and will hereafter be noted in the text in parentheses.
[65] Philo,
The Special laws 3.8 in Charles Yonge,
The Works of Philo. (Peabody: Hendrickson Pubs, 1993), 37-39. For further passages on the subject, see Philo,
Abra 35-37..
[66] Jennifer Knust,
Abandoned to Lust: Sex Slander an Ancient Christianity. (New York: Columbia University press, 2006), 57-64.
[68] Jerry L. Daniel, “Anti-Semitism in the Hellenistic-Roman Period”
The Journal of Biblical Literature 98/1 (1979), 45-60
[69] Long, 65, cf Naphtali,
Testament of Naphtali, 3:3-5. and also polemics agains homoerotic behavior t
Pseudo-Phocylides, 189-192 and the
Sibylline Oracles, 3.184-86, 596, 764; 5.166, 387, 430
[70] Alan S. Segal “Paul’s Jewish presuppositions” in James Dunn ed.,
The Cambridge Companion to St. Paul. New York: Cambridge University press, 2003, 161.
[73] Ibid, 165; John Moores,
Wrestling with the Rationality in Romans 1-8: in a New Perspective. (New York: Cambridge University press, 1995), 6.
[75] Robert Jewitt “Romans” in James Dunn ed.,
The Cambridge Companion to St. Paul. (New York: Cambridge University press, 2003), 93.
[78] Miller, 1. This interpretation is also attested in patristic literature
[79] Moores, 7
. A common example being “If God is for us, then who may be against us?” (Romans 8:28), where the implied statement is something like “If God is for us, and God is invincible, then nothing can stop us” The common assumption is that God is invincible, yet, it is not stated.
[80] Jennifer Glancy,
Corporal Knowledge. New York: Oxford University Press, USA, 2010, 24., especially when Early Christians started seeing their bodies as signs of life in Christ
[83] Jerome Murphy O’Connor “1 and 2 Corinthians” in James Dunn ed.,
The Cambridge Companion to St. Paul. (New York: Cambridge University press, 2003), 83.
[87] Snyder, Graydon F. “Major Motifs in the Interpretation of Paul’s Letter’s to the Romans”, in Sheila McGuinn (ed).
Celebrating Romans: a Temple for Pauline Theology: Essays in Honor of Robert Jowett. Michigan: University of Michigan press, 2003.
[89] Martin, 131;
Pace, Toit, 284
[90]Tom Darby,
The Feast, Meditations on Politics and Time. (Toronto: University of Toronto Press,1982), 104.
[91],
Early Christian Women and Pagan Opinion (New York:
Cambridge UP , 1996.) 126.
[93] Here I follow Long, 86; Martin, 136; and Boswell, 106
.
[97], Bruce. Lincoln
Discourse and the Construction of Society. (Oxford Oxfordshire: Oxford UP , 1989.) 4
[98] Francis Watson.,
Paul, Judaism and the Gentiles: beyond the New Perspective. (New York: Cambridge UP) 23.
[101] William Wullner, “Reading Romans in context” in Sheila McGuin (ed),
Celebrating Romans: a Temple for Pauline Theology: Essays in Honor of Robert Jowett. (Michigan: University of Michigan press, 2003), 109-113.
