Judah (conventionally “Jude”), traditionally understood to be a brother of Jesus, makes an explicit statement about the sexual deviance of the notorious people of Sodom. What exactly did he have in mind? What does his particular use of language refer to? And why does he choose the phraseology he does?
As Judah begins to unpack his central theme – namely, that his readers should be on guard against false teachers among them and contend for the faith that has been entrusted to them by an earlier generation – he writes a lengthy sentence, giving three examples from the distant past of groups that have deviated significantly from God’s ways and perished. (In English translations, commonly the sentence is broken up, to make for easier reader processing.) He writes (Jude 5–7), “5 Now I desire to remind you, though you are fully informed, that the Lord, who once for all saved a people out of the land of Egypt, afterward destroyed those who did not believe. 6 And the angels who did not keep their own position, but left their proper dwelling, he has kept in eternal chains in deepest darkness for the judgment of the great Day. 7 Likewise, Sodom and Gomorrah and the surrounding cities, which, in the same manner as they, indulged in sexual immorality and pursued unnatural lust, serve as an example by undergoing a punishment of eternal fire” (NRSV).
Judah makes it explicit that the inhabitants of Sodom and Gomorrah and their environs were sexually immoral. No new information here, for researchers or anyone else. However, the question of just what kind of sexual immorality is envisioned is beset with some difficulty, owing to the turn of phrase ἀπελθοῦσαι ὀπίσω σαρκὸς ἑτέρας (apelthousai opiso sarkos heteras) in Jude 7. The New Revised Standard Version renders this, we see above, as “pursued unnatural lust.” Is this sufficient? At the crux here is the term “other flesh” (σάρξ ἑτέρα – sarx etera). But the whole phrase is important in this case. What other translations are possible? Or, more pointedly, what translation would be most conducive to communicating the full sense of the phrase?
In his commentary on Jude, notable New Testament scholar Joerg Frey claims that “the desire for ‘different flesh’ seems to refer to sexual relations between angels and human beings” (page 91). How likely is this interpretation? Prof. Frey adduces two principal lines of reasoning here. First, he alleges, homosexuality is not in view in the biblical text itself (Gen 19), nor in most of the history of interpretation of this passage among ancient Jews. Second, he finds a certain parsimony in the correlation between the angel-human sexuality of the waywardness of the Watchers (the term commonly used for the fallen angels mentioned in Gen 6.1–4) and the proposed angel-human sexuality of the people of Sodom. Here Prof. Frey appeals to a perceived economy of explanation, given the explicit correlation that Judah makes between examples two and three in his triad of warnings of judgement from the distant past.
Prof. Frey has done many good things for this scholar, so I owe to him it to address his claim, respectfully and in some detail. I gladly do this for him and all who are interested.
First, I observe that the key to understanding what the author of our text has in mind is to pay careful attention to the wording. I note that the line of reasoning adopted by Prof. Frey does not in fact give substantial attention to what is said and how.
Second, in line with this approach, I note that the subject of the third example (Jude 7) is not merely the people of Sodom. Rather, Judah refers expressly to Sodom and Gomorrah, by name. This is actually how the wickedness of the region is introduced in Genesis, be reference to God’s destruction of Sodom and Gomorrah, specifically (Gen 13.10). The reference of the two cities, as a pair, occurs frequently in the Tanach (Old Testament), especially when referring to their proverbial wickedness, generally, (for example, Gen 18.20; Isa 1.10; Jer 23.14) or their destruction (Gen 19.24, 28; Deut 29.22; Isa 13.19; Jer 49.18). But the people of Sodom and Gomorrah are not indicted together in the specific instance of God’s messengers visiting Lot in Sodom and being assaulted by the citizens there. Rather, only the people of Sodom are involved in that instance (Gen 19.1–22).
In fact, Judah speaks of Sodom and Gomorrah and the surrounding cities. Actually, the phrasing used is more precise than even that. Judah speaks of Sodom and Gomorrah and the cities surrounding these two cities (Jude 7): Σόδομα καὶ Γόμορρα καὶ αἱ περὶ αὐτὰς πόλεις (Sodoma kai Gomorra kai ai peri autas poleis). The phrase “surrounding them” (περὶ αὐτάς – peri autas) means that the additional cities lie in the vicinity around both Sodom and Gomorrah, not just Sodom.
We know the name of these cities. Four cities – Sodom, Gomorrah, Admah and Zeboiim – are all destroyed. (The fifth, implicated city in the Jordan River’s plain, named Zoar, is spared, on account of Lot’s petition – see Gen 19.18–22.) The four cities are mentioned by name in Genesis (Gen 10.19; 14.2, 8), as well as in Deuteronomy (Deut 29.22). In Genesis 10 the cities are introduced, as descendants of Ham, through Canaan. But there is no narrative. In Genesis 14 the cities, along with Zoar, the fifth city, are mentioned in the context of a battle. In Deuteronomy 29 the idea is that this territory’s inhabitants’ sins, collectively, are so great that they incur divine wrath, resulting in widespread devastation. Their destruction is narrated, in brief. This provides the sort of conceptual framework within which Judah draws upon the four cities – great sin and destruction.
What are the implications of this phraseology: “Sodom and Gomorrah and the cities surrounding them”? Simply put, Sodom is not squarely in the center. Rather, Sodom and Gomorrah are. Or, more precisely, all the cities involved are the subject of the sentence. Thus, they are each indicted by Judah’s description of the sexual immorality. But in the story in Genesis 19, as I have noted above, only the men of Sodom are guilty of making a threat of same-sex sexual assault on the angelic visitors of Lot (who themselves look like men). This makes sense, since the angels come to Sodom to investigate the city, as a case in point, to confirm or disconfirm the cry about the whole region that has come up to God (Gen 18.21). So, even in Genesis, the sexual deviance in the city may well be taken as an example – albeit a salient one – of the sexual sins of the whole region. (In Gen 19, Sodom also evidences its inhospitality, hatred of humans and further sins – a host of deviances that are stacked up one on the other. But, for Judah, sexual sins are front and center.) This appears to be the best explanation of Judah’s characterization of the region, too: namely, all the cities are guilty of similar sexual activity and appetites. For Judah, Sodom, Gomorrah, Admah and Zeboiim’s sexual sins do not correspond directly to the specific incidence narrated in Gen 19, on the eve of the great destruction, but fit a conception of on-going patterns of sinful, sexual appetites and behaviour. This correspondence is confirmed by other factors, which I will now address.
Third, Judah refers to the pursuit of, as noted, “other flesh.” What does “flesh” (σάρξ – sarx) typically refer to, when it comes to persons? Humans? Otherworldly beings? At its basic sense, the word σάρξ (sarx) refers to, as one dictionary puts it, “the Muscular Part of the Human or Animal Body” (Theology Dictionary of the New Testament).
When sarx refers to an individual or group of individuals, mortals are in view. Humans are commonly such mortals. For example, a prophecy in Isaiah, cited in Luke 3.6, refers to “all flesh,” by which it is meant all humans. Isaiah 40.5 reads: “The Presence of the LORD shall appear, And all flesh, as one, shall behold— For the LORD Himself has spoken” (JPS). The phrase in Hebrew (כל בשר – kol basar) is rendered in Greek, in the ancient translation that is called either the Old Greek version or Septuagint version, as πᾶσα σάρξ – pasa sarx. The meaning is the same: “all flesh,” wherein “flesh” means, by extension, “human.” Luke 3.6 uses the same phraseology for “all flesh” as what appears in the Old Greek of Isaiah 40.5.
That example is not an isolated one. Many instances of “flesh” in the Scriptures have the same sense. (Note that the Hebrew בשר [basar] is commonly rendered by Greek σάρξ [sarx] in the Tanach [Hebrew Old Testament] and Old Greek version, respectively.) God is grieved that all flesh, meaning all humans, have corrupted their ways (Gen 6.12). Jeremiah announces that God has a legal case against the nations and, stated in parallel, he is engaging in judicial process against all flesh, meaning all humans (Jer 25.31). Even when other living creatures are meant, earth-bound, mortal creatures are in mind. God determines to wipe out all “flesh” – here it is meant animals and humans, with the exception of those in the ark – with the flood (Gen 6.13, 17). God provides food, faithfully, to all flesh, meaning all earth-bound living creatures (Psa 136.25 – or 135.25 in the Septuagint).
The point that a sense of mortality is often attached to “flesh” (in both Hebrew and Greek) brings to the fore the way that the term is used in conscious contradistinction to other terms. The Psalmist boasts confidence in God, the immortal one, eschewing the potential threat of danger from “flesh,” meaning mortal humans (Psa 56.4–5). A similar contrast occurs in Jesus’ affirmation of Peter: “And Jesus answered him, ‘Blessed are you, Simon son of Jonah! For flesh and blood has not revealed this to you, but my Father in heaven’” (Matt 16.17; NRSV). Simon did not learn that Jesus is the Messiah from human-based instruction (“flesh and blood”) but from divine revelation (“my Father in heaven”). The mortal, “flesh,” is contrasted with the immortal, God. Even when “flesh” means something more specific, like “the body” (of a human), it may still be contrasted in context with God, who is immortal. Isaiah 10.18–19 makes this mortal/immortal contrast, speaking of God as a fire and the soul and body (“flesh”) of humans as an object that God can and will destroy.
Outside of biblical texts, too, the language of “flesh” as earth-bound, mortal humans, in contrast to otherworldly, immortal beings is found in ancient Jewish thought. 1 Enoch 1.9 refers to God and myriads of his “holy ones” (meaning celestial beings aligned with God, such as angels) coming together to earth, as God convicts “all flesh” (meaning humans) for the wicked deeds and words of humans.
On occasion, other-worldly beings, too, may be denoted by the term “flesh.” Ezekiel 10.22 speaks of the Cherubim’s “flesh.” But on account of its rarity, this instance stands out and grabs one’s attention (just one instance is found in TDNT).
The consideration of “flesh” (σάρξ – sarx) alone makes it highly likely that Judah is referring to human beings when he speaks of “other flesh.” The picture of citizens of four cities being involved in the same pursuit (point two, above) only strengthens this reading. For, if four cities are pursuing “other flesh,” then the fact that angels (who appear as humans) are in the specific scene described in Gen 19 is not of paramount importance and, as a result, the already highly improbable reading that “flesh” here means something like “the body” of immortal angels becomes categorically implausible. But if “flesh” refers to mortal humans, which already it seems extremely likely, then what humans are in mind? And how are they “other”? That is to say, if the people of Sodom, Gomorrah, Admah and Zeboiim pursued certain flesh in favour of other flesh, what flesh were they rejecting in order to obtain “other flesh”? This question leads us to a fourth point.
Fourth, what is the best understanding of “other flesh”? The word ἕτερος (eteros) here rendered in English as “other” sometimes has the same force as the word ἄλλος (allos), meaning “one more” or “another” or, generally, an item that is similar too, but distinct from, another item mentioned. Alternatively, ἕτερος (eteros) can indicate an item that is dissimilar in kind or class from some other item or items mentioned – in this case we might render the word with “different” (or “another”) in English. But there is a more precise sense that is likely felt here. The general principal is that a word (lexeme) does not derive its specific sense independent from its context. And in the phrase in question (Jude 7), the citizens of the four wicked cities are leaving (ἀπελθοῦσα – apelthousa) something (unspecified) in order to follow after “other flesh.” So the adjective “other” corresponds to the implied object of the verb ἀπελθεῖν (apelthein – “to leave”). In short, the cities’ citizens are leaving one flesh – which presumably they have been with or attached to for some measure of time – for “other” flesh.
This sort of usage of “other” (combined with the notion of abandoning X in order to pursue Y) is rife in the Tanach (Old Testament), also in the New Testament. For example, the people of Israel abandon their own God in order to follow “other” gods, who do not belong to them. As for the language used in such contexts, Hebrew typically will employ “other” (אחר – acher), which in turn will commonly be rendered by ἕτερος (eteros). Judges 2.11–12 serves as a case in point: “And the Israelites did what was offensive to the LORD. They worshiped the Baalim and forsook the LORD, the God of their fathers, who had brought them out of the land of Egypt. They followed other gods, from among the gods of the peoples around them, and bowed down to them; they provoked the LORD” (JPS). The people of Israel forsake the God of their nation in order to worship the gods of other nations. They follow, more specifically, “other gods.”
The words in Hebrew make the contrast clear – the “God of their fathers” (אלהי אבותם – elohei avotam) is replaced by “other gods” (אלהים אחרים – elohim acherim). The words translated “God” and “gods” are in fact the same word (in Hebrew what is, in fact, a plural noun is often rendered as “God,” when the context is appropriate, simply because English does not naturally have a language feature whereby a singular, divine being would be referred to in the plural). The class (“god” = אלהים – elohim) is the same. The modifying word makes all the difference: “other” (אחר – acher) means here, by extension of the basic meaning, “foreign” or “not belonging to (the party in question).” The “gods” are “other” because they are not Israel’s – Adonai is Israel’s god.
The same factors are, essentially, at work in Greek, too. (The one difference is that “God” is represented by a singular noun and “gods” by a plural noun.) The Israelites forsake the Lord, “the God of their fathers” (θεὸς τῶν πατέρων αὐτῶν – theos ton pateron auton) in order to follower “other gods” (θεοὶ ἕτεροι – theoi eteroi). The class (“god” = θεός – theos) is the same. The modifying word (“other”: ἕτερος – eteros) indicates that the gods that are newly being followed do not belong to the Israelites.
This is the best sense of what is happening with the term “other” in Jude 7. The citizens of the city are abandoning flesh that rightfully belongs to them for flesh that does not belong to them. The men are abandoning their wives for “other” sexual encounters. What could Judah possibly have in mind, when saying they are “other”? One possibility is other peoples’ wives (even one another’s wives). Another possibility is same-sex sexual activity. But angels are not a viable possibility. For angels are not of the same class (“flesh” meaning “mortal” or “human”).
A number of factors support the idea that same-sex sexuality is in mind. There is an explicit correlation between verses six and seven. That is, the citizens of Sodom and Gomorrah and the surrounding cities are guilty of sin in a way that resembles what the fallen angels did in an earlier period. Our author writes (Jude 7): “Likewise, Sodom and Gomorrah and the surrounding cities, which, in the same manner as they, indulged in sexual immorality and pursued unnatural lust….” The principal aspect of correspondence, marked by the particle ὡς (os), rendered in English as “likewise,” brings together the two, related, on-going judgements that the fallen angels and the citizens of Sodom and environs have experienced. (The angels are kept chained in darkness; Sodom’s people are completely obliterated, with no descendants until Judah’s day.) The other part of the correspondence, marked by “in the same manner as they” (τὸν ὅμοιον τρόπον τούτοις – ton omoion tropon toutois), pertains to sexual deviance. But how are the two groups related?
They both abandon one thing, which suites them, for something that does not suite them. In this they choose wilfully, against God’s design. The angels abandoned (Greek: ἀπολιπεῖν – apolipein) their “proper dwelling” (ἴδιον οἰκητήριον – idion oiketerion) in heaven, in order to possess, it is implied, “houses” on earth. A “house” (both in Hebrew and Greek) can be both a physical dwelling and a family. The angels choose “houses” – in the basic and extended sense of the term – on earth, by cohabitating with human females. They crossed a boundary God had made between heaven and earth. And, more specifically, they crossed a sexual boundary God established. Angels and humans are not to have sexual encounters. It is unnatural and forbidden.
In the same way, a clear parallel would be that the men of Sodom, Gomorrah, Admah and Zeboiim abandoned their own wives, proper flesh, to pursue “other” flesh, sexual encounters that are forbidden for being unnatural and not part of God’s design. Theoretically, such sexual activities might be incestuous. These would be unnatural. However, given the clear precedent in Gen 19 (a case in point for a larger, envisioned problem in the region), same-sex sexuality is the most probable option here.
This reading of “other” as meaning “not belonging to” those involved and, correspondingly, something unnatural fits with ancient Jewish conceptions of homosexuality. Many Jews that were contemporaries of Judah (and Jesus) spoke about the topic of same-sex sexuality. They all disapproved of this form of sexuality. And, among their lines of reasoning, Jews commonly claimed that homosexuality was unnatural and, therefore, must be forbidden. (We see this reasoning in 2 Enoch 10.4 (longer recension), Pseudo-Phocylides 190–192, Josephus, Against Apion 2.199, Philo, On the Life of Abraham 135 and elsewhere.) This is a line of reasoning that Paul clearly resonates with (Romans 1.26–27). It would make sense if that same concept is undergirding Judah’s conception of “other” here.
Fifth, the actual activity of the people of Sodom, Gomorrah, Admah and Zeboiim is pertinent. What does it mean that they “go after” certain carnal relations? The concept represented by this phraseology is commonly one of following, meaning determined pursuit of or commitment to something.
In the Tanach (Old Testament), also in the Old Greek translation of it, and in the New Testament, a verb of motion (different verbs might be employed) and “after” indicates this sort of animated, intentional following. In Greek, a particular preposition for “after” commonly appears (Greek: ὀπίσω – opiso). The example from Judges, cited above, can prove illustrative again. “They followed other gods” (Judges 2.11; JPS) means the Israelites committed themselves to these false gods. The phrasing in Hebrew reads, more literally, “and they went after other gods” (וילכו אחרי אלהים אחרים – vayelchu acharei elohim acherim). Here the verb for motion (the most basic word for “go”: הלך – halach) is accompanied by the preposition “after” (אחרי – acherei). This is the typical sort of phraseology used to express this concept. The Old Greek translation uses similar phraseology: a basic word for “go” (πορευθῆναι – poreuthenai) is accompanied by “after” (ὀπίσω – opiso). This, too, is typical phrasing for the concept in question. The Greek phrase is a very wooden rendering of the Hebrew one (Greek has “and they went after other gods”: καὶ ἐπορεύθησαν ὀπίσω θεῶν ἑτέρων – kai eporeuthesan opiso theon eteron). Here the commitment is clearly a sort of alliance or decided preference for something (over and against something else).
Other examples could be added. For the present, I will just cite one more where the Old Greek translation of the Tanach employs both terms in question in Jude 7, namely “after” (Greek: ὀπίσω – opiso) and “other” (ἕτερος – eteros) where a contrast between what is properly one’s own and what does not belong to one is found (Deut 8.19).
In Genesis 19 we see a clear preference for same-sex sexuality over male-to-female sexual activity. When Lot offers his daughters to the horde of crazed men – whether this offer is real and panicked, a tragic move of cowardice, or sardonic and meant as a shock to “wake” the men out of their frenzy, I leave for the time being – they refuse it, in preference for the male guests. But the contrast is not merely between hosts and guests. For the mass of Sodom’s men threaten that, after they are finished with his guests, they will turn to assault Lot, too (Gen 19.9). And they threaten Lot alone here – not, say, Lot and his daughters. So the men’s appetite for other men is persistent. The sons-in-law of Lot, too, prefer to participate in the group’s indulgence of anticipated male flesh over and against being with their lawful, female companions in marriage and escape the impending doom (19.12–14).
And, given the broader context in Genesis, the preference for same-sex sexuality comes into greater focus. For it will not be forgotten that Lot’s uncle, at the time named Abram, had rescued all the wives of Sodom’s men from captivity by foreign overlords, prevented their deportation and returned them safely to their married counterparts (Gen 14.21–24). But, later, in Gen 19 these same men have no regard for their natural marriage partners, eschewing them for “other” flesh, namely men that have innocently entered their domain. And all the city’s men – the text is insistent and emphatic about this point – are present and participating in the heinous threats against Lot and his male guests (Gen 19.4).
Given this rejection of male-female sexuality for male-male sexuality in Gen 19 (presented as a microcosm of a larger problem), Judah’s characterization of the cities as having a decided preference for and commitment to (“following” / “going after” / “pursuing”) “other flesh” makes sense. The men in all these cities, as the text of Genesis shows for Sodom, prefer male-male sexuality. Many may be married to women – how else would the population continue without male-to-female sexuality? – but what they really want is male flesh. They prefer this, as a society.
This understanding of Judah’s text has the added benefit that it corresponds to the views of numerous ancient Jewish authors and preserved traditions, which all affirm that Sodom was guilty of same-sex sexuality, understood as something forbidden. (Relevant here are, for example, Philo, On the Life of Abraham 135, Josephus, Jewish Antiquities 1.194, 2 Enoch 10.4 (longer recension), Testament of Naphtali 3.3–4, Sifra on Lev 18.3.)
A concluding consideration regards the pair of concepts pertaining to abandoning X and following Y. I have mentioned it briefly, above. But this concept (and related expressions of it in both in Hebrew and Greek) commonly pertains to abandoning commitment to one thing for a decided commitment to something distinct. Again, our example from Judges 2.11–12 hits the spot: the Israelites “forsook” (Hebrew: עזב – azav) God in order to “go after” (הלך אחרי – halach acharei) other gods. The Old Greek translation renders similar phraseology: God’s people “forsook” (ἐγκαταλιπεῖν — egkatalipein) him in order to “go after” (πορευθῆναι ὀπίσω – poreuthenai opiso) other gods. One commitment is exchanged for another.
In Judah, the two concepts are represented, in combination, in the same verb. This happens because the verb of motion that is attached to “after” (ὀπίσω – opiso) is the same verb that expresses “going away” or “abandoning” (ἀπελθεῖν – apelthein). The phrasing is more economical, but the basic sense remains the same.
For illustrative purposes, we can take a look at a similar turn of phrase that shows up in a Gospel. When Jesus calls the sons of Zebedee, we learn that they respond immediately (Mark 1.20): “they went off after him” (ἀπῆλθον ὀπίσω αὐτοῦ – apelthon opiso autou). With economy of style, Mark communicates two distinct concepts: the two brothers left their father (and their careers) behind and they followed Jesus. They left one commitment (familial, economic and trades-based) for another one (being itinerate students of Jesus). This sort of phrasing and accompanying sense – expressing an exchange of one commitment for another – are very probably what we find in Jude 7.
But there is no indication in Gen 19 that the men of Sodom (or others) are making a commitment to abandon human-human relations for human-angel relations. (Indeed, the men of Sodom do not even know that Lot’s guests are angels.) The only sense that works here is abandonment of natural relations (male-female) for unnatural ones (male-male).
Multiple lines of reasoning, therefore, taken together, contribute to an understanding that cannot reasonably be doubted – Judah conceived of the citizens of Sodom, Gomorrah and their surrounding cities as guilty of a decided preference for same-sex sexuality. This understanding, then, has profound implications. They are profound, because our New Testament author not only understands, along with Paul, that homosexuality is sin, but also that the narrative account in Genesis surrounding the destruction of the cities in the plain of the Jordan River were guilty of pronounced commitment to same-sex sexuality. We need to be very careful to listen Judah’s words, for he invokes Sodom, Gomorrah, Admah and Zeboiim as a grave warning of judgement to come, for all those who, like them, pursue this kind of sexual immorality. Let us heed his warning. And, as teachers in the church, let us certainly not guide people towards this type of sexuality but away from it!
I’d like to make a personal appeal here. Joerg, I really care about you. I miss you. You’ve done so much for me. You helped me get access to resources and a place of my own to sit and work in the University of Zurich, while pursuing my PhD research for the Hebrew University of Jerusalem, yet living in Switzerland for family reasons. You helped me in aspects as I wrote my doctoral dissertation, though you were not one of my advisors. Then you were one of four readers of my dissertation – providing helpful feedback. You helped me, of course, publish my first book. You have continually believed in all my abilities. You supported me getting my first research position. Later you afforded me also a teaching position at a university, also putting your neck out for me on that one, to enable me to teach ancient Greek as a living language there. You’ve invited me to speak at conferences. (I wish I would’ve accepted more of those invitations. And you were right that perfectionism was crippling me then.) You’ve mentored me. You invited me to be your Assistant (similar to an assistant professor position), but for various reasons I declined (largely health-related). We’ve connected together around the world at seminars, conferences and other events – Israel, Europe, North America. And you have made gestures of friendship to me. We’ve hiked in the Swiss Alps together. You’ve had me to your place and entertained me there and elsewhere on numerous occasions. At times, you have let me into your confidence, and we have even had some open, vulnerable conversation. I miss you, Joerg. I miss you signing off your letters with “dein Joerg.”
Why have you become so closed to me? What have I done to you, personally, that has been so bad??? When I emailed a particular publisher in February of 2021 (cc-ing you) to apologize for how I had mis-stepped at one point, you thanked me for such a moving email. Later, Monica, your wife, and I had a video-conferencing call. Then, for about a year, as I tried to reach out to you, you made yourself very scarce. I was telling you that there was something I wanted to talk with you about. But it wasn’t a priority for you. (You replied back once, yes, as a place holder. And I also should have, I believe, emailed you more persistently.)
When we finally connected via a video-conference call last May (2022), we spoke for over an hour. Thank you. It was an unhurried, respectful conversation, was it not? You even opened up and told me things about your ailing mother.
I told you then that I was writing a book about Jesus’ traditional take on same-sex sexuality. I heard more about what you thought and learned that you had already given a lecture on the topic on same-sex sexual relations in the Bible for a Synod of the Swiss Reformed Church (October 2021). So, you had more to say than what you articulated in your published Zehn Thesen (“Ten Theses”), posted online in support of same-sex relations in the Christian faith. I requested to read what you wrote and I offered to send you a summary of the main line of reasoning for my prospective book. You agreed on both accounts. And you agreed to meeting again, for further conversation on the topic. Within a few days you sent me your text. I sent you mine. After that, I never heard back from you. You ghosted me. Or, at the very least, you never followed through with your word. Had I done something wrong? You also would not tell me, if I had.
Then, as the Society of Biblical Literature conference approached in November, I reached out to you. You said it “would be nice to see you.” Yet your email also admitted what I had suspected, you had gone silent on me. But your rationale was convoluted – you accused me of being “emotional” but not “scholarly.” But you did not engage with a single point I had raised.
When we saw one another in Denver in November, we hugged. You were in a wheelchair. You told me about injuring your foot and your subsequent surgery. I felt concern for you. At the same time, I told you that I believed you were involved in false teaching and that the time for us to dialogue was getting very narrow now. You told me that in the end you wanted to talk with me. You agreed that we would continue a conversation, only online. You asked me to give you a few weeks, until you were back in Switzerland and set up with a routine, and you would reach out to me to set something up. But you never scheduled anything. And you never contacted me. Once again, you totally backed out on your verbal commitment to dialogue with me. This is very hurtful, very disrespectful. But I am more worried for you – you are cocooning, stopping up your ears, unwilling to speak to even those who would take great patience and gentleness to talk with you. This is not the posture of a scholar and person of integrity. This is cowardly.
A few weeks ago I called you on your birthday, using multiple apps to try to get a hold of you. You never responded to acknowledge that I have tried to reach out to you. What can I say? You’ve ghosted me. You’ve also broken your word multiple times.
Your behavior leaves me so confused. Why hug me in a public setting in November and agree to speak with me later, only then to ghost me? This sort of ambiguous and mercurial behavior is very unbecoming of a professor of your stature. But more than that, it’s a personal slap in the face. Have I become nothing to you, and in so short a time, and with no explanation? But more than that — I have only wanted to engage your mind, critically, and your sense of ethics. What could possibly be the problem here? I don’t understand why you’re so afraid – for your behavior looks like it is fear-motivated – to hear another person presenting his research and to seek the truth.
Joerg, people these days present being nice is all the rage. I think it’s highly overrated. Wouldn’t you agree? Being kind is good – but “nice”? Don’t your scholarly demeanor and sensibilities give you impulse to consider reason and truth over what is commonly called being ”nice”? Where is the rigor? Where is a commitment to robust original language study and accurately situating texts in their historical context?
While being nice is, I believe, distasteful, being kind is of perennial importance. But kindness has a different quality to it all together. I am being kind to you. Here’s how. You have lit your own house on fire – and it is a blaze. If I were nice, I would never embarrass you. I might say “What pretty flames!” or “You have acquired some effective skills in pyrotechnics” or, generally, “Fire produces warmth and light – yay!” Instead, I am more concerned about you than I am about upsetting any social expectations that would keep me silent. What I am saying is this: “The house you’re in is on fire. Get out of it. Indeed, you may well have lit it on fire by yourself. But, at this point, who cares? That’s not important now. What’s important is that you need to save your life. Run from the flames an exit the faltering structure of that edifice.”
Is that not kindness? You have to understand that Judah uses Sodom and Gomorrah as an enduring testimony to an impending judgment, by fire, that Judah proclaims God will meet out on all the inhabitants of the earth, save for those who embrace the kingdom of God (as Judah articulates it). Judah insists he is faithfully transmitting this understanding of the kingdom to his readership. By denying Judah this claim about Sodom and Gomorrah, you are, in fact, turning into the very sort of teacher that he so passionately calls out in his letter.
Jesus warns that those who lead others astray, especially the little ones, are in especially grave danger of a fiercer judgment (Matt 18.6–7). Beware. Return to God. Leave this false teaching of supporting same-sex sexuality among Christians.
And please don’t turn to mockery in order to respond to what I’m writing. Judah also warns that the false teachers he has in mind are characteristically mockers (Jude 18). If you mock what I am writing, you will follow precisely along the path of the false teachers Judah opposes. Here’s the thing – mockers cannot win with sound argument, and in fact they turn to ridicule as a way to shore up public opinion, to fortify their position in their own mind. But mockery, as a habit, can never do justice to the truth. In the case of scholarship, and, indeed, theological truths, one has to look at the evidence, applying reason.
But, I am afraid, what Judah has said of his opponents, sadly, is true now of you: you have become a waterless cloud. I don’t have time here to address the key points of your Zehn Thesen with more detail. But, it is clear to me, that what you have written is riddled with logical inconsistencies, as well as containing theoretical and factual problems. With all of your esteemed positions as researcher, editor of monograph series, organizer of conferences, having an important chair in New Testament studies at a world class in research Institute – with all this, you have the appearance of being a mighty rain cloud, ready to fertilize the land and produce life for many. But in fact, when it comes to teaching about sexuality, there’s nothing of substance there. Nothing to water the parched ground of the minds and souls of those who listen to your words. Just hot air.
Your house is on fire. Run while you still can. No one knows the day or hour that their life will be snuffed out. Certainly not someone who has lit his own house on fire and smells no danger. God is being merciful to you. You have another day. “O that today you would listen to his voice! Do not harden your hearts, as at Meribah, as on the day at Massah in the wilderness” (Psa 95.7–8; NRSV).
(The Greek text for the New Testament is taken from The Greek New Testament, Copyright © 2017 Tyndale House, Cambridge. Used by permission of Crossway, a publishing ministry of Good News Publishers. All rights reserved.)
(The Greek text for the Septuagint is taken from Septuaginta (Greek Edition), edited by Alfred Rahlfs and Robert Hanhart, Stuttgart: Deutsche Bibelgesellschaft, 2007.)
(The Hebrew text for the Tanach (Old Testament) is taken from Biblia Hebraica Stuttgartensia, 4th ed., Stuttgart: Deutsche Bibelgesellschaft, 1990.)
Note: this blog post was edited lightly on Saturday, 25 March 2023, mostly for clarity, but also to make a few minor corrections in biblical interpretation.
