On the 22nd January 2020, the Church of England released a pastoral document concerning its doctrinal, theological and legal view of civil partnerships, marriage, and the ‘proper place’ for sexual activity. Since its publication, many people have spoken out against its blatant homophobia, misogyny, crass language and increasingly out of touch views with vast swathes of the British population within which the Church of England tries to locate itself. To summarise the document, if you are engaging in any form of sexual activity outside of heterosexual marriage (where vows have been said during the ceremony), you are ‘falling short of God’s purpose for human beings’.
What does this mean?
To be frank, I’m not sure I know, because it seems to be such a bizarre claim. If the whole point of a Christian life was to get married to someone of the opposite sex and have plenty of children, then the vast majority of us have quite significantly messed up in one way or another, or at least engaged with scripture in a singular prescriptive way.
When we fall short of God’s purpose, I think of making a mistake, slipping up, not fulfilling our potential for whatever reason. Some people might call this sin, but I am uncomfortable in using this as a throwaway pejorative in this context, as sex, shame and sin are often lumped together as one and the same. For more on how these terms intersect, I would recommend reading Nadia Bolz Weber’s Shameless and Matthias Roberts, Beyond Shame.
To fall short is to not quite get there at that moment, to lie down when it would’ve just taken one more step. There is no doubt that falling short is a central part of being human, it is an integral part of who we are, not because of our sexuality, gender identity or sexual practice. It is society, culture, patriarchy and religious dogma that have chosen the rules, and often piled the theological reflection on top.
We learn from our mistakes, from our broken promises, from our stupidity. God helps us dust off our knees and start again, not with an angry vengeful glare, but an understanding that we’re messy fallible creatures trying our best to carry on living in a messy fallible world.
I’m unconvinced by the official line of the House of Bishops therefore, or at the very least, uncomfortable with this chosen divine judgement of God, that our falling short of God’s purpose is an intentional act, especially when it’s to do with relationships with others, and with love.
Falling short of God’s purpose is also a reflective, passive phrase. I might be casting aspersions here but I highly doubt I know anybody who thinks about doing something with such self-awareness that they or others perceive to be a negative act and think, ‘yes, this is definitely falling short of God’s purpose for me, I think I’ll go with that’. It’s often after we’ve made the mistake that we realise we’ve messed up again, and probably the hardest thing to remember at that point, is that God continues to love us, and loves us in a way that really is a mystery to fully comprehend or understand.
I recently read Marian Partington’s outstanding book, If You Sit Very Still. Interspersed between the story of how she copes with the disappearance and murder of her sister, Lucy, Marian writes with extraordinary grace that she believes there is a part of God that exists in everyone. Some people, unfortunately, through trauma, horrific circumstances, addiction, abuse or complex mental health issues do not realise or feel that God does exist in them, and as a result, a minority try to take God away from the bodies, souls, and lives of others, like what happened to Lucy. As a theological premise, this resonates and makes a lot of sense. When we (through no fault of our own) end up believing that God is not to be found anywhere in our beautiful human selves, however small that glimpse of God may be, then we could be seen as ‘falling short’. To help people to notice that God exists in them is one of the most important aspects of living a Christ centered life.
God loves everyone just as they are, with all their flaws, history, and past mistakes. If we are to follow this to its theological conclusion then, falling short of God’s purpose if you are engaging in sexual activity outside of heterosexual marriage makes no sense, and rather passes judgement on the bodies and sexualities of others, forgetting that God lives in them too.
If God is calling us to be authentic embodied versions of ourselves, aware that God exists in all of us, and therefore, that we are all sacred in some way, then respecting and caring for our body and the bodies of others is of the utmost importance. We simply cannot fall short if we are engaging in safe sexual activities with adults who are actively consenting and are not harming ourselves or others. God’s purpose for us is all about love, love for ourselves, love for others, love for all that we encounter and see. As the Church of England marriage liturgy states, ‘God is love, and those who live in love live in God, and God lives in them’ (1 John 4:16).
If the premise of all our sexual or romantic intimacy and activity, whatever that looks like is rooted in respect and love, our love, their love and the love of God, then we are doing quite the opposite of falling short. To love in this way, whatever sexuality or gender, is the radical realisation that ‘I am a place where life is happening. And if I am place where life is happening, I am a place where God is happening’ (Rowan Williams).
What can be wrong with that?
Lu Skerratt is a non-binary Anglican living in Sheffield (UK). They are currently studying for a doctorate in Theology and Ministry at the University of Durham researching queer bodies and boundaries and the Eucharist. They are also a trustee of OneBodyOneFaith and are involved in lay ministry and work at St Mark's, Broomhill.