Aug 05 | A Jesus masculinity: Summer 2018 Preaching Series, Part 8
Today’s citations:
Last week we discussed the story of David and Bathsheba in the light of #MeToo. Today, we are still encountering the echoes of the story of David’s devious act. It seems like a good time to talk a bit about toxic masculinity.
You might have heard this phrase going around as the #MeToo discussion amped up, or you may have heard it used when audio footage of Trump’s infamous “grabby†speech came out. A lot of folks feel uncomfortable with the phrase, because they see it as a blanket condemnation of everything masculine.
Toxic masculinity is actually a very particular type of masculinity, a kind that may not always be explicitly encouraged, but has rarely been challenged until now. In Hollywood it’s the Fight Club kind of man, the one who manages grief, loneliness, and rage with brute violence, shouts and postures, intrudes on the public space of others, decries any type of emotional honesty as weak or, worse, “feminine.†Funnily enough, the novel Fight Club was meant to be a criticism of that kind of masculinity. It’s telling that scads of young North American men responded to the film by idolizing the protagonist rather than seeing him as a monster.
It sounds cliché but the best example of real-world toxic masculinity really is Donald Trump, a person who all his life has allowed nothing to stand in the way of his entitlement. He is in power now because there is a steady current in many parts of the world that yearns to express this unbridled id: an admiration for strong-arm tactics, for the freedom to say anything we please, for the comfort of blaming all of our own problems on someone else. When we see it in a leader, we feel like things will really get done.
Toxic masculinity is also not always so explicit. It can be subtle. Monopolizing speaking time in group settings over the voices of women. Catcalling women on the street and responding to criticism with, “It was just a compliment.†Telling little boys to “man up.†Accusing others of being “too sensitive†while simultaneously inserting oneself into a conversation about men by insisting, “Not all men.†Expecting romantic partners to provide intimacy at all times and shoulder emotional and domestic labour while providing nothing in return.
Toxic masculinity is toxic because it hurts not only the people it criticizes, but the person who embodies it. It is a soul poison, hurting men by not permitting vulnerability or emotional growth.
David exhibits toxic masculinity by allowing his desire to take precedent over Bathsheba’s personhood and deviously having her husband murdered.
What’s most interesting, I think, is how God responds to this behaviour.
You may notice on the surface of the text that God does not seem to care as much about the assault as the fact that David murders Uriah. This is the moment when the writer says, “What David has done displeased the Lord.†But don’t despair. Nathan’s parable of the lamb is a masterful story which proves that God does care deeply about what has happened to Bathsheba.
Nathan tells a story about a beloved lamb and a poor man. Notice how the poor man does not seem interested in eating this lamb. It is “like a daughter to him.†The rich man, on the other hand, not only sees this lamb as an object, but flouts important social laws about hospitality in the ancient world. It is completely inappropriate to take from someone else to provide for a guest, unless you have nothing to give. This rich man doesn’t want to share his own wealth, so he steals, and doesn’t seem to care that he did not just steal an ordinary serving of lamb chops but a creature that was deeply beloved.
David’s sin is a grave insult to the God who has provided everything for him – wives, riches, and power. The parable shows us that God does care about Bathsheba, humanizes her even while it somewhat problematically describes her as someone else’s property. She is loved.
David trips himself up in a wonderful bit of irony, and admits his sin. David’s punishment, which is not included in today’s reading, is the death of the child they conceived together.
This might seem terribly cruel, but we consider that Bathsheba may have been relieved. It is only once that child, conceived in a moment of great power imbalance, is gone, that David begins to treat Bathsheba as a person. Finally, the two of them appear to be on better footing.
Once again, let’s compare King David with King Jesus.
There is no toxic masculinity here. Our king is a sissy. Our king is not defined by his sexual prowess or history. Our king does not take from women, but lifts them up and honours them. He spurns power and posturing. He cuddles children.
When you think of the crucifixion, it’s not too much of a stretch to see the parallels between the assault of Bathsheba and the stripping and execution of Jesus. His side is even pierced, penetrated, with a spear. Jesus is a victim of toxic masculinity. He knows, intimately, the pain of all those who have been violated by it.
In today’s story, Jesus invites others to consume his flesh. Jesus, the man who abhors and complicates toxic masculinity, stands in front of the suffering and says, “You want to hurt someone? Is that the only thing that you think will cure your soul sickness, your own pain, your own fear and desire to be good enough? Fine. Hurt me. Consume me. Ravage me.â€
Then, once he has been consumed, hurt, despised, mocked, and pierced…he comes back, having allowed every bit of physical evidence, every scar, to remain. Our king returns to us disabled, yet another identity routinely despised in toxic masculinity. And not only does he return disabled – it is in his disability that his power is most truly known.
What does this tell us?
We have to be careful. It’s very easy to slip into what some of us call “doormat†theology, encouraging people to be willingly debased and be happy in their suffering. This is a tool of the oppressor. It is not the will of God. God does not wish women to stay in abusive relationships. God did not wish black people to be happy in their slavery. God does not wish queer children to sacrifice their sexuality for a spot in heaven.
When we are in that place of pain, fear, or abuse, God’s desire for us is comfort and solidarity. We can have peace knowing that God holds us in our agony. But if someone else is in that place, God has a commission for us, and it is that we own and use our privilege.
This is another word that can be misunderstood. Privilege is not a negation of the struggles we’ve endured. Rather it is something that is unearned, but can be used to our advantage on behalf of others.
So men have to be willing to take risks by calling out toxic behaviour when it arises among their friends and those around them. White people have to be willing to condemn and work to dismantle the structures that oppress and murder the colonized. Straight and cisgendered people need to be willing to question and destroy the prison of binary thinking. Able-bodied (who are always only temporarily able-bodied, remember) and neurotypical people need to challenge a world which views disabled folks and neurodiverse folks as a burden.
When you choose to follow Christ the King, you choose to follow not a strong man but a convicted criminal, a loser, a sissy who willingly took on the pain and guilt and rage of the whole world not to make us feel guilty but to close the gap between us.
When we take his body, we remember the closing of the gap. We remember Jesus’ desire to be closer to us, to be held within us, an invitation to full consensual intimacy.
Holding the beautiful truth of that invitation in our hearts, we may ask ourselves this week, what other gaps could we be called to close as we venture forth from this place into the places where God has given us responsibility?
Who could our king be calling us to remember, to liberate, to feed, to embrace?