Matthew 19

I read this chapter several times this morning, first as if it were a guidebook on sexual/marriage ethics, then thinking of it more for what it is; a dialogue between Jesus and some people who are out to trip him up and others who are seeking genuine answers to relevant questions like, “Are there circumstances in which divorce and remarriage would be approved in law?”

Questions—and the intentions of the questioners—can shape the answers. The Pharisees throw out Moses' acknowledgement of the fact that in some circumstances divorce should be allowed. Jesus (playfully?) argues basics: Genesis 2: 23-24: it's the creation story and Eve has just been made from Adam's rib, the two therefore being one “flesh.” The direct translation here seems to be that God intended and made man and woman to be two halves of a pair, and to break that pair apart seems logically to be anti-creation. He uses the Pharisees' own “gospel” to counter the Pharisee's quibbles.

And for the disciples, there's more word play, the kind we engage in to our peril so often: define a word and then argue on the basis of our definition. For example: God is love, therefore an act that is not obviously loving is anti-God because love and God are the same thing. The definition of adultery at the time of Matthew's writing appears to have been the engaging in sexual intercourse with any person while married (in law) to another person and if you accept that “what God has joined together, let no man put asunder,” and if by that standard, marriage is permanent, then any sexual relationship after a divorce (in law) is, by definition, adulterous. It's called a tautology. It goes without saying.

Words are more like clouds than like stars. Given what we know about human relations in the 21^st Century, our attitudes toward divorce and remarriage tend to weigh lesser-against-greater good rather than judging by standards of legality. For instance, divorce can exact a tremendous toll from children; at other times, divorce saves children from abuse, fear and unhappiness. It's not about adultery, yes or no.

The disciples are understandably perplexed: given such stringent definitions, why would anyone marry? And well they might be. Marriages of their day—and certainly of ours—are not made in the garden of Eden; modern-day wives do not derive from a man's rib, thereby becoming a part of him.

So this section can hardly be read without acknowledgement of the word-play in it, and part of that play relates to upsetting these particular Pharisees' tendency to legalism, precise definitions and purity on the literal level at the expense of the principles Jesus is trying to teach.

The discussion about eunuchs—by choice or by castration—is very odd. Googled definitions seem to agree that eunuchs were sexually-inactive males: some slaves who were in charge of harems and were therefore castrated, other men who remained celibate by choice in order to perform priestly functions, some seemingly just “born that way,” i.e. asexual. We're in a different age here, and the absence of any mention of women who might be asexual is telling: it's obviously an age in which sex is what men do to women, not with them.

Some people try to conflate eunuchs and homosexuals in relation to this passage: not likely connected.

The chapter ends with a teaching story with an inconclusive ending. Can rich people enter the Kingdom or not? If richness meant what it does now, it appears that carrying around a bag of money while participating in Christ's crusade is a contradiction. American evangelicalism—and indeed, protestantism since its early days—leans heavily toward salvation by grace, gaining entry to eternal life as a gift. For the rich young ruler, the formula is more complicated: keep the ten commandments, sell your property and give the proceeds to the poor and follow me. But again, we're in danger of making this, too, into a directive rather than gleaning the principle: you can't really focus on two ends at once. Pursue money or the kingdom; make up your mind.

“So in that case what's in it for us, in the end?” the disciples ask. The point—as so often happens—is lost on them.