“First, do no harm.”
I’ve
been reflecting on this phrase more often lately. It’s thrown around quite a
bit when you read, write, and talk about medicine. Do we mean we should never try
things that might hurt someone? Do we avoid certain types of risk? Who decides
what the risk/benefit ratio is? Do these principles apply to our personal
lives? Do we avoid certain confrontations? Do we shy away from the hard
questions?
People
bring up this idea of doing “no harm” in all different contexts; they use it to
mean slightly different things and they often misquote it as part of the
Hippocratic Oath.
While
we’re on it, the Hippocratic Oath contains a few of my new favorite phrases, roughly
translating as follows:
“…I
will come for the benefit of the sick, remaining free of all intentional
injustice, of all mischief…”
“…what
I may see or hear in the course of the treatment or even outside of the
treatment in regard to the life of men, which on no account one must spread
abroad, I will keep to myself holding such things shameful to be spoken about...”
“…if I fulfill this path and do not violate it, may it be granted to me to enjoy life and art...”
That is some seriously good stuff about pure intents, confidentiality, and the art of medicine. And, much as I love reading and talking about it, I occasionally end up with overwhelming guilt if I think too long about whether my motives really are always pure and about exactly how to combine the science and art of medicine.
“…if I fulfill this path and do not violate it, may it be granted to me to enjoy life and art...”
That is some seriously good stuff about pure intents, confidentiality, and the art of medicine. And, much as I love reading and talking about it, I occasionally end up with overwhelming guilt if I think too long about whether my motives really are always pure and about exactly how to combine the science and art of medicine.
So
this, my friends, is as good a segue as any into a brief discussion about the
interplay among science, religion, and homosexuality. Or not. Hear me out, though;
I think it’s all intimately related to the idea of not doing harm and – we hope
– actually doing some good.
Learning about why religion and
homosexuality don’t have to be mutually exclusive could be fun even if you
don’t identify as religious or homosexual
There
are a variety of reasons to learn about things. Well, maybe what I want to say
is that you don’t need a reason to keep learning and reading broadly, even if
you are supposed to be studying a very specific field. Could I be learning the names
of arteries and veins and nerves right now? Yeah, sure, but whether you are a
doctor or a lawyer or a professor or a seamstress or an equestrian, it’s fun to
try to keep up some level of diversity of interests. (Oy vey, I know, I should
stop already with the tangential discussing-bordering-on-pontificating.) Anyhow,
after some recent talks with a Lutheran pastor, an Orthodox Jewish rabbi, a
Jewish Hillel leader, and a Presbyterian minister, I realized how disastrously
behind I was on some extraordinarily important (and interesting!) reforms
taking place. On a more basic level, there were some religious texts I needed
to re-read for myself and some wandering thoughts that I needed to let wander.
Diving right back into the Bible
For
years, I’ve been a big fan of the concept of “biblical interpretation” and not
the technique of “literal reading of every single phrase.” Biblical stories are some of my favorite in the world and I’ve learned countless invaluable lessons from my Bible. Yet, I have never been tempted to literally interpret passages describing when a woman should be stoned or when the enemies should be slain or when a hand should be cut off. The idea that I ascribe to is that
scripture is inspired but not infallible or beyond question. Interestingly,
when you look through the ENTIRE Bible, there are only about five to seven
references (depending on how you count) to issues of homosexuality. Contrast
that number with the approximately 2,000 references to providing shelter for
the homeless, clothes for the naked, and love for the unwanted. Further, some
of those references to homosexuality are not, perhaps, even supposed to get
across laws about homosexual behavior.
It
is critical to look at the original Greek text if you want to try to
extrapolate meaning for yourself; take, for instance the Greek malekos,
which literally means “soft” but is used to describe a young or effeminate man.
Other Greek words for “effeminate” have meanings that translate to
“man-woman” and “man who enjoys penetration by another man.” In certain
biblical passages, the position of the word suggests the “soft and
young” definition, in which case we are talking more about pederasty than
homosexuality. Some verses often cited by homophobic leaders
are stories of, say, an elderly man paying a young boy to provide him
with sexual pleasure. Molestation or purchase of
children of any gender is a deeply disturbing problem, to be sure, but it has
no place in an argument against homosexual relationships that are based on love
and mutual respect.
I’m also intrigued by the idea that Paul, who wrote a solid chunk of the New Testament, might have had no concept of sexual orientation. What if he just thought everyone was straight? Maybe he thought he was condemning people for acting in a way that was unnatural to them as individuals. If you keep on with that train of thought, you wind up with the idea that we should now condemn homosexual men who are married to women and having sex with them. I won’t continue with that tangent, but it’s food for thought.
Christian reformation, here and now
I’m also intrigued by the idea that Paul, who wrote a solid chunk of the New Testament, might have had no concept of sexual orientation. What if he just thought everyone was straight? Maybe he thought he was condemning people for acting in a way that was unnatural to them as individuals. If you keep on with that train of thought, you wind up with the idea that we should now condemn homosexual men who are married to women and having sex with them. I won’t continue with that tangent, but it’s food for thought.
Christian reformation, here and now
Some
official changes have been going on throughout the last decade. To take a
specific example, the Evangelical Lutheran Church of America made two major amendments
during their national convention in 2009. Now, in the Lutheran Church, it’s now
possible for LGBT members – even those who are in official relationships – to
be ordained as pastors. Additionally, if the individual congregation is in
support of it, pastors can bless same-sex marriages. One of the most touching
stories I heard recently, though, had nothing to do with an official change of
policy, but was an individual man’s story of how he and his wife came to terms
with their son’s coming out. An ordained minister, this man was of a conservative
upbringing and openly admitted that he and wife were distraught when their son
first tried to talk to them about his homosexuality. Of course, I was also
delighted to hear that it was their family physician who encouraged them to
continue being open about how they were dealing with news, and it was also the
physician who so vehemently encouraged them not to let it break up the family. Currently,
their whole family is part of the national Presbyterian Church that, as of this
year, will officially ordain gay pastors. During his visit to the University of
Michigan, he emphasized to us that the overriding message of Christianity is
about life, healing, compassion, and inclusiveness. I couldn’t agree more. The
narrative of resurrection in the New Testament, read through this lens, is one
of alleviating suffering and injustice. I would argue that this goes far beyond
that first creed of doctors to simply “do no harm.” We need to make an active
effort to do good. Do something
little, every day. Personally, I need to learn more about many issues before I
can even start to figure out how to avoid hurting others (or, better yet, help
them).
Some thoughts about Judaism
Many queer Jews will tell you it’s still pretty hard, but the level of acceptance for LGBT members varies greatly among the different sects of Judaism. Orthodox Judaism remains staunchly anti-gay. Some rabbis do acknowledge that there are people with homosexual tendencies…and they recommend “reparative therapy,” or – for men – marriage to women to practice and encourage healthy sexual relations with the opposite sex. There is the increasing sentiment among the Orthodox that since God loves all people, they should not be blamed, per se, for experiencing “homosexual feelings,” and that we need to balance our compassion and our judgmentalism. I’m worried that this stance might in some ways be more harmful, since this tends to situate homosexuality as a “feeling” or “illness” to be taken care of. A friend of mine pointed out that California recently became the first state to ban conversion therapy for minors, terming it not only flat-out quackery but also blatantly harmful. After signing the bill, Governor Jerry Brown announced that he supported it because it bans “non-scientific ‘therapies’ that have driven young people to depression and suicide.”
Reformed
Jews are more liberal than either Orthodox or Conservative sects; they tend
to cite the parts of Genesis referring to when God created all people, male and
female, “in His image” as evidence of His love for any and all genders and
sexualities. Since 1965, they have advocated for LGBT rights. (Note that this was nearly a decade before the
American Psychiatric Association declassified homosexuality in 1973, officially
removing it from the list of mental disorders.) Within
Reform communities, gay and lesbian marriages are viewed as holding the same
weight as heterosexual, traditional marriages. A local Ann Arbor, Michigan synagogue,
for instance, performs same-sex marriage ceremonies despite the fact that
Michigan law does not recognize these unions. Interesting, I think, when
religious groups can be MORE liberal-minded that the dominant politique.
And we’re back to the big idea: do some
good
There is an unfortunate and dramatic difference between changing doctrine and changing people’s views (perhaps in some respects analogous to the difference between passing a law and seeing it enforced). People will continue to conduct themselves as they see fit, so even in religious communities that officially allow gay people to be ordained, for instance, there is still a fair bit of discrimination. You can’t legislate morality and attitudes and a lot of us are guilty of operation under the dominant, heteronormative, patriarchal assumptions. It takes a huge amount of effort to fight these forces, especially given the insight it takes to even recognize our own biases. It’s rough. I literally squirm with guilt and embarrassment each time I uncover a prejudice I’ve been harboring. Do I have gay and lesbian friends? Of course. Do I understand all that they are up against? Not at all. For me, at least, I hope to move far beyond “do no harm” and contemplate how to actually “do good.”
That interpretation of Paul was something I had not ever thought of before! If only we could go back in time and ask questions...!
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