It took three classes of sharing the prompt before it actually landed for me. “Write a letter from Love to yourself,” Elizabeth Gilbert suggested in her essay, “Letters From Love,” in the book, The Book of Alchemy, by Suleika Jaouad.
First, it was with those in the young adult recovery unit and I did feel a slight stirring when I began writing. Then it was with the older adults and young mothers; but I was too concerned about whether or not they understood the prompt to let it settle deeply within me. Still, I wrote. Then it was the behavioral health crisis unit. Only one participant, and I saw how she struggled with the assignment, not because she didn’t understand how to reply to the prompt but because she didn’t really know what love was.
“Think of someone who loves you,” I said, and then wished I hadn’t. I know there are many in these programs who can’t call such a person to mind. I was met with silence.
Finally, she replied softly, “my dog loves me.”
And relieved, I responded, “YES! Write a letter from your dog!”
And she did. And it was beautiful and touching; and suddenly, I couldn’t stop the tears. It was as if she unlocked the gate, as if her words finally broke through the wall, as if I was finally able to receive a message from Love. And it splintered me and then healed me right back up. In a split second, in an unbelievable moment of grace.
I remember when a friend told me that she learned what it was to feel loved by God. It happened for her during a worship service in which the scripture reading was the parable of the treasure in the field found in Matthew 13:44-46.
“As I heard the story again, it dawned on me,” she said, “that maybe I could see this lesson from Jesus in a new way. What if I was the treasure in the field? What if I was not the one searching for it, the one who sold everything to buy it; but what if I was the treasure, and God sold everything to keep me? And with that thought, I sat in that sanctuary, weeping at such loveliness.”
Maybe Love has been trying to speak to you. Maybe Love wants to write you a letter. Or maybe Love just wants to remind you that you are God’s treasure and that nothing can steal away your belovedness. Maybe it’s time for you to let the message in.
A couple of years ago, I was sitting by myself in a quiet casita in northern New Mexico, having my morning cup of coffee and delighting in the rare moments of stillness…
As I gazed out the floor-length window directly in front of the table where I sat, I suddenly caught the faintest reflection of my coffee cup in the window…and immediately I found myself imagining that Jesus was holding that cup. And I found myself eagerly stepping into a space where Jesus was sitting there across the table, holding not only a cup of coffee in his hands but holding me in his gaze…
And I heard him ask, “What do you want me to do for you?”
My answer to that question, and the ensuing conversation we had, were deeply moving– and perhaps the topic for another reflection sometime…
…but for now, I bring it up because the Gospel reading for today–Matthew 20:20-28–brought it to mind. In Matthew 20:21, we find Jesus asking that question of someone else.
“Then the mother of Zebedee’s sons came to Jesus along with her sons. Bowing before him, she asked a favor of him.
“‘What do you want?’ he asked.”
And she answered. [If you’re curious, you can read her answer for yourself… Click here to find it.]
And Jesus said, “You don’t know what you’re asking!” (Mt. 20:22a)
You don’t know what you’re asking.
And I thought, how often must that be the Divine response to our prayers??
…because so often, we don’t know what we’re asking…
Although we think we do!
When we’re confused, for example, we want direction and clarity (of course we do!!)…but what if, rather than to be given the “solution,” what we need is to keep muddling through, to look and listen more deeply within ourselves rather than outside of ourselves? What if what we need is to become more comfortable with discomfort, more accepting of what feels unacceptable?…
When we or a loved one is ill, we want healing–healing that looks suspiciously like a cure (of course we do!!)…but what if the deeper wholeness that’s needed looks different? What if, somehow, the more eternal healing will come to pass when the cure doesn’t?…
When there is conflict, we want peace (of course we do!!)…but what if the deeper answers are found in the struggle? What if the only way we will truly grow is by going through the fight? By continuing to resist?…
When fear abounds, we want it go away (of course we do!!)…but what if the greater gift is to feel strength in the midst of the fear, God’s abiding Presence in the midst of chaos, a deep Trust that all shall be well when we are quaking with terror?…
Often, or at least sometimes, we think we know what we’re asking for when we pray…
If Jesus asked us, as he did the woman in today’s story, “What do you want me to do for you?”, often, or at least sometimes, we, like she did, would have an answer…
How often, I can’t help but wonder, would Jesus respond: You don’t know what you’re asking!
How often, I have to ask myself, does Jesus respond: You don’t know what you’re asking!
And when–not if, but when–that happens, I wonder—can we hear it? Can we receive it? Can we accept it? And can we then seek and trust the divine truth behind it?
Last Sunday I had the opportunity to observe Dr. Gloria Smith sit on the floor surrounded by young adults. She was addressing the 20th anniversary of Hurricane Katrina, an event that took place before most of them were born. In her typically respectful posture toward the young, Dr. Smith carefully explained the rise of the storm and the circumstances that made it so devastating. She went on to clearly describe not only the real-life physical aftermath of Katrina, but the reality of those who were the most physically, emotionally and morally injured…the harsh reality for the poor and disenfranchised. However, Dr. Smith did not stop here. She talked about the importance of the concept of neighbor helping neighbor, how the UCC rolled up its collective sleeves, and began picking up one stick at a time.
Katrina slammed into New Orleans, reportedly as one of the worst five storms in American history, and like the open casket of Emmett Louis Till, forced Americans to see the ugly divide of race. I watched in horror as Brian Williams reported his personal experience with Katrina’s aftermath in an NBC news special that appeared a year after the storm hit. Williams repeated over and over again that the post Katrina situation did not resemble anything that could happen in the United States, and that the human suffering was incredible by modern standards. As the crowd in the Superdome grew to more than 30,000, Williams lost his reporter’s neutrality, and talked about the inhabitants as being “obviously poor” and mostly African American. He went on to report that the Superdome inhabitants were treated roughly by the National Guard, and the whole situation “felt bad.” After the storm passed, and the levees broke, flooding at least 80% of the city, Williams, hoping to use the media’s influence in a positive way, further dropped his neutrality and pleaded with any authorities who would listen to recognize that there were people still in desperate need of help. Williams stated in an interview that he viewed the situation from his own standing as a father and husband, and related back to his childhood values that we are all of equal value. He summarized that the families of color in New Orleans were not treated with equal value.
This news special put my own mind and heart into motion. Who were these people who remained in New Orleans during and after the storm? Why did they stay? How did the rest of the country view them? Why didn’t we know about them before?
The term “underclass” was coined in the United States by journalist Ken Auletta, and it focuses attention on the basement of the American social system (those who are viewed to be “under” the rest of us). Christopher Jencks suggests three different kinds of “underclass”: economic (those who are working age and unable to get steady work); moral (whose with deviant behavioral norms such as addiction) and educational (those lacking in cultural and social skills). These citizens are the least privileged in our culture. Many of those most harshly affected by Katrina were already the poorest of the poor. The people who remained during and after Katrina lacked basic resources to evacuate the area.
Barack Obama responded by saying, “I hope we realize that the people of New Orleans weren’t just abandoned during the hurricane. They were abandoned long ago—to murder and mayhem in the streets, to substandard schools, to dilapidated housing, to inadequate health care, to a pervasive sense of hopelessness.”
The moral question becomes: Will Americans continue to turn a blind eye to the underclass and support political decisions based on hate, privilege and prejudice or will we come together to form a community of hope, picking up one spiritual stick at a time? Will we learn the painful lessons that Katrina was trying to teach? Will we, like Dr. Gloria Smith, pass on our learnings to the next generation, roll up our sleeves, suit up and show up, and say a resounding “no” to hate and hopelessness??? I say it’s time to get to work.
For clergy or lay members engaged in the demanding and holy work of pastoral care, sustainability is key. The following safeguards are designed to help you protect your spirit, maintain healthy boundaries, and continue to serve from a place of fullness rather than depletion, preventing burnout and compassion fatigue.
Anchor Yourself in Personal Spiritual Practices You cannot pour out what you have not first received. Your personal time for prayer, scripture study, and quiet contemplation is not a luxury – it is the very source of the grace you extend to others. Protect this time fiercely so you can minister from a place of genuine connection with God.
Acknowledge the Sacred Weight of the Work The stories you hear and the pain you witness are heavy. Acknowledge the emotional and spiritual toll of this ministry. Like Jesus in the Garden of Gethsemane, it is okay to feel the weight of this work. Naming it prevents the burden from silently crushing your spirit.
Set Healthy Ministry Boundaries Your role is to be a companion, not a savior. Practice compassionate detachment by walking with people in their pain without taking their burdens on as your own. Know when a visit is over, be clear about your availability, and protect your family and personal time.
Actively Give and Receive Care Within Your Team Your care team meetings should be more than just case management. They must be a safe space for you to be vulnerable, to share your own struggles, and to pray for one another. Intentionally practice being a caregiver to your fellow team members.
Know When to Refer You are a spiritual companion, not a professional therapist or social worker. A critical part of responsible pastoral care is recognizing situations that are beyond the scope of your training. See it as a strength, not a failure, to connect someone with professional counseling or other resources.
Practice Spiritual and Emotional Self-Awareness Regularly and prayerfully check in with yourself. What are your personal signs of stress or fatigue? Are you feeling irritable, cynical, or emotionally numb? Pay attention to these signals from your body and spirit as a prompt to seek rest and support.
Embrace the Discipline of Sabbath True Sabbath is more than just a day off; it is a deliberate ceasing from work and worry to delight in God and creation. Intentionally schedule time for rest, hobbies, and activities that replenish your soul and have nothing to do with your ministry role.
Nurture Your Life Outside of Ministry Your identity is more than “pastoral caregiver.” Cultivate your friendships, family relationships, and personal interests. Maintaining a full and varied life provides perspective, joy, and resilience that will, in turn, enrich your ministry.
Seek Continual Spiritual Formation Continue to be a student of faith. Participating in Bible studies, attending workshops, or going on retreats for your own spiritual growth will deepen your wellspring of wisdom and grace, equipping you for the long haul of ministry.
Practice Grace-Filled Self-Compassion You will not always have the right words. You will sometimes feel like you have failed. In these moments, extend the same grace to yourself that you are called to extend to others. Remember that your worth is not in your effectiveness, but in your identity as a beloved child of God.
Reconnect with Your Calling When you feel weary, take time to remember and reflect on why you first felt called to this ministry. Sharing these stories with your team can be a powerful reminder of your shared purpose and God’s faithfulness.
Lean on Church Leadership You are not in this alone. Your senior minister and other church leaders are there to support you. Be honest with them about the team’s weariness and your personal need for support. A healthy ministry is one where caregivers feel seen, valued, and supported by their leadership.
Based on the works of:
Barton, R. H. (2008). Strengthening the Soul of Your Leadership: Seeking God in the Crucible of Ministry. InterVarsity Press.
Burns, B., Chapman, T. D., & Guthrie, D. C. (2013). Resilient Ministry: What Pastors Told Us About Surviving and Thriving. IVP Books.
In an era where technology increasingly intersects with every facet of our lives, it’s perhaps no surprise that even the sacred halls of worship are beginning to feel its transformative touch. My recent experiment with Suno.com, an innovative AI-powered music creation platform, has opened my eyes to a fascinating and rapidly emerging trend: the use of artificial intelligence to compose and produce music for churches. This isn’t just about novelty; it’s about a profound shift in how congregations can express their faith, embrace inclusivity, and deepen community bonds through the universal language of music.
My first SUNO.COM album created for the Open & Affirming Coalition National Gathering in Kansas City in July of 2025 (click image to listen).
The “Why”: Modernizing Theology and Embracing Diverse Voices
For centuries, church music has served as a cornerstone of worship, a vehicle for communal expression and spiritual reflection. However, as societies evolve and theological understandings broaden, traditional hymns and anthems, while beautiful, may not always resonate with the diverse experiences and contemporary sensibilities of modern congregations. Many churches are grappling with how to make their worship more relevant, inclusive, and reflective of progressive theological stances – those that champion social justice, environmental stewardship, and radical inclusivity for all, regardless of background or identity.
This is where AI music creation steps in as a powerful ally. Platforms like Suno.com allow users to describe a specific “vibe” or musical style, enabling the creation of sounds that speak directly to marginalized communities and younger generations. Imagine worship songs infused with the rhythms of hip-hop, the introspective melodies of indie folk, the vibrant energy of electronic music, or the soulful depth of R&B. These are genres that often feel alien to traditional church settings but are deeply meaningful to many. AI’s versatility allows for this stylistic breadth, breaking down musical barriers and ensuring that the message of faith can be heard and felt by everyone, in a language they understand and appreciate, and representing and respecting the cultures they come from.
The “How”: AI as a Co-Creator in the Worship Experience
The process of creating music with AI is surprisingly intuitive and deeply collaborative. Users can input lyrical themes, specific phrases, or even entire poems, then select desired genres, moods, and instrumental arrangements. The AI then processes these inputs, generating unique musical compositions. This synergy between human intention and artificial intelligence is not about replacing human creativity but enhancing it. AI acts as a tireless co-creator, a boundless musical assistant capable of producing diverse arrangements and melodies at an unprecedented speed.
This capability is particularly transformative for churches with limited musical resources. A small congregation without a full band or a skilled pianist can now produce high-quality, contemporary worship music. AI can overcome the practical limitations of specific instruments or the availability of musicians skilled in certain genres. It allows worship teams to experiment rapidly with different sounds, iterating on ideas until they find the perfect sonic expression for their message. The pastor and worship leaders can work hand-in-hand with the AI, ensuring the music perfectly complements the sermon and the overarching spiritual theme of the service.
Beyond Sunday Service: Fostering Community and Engagement
The implications of AI-generated church music extend far beyond the Sunday service. Imagine an entire congregation having its own “album” – a collection of original songs that reflect their unique spiritual journey and community identity. This isn’t just a novelty; it’s a powerful tool for reinforcing faith and strengthening community bonds outside of formal worship. Members can listen to these songs throughout the week, deepening their connection to the church’s message and to each other. My own experiment, “UCC Open Affirming Anthems,” available on SoundCloud, offers a glimpse into this potential, demonstrating how a distinct musical identity can emerge.
Furthermore, this music becomes an invaluable asset for outreach and promotion. In an increasingly digital world, sharing AI-crafted songs on social media, integrating them into online ministries, or using them in youth group activities provides a fresh, engaging way to connect with potential new members and spread the church’s message. It allows churches to present a modern, vibrant image, attracting individuals who might otherwise feel disconnected from traditional religious institutions.
Practical Advantages and Accessibility
One of the most compelling practical advantages of using AI for church music, especially for non-profit endeavors, is the significant reduction in copyright complexities and costs. Traditional music licensing can be a labyrinthine and expensive process, often prohibitive for smaller churches. By creating original music with AI for non-commercial use, churches can sidestep these hurdles, freeing up resources and creative energy.
Beyond copyright, the cost-effectiveness is undeniable. Hiring professional composers, studio time, and licensing popular contemporary worship songs can incur substantial expenses. AI platforms offer a remarkably affordable alternative, democratizing access to high-quality music production. This accessibility empowers smaller, less affluent churches to produce music that sounds professional and relevant, leveling the playing field and ensuring that financial constraints don’t limit their ability to express their faith through song.
Maintaining Human Connection and Navigating Ethical Considerations
Crucially, the rise of AI in church music does not diminish the importance of human involvement; it redefines it. The goal is not to replace human musicians but to empower them. AI can generate “singable” songs, designed with church choirs and instrumentalists in mind, ensuring that human voices and hands remain central to the worship experience. The beauty lies in a hybrid approach: live performances of AI-inspired compositions, complemented by the playback of AI-generated recordings for more complex arrangements or styles that are difficult to replicate live.
However, as with any transformative technology, ethical considerations must be addressed. The impact on human composers and artists is a valid concern. While many church musicians are volunteers or paid modestly, the broader implications for the music industry warrant ongoing dialogue. Can AI truly convey the spiritual depth, the raw emotion, or the nuanced theological understanding that a human composer pours into their work? This philosophical question remains central. The answer likely lies in recognizing AI as a tool – a powerful brush in the hands of human artists and spiritual leaders – ensuring that the message remains authentic, pastor-led, and ultimately, deeply human.
My experiment with Suno.com has unveiled a promising frontier for church music. It’s a trend that offers unprecedented opportunities for inclusivity, creativity, and community building, inviting churches to explore new harmonies in their journey of faith.
You can listen to an example of my album, “UCC Open Affirming Anthems,” which explores these concepts further:
In the midst of the chaos, hear the wind blowing. The spirit is among us.
God of color and paint, yoga and yearning, God of laughter and longing, hear our prayer.
God of the damaged and dangerous, God of the dreamer and the dragon slayer, be with us today.
Christ the Risen and the revolutionary, lead us where you would have us go. Give us the direction, the dream, the desire to do your will.
God of the weak and weary, God of the faint of heart, breathe in us the breath of life, and armor us to defend the stranger and the vulnerable.
God of Justice. Christ the just. Spirit of the right thing to do, sway us in your wind, envelop us in the Holy Spirit. Catapult us into a world where justice crashes down like water and righteousness like an ever-flowing stream.
In remembrance of the martyrs, let us preach like Martin, seek like Romero, risk like the Freedom Riders. In the spirit of the living, let us embrace life like Mandela, laugh like Tutu and stand up like our UCC ancestors and leaders who have said no to war, no to hate, yes to the ordination of women, yes to the ordination of LBGTQ, and yes to extravagant welcome.
And, God, as you have welcomed us, we welcome your presence in this time of chaos and fear. Be with us. Guide us. Bless us as we offer ourselves to you. Thank you, thank you, and thank you again for the courage you have given us to face times such as these.
I recently purchased a condo in Santa Fe, NM (my first home, as a single woman–super exciting!), and so am deep in the throes of unpacking. I just said to one of my sons this morning, “I guess I have it [the thing he was asking for] somewhere, but I have no idea where!”
Since all of my worldly goods are here with me, I trust I’ll stumble upon the thing at some point. I’ll just have to keep my eyes open. I’ll just have to keep looking. Like the psalmist, who kept looking for God. (Psalm 59:9) In the time of the writing of this psalm, the author felt as though he was surrounded by “enemies” and “evildoers,” “powerful people” who were “attacking [him],” “growling like dogs, [and] prowling around the city” (Psalm 59:2, 3, 6).
Then, in the midst of the chaos, in the midst of his distress, he cried out to God. At one point–understandably!–he simply pleaded for God to notice what was going on: “Get up..! Look at what’s happening!…Wake up!” (Ps. 59:4-5)
Then he described some of the horrors around him, justifying his plea, explaining his plight.
And then–perhaps as much a reminder to himself as an assurance to God–he confirmed, “I keep looking for you, my strength, because God is my stronghold.” (Ps. 59:9)
In the midst of the chaos, he reminded himself: I keep looking for God.
In the midst of his distress, he re-centered himself: I keep looking for God.
In the midst of fear and overwhelm and enemies, he re-claimed his orientation: I keep looking for God.
…because God is his strength, his security, his shelter.
God is his strength, his security, shelter.
And he believes, he trusts, he knows, this: “My loving God will come to meet me.” (Ps. 59:10)
I’m not only surrounded by boxes, but occasionally feel as though I’m surrounded by the “enemies” of worry and doubt…
Yes, there seem to be “evildoers” out there in the world–but I’ve also been known to experience powerful and destructive voices of anxiety and fear within my spirit… And all the neighborhood dogs I’ve met so far–thankfully–have not been growling or prowling, but have been sweet and friendly. But there are those things that growl and prowl in the recesses of my soul…
In the midst of the chaos, may I, like the psalmist, remind myself to keep looking for God.
In the midst of distress, may I, like the psalmist, re-center myself, and keep looking for God.
In the midst of fear and overwhelm and enemies, whether within or without, may I, like the psalmist, re-claim my orientation, and keep looking for God. …because God is my strength, too, and my security, and my shelter.
God is my strength, and my security, and my shelter.
And because I, too, believe–I, too, trust–I, too, know–this: “My loving God will come to meet me.” (Ps. 59:10)
In every generation, the Church has wrestled with new technologies: the printing press, the radio, the internet, Zoom… Each time, we’ve asked: How can we use this gift wisely, without losing the heart of who we are?
Today, artificial intelligence (AI) is the newest tool in front of us. And like those that came before it, AI is neither a savior nor a threat in itself – it’s a tool that can be shaped for good when used thoughtfully or do harm if used carelessly.
As a future pastor in the United Church of Christ, a tradition rooted in the idea that “God is still speaking,” I believe AI can enhance the quality and increase the efficiency of our ministries. When used with prayerful discernment, it can actually deepen the soulful, relational heart of what we do.
But that doesn’t happen automatically. It takes intention. It takes care. It takes practice.
How AI Can Strengthen Pastoral Ministry
More Time for What Matters Most
Much of pastoral work—writing newsletters, designing flyers, drafting reports—requires a lot of time and energy. AI can lighten the administrative load without diminishing the quality.
Need a well-written event description, newsletter article or a social media post? AI can provide a first draft.
Preparing Sunday slides? AI can clean up your formatting.
Struggling with a grant application? AI can help you polish your wording.
Need to write a prayer that complements your worship theme and represents UCC theology? AI can do a first draft.
The more we automate nonrelational work, the more time we free up for pastoral presence—the real soul work of ministry.
A Creative and Faithful Brainstorming Partner
Every preacher knows the pressure of a looming sermon deadline. AI won’t preach the sermon for you, but it can act as a brainstorming partner:
Offering outlines based on your chosen scripture.
Suggesting metaphors, quotes, or real-life examples.
Rewording drafts to make your message clearer and more powerful.
Helping you think about how your sermon might land with different generations or cultural backgrounds.
Creating an age-appropriate children’s message based on your sermon text
The Holy Spirit is still our guide. But AI can help widen the creative space through which the Spirit moves.
Engaging with Scripture in New Ways
AI can also be an unexpected gift for engaging Scripture more deeply and more broadly:
Generate study questions for Bible studies, focusing on different levels of inquiry -from historical context to personal reflection.
Summarize complex biblical passages into digestible outlines for newcomers or seekers, drawing from different human commentaries.
Cross-reference Scriptures related to themes you’re exploring – sometimes finding connections across Books we might miss at first glance.
Assist in multilingual ministry by translating Scripture passages or discussion guides into Spanish, Tagalog, Navajo, or any language your community speaks.
Of course, human wisdom and theological training are needed to verify and adapt what AI suggests. But when used well, AI can help us make Scripture more accessible and more alive to our communities.
Radical Hospitality through Accessibility
AI tools can assist in making worship and communication more inclusive:
Captioning live services for people who are deaf or hard of hearing.
Creating sermon summaries for neurodiverse members or those with cognitive challenges.
Offering daily devotionals in written, audio, or visual formats to meet people where they are.
The call to “welcome all” can be amplified when we use technology to lower barriers and open more doors.
Curating Resources for Pastoral Care
When facing tough pastoral situations—grief, addiction, trauma, family conflict—AI can help pastors quickly gather resources: sample prayers, grief liturgies, articles on pastoral responses to crisis.
While nothing replaces the human heart of caregiving, AI can equip us with language and ideas when we need them most.
The Risks We Must Guard Against
Technology, even when helpful, carries risks if we aren’t vigilant:
Substituting speed for soul. Just because we can generate a sermon outline in five minutes doesn’t mean we should stop wrestling, praying, and listening deeply for what God is calling us to say.
Forgetting the human connection. AI can draft emails, but it can’t hold a grieving hand or rejoice at a baptism. Ministry happens in relationship, not just communication.
Uncritical trust. AI often reflects the biases and blind spots of its programmers and training data. It can misinterpret Scripture, flatten nuance, or perpetuate injustice unless we bring our critical, prayerful minds to everything it suggests.
Some things will always be too sacred to automate: personal prayer, communion, listening, blessing. AI must always be a tool, never a substitute for the heart of ministry.
A Practice of Discernment for Tech Use
The ultimate questions we must keep asking are simple but profound:
Is this tool helping me love and teach people better?
Is it freeing me to be more present with God and with others?
Is it serving the mission of the church, or distracting from it?
If the answer is yes, then we can embrace this new tool with gratitude and humility.
If the answer is no, then we must be willing to walk away.
In truth, the soul of ministry has never been tied to our tools – whether scrolls, printing presses, projectors, livestreams, or AI chatbots.
The soul of ministry is tied to Love: the Love that forms, sustains, and redeems us.
As long as we stay anchored in that Love, we won’t lose the soul of our ministry.
In fact, we may just find new and beautiful ways to share it.
Thanks be to God for every tool that helps us love more wisely, more creatively, and more fully!
As I stand on the threshold of a life in ministry, my heart is full of hope, a deep love for Christ’s teachings of compassion, and, I must confess, a certain weight. It’s a weight I’ve carried personally, one that many of you know intimately: the pain caused when the sacred texts we cherish are twisted into weapons. Today, I want to talk about one such instance, a story of translation that has had devastating consequences for millions, particularly our LGBTQ+ siblings: 1 Corintians 6:9-10.
I’ve wrestled with this. I’ve seen the anguish in the eyes of young people rejected by their families for “religious reasons”, their own faith shattered by a condemnation that, as it turns out, was built on a surprisingly recent and flawed linguistic choice. The statistics on suicide rates among LGBTQ+ youth compared to their heterosexual peers are a stark, heartbreaking testament to this toll. And it all ties back, in a significant way, to how a handful of men, in a specific moment in history, chose to interpret a few ancient words.
Many of us grew up believing the word “homosexual” was an immutable part of the biblical text, a clear divine pronouncement. But the truth is, the first time “homosexual” appeared in an English Bible was in the 1946 Revised Standard Version (RSV) New Testament, specifically in 1 Corinthians 6:9. Before this, translations like the venerable King James Version used phrases like “abusers of themselves with mankind.” A different connotation, wouldn’t you agree? The focus was on behavior and not on identity.
Who were the architects of this pivotal change? The RSV New Testament committee was composed of esteemed scholars, yet, as was common for academic circles of that era, it was overwhelmingly white, heterosexual males. These brilliant minds, working with the best intentions I trust, made a choice that would ripple outward with unforeseen force.
Let’s look at the original Greek, the words Paul actually penned: malakoi and arsenokoitai.
Malakoi literally translates to “soft.” It carried various meanings in ancient Greek, sometimes indicating effeminacy or weakness. Crucially, it was often used in contexts of exploitation, referring to the more passive partner in same-sex encounters, frequently within systems of prostitution or pederasty common in Greco-Roman times.
Arsenokoitai is a compound word, likely coined by Paul himself from “arsen” (male) and “koites” (bed). While its precise meaning is still debated by scholars, a strong consensus suggests it referred to specific, exploitative sexual acts – think pederasty (the sexual abuse of boys) or sex with male prostitutes – rather than the loving, mutual, committed relationships we understand as homosexuality today.
It’s vital to remember that our modern understanding of “homosexual” as a distinct sexual orientation or identity simply didn’t exist in the ancient world. To insert this modern concept back into an ancient text is what scholars call an anachronism – it’s like trying to explain a smartphone to a Roman centurion. It just doesn’t compute.
Here’s where the story takes a poignant turn. The very committee that introduced “homosexual” into the RSV recognized their misstep. Just 25 years later, in the 1971 revision of the RSV, they changed 1 Corinthians 6:9 from “homosexuals” to “sexual perverts.” Dr. Luther Weigle, the head of the translation committee, reportedly admitted that the 1946 use of “homosexuals” had been an error.
An error acknowledged. A correction made. If only the story ended there.
But by 1971, the damage was already spreading like wildfire. That single word, “homosexuals,” legitimized by its inclusion in the RSV, had begun to appear in other influential Bible translations:
The New English Bible (1970) used “homosexual perversion.”
The Good News Bible (1966) used “homosexual perverts.”
The incredibly popular Living Bible (1971) used “homosexuals.”
The New American Standard Bible (1971) also used “homosexuals,” even adding a footnote suggesting the Greek words referred to “submissive and dominant male homosexuals.”
Think about that. These very few men, however well-intentioned, made a translation choice that, even after they realized it was a mistake and changed it, had already taken root. It fueled a culture of condemnation, providing a scriptural “prooftext” to reject, shame, and harm millions. It created a chasm between God’s love and God’s LGBTQ+ children. And the result was devastating.
This isn’t just an academic exercise for me. It’s personal. It’s pastoral. It’s about the real-world pain inflicted, the families torn apart, the young lives pushed to the brink because of a word choice that the original translators themselves came to regret. They saw their error, they tried to fix it, but the momentum of that initial mistranslation had already unleashed a culture of hate that continues to wound.
This mistranslation didn’t just cause theological confusion; it was tragically and effectively weaponized. In the United States, the appearance of “homosexuals” in widely circulated Bibles during the mid-20th century provided potent ammunition for the burgeoning evangelical right-wing movement. Seizing upon this flawed scriptural authority, political and religious figures began to systematically demonize LGBTQIA+ individuals, framing them not just as sinners but as a dangerous threat to family, faith, and national morality. This rhetoric was strategically employed to galvanize a political base, push specific legislative agendas, and consolidate power, all while inflicting profound spiritual and social harm on a marginalized community by casting them as an enemy against whom society needed to be defended.
The work of understanding scripture is ongoing. It requires humility, a willingness to learn, and a deep commitment to the radical, inclusive love that Jesus embodied. We must be willing to ask hard questions, to examine the historical and linguistic context, and to ensure our interpretation leads to healing, not harm.
My prayer, as I walk this path toward ministry, is for a church that embraces this ongoing journey of understanding. A church that recognizes the human element in translation and theology. A church brave enough to say, “We may have gotten this wrong,” and courageous enough to choose love, always. And I thank God that the United Church of Christ is such a church.
To my LGBTQ+ siblings who have been wounded by these words: you are beloved. You are fearfully and wonderfully made. The error was not in who you are, but in how a word was once tragically, harmfully misunderstood and misused. May we, together, reclaim the boundless, affirming love of God for all.
Much of the historical detective work and the profound understanding of this linguistic and cultural shift that I’ve shared here finds powerful expression in the documentary “1946: The Mistranslation That Shifted Culture.” This film was a significant inspiration for this post and a crucial source of the detailed information presented, especially concerning the 1946 RSV committee’s decisions, the nuances of the Greek terms malakoi and arsenokoitai, and the subsequent, tragic proliferation of the term “homosexual” in other Bible versions. The movie meticulously traces how this single word’s introduction into the Bible was later built upon, and it sheds light on the tireless researchers who have worked to uncover the truth, a truth that resonates deeply with my own journey and my call to a more just and compassionate ministry. I highly recommend it! https://www.1946themovie.com
There is a line from Thomas Merton that has become important to me. “No despair of ours can alter the reality of things, or stain the joy of the cosmic dance which is always there.”
“Stain the joy.” I absolutely love that phrase. Merton says it can’t be done but that’s certainly not without many valiant attempts on our part. And yet, somehow hearing the Trappist monk speak of joy and delight with certainty, with such resolute confession, gives me hope in our troubled times.
Of course, I know the promises in our sacred texts, the reminders that nothing can separate us from the love of God, that all things work for good. That God is bigger than any trouble we face. But to frame faith in this way, to say in gospel boldness that our loss and grief, our suffering and despair will not diminish or change the reality of how things really are from the Creator’s perspective, that nothing we feel or do or is done to us can sully the celebration of creation’s never-ending dance, well, that leaves me breathless.
It has been said that the Desert Fathers and Mothers would repeat one word over and over when they found themselves lost in despair. The word wasn’t Jesus or Love or Mercy. It was Today.
And Today, grief and loss and trouble and sorrow do not have the final say. Today, joy extends everywhere, whole and holy, and unstained. May today be the day you take a breath and relish this joy.
