Ethical Submission?: Romans 13 and What the Bible "Says"
“When ‘the Bible speaks’ explodes, it fragments into pieces and ignites a thousand tiny conversations...”
“The Bible says…”
“I look to the Bible for guidance.”
“The Bible clearly says…”
“What do we do about the texts we want to ignore? What do we do when a biblical text seems to clearly say something that we find unsettling and problematic? ”
These are all variations on “pop” approaches to the Bible. Christians frequently assume that interpreting the Bible means figuring out what it “says,” how it can be a moral and spiritual guide: what the Bible says to me.
If I were flippant, I might thump a Bible down and declare: “Okay, let’s see what the Bible has to say.” And then wait for it to speak…But I don’t think that’s a great argument. The point is that the Bible rarely speaks clearly. Or, given that it is a collection of sixty-six texts, written across a span of at least five hundred years, by people from a vast expanse of cultures and geographical regions, “the Bible”—if we take it as a unified Book—frequently says different things about the same topic.
BUT: what do we do about the texts we want to ignore? what do we do when a biblical text seems to clearly say something that we find unsettling and problematic?
That’s why I want to focus on Romans 13. The passage seems clear: obey the rulers, obey the government, follow the law, pay your taxes. “Do good, and you will receive praise from them.”
And yet. This passage is chilling.
Three years ago, Jeff Sessions, then the attorney general, cited this passage in a speech to clergy—clergy who had spoken out against the revelation that ICE was separating children from their parents at the U.S.-Mexico border and then placing the children in cages.
Sessions chided enraged clergy who waved the Bible, reminding that Romans 13:1 demanded, as God’s will, obeying the government and the present laws they have ordained. Entry into the United States must obey U.S. immigration law, he said; violators must be punished. He echoes Paul’s words: “For rulers are not a terror to good actions but to bad ones. You desire not to fear authority: do good, and you will have praise from it.”
Personally, if I were writing an epistle, I would have said: “If an authority desires not to be feared, then don’t lock anyone in a cage of any kind” (“Romans” 13:3).
So, what do we do with this?
“I’m not satisfied with a passage that says: ‘The government is God-ordained, so enjoy it when it isn’t oppressing you, but don’t complain when it is.’”
Do we twist it to be anti-imperial? Do we emphasize other verses? Do we grin and bear it?
Readers with just intentions do all of the above.
Liberal interpreters often gleefully throw Romans 13:1 back toward them when the administration changes. I confess, I felt this glee after reading an evangelical scholar who commented that Romans 13:1 was meant to emphasize marriage (between a man and a woman) as “enduring institution protected by the state” as God’s will. Whoops, I suppose God was working through the Supreme Court to make that institution enduringly gay.
The glee is fun. But it’s not great interpretation. I’m not satisfied with a passage that says: “The government is God-ordained, so enjoy it when it isn’t oppressing you, but don’t complain when it is.”
Another option is to look elsewhere: In response to Sessions’s use of Romans 13:1, there were outcries. From Stephen Colbert to biblical scholars, readers of the Bible were quickly pointed out how Sessions missed the overwhelming number of biblical passages that welcome anyone as a neighbor. I agree with the sentiment: the Bible contains multitudes, we choose what we emphasize. These are political choices, and political choices are always framed by morality (or lack thereof).
But. But.
BUT.
“The problem is: these verses don’t go away. And they’re terrifying.”
I want to look elsewhere. I want to ignore Romans 13:1-9, and skip to verse 10. I want to throw this out and just read those other passages. But it doesn’t solve the problem. It doesn’t keep these words from resurfacing: again, again, and again.
The problem is: these verses don’t go away. And they’re terrifying. Romans 13 is a roadmap of how the Roman Empire policed the various ethnic groups it conquered. Do good, get praise. Do bad, and the empire will terrorize you. “Bad” subjects—in Rome, always meaning racial-ethnic others—are suspicious, they must be policed, they don’t deserve praise, wealth, or privilege.
“Chillingly, Paul’s Rome is not all that different from today’s United States.”
The fear continues: “If you do bad, fear because it does not bear the sword at random.” The phrase “bear the sword” alludes to the Roman imperial version of policing. Paul seems to mean this as a promise: Rome only polices those who do bad things, and Paul wants his audience to do good in order to become “subjects worthy of rehabilitation” and praise under Roman rule.
But this verse also contains a threat. If the governing authorities believe you are “worthy of suspicion”—as Rome generally believed most of the ethnic groups it conquered—then Rome would police you closely to make sure you did not disturb the peace—that pax Romana that scholars frequently observe was enforced through the threat of violence. That the government does not bear the sword at random meant it targeted those deemed suspicious, potentially rebellious—almost always meaning poor, marginalized, and ethnically other.
Chillingly, Paul’s Rome is not all that different from today’s United States: policing, despite claims to the contrary, is not random, whether we are talking about who ICE officers target, who most regularly gets pulled over or followed by the police, or who gets screened for extra security in airports. Racism draws lines of who is a threat, who is worthy of suspicion and terror—and who gets to be rehabilitated from policing.
“Lots of people and texts clearly say a lot of things, after all. That does not mean we have to agree with them. It doesn’t mean we can’t change the reality they present us with.”
Jeff Sessions’s use of Romans 13 is terrifying—not because he interprets it incorrectly, but because he interprets it quite correctly. It is horrifying because both Sessions and Romans 13 paint pictures of dystopian, racist worlds. It is, certainly, horrifying to choose this text, when—as many point out—there are so many other ones that could be emphasized.
But…if the Bible “speaks”—even if it doesn’t speak clearly and even if we have to choose what we emphasize—then Romans 13:1-10 is still one of the many things it says. It’s in the Bible, so the Bible will keep saying it....do we just ignore it, then?…………or do we change our lens on how the Bible—meaning any text or segment of texts—speaks?
Lots of people and texts clearly say a lot of things, after all. That does not mean we have to agree with them. It doesn’t mean we can’t change the reality they present us with.
“Biblical texts might be deemed sacred because they are sources for conversation and debate, agreement and disagreement.”
Instead: we can draw the Bible into conversation with reality, with the world we live in and the just worlds we want to create. This means not just embracing the texts with which we agree—it also means engaging, arguing with, and speaking out against the texts of terror.
It means abandoning the “pop theology” approach of a Bible that speaks to offer inspiring moral guidance, and instead reading it as a collection of writings—sacred stories to be sure. But these texts are sacred not because they speak inspired guidance, not because they give us steps to live sacred lives. Biblical texts might be deemed sacred because they are sources for conversation and debate, agreement and disagreement. They draw us into the networks of folks across history who engaged and debated these texts, who found God through the conversations they had with others about and around them.
Returning to Romans 13: when this text speaks, it tells us to submit to authority, just or unjust. It submits us to the roller coaster of political change; it threatens promises…and promises threats. It mistakes a racist, xenophobic, imperialist reality for justice.
“The Bible doesn’t ‘speak’…instead, the Bible converses. And so must we.”
But when this text is one among many in conversation, it allows us, as speaking readers, to voice our discomfort with it. It reminds us that the earliest Christ-followers who heard this text also disagreed with it, also recognized the ways in which it submitted to Roman conquest and rule. It allows us to speak justice to this text—but also to cry out for justice when others attempt to let it speak oppression.
It reminds us to turn to other biblical texts—but to refrain from letting them merely speak to us. Exploding the idea that “the Bible speaks” blasts open room to ask questions of every text we read—to ask why we love—or hate—a passage, to remember that even passages we love might contain threats to other readers.
When “the Bible speaks” explodes, it fragments into pieces and ignites a thousand tiny conversations, sacred conversations that invite us to struggle, to laugh, to groan, smile, and cry together. So, no, the Bible doesn’t “say” anything…the Bible doesn’t “speak”…instead, the Bible converses. And so must we.
Cover of the book (brown with header of early Christian iconography)
This blog reflects on the implications of my new book—Feminism, Queerness, Affect, and Romans: Under God?—especially chapter five (“Ethical Submission”).