Abstract
In Gender as Love, Fellipe do Vale offers a robust account of gender that seeks to avoid the problematic bifurcation between social constructivist and essentialist accounts of gender. Furthermore, by locating gender within the unfolding divine drama in history, do Vale eschews another common bifurcation between theology and other academic disciplines. Within this conceptual and methodological frame, do Vale argues that gender is an aspect of human identity that is grounded in an ontology of love that binds us to culture that requires constant cultivation by one’s love for God.
Do Vale brings together novel dialogue partners, themes, and critiques that build slowly to form a compelling case for a theology of gender. He invites the reader to listen to an ancient voice of the church, Augustine of Hippo, to teach us how to navigate the terrain between ontology and epistemology. It is a unique contribution to the bourgeoning body of conservative theological literature on gender that avoids tired tropes and clichés.
Do Vale begins by situating himself (in Chapter 2) in opposition to social constructivist views on gender which date back to the seventeenth century. He observes in these historical views a common purpose, namely, ‘the advancement of justice through the uncovering of oppressive traits that have been wrongly seen as “written in stone”’ (p. 31). This pursuit for justice flags an important pillar in do Vale’s subsequent constructive account of gender.
From the modern era, do Vale selects Sally Haslanger, Kathryn Tanner, and Judith Butler as representative voices who proffer social constructivist views of gender. Two critiques are levelled at Haslanger and Tanner. First, if gender is indexed to a specific context, then it stands to reason that there are as many genders as there are cultural contexts. The trouble with such a view is that ‘it is impossible to say anything about men or women simpliciter, resulting in a gender-skeptical position’ (p. 58). Second, if gender is as diverse as the number of cultures from which they are derived, on what ground can we evaluate gender? There is apparent absurdity in the practical outworking of social constructivist theories when they undermine the ability to speak about men and women as such and thus to evaluate what it means to act like a man or woman. When do Vale turns to his dual reading of Butler, he concedes that the less radical view—that language produces categories of sex through which we come to understand ourselves as embodied—is reasonable given the way we constantly revise concepts by which we understand an object. This does not result in changing the object itself, say, the body, but our understanding of it (p. 64). Regarding the more radical reading—that humanity creates the world and therefore sex and gender—do Vale notes Butler’s seemingly ridiculous claim that humans can create ex nihilo (p. 65).
I wonder, however, what do Vale would make of a more complex reading of Butler that does not bifurcate the two readings but takes Butler to be negotiating the two. On such a reading, Butler is not seeking to create new bodies ex nihilo like God in the beginning, but ‘recreate’ what already exists, that is, received concepts (language) and bodies (sex) which Butler admits are radically inseparable. Does this possible reading reflect the rejection of the bifurcation that do Vale seeks between sociality and ontology? Butler’s ontology of gender as desire, grounded in Spinoza’s conatus (desire for life), could be read as presenting an alternate account of gender that is ineradicably ontological and social. If so, there could be merit in pursuing further what commonality and divergence this would have with his own constructive account of gender as love.
A strength of do Vale’s book is that it is cross-disciplined, which requires proficiency across disciplines, as well as the humility and willingness to learn from them. A healthy example of this is found in Chapter 3 where do Vale outlines four theses which guide his theological project (p. 75). These are an amalgamation of the views of Charlotte Witt and Mari Mikkola who are feminist theorists who ‘craft a better way forward’ (p. 75). For the sake of brevity, let me summarise them:
An essence of gender is not reducible to biological determinisms or essentialism. Accessing this essence is difficult given the impact of sin on our thinking and experience of life together in the world. Pursuing and cultivating justice are central to gender. Gender is a human identity which concerns how goods are organised in relation to bodies.
In the field of gender studies, whether theological or not, speaking about an essence or ontology usually invokes contempt and derision. Do Vale’s engagement with Augustine’s view of love and its deployment as the essence of gender walks the tightrope. No doubt this will antagonise those who want the body to ‘speak’ more decisively, but gender as love rather than as the body focuses attention on the way our loves form identity both individually and collectively: ‘our identities are, so it seems, our hearts’ (p. 112). When we love a thing, we draw that thing into ourselves and so become united and so shaped by it. Since humans are created to love God above all else, then the telos of these loves is God. The trouble is that human love is perverted by sin, disordering one’s love of earthly things and their end, leading to incoherence. Do Vale argues that the Christian journey of sanctification is the process of re-aligning one’s own loves with God’s, such that one internalises the objects of God’s desire in one’s own heart. Applied to gender, I love a gendered thing in the world which is internalised thus shaping my gender identity.
In contrast to Sarah Coakley’s view of gender as desire, where desire longs for what one wants, do Vale rightly highlights the need for practical differentiation. For this he draws on Harry Frankfurt’s notion of care. I might desire two things equally, but I might care for one more than the other. Do Vale articulates how caring—as one way of speaking about love—not only accounts for the negotiation of desires but appropriates meaning (p. 158). Caring has a teleological function in that it draws together groups of loves to be acted upon that lead to a desired end (p. 159). Back once again to gender, where one is indwelt by the Holy Spirit, one is helped to love gendered things, that is, to act on loves that we care about that find their end in God.
Do Vale’s constructive account of gender can therefore be understood as an office, or a station in society in which one loves gendered things as a sexed person. Gender therefore is ‘the organisation of goods by which the sexed body is socially manifested, in which the lover identifies with the beloved, shaping who she is’ (p. 161). A Christian account holds to the same but recognises the need for the Holy Spirit’s guiding presence to develop in us the care for social goods that find their true end in God. Such things include sexual orientation, marriage, and procreation, and other things like vocation, clothes, food, etc. Social roles are also social goods, whether they be in the marriage, family, home, office, or hockey club: ‘The basic point is this: our agenda is an office of love when we love various things in virtue of our sexed bodies’ (p. 163). Our sexed bodies are a fact by which we find meaning when we find ourselves in relation to the gendered social goods around us that we choose to love.
According to this account of gender as love, gender is not a danger to society, or to individuals or the church. Do Vale maintains: ‘it is not gender that is a problem, but which gendered goods are loved and the character of that love. There are various ways in which gender goods are loved contrary to godly love’ (p. 167). Do Vale refuses to make a list of which gendered goods are to be loved by which sexed body because these are usually socially determined. In other words, a person in any given context will be called to love certain gendered things that pertain to a given body. The question do Vale is pressing is whether the gendered thing to be loved and incorporated into ourselves is good? That is, does that thing reflect the goodness of God? Do Vale’s dive into Song of Songs chiefly reveals how ‘we were both created to love God supremely and called to express our sexed embodiment in appropriate social ways’ (p. 171).
A question some may ask concerns how one might come to know what gendered things are good and to be loved? In a world that is moving away from traditional notions of gendered goods, how does one discern whether this moving feast of gendered goods are indeed good? On this question, more attention could be given to the very promising claim that ‘The gospel provides the moral guidance necessary for the right evaluation of goods loved in virtue of sex…’ (p. 166). How does this happen? And to what does the gospel appeal to instruct on such matters, particularly matters of sexuality and marriage? Is there a risk here of falling into a biological determinism?
In part three, do Vale locates his constructive account of gender in time in which gender is subject to the divine economy. Of importance is do Vale’s commitment to the good and normative function of the two sexes found in Genesis (pp. 187–91). Sin subsequently inhibits humanity’s perception of the body and its function but in light of the redemption of the body and in the eschaton, the archetypal bodies remain normative even if ‘reclassified’ (p. 232). Do Vale’s insistence that gender is essential demands that male and female do not pass away in virtue of the body’s redemption and consummation, but sin and its impact on the body do.
Do Vale acknowledges that revisionist accounts of the archetypal bodies by theologians like Susannah Cornwall and Megan DeFranza might address abuses associated with assumptions about sex (p. 201). But they do not deal with the impact of gender identity incoherence manifesting as shame and unworthiness imposed on us by ourselves and others by virtue of loving gendered things wrongly. Gender as love cannot be used to justify perverted loves but has the metaphysical grounding to bring justice to both perpetrators and victims. Redemption in do Vale’s conception of gender is achieved by Jesus Christ and is a gift that, among other things, restores moral agency. Drawing on John Barclay’s work, even though one is unworthy to receive grace, the gift received is worthiness. This gift is not insignificant given the shame and worthlessness that characterises so many on account of sexuality and gender. As this gift enters a community of people, the community becomes characterised by it, which do Vale identifies as love: ‘Through our exploration of an Augustinian theology of love, we have already seen that love is characteristically definitive of moral agency. We can now see that this is a deeply biblical insight and that love is the name for a community shaped by grace’ (p. 223). A person’s worth is therefore not derived from what they experience or what has been inflicted on them. Their worthiness to be treated with love is grounded in their worth in Christ. Justice is realised finally when a person is treated in proportion of their worth which is found in Christ.
I commend Do Vale for this generous and robust engagement that leads the confessing church to consider a theology of gender through fresh eyes. While there are some questions that linger, these do not undermine the value of do Vale’s achievement and the vitality this should inject into stalling and stunted conversations on gender in the church.