Editor’s Note: This story includes mention of sexual violence. Resources are available here. All opinions, columns and letters reflect the views of the individual writer and not necessarily those of the IDS or its staffers.
If you happen to be a Christian, and you — like me — have a sneaking desire to shock and appall one of your more secular friends, don’t tell them that the Almighty became a man, Jesus.
Tell them it’s good he didn’t become a woman.
Indeed, God could have taken on two X chromosomes. If he had, he — or she — might have initiated the women’s liberation movement two millennia early, which would have been a noble undertaking.
Instead, God’s choosing to walk among us as a man is part of what theologians call the scandal of particularity and is fodder for lines like this from the late feminist philosopher Mary Daly, who argued that Christian faith is irredeemably patriarchal: “If God is male, then the male is god.”
But perhaps it was wise of God to decide on a Y.
Look at the Cornell 7, the seven Chi Phi fraternity brothers at Cornell University accused of raping a woman. You don't need a trial demonstrating their guilt of this crime to at least agree that these men behaved in general with outright moral depravity.
For that, the facts of the case suffice. It was a fraternity party with liberal alcohol. There was ketamine, which was, allegedly, being consumed — 22 hours before the alleged rape, Cornell police made a drug-related arrest at the Chi Phi house. And carnal talk filled the air: around 1:42 a.m., a Chi Phi brother sent a vulgarity-laden message in the fraternity’s group chat, telling 56 other brothers that a woman could be found for “free” sex upstairs.
Rather than suggest that something about this scene was wrong to begin with — perhaps the atmosphere and time of night, the excessive drinking, the drugs or the lechery — the brothers' replies reveal that this is why one of them "love(s) chi phi." Another asked if the "shop," referring to the woman accusing the seven of rape, was "still open?"
But such moral abandon isn't unique to this case. This night's setting, and unfortunately similar events, can be found virtually unchanged on college campuses across this country. And the common denominator is men.
Women are less transgressive, at least less outwardly and violently so, committing only 26.2% of crimes in the United States. And the Judeo-Christian tradition reflects this fact.
Consider, if you will, who knelt at the foot of the cross as Jesus hung. Notably absent were Peter, James, Matthew, Thomas and, except for John, all the other male disciples. Meanwhile, not one, not two, but three Marys were present, according to the Gospel of Mark. John's gospel lists a fourth woman, traditionally identified as Salome, and Matthew's adds that there were "many women" besides those Mark identifies by name.
Or recall the story of the Exodus. After God brings the Israelites out of Egypt, it’s not long before the Israelite men forge a bull out of gold and build an altar to sacrifice to it, despite the commandment to worship no other gods.
Where did the men get the gold to forge this bull? From the golden earrings "in the ears of (their) wives.” This is gold that a rabbinic tradition tells us the women “were unwilling to give.” The tradition goes on to say they "reprimanded their husbands" for their idolatrous act.
You don't need to be baptized to agree that the human story is defined by moral failure. Under the name “original sin,” this is one of Christianity's more empirical claims. And if we still affirm that a difference exists between men and women, it would follow that original sin’s foul effects manifest differently between them.
And, indeed, most crimes, and especially the most violent, are committed by men. Which brings us to the fundamental problem that faces fraternities like Chi Phi at Cornell: they’re all men and no God.
That fact alone locks them firmly within the story of man’s moral failings and offers no opportunity to break the cycle. Indeed, one imagines that the vices of man in general are only magnified in male-only settings.
So, fraternities, among other groups, would do well to acknowledge that they have a problem as a collective and need to break out of it — they need to break out of themselves. As a culture, it's not as if such concepts of collective guilt over entire demographics is absent. This Christian doctrine remains with us in secular, often progressive forms: in this case, see the notion of patriarchy.
But the problem with purely secular forms of original sin is that they offer no escape from the in-group. Happily, however, if God became a human, he has broken into all human spaces instead. And if he became a man specifically, he has sent an inescapable message to the more transgressive sex.
The world, and Cornell, would be better off if more fraternity brothers had that divine sense of brotherhood that exists in those whom God has broken into personally, like Catholic cardinal Jean Daniélou. In his diary:
“Jesus, I have come to know that you do not want me to distinguish my sins from the other sins of the world, but to enter more deeply into your heart and consider myself responsible for the sins of those persons whom you may wish: those of Alain (Jean’s brother), of anyone else as it may please you.”
Indeed, if Daniélou were a Chi Phi brother, the night would have ended differently.
A list of resources is available here if you or someone you know has experienced sexual harassment or abuse.
Eric Cannon (he/him) is a junior studying philosophy and political science and currently serves as a member of IU Student Government. His column normally appears Sundays and Wednesdays. Never miss them or his other opinionated musings on X.
