In recent years, the debate on revelation and liberal Christianity has become central for those seeking to uphold the authority of God’s Word in a world that absolutizes culture. I recently preached on Luke 20:27–38, a passage that raises profound implications for our understanding of the present world and the world to come.
Jesus teaches that “those who are considered worthy to attain to that age and to the resurrection… neither marry nor are given in marriage” (v. 35). These words contain an eschatological revelation: marriage belongs to the order of this age, not to that of the consummated Kingdom. Marital union is a sign of divine love that will one day be replaced by full communion with God.
If marriage has an earthly value, then it cannot be considered a universal vocation. Jesus speaks of those who “They became eunuchs for the sake of the kingdom of heaven.” (Mt 19:12). The apostle Paul, following this line of thought, affirms that both marriage and celibacy are gifts from God distributed according to grace (1 Cor 7:7). However, many churches—especially in Hispanic contexts—have reduced the Christian ideal to the marital model, interpreting Genesis 2:18 (“It is not good for man to be alone.”) as a universal mandate. In practice, we have canonized a social structure and forgotten that Christ and Paul, precisely because of their total commitment to the Kingdom, embodied another form of fullness.
This pastoral observation inevitably leads us to the question of homosexuality. The usual response in Christian orthodoxy has been to recommend chastity or voluntary celibacy to believers who experience same-sex attraction. However, the liberal Christianity rejects both possibilities, interpreting them as cruel denials of personal identity. His conclusion is that both homosexual inclination and practice can be integrated into the faith, provided they are framed within a loving, free, and responsible relationship.
My intention is not to caricature that approach, but to explain its theological roots. During my years of doctoral studies, I had the opportunity to study the work of the Jesuit Roger Haight, particularly his book Jesus Symbol of God (1999). Haight attempts to reinterpret the Christian faith in dialogue with modernity, arguing that all revealed truth must be understood within its historical context. In his view, dogmas and moral norms are not permanent expressions of the divine will, but rather cultural symbols of the human experience of God.
This approach, though intellectually sophisticated, raises a serious theological problem. If revealed truth depends on the cultural context in which it was expressed, in what sense can it be revelation and not merely human projection? The consequence is clear: history ceases to be the stage where God reveals himself and becomes the criterion by which God is judged. The authority of revelation is subordinated to historical consciousness. What appears to be an opening to the modern world ends up being an epistemological capitulation.
From this framework emerges the contemporary version of the liberal argument on sexual ethics. It is claimed that biblical authors condemned homosexual practices linked to idolatry or the abuse of power, not the egalitarian affective relationships we know today. Therefore, it is argued, the Gospel does not prohibit love between people of the same sex; it simply did not recognize its modern form. Under this scheme, what was once a sin ceases to be so, because morality evolves with culture.
The underlying problem is hermeneutical. It's not just about how Scripture is read, but about who has the authority to interpret it. Revelation and liberal Christianity are opposed on this essential point: for the Christian faith, the Word interprets history; for the liberal view, history interprets the Word.
"Heaven and earth will pass away, but my words will never pass away.“ (Mt 24:35). Revelation is not an echo of the human spirit: it is the Holy Spirit interpreting human history.
In Genesis 1–2, sexual difference is not a social construct, but part of the theological language of creation. Male and female, in their complementarity, manifest God’s creative communion. When Paul argues in Romans 1, he is not referring to local customs, but to a deeper theological disorder: the exchange of the natural order established by the Creator for an order invented by the creature. “They abandoned the natural use of the body… and burned with lust for one another” (Rom 1:26–27). Here, “natural” does not mean “frequent,” but rather in accordance with God’s purpose.
Theological liberalism maintains that love justifies all unions. But Christian love is not defined by desire, but by its orientation toward the good. Not every affection builds up; not every impulse humanizes. The love that the Gospel proposes does not legitimize instinct, but purifies and redeems it.
When love is disconnected from truth, it becomes moral relativism disguised as compassion.
This confusion affects not only sexual ethics, but the whole of Christian bioethics. If culture can redefine the limits of revelation, morality becomes negotiable. The same logic that blesses unions contrary to the created order can justify euthanasia, genetic manipulation, or abortion, as long as compassion is invoked. The consequence is an ethics without teleology, a humanism without God.
Therefore, the Christian response cannot be merely corrective; it must be prophetic. To say that not all love is holy is not intolerance, but fidelity to a greater love. Christian freedom does not consist in self-determination, but in obedience to the truth that liberates. In this I agree with John Paul II, when he said:freedom does not consist of doing what one wants, but in having the right to do what one ought to do.” (Homily at Camden Yards, Baltimore, 1995).
The contemporary challenge is not between truth and compassion, but between revelation and self-affirmation. Christians are called to love by speaking the truth, because only the truth sets human beings free (Jn 8:32) and only love reveals the truth of God (1 Jn 4:8). Where history attempts to replace revelation, faith loses its transformative power. But when the Church proclaims the truth with love, the Word becomes present in history, and history is transformed into a place of encounter with the God who is “the same yesterday, today, and forever” (Heb 13:8).
