Steven LaChance Blog

Talking about Jesus and his sexual orientation can be an eye-opening conversation—one that often sparks curiosity, discomfort, or even resistance. But what if we put aside our preconceptions for a moment and simply explore the idea? Not to be provocative, but to reflect on what we believe and why.

Some scholars and theologians argue that the historical and cultural context of first-century Palestine makes this conversation more nuanced than many realize. Back then, sexuality wasn’t defined in the strict categories we use today. Relationships were often fluid, and deep emotional and even physical connections between men were not seen as unusual or suspect. With that in mind, is it really so far-fetched to consider that Jesus could have loved in ways that today might be considered queer?

Take, for example, the Gospel of John. The repeated reference to “the disciple whom Jesus loved” has intrigued scholars for centuries. Could this suggest a deeper, possibly romantic, bond between Jesus and John? In the ancient world, affection between men—including kissing, embracing, and emotional intimacy—was common and not necessarily coded as sexual. But that doesn’t mean it wasn’t, either. The ambiguity leaves room for interpretation.

Then there’s the notable absence of any female romantic partner in Jesus’ life. Sure, some argue that the Gospels were focused on his spiritual mission rather than his personal relationships. But in a time when marriage was expected, wouldn’t it stand out that Jesus remained single? Was this an intentional choice by the gospel writers to keep his private life vague? Or was it simply reflective of a reality where Jesus loved in a way that didn’t fit traditional norms?

And if we step back and look at the bigger picture, Jesus’ entire message was about radical love, inclusion, and breaking societal norms. He embraced those who were marginalized, rejected, and cast aside. He defied expectations in almost every way—so why should this be any different? If Jesus transcended traditional labels of love and sexuality, what does that mean for how we view faith, queerness, and inclusion today?

History gives us even more to think about. Same-sex relationships were present in early Christian communities, and figures like David and Jonathan in the Hebrew Bible shared an intimacy that, through a modern lens, could be read as romantic. If love—pure, deep, and selfless—was at the core of Jesus’ teachings, then maybe the real question isn’t whether he was gay but why the idea makes some people so uncomfortable in the first place.

At the end of the day, considering the possibility of a queer Jesus isn’t about pushing an agenda—it’s about opening up to a broader, more inclusive understanding of love. Jesus’ message wasn’t about rules and restrictions; it was about boundless, transformative love. And if we take that seriously, then maybe the best way to honor his legacy is by embracing love in all its diverse and beautiful forms.