An Essay on Faith, Morality, and the Sacred Challenge of Inclusion

For two thousand years, the message of Jesus echoed through time: Love one another. A radical command in its day, and yet, over the centuries, that simple call has often been muffled beneath hierarchy, law, and exclusion. Women were held back, Jews were cast out, Black people enslaved, and others condemned for their difference. But over time, society changed. Slowly, painfully, we learned to see the divine in those we once deemed lesser.

Today, few would openly argue that women are inferior, or that Jews should be treated as outsiders. Even atheists—once burned, exiled, or silenced—are increasingly allowed space, as secularism rises and belief diversifies. We are, in many ways, a more tolerant world.

But one group remains at the heart of a deeper struggle: homosexuals. Their existence presents a distinct and singular challenge to religious thought—one more complex and more spiritually revealing than almost any other.

Why? Because unlike race or gender, homosexuality is not explicitly affirmed in any major scripture. On the contrary, nearly all religious texts speak against it. And so, to accept it fully is not simply to evolve socially—it is to wrestle with the very source of morality itself.

Some believers, moved by science and empathy, have accepted that many people are born homosexual. But others argue: even if some are born that way, must we embrace the lifestyle? What of choice? What of influence on children? What if tolerance opens the door to other taboos—polygamy, pedophilia, even bestiality?

These are not questions to be ignored or dismissed. They are real fears, often rooted in tradition and deep-seated discomfort. After all, many people—whether taught or instinctively—still feel a visceral revulsion at same-sex intimacy. That feeling is powerful, and religion often treats such gut reactions as moral signals.

But here lies the paradox: the same was once true of interracial marriage. Of women speaking in public. Of other religions coexisting side by side. Feelings, however strong, are not always moral truths.

And so we are brought to the core question—the one homosexuality forces us to ask: Where does morality come from?

If it comes from God, then surely we must obey what scripture says. But then, why do we now reject parts of scripture that allowed slavery? That silenced women? That condemned other faiths? If we’ve already chosen to reinterpret or leave behind certain commandments, then we’ve already begun to shift our moral compass—from scripture to something else.

That something else is conscience. It is reason. It is science. It is compassion.

And in that shift lies the deep spiritual challenge of our age. Homosexuality brings it into the open. We can no longer pretend that moral clarity comes solely from ancient text. We must admit—whether with gratitude or grief—that we now draw the line ourselves.

That’s why homosexuality is not just another issue. It is the issue that lays bare our moral process. Do we cling to unchanging rules? Or do we dare to think, to feel, and to love beyond them?

In doing so, we are not abandoning God. We may, in fact, be discovering God anew—not in rigid law, but in the struggle to honor human dignity. Homosexuals have become, unintentionally and perhaps unwillingly, the spark of this reckoning.

They force the faithful to reexamine their beliefs. They make society confront its hypocrisy. They open the door to a more honest, more humble kind of religion—one rooted not just in doctrine, but in deep listening.

And for that, we must be grateful. Not because they are many—they will always be a minority. Not because they are perfect—they are human, like all of us. But because their existence, their courage, and their truth have become a mirror in which we see our own.

So yes, thank God for homosexuals. Not in irony. Not in sarcasm. But in reverence—for the sacred role they play in helping humanity grow up, and faith grow deeper.