Not so Fast, Joe Carter of the Gospel Coalition!



Today I came across this piece, by the Gospel Coalition’s Joe Carter, arguing that there’s no real demand for gay marriage. Using back-of-the-envelope math, Carter figures that, if LGBT Americans were as interested in marriage as straight Americans, we would expect that before Obergefell there would already have been 2.2 million gay marriages in the US. Instead, he says, there were 170,000. Catholic conservative Patrick Deneen caught Carter’s post and tweeted it, saying, “One might conclude that SSM was really a shrewd effort to eliminate Christianity from American life.”

Now, I don’t know what your facebook feed has looked like over the past few years, but mine has been full of gay marriages. In just the past two weeks, I’ve watched three gay couples celebrate their wedding anniversaries; all of them got married in the months after gay marriage became legal in their home states. My timeline is also full of gay friends preparing for their upcoming weddings, gay couples who recently got married, and straight friends posting pictures of themselves at same-sex weddings. I did a quick tally of my out gay friends on facebook, and found that about half are either married or engaged.

The plural of anecdote isn’t data, though, and it’s possible my friends are exceptional. It’s definitely true that they represent a demographic (educated, youngish) that’s more likely than average to get married (And more likely stay married. And more likely to support SSM. Make of that what you will). Still, it’s hard to believe the discrepancy between my experiences and Carter’s statistics could be that profound. Are my friends that rare?

I didn’t think so, so I checked Carter’s analysis. Surprise, surprise—I found some glaring flaws.

First, Carter uses data that ends in 2013, and presents it as if it came from later. The 170,000 number that Carter says represents the number of gay couples married before Obergefell actually comes from data collected between January and December of 2013. That matters—big time—because with marriage equality, dramatic legal changes happened in a very short time period. And that time period happens to be exactly the gap that Carter is ignoring.

Specifically, at the start of 2013, only nine states and the District of Columbia allowed gay marriage, and three of those (Washington, Maine, and Maryland) had had it for less than a month. And all of those states were clustered in the Northeast, with the exceptions of Iowa and Washington (where SSM started in December of 2012). Several more states gained gay marriage during 2013, but all of those were added in the second half of the year and therefore would not have been fully reflected in the data Carter cites.

So when Carter blithely bases his analysis on the assumption that “any lesbian or gay couple who wanted to get married could have either married in their own state or crossed state lines to get a marriage license”… um, well, no.

In fact, at the start of 2013, a gay couple in Austin would have had to travel 930 miles to get married in Des Moines; a couple in San Francisco would have had to go 800 miles to wed in Seattle; one in LA would have had to go at least 1100 miles. That’s not feasible for lots of couples.

Without that assumption, Carter’s argument falls apart: it turns out the number of gay marriages in 2013 wasn’t low because gays didn’t care about marriage; it was low because most gays in the US couldn’t get married then.

Carter misrepresents the timeline of SSM legalization elsewhere, too. “By that year,” Carter writes of 2014, “35 states allowed same sex marriage.” In fact, at the start of 2014, only 16 states performed legal gay marriages, and seven of those—including the largest, California, had only started in the last half of 2013.

These timeline mix-ups—clear cut, factual mistakes that an honest writer (and I assume Carter is honest) will admit and correct—allow Carter to suggest that, at a time when virtually all LGBT Americans could legally wed, only 340,000 (roughly 4%) had chosen to do so.


But even putting aside Carter’s chronology confusion, his suggestion is problematic because it takes an inappropriate point of comparison for LGBT marriage rates. He writes, “Based on those assumptions (all of which I think are more than plausible), we should expect to see 2.2 million same-sex marriages even before the Supreme Court ruling.”

Carter bases that number, 2.2 million, on the fact that nearly half of all American adults (49.8%) were married. Carter estimates that there are 8.5 million LGBT Americans, divides that by about half, and then pairs that 49.8% off.

But while it’s true that half of Americans are married, very few Americans get married in a given year. See the difference? 159 millions Americans were married in 2014, but all of those Americans didn’t wed in 2014. Some of them tied the knot in 2013, some in 2012, and some twenty, thirty, fifty years ago.

Furthermore, marriage isn’t a right that, when given, you can exercise like free speech. You can’t just walk outside and say, “I’m married!” You have to either a) be in a relationship with someone you want to marry (and not everyone is), or b) find someone you want to marry, build a relationship with them, and convince them to marry you. That takes time. And while we all loved watching couples rush down to the courthouse, the reality is that most people want a wedding, and that takes time to plan. I’ve written about my sister-in-law, for example: marriage became a real possibility for her when SSM was legalized in New York in July of 2011—that was the event that led her wife to propose—but she didn’t actually get married until December of 2012.

It’s absurd to suggest that, if gays were really interested in marriage, 2.2 million of them would have wed by 2013.

A more useful number to keep in mind is 6.8: that’s the number of weddings per 1000 Americans in 2012, the last year for which statistics are available. That means that only about 1.36% (.68% x 2) of Americans got married in 2012.

Let’s take a look, then, at Carter’s predicted SSM numbers keeping that number in mind. Let’s say that marriage became truly feasible for the vast majority of gay couples with its legalization in New York in July of 2011—which, again, is a BIG stretch. Over the next two years, if gay couples were as interested in marriage as straight couples, we would expect about 119,000 couples (238,000 individuals) to have married by July 2013. According to Carter’s estimate, 170,000 couples (340,000 individuals) had.

Now, we would expect the number for gays to be higher (maybe much higher) than that of straights due to pent-up demand. As best we can tell, it was higher. And, of course, some gays have been able to marry since 2004, so that skews things a bit. But, again, it’s simply not the case that marriage was feasible for most gays by 2013. Gays (like my sister-in-law) who married before Windsor faced geographical, financial, and legal barriers that straight couples did not, and they wed without any guarantee that their home states or the federal government would recognize their relationships. Given those facts, the number of couples who went ahead and jumped the broom is, in my opinion, pretty impressive.

The percentage of married LGBT Americans will undoubtedly increase over the coming years. How dramatically? I don’t know. Will it ever equal the 49.8% average of all Americans? Again, I don’t know, but that doesn’t really matter. The fact that some gays might not be interested in marriage is no reason to deny the right to all of them.

What is absolutely clear is this: my friends are not unicorns. My sister-in-law is not a mirage. Nor are they elaborate covers for some sinister secular plot to eliminate Christianity from American life. You can rest easy, Deneen. You’re welcome.

It’s also clear that Carter’s analysis is flawed, as I’m sure he’ll admit when he re-considers the facts

The Church’s Job is NOT to Teach 2 + 2 = 4

When you’ve been arguing with the religious right over gay marriage for a while, you get used to having certain comparisons thrown your way: gay marriage is like calling a circle a square, it’s like calling a tail a leg, calling a cat a dog, yada yada yada.

Here’s another common one: gay marriage is like saying 2 + 2 = 5.

Here’s Anthony Esolen, saying that with Obergefell the Supreme Court “has recently decreed that two and two are five”; here’s Ben Carson making the same analogy a year earlier.

The idea is that the Church, and the wiser elements of society, are supposed to reject that sort of funny math and stand up for the good old square arithmetic that we all learned in grammar school. Rod Dreher lays it out here in an exchange last year with Andrew Sullivan:

We have been over and over and over this, and all the vehemence and foot-stomping in the world will not change basic Christianity on this point, and certainly will not change Roman Catholicism. Two plus two will always equal four in Catholicism.

Dreher, in Dreherian fashion, follows that with a dig at my church: “There is a church that takes Andrew’s line on sex; it’s called the Episcopal Church.” No surprise there.

Now, I’ve got really smart readers, so what follows may not be news to many of you, but I’m not a math guy, and this blew me away when I read it last year in Jordan Ellenberg’s “How Not to Be Wrong” column at Slate. Ellenberg, a mathematician at the University of Wisconsin, asks, “Is the repeating decimal 0.999… equal to 1?” And he answers yes, it is.

Here’s the reasoning:

Everyone knows that

0.333… = 1/3

Multiply both sides by 3 and you’ll see

0.999… = 3 / 3 = 1

If that doesn’t sway you, try multiplying 0.999… by 10, which is just a matter of moving the decimal point one spot to the right.

10 x (0.999…) = 9.999…

Now subtract the vexing decimal from both sides.

10 x (0.999…) – 1 x (0.999…) = 9.999… – 0.999…..

The left-hand side of the equation is just 9 times (0.999…), because 10 times something minus that something is 9 times the aforementioned thing. And over on the right-hand side, we have managed to cancel out the terrible infinite decimal, and are left with a simple 9. So we end up with

9 x (0.999…) = 9.

If 9 times something is 9, that something just has to be 1—doesn’t it?

Ellenberg ties his answer to a handful of fascinating paradoxes, including Grandi’s series, named after the 18th Century mathematician who argued that, despite appearances, the sum of the series 1 – 1 + 1 – 1 + 1 – 1 +… equals ½.

Like I said, I this blew my mind. And then, when I read a) that Guido Grandi was a Benedictine monk who tied his findings to the mysteries of creation and b) that divergent series like Grandi’s have been called “the invention of the devil,” my parabolic mind got to work.

Because there is a lesson in there, and I think the lesson is this: the Church’s job is not to teach 2 + 2 = 4. If that’s all she does, then what’s her point? You can learn that counting on the skeletal fingers of Christopher Hitchens’ inanimate corpse.

[Sorry for the image, but it’s the least church-y thing I could come up with.]

The Church’s more important job is to teach how .999…—which never can be 1—is, in fact, 1. The problem is that this is risky work: it opens the Church to a certain type of criticism. Ellenberg notes that this type of thinking might look like relativism; it seems to move away from objective truth. But running that risk is precisely the Church’s job; that’s what makes her indispensable.

From KHOU: Dash Teammates Wed

This story hits all my favorite things: sports, marriage equality, Texas.

Houston Dash teammates Ella McLeod (née Masar) and Erin McLeod married immediately after the Women’s World Cup, and were back in Houston in time for the Dash’s July 12th game against the Chicago Red Stars.

In one sense, this story is NBD (except, of course, to the newlyweds!); but in a historic sense, it’s pretty amazing to consider the non-controversial treatment the story gets from the KHOU interviewer.

Is this really it? A Mixtape for the Catholic Right.

[Got a box full of letters, think you might like to read.]

You know that feeling when you’re sixteen and you and your girlfriend/boyfriend are going through a weird patch? You hear they want some space, that they’re spending all this time with someone new? They’ve been slagging you off to their friends?

What do you do?

You make a mixtape.


It’s hard to say. Your motivation changes from song to song. Obviously, you’re sad—you want them to feel that. But you want to do it coolly, in a way that shows how stoically you’re dealing with all of this. Because maybe there’s a little part of you that thinks this is the way to win them back?

So you start with something cool, like Wilco. Then maybe go to something ironic, show you haven’t lost your sense of humor:

[Don’t you want me, baby?]

But sometimes you misstep: it’s hard to hold the balance between reminding them of the good times (which makes you sad) and playing it cool.

[The ride with you was worth the fall, Catholic Right.]

And honestly, there’s some jealousy: Who is this Benedict? When did that become an option?

[Another version of me? Is she perverted like me?]

But then you read what they’ve been writing and realize that it’s all a bunch of adolescent fantasies and you wonder what the hell you ever saw in this person anyway. And you hear what they’ve been saying about you, and you’re all like Fucking go.

[Because I do know what’s good for me. And I’ve done what I could for you.]

But you can’t leave it at that; as good as it felt to say that, you’ve got to find some way to leave things open:

[Shoot! Another misstep.]

Let’s try that again:

A Ralph Ellison Essay for the 4th of July

[America, may God thy gold refine.]

If you’re looking for some 4th of July reading to fill the time while you wait for fireworks, I recommend Ralph Ellison’s “Going to the Territory.”

It was published in his 1986 book of essays by the same name; originally, it was a speech Ellison gave at Brown University in honor of Inman Page, the first black graduate of Brown, who had also been the principal of Ellison’s segregated high school in Oklahoma City.

Why do I like it so much? And why should you read it today?

Well, it’s an argument for Ellison’s complicated, sometimes contradictory vision of America, which I would say is the dominant theme in all of his writing. It’s at once a conservative view—fully embracing the “irrepressible force” that Ellison says our Founding Fathers “set in motion over two hundred years ago with the founding of this nation”—and a radical one. “By seeking to move forward,” Ellison writes, “we find ourselves looking back and discovering with some surprise from whence we’ve come.” To know where to go from here, Ellison tells us, we have to look back—but when we do, we need to prepared to be surprised by we see.

“Going to the Territory” surprises us by giving us a glimpse of early-20th-century black culture where we don’t normally expect to find it: the prairies of the American West and Southwest. Ellison lovingly describes his Oklahoma City teachers (including Page and Page’s daughter, his music teacher Mrs. Zelia N. Breaux), and the ways those teachers sought to prepare their students for entry into mainstream society by inculcating them with bourgeois values. At the same time, Ellison describes the fertile, anti-bourgeois jazz community—he went to high school with Charlie Christian and grew up hearing Jimmy Rushing’s voice ringing through the neighborhood—that developed in a sort of (loving) opposition to those teachers.

By focusing on Oklahoma City and the communities that developed around black migration into the West, Ellison takes an American myth—westward expansion—and places black culture at its center. What’s unstated in the essay is that Ellison’s father, Lewis, served in the 25th Infantry Regiment of the US Army, one of the so-called “Buffalo Soldier” units that paved the way for the “taming” of the western territories. In other words, Ellison understood that placing blacks at the center of American myth was no mere conceit: it’s a fact of our history.

It’s dinner time here, but there’s so much more to say about this essay. I love the way Ellison makes jazz into a metaphor for the American experience; specifically, Ellison talks about jazz as “antagonistic cooperation,” a phrase that I think is worth keeping in mind now that half the country is talking about civil war. I love the way the essay expounds on the themes Ellison suggests in “Living with Music” (1955), my all-time favorite piece of Ellison writing; most of all, I love the way Ellison finds a way to be proud of his country while holding it accountable for its flaws.