The Sin of Exploitation, Not Orientation.

A lesson in Hebrew……

For centuries, the word “male” has served as a blunt instrument in the hands of theologians, translators, and lawmakers. Its flat, one-size-fits-all nature in the English language has become a convenient container into which a wide spectrum of human identity, function, and status has been forced to fit. But Hebrew was never that imprecise. The ancient tongue of the Tanakh, encoded with intentionality and layered meaning, possessed multiple distinct words for what English renders simply as “male.” These words did not merely reflect anatomy—they carried with them contextual clues about age, authority, function, relationship, and social status. And this matters profoundly when interpreting sacred law, especially in passages like Leviticus 18:22 and 20:13—two verses that have been viciously misused to condemn people born with same-sex orientation. This deep dive is not about reinterpreting Scripture to fit modern values; it is about returning to the original language and letting the text speak for itself—clearly, truthfully, and without distortion.

In Hebrew, nine different words are used to identify male humans. Each word speaks to a different phase of development, social position, or type of function. The most basic is yeled, which means child or young boy. Next is naʿar, which can refer to a youth, a young servant, or someone not yet of full adult status. Ben refers to a son, but also connotes a builder or heir—one who belongs to a family line. Bachur is a young man in his prime, often one who is chosen or of marrying age. Then comes zākār, a word that is crucial to this entire discussion. Zākār literally means male, but with a specific connotation: it refers to biological maleness and nothing else. It is anatomical. It lacks any status, identity, covenant, or role. In contrast, ish refers to a man who is recognized socially—one with identity, title, agency, or covenant authority. An ish is not just male by body but by function and standing. The word gever adds even more weight, denoting a dominant or assertive man—one who prevails, fights, or leads. Adam serves as a generic term for mankind or man in general. Finally, saris refers to a eunuch or a male with altered sexual capacity, often holding a special role within the royal court.

The fact that Hebrew uses all of these terms depending on context proves one thing beyond all argument: not all males are equal in identity or function within Scripture. A child is not a warrior. A servant is not a king. A son is not the head of a house. And a zākār is not an ish. Which leads us to the central issue: why does Leviticus use the word zākār in one place and ish in another?

Let’s step into the passages themselves, but only after understanding the cultural backdrop. In the ancient Hebrew world, societal structure was everything. Identity, honor, and responsibility were tethered to status and function. Titles meant something. Covenant roles were sacred. Authority was not just a matter of power, but of divine recognition. The hierarchy of male identity was embedded into the very way one was addressed. This context becomes absolutely critical when reading Leviticus 18:22 and 20:13. These are not passages written in a vacuum. They reflect a deeply stratified world, where a man’s status defined how he was to be treated, and how he was allowed to treat others.

In Leviticus 18:22, the Hebrew explicitly says: “You shall not lie with a zākār as you would with a woman. It is an abomination.” Notice the language. The word zākār is used, not ish. The text is not describing a mutual, recognized relationship between two men of equal status. It is describing an act in which one male—implicitly an ish, a man of standing—is lying with a zākār, a male of no standing, as one lies with a woman. In Hebrew culture, this means taking the dominant role over someone who is not recognized as having the social right to be treated as a sexual partner. The act is not condemned because of anatomy. It is condemned because of the social and ritual degradation that takes place when a man of status uses another male body as if it were lesser, submissive, and dehumanized—like that of a woman within that cultural frame.

Then Leviticus 20:13 provides the legal consequence for that same action. “If a man [ish] lies with a male [zākār] as one lies with a woman, both of them have committed an abomination. They shall surely be put to death.” The difference here is explicit. The word ish is used for the man committing the act—indicating he is a man of recognized position. The one he lies with remains zākār—a biologically male body without position, identity, or covenant. What’s being judged here is not the existence of same-sex attraction, nor the mutual affection between equals. What is being condemned is the social violation and identity distortion—the act of someone who is in power exploiting someone who is not, and treating them not as a fellow man, but as an object to be used sexually and passively.

Let’s clarify the analogy we’ve now formed. Picture this: a man of royalty, say a king, elder, priest, or patriarch—someone with position, title, and authority—engages in a sexual act with someone of no recognized status, like a servant, a slave, a peasant, or even a son. That act is not seen as mutual or relational. It is seen as exploitative and role-reversing. The high-status man treats the low-status male like a woman—within that culture, that meant sexual submission, degradation, and ownership. Such an act was considered a perversion of the divine order, and therefore labeled an abomination. And because ancient Israelite law revolved around order, purity, and covenant structure, this type of transgression was considered worthy of death—not because the participants were male, but because they violated sacred boundaries tied to status, identity, and honor.

So how do we reconstruct these verses now with everything we’ve unearthed—every Hebrew term, every cultural cue, every linguistic nuance? Like this:

Leviticus 18:22 says: “A man with status—such as a ruler, elder, husband, or covenant leader—shall not lie sexually with a male who has no status—such as a slave, servant, or peasant—treating him as if he were a woman. This is an abomination.” And Leviticus 20:13 says: “If a man with status—such as a leader or elder—lies with a male of no status—such as a servant, slave, or peasant—and treats him as if he were a woman, both of them have committed an abomination. They shall surely be put to death.”

Neither of these verses reference mutual consent. Neither of them condemn two adult males of equal status. And neither of them mention biological orientation. What they do describe is a sexually exploitative act driven by status imbalance, where one man treats another male as a submissive, degraded object in a role not assigned to him by covenant or culture. This is not about biology. This is about misuse of power, violation of covenant hierarchy, and the ritual implications of reversing roles in a patriarchal system.

So to be absolutely clear, these passages do not speak against a person born with same-sex attraction. They do not comment on orientation, on modern homosexuality, or on relationships between equals. They deal strictly with ritual purity, identity roles, and power dynamics within a highly structured society. The Hebrew language confirms this. The historical context confirms this. And the very choice of words—ish versus zākār—confirms this beyond any question.

What we’re left with is not a blanket condemnation of same-sex identity, but a surgically specific law against a very particular form of social and ritual exploitation. To continue to weaponize these verses against biologically gay people is not just irresponsible—it is dishonest, unjust, and completely ignorant of the original language. It is time to stop preaching condemnation from a translation that flattened the depth of Hebrew precision into generic moralism. It is time to confront what the text actually says—and what it doesn’t.

With all that said, we have to ask why do these two laws even exists in the first place? Laws do not appear in a vacuum; they are responses to cultural practices already in motion. The command in Leviticus 18:22 and the punishment in 20:13 were not issued arbitrarily, nor were they directed at love, affection, or innate orientation. They were issued as a direct confrontation against specific, common practices in the Ancient Near East—practices that revolved around the domination of one male over another through sexual subjugation. This was not rare or fringe behavior; it was widespread, ritualized, and woven into the political and religious systems of many empires.

In ancient Egypt, male servants and slaves were often subjected to sexual control by high-ranking officials and royals. Egyptian hieroglyphic inscriptions and burial art, while rarely explicit, portray the dominance hierarchy clearly enough—lower-class males and youths served the desires of their masters in every way, including sexually. In Babylon, male temple prostitution was not only normalized but considered sacred. Ritual sex acts—sometimes between males—were performed in temples as reenactments of mythological dramas, with enslaved or subordinate males being used to represent goddesses, further humiliating their status and blurring gender lines in a degrading manner.

Assyria was perhaps the most brutal. In their royal conquest records, kings like Ashurbanipal and Tiglath-Pileser III recorded with pride how they raped defeated kings and generals, forcing them into female roles as a show of absolute domination. The Assyrian curse tablets used in warfare often included threats of divine punishment by way of forced male-male rape—again, not about attraction, but about humiliation and dehumanization. In Canaan, where child sacrifice and temple prostitution were routine, sexual exploitation extended to both genders and often involved younger males who were enslaved or ceremonially stripped of identity and used as sexual offerings.

These nations practiced what we might call “status-based sexuality.” That is, the act was not driven by affection or mutual consent but by class. A powerful man could use a lesser male sexually the same way he could beat him or command him. It was about enforcing the social order. It was not considered immoral by their standards—it was simply how power was displayed. And when a man of high standing penetrated a male of lower standing, he maintained his honor while stripping the other of his. The act wasn’t even considered homosexual—it was a classification of who had power and who didn’t.

Into this world came Israel—a fledgling nation called to be set apart. Unlike her neighbors, Israel was founded not on cycles of domination, but on covenant. Every human life was declared to be made in the image of Yahwey. The law was given to preserve dignity, prevent abuse, and remove hierarchy from intimacy. This is why the language of Leviticus is so surgical. It does not say, “If a man lies with another man.” It says, “If an ish lies with a zakar as with a woman.” These are not two equivalent terms for man. An ish is a man with recognized identity—status, authority, legal and covenantal recognition. A zakar is a male classified by anatomy only—often used for boys, slaves, or individuals without title or standing. The act described is not mutual. It is one-directional. It is one of power, status, and humiliation. And in the Torah, it is classified as an abomination because it directly violates Yahwey’s covenantal structure. It reduces a covenant bearer into a pagan imitator.

So the law does not forbid orientation. It forbids imitation of foreign abusers. It draws a clear line between Israel and the nations around them. Leviticus was not addressing two men in love. It was rebuking a culture where one man used another like an object—and made it legal. The sin was never in the body. It was in the breaking of image, of covenant, and of sacred identity.

This is the foundation upon which Leviticus 18:22 and 20:13 stand. To ignore the surrounding culture is to erase the context. And to apply these verses to two consenting, biologically born same-sex individuals today is to commit the same interpretive violence that the Torah was originally trying to prevent: the flattening of people into categories that strip them of status, dignity, and name.

This is not about defending modern sexuality. It is about defending biblical truth from being twisted into a tool of hate. The Word of God never condemned what it never defined. Same-sex attraction is not the abomination. Exploitation is. Distortion of roles is. Treating another human being as beneath your covenant identity—that is the abomination. And that is where we must draw the line.