Monogamy: A Christian Myth? -By Ameerah Hashim

“Why 97% Of Christian Men Say One Wife Is Enough.”

I’ve always considered myself an avid reader—right from my mother’s womb—a curious child with a burning desire to read anything and everything with a story to tell.

Growing up, my father had these cute, tiny New Testament booklets—the kind with blue hardcovers and gold-lettered writing that always seemed as delicate as old memories.

There used to be three of them, and since I had two other siblings, I distributed the other two booklets to them—if only I had known they weren’t as fascinated with reading as I was.

Back then, I would devour the booklet like a novel. I didn’t read it to debate doctrine or understand salvation. I read it because it told stories—of prophets, of kings, of sinners and saints—and to me, if a book told a story, it was worth reading.

A few weeks ago, I stumbled upon one of those books again. It was wedged between layers of old books, dusty from years of silence, tucked away like an old secret.

Out of nostalgia, I pulled it out, wiped it clean, and flipped through its tiny pages until I landed on a verse in Timothy that sent my senses spiraling into a whirlwind of curiosity.

In the verse, it said a man should be the husband of one wife. It mentioned this in relation to ‘bishops’—as in, ‘men of God.’ That phrase. ‘Men of God.’ and not ‘all men’.

Then I thought back to the days when I would so adamantly hear my classmates talk about how it is a sin for a man to be with more than one woman.

I read the verse again and again, and I wondered: why?

Why have we come to treat this as a blanket rule—that every Christian man must only marry one woman, or risk sin? I mean, isn’t it clearly stated there that it isn’t a general rule but a specific one?

Naturally, I Googled the verse for better understanding. What I found was a mess. Contradictions and layers of interpretation. Bold declarations that polygamy is a sin, even though the Bible is filled with men who had multiple wives—Abraham, Jacob, David, Solomon.

That contradiction sparked a question I couldn’t ignore. Why is polygamy in the Bible, yet considered ungodly by those who uphold the Bible? Why are Abraham, Jacob, and David seen as patriarchs of faith, yet modern men condemned for having more than one wife? Is it really about sin, or about changing societal values?

Why the switch? When did polygamy become unbiblical?

As a Muslim woman, I’m not here to judge. I’m here because I’m curious.

So, I decided to ask Christian men directly:

I asked them what they truly think about polygamy—not what the pulpit says, not what Sunday school taught, but what they personally believe. And what they told me opened a whole new door.

Polygamy isn’t just in the Bible —it’s all over it. Abraham, the father of nations, had more than one wife. Jacob, who fathered the twelve tribes of Israel, had four. David, a man after God’s own heart, had multiple wives. Solomon? Well, his list of wives and concubines could rival a small kingdom.

Yet, none of these men were condemned for it. Their polygamy wasn’t seen as rebellion. It was considered normal, cultural, and still holy.

So where did the shift happen?

Many Christian men I surveyed pointed to the New Testament—especially Paul’s letters—as the foundation of monogamy in the faith.

Specifically, Timothy 3:2, which says, “A bishop then must be blameless, the husband of one wife…”

But here’s the tension. the verse speaks of bishops. Elders. Leaders. Men of God, not every man. So when did this instruction become a law for all believers?

When you trace the early church, you’ll find that monogamy wasn’t always enforced. In fact, some early Christian communities— especially those outside Europe—continued to tolerate polygamy for centuries.

Even today, there are small Christian sects across Africa and the Middle East where polygamy still exists, quietly and without public scandal.

Some Protestant denominations in Africa allow converted polygamists to keep their wives. Why? Because breaking up families is a greater evil than keeping them together.

So again, I ask: is monogamy biblical, or is it European? Is it spiritual, or is it colonial? And if Jesus himself never directly condemned polygamy—never preached a sermon against it—then what exactly are we calling a sin?

This is where things get uncomfortable. Because most modern Christian views on marriage are shaped more by Western ideals than by scripture alone. Monogamy aligns with the nuclear family model—one man, one woman, two kids, one uncomplicated household. This only only fits capitalism and predictability.

But it doesn’t erase the truth: the Bible does not declare polygamy a sin. In fact, the silence is often louder than the commands.

One of the most striking things that came out of the survey was this:

Most Christian men I spoke to didn’t stop at “it’s not what the Bible teaches.” They went further. They called polygamy unethical, irrational, Immoral, and wrong.

Not just religiously—but universally.

And that’s when I paused.

Because if the Bible doesn’t outright call polygamy a sin, and if some early Christian cultures permitted it, then this resistance must be coming from somewhere deeper— somewhere more emotional than scriptural.

It made me wonder: when people say ‘it’s wrong’. What do they really mean? Do they mean it’s unchristian? Or do they mean it’s inconvenient?

Does ‘wrong’ mean ‘ungodly’. Or just ‘uncomfortable’?

Let’s be honest—monogamy feels more ideal. It’s cleaner. Easier to manage.

Our generation is already struggling to emotionally satisfy one partner, let alone two or three. Most men can barely communicate with their wives, let alone navigate the emotional labor of multiple women. And in a world where commitment is shaky and divorce is high, polygamy feels like adding fuel to the fire.

But is that a religious problem? Or is it a human one?

Many of the Christian men I interviewed said polygamy is ‘economically bad.’ They argued that in today’s economy, one wife is more than enough. And they’re right. It’s expensive. Emotionally and financially. But again—that’s not scripture talking. That’s the economy. That’s capitalism. That’s Nigeria in 2025 where rent is rising, salaries are shrinking, and love has a price tag.

What this shows is that most people’s rejection of polygamy isn’t rooted in theology —it’s rooted in practicality. In personal ethics, In fear of chaos. And that’s okay.

You can believe something is wrong because it doesn’t work for you. But let’s not confuse personal ethics with divine law.

That’s where the real problem lies.

Because the moment we elevate personal preference to religious doctrine, we start drawing lines God never drew. We start creating sins out of discomfort. And we start condemning what scripture chose not to condemn—simply because it doesn’t align with our modern image of a healthy, manageable, Instagrammable marriage.

Polygamy, for Muslims, isn’t a taboo. It’s regulated. Yes—not encouraged without deep responsibility—but it’s still a valid, sacred part of Islamic marital law. The Qur’an permits it, with conditions: “Marry women of your choice, two, three, or four; but if you fear that you will not be just, then only one…” (Qur’an 4:3).

The emphasis isn’t on quantity. It’s on justice.

And while many Muslims today choose monogamy—by preference or circumstance— the concept of polygamy isn’t demonized. It isn’t treated as backward or shameful. In fact, many Muslim societies still approach it as a solution—for widows, for social imbalance, for genuine love stories that don’t follow a linear path.

What struck me most while doing this research was the sheer contrast. In Christian spaces, polygamy is seen as a moral failure. In Muslim spaces, it’s seen as a moral responsibility—something you don’t enter into unless you’re spiritually and emotionally capable of doing right by it.

One faith treats it as a relic of the past, the other, as a permission granted by the divine.

So I asked myself again: why the hostility? Why the disgust in some Christian responses?

If it’s not about faith—and let’s face it, scripture is full of nuance—then maybe it’s about image. About the kind of faith modern Christians want to be seen as practicing. Maybe it’s about distance — about proving that they’re not like the polygamous cultures out there, not like the ‘Old Testament days,’ not like those Muslims.

Maybe it’s about respectability.

But what if it’s also about fear? Because to accept that polygamy isn’t inherently evil would mean unlearning years of Christian teachings. It would mean questioning sermons, re-reading scripture without Western glasses, and sitting with the uncomfortable truth that sometimes, religion and culture are hard to separate.

As a Muslim woman, I don’t think polygamy is a fairy tale. I don’t even think it’s something every man should attempt. In fact, I believe it’s often abused, misused, and misunderstood— even in Muslim communities.

But I also believe that calling it “immoral” without nuance is lazy thinking. It’s easy to dismiss what we don’t understand. It’s harder to interrogate our biases.

And maybe that’s what this entire piece is about—not to say who’s right, but to ask why we’re so afraid to be unsure.

I asked. Not as a theologian. Not as a scholar. Just a curious Muslim woman, wondering how Christian men—real, everyday ones—feel about polygamy. The response was overwhelming. I received a wave of replies. Some gentle. Some harsh. Some layered with theology, others dripping with opinion. But across the board, one thing was loud and clear:

97% of the men said one woman is enough.

That’s not just a preference. That’s a conviction. One man, one woman—anything outside of that is, to them, not just unwise, but unrighteous.

But here’s where things got interesting.

When I asked them why, they didn’t all reach for the Bible first. Many of them talked about Jesus abolishing polygamy. Some said the New Testament made it obsolete. Others claimed that polygamy was ‘just Old Testament culture’—something humanity has since evolved from.

Yet when pushed to point to where exactly Jesus abolished it, they hesitated. They couldn’t quite name the verse. Some mentioned Paul’s letters. Others admitted that there’s no direct condemnation — “but we just know it’s wrong.”

That phrase stuck with me. We just know.

Because that’s not doctrine. That’s conditioning.

They said polygamy is unethical. That it doesn’t feel right. That no decent man would put a woman through that. One even points how it “reeks of African traditionalism,” as if that alone invalidated it. Another said it was “beneath modern civilization,” forgetting that polygamy still exists quietly—in the West, just under new names: mistresses, side chicks, serial marriages.

They talked about money—how hard it is to even handle one household. They talked about emotional strain, about loyalty, about the risk of jealousy and heartbreak. And truly, those are all fair points. But they are human points—not heavenly decrees.

And that’s what I found most fascinating: many of the men I spoke to weren’t quoting Jesus. They were quoting their comfort zones.

So here we are—in a world where the Bible doesn’t quite say what people think it says, where Jesus never directly condemned what many consider a sin, and where the Church’s stance on polygamy has evolved more from culture than scripture.

What we believe isn’t always based on what’s written.

Sometimes it’s based on what we want to be true.

I didn’t write this to promote polygamy. That’s not the hill I’m dying on.

I wrote this because I’m curious. Because I believe in interrogating what we believe—not just parroting it. Because somewhere between Timothy’s quiet instructions, the cultural noise around marriage, and the reactions I got from Christian men, I realized something:

Most people don’t know where their beliefs come from.

We inherit ideas the way we inherit furniture— untouched, unquestioned, handed down from people we assume were wiser. But faith isn’t furniture. It should be sat with. Dismantled and reassembled.

So now, I’m asking:

If Jesus never condemned polygamy, why do we treat it like a sin?

If the New Testament talks about church leaders marrying one wife, why do we assume that applies to everyone?

If ethics have replaced theology, when did we vote God out of His own laws?

And if polygamy is truly wrong, then is Abraham wrong? Is David? Is Jacob?

These aren’t questions meant to provoke outrage. They’re meant to provoke thought. Because that’s where true faith lives—not in blind certainty, but in brave questioning.

I am a Muslim woman. That’s not something I hide in my writing. In Islam, we don’t claim to know everything. We are taught to ask, to doubt, to wrestle. And while I know polygamy has its dark sides—I’ve seen it wound people, I’ve seen it done without justice—I also know that religion is not the enemy of complexity. Humans are.

The truth is, polygamy is messy. So is monogamy. So is marriage. So is love. We sanitize faith to make it easier to swallow, but real belief—the kind that changes you—is uncomfortable.

So, dear reader, Christian or not, the next time you dismiss something as ‘unbiblical,’ ask yourself:

Is it truly unbiblical?

Or is it just inconvenient?

That’s it. That’s the question.

And it’s okay if you don’t have the answer yet.

Brief bio:

Ameerah Hashim is a Nigerian writer with a passion for exploring faith, culture, and identity through creative storytelling. As a Muslim woman deeply engaged with both Islamic and Christian traditions, her work often explores nuanced perspectives on religious practices and their impact on contemporary life. 

Why this topic matters:

This piece is born from my curiosity and personal experience navigating faith in a multicultural and multi-religious society. I wanted to challenge common assumptions about polygamy in Christianity by listening directly to Christian men’s voices and reflecting on how religious teachings intersect with cultural norms. For me, faith isn’t about certainty—it’s about asking difficult questions and embracing complexity.