Wednesday, September 30, 2009

Leading with Women's Bodies

A couple of weeks ago, the Faith and Leadership Project at Duke Div posted an essay by Fred Bahnson, which I commend to your attention. Our choices about eating have implications not just for the health of our own bodies but for our relationship with the whole created order, and church leaders are in a position to help their congregations reflect and act in ways that promote health and wholeness on both a personal and cosmic scale.

Hear, hear.

There is one thing about the article that bugs me, though.
First, a church leader can lead with her own body. She can model the kind of health she expects in those she serves. But more importantly she can lead our corporate body -- the church -- toward a more holistic, sacramental way of eating so that its members’ bodies can thrive.

Now, most of the time I'm all for the use of feminine pronouns when writing about a generic individual. And I'm sure the author's word choice here only intends to acknowledge and affirm the reality of female leaders in the church.

But when the subject under discussion is food and bodies, the gendered language is loaded.

The church, in general, continually exhibits symptoms of being more anxious about the bodies of its female leaders than those of its male leaders. It seems that congregants -- both female and male -- are more aware of the wardrobe and weight fluctuations of their women leaders, and more inclined to make judgments about the person's credibility and authority based on her appearance. There are all kinds of cultural and historical explanations for this that I'm not going rehash here; suffice to say I wouldn't be making a big deal out of a couple of pronouns if they didn't call to mind a much broader pattern.

Granted, in this case, it would also have been problematic to describe our hypothetical clergyperson with masculine terms. But there's a reason God gave us plural pronouns. Calling the church leaders "they," or better yet, "we," would have been a simple change, and would have stripped the essay of any hint of a male expert telling women clergy to watch what they eat.

I'm of two minds about the heightened attention to a church leader's body that seems to accrue when that body happens to be female. Part of me resents the unfairness of it, and wants to challenge what seems to be latent sexism. Would you have made that remark about your pastor's weight gain if your pastor were a man? Really?

But we would miss out on so many teachable moments if we tried to get people to forget that women clergy have bodies. I treasure the work of women theologians on the subject of bodies; the church would be deeply impoverished had they chosen to avoid this topic because it's stereotypically "feminine." Likewise, the church may be enriched when women pastors are comfortable and confident enough to address body issues with their congregations, whether in the pulpit, the classroom, or the coffee-and-doughnuts line.

Wednesday, September 02, 2009

Sunsets and hummingbirds, praise ye the Lord!
Respirators and check-engine lights, praise ye the Lord!
Fig trees and compost heaps, praise ye the Lord!
Visas for foreign trips, praise ye the Lord!

He has done marvelous, marvelous things!
I, too, will praise him with a new song.

Burglar alarms and ice-cube trays, praise ye the Lord!
Dorm rooms and history class, praise ye the Lord!
E-mail and Fed'ral Express, praise ye the Lord!
Bicycles and barbeques, praise ye the Lord!

He has done marvelous, marvelous things!
I, too, will praise him with a new song.

Sunday, August 16, 2009

Gotta love the rural midwest

Spotted along the major highway through Edmore, Michigan (pop. 1244):

[Sign with arrow pointing left]: HIGH SCHOOL
[Sign with arrow pointing right]: DRAG STRIP

Tuesday, July 14, 2009

Book Review: Singled Out: Why Celibacy Must be Reinvented in Today's Church

Singled Out: Why Celibacy Must Be Reinvented in Today's Church by Christine Colon and Bonnie Field (Brazos Press: 2009).

Who should read it: Thoughtful single evangelicals and anyone interested in ministry in a society that is rapidly approaching population parity between married and single adults.

(Edit: a reliable source just told me that we have passed the parity point in the U.S.: there are now more single adults than married.)

The word "Why" is in the subtitle for a reason. This book does not, nor does it claim to, offer a Reinvention of Celibacy for Today's Church. It offers a plea for such reinvention, together with some preliminary suggestions of what that might look like. The book is not a definitive resource, but an invitation to a conversation that is essential for the future of the evangelical church's mission in modern culture.

In this respect, the book reminds me most of Mark Noll's now-classic (if I can say that of a book written in my lifetime) The Scandal of the Evangelical Mind. The stance of the authors is as follows: "I am a committed evangelical. And I am also [an intellectual; a single adult]. The evangelical subculture makes it very hard to be both. This is not only difficult for me personally, but possibly tragic for our collective calling, and needs to be addressed." The authors then spend the bulk of their books analyzing the problem, and make gestures in the direction of a solution in the closing chapters.

This can be frustrating to readers, since the person most likely to pick up either book in the first place is probably already on board with the author's project. We don't need to be convinced that this is an issue; we want to know what to do about it. But of course, understanding the problem is a critical first step to finding a way forward. Colon and Field offer a thoughtful analysis of attitudes about singleness in evangelical and secular culture, as well as an exploration of the resources in scripture and the Christian tradition for a vision of celibacy for the contemporary church.

The primary population addressed in this book is the one in which the authors find themselves: 30+ straight, never-married adults -- a group often overlooked by the evangelical church, which, when it does address singles at all, tends to assume that they are either young 20somethings who will soon be married or single again due to divorce or widowhood. While they acknowledge that this is only one of many states of life in which singleness is experienced in our culture and churches, they rightly point out that a positive vision of the state of life of a life-long single adult can provide the church with a healthy foundation for addressing the pastoral needs of other subsets of single adults.

Perhaps I am projecting, but I imagine that the authors found it cathartic to commit to print their critiques of some of the resources available within evangelicaldom, particularly Debbie Maken's atrocious book Getting Serious About Getting Married. Single Christian readers who have been frustrated by even some of the better materials available to them will find encouragement in the clear-headed analysis. Yet the book is anything but an extended gripe session -- the authors are honest about the challenges of being single in the church without being whiny, and spend considerably more effort mining evangelicalism, secular culture, and the broad Christian tradition for a positive understanding of the single life and its place in the church. (The exploration of positive images of celibacy from secular culture is a bit of a stretch, but an interesting project nonetheless.)

The key call of this book is for evangelicalism to embrace and offer a positive vision of celibacy that applies to all singles. Rather than reserving the label of celibacy for the super-spiritual and/or asexual minority who are able and willing to accept a vowed state of non-marriage for life, the dignity of celibacy should be afforded to and expected of the growing population within the church who continue to hope for marriage over years or decades of single adult life, but are unwilling to make the pursuit of a spouse the entire focus of their lives. By honoring the discipleship of such individuals within our churches and including them wholly in our common life, the church can nurture not only them, but the next generation of young people growing up in a world utterly confused about sex and relationships, as well as any outsiders who (we can only pray) might look to us for an alternative vision of human flourishing.

ETA: I wonder how this book might have been different with a male co-author. Unlike many books for/about Christian singles, this book is not addressed exclusively or primarily to women, and I don't detect any obvious gender bias. Still, I would be interested to hear from single men which parts of the book rang true or false to them and what their experiences might add to the discussion.

Friday, July 10, 2009

bon anniversaire, cher Jean



Get the John Calvin birthday clock at Calvin 500


(I'm sure I've messed up the French somehow. Please forgive me.)

Tuesday, June 30, 2009

I forgot to mention the grapes

Grandparents' houses ought to have mysterious and magical nooks and crannies that invite a child's imagination into another time or place.
This house fills that obligation in spades.
The most magical part of this household is the avocado tree, with a canopy that cuts out the outside world and a network of branches that easily become a house, a fort, or a pirate ship.
Less suitable to play, but still marvelous in its otherworldliness, is the Rock Room: so called, I believe, because its original purpose was to house my grandmother's lapidary equipment. It's a lean-to built off the side of the garage with fiberglass sheeting for walls. The rock equipment is still there on a lower shelf, but now the room functions mainly as a potting shed and catch-all for garden odds and ends. Besides the chairs hanging from the ceiling, which always reminded me of the floating tea party scene from Mary Poppins, there is an antique push-mower (which only seems mysterious and special if you don't have to use it) and a bullhorn-style speaker hanging in the corner for no apparent reason.
The best thing about the Rock Room is the way the grape vines growing around that side of the house have wound their way inside, giving it the air of a tropical greenhouse. While the Rock Room grapes get less direct sunlight than the outdoor grapes, they get more warmth, and so mature faster. They outside grapes are still green, but those dangling from the ceiling of the Rock Room have turned deep purple.

Saturday, June 27, 2009

Garden notebook

I haven't updated about our garden yet this spring. Much has happened. Come see.


Alas, no apricots this year. Neither tree bore particularly well last year, and we chopped down the less-healthy of the two after the end of the season. This spring, the one remaining apricot tree failed to blossom. GrandDad hypothesizes that it is badly in need of pruning (see above), so plans to have it aggressively whacked back in the fall.


The plum tree, on the other hand, more than made up for the shortfall in apricots. The plums ripened three weeks earlier this year than they had last year (May 13 or so, versus June 3). And they kept coming. I think there was a solid week in which I collected over 100 plums every day, with at least two days breaking the 200-fruit mark. At the peak of the harvest, we had about five buckets of plums in the refrigerator, which didn't leave much room for anything else.

There are just a few late plums left on the tree now, but the harvest is pretty much done.

The blackberries are also nearing the end of the season.

I have six varieties of tomato growing in the area of the yard where the second apricot tree used to be. The big monster plant in the middle, a cherry tomato, produced its first ripe fruit a week or so ago. The others have a ways to go yet, although the pineapple tomato has really shot up in the last few weeks, and the Greek tomato has a couple green fruit visible.

Most of my tomatoes are transplants from the garden center, but I did manage to start a couple from seed this year. The first few seedlings I transplanted out, in early spring, didn't make it -- they turned pale and sort of sickly-looking for the first week after transplant, and then, as soon as they seemed to be recovering and starting to grow again, something ate them! So I kept a couple more of the seedlings inside a little longer and nursed them along in pots on the sun porch until they were about 6-8 inches tall and better able to fend for themselves. We transplanted them out in early June, and they seem to be doing okay so far.

Squash are easier than tomatoes to start from seed, because the seeds are so much bigger. I got ridiculously excited when the seedlings broke up through the dirt where I had planted them.

The first squash of the season is partly visible in the picture above, if you know where to look.

It's 4 or 5 inches here. Will be ready to pick in a day or two.

We also have zucchini and a mystery variety of winter squash (from a seed envelope GrandDad had, marked simply "squash").

It's also been a good year for avocados. We got the first ripe ones in March and have had a steady supply since then. Avocados don't finally ripen until after they're removed from the tree, which means that you can store them on the tree until you need them. We had a couple of heavy wind storms in the spring that knocked down a bunch of the fruit, but most of them are still up there.


Next year's avocados are coming along, as well. Our avocado bears on a two-year cycle and tends to alternate heavy and light years, but the current evidence suggests that next year's crop should be healthy, as well.

ETA: Grrr! Blogger ate my photos! Not that they're that much to look at, but still. I think I've set it so they won't just disappear this time...

ETA: WYSIWYG my foot.

Friday, June 26, 2009

I didn't throw the damn rice hard enough

One of my earliest memories -- perhaps the earliest memory, if you account for the fact that my other earliest memory is indubitably shaped by hearing my parents' retelling of the event, whereas this one is mine alone -- is of a wedding. Or rather, a snippet of the reception -- I actually have zero recollection of the wedding proper, and quite possibly wasn't even there.

What I remember is that a little girl, a little older than I was -- I think she may have been the youngest sister of the bride -- took it upon herself to make sure that I wasn't left out of the big send-off, in which the collected guests would pelt the happy couple with rice (this was back in the day when they still used rice for this kind of thing). So she took me to her mother, who poured a small quantity of rice into my cupped hands. I carried my precious little mound of rice around for what seemed like forever but was probably just a couple of minutes. Since both of my hands were involved in holding my rice, I really couldn't do anything until it was thrown. My nose almost certainly started to itch. Finally, we all gathered along some kind of walkway for the grand exit, and as the bride and groom came by, I threw my rice ...

... and completely missed my target.

The marriage that we were then celebrating is now disintegrating.

If I were superstitious as well as neurotic, I think I really would be bemoaning my inadequately developed small motor coordination lo those decades ago. The throwing of the rice was for luck, right? And where is the luck now?

The thing is, it takes more than luck...

I went to a healing service at a nearby church the other day to pray for this family. But I got there late, and the service was tucked away in a side chapel with no rear entrance where I could sneak in without being inordinately disruptive, and I didn't know anyone there and so felt doubly awkward, so I decided to just stay in the courtyard and do my praying there.

The church has a labyrinth laid into the courtyard floor, so I quickly decided to walk the labyrinth on behalf of this family I have loved all my life, praying for each member in turn as I wound my way through the circuits.

On the other occasions that I have walked a labyrinth, I've always gotten distracted by wondering how far I was from the center. This is part of the nature of the medieval-style labyrinth design, which takes the walker in and out as they move through each quadrant. You find yourself walking right next to the center when you're still only a fraction of the way into the path, then walking along the outer edge when you are in fact almost to the center.

This time, though, these near-constant reversals of direction did not pull my attention away from what I was praying. Rather, it seemed especially suited to my prayers for loved ones who are travelling a path that they never expected or planned to be on, for which there is no clear and obvious way forward to -- what? It's hard to even know what to hope for when a family is in crisis like this. To hope that things go back to the way they were before seems impossibly naive, yet my imagination fails to provide an alternate good future.

The only bit of distraction came when I found myself in the center sooner than I had expected. Had I really wound my way through the entire pathway already? I wasn't even halfway done with my prayer. It was actually a bit jarring to find myself already having reached my goal.

Turns out, the walking was as much a prayer as the words I breathed. May God give my loved ones peace, focus, and an assurance of his presence, through a process that stands to be frustrating, confusing, and much longer than anyone wants it to be. And may he bring them home -- whatever that is going to be -- sooner than any of them dare to expect.

Top photo: "attempt 363" by ollily, used under CreativeCommons Attribution-Noncommercial license.

Saturday, June 06, 2009

65 years ago




My GrandDad (center, above) was a 27-year-old Lieutenant in K Division (Radar) on the U.S.S. Arkansas, which provided fire support for the invasion of Normandy. His assignment was to operate the radar jammer to help protect the ship from German fire. "They splashed some water on us," he recalls. Some of the injured soldiers from the land invasion force were brought aboard the Arkansas for medical care.

Every now and again he'll make a remark about how he's being a drain on government resources, since he's still drawing his navy pension 30+ years after retirement. My response: no matter how much we the people pay you, we'll still owe you for Normandy (and Operation Anvil [Southern France], Iwo Jima, and Okinawa). 

Photos from the U.S.S. Arkansas 1944 Pictorial Review,
published by the U.S. Navy

Thursday, May 21, 2009

Working Lunch

There's a big white board at the front of the jury assembly room with the number of cases requesting trial for the day posted on it, and the number of cases remaining written underneath. If the bottom number reaches zero before 5 p.m., we get to go home early.

The top number is 97, which they told us is a relatively busy day. A very busy day can go as high as 130 cases requesting jury trial. There are 12 courtrooms in this complex, so that suggests something about the proportion of cases that get settled at the last minute. 

When we left for lunch an hour and a half ago, the bottom number was still at 97. When we got back, it was down to 35. Either the jury services folk are a little lax about updating the board, or a lot of settlements and/or continuences got hammered out while we were eating. Or maybe both.

So far today, they've called up panels for two cases.