Emerging Women

by A.J. Jacobs

“My quest is this: to live the ultimate biblical life. Or more precisely, to follow the bible as literally as possible.” So begins A.J.’s year-long sojourn, which he has made into a funny, informative and thought-provoking book. You can learn how You too can live biblically, see before and after pics of A.J’s hair (see if you agree he resembles the unibomber,) and view a link on How to be good at at A.J’s website.

At the project’s start, A.J. decides to get himself some good biblical studies resources. Upon walking into a Bible bookstore, a sales clerk offers A.J. some advice, as he points to a suggested bible, which is, “designed to look exactly like a Seventeen magazine: An attractive (if long-sleeved) model graces the front, next to cover lines like, ‘What’s your spiritual IQ?” Open it up and you’ll find sidebars such as ‘Rebeca the Control Freak.’”

“This one’s good if you’re on the subway and are too embarrassed to be seen reading the Bible,’ says Chris, [the sales clerk] It’s an odd and poignant selling point. You know your in a secular city when it’s considered more acceptable for a grown man to read a teen girl’s magazine than the Bible.” (p 9)

This interchange caused me to think about this quandry/opportunity:

1. What does it mean to be unapologetic and open about our humble walk with God when so often we feel ashamed and very apologetic about certain aspects of our religious “families of origin.” and the dogmas that often supplant life in the Spirit? What can we claim from our origins that abides in light, love and truth in place within our spirits where deep calls unot deep? And what could it look like when we let that Light shine?

On page 39 A.J. writes:

…one of my motivations for this experiment is my recent entrance into fatherhood. I’m constantly worried about my son’s ethical education. I don’t want him to swim in a soup of moral relativism. I don’t trust. I have such a worldview, and though I have yet to commit a major felony, it seems dangerous.

I thought it was funny to observe that A.J. actually agrees with fundamentalists about relativism, even though this is the view he espouses. I wondered,

2. Is there an alternative to relativism and absolutism?

3. Have you wrestled with “what to tell the children,” either in your family or spiritual community? I am curious particularly in areas of sex, salvation and evangelism how your own journey/ambiguity or ambivalence impacts what you say, avoid saying or otherwise communicate to a younger generation.

4. What approach do you take to instilling, offering, modeling and otherwise helping nurture young disciples, whether they are your own children or spiritual children you feel are entrusted into your care in friendship and/or ministry?

We have a great collection of posts for our round-up this week. Take the time to read what these women are writing about and join in on the conversations!

Amy has some insightful thoughts on learning styles.

Sonja reflects on clay jars.

Lyn writes about her identity crisis is accepting the emerging/emergent label.

Heather reflects on the moral lessons of “Horton Hears a Who.”

To point out Emerging Women in the news – Kelly Bean is highlighted in The Oregonian.

and I highly recommend Jenny Baker’s article Rediscovering Heart on gender differences and the church. (ht – Jonny Baker).

So, we recently discussed the idea of posting interviews with women who are involved in one way or another with the emerging or Emergent church. I thought I’d jump-start this idea with an interview I recently had with my friend Sarah Taylor. To the best of my knowledge, Sarah does not consider herself to be Emergent. She is, however, long-time participant at the The Ooze’s message boards where I have often seen her endorse ideas related to the emerging church. Sarah is a student at Brigham Young University. Recently, I spoke with her about her experiences at BYU as someone who is not a Latter-day Saint.

Lydia Schoch: What made you decide to attend BYU?

Sarah Taylor: The idea of attending an LDS university struck me as novel, but theclincher was really the price; BYU provides a great education for a fraction of what similar schools cost.

Do the people you’ve met at BYU prefer to be referred to as “Mormons,” “Latter-day Saints” or something else entirely?

Most prefer to be called Latter-day Saints (at least by outsiders). Many Latter-day Saints call themselves “Mormons,” but the more respectful term is definitely “Latter-day Saints.”

Gordon B. Hinckley, the President of the Latter-Day Saints, died recently. What was your first reaction when you heard of his death? How did your classmates react?

I think the moment I heard about the death of President Hinckley (is it weird that I call him that?) is one of those moments that will end up being etched in my mind forever, which is strange to me, considering that I’d never heard of him a mere three years ago. Many Latter-day Saints my age don’t remember a time when he wasn’t leading the LDS Church, so it was a big deal for everyone around me. My first reaction was probably mild shock – mild, because he was 97 years old, for goodness’ sake, and shock, because he’s a major figure in the lives of everyone around me and because it always surprises me when people of whom I know die. Probably my next thought was to wonder what the atmosphere would be at school the next day. And I wondered what the protocol was for the death of a prophet, how the succession would take place, etc.

I’m taking a Book of Mormon class this semester, and my professor threw out his lesson the day following President Hinckley’s death and let the class discuss it. Most students said they felt happy for President Hinckley that he was reunited with his wife, some cried and said he’d influenced their lives in major ways, many bore their testimonies that he was a prophet and talked about when they’d first sensed the Spirit confirm that for them, and some asked questions about what would happen now with the leadership of the LDS Church. The general mood was sombre on campus that day and the next, and many student missed classes that week to attend his funeral. I was probably most surprised by the students who had been greatly personally influenced by President Hinckley. I don’t know why that surprised me, but it did.

Tell me about a typical day for you when school is in session. How often does the topic of God or religion come up?

Religion classes usually begin with a prayer and a hymn, and about half of my other classes begin with prayers. A class period rarely goes by without some sort of reference to the LDS Church. At BYU, a shared worldview (based, obviously, on LDS beliefs) is assumed, and nothing is unaffected.

I took an American history class my first semester at BYU, and I remember seriously questioning whether I’d be able to make it through college there. My professor was quoting people I’d never heard of (LDS apostles) discussing people groups I’d never heard of traveling among places I’d never heard of. It took me a week to figure out that she was talking about Jews who had (according to the Book of Mormon) populated the Americas. I felt as if I had stepped into another country upon entering that classroom. I was taking the class with people who spoke the native language and belonged to the native culture, and I was entirely out of my league. I think what saved me was that it was all so interesting; here were these kids who were close to my age, most of whom had attended public schools, many outside of Utah…they looked like me, grew up watching the same TV shows I had, and were American to the bone. But there was nothing mainstream about what I was hearing, and that was intriguing enough to carry me through a semester of being the class ignoramus.

In everyday conversation with other students, matters of religion and church are omni-present. Life at BYU revolves around the LDS Church, and naturally discussions reflect that. The social lives of many of my LDS friends consist almost solely of church-sanctioned activities. I doubt more than a couple of days went by this year during which I didn’t utter the words, “I’m not LDS” to some unsuspecting fellow student who had launched into a soliloquy about the [LDS] gospel or archaeological discoveries which support the claims of the Book of Mormon (a surprisingly common discussion topic). My disclosure usually sparked interest, and a series of questions would follow (Why BYU? What religion are you? Are you considering converting? What’s the main difference between Mormonism and what you believe?).

How have they reacted to the fact that you haven’t converted?

Hmm. Well, I have had people lose interest in friendships with me, but it may be awfully conceited to assume that that’s due to my failure to convert to Mormonism and not some character flaw of mine. Most people are gracious and kind, but there are definitely times when I sense discomfort. And it’s understandable. I’ve read the Book of Mormon, taken 6 religion classes, met with missionaries, and lived among generally missionary-minded Latter-day Saints for the past three years, and yet, a traditional Christian I remain. I think at times it feels to some people as though I’m rejecting the thing that’s most important to them, and so I’m rejecting them, in a way. Then again, maybe that’s not true at all. Who knows; this is the type of stuff people don’t talk about.

What has surprised you the most about the Latter-day Saints you’ve gotten to know so far?

How bold and confident they are in sharing their faith. When people think “Mormon,” we quickly think “missionaries,” but I really wasn’t expecting everyone to be so missionary-minded and comfortable ‘bearing their testimonies’ to virtual strangers. That still consistently surprises me, and I’ve lived here for two years now. The LDS Church is adept at preparing its people to publicly discuss issues of eternal significance at a young age.

What do you think is the biggest misconception other Christians have about them?

I think probably our biggest mistake has been to confuse contemporary Mormonism with the Mormonism of the early 20th century. They’re vastly different. I heard a BYU professor say this year that trying to nail down Mormon theology is like trying to nail jell-o to the wall; it’s just not a simple thing to do. This is not what our theologically systematic ears want to hear, and Christians seem to have the tendency, when interacting with LDS, to define their beliefs for them and accuse (or suspect) them of lying when they deny believing in the picture of Mormonism we paint for them.

What is their biggest misconception about us?

I don’t think Latter-day Saints realize how united the Christian church is as a whole; as Christians, the phrase “the Church” conjures up for (most of) us an assemblage of people linked spiritually, by virtue of our belonging to Christ. The Church supersedes denominational lines, cultures, vastly differing peripheral beliefs, methods of worship and evangelism, etc. It’s easy for an outsider looking at the Christian world to see confusion and dissension rather than diversity, and that’s precisely what the LDS see (and I should probably note that we too often give them reason for thinking so). The average Latter-Day Saint, though very unfamiliar with where the differences lie between a Baptist and a Lutheran, is quite aware that there are differences there.

LDS churches across the world will usually teach the same lessons within a week of each other; a Latter-Day Saint in Miami will most likely hear a lesson on the same topic on the same day as a Latter-Day Saint in Tokyo. This uniformity is so important to them that they refuse to establish churches in areas where interest is high until there is someone available to go and organize it properly (which can take years, which is what happened in Nigeria). Given the high degree of organization and uniformity of the LDS Church, it’s not hard to understand why they look at Christianity and think, “fragmented and lost” and look at the LDS Church and think, “one true church.”

How about your plans for the future? Do you think they will include further interactions with people who are LDS?

At this point, I can’t imagine my future not involving Latter-Day Saints in some way, but I have no idea what that looks like. My concrete plan right now is to finish up at BYU and then attend law school.

As we wrap up this month’s discussion of Virginia Woolf’s A Room of One’s Own, I want to turn to the question of expectations and costs. Woolf constantly seeks to understand what exactly it is society (popular opinion) expects from women. It is easier to understand why women are the way they are if one understands the constraints on who they are allowed to be. She quotes a common opinion on what was suitable for women writers – “female novelists should only aspire to excellence by courageously acknowledging the limitations of their sex.” While she was shocked that such a statement came from 1928 and not 1828, it is one we still hear today.

In the church especially we are used to there being certain expectations and limitations for women. Even when the church or group is egalitarian, those assumptions regarding what is suitable still exist. Often if a woman writes a book it is assumed to be a book for women, even if the spiritual themes are broader than that. I’ve come to expect that if there is women present in a line up of conference speakers I can almost guarantee that she will be speaking on social work in urban settings, AIDS in Africa, or overcoming sexual abuse, eating disorders, or being a lesbian and not anything strictly theological or from the Bible. Not that most of those things are bad topics, just that they are “acceptable” topics for women to address.

Yet to move beyond those expectations comes at a cost. Woolf presents an interesting perspective –

Moreover, in a hundred years, I thought, reaching my own doorstep, women will have ceased to be the protected sex. Logically they will take part in all the activities and exertions that were once denied them. The nursemaid will heave coal. The shopwoman will drive an engine. All assumptions founded on the facts observed when women were the protected sex will have disappeared—as, for example (here a squad of soldiers marched down the street), that women and clergymen and gardeners live longer than other people. Remove that protection, expose them to the same exertions and activities, make them soldiers and sailors and engine–drivers and dock labourers, and will not women die off so much younger, so much quicker, than men that one will say, ‘I saw a woman to–day’, as one used to say, ‘I saw an aeroplane’. Anything may happen when womanhood has ceased to be a protected occupation, I thought, opening the door.

Much has been said of the costs of women finding equality. Lifestyles and family structures have changed and often women are made to bear the full guilt of the vicissitudes of those changes. Women and men have had to make sacrifices and surrender their pride. Women have been maligned and ridiculed. We have been accused of seeking power when all we want is to be ourselves. We still in the church are subject to harsh criticisms, asked to be quiet (in the name of unity of course), and told our passions are unimportant. Pushing expectations comes at a cost.

So I ask. What expectations do you see in play? How can they be challenged? What costs have you had to pay? Are the costs worth it?

I recently returned from London, where I helped lead a college class exploring alternative forms of [Christian] worship. The class was taught by Kevin Corcoran, professor of philosophy at Calvin College, a close friend of ours. Components of the class were filmed by my husband Kurt Wilson, and colleague Matt Burnell. As a team, we helped 23 students engage a whole new approach to faith and explore what worship might look like in a postmodern context.

Personally, I found the time profoundly restorative and hopeful. The Brits with whom we connected were overwhelmingly hospitable, and gave us a great deal to think about. I came home wrestling with some new ideas, and grateful for the following challenges:

• What might church look like in my own context? I’ve tried, too often, to find “just the right answer” to the question “What is church?” Each of the folks with whom we met answered that question differently, and each service we visited reflected diverse perspectives. This leads me to believe that God gives us the freedom to work out that answer uniquely for our specific context. What freedom!

• Who needs perfection? It seems we Americans feel tremendous pressure for a strategic, fully developed plan before we begin to implement. Relatively speaking, the folks we met with in London were remarkably laid back. When they felt the urge to start something new, they just did. It was clear that mountains of effort and time & energy went into their services, but very few groups had started out with a long-term plan. The excellence and beauty they achieved were, at least initially, on a “case-by-case” basis. And when things went amiss, they chalked it up to experience and kept going. Again, what freedom!

If you’re interested in a visual story of the time, we’ve posted several short films. You can view clips of services we attended, as well as interviews with a number of leaders who graciously indulged our curiosity.

It was thrilling to meet with folks who enjoy the freedom of living into new ways of faith, and I was challenged to find ways to do the same, even back here in the heartland.

I’m assuming the template is messed up for everyone trying to view the blog. I’m trying to figure out what’s wrong. Sorry about the inconvenience.

Edited – it should be working now. The host server was down for awhile.

As we continue our discussion of Virginia Woolf’s A Room of One’s Own, I want to turn to the issue of families. I first want to fully acknowledge that this isn’t an issue for every women nor should it have to be. I completely respect the multitude of ways women choose to live and work in this world and the reasons why many desire to not have kids. I don’t want anyone to feel excluded from this conversation either, but the issue of the ability of women to have children and do something like write surfaces in Woolf’s writing and is a huge issue for some women.

In her questioning the lack of resources of a women’s college, Woolf (writing in the 1920s) wonders how things would be different if our foremothers had been out making money and receiving an education instead of bearing and raising child after child. What different memories and opportunities would women now have? But then she surmises that such questions are meaningless because we then wouldn’t exist at all. The assumption is that one can’t be a mother and write (or teach, or make money, or be intellectual). These days (amidst much controversy still) women have far more opportunities to work and some men are (rightly imho) stepping up to their fair share of parenting responsibility, but nevertheless women still bear the majority of the childrearing load. As Woolf would say, it’s hard to have the time, privacy, and money to write with children underfoot. And it is a choice that women still struggle with. Family or career? Or both? Woolf saw the choice basically as an either/or, but others obviously have challenged that dichotomy.

My favorite challenge came from the writer Margaret Atwood in her poem Spelling (I blogged through it regarding these issues here, here, and here). In the poem she addresses the very issue of women choosing between children and writing. She choose to do both and saw both as a way for women to have a voice and participate in the act of creation. While she acknowledged the intense struggles of choosing both, she also thought that to deny women either creative outlet was an act of violence. As a working and writing mother I tend to agree – even though I face struggles every day. This is what is working for my life, but I know each of us faces something different.

So where do you fall on these issues? How have you made both work? Or why did you choose one path over another? I’d love to hear your stories.