Emerging Women

By Erin Crisp

We have made a new friend, Paul, from Kenya. He eats with us frequently and shares many stories of his country and home. He has already become such a blessing to our family- enlarging our hearts and opening our eyes to a world beyond our own trivial worries.

Last night he was sharing about school in Kenya. Students have to pay for uniforms, books and school fees to attend school. It is a great privilege to attend school. Children cry if they have to stay home from school for any reason and walk many miles sometimes to get an education.

I shared that overall, the perspective of US school children is disappointingly different. Most don’t want to go to school. Teenagers work hard to skip school and many drop out as soon as they are old enough in favor of going their own way.

He was not surprised, just shook his head and said wisely, as he often seems to do, “They do not understand that ‘I am because we are, and we are because I am. (from Desmund Tutu I think he said)’” He went on to explain that in Kenya, children know and understand that their entire existence is dependent on the “we” and the fate of the “we” is dependent on the responsibility (or lack thereof) of the individual. So if I am successful in school, I can help my whole family and whole community. If I squander my chances, I may indirectly or directly cause the death of my family members, friends and community because I become a burden to them, a mouth to feed that can not contribute as effectively as one who pursues his opportunities- whatever they may be- farming, education, etc.

So, short of exposing our children to the travesites of poverty and death, how do our children learn a sense of “we.” How do they come to the important realization that their actions, even as young adolescents, will have far reaching effects for their children, their husbands and wives and even their grandchildren? From teaching this age for a few years, I would assert that they have little to NO understanding of cause and effect that transcends their own lives. Psychologists say this is a normal phase of their development- that adolescents are trapped in a “me” world that is healthy and normal until they move onto the next phase of their development. But is that entirely true? It may help us understand them but should we let them languish there? What can we do to broaden their perspectives? And in so doing broaden our own as adults.

I am because we are, and we are because I am.

This post originally appeared at Erin’s blog Five Crisps: One Mama’s Musings on Her Three Boys and Life.

By Jessica Coblentz

I have a problem. I’m addicted to Sex— Sex and the City, that is.

A friend lent me a couple seasons on DVD recently. I had needed an episode for a program I facilitated at the women’s college where I work in campus ministry. The students and I gathered for popcorn, Oreos, and an episode of Sex and the City, followed by a thoughtful discussion about sex, dating and spirituality. Ideally, the show provides a point of reference for the discussion beyond one’s own sexual and dating experiences (or, sexless and dateless experiences).

The weekend following my program was chilly and wet. Cooped up in my apartment, I found myself utterly pathetic in any attempt to resist the sassy DVDs stacked on my desk. I would watch a couple episodes, eject the disk, and return to some writing, my “to do” list, or a phone call to a friend—only to cave in, again, to “just one more episode!”

What is it about this series that I love so much?! Why do I find it so utterly irresistible? Surely, I love the clothes, the shoes, and the posh New York restaurants. Ultimately, though, it’s the hip sitcom’s candid, witty talk about sex that keeps me glued to the screen. It’s so absolutely refreshing. Even when I disagree with the assertions they make about sex, I love the honest, bold, and fearless way they talk about the sexual decisions they make. They are confident in their sexualities. Not driven to silence or timidity by guilt or shame like so many of us.

In the discussion that followed the episode I watched with my students, I had asked them to characterize the conversations they’d had about sexuality in their religious communities. Most of them were Catholic like me, and all of them responded with, “NO. No, no, no, no, no, no! All we’ve heard is NO.” If they heard about sex in the church setting, it came across as “no,” and “Don’t do it, period. None of it.” There was no honest talk about the complexities of sexual decision-making. No hospitality that allowed them to feel they could ask genuine questions about the reality of sex in their relationships.

This got me thinking…what would a Catholic-type Sex and the City look like? Sex and the Vatican City, perhaps? Honestly, my first response was, “Well, it might look exactly the same as the regular Sex and the City!” Like most folks, we Catholics have pious speech about sex that we often fail to live up to. However, as I thought about it more it occurred to me that if there was a “Catholic” version of Sex and the City that embraced a conversation style akin to the show, yet ultimately continued to espouse the same “Catholic” positions on sexual ethics (anti-abortion, pro-NFP and anti-artificial birth control, no extra-heterosexual-marital sex, etc.), I might still love it. And my students might have a very different experience of Catholic sexual teaching.

I can see it now: The four ladies chatting over brunch. Charlotte is cheering about how happy she is that her natural family planning is not working and she’s pregnant again with her fifth child. Samantha is complaining about her latest boyfriend who just can’t understand why she won’t marry him: he’s been divorced and she is standing by the Church’s position that he cannot remarry. Miranda is still struggling to balance her work as a mother and as a lawyer—only now its in the context of Pope John Paul II’s teachings on “the genius of women” and women’s unquestioned responsibility to family life. Carrie writes a witty sex column for the National Catholic Reporter.

I can envision it now! And I would still like this “Catholic” version in many ways—even if I continued to wrestle with some of the ethical positions it endorsed. Perhaps this type of show will never happen for the Catholic Church, but I still hope that some version of this honest, hospitable conversation about sexuality will.

Jessica Coblentz, a graduate of Santa Clara University, works in Catholic young adult ministry. She will begin graduate studies at Harvard Divinity School this fall. This post originally appeared on her personal blog, www.jessicacoblentz.blogspot.com.

A member of our Emerging Women community, Kristine Lowder, has a new book out, an historical novel set in 1st century Palestine called Akeldama.

She writes -

“Step into the pages of Akeldama, my historical novel of Faith.  Meet beautiful Yo-hannah, whose tortured past has imprisoned her body and heart.  Walk in the stooped steps of Veronica, whose mysterious malady has made her ceremonially unclean.  Thirst for living water with a half-breed whose checkered past is about to catch up with her.

Thrown together from different dead-ends, each woman seeks answers to her own desperation.  Will Yo-hannah find the peace she craves?  Can an unclean woman receive a touch of mercy?  Where can a despised half-breed go to be made whole?  And what about old Hadessa, whose enigmatic past is as mysterious as the young rabbi from Nazareth who crosses each woman’s path?

Each woman’s life and future hinges on the Nazarene’s answer to  one question: who are you?”

“I have read only a few Christian novels worthy of the name.  My favorite Christian authors are C.S. Lewis, Stephen R. Lawhead, Joseph F. Girzone, and now Kristine Lowder.  I must tell you that her book, Akelada, touched me so deeply that I cried like a baby as I read the final chapter.  Yes, the final chapter is about the resurrection of Jesus Christ – not a new subject.  But something in her telling of it blessed me with joy, gratitude, awe, and wonder.  I cannot remember a time when I wanted to re-read a book as soon as I finished it.  Treat yourself to a great book!
- William C. Oakes, Senior Pastor, Living Stones Fellowship, Warrens, Wisconsin

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By Cindy Wallace

A few weeks ago I gathered on the beach with other women to take a moment at the summer solstice and praise God for the spring and the summer, for creation, for the rhythm of our lives as women, to praise God for the beauty and beg mercy for the pain.

The image I couldn’t get out of my head was of a young migrant worker holding a baby, trying to get the child to nurse. But the baby won’t eat. The baby is sick after spending months in the womb while its mother worked in fields sprayed with devastating pesticides and lived in shacks at the edges of these fields. (Cherrie Moraga’s play Heroes and Saints is a powerful statement about this reality, as does Ana Castillo’s novel So Far From God.) I couldn’t stop thinking of this young woman, and many more like her, and the spotless produce I buy for the price of their infants’ wellbeing and even lives. I thought of the aching loveliness of life, and the aching agony of it, and babies’ cancer-wracked bodies that someone in an office somewhere refers to by phrases like “spatial racism” or the “geography of racism.”

I thought about the sticky jeweled purple of the plum pie I had baked the day before, its tart-sweet nutmegginess and flaky crust. I had stood making pie dough in my 90-degree kitchen, grating frozen butter to mix in with the flour. I relished the melt of the yellow butter, the feel of the words “sweet cream” in my mouth. I used the back of my hand to brush hair off my forehead in a move I’m sure millions of women have done throughout time, leaving that iconic slight trace of flour on my face. I thought of the plum pie cooling on the table, and then cut and tumbled into white porcelain bowls, and its tang next to the smoky smooth of a dark cup of coffee. I thought of how simply thankful I was for this pie, the process of making it, the slow joy of eating it bite by bite.

And at the same time I thought of the laborers who pick the plums, and their babies, and their wages, and their sunburned skins. I thought of floods and droughts, famines, food surpluses left to rot because of that idol-god “the market.” I tried to pray aloud, and I choked on my own words, and I felt the anger of helplessness, an anger I have been feeling a lot recently as I read books recounting histories of injustice and raise my eyes to look at the world around me.

When will we have the beauty without the pain? Especially, when will we have the beauty without someone else’s pain?

And I thought of the cross.

The beauty will always be based on Someone Else’s pain.

But not the pain of the migrant worker, or the sweatshop laborer, or the sex slave: because one day, the Messiah will make it right. Jesus Christ will redeem what he has promised to redeem. He will make us whole, and the whole earth that groans because of what we have done to it, and the whole population weeping because of what we have done to them — we all together will be made whole.

What are we doing now in the name of that promise? How are we, as the continuing presence of God on this earth, Christ’s body, pursuing wholeness for our sisters and our brothers? Tonight, I stood in the wholeness of a circle of women praising God for the beauty and begging mercy for the pain.

I don’t understand this economy of justice and grace. But here are a few words from Psalm 10: may they convict us even as they give us hope.

Psalm 10.1-2, 10-18 (NIV)

Why, O LORD, do you stand far off?
Why do you hide yourself in times of trouble?
In his arrogance the wicked man hunts down the weak,
who are caught in the schemes he devises.
His victims are crushed, they collapse;
they fall under his strength.
He says to himself, “God has forgotten;
he covers his face and never sees.”
Arise, LORD! Lift up your hand, O God.
Do not forget the helpless.
Why does the wicked man revile God?
Why does he say to himself,
“He won’t call me to account”?
But you, O God, do see trouble and grief;
you consider it to take it in hand.
The victim commits himself to you;
you are the helper of the fatherless.
Break the arm of the wicked and evil man;
call him to account for his wickedness
that would not be found out.
The LORD is King for ever and ever;
the nations will perish from his land.
You hear, O LORD, the desire of the afflicted;
you encourage them, and you listen to their cry,
defending the fatherless and the oppressed,
in order that man, who is of the earth, may terrify no more.

Cindy Wallace is a graduate student, a recovering fundamentalist, and a church-planting plotter with her red-goateed seminarian husband. She blogs at http://lafleurepuisee.blogspot.com/.

Recently over at The Common Loon the question was asked whether there is a Calvinist-Complementarian connection. With the rise of the “New Calvinists” often referred to as the “young, restless, and reformed,” the gender roles issue has taken on a new life. The blog author writes -

As an outside observer of the movement, I’ve noticed that in addition to Reformed soteriology (often summarized by the acronym TULIP), one of the key doctrinal distinctives for New Calvinists is complementarianism, the view that male leadership in the church and home is a Biblical imperative. It’s no coincidence that influential Reformed/Calvinist (I’m using these terms interchangeably here) leaders like John Piper, Al Mohler and Mark Driscoll are among evangelicalism’s most vocal opponents of women’s ordination. As a staunch egalitarian, I believe Scripture teaches that God gives the gifts of preaching, teaching and church leadership to both men and women, which puts me squarely at odds with the young, restless, Reformed camp…

Despite our disagreements on gender roles, I share a lot in common with my New Calvinist brothers and sisters. I am very much drawn to the Reformed tradition, its covenant theology, historic confessions and doctrines of grace (TULIP included)…

If I were capable of passing through the narrow doctrinal checkpoint affirming both TULIP and complementarian gender roles, I would find a community of New Calvinists refreshingly open to a range of positions on baptism, miraculous gifts, the Lord’s Supper and eschatology….

In light of such ecumenism, it’s perplexing to consider why egalitarians are not also welcomed to the New Calvinist table. Complementarianism may not be at the forefront of New Calvinist identity, but it nonetheless serves as a distinct theological boundary not to be crossed. From what I gather, egalitarianism is categorically rejected by the full spectrum of interdenominational networks, ministries and conferences home to New Calvinists (including Tim Keller and Don Carson’s Gospel Coalition, Piper’s Desiring God Ministries, Driscoll’s Acts 29 Network, Mahaney’s Sovereign Grace Ministries, Dever’s 9 Marks, R.C. Sproul’s Ligonier Ministries, Duncan’s Alliance of Confessing Evangelicals and MacArthur’s Shepherd’s Conference among others). I hope I’m mistaken, but the young, restless, Reformed subculture seems to have built an impenetrable wall to keep out those who are not both Calvinists and complementarians. One out of two is not enough, and thus I have failed to qualify.

His post is insightful in wondering why this is such an issue and wonders if there are egalitarian Calvinists. One of the leaders of the New Calvinists, Kevin DeYoung (co-author of Why We’re Not Emergent) responded to the post on his own blog. In it he graciously admitted that some egalitarians come to that position from the Bible, but that he thinks it is best if Calvinists don’t associate with them. His reasons include -

1. Those that accept egalitarianism, over time accept sexual immorality.
2. If we are confused about manhood and womanhood then we can’t minister to our culture.
3. Egalitarians don’t always affirm core doctrines like inerrancy, penal substitution, and eternal punishment while complementarians do.
4. If we want to work with other people/denominations Calvinists need to be clear on who is allowed to be in leadership or speak at those events. Its just easier to assert that women aren’t allowed.

I know here at Emerging Women we have complementarians as well as egalitarians, and I am sure at least a few Calvinists. So how do you respond to these assertions? Can a Calvinist be an egalitarian, or at least associate with them? Is it better to take a stand and not work with those who are different from you? Should we as Christians seek unity first, and denominational doctrine second (or the other way around)?

I admit that as an egalitarian, it is easier sometimes to simply not have to deal with the complementarians. I don’t want to be a part of a church that denies the call of God in my life or that tells me that I am lesser than men. It’s a position I struggled to come to through long biblical study, and I can’t place myself back into a world that actively oppresses me. That said, I have issues with saying that I would never work with a complementarian (no matter how much I disagree with his theology). I am for building the body of Christ and loving others even if I disagree with them or see them committing injustices. It’s hard, but I feel like that is the response I have to have.

So what are your thoughts? How as Christians should we interact?