Emerging Women

By Mihee Kim-Kort

There’s a huge tree in front of our house. It’s the tree that I fell in love with when we first saw the house, and eventually bought it and moved in. We’re situated on top of a slight hill so that our front lawn is basically a small, steep slope, and we have to climb two different sets of stairs to get to the front door. The master bedroom is right above the front door and porch, with three windows that face out to the tree. It’s one of those trees that seems to be the last on the street to grow in green, and perhaps the first to shed its leaves during the beginning of autumn. When it is full, its leaves are a bright Irish green that fall down in truckloads planting themselves all over the front yard and sprouting into little trees that I unfortunately have to pull up like weeds. It kind of breaks my heart in a way, like I’m preventing the tree’s offspring from growing up and reaching their fullest potential.

It’s a comforting presence with branches that hang low and cover the porch a little while still letting in bits of light and warmth. I love laying in bed sometimes and just letting myself drown in the green that fills the windows. On those days I don’t want to crawl out of bed, it feels like a soothing balm for my tattered spirit…

New life is springing up all around us now, and living in PA, it is particularly undeniable and beautiful. There’s something about this area where everything kind of explodes to new life – flowers, plants, trees. And…it’s even more poignant as A- and I struggle to create our own little life. I’ve only talked about this struggle with a few folks already, and though I find it difficult to share, I am realizing that I need to start accepting this as a part of my own journey, my own process, my own…story. After a couple of years of trying to get pregnant we recently found out that the only way for us to have our own offspring is through in vitro fertilization. I am grieving…the loss of all and any romantic notions of this whole getting-pregnant process in general…and not being able to be a part of nature’s cycle in a “natural” way…But even while that specific dream is still-born, I am feeling thankful for the inkling of other possibilities…and how I can bear hope in other ways even if it isn’t the “natural” way. Even as I watch little seedlings sprout all around me, whether it’s flowers or children, though painful, it’s healing, too. And in that healing, there’s always new life…

The tree has become a mothering presence to me…a reminder of all the mothering spirits in my life…and a picture of what I might be, too…

Mihee is an associate pastor at a Presbyterian church for youth and children in Pennsylvania. This post originally appeared at Mihee’s blog First Day Walking

By Beth Booram

“It’s time for our reality to catch up to our poetry.” Andy Jacobs

Just days after Obama was elected, I was watching the news when former Indiana Congressman, Andy Jacobs, was interviewed. I don’t recall why he was, but I do remember observing his strong emotions as he described waiting for the election returns and wondering if his personal dream of seeing an African American as President would be realized.

At one point, Jacobs named the source of his inspiration when he referred to the Declaration of Independence. He recited the words, “We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal.” Then he said with unabashed conviction, “It’s time for our reality to catch up with our poetry!”

That statement separated itself from all the other comments Jacobs made. It hung suspended by itself, containing a weight and significance I couldn’t ignore. I immediately transposed this thought to experiences in my life when the gap between reality and poetry was too far adrift. One experience pressed forward, its nerve struck by the truth of Jacob’s remark.

Most of my life, I have been involved in vocational Christian ministry in environments where women are excluded from certain roles and types of ministry within the church. As a woman, I have heard the poetry of women being valued and regarded for their contributions—being considered equals to men. But reality often displayed a different truth.

For example, I remember one Sunday morning, sitting in a service where a group was being commissioned for a short-term mission’s trip. The senior pastor introduced the team and then asked all the elders to come forward to lay hands on them and pray for them. I watched as the scene unfolded: a handful of men, and only men, mounted the platform with stately importance.

While the pastor prayed, I kept my eyes open and took in the drama as all male elders gathered around the team, their eyes closed, their faces composed of somber seriousness. They placed their hands on the shoulders of the harbingers—suggesting a transmission of kingly power and authority. I asked God, “Why?” “Why are only men invited to participate in this pastoral act?” The event spoke volumes to me. The subliminal message was clear. Men have a spiritual authority that women don’t have.

The poetry was getting old and beginning to sound sentimental. My heart ached for more than lyrical rhymes. The lines of verse were beautiful and noble, right and hopeful. And those who recited them assumed that I would be satisfied with listening to the poem. But what they failed to realize is that poetry awakens the heart. Mine wanted more than pretty language. I wanted the lines to become piercing, prophetic, and convicting. I wanted reality to catch up with the poetry.

Certainly, all of our lives, including mine, are riddled with gaps: places where what we say and what we do have an embarrassingly large space between them. I admit that I can be satisfied with hearing or speaking poetry but not allowing it to get under my skin and raise my ire toward action. I like the way it sounds but am too lazy and indifferent to work its truth into life.

So, right now, I am letting this statement sit on me so that I feel it’s weight. I am praying to see and address the gaps between poetry and reality in my world.

Beth Booram has a passion to explain and model a way of living responsively to God in the midst of life’s varied landscapes. As a writer and speaker, she is highly creative, often utilizing artistic elements , contemplative exercises, and engaging interaction. Beth has authored a number of excellent works. Her most recent are The Wide Open Spaces of God (Abingdon Press/ September, 2007) and Picturing the Face of Jesus (Abingdon Press/April, 2009).

I just want to give a heads up that there will be some major changes occurring here at Emerging Women soon. Members will be finding out more about this very soon, and the changes should be public shortly thereafter. I hope this will strengthen this community and help push the conversation here forward.

by Elizabeth Glass-Turner

Note to the reader: this tribute originally appeared on The Big Red Couch. As a thinker, a woman, and a theologian, I have deep, rich respect for this man, in an era when “a good man is hard to find.”

Last week, I gave a gasp and a shudder, then immediately burst into tears. Someone that I had met once died. That was all.

But that wasn’t all. I had heard of his serious illness; heard the call to prayer, on his behalf. I had once heard him speak.

More importantly, he had heard me.

The man spoke with President Bush, and President Reagan. With Pope John Paul II. The President of Poland has issued a statement of grief upon the man’s demise. But one day, this man spoke with me.

I was vaguely aware of his political import; I was more aware of his status as a theological giant who lived in Manhattan. There hung about him both wit, and a scent of pipe or cigar tobacco, when I met him. He was animated with energy, gracious in his attention, and radiated the spiritual comfort of a man who, it felt, has spent more hours praying than I had been alive. It seemed appropriate, and familiar, to call him father – a picture of a papa to millions of people, peasants and popes alike.

Father Richard John Neuhaus – for the last week, hearing and reading the name make tears sting my eyes. Not because of his time on “Meet the Press,” but because of a few winter hours several years ago.

The cold evening I met “Father John,” as George W. often called him, he was wrapped in a thick overcoat and eager to arrive at a meeting at which he was keynote speaker. I found myself handed with a rare privilege, and one which I have only appreciated more as time has passed. I knew I was meeting an important man, and a great man, though I hardly knew how important, and how great. I had not seen the photos of him with world leaders at that time. I knew him as a name on “First Things,” a remarkably profound publication. But he was simple, unaffected, welcoming. He and I sat and spoke of liturgy. He listened to my opinions – which I have never been shy in sharing. (There remains in me the rather Scottish certainty that my opinions and thought, carefully measured, are just as good as anybody else’s – no matter who they have on speed dial, or what country they run. It is, I think, a Highlander characteristic.)

I remember little of the address he gave that night. It was profound, I recall, and stimulating. We had, I know, a spirited exchange in the car on the way to drop him at his hotel. And though I still don’t know if he or I stepped forward first, he gave me a quick, impromptu hug in departure. It felt rather like he had laid his hands on my head in blessing, though it was nothing so grand.

Upon his death I found myself shaken. More than that, I felt myself wanting to chime in – to add my experiences to the community pool of memories that has been collecting in the wake of his passing. I wanted to include that I, too, had personal experience of the man who has helped shape presidential policy on issues as grave as abortion. But it wasn’t out of a desire for climbing any ladders, or garnering any accolades. The mark of a holy man is that he brings out what good there is in the people around him. And I think that our communal hopes of having our voices heard by others as we each share personal reminiscences are due to a desire to be like him.

“I want to be that well read,” some think. “I want to hone just a portion of that rigorous intellect,” others determine. “I want to make people feel that welcome in my presence,” “I want to be more disciplined in my writing, like he was…” “I want to wrap all aspects of my life around my faith, like he did…” “I want to know when to take things seriously, and when to laugh them off, like he did…”

We want to be like you, Father Neuhaus. In whatever small way we resemble you, we want to be like you, because you wanted to be like the Father.

We are left, now, without your example, and we fear we cannot model it as well as you did. But, as you would remind us, we are left with the Divine example, we all inherit the same Spirit of the Lord, who empowers us to be more like Jesus.

But we will miss you.

by Euodia

I haven’t set foot inside a commercial movie theater since 1993. No, I’m not kidding. Ticket prices, higher priorities, other interests and an utter lack of interest in most of the junk Hollywood cranks out these days disguised as “movies” have kept me away from theaters for years. So you know something unusual – maybe even remarkable – drew me into the theater today to see the comedy/drama Marley and Me.

Truth is, I wasn’t planning on seeing Marley and Me – or anything else. But my husband and older sons were on an all-day youth group outing, leaving me home with our youngest. Josiah wasn’t exactly jumping for joy about being left behind. So I called the local cinema center on a lark, got the usual unintelligible recording, but deciphered just enough of it to catch something about a family and a yellow Labrador retriever. I’ve been a sucker for yellow Labs ever since Old Yeller. In fact, our good dog is a yellow Lab. Marley and Me was a no-brainer.

I bought two matinee tickets for Josiah and me and walked into a theater that was two-thirds full, oppressively stuffy, and had the soles of my shoes sticking to the floor. I almost turned around and walked out. Only reason I didn’t was because I didn’t want to disappoint Josiah. I’m glad I stayed. Marley and Me was a pleasant surprise.

This charming, rambunctious, family-oriented movie is about a “clearance puppy,” aka; “the world’s worst dog,” and the havoc and happiness he wreaks within the Grogan household. Based on the best selling book from ex-Philadelphia Inquirer columnist Josh Grogan, Marley and Me has Owen Wilson playing Grogan with deadpan good humor and Jennifer Aniston as his wife, Jen.

The movie opens just after the Grogan’s wedding in southern Michigan which is accompanied by a blizzard. The couple moves to “some place warmer” – Florida – where both husband and wife land jobs as reporters. Josh reports mostly mundane stories for the Sun-Sentinel until his hard-boiled editor (Alan Arkin) asks him to take on a twice-a-week column. Self-described as “full of surprises,” Josh reluctantly accepts and soon finds his niche writing columns about “regular, every day stuff:” his wife, their growing family, and the uproarious antics of the rascally, rambunctious Marley (named for the singer Bob).

One thing I especially appreciated about this movie is that it portrays the stresses and strains, exhaustions and joys of family life realistically, without stereotypes of clichés. Jen eventually gives up her career to stay home full-time with the Grogan’s sons, who are later joined by “whups,” their third child, a daughter. The family gets a minivan, moves into a larger home in Boca and eventually settles in Pennsylvania where Grogan writes for the Philadelphia Inquirer. Dissatisfied with hard news reporting, Grogan eventually finds his way back to what he loves most and does best – writing a column about “regular, every day stuff.”

Meanwhile, Grogan’s “regular, every day” family life – complete with dirty diapers, messy houses, thunder storms, unfinished homework, soccer games and snowball fights – is subtly contrasted to the ostensibly more glitzy, glamorous life of Sebastian Tunney, a hot bachelor reporter. A choice scene occurs toward the end of the movie in which Grogan runs in to Tunney – on assignment for yet another plum story – and passing through Philadelphia. Tunney inquires about the family and Grogan proudly pulls out a snapshot of Jen and the kids and of course, the four-legged rascal, Marley. They exchange a few pleasantries before Grogan mentions that he has to get going because his son has a soccer game. The two friends shake hands and promise to “get together some time.” Tunney flashes his trademark toothy grin and roams down the sidewalk, hitting on yet another young woman while Grogan, clearly the richer and more fulfilled of the two, heads back to his wife and kids and that crazy, loveable yellow Lab that has a few surprises himself.

I forgot all about the over-warm theater, the stale air and sticky cement floor about halfway through this movie. It was delightful. I walked out of the theater hugging my son and hurrying home to hug my good dog and the rest of my family.

To be sure, Marley and Me isn’t Gone With the Wind, but it doesn’t pretend to be. It’s a gem of a little “sleeper” and has a gentle, unpretentious quality to it that all dog lovers – and everyone else – can enjoy. Go see it. And be sure to bring Kleenex.

Caution: Marley and Me is rated PG. A few brief scenes and lines may be inappropriate for very young viewers.

by Sonja Andrews

“Best Of” posts are beginning to pop up all over like dandelions in springtime. They’re sparkly and eye-catching. I always like them because they catch the year in review and give the reader a walk down memory lane. But … you knew there was a “but” coming. So often in church-y circles the “best of” posts are either all men or men in overwhelming proportions. I’ve been blogging for more than three years now and I keep hoping this will change. That the onset of the internet will bring about changes to this dynamic. But I’m not seein’ it yet.

Don’t get me wrong. There are some men (Rick “Blind Beggar” Meigs, Bill Kinnon, Brother Maynard, Brad Sargent, John Smulo, Shawn Anthony and some others to name a few) who are wholly committed to women in full partnership in life, ministry, blogging, you-name-it. They have gone above and beyond to support women and engage them equally.

What does that look like? I know a lot of folks are put off by idea of feminism and I’m mystified by that. But let’s look at it from another perspective. We all look at families and tend to agree that a “whole and healthy” family includes a mother (female) and a father (male). No matter what your feelings are about who should be in charge and when, we all know that healthy families require both the male and the female perspective to adequately parent, raise, etc. the children. At the very least, there are whole books on the subject of healthy families requiring two parents where one takes on the feminine role and the other the masculine (in the case of homosexual relationships). We know very clearly what the lack of men does to a family and what the lack of a mother can bring to children. So my question is … why do we find this lack of the feminine voice or perspective so very acceptable in church/ministry leadership?

It is in the interest of balancing out the perspectives that I present my Best of 2008 … plus one from 2007 because it was so good.

… in no particular order …

Erika Haub – The Margins – “the church that came to me”

“When she saw me her eyes teared up, and as she spoke she started to cry. She told me that she could not believe that I had let her into my home, with full access to all of our things, and then closed my door and gone to sleep. She said that she had never felt so trusted by someone; she had never felt so much pride and dignity and worth as someone who did not have to be doubted and feared.”

Kathy Escobar – the carnival in my head – “what could be”

here’s my hope:

that we’d be people & communities radically in touch with Christ’s love for us & continue to risk our comfort, ego, time, money, and heart to offer mercy & compassion to others. that we’d be somehow known as ‘those weird people who love other people unconditionally, tangibly, and in all kinds of crazy, unexplainable ways.”

Tracy Simmons – The Best Parts – “The Rescue Parade”

When people rescue dogs or trees or human beings, they are displaying how much they are made in the image of their creator. He longs to see all things rescued and restored. It’s in our spiritual DNA whether we are aware of it or not.

Makeesha Fisher – Swingin’ From the Vine – “Missional: It Sure Ain’t Velveeta”

Being missional is hard work. Getting down and dirty in people’s lives, giving everyone a platform and allowing your voice to form from within the context of community versus individual aspirations and spirituality is not a nice easy package deal. You can’t just cut off a block from the end of the yellow brick and nuke it to gooey perfection. It’s time consuming and risky and generally not very “pretty”.

Rose Madrid-Swetman – RMD -

“Building To Serve Others Part 1”
“Building To Serve Others Part 2”
“Building To Serve Others Part 3”

We discussed the pros and cons, the why’s and why not’s of taking the step of leasing a space. Our biggest fear was that we would lose sight of the congregation as the church. You see when we rented a basement room for Sunday worship only, everything else we did as a faith community happened in our neighborhoods, the host community and in homes. Moving into a leased space that we would have 24/7 access to could endanger us to put the emphasis on the building as the church rather than the church being the people.

Heidi Renee – Redemption Junkie – “Great Losers”

I just can’t seem to walk past a smidgen of interesting brokenness or discarded story. I am so moved by outsider and found art because deep in my heart I long to be a mosaic artist. I have not yet begun to piece together those precious bits and fragments pocketed along my journey.

Julie Clawson – One Hand Clapping – “Experience and Empathy”

It’s one thing to intellectually acknowledge the need for better health care around the world, I am discovering it is another thing altogether to attempt to imagine oneself in another’s position. I knew the need for equity before, but my experiences have helped me to empathize. I know I am lucky and privileged. I don’t desire to trivialize or cheapen the plight of others by claiming to truly understand, but I am a firm believer that empathy is necessary if one is to truly care and make a difference. And experience helps with that.

Grace – Kingdom Grace – “Disciples or Converts”

I think that we often circumvent the real life of the Spirit in conversion methods, discipleship methods, and in the way that we function together as groups of believers. What are the ways that we tamper with natural growth and unintentionally cause lack of reproduction and other genetic deformities?

Pam Hogeweide – How God Messed Up My Religion – “First Time To Notice A Homeless Person”

He looked over at me. Our eyes locked, me the middle-class teenager from a middle-class Vegas family; him, the ghost of someone’s son now orphaned and phantomed like the nobody he knew he was born to be and die as was. It was a definitive moment for me. In that one glance I saw past the dirty beggar who didn’t have a job or a home. I caught a swift glimpse of a man who was not born for greatness, but was just born. He had no purpose, no grand plan. No derailed American dream to be somebody. For an instance I saw my brother, my father, my son and my husband. This unknown man was more than a Utah phantom. But that one look told me that not only had he become invisible to others, the true man of who he was – this beggar was an imposter of his true greatness – but more urgently, he had become invisible to himself. He did not matter.

Christine Sine – Godspace – “Discerning The Winter Blues”

I was reminded that I once read that the tradition of Advent wreaths actually began because farmers took the wheels of their wagons during the wet winter months and this became the framework for the Advent wreath. Now I am not sure that any of us would consider taking the wheels off our cars over the winter but I do think that we need to build times of rest, reflection and renewal into our schedules. Maybe we should stop driving our cars at least for a few days so that we can relax and refresh. We are not meant to continually live in harvest season. We are not meant to be continually producing fruit or even be continually blossoming. In fact plants that are forced into bloom at the wrong season by florists never recover their natural rhythm. Most of them will never blossom again.

Cheesehead – A Cheesehead In Paradise – “A Sermon for the Celebration of the Reign of Christ”

(Let me say for the record, if any of you are considering running for elected office, and someone comes to church to see what kind of sermons you listen to, and nobody finds anything even the least bit sketchy that I have said—if nothing I preach is found to be even the slightest bit counter-cultural and it’s all perfectly agreeable—that’s probably not a good thing and you should call me on it.)

Christy Lambertson – Dry Bones Dance – Abortion Series

1 – Late Night Comedians, American Politicians & Abortion Week
2 – Nuance is Bad For Fundraising
3 – Put Away the Coat Hangers
4 – Let Me Tell You About Your Experience
5 – We Have Met The Enemy and They Are Partly Right (part I)
6 – We Have Met The Enemy and They Are Partly Right (part II)

That’s why I have declared it to be Abortion Week here at Dry Bones Dance (or possibly Abortion Month, depending how long I go between posts.) Whatever your position is, I’m not going to try to change it. Really. I promise. I just want to take an emotionally charged, extremely polarizing issue, and show how our public conversation about it – from both sides – virtually guarantees that we won’t ever get anywhere on the issue.

Erin Word – Decompressing Faith – “The Tribe”

This tribe is not bound by collective adherence to a doctrine or by a building, but in mutual love for each other and a desire to set each other free from the things which have chained us. My tribe is not a place where anyone has to justify their experiences, but a place where we learn from a myriad of voices. My belief in the value of Jesus in my life is unwavering; many other aspects of my faith are in constant flux as I learn and grow. This I am able to do in a community where boundaries are elastic and belief is defined only by a love for Christ. Searching together for ways to better love on the world and on others, as Jesus exemplified, is the common thread we share.

Sally Coleman – Eternal Echoes “Perichoresis”

Sally writes gorgeous poetry and takes stunning photographs of beaches, sunsets and people.

AJ Schwanz – AJ Schwanz “High Bar”

And then I wonder: am I just being me-centric? Is this something God’s calling me to, or is this me being idealistic and believing the grass is always greener? What if it doesn’t look the way I think it should? What if it’s right in front of my face and I’m ignoring it because I don’t like the way God’s engineered it? When push comes to shove, would I make the sacrifice; or would I be sad, hang my head, and walk away?

Cynthia Ware – The Digital Sanctuary – “Lord Teach Us To Pray, Virtually”

I see the benefits….yet there is a part of me that still feels like something is funny about it. It feels like it should be ‘in addition to…’ instead of a replacement for interacting with your small group or people that can actually pray and stop by and drop off a casserole.

Molly Aley – Adventures In Mercy – “Obama Ushers In End Times”

I literally thought that God wanted me to war against my culture. I believed that culture was out to get me, out to get my kids, out to get my church. I mistakenly forgot the real enemy, and thought it was my culture instead, unlike God, who knew exactly what the real problem was when He came down INTO an equally-fallen culture. He saturated Himself in it, unafraid to pal around with the worst of the lot and, interestingly, the only ones He had a real problem with were the ones righteously abstaining from said culture.

Peggy Brown – The Virtual Abbess – “Abi and Covenant”

What The Abbess is looking for as part of the whole missional order discussion is a “rule of life” and a “rhythm of life” that provides a group of Christ followers with a focus, a framework, for the working out of our cHesed — our already-existing sacred duty to love God and love each other — in the context of apprenticing disciples.

Sr. Joan Chittister – From Where I Stand – “A Glimpse Of Oneness For A Change”

The struggle between “red states” and “blue states” in the “United States” may be a political problem but, if truth were told, “oneness” is not something religion has been particularly good at over time either. Religions and religious professionals have been far more devoted over the years to creating Absolutes of themselves. They routinely cast other religious and their scriptures and prayers and beliefs into hellfire. They persecuted and oppressed and either forced people into their own religious tribe or hounded them out of it. They made converts at the end of a sword and divided families and called one another pagans and infidels. Many still do.

Judith Hougen – Emergent Self – “Part Two – Incarnational Reality”

With very few exceptions, none of the people who’ve helped me understand and walk in incarnational reality have been Evangelical Christians. Which might help explain why conservative Christians can be mean sometimes. You really must deny incarnational reality (except in theory) in order to behave so contrary to the way of Jesus. You would have to work awfully hard to denigrate others while walking in a conscious awareness of God’s loving presence. Incarnational reality demands a response–either we open to Christ in each encounter, each breath, or we honor–I dare say worship–our own feelings, agenda, and sense of rightness.

Elizabeth Potter – Still Emerging – “They Used To Call Me Betty”

The lack of fit intensified as I grew older such that when I relocated to a new city a number of years ago, I decided to ‘change’ my name. Rather than introducing myself to new people I met as “Betty,” I asked them to call me “Elizabeth.” It has taken years for my family to adjust to this ‘new’ moniker, but finally I have a name that fits. It is strong, and regal, and seems ‘just the right size.’ They used to call me “Betty,” but I have chosen to rename myself. Hello, my name is “Elizabeth.”

Kim Petersen – Chrysalis Voyage – “Robust Faith”

Maybe it’s why I liked this response from a listener who wrote in: “Doubt is not the opposite of faith. Doubt is faith struggling. Where God is concerned there must always be room for doubt.” Chief Rabbi Sacks picked up on it earlier in his interview by challenging Humphrys: “If you didn’t have faith you wouldn’t ask the question…Faith is in the question.” Humphrys dismisses the statement as a cop out meant to shut down the conversation, but for me this statement contained the crux of the whole issue. Contrary to popular belief, there is not a shut down in intellect and a blind leap into the unknown. There is an intentional ongoing search for Truth and a coming to grips with and peace with that which will always remain a mystery. They are not mutually exclusive. A robust faith encompasses the doubt, the struggle.

cross posted on my blog – Calacirian

by Euodia

Are you a “biblical woman” according to the True Woman Manifesto?