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Tuesday, September 15, 2009
Monday, April 27, 2009
Reading Between the Lines - Genesis 10
History, real solemn history, I cannot be interested in...I read it a little as a duty; but it tells me nothing that does not either vex or weary me. The quarrels of popes and kings, with wars and pestilences in every page; the men all so good for nothing, and hardly any women at all- it is very tiresome (spoken by Catherine Morland in Northanger Abbey by Jane Austen).
This is the account of the families of Shem, Ham, and Japeth, the three sons of Noah. Many children were born to them after the great flood. (Genesis 10:1)
31 more verses follow in this chapter, naming the sons, grandsons, great grandsons, and so on. Then these words in summary:
These are the clans that descended from Noah's sons, arranged by nation according to their lines of descent. All the nations of the earth descended from these clans after the great flood. (Genesis 10:32)
I don't need to name the obvious, but I will: no women show up here. Jane Austen would not be pleased: 32 verses of genealogy and the naming of those who re-populated the earth after the flood with no mention of the women who were obviously around in order to make this happen. But they are there. Without them, this chapter would not exist. Women are between the lines, between the generations - creating, carrying, birthing, bleeding, nurturing, nursing, growing the men and women whose stories will now be told.
I feel a mild level of frustration that none of these women are named; but I get it. And, more important than the cultural realities of genealogical recording of the time, they are hardly silent or absent.
Still, the silence and lack of naming continues. Women unheard and unnamed remains frustrating and incredibly angering in any context in which such exists. But just as in Genesis 10, it hardly means that women are silent or absent. It's critical that we learn to/choose to read between the lines.
We live in a culture that painfully objectifies and sexualizes women, where human trafficking is the third most profitable criminal activity, following only drug and arms trafficking with an estimated $9.5 billion generated in annual revenue and $4 billion attributed to the worldwide brothel industry. These women remain unnamed but it does not mean they do not exist. Indeed, it is my work, our work, to name them, to end their (and our complicit) silence, to speak on their behalf. And, in so doing, speak on our own behalf and that of all women who have gone before us - including the wives and daughters of Noah's descendants.
In addition to issues of social justice affecting unnamed women, I wonder about its continuing reality in my own life. What does it means for me to continue to bring forth life - to create, carry, birth, bleed, nurture, nurse, and grow - in a world that may not ever hear my name? On one level, it's painful, frustrating, angering. On another, between the lines, I know that I am in the text, frankly, that I am actually writing the text in my own story and in my advocacy on behalf of my daughters' and other unnamed women - past, present, future - regardless of whether I make it into the genealogies, the publishing world, the limelight of Oprah.
Genesis 10 shouts to us - inviting us to hear the voices of generation upon generation of women. I imagine a microphone attached to each one and the power of allowing their voices to be heard, their names to be called, their lives to matter. Maybe I am that microphone, whether named or not. Maybe when I read Genesis 10 that's what matters: that I hear their voices and then let them be seen, honored, celebrated. And my theology would tell me that such has already happened, is happening; that God hears them/us. That God sees them/us. That God names them/us.
Between the lines or not - we exist, we speak, we roar, we live, we matter.
Life on the planet is born of woman. (Adrienne Rich)
31 more verses follow in this chapter, naming the sons, grandsons, great grandsons, and so on. Then these words in summary:
These are the clans that descended from Noah's sons, arranged by nation according to their lines of descent. All the nations of the earth descended from these clans after the great flood. (Genesis 10:32)
I don't need to name the obvious, but I will: no women show up here. Jane Austen would not be pleased: 32 verses of genealogy and the naming of those who re-populated the earth after the flood with no mention of the women who were obviously around in order to make this happen. But they are there. Without them, this chapter would not exist. Women are between the lines, between the generations - creating, carrying, birthing, bleeding, nurturing, nursing, growing the men and women whose stories will now be told.
I feel a mild level of frustration that none of these women are named; but I get it. And, more important than the cultural realities of genealogical recording of the time, they are hardly silent or absent.
Still, the silence and lack of naming continues. Women unheard and unnamed remains frustrating and incredibly angering in any context in which such exists. But just as in Genesis 10, it hardly means that women are silent or absent. It's critical that we learn to/choose to read between the lines.
We live in a culture that painfully objectifies and sexualizes women, where human trafficking is the third most profitable criminal activity, following only drug and arms trafficking with an estimated $9.5 billion generated in annual revenue and $4 billion attributed to the worldwide brothel industry. These women remain unnamed but it does not mean they do not exist. Indeed, it is my work, our work, to name them, to end their (and our complicit) silence, to speak on their behalf. And, in so doing, speak on our own behalf and that of all women who have gone before us - including the wives and daughters of Noah's descendants.
In addition to issues of social justice affecting unnamed women, I wonder about its continuing reality in my own life. What does it means for me to continue to bring forth life - to create, carry, birth, bleed, nurture, nurse, and grow - in a world that may not ever hear my name? On one level, it's painful, frustrating, angering. On another, between the lines, I know that I am in the text, frankly, that I am actually writing the text in my own story and in my advocacy on behalf of my daughters' and other unnamed women - past, present, future - regardless of whether I make it into the genealogies, the publishing world, the limelight of Oprah.
Genesis 10 shouts to us - inviting us to hear the voices of generation upon generation of women. I imagine a microphone attached to each one and the power of allowing their voices to be heard, their names to be called, their lives to matter. Maybe I am that microphone, whether named or not. Maybe when I read Genesis 10 that's what matters: that I hear their voices and then let them be seen, honored, celebrated. And my theology would tell me that such has already happened, is happening; that God hears them/us. That God sees them/us. That God names them/us.
Between the lines or not - we exist, we speak, we roar, we live, we matter.
Life on the planet is born of woman. (Adrienne Rich)
Sunday, March 8, 2009
Nothing Much Changes
Human beings, who are almost unique in having the ability to learn from the experience of others, are also remarkable for their apparent disinclination to do so. (Douglas Adams)
Genesis 9 is filled with hope: dry land, clear skies, new life. Genesis 10 begins with hope as well: God's covenant to never again destroy life. Sealed with a rainbow. The spoken commission: Be fruitful and multiply. The implied commissions: Move forward. Create families. Trust in My promise of faithfulness. Know life and love.
As with Adam and Eve, the cycle begins. Now with Noah, his sons, and their wives, the cycle resumes.
Despite witnessing the Control-Alt-Delete that just occurred. Despite experiencing the destruction of the earth and most of its people. Despite being umbilically attached to an ark for 40 days. Despite hearing God's expansive promise that there will never again be another flood. Despite it all, humanity is what emerges from that wooden vessel - in all its earthiness, rawness, and depravity. And with it, with us, hope emerges, as well.
The story held in the remainder of Genesis 9 leaves us reeling a bit. We've just experienced this amazing emergence from the waters into the beauty of a rainbow. After days and nights of darkness and damp, we breathe in the fresh air. And then we see Noah plant a vineyard, harvest the grapes into wine, get drunk and naked, be covered up by his sons and then curse them for such. Our heads are spinning. So quickly we move from "This is the sign of the covenant that I have established between me and all flesh that is on the earth" (Genesis 9:17) to "Cursed be Cannaan; lowest of slaves shall he be to his brothers..." (Genesis 9:25).
Where's the hope in that? Here is where I find it. Despite it all, nothing much changes. We are the same people - beautiful, frail, flawed, creative, destructive, glorious, crazy, sober, not. And perhaps more importantly, God is the same God - faithful, loving, gracious, kind, all about second (and infinite) chances.
We could read this story and feel a tinge of remorse, a sadness already creeping into our bones as we predict what turning more pages will bring. Or we could read this story in light of the larger narrative (even what we've already encountered in only the first 9 chapters) and feel a surging sense of hope.
Nothing much changes - humanity or God. That is good news. If, despite the reality of humanity (or maybe because of) God remains constant that tells me something insanely, wildly important and beautiful: who and how I am is not all that shocking. Who and how I am is worth creating for. Who and how I am is worth saving. Who and how I am is worth re-creating for. Who and how I am is worth being faithful for. Who and how I am is worth loving.
Nothing much changes. Thank God.
To err is human, but it feels divine. (Mae West)
Our humanity is a poor thing, except for the divinity that stirs within us. (Francis Bacon)
Saturday, February 7, 2009
A Breath of Fresh Air
I live in the Seattle area where the winter is long, the sky stays gray, and it's just generally damp and yucky for months on end. When the sun comes out on a rare day in winter or certainly as spring begins to arrive, most of us can hardly wait to get outside and just breathe. There is something renewing and life-giving and even hopeful about emerging from the months of darkness into the bright, clear skies, taking a deep breath, and realizing that the seasons will actually change, the sun will re-appear, and life will go on.
This is what Genesis 8 feels like to me. The text is inviting me to emerge from the gray and cold and step into the bright, clear skies of hope. It's like a breath of fresh air.
I imagine that this is just a small taste of what it must have felt like for Noah, his wife, his sons, and their wives as they finally stepped outside the ark, looked around, and breathed in fresh, spacious air. Undoubtedly, the shock of the devastation around them, the new, palpable awareness of loss, and the reality of what lay ahead may have been enough to send them cowering back inside. But even in the midst of such, there had to be a glimmer of hope.
Hope - when the dove returns.
Hope - when the cover is removed from the ark and dry land is seen.
Hope - when God says, "come out..."
Hope - when Noah builds an altar to mark God's faithfulness and care.
Hope - when God says, "never again will I curse the ground because of humankind..."
Hope - when we read the poetry of the last verses of this chapter: "As long as the earth endures, seedtime and harvest, cold and heat, summer and winter, day and night, shall not cease."
Hope - a breath of fresh air.
Cycles continue. Seasons continue. The darkness and light of day and night continue.
In the midst of my own gray, my own hovering in the cold, my own seemingly-endless darkness at times, I can count on the sun, the warmth, and the light - in due time. I can count on hope. I can count on breathing fresh air again.
This kind of hope is not in the absence of devastation. It's hope in the midst of.
Noah, his wife, their sons and their wives lived in a hope that was in the midst of. They stepped outside of what had been dark, dank, and depressing - and yet had saved them - into the dry, spacious, air around them - and breathed in.
Hope, like breath - in the midst of.
A good reminder for me today. Sort of like a breath of fresh air.
Wednesday, December 17, 2008
Noah's Wife
Genesis 7 begins one of the harder biblical texts. The task of trying to understand God's ways when they don't make sense to us is rife in these verses, in this flood, in this destruction. Often, the application taught lands on another task: being righteous like Noah.Finally, the day came when the LORD said to Noah, "Go into the boat with all your family, for among all the people of the earth, I consider you alone to be righteous. (Genesis 7:1)
Way too much pressure, I think - both to be considered the only righteous one and to have to try to live up to such a standard. As I take on the "task" of trying to understand God I want to opt toward love, relationship, and grace...on God's part and mine. This story makes that difficult. But not impossible.
A few years ago I came across a children's book by Sandy Eisenberg Sasso entitled Noah's Wife: The Story of Naamah. Here is how she describes the story she tells:
Suppose you are reading the biblical story about Noah and the ark. You wonder who was Noah's wife. What was her name, her story? Suppose you give Noah's wife a name, Naamah, and tell that she gathered two of every seed, every living plant, and created a garden on the ark. When the flood receded she replanted the earth's garden. In imagining this explanation, you would be creating a type of story that in Hebrew is called midrash. Many such stories were told by our ancestors to enrich the Bible. In time, some of these were written down, and then they were read again and again until they began to feel very old, as if they were always part of the tradition.
This story of Noah's wife is a modern midrash. You may use it to talk about the wisdom and courage of a woman and her role in saving the world from destruction. You may want to focus on the dandelions and the importance of caring for all living things, even those we might wish to ignore. The story may be the starting point of a conversation about our responsibility for caring for the earth. Most of all, the story of Naamah helps us to pause and take delight in the beauty of the natural world that surrounds us.
"...the wisdom and courage of a woman and her role in saving the world from destruction." That sounds like love, relationship, and grace to me.
Buy the book. Read the book. And imagine explanations that enrich another book: the Bible.
Tuesday, November 25, 2008
Kept Safe
Given all the strong, provocative, and affirming references to women in only these first six chapters of the Bible, it's amazing to me that the predominant theology and praxis for thousands of years has been far more inclined toward our weakness (of body and character), seduction, and shame. I certainly don't blame Scripture for this. And on some level, I don't even blame men. Context matters. History matters. It's not all that surprising (though no less disappointing) that the articulated thoughts of the learned and esteemed "experts" seeped into the consciousness of everyone around them and are now inculcated in not only our thoughts - conscious and unconscious - but the very fiber of our culture. But just because it is, doesn't make it OK. Rather, it invites me to re-imagining context and re-writing history - and then living in that reality; one that I think is far more consistent with Scripture's heart and intent.
The remaining verses of Genesis 6 (after the "beautiful women") read like this:
This is the history of Noah and his family. Noah was a righteous man, the only blameless man living on earth at the time. He consistently followed God's will and enjoyed a close relationship with him. Noah had three sons: Shem, Ham, and Japheth. Now the earth had become corrupt in God's sight, and it was filled with violence. God observed all this corruption in the world, and he saw violence and depravity everywhere. So God said to Noah, "I have decided to destroy all living creatures, for the earth is filled with violence because of them. Yes, I will wipe them all from the face of the earth! "Make a boat from resinous wood and seal it with tar, inside and out. Then construct decks and stalls throughout its interior. Make it 450 feet long, 75 feet wide, and 45 feet high. Construct an opening all the way around the boat, 18 inches below the roof. Then put three decks inside the boat-bottom, middle, and upper-and put a door in the side. "Look! I am about to cover the earth with a flood that will destroy every living thing. Everything on earth will die! But I solemnly swear to keep you safe in the boat, with your wife and your sons and their wives. Bring a pair of every kind of animal-a male and a female-into the boat with you to keep them alive during the flood. Pairs of each kind of bird and each kind of animal, large and small alike, will come to you to be kept alive. And remember, take enough food for your family and for all the animals." So Noah did everything exactly as God had commanded him.
God protects not only Noah, but women: Noah's wife and their sons' wives. On first glance I suppose this isn't all that profound. In order for the earth to be repopulated after its destruction women are going to be kind of important. I get it. But it's more than that. Listen to and look again at the words: But I solemnly swear to keep you safe in the boat, with your wife and yours sons and their wives. This is about more than procreation. This is about a God who is gracious and kind, beautiful and compassionate.
Despite history and theology's attempts - again and again - to shame women because of Eve's "fall," God's heart (and Scripture) says otherwise - again and again. We are kept safe. We are protected. We are chosen. We are honored. We matter.
For my own sake, and hopefully yours as well, let me say those words again - slightly re-phrased:
God keeps women safe. God protects women. God chooses women. God honors women. We matter.
God keeps me safe. God protects me. God chooses me. God honors me. I matter.
This may seem an over-simplified reading of this text or, at best, like trying to pull something out of nearly-nothing. Not to me. And here's why: in my own life the internal and external messages have been far different. They have sounded far more like this:
I am not safe. I am not protected. I am not chosen. I am not honored. I don't matter.
And the world around me continues to hammer these "truths" into my psyche. Domestic violence. Sexual trafficking. Pornography. Gender bias. Pay gaps. The list goes on and on.
For me, it's not oversimplified or nearly-nothing. It's everything. When Scripture offers me and all of us actual text, actual language, actual wording that heals those messages, I'm going to soak it up. With the onset of a flood (whether real or metaphorical), I am kept safe. When all seems lost, I am kept safe. When I feel like I'm drowning in a world that harms more than heals, I am kept safe. When I doubt my own value and worth, I am kept safe.
I am safe. I am protected. I am chosen. I am honored. I matter.
I am safe. I am protected. I am chosen. I am honored. I matter.
I am safe. I am protected. I am chosen. I am honored. I matter.
Language matters. The Text matters. Genesis 6:18 matters. Thanks be to God.
The remaining verses of Genesis 6 (after the "beautiful women") read like this:
This is the history of Noah and his family. Noah was a righteous man, the only blameless man living on earth at the time. He consistently followed God's will and enjoyed a close relationship with him. Noah had three sons: Shem, Ham, and Japheth. Now the earth had become corrupt in God's sight, and it was filled with violence. God observed all this corruption in the world, and he saw violence and depravity everywhere. So God said to Noah, "I have decided to destroy all living creatures, for the earth is filled with violence because of them. Yes, I will wipe them all from the face of the earth! "Make a boat from resinous wood and seal it with tar, inside and out. Then construct decks and stalls throughout its interior. Make it 450 feet long, 75 feet wide, and 45 feet high. Construct an opening all the way around the boat, 18 inches below the roof. Then put three decks inside the boat-bottom, middle, and upper-and put a door in the side. "Look! I am about to cover the earth with a flood that will destroy every living thing. Everything on earth will die! But I solemnly swear to keep you safe in the boat, with your wife and your sons and their wives. Bring a pair of every kind of animal-a male and a female-into the boat with you to keep them alive during the flood. Pairs of each kind of bird and each kind of animal, large and small alike, will come to you to be kept alive. And remember, take enough food for your family and for all the animals." So Noah did everything exactly as God had commanded him.
God protects not only Noah, but women: Noah's wife and their sons' wives. On first glance I suppose this isn't all that profound. In order for the earth to be repopulated after its destruction women are going to be kind of important. I get it. But it's more than that. Listen to and look again at the words: But I solemnly swear to keep you safe in the boat, with your wife and yours sons and their wives. This is about more than procreation. This is about a God who is gracious and kind, beautiful and compassionate.
Despite history and theology's attempts - again and again - to shame women because of Eve's "fall," God's heart (and Scripture) says otherwise - again and again. We are kept safe. We are protected. We are chosen. We are honored. We matter.
For my own sake, and hopefully yours as well, let me say those words again - slightly re-phrased:
God keeps women safe. God protects women. God chooses women. God honors women. We matter.
God keeps me safe. God protects me. God chooses me. God honors me. I matter.
This may seem an over-simplified reading of this text or, at best, like trying to pull something out of nearly-nothing. Not to me. And here's why: in my own life the internal and external messages have been far different. They have sounded far more like this:
I am not safe. I am not protected. I am not chosen. I am not honored. I don't matter.
And the world around me continues to hammer these "truths" into my psyche. Domestic violence. Sexual trafficking. Pornography. Gender bias. Pay gaps. The list goes on and on.
For me, it's not oversimplified or nearly-nothing. It's everything. When Scripture offers me and all of us actual text, actual language, actual wording that heals those messages, I'm going to soak it up. With the onset of a flood (whether real or metaphorical), I am kept safe. When all seems lost, I am kept safe. When I feel like I'm drowning in a world that harms more than heals, I am kept safe. When I doubt my own value and worth, I am kept safe.
I am safe. I am protected. I am chosen. I am honored. I matter.
I am safe. I am protected. I am chosen. I am honored. I matter.
I am safe. I am protected. I am chosen. I am honored. I matter.
Language matters. The Text matters. Genesis 6:18 matters. Thanks be to God.
Monday, November 17, 2008
Beautiful Women
Here's the beginning of Genesis 6:
When the human population began to grow rapidly on the earth, the sons of God saw the beautiful women of the human race and took any they wanted as their wives. Then the Lord said, "My Spirit will not put up with humans for such a long time, for they are only mortal flesh. In the future, they will live no more than 120 years." In those days, and even afterward, giants lived on the earth, for whenever the sons of God had intercourse with human women, they gave birth to children who became the heroes mentioned in legends of old.
Much exegesis has surrounded these verses and, understandably, much confusion. I will not attempt to add any more into the mix - exegesis or confusion. Rather, I want to focus again on what the text uncovers for us...but is often left covered.
Beautiful women...
Again, just two chapters out of Eden, this feels significant. Women are not shamed or shame-full creatures still bearing the weight of the first sin - at least not by the Text itself. As in chapter four and five, women are integral, involved, important - and in relationship with God. In addition, they are beautiful.
For me, a woman who has struggled with self-image for most of her life, I have not been anchored in or invited to biblical texts that speak of my beauty. There's what is shame-full. How different would I feel about myself had I been told, again and again, that the narratives of scripture speak of women as beautiful (vs. sinful)? Even as I type the words I begin to feel different. And I begin to desire SO much more of the same for my daughters, now only 10 and 12.
Again and again I am struck by this Text; not one that harms women but that is our advocate, champion, and redeemer in the face of thousands of history that has harmed, has not advocated, championed, or redeemed through the Text.
Genesis 6 says "beautiful women." Indeed.
When the human population began to grow rapidly on the earth, the sons of God saw the beautiful women of the human race and took any they wanted as their wives. Then the Lord said, "My Spirit will not put up with humans for such a long time, for they are only mortal flesh. In the future, they will live no more than 120 years." In those days, and even afterward, giants lived on the earth, for whenever the sons of God had intercourse with human women, they gave birth to children who became the heroes mentioned in legends of old.
Much exegesis has surrounded these verses and, understandably, much confusion. I will not attempt to add any more into the mix - exegesis or confusion. Rather, I want to focus again on what the text uncovers for us...but is often left covered.
Beautiful women...
Again, just two chapters out of Eden, this feels significant. Women are not shamed or shame-full creatures still bearing the weight of the first sin - at least not by the Text itself. As in chapter four and five, women are integral, involved, important - and in relationship with God. In addition, they are beautiful.
For me, a woman who has struggled with self-image for most of her life, I have not been anchored in or invited to biblical texts that speak of my beauty. There's what is shame-full. How different would I feel about myself had I been told, again and again, that the narratives of scripture speak of women as beautiful (vs. sinful)? Even as I type the words I begin to feel different. And I begin to desire SO much more of the same for my daughters, now only 10 and 12.
Again and again I am struck by this Text; not one that harms women but that is our advocate, champion, and redeemer in the face of thousands of history that has harmed, has not advocated, championed, or redeemed through the Text.
Genesis 6 says "beautiful women." Indeed.
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