“Mom, what’s a…eunuch?”
This wasn’t exactly the direction most bedtime devotionals take us, but I’m a believer in unschooling, teachable moments, and answering children’s questions with a frank, calm, honesty. My ten-year-old daughter and I wound up talking together till way past her bedtime, and a lot of thinking and learning took place…for both of us.
Thanks to her father’s suggestion that she start on the book of Esther (one of only two books of the Bible actually named for women), we fell into deep waters pretty quickly in the first chapter alone. I won’t detail all my footnote discourses, but ‘eunuch’ led to ‘harem’, ‘concubine’, and the sociopolitical structure of the Persian empire. Sigh.
I was at first disconcerted to realize that my ten-year-old daughter is getting her devotions filtered through the new lenses of Ronna Detrick and Rachel Held Evans, Christine Valters Paintner, Dana Reynolds, Elisabeth Klein, Jennifer Louden, and even Sheri Tepper and Mary Oliver. Women of faith and intellect, who write, who think, who discourse, who stand for a new order of exegesis and scriptural truths…bringing a female and feminist perspective, changing my patterns of thinking and challenging my own eisegesis!
What was it that kept us talking so long, flowed out of my heart to hers, began working in my daughter’s mind as a basis for reading the stories of Scripture and soaking in its truths? Did she come away with ‘men are bad (but God is good)’? Was the message she took from the story of Esther ‘female beauty has power’ or ‘use sex to get what you want’? Was it ‘women should obey their husbands’ or ‘Xerxes was a drunken, abusive, narcissist’? As Rachel puts it, some of the aspects of this story didn’t show up on the flannelgraphs in Sunday School.
Perhaps when you think of Queen Vashti, you have the picture of a haughty, defiant bitch – the prom queen type, who refused to come out of her room because of a zit in the wrong place. But a bit more backstory and the social context lets us see that a hard-partying king was ordering her to display herself (some commentators believe this refers to her body, which he wanted to show off as his unique possession – with ONLY her royal crown as decor) in front of a huge group of well-lubricated men, not only the court and nobles whom she would have known, but outsiders, foreign envoys, and many more – entirely inappropriate. And the penalty for refusing wouldn’t have been as trivial as missing a dance with the hottest boy in the school, either. Like Esther, Vashti risked her relationship with the king – such as it was – , her position of favour, her royal status, and her life itself.
So rather than settling for the flannelgraph simplicity, the sweet pastoral Children’s Bible stories, and the binary ‘heroes and villains’ approach to teaching children about the Bible, I’m choosing the words of the text itself – in two or three different translations, to broaden perspective – and the most honest and raw contexts I can provide my daughter. She gets to see how the living word works and changes men and women – not only the real, unvarnished, complex, troubled, authentic characters in the Bible, but the people around her – her father, mother, friends, family. She learns that when we have difficulties, there is a great deal of wisdom to draw on…and endless power to access.
Instead of parroting and passing along the ugly old patriarchal interpretations and glowering punitive worldview of the doctrines I was raised in, I’m giving my daughter a much more open, loving, and egalitarian picture of God, of the Bible, of faith. She is growing, learning, strengthening her discernment muscles. She is learning to see and hear the stories of women, from a rich, feminine wisdom; learning how to develop hermeneutically; understanding what biases exist in both texts and readers; growing in faith instead of fear.
Upon consideration, I’m no longer disconcerted – no, I’m delighted, enlightened, humbled and grateful.
Because this is so honest, it’s fear-making to share it….but I’m putting it out there anyway. Because I want to encourage you, too, to listen to your wants, your boundaries, your comfort, your fears, your rules good and bad. Listen to them, figure out where and what they are and where they are coming from. And don’t be afraid to take a stand; hold your boundaries, gently say ‘no’ (or maybe the right ‘yes’!), explain what you believe, say what you think, be honest (speak the truth in love…)
And keep on walking.
I’m the happy clappy kind of Christian, oh, yes. I’m the one who speaks in tongues and lays on hands. I’m audacious enough to believe God is still speaking, still moving, still alive, still loving. I’m the one you warn the others about – stay away from that kind of mystic, you say, it’s a slippery slope. I’m the crazy one who worships with her whole body in her whole life – you might find me on my knees on a cold gymnasium floor with all the other renewal-ish people around me, or you might find me in a cathedral during Eucharist with my palms quietly up on my knees, receiving, always receiving, or you might find me in a field ringed with pine trees while I pray and pray and pray. I’m the dreamer of dreams, the speaker of visions, the heart-beating-faster with words of knowledge and unafraid to speak. Sarah Bessey
The character of discourse in the realm of religion also differs from the one we normally adopt in scholarly or scientific discussions. In the realm of scholarly discourse logic reigns supreme. Or it should. It is the discourse of fine distinctions, precise terminology and rigorous analysis. In that theoretical realm one persuades by reasoned argument. Not so in the realm of religion. There the language of speech is emotive, like the language of therapy and of love and of passion. What is said in that realm makes us feel at home or raises our blood pressure. The language of religion aims to convict and is directed at the heart. It makes one squeal with glee or squirm uncomfortably. To understand the meaning of this language demands empathy of the heart rather than logic of the head.
The language of religion is the language of soul. It is deliberately provocative. It makes one happy or sad or angry. To understand soul one needs to park one’s reason and open one’s heart. It requires empathy rather than analysis.
Harry VanBelle, emeritus professor of psychology, Christian psychologist and psychotherapist – 2013
Quote by Parker J. Palmer