Women Together: the best kind of danger

Sep 27, 2006 | Hope & Encouragement, My sort-of Sermons, Women's Voice & Power, Women's Wisdom

I just returned from three glorious days on the waterfront in Gig Harbor, WA. If that wasn’t good enough, I was in the company of 15 amazing women – half of whom flew in from all over the U.S. and the other half of whom are located here in the Pacific Northwest.

Sally Morgenthaler was with us as the “host” of what she calls Conversations. Together we reveled in each other’s company and the beauty of not only the location, but the faces, hearts, stories, and lives of those by whom we were surrounded.

I’m exhausted tonight, but I am also overwhelmed by the beautifully dangerous power present when women are together.

That danger is not to be feared, but embraced, welcomed, and aggressively ushered into many places that are deeply in need of the power women have to offer. It is not a command-and-control kind of power, but power that is deeply connective, deeply intuitive, deeply generative, deeply creative, and deeply committed.

16 powerful, dangerous, beautiful women in one place for 3 days are now disbursed into their larger communities. They came strong, broken, tender, wounded, growing, struggling, rejoicing. They left more powerful, more dangerous, and more beautiful – with even more to offer, more tears to shed, more voices to raise, more eyes to open, more lives to change, more worlds to alter, heal, and lead.

I am not the same woman I was on Monday morning. Their voices have shaped and changed me. I am now more powerful, more dangerous, more beautiful, and more heartbroken, more committed, more compelled, more prepared, more tender, more strong. And I am not alone.

I am surrounded – in heart – by 15 amazing companions; women who have and will continue to labor on behalf of one
another and all that we are yet to birth. I’m grateful to every one of them. I’m hopeful for many more such conversations. And I love that danger abounds in their beauty and strength – and in my own!

Power & Privilege (and me)

Sep 6, 2006 | My sort-of Sermons, Sacred Stories, Women's Voice & Power

These words: power and privilege, have been part of numerous conversations lately. Some of those conversations have considered both from the perspective of not having either. Others have considered what it means to acknowledge both the words and their reality in our own lives and be aware of the “other” more intentionally. In all of them, the words seem to be tricky, hard to pin down, misunderstood,
confusing, and hard to stay focused on or do anything about.

Toward that end, I’ve been thinking about the story of Hagar – and Sarah – as example of power and privilege gone bad…on a number of levels.

Sarah is clearly the person in this relationship with power and privilege. Not as much as her husband, obviously, but still more than her maidservant, Hagar. When tension rises, Sarah uses her power/privilege card to get her way and Hagar is sent into the desert – twice! The
first time alone and pregnant and the second time with her young son.

This story disturbs me, in part because the conflict is between two women. Power and privilege belong to one and are used against the other, seemingly without any consideration of how that might be harmful, unfair, etc. I would hope for better. And, it still happens. So sad.

It also disturbs me because Sarah’s behavior has no element of self-reflection. It seems second-nature for Sarah to get her way – a mark of privilege’s familiarity for those who have such AND a lack of how such can be so profoundly damaging to those without.

I’m also disturbed by this story because historically as it’s been exegeted, we’ve focused on Hagar’s “insolence” and then implicitly assumed that she deserved to be cast away. After all, Sarah was the chosen one – the wife of Abraham, the bearer of God’s covenant. We’ve excused her behavior more often than not and have nearly ignored the plight of this powerless woman who is banished into distant lands, never to be heard from again. This common textual emphasis in itself, speaks loudly to our own comfort with power and privilege as predominantly white, middle-class Americans.

There’s enough to struggle with just in these realities but I think there’s more:

When we look more closely at Hagar’s story we come to see that she has a powerful and privileged encounter with God…unlike Sarah. She, the marginalized, powerless, unprivileged one is seen by God and sees God. She, the outcast, is the first theophany in all of Scripture. She, the one we’ve too often ignored, is the one who knows God in far more profound ways than Sarah, certainly, and frankly most of us.

What are we to learn from this? For me, it makes me wonder what I “miss” of God as long as I hold on to my own power and privilege. Power and privilege are woven into everything; they are not all or nothing “qualities.” I have them both – and both are used in ways that harm me and those around me.

These are hard conversations and they seem to me to be at the core of much, if not all, of the struggles of which I’m so acutely aware: issues of gender, race, inclusion, diversity, social justice, politics, theology…Is there anything untouched by these two words?

May I be a woman who is aware of her power and her privilege – its benefits and its potential to harm. May I be a woman who is not afraid of naming the misuse of power and privilege as it harms me – and those around me.

A quickly typed post. Lots more thoughts spinning in my head and heart. Undoubtedly, more to follow.

Will I tell you what I want?

Aug 14, 2006 | My sort-of Sermons, Sovereignty, Women's Voice & Power, Writing

A friend loaned me a book last week that I can’t put down. It’s called Women and Desire: Beyond Wanting to be
Wanted by Polly Young-Eisendrath. Check this out:

…as successful as (many) women have become, they often feel “out of control” in their personal lives. Although they can speak openly and passionately about the values and principles they believe in, and defend others’ rights, they still resist claiming and asserting personal needs and desires, especially when these are in conflict with others’. They fear being seen as too bossy or too self-absorbed.

There is something in me that reacts to this (and not favorably), while another part of me that knows it all too well. I am good at speaking openly and passionately about ideas and concepts, but when it comes to things I’m passionate about on my own behalf – both professionally and
personally? Well, that becomes a different story altogether.

I’ve been working a lot on this – diligently (and even passionately) – and I believe I’m making progress. It’s a challenge, though, to unlearn such well-taught and well-honed skills.

What does it mean for women to speak boldly of our own desires? Not desire for desire’s sake, but professionally, relationally, systemically, culturally, theologically. What does it mean to continue to speak and name what we see? To willingly choose to use our god-
given gifts of perception, intellect, and experience to provide alternative perspectives on things that often go unnoticed which can then cause subtle (and sometimes blatant) harm. What does it mean to have the courage to continue to speak, period?

All of this and then some is what I want
so deeply to be true for me – and for those with whom I live, work, and love. That’s what they deserve. That’s what I deserve.

In a similar vein, I read an article last night by the author of Finally Feminist: A Pragmatic Christian Understanding of Gender. Though I struggle a bit with both the title and the general idea of the book, there was one paragraph that caught my attention and has stuck with me the past couple of days: 

[She] urges women not just to wait for a brighter day, but to speak up now, and particularly about the small things…She points out that repeated small slights constitute large-scale social patterns of repression–that mountains can, in fact, arise out of the accumulation of molehills. So women can and must do something to keep the pattern from being reinforced.

I want to speak. Not because I have something urgent that needs to be shouted out, time and again, until it’s heard (though that is true) but because I want to be seen and known fully for who I most truly am, not some censored, edited version.

Yep. That’s what I really want.

Prophet as Female

Aug 9, 2006 | Hope & Encouragement, My sort-of Sermons, Sacred Stories, Spirituality, Women's Voice & Power, Women's Wisdom

While I was still a student at The Seattle School, I remember hearing one of my professors lecture on the categories of Prophet, Priest, and King. He said that a prophet “dreams of that which will one day be. He exposes and invites. And he is not liked. We try to silence prophets with shame by telling them that they are too emotional and/or that they just see too much.” In another class, when covering similar material he said, “The prophet is the guardian of hope. He envisions glory as it will one day be.” 

Let’s change all those pronouns, shall we?

I think these statements sound exactly like the soul of a woman.

Most of the women I know see well. They can name what they see – even if at great personal cost. And when they speak what they see and reveal what is true, many attempts are made to silence them – culturally, institutionally, and interpersonally. 

So what would it be like for women to intentionally embrace this persona as prophet as theirs? 

For me? I would know, beyond a shadow of doubt, that the potential for misunderstanding, dislike, and harm would be high. And I would still speak. I would name what I see, reveal what is, and repeatedly invite hope – functioning in ways that feel profoundly more true and consistent with who I most truly am. 

The bind here, of course, especially when we look at examples of prophets – particularly in Scripture. is that a) none of them are women; and b) none of them lived lives we’re remotely interested in! They did crazy things and had crazy things done to them. They weren’t heard. Or if they were, they were seen as practically diagnosable. Their own self-doubt was mammoth and their questions of the God who had purportedly “called” them were laden with conflict and angst. All because they spoke the truth. They called the people back to the God they’d forgotten. They spoke with kings and confronted corruption. They brought about change. And usually at great cost to themselves. 

Yes, that’s the bind. But it’s also the beauty.

Choosing to see myself as a prophetess  changes the way in which I choose to engage. It alters my readiness and expectation of potential harm. It increases my stamina, courage, and capacity to persevere. And I consistently hold on to hope and continue telling the truth. Beautiful, to be sure.

Rise up, prophetesses. We have much to say, much to offer, and redemption to bring about!

Piano Recitals

Jun 11, 2006 | Hope & Encouragement, Mothers and Daughters, My sort-of Sermons, Sovereignty

Yesterday my 9-year-old daughter, Emma, gave her first piano recital. She was joined by 5 other young pianists – though all of them already had their debuts behind them. 

It was lovely. 

Before we left the house Emma was anxious, teary, and wondering how to get out of even going. Confident she would “mess up” and embarrased and ashamed of that potential in advance, my discussion of positive self-talk and affirmation fell on deaf ears (though I continued anyway). 

When we got to the church it wasn’t long before her instructor made some welcoming comments and then called Emma up as the first performer. As I watched her walk forward, position herself and her music, and then lift her hands to the keys I realized that despite all her emotions she would follow through on what she needed (and wanted) to do. She would perform. 

And she did. Beautifully! 

I wonder how often my life is like this…deeply anxious about what’s to come and worried about whether or not I’ll “mess up,” but when it comes to the moment I step forward, get positioned, and play.

Perfection isn’t the point. Participation is. Playing is!

When my concern overrides my playing, no music results. And when no music results (regardless of form, quality, or expertise) the community cannot celebrate. 

When Emma finished each of her three songs the audience burst into applause. They celebrated with her and on her behalf. They celebrated because she showed up and played!

May we all be as brave as she was, trust that our individual efforts will make a difference when shared, and then play!

My Out Loud Voice

Jun 6, 2006 | Hope & Encouragement, My sort-of Sermons, Women's Voice & Power, Women's Wisdom, Writing

I was talking with a friend this morning about how common it is for women to lose their voices – not laryngitis-lose-their voices, but actually become silenced instead of speaking. And before I go further, maybe one more distinction is in order: it’s not just about speaking; it’s about naming. Women (and all of us to some degree) nd it incredibly difficult to name what we see, experience, and feel. The risk feels too great, the dangers too real, the ramifications too palpable. And so, we keep quiet – or at least compliant. 

I wonder what would happen if we chose to at least hear – if not speak – our true voice. What would it be like to even began that process by writing (for our own eyes only) what we really saw, experienced, and felt? What would it be like, if only for a time, to silence that internal editor, take the censoring filters completely off, and just express what we know to be most true? It seems like it might be a good first step toward actually speaking – and naming out loud. 

Do we even know what our true voice is saying; what it most wants to name? When we find ourselves in relational contexts that are difficult or strained do we hold back or do we say what we most want to say – and what we most accurately see? When we watch circumstances taking place in our work environment that are harmful to others or to ourselves do we speak what our heart is screaming, or do we remain silent so as not to be seen as disruptive, causing trouble, or seemingly risking position and influence? Of course, there is a time and place for using our voices, speaking, and naming. Not all relationships or circumstances are either safe or appropriate for such. But what I’m advocating is that we should at least know what our voice wishes it could say. That would be a huge step in the direction of actually saying…no…naming things, outloud. 

My voice is often silenced…more by my own fears than anything or anyone. And I know this is true because I’m acutely aware of the ongoing conversation that takes place in my head. But that’s not what I want. I want my inner voice to be consistent with the one others’ hear. In fact, I want to hear my own voice – spoken, not just echoing in my own mind. 

It’s not really about finding my voice. I know where it is. It’s a matter of bringing it out of hiding. Using it out loud. Will I? Not always. But sometimes…more times….I hope so…Yes. It’s worth hearing. I’m worth hearing. (That’s what my voice is naming even now!)