This past week, Christians have been invited to sign a statement crafted by 14 men that addresses the gospel and social justice. Published on September 4, 2018, the statement has been signed by 6414 people to date. The statement, which includes an introduction and 14 affirmations and denials on a range of topics, greatly troubled me upon reading it. I feel compelled to respond upon considering (1) my students, my neighbors, my family members, my friends, my colleagues, and total strangers who are not believers who may encounter this statement and assume that it accurately represents the beliefs of all Christians and the God who reveals himself in scripture, and (2) my brothers and sisters in Christ who are racial, ethnic, or linguistic minorities in the United States and may feel unheard, unimportant, and unvalued by the contents of this statement.
For the sake of my time, I am addressing only my five biggest concerns with the statement by asking the following quesitons.
What is the role of social activism in the church?
The Statement on Social Justice and the Gospel denies that social and political activism should be a primary mission of the church. While I agree that the church exists to worship God through teaching the gospel and equipping believers, I believe that worship without whole heartedly seeking justice is precisely the kind of worship that God disdains, as indicated repeatedly in scriptures such as Amos 5, James 1, and Micah 6. In Matthew 22, Jesus himself states the great commandment to love your neighbor as yourself, second only to loving the Lord your God with every fiber of your being. And, to leave us without doubts and excuses, Jesus even tells a parable in Luke 10 to clarify that there are no exceptions to the word neighbor.
The Statement on Social Justice and the Gospel affirms that all scripture, including the above verses, are breathed by God himself. I agree with them on that, which is why I am convinced that, in light of these scriptures, it is impossible for me to obey the commandment of Christ to love my neighbor without engaging in social and political activism. When 33% of women experience some form of sexual assult in their lifetime, when black Americans are incarcerated at more than 5 times the rate of white Americans, when the infant mortality rate is over twice as high for black babies than it is for white babies, when the poverty rate for black and hispanic Americans is over twice that of white Americans, when immigrant children are separated from their parents at the border, when Native American youth have a higher rate of suicide than all ethnicities in the country, then how can I love my neighbors without involving myself socially and politically in fighting for their lives?
What responsibility do white Christians have to repair historical oppression of people of color in America?
In their discussion of the issue of sin, The Statement on Social Justice and the Gospel denies that anyone is morally responsible for the sin of other people, adding that future generations share the guilt of their ancestors only if they approve of, embrace, or attempt to justify the sins of the past. This statement seems to me to be implying that as long as white Christians do not condone slavery and oppression, there is no need for them to make any reparations to any descendants of African slaves or people of color who were oppressed thoughout the history of our country. Therefore, according to The Statement on Social Justice and the Gospel, all white Christians who agree that slavery and oppression are wrong are off the hook, innocent, and unstained by the sins of their fathers.
Frankly, I find this conclusion to be dangerous. Whether we recognize it or not, white people like me have benefitted from the systemic oppression of racial minorities in America for as long as America has existed. While we may disprove of the ugliness of American history that includes the slavery and segregation of black people and the abuse of Native Americans, we continue to participate in these oppressive systems by enjoying the economic, social, and political power that our skin color affords us at the expense of the rest of our non-white neighbors. Perhaps many white Christians participate in these systems unknowingly, failing to recognize the power that they clutch in their closed fists instead of releasing their grip and reallocating it among people groups who have historically been powerless and voiceless in our country for generations. However, unknowing participation is still participation.
Clearing white Christians of moral responsibility for oppression that they participate in is dangerous because it feeds white supremacy. When we as white people do not have to recognize our role in oppression, then we can assume that the playing field is equal and that any unequal distribution of power is earned, which affects not only the way that we may (perhaps subconsiously) understand ouselves as superior, but also the way that we may understand non-white people groups as inferior because they seemingly underachieve on what is mistakenly believed to be an equal playing field.
Reparation is the act of repairing something that you have broken or benefited from being broken, the making of amends - monetarily or otherwise - of a wrong that has been committed. I believe that the Bibe provides multiple examples of reparations (Luke 19, Leviticus 6, Numbers 5, Exodus 22). Simply agreeing that slavery and historical oppression was wrong does not serve to clear white Christians of the guilt of continuing to participate in and benefit from oppressive systems without seeking justice. Those of us who have benefitted from systemic oppression must first repent and then repair. Repairations invite us to help fix what has been broken. Christ sets an example as the ultimate repairation. Whereas usually the guilty party must make things right, in the case between God and humanity, the innocent Lamb of God made reparations on behalf of us who sinned against him. He not only paid our debt through his own death on the cross, but imputed his own righteousness to us that we may be children of God.
Are some cultures inherently better than others?
This is not a question that I should have to address. But I do. And, to be clear, the answer is a loud, resounding, emphatic No.
But The Statement on Social Justice and the Gospel affirms that there are cultures that operate on biblical principals and that by operating on biblical principals that the assumptions of these particular cultures are inherently better than those of other cultures. I fear that the writers of this document were implying that the biblical principals present in white American culture or white evangelical culture makes the assumptions of those cultures inherently better than others. If this is indeed what is being implied here, then it seems to me that the authors of the statement have forgotten that the cultures in question have often and repeatedly misused or twisted their biblical principals in order to justify terrible things such as slavery, segregation, oppression of Native Americans, and the separation of immigrant children from their parents at the border. Clearly, the presence of biblical principals in a culture does not guarantee godliness.
Even if the presence of biblical principals in a culture did guarantee godliness, the very suggestion that there exists superior cultures (and therefore inferior cultures) is unacceptable, especially coming from a group of authors who represent very few cultures. As human beings immersed in our own specific cultures, we are not capable of accurately judging other cultures. We do not always realize it, but we have been taught how to think about things in a certain way through our cultural upbringing. This point of view affects the way we see the world around us, including other cultures. When looking at other cultures through the lens of our own culture, we automatically compare the other culture to what we deem to be right and normal based on our cultural perspective. This makes us automatically blind to some of the good things that are present in other cultures just because they contradict something about our own culture that we believe to be good.
The very concept of comparing the goodness of cultures is utterly ridiculous, but if such absurd games must be played, then the table must be much much bigger so that every single culture can be equally represented. To think that we can speak for any culture other than our own is ethnocentric, and to consider that we can even have an accurate perception of our own culture is presumptuous.
Must Christians reject intersectionality, radical feminism, and critical race theory?
No.
The Statement on Social Justice and the Gospel clearly and directly rejects intersectionality, radical feminism, and critical race theory. Intersectionality is the way that various forms of discrimination (gender, race, age, sexuality,...) converge and overlap. The aim of radical feminism is to dismantle patriarchy in society. Critical race theory seeks to uncover racism in structures and institutions with the goal of finding solutions that lead to justice. I have relatively little to say about this because I don't understand how one could possibly argue that these three ideologies are so inconsistent with Christian beliefs that they must be completely rejected. On the contrary, each of these ideologies seem to align with different parts of biblical justice that I see throughout scriptures.
We believe that God created human beings in his own image. When multiple kinds of discrimination converge upon image bearers, Christians cannot stand by in silence. Thus, the study of intersectionality can be useful.
During his earthly ministry, Jesus listened to, valued, loved, and taught women. He even invited women to learn from him alongside men in Luke 10, a startling challange to the patriarchy of his society. In light of that, radical feminist ideologies may reflect parts of God's design for men and women.
As far as critical race theory goes, I cannot figure out how recognizing systemic and institutional racism and white supremacy in the United States and seeking to dismantle it goes against biblical principals that call us to love our neighbors.
As Christians, what do we do with the topic of homosexuality and the LGBTQ community?
By directly rejecting "gay Christian" as a possible identity, The Statement on Social Justice and the Gospel implies that justification must include being made right with God and being made heterosexual, thus making sexuality a condition of salvation. Essentially, another requirement has been added to Romans 10:9. If you confess with your mouth that Jesus is Lord and believe in your heart that God raised him from the dead and are heterosexual, you will be saved. No. Romans 5 states that Christ died for us while we were yet sinners... homosexual sinners, heterosexual sinners, bisexual sinners, transgender sinners, sinners.
In 2017, 52 people were killed in hateful anti-LGBTQ violence. Despite disagreement with active LGBTQ lifestyles, Christians should be outraged at the way this group is treated as the biblical command to love your neighbor has no sexual orientation disclaimer. By rejecting the term "sexual minority" as a legitimate category, The Statement on Social Justice and the Gospel ignores the injustice of hateful violence against sexual minorities. Scripture does not leave space for us to only love and fight for the lives of those whom we agree with. We love because God first loved us, not because someone's sexuality, religion, or lifestyle makes them loveable.
In conclusion, this has not been an exhaustive discussion of the problems with The Statement on Social Justice and the Gospel. There is more to say. For anyone wishing to continue to investigate the topic, consider the following resources and will add to the list as necessary:
Ryan Burton King's Why I cannot and will not sign the "Social Justice and Gospel Statement"
The Immigration Project's John MacArthur, Social Justice, and The Gospel
Jemar Tisby's Battle lines form over social justice: Is it gospel or heresy?
Russel Moore's The Gospel and Social Injustice - Part 1 podcast
Saturday, September 8, 2018
Thursday, August 23, 2018
Do I really have the gift of singleness?
"You must have the gift of singleness," he said to me.
I made the same face that I would have made if he had told me that I have the gift of chicken pox. You may have made the same face if you thought, like I did, that the gift of singleness is some sort of supernatural ability reserved for those who will never marry, enabling them to be content with the otherwise lonely and miserable existence of singleness. I was fairly certain that I did not want this gift. Out of all the gifts, you just had to get singleness. Prophesying? No. Serving? No. Teaching? No. Encouraging? No. Giving? Oh no. Leading? No. Showing mercy? No. Being single? Yup. Congratulations.
I am not sure what this particular person meant by suggesting that I have the gift of singleness, but having a super spiritual ability to be single forever did not sound appealing to me. I felt a mixture of anger and fear. Tired of married people consistently inviting themselves to make unsolicited comments about my relationship status, I was angry that the comment had even been made in the first place. In my hopes to one day be a wife and mother, I feared that the statement was actually true.
But the danger of thinking of the gift of singleness as a superpower is that it makes singleness look like a terrible condition rather than the gift that it is. As I began to realize that the gift of singleness is actually the singleness itself, I began to enjoy the gift more and more. Understanding that singleness is a gift, for both the recipient and for the entire Church, not a curse or a state of being that can only be tolerated by supernatural power, brings much joy to me as a single person.
Being single allows me to focus on God in ways that would be different if I were married and gives me time to dedicate to service, discipleship, and friendships in quantities that I would not have as a wife. The meals shared with my family regularly, the hundreds of hours spent planning lessons and field trips and study abroad programs, the quiet hours of the evening spent with an open Bible and a filling notebook, the unrushed phone calls and spur of the moment adventures, the rehearsals, the breakfast dates, the late night conversations over ice cream, being available at the drop of a hat to cover a shift or offer a ride, waking up every morning to encounter the reality that Christ is enough in my singleness... I treasure these parts of my life and some of it would look different if marriage was another piece of the puzzle.
Just like a marriage is a gift to the body of Christ in that it is a tangible representation of Christ's affection for and death defying dedication to his body, the Church, so my singleness is a representation of the sufficiency of Christ, showing that He alone is enough. The Church is full of these beautiful reminders of Christ's sufficiency in the lives of our single brothers and sisters: the unmarried businessman who entrusts his future to his Lord even though he always assumed that he would have gotten married by now, the single mother who prays for her children and relies on her sovereign savior to help her to raise and provide for her little ones, the widow whose faith rests on the one who will one day wipe every year from her eyes and abolish death and mourning forever, the divorced gentleman who daily pours his heart out to his all-sufficient savior in trust and surrender in the midst of heartbreak and pain, the never-married sister who has brought her sorrows and joys to the lover of her soul decade after decade. The sufficiency of Christ seen in singleness and his everlasting affection for his Church seen in marriage go hand-in-hand. Both represent reality and neither is able to fully portray life in Christ without the truth expressed in the other. The realest reality is Christ reigning as King, the all-sufficient living water who alone can satisfy the thirst of his beloved bride, the Church, for whom he gave himself and purified with his own blood. Embedded in this reality is the truth behind both singleness and marriage.
Instead of thinking of singleness as a gift, it is easy to think of singleness as loneliness and idolize marriage as the remedy. But singleness and marriage do not have to be opposites, one bad and the other good, one repulsive and the other desirable.
Because Jesus was single.
And to say that Jesus was lonely is to ignore the fact that he had complete and satisfying communion with the Father and the Holy Spirit until the moment on the cross when it was our sin, not his singleness, that separated him from the perfect unity that had existed since before the first sunrise. While we may feel the pangs of lonesomeness and deep desires for community during our lives, it is a spiritual impossibility for a Christian to be truly lonely because Jesus Christ endured separation from the Father so that we can abide with him forever.
Why do I idolize marriage when I worship a single, Middle Eastern, Jewish man who is more fully human than I have ever been? If anyone were to tell me that Jesus did not experience full humanity or abundant life because he was never married, I would laugh at the outrageous impossibility that the way, the truth, and the life himself could have missed out on the fullness of life. If Jesus was complete in his singleness, why do I consider myself to be incomplete in singleness? Marriage is not wrong. On the contrary, marriage is beautiful. Just like singleness is beautiful. Married and single people alike are created for relationship, and that longing for relationship can only be fulfilled in eternal community with Christ and with his bride, the Church.
So, do I have the gift of singleness? Yes. I have the gift of singleness because I am single. Being single is the gift. And it is a good gift. You have it, too, dear single friend. Enjoy it and use it, as you would any good gift, for as long as you have it.
And to the married friend listening in to the heart of this single sister, the gift that you have been given is good, too. Enjoy your marriage, and praise God for the representation of the sufficiency of Christ that you see in the lives of the single brothers and sisters around you.
Monday, February 19, 2018
Dear fellow white people, I think you should go see Black Panther
After a great deal of anticipation, Black Panther came out this week. This Marvel film that tells the story of the superhero, Black Panther, with a predominantly black cast has broken records as the highest grossing film with an African American director. I had the pleasure of seeing this movie recently, and I have a few suggestions for fellow white people.
1. Do not be outraged if black friends and neighbors celebrate this movie. Try to imagine how you would feel if it was hard for you to find a movie that represents your culture, features actors and actresses who share your ethnic heritage in important and heroic and genius roles as valued people, and does not portray people who look like you in a negative light. That's probably hard for you to imagine, considering that approximately 73% of characters with speaking roles in movies made from 2007 to 2015 are white according to a study done by the University of Southern California.
We see our own lives and identities and beliefs and cultures and realities reflected on the big screen all the time. But that is not true for our African American neighbors and friends and colleagues. Black lives and black identities are not reflected on the big screen with dignity nearly as often as white lives are. So, don't get upset that this movie is being celebrated. Don't complain that people are dressing up. Don't accuse the movie - or the people celebrating it - of being racist.
But Hannah, I don't dress up for movies just because they have a majority white cast. I don't attend movies just because the actors and actresses look like me. I don't celebrate movies just because I am represented in them.
I know. Because if you did, you would have to go to the movies every single day, dressed up and celebrating your representation.
But it would be different if there were very very few movies that represent you and give your sons and daughters heroes that look like what they see in the mirror. When a movie does come out that represents an under-represented group of people, that movie should be celebrated.
2. Go see the movie. Really really, go see it. You will not find people who look like you saving the day in this movie.
Why should we go to to this movie then? If it doesn't represent us, shouldn't we avoid it?
No.
Not at all.
We are not suffering from a lack of representation. In the same way that black people should see this movie because it represents them, white people should see it because it does not. The difference here is that white people have long been represented in Hollywood while black representation has been minimal.
What happens to us when we see movie after movie of white heroes and white people in the spotlight? How does this subconsciously effect the way we see ourselves and people of color around us? Is it possible that after seeing hundreds of movies featuring people who look like us, we have assumed that the real life everyday heroes and geniuses must also look like us? Does the constant stream of white-washed movies that we consume negatively, and often subconsciously, affect our ability to see people of color as image bearers of God? Could it be that when we get used to seeing black actors and actresses play minor roles or dangerous or weak characters, we automatically assign those negative characteristics to our African American neighbors? Would seeing black actors and actresses saving lives and being heroes on the big screen help us to see our African American neighbors as the valuable and beautiful people that they are? Is there any chance that putting the spotlight on more people who do not look like us would eventually help us to have a more healthy and realistic view of ourselves instead of seeing ourselves as the pinnacle of mankind? If our children grow up seeing black actors and actresses on the big screen portraying dignified roles as leaders of a beautiful, powerful, and uncolonized nation, is it possible that they will be able to see more clearly through the lies of white supremacy (lies that we have held so tightly to in order to preserve our control) and work harder to dismantle it?
But Hannah, this seems a little bit unfair. I feel like you are blaming me for something that is not my fault. I mean, I have no control over Hollywood. I did not choose to have all of these movies feature white people. I cannot be held responsible for the decisions of Hollywood. None of this has anything to do with me.
1. Do not be outraged if black friends and neighbors celebrate this movie. Try to imagine how you would feel if it was hard for you to find a movie that represents your culture, features actors and actresses who share your ethnic heritage in important and heroic and genius roles as valued people, and does not portray people who look like you in a negative light. That's probably hard for you to imagine, considering that approximately 73% of characters with speaking roles in movies made from 2007 to 2015 are white according to a study done by the University of Southern California.
We see our own lives and identities and beliefs and cultures and realities reflected on the big screen all the time. But that is not true for our African American neighbors and friends and colleagues. Black lives and black identities are not reflected on the big screen with dignity nearly as often as white lives are. So, don't get upset that this movie is being celebrated. Don't complain that people are dressing up. Don't accuse the movie - or the people celebrating it - of being racist.
But Hannah, I don't dress up for movies just because they have a majority white cast. I don't attend movies just because the actors and actresses look like me. I don't celebrate movies just because I am represented in them.
I know. Because if you did, you would have to go to the movies every single day, dressed up and celebrating your representation.
But it would be different if there were very very few movies that represent you and give your sons and daughters heroes that look like what they see in the mirror. When a movie does come out that represents an under-represented group of people, that movie should be celebrated.
2. Go see the movie. Really really, go see it. You will not find people who look like you saving the day in this movie.
Why should we go to to this movie then? If it doesn't represent us, shouldn't we avoid it?
No.
Not at all.
We are not suffering from a lack of representation. In the same way that black people should see this movie because it represents them, white people should see it because it does not. The difference here is that white people have long been represented in Hollywood while black representation has been minimal.
What happens to us when we see movie after movie of white heroes and white people in the spotlight? How does this subconsciously effect the way we see ourselves and people of color around us? Is it possible that after seeing hundreds of movies featuring people who look like us, we have assumed that the real life everyday heroes and geniuses must also look like us? Does the constant stream of white-washed movies that we consume negatively, and often subconsciously, affect our ability to see people of color as image bearers of God? Could it be that when we get used to seeing black actors and actresses play minor roles or dangerous or weak characters, we automatically assign those negative characteristics to our African American neighbors? Would seeing black actors and actresses saving lives and being heroes on the big screen help us to see our African American neighbors as the valuable and beautiful people that they are? Is there any chance that putting the spotlight on more people who do not look like us would eventually help us to have a more healthy and realistic view of ourselves instead of seeing ourselves as the pinnacle of mankind? If our children grow up seeing black actors and actresses on the big screen portraying dignified roles as leaders of a beautiful, powerful, and uncolonized nation, is it possible that they will be able to see more clearly through the lies of white supremacy (lies that we have held so tightly to in order to preserve our control) and work harder to dismantle it?
But Hannah, this seems a little bit unfair. I feel like you are blaming me for something that is not my fault. I mean, I have no control over Hollywood. I did not choose to have all of these movies feature white people. I cannot be held responsible for the decisions of Hollywood. None of this has anything to do with me.
I know. You did not ask for this. But you have it anyway. Being able to make an arbitrary choice on Netflix and be pretty well certain that your race will be fairly represented in the movie is a freedom reserved only for white people and therefore part of white privilege. Maybe you never asked for this, but cannot get rid of it. And you can recognize white privilege for what it is and make a conscious decision to seek out opportunities to watch films that put the spotlight on people who do not look like you. This is one of those opportunities.
There are no white heroes in Black Panther (but there is a white man who learns a lot from black women). And that's why we need to see it.
3. Don't forget that the God-Man from Nazareth did not have blonde hair, blue eyes, and fair skin. Christ is preeminent, and He is not white. This does not demonize whiteness, but it should adjust our perspective and cause us to question anything that suggests to us that whiteness is superior.
Do we believe that we are all one in Christ? (Galatians 3:28) Do we believe that Christ's sacrifice on the cross has not only broken the dividing wall of hostility between us and God, but also the dividing wall of hostility between every nation and tribe and people and tongue, all of whom will be represented for eternity in heaven as the bride of Christ, worshiping at the throne forever? (Ephesians 2:14, Revelation 7:9)
Is not our Jesus the one who saw and respected and listened to and valued and loved a disreputable Samaritan woman? (John 4) When we recall this, two things should happen in our hearts. First, we should be prompted to see the people around us who might be different from us, our Samaritans, with the same value that Christ saw in the Samaritan woman. And after we grasp that, we need to take one giant step back and stop relating to this story as if we are Jesus and the Samaritan woman is our neighbor, colleague, or friend from another culture. Jesus is Jesus and we are the Samaritan woman. We are the outsiders that were granted grace. We are the disreputable that were headed to eternal destruction. We are the totally depraved who have been adopted as sons and daughters. When we see ourselves in the Samaritan woman, we can no longer justify our supremacy.
In recognizing our position as recipients of grace unmeasured, let us assume a posture of humility as we look to those around us. Instead of allowing a white-washed Hollywood to inform our theories about our neighbors, may we look to Christ. When encountered with lies about our neighbors, may we respond with gospel truth that confirms and celebrate the image of God in our neighbors.
4. Use the momentum from this movie to ask hard questions, give honest answers, and push forward. Eventually, another movie is going to come out that captures the attention of the media and Black Panther will fade from the headlines. But as this movie becomes a historical moment rooted in February of 2018, continue to forge ahead and question your privilege.
In what other parts of your life does your whiteness give you an advantage, an excuse, a safety net? What other pieces of privilege can you recognize? How has the systemic racism in our society benefited you?
But I'm not racist, Hannah. I'm not racist. You're mistaking me for someone else; I am not racist.
I know. I'm not accusing you of being racist. I'm accusing us of living in a system that is inherently racist, benefiting from this system, and not doing anything about it. (And, actually... that might make us racist.)
3. Don't forget that the God-Man from Nazareth did not have blonde hair, blue eyes, and fair skin. Christ is preeminent, and He is not white. This does not demonize whiteness, but it should adjust our perspective and cause us to question anything that suggests to us that whiteness is superior.
Do we believe that we are all one in Christ? (Galatians 3:28) Do we believe that Christ's sacrifice on the cross has not only broken the dividing wall of hostility between us and God, but also the dividing wall of hostility between every nation and tribe and people and tongue, all of whom will be represented for eternity in heaven as the bride of Christ, worshiping at the throne forever? (Ephesians 2:14, Revelation 7:9)
Is not our Jesus the one who saw and respected and listened to and valued and loved a disreputable Samaritan woman? (John 4) When we recall this, two things should happen in our hearts. First, we should be prompted to see the people around us who might be different from us, our Samaritans, with the same value that Christ saw in the Samaritan woman. And after we grasp that, we need to take one giant step back and stop relating to this story as if we are Jesus and the Samaritan woman is our neighbor, colleague, or friend from another culture. Jesus is Jesus and we are the Samaritan woman. We are the outsiders that were granted grace. We are the disreputable that were headed to eternal destruction. We are the totally depraved who have been adopted as sons and daughters. When we see ourselves in the Samaritan woman, we can no longer justify our supremacy.
In recognizing our position as recipients of grace unmeasured, let us assume a posture of humility as we look to those around us. Instead of allowing a white-washed Hollywood to inform our theories about our neighbors, may we look to Christ. When encountered with lies about our neighbors, may we respond with gospel truth that confirms and celebrate the image of God in our neighbors.
4. Use the momentum from this movie to ask hard questions, give honest answers, and push forward. Eventually, another movie is going to come out that captures the attention of the media and Black Panther will fade from the headlines. But as this movie becomes a historical moment rooted in February of 2018, continue to forge ahead and question your privilege.
In what other parts of your life does your whiteness give you an advantage, an excuse, a safety net? What other pieces of privilege can you recognize? How has the systemic racism in our society benefited you?
But I'm not racist, Hannah. I'm not racist. You're mistaking me for someone else; I am not racist.
I know. I'm not accusing you of being racist. I'm accusing us of living in a system that is inherently racist, benefiting from this system, and not doing anything about it. (And, actually... that might make us racist.)
I am not naive enough to believe that Black Panther can single handedly dismantle white supremacy and strip white privilege in America. The damage is to great for a box office hit to repair, but let's not miss this opportunity take a swing at these oppressive structures and continue to disable them, piece by piece.
Sunday, February 11, 2018
How a thermal fuse and Corrie ten Boom are teaching me to value the voices of women
"It is the thermal fuse," Phil explained to me as he handed me a small part that he had replaced. Phil is the very knowledgeable and helpful home appliance service technician who came to my home not long ago to examine my broken dryer.
Phil pointed out to me that my dryer vent slowly narrows as it nears the wall and carefully explained that this could have caused the thermal fuse malfunction. He expressed concern that this could cause the new fuse break soon.
"If he has had to replace the thermal fuse before within the past year, I'd get this ventilation replaced," Phil concluded.
Huh?
If he has had to replace the thermal fuse before within the past year, I'd get this ventilation replaced.
I don't remember what Phil said next. I think I might have nodded and signed the paper that he slid my way. But I was stuck on that one word.
He?
Who is he? Where is he? What's his name? Is there a man hiding in my house that I don't know about? If so, what does he have to do with my dryer? Or perhaps Phil has the habit of personifying home appliances and assigning genders to them, and thus the word he actually refers to the dryer itself? Because, really, who else could Phil possibly be talking about? I live by myself, I called the company to request a technician by myself, I opened the door when Phil arrived by myself, I showed Phil the dryer and explained that my clothes were still wet after each cycle by myself, and I paid for the service by myself. There was no he involved.
After Phil left, I sat down. I couldn't shrug off that one little word. It stayed with me as I asked myself why I felt so irked. It was just one little two letter word, right? No big deal.
But I knew why it irked me.
Phil said, "If he has had to replace the thermal fuse before within the past year, I'd get this ventilation replaced," but that is not what I heard. What I heard went something like this:"There must be a guy somewhere who helps make decisions for this little lady. It is highly unlikely and would be borderline absurd to believe that she is actually surviving on her own. Whoever this guy is, she should probably talk to him about whether or not he has had to deal with this before."
Why did he assume that there must be a man involved in this situation? Why was it unreasonable for me to be the person in charge? Was he assuming that I must have a man taking care of regular wear and tear of my household appliances? Apparently being a woman makes me incapable of handling my dryer? Would it have really been that difficult for him to say you instead?
Why did that word flow out of his mouth so naturally? What is in him that made that comment instinctive?
I spent a few days pondering this from time to time, mildly annoyed and not without pride as I concluded that Phil has much to learn about women.
But shortly thereafter, my mild annoyance and pride melted into something closer to humility, perhaps mixed with some remorse and embarrassment. My palm nearing my face, I realized that Phil and I are actually in the same boat.
You see, while reading a book, I became aware that Corrie ten Boom is a woman.
I put the book down and picked up my phone. Google can settle this, I figured. And it did. Google confirmed to me, without a doubt, that Corrie ten Boom is a woman.
Corrie ten Boom lived on this earth from 1892 to 1983. I know her name. I have heard her quoted in sermons. I have seen her name under the quotes on the screens. But I thought she was a man. Not that I have spent any amount of time contemplating Corrie ten Boom's gender... I never had to contemplate it. It was obvious, I thought. Corrie had to be a man.
I know a few people with a name pronounced the same as Corrie ten Boom. I know Kori, she's a woman. And Corey, he's a man. And I always assumed Corrie was a man, not because of the spelling of the name, but because of the context in which I heard it. I didn't know anything about Corrie except that I have heard pastors cite Corrie's profound and deeply theological words in sermons.
My face now fully buried in my palms, I became aware of a blind spot that I didn't know I had. Being a woman myself, I never before considered that my own view of women could be skewed. Why has theological wisdom and the ability to be quoted in a sermon automatically indicated maleness to me? Is there anything in the Bible that suggests that ability to clearly express theological truth is assigned by gender? What lies have I internalized that make me assume that any profound expression of knowledge of God must come from a man? In what ways does my view of women fall short of Christ's model of honoring, hearing, trusting, and celebrating women? Do I hold a man's testimony of truth to be more valid than that of a woman? Why do I do this?
The incident with Phil is one of very few extremely minor incidents that have happened to me, so please don't interpret this post as a woman blowing a small incident out of proportion and using it as an excuse to point an accusatory finger at all men everywhere for imposing oppressive systems upon us females. Rather, this is me recognizing some ingrained misogyny in my own heart and challenging myself and the church to do more to make female voices heard, respected, and valued. I have been both a product of and a participant in a broken system that has silenced women's voices and oppressed women around the world - a participant because I myself have not seen women as Christ sees women nor sought to educate myself about women and hear the stories that are not being told, and a product because the last 28 years of sermons given by men containing references to countless respected men of faith (and the occasional Corrie ten Boom quote) has indirectly taught me to value a man's words over those of a woman.
I do not believe that the lack of references to women of faith is always due to the pastor's belief that women are inferior. I imagine that finding the voices of women of faith takes a bit more digging than finding a man's voice as women have long been left out of important conversations inside and outside of the church. As the church, let us magnify these female voices that we do have, work to uncover the voices that have been lost, and invite more voices to share more stories so that future generations won't have such a hard time finding female voices to learn from.
My blind spot is not gone. It's still there. But I'm grateful that I know it's there. I suppose that is progress. Being aware of a blind spot at least allows me to begin to ask more questions and slowly uncover what I have been unable to see. How do I plan on doing that? One way I have begun is by reading books written by or about women of the faith. Because one way to oppose lies about the inability or inferiority of women is by learning from and about women whose lives defy the lies. So I have started with Corrie ten Boom. After that comes Fannie Lou Hamer. And after that, well, women who look like me and women who don't, women from various countries and cultures and traditions, all whose lives expose the lies that many of us have come to believe. Send your recommendations my way. I want to hear the voices of women, because all of their voices have been muffled, some more than others. While men's voices have drowned out those of women, white women's voices have drowned out the voices of women of color. But I want to hear what these voices have to say.
A note about Corrie ten Boom: Corrie ten Boom became the first female watchmaker in the Netherlands in 1922. After that, Corrie and her family helped approximately 800 Jewish people escape the Nazi Holocaust. Motivated by Christ's work on their behalf, she and her family created a secret room in their home to hide up to 6 people at a time. As a leader in the Dutch resistance movement, Corrie oversaw the network of safe houses across the country. She and her entire family were arrested in 1944 and she spent almost a year in a concentration camp before being released. During her time in the concentration camp, she and her sister held worship services with the other female prisoners. After the war, she set up a rehabilitation center for concentration camp survivors and wrote multiple books.
* * *
A note to Phil: Thank you for fixing my dryer. I suppose I made a lot of assumptions about you in this post. It possible that in using the pronoun he, you could have possibly been referring to the unknown and therefore unnamed and conceivably male home appliance service technician who would have been the last person to work on my dyer. If that is the case, Phil, I misunderstood you and I am sorry.
Phil pointed out to me that my dryer vent slowly narrows as it nears the wall and carefully explained that this could have caused the thermal fuse malfunction. He expressed concern that this could cause the new fuse break soon.
"If he has had to replace the thermal fuse before within the past year, I'd get this ventilation replaced," Phil concluded.
Huh?
If he has had to replace the thermal fuse before within the past year, I'd get this ventilation replaced.
I don't remember what Phil said next. I think I might have nodded and signed the paper that he slid my way. But I was stuck on that one word.
He?
Who is he? Where is he? What's his name? Is there a man hiding in my house that I don't know about? If so, what does he have to do with my dryer? Or perhaps Phil has the habit of personifying home appliances and assigning genders to them, and thus the word he actually refers to the dryer itself? Because, really, who else could Phil possibly be talking about? I live by myself, I called the company to request a technician by myself, I opened the door when Phil arrived by myself, I showed Phil the dryer and explained that my clothes were still wet after each cycle by myself, and I paid for the service by myself. There was no he involved.
After Phil left, I sat down. I couldn't shrug off that one little word. It stayed with me as I asked myself why I felt so irked. It was just one little two letter word, right? No big deal.
But I knew why it irked me.
Phil said, "If he has had to replace the thermal fuse before within the past year, I'd get this ventilation replaced," but that is not what I heard. What I heard went something like this:"There must be a guy somewhere who helps make decisions for this little lady. It is highly unlikely and would be borderline absurd to believe that she is actually surviving on her own. Whoever this guy is, she should probably talk to him about whether or not he has had to deal with this before."
Why did he assume that there must be a man involved in this situation? Why was it unreasonable for me to be the person in charge? Was he assuming that I must have a man taking care of regular wear and tear of my household appliances? Apparently being a woman makes me incapable of handling my dryer? Would it have really been that difficult for him to say you instead?
Why did that word flow out of his mouth so naturally? What is in him that made that comment instinctive?
I spent a few days pondering this from time to time, mildly annoyed and not without pride as I concluded that Phil has much to learn about women.
But shortly thereafter, my mild annoyance and pride melted into something closer to humility, perhaps mixed with some remorse and embarrassment. My palm nearing my face, I realized that Phil and I are actually in the same boat.
You see, while reading a book, I became aware that Corrie ten Boom is a woman.
I put the book down and picked up my phone. Google can settle this, I figured. And it did. Google confirmed to me, without a doubt, that Corrie ten Boom is a woman.
Corrie ten Boom lived on this earth from 1892 to 1983. I know her name. I have heard her quoted in sermons. I have seen her name under the quotes on the screens. But I thought she was a man. Not that I have spent any amount of time contemplating Corrie ten Boom's gender... I never had to contemplate it. It was obvious, I thought. Corrie had to be a man.
I know a few people with a name pronounced the same as Corrie ten Boom. I know Kori, she's a woman. And Corey, he's a man. And I always assumed Corrie was a man, not because of the spelling of the name, but because of the context in which I heard it. I didn't know anything about Corrie except that I have heard pastors cite Corrie's profound and deeply theological words in sermons.
My face now fully buried in my palms, I became aware of a blind spot that I didn't know I had. Being a woman myself, I never before considered that my own view of women could be skewed. Why has theological wisdom and the ability to be quoted in a sermon automatically indicated maleness to me? Is there anything in the Bible that suggests that ability to clearly express theological truth is assigned by gender? What lies have I internalized that make me assume that any profound expression of knowledge of God must come from a man? In what ways does my view of women fall short of Christ's model of honoring, hearing, trusting, and celebrating women? Do I hold a man's testimony of truth to be more valid than that of a woman? Why do I do this?
The incident with Phil is one of very few extremely minor incidents that have happened to me, so please don't interpret this post as a woman blowing a small incident out of proportion and using it as an excuse to point an accusatory finger at all men everywhere for imposing oppressive systems upon us females. Rather, this is me recognizing some ingrained misogyny in my own heart and challenging myself and the church to do more to make female voices heard, respected, and valued. I have been both a product of and a participant in a broken system that has silenced women's voices and oppressed women around the world - a participant because I myself have not seen women as Christ sees women nor sought to educate myself about women and hear the stories that are not being told, and a product because the last 28 years of sermons given by men containing references to countless respected men of faith (and the occasional Corrie ten Boom quote) has indirectly taught me to value a man's words over those of a woman.
I do not believe that the lack of references to women of faith is always due to the pastor's belief that women are inferior. I imagine that finding the voices of women of faith takes a bit more digging than finding a man's voice as women have long been left out of important conversations inside and outside of the church. As the church, let us magnify these female voices that we do have, work to uncover the voices that have been lost, and invite more voices to share more stories so that future generations won't have such a hard time finding female voices to learn from.
My blind spot is not gone. It's still there. But I'm grateful that I know it's there. I suppose that is progress. Being aware of a blind spot at least allows me to begin to ask more questions and slowly uncover what I have been unable to see. How do I plan on doing that? One way I have begun is by reading books written by or about women of the faith. Because one way to oppose lies about the inability or inferiority of women is by learning from and about women whose lives defy the lies. So I have started with Corrie ten Boom. After that comes Fannie Lou Hamer. And after that, well, women who look like me and women who don't, women from various countries and cultures and traditions, all whose lives expose the lies that many of us have come to believe. Send your recommendations my way. I want to hear the voices of women, because all of their voices have been muffled, some more than others. While men's voices have drowned out those of women, white women's voices have drowned out the voices of women of color. But I want to hear what these voices have to say.
* * *
A note about Corrie ten Boom: Corrie ten Boom became the first female watchmaker in the Netherlands in 1922. After that, Corrie and her family helped approximately 800 Jewish people escape the Nazi Holocaust. Motivated by Christ's work on their behalf, she and her family created a secret room in their home to hide up to 6 people at a time. As a leader in the Dutch resistance movement, Corrie oversaw the network of safe houses across the country. She and her entire family were arrested in 1944 and she spent almost a year in a concentration camp before being released. During her time in the concentration camp, she and her sister held worship services with the other female prisoners. After the war, she set up a rehabilitation center for concentration camp survivors and wrote multiple books.
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| This is Corrie ten Boom. |
* * *
A note to Phil: Thank you for fixing my dryer. I suppose I made a lot of assumptions about you in this post. It possible that in using the pronoun he, you could have possibly been referring to the unknown and therefore unnamed and conceivably male home appliance service technician who would have been the last person to work on my dyer. If that is the case, Phil, I misunderstood you and I am sorry.
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