A Product of My Time

There is an issue which has been distinctly troubling me for some time, and that is the whole debate over the roles of women in the church. I had laid this topic to rest some time ago, and now it's rearing its head again, and I find it's been taking up my thoughts. I've been doing a great deal of reading in the last few months (no surprise there) on Biblical topics (perhaps a little more surprising), and this one comes up more than you might think. Several writers for whom I have great respect are firm in their belief that women must not teach groups in which there are men, and may not be in leadership roles. I know the passages that this comes from, of course, but I also know that I still struggle with it! I suspect it has something to do with my being female...

Let me be clear--I have no taste for leadership myself, which is just as well because I'm not convinced anybody would follow me. I'm happy in my current roles and don't wish to change them. However, I am a teacher. Not to the large assembly in our church (which is very large indeed) but to other women and periodically to our small group, which contains both men and women. And I think that I'm not half bad at it. But I'd done so much reading on the subject that I was actually kind of unnerved--and certainly unfocused--this last week when I was leading the discussion, and fairly flubbed it. So you can tell this bothers me, and this may end up being a record-length post as a result. Sorry.

Things that make me think I should NOT be teaching: Paul said it, quite clearly, twice. There really isn't any other way to read those words except that women are to keep their traps shut in church. End of story. And no, I don't think that Paul was a misogynist, not at all, but his opinion on this is unmistakable. It's so easy to say that he was just a product of his time, and this is a cultural thing, and therefore we can ignore it. Up to a point, I do think that's true! On the other hand, it does open up a real slick path down some other slippery slopes. If you go with that, how do you draw the line and say this thing was just cultural but that thing is not? How do we know for a certainty which things were Paul's first century opinions and which things are actually from God? I'm not always comfortable making that distinction, especially over something which has such implications for what I personally do--I could be biased!

Things that make me think it's okay for me to be teaching: This list is, predictably, somewhat longer. For one, I do agree with Catherine Booth (of Salvation Army fame) that God gives gifts--even to women--to be used. I have been in leadership before, and been teaching for some time, and always get put in these positions because there is a need, and I'm able to fill it. I can see making a strong case for meeting the needs that arise if I have the skills and am asked to do so. So I have. And our small groups would suffer greatly if the women's voices were not heard. We have a fair amount of wisdom among the ladies, and I personally think God put it there.

From the cultural standpoint, Paul's prohibition in I Corinthians comes in the same letter as instructions about head coverings, or lack thereof. I don't think you could argue that those are not cultural issues, and largely passed by in non-muslim societies at this time. I have memories of seeing the Catholic neighbors wearing little tiny doilies on their heads as they went off to mass, and I somehow think that it's not exactly what Paul had in mind. It's not clear that anyone really knows what he meant with the comment about it being because of the angels, but I understand that women wore veils as a mark of their status of being married, showing their submission to one man in that relationship, and that makes sense. I guess my wedding ring serves the same function today perhaps. I do understand that the bulk of that portion of his letter to the Corinthians had to do with chaos in worship, but these days the chaos can come just as readily from the men!

And I just can't ignore Deborah. No matter how I vacillate in either direction, I keep coming back to Deborah, one of the judges of Israel. She won't be ignored! Deborah was a leader, even militarily, and was appointed by God for the task. We don't know what His justification for that outrageous appointment was, because He didn't say, but apparently Deb was the "best man for the job". There's also Aquila and his wife Priscilla pulling Apollos aside to teach him the way more accurately. Not just Aquila. Priscilla too. Is it possible that God still appoints women as He sees fit, giving them gifts and abilities to be used even in the instruction of men? I wouldn't want to be the one to tell God that He can't, that's for sure.

So I'm still pondering. I'm not willing to say that Paul was only speaking for that time in history when it came to this issue (it is included in Scripture, after all), although he most assuredly was correct about what was needed for that time and those circumstances, but at the same time I'm not willing to limit God on what He might decide to be doing in this day and age. I worry about starting down slippery slopes, because a great many people have proceeded me and made disasters that way in many areas. So what to do? I guess I'll keep reading, keep thinking, keep praying, and likely keep teaching until/unless I'm convinced otherwise, because there is a need, and I am able and have been requested to fill it for now. But I'm still troubled, because the one desire of my heart is to not be outside what God wants for me, as a wife and mother, but also as a teacher who desperately wants to handle accurately the Word of truth.

Love, Spud.

The Cherrybomb

Is there anyone who doesn't love to wax nostalgic about their first car? I certainly do--she was a real character. The Cherrybomb (Cherry for short) was a 1963 push-button transmission Plymouth Valiant which had once been bright red but was pretty faded by the time I took possession. Cherry had a wonderfully simple slant-6 engine, and even I could deal adequately with some basics, like popping the hood and manually opening the choke when she didn't want to start. She often did not want to start.

Cherry developed a strange habit of beeping all by herself at one point, sitting alone in the driveway, so my dad disconnected the horn. Poor lonely Cherry! But she got her revenge, and succeeded in getting our attention too.

My parents' house was at the top of a hill, and the town was at the bottom. Once summer day I was coasting down the hill and when I got to the bottom I put on the brakes as I approached the upcoming intersection. Or at least I tried to. Cherry had lost her master cylinder, and my foot went straight to the floor and there was no stopping to be had. It was clear that I was going to sail right through that intersection with the red light hanging over it, and I realized that I couldn't even honk to warn people that I was coming. There was no horn any more. So I did the only thing I could think of, and turned right.

That slowed her down a little, but not enough, and after a couple more blocks I got to another intersection with a light, and so I again turned right. Cherry was going much slower at this point, but obviously was not going to stop all the way on her own, so I opened the door, jumped out, ran to the front, and stopped the car with my own body. People have fits when they hear this part, but I didn't think I was in any real danger, and apparently I was right, because Cherry came to a stop and I live to tell about it.

Dad got the master cylinder replaced, and decided that it would be a very good idea if I once again had a horn. So he installed one, but you didn't honk it by pressing on the steering wheel like you would with normal horns. Oh no, instead you pressed down on a big black button in the middle of the dashboard. It was unique, but entirely serviceable. So at the end of the summer I drove back to college, where all my friends were delighted with the big black horn button, and would honk it indiscriminately just for the fun of it. Between the horn and the push-button transmission, Cherry and I were celebrities, in our own minor way.

Cherry developed severe indigestion of the carburetor during my senior year, and I finally replaced her and let her go back to my home town with my dad before my final quarter in college. He sold her, and I have always wondered how long she lasted before she pooped out for good. But I needed something more reliable for my student teaching experience, so with great sadness I let her go. (The replacement had his own interesting personality, by the way, but that's for another day.)

It's tempting, as my daughter approaches driving, to supply her with something relatively new and safe and boring and trustworthy, but where would be the adventure in that? Nope, she needs my battered old van instead. Everybody needs to start out life with a junker. You need the character-building experiences that come with a doubtful old car, and the harrowing thrills that just compel you to prayer. Besides, how else would she collect the stories to tell her children? I couldn't possibly deprive her of that!

Love, Spud.