I’ve been reconnecting with old friends recently. People from our CLB and friends I’ve had for years but fell out of communication with. I spent two hours on the phone with one last night. I’ve known her since LightGirl was 6 months old. Until recently, our children grew up together. Now, hers are in public school and mine are homeschooled. So it’s a little more difficult. We’ve been through all sorts of hard times together, like when she almost died because of a tumor, but a miracle pregnancy saved her life. I’m one of the few adults who really know her oldest daughter. GoldenSmiles is not smiling these days. She’s having a tough time with adolesence. She’s experimenting with drugs and run away. I tried to drop a few words of grace into the situation, hoping that MerryLaughs will give her daughter some space. The last three or four years have been very hard on their family and GoldenSmiles has always stood in the gap emotionally … I think she’s just worn out.

Another friend reconnected with me recently. She had some old quilting things that she no longer needed and was giving them to the guild. We had a lovely chat. Her oldest daughter left home for college in the fall. Her son (who was the oldest) died when he was 12 of complications from cystic fibrosis … so he would be 20 now. Having her daughter go to college is an enormous victory for her. She was able to let go gradually and gracefully and their family, while never the same, is healthy. I was so very happy for her. But she kept saying that her daughter was, “… one of the Godliest young women I know.” This was something that made her happy and proud, so I nodded and smiled. There was a time when I thought I knew what that meant, but now I’m not so sure.

Then, I read this article (ht to Will Samson) about fathers and daughters so concerned with the daughters “purity” that they attended a Purity Ball. Maybe this is some of what my friend was talking about. I know that in other conversations I’ve recently had with old friends about this and that, I’ve realized how prevalent is the notion that husbands are in charge. We have friends who’s daughter is LightGirl’s age and I have no doubt that she and her father will attend a Purity Ball.

I have mixed feelings about this. I understand the notion behind it. The idea that fathers have a great deal more impact on the health and well being of their children than has been previously understood. I also understand the notion that there is a desire for the daughters to enter marriage as healthy and whole young women. I just can’t shake the idea that this route in some way further objectifies women and turns them into life-size beautiful Cabbage Patch dolls. If women are responsible adults, who are responsible for their behavior in other areas of their life, then they must also be responsible for this. The only path to responsibility lies in embracing who they are and how they came to be this way. Denial and giving the responsibility to someone else is no replacement for knowing and owning yourself and standing before God with the only covering that anyone needs: the mantle provided by Jesus.

Hmmm … a new theme seems to be popping up in my life. Perhaps a new path to be investigated.

It began with a group discussion via e-mail attempting to deconstruct the gender of God. Or should I say the gender by which we refer to God? You never know what we might discuss at at the Unauthorized Theology Pub, but this was a lively discussion. I have to ask forgiveness for my attempts to stir the pot (as it were). The written discussion there lead to a live discussion during church today between me and my good friend, iPete.

He recommended a book, The Alphabet Versus The Goddess, by Leonard Shlain. According to iPete, the describes a time when women were revered. It was in the time before we had the written word. The alphabet and linear thinking lead to the prominence of men and masculine dominence. Sounds interesting. We did agree that a world in which women were in control is every bit as broken as one where men dominate. That a world in which women get to call all the shots doesn’t make sense either. An eye for an eye just makes the whole world blind (no I didn’t write that, but I can’t remember who did).

We came to a place where we began to think about things like the passage in Genesis which has always been mysterious to me, Genesis 1:26-27:

26 Then God said, “Let us make man in our image, in our likeness, and let them rule over the fish of the sea and the birds of the air, over the livestock, over all the earth, and over all the creatures that move along the ground.”

27 So God created man in his own image,
in the image of God he created him;
male and female he created them.

In every other place in the Bible, God refers to Himself as “I” … as singular. But here it’s a definite plural and it doesn’t seem to be the royal “we.” What is interesting here is that a plurality of Gods (perhaps the Trinity?) created male and female humans. God created these genders from something and S/He created the gender differences based upon something. Perhaps? Perhaps based upon gender differences within the godhead? Is the God the father masculine, God the Word become flesh androgenous, and God the spirit feminine? Some things to ponder …

On another blog I’ve recently begun to follow, Emerging Women, they are having a book discussion about Dance of Dissident Daughter by Sue Monk Kidd. The moderator posted several questions for people to consider as well as several quotes from the book. This quote in particular caught my eye:

“To my surprise I’d learned that in ancient times the snake was not maligned or seen as evil but rather symbolized female wisdom, power, and regeneration.” (p 71)

I remembered back to a book I read about 20 years ago. I think it was called The Crone or something like that. I was flirting on the edges of witchcraft and Nativism. I don’t remember many details about the book except that the main theory was that in northern Europe before the advent of Christianity, women were valued members of the community. Young women, middle aged women and particularly old women (or crones) all had specific roles to fill within their villages/communities. Crones in particular were the keepers of wisdom and were revered for their knowledge of herbs and medicine. The author’s thesis was that the advent of Christianity completely changed all of this and reversed the order. Her idea was that the witch hunts of the Middle Ages were primarily a tool used by the priests and bishops of the Church to root out the challenge to their authority that the women represented.

I really am beginning to wonder if we can get to a place where men and women are in actuality equal. If we can understand the Trinity in those terms as well. Then that might be the place that begins to set things right again. Can we get there?

As I began constructing this post in my head, the following lyrics sprang to mind:

sung to BINGO:

“My friend Johnny has a blog

And Smulo is his name-o

S M U LO

S M U LO

S M U LO

And Smulo is his name-o”

I hope from the bottom of my pea-pickin’ little heart that he will forgive me that travesty. 😉

He does have a blog and a fine one it is … fine enough that I read it and comment on it regularly. John has the singular pleasure of having served in ministry for more than several years in Australia and is now in California. So he is fortunate that his perspective on the church has some broader horizons than many of us. One of the very best things about his blog is that he focusses on nurturing conversations with and among the commenters on his posts. He manages on his blog to engage in community in a manner that I’ve yet to experience anywhere else in the blog-o-sphere.

He has a recent post entitled Emerging Liberals? and in it he asks questions about the labels “emerging” and “Emergent.” They are good questions. I began answering them in the comments. Some of my answers opened old wounds from my CLB. Strange that.I realized as I attempted to answer some of his questions that I am not comfortable wearing the “emerging” hat. While it is the tent of Christianity to which I most closely belong these days, I do not exactly feel as though I belong there. With the exception of age, I fit all the distinctives. But … really … I want to be an evangelical. I liked that. To be sure there is plenty wrong with the evangelical arm of Christ’s body (I’d make a list, but that would be uncharitable), but there is a lot that is right about it too. It’s where I grew up. It’s like saying that I’m no longer a “Naylor” because I’m married.

There are certain distinctives about being an evangelical Christian that are important to me. I’d like to still live in that tent. But for the most part, they won’t have me there. I’m too different from the rest of the crew. And I refuse to equate conformity with unity. So I’ve been doing some thinking the last couple of days about why I don’t fit anymore. Why don’t I just suck it up and go back if it’s so dang important to me?

Well, there are a couple of reasons. The first is this that I can’t be who I am and be in an evangelical church. Well, I haven’t found an evangelical church in my area where this is so. It may be that the crush of southern suburbia has created a church culture which is not healthy.

The second is almost more important. It is that the evangelical church, the Religious Right, and conservatives in general, have (over the past decade or so) more and more been defining themselves not by what they stand for, but by what they are against. And what they are against has narrowed their world into ever more restrictive borders. When I talk to Christians anymore I don’t hear what they are for, I hear about what they are taking a stand against. What they are defending against. It’s all in the negative. There’s nothing positive about that.

Well, the last time I checked the gospel was supposed to bring “Good News.” So when are we going to talk about what we’re FOR. When will the evangelical church talk about the good news they are bringing the world? It’s time to stand and have something worth fighting FOR. Let’s smile and bring in the Light … the Light that came to us 2000 years ago. Merry Christmas.

Lately I’ve seen some sights around town that made me look twice and think thrice. Since I just got back from my long drive (to East Overshoe to our CSA farm) and I need to wind down, here are a few of them.

The other day I was driving past a church. The sign out front advertised a family movie night on Friday and an open house on Sunday. “Huh?” I thought, “And here I thought everyday was open house for a church! What was I thinking??!!” Today I drove past it and they are advertising “World Communion” for this Sunday.

I saw a young guy walking down the street. I know I’m firmly implanted in my middle years. But I’m used to seeing all sorts of clothing and not being phased by it. I don’t remember specifics, I just remember remarking to Sizzling Ewe that perhaps this particular young man ought to cease purchasing his fashion sense at Montgomery Ward, since they’ve gone out of business.

I found it remarkable today that the two vehicles that were the most aggravating to drive behind were SUVs with dealer tags. They were aggravating because the drivers were having issues handling them. They didn’t even want to go the speed limit and braked at every turn. It was annoying.

There’s a church I pass on the way to East Overshoe called Believers Baptist Church. For some reason this name makes me laugh. It also makes me want to stop and ask the pastor what sort of believers they are looking for. There is something about that name that is officious and pompous. It sounds like hiked-up pants and slick hair.

I love the drive going out to East Overshoe. It gets progressively less congested and more beautiful. I hate the drive coming home. It’s everything in reverse and I’m driving into rush hour traffic. Bleh….

We made butter in the Osgiliath Classical School Potions class the other day. That’s chemistry for all you who might be wondering. We were investigating the different states of matter. It gave me renewed appreciation for my colonial mothers. We made butter with just one cup of cream and we had a cold storage unit handy. If it didn’t work, so what? But my colonial mothers had to do this and much more every day … every, every, EVERY day. Or their families went hungry and cold. We have so much convenience in our lives we don’t even know what to do with it. We don’t even recognize most of it.

LightBoy’s current ambition is be Mr. Spock from the original Star Trek. This morning he brought me his sister’s eyeliner and asked me to draw Spock eyebrows on him. I complied, but it’s been very unsettling to look at him today. He has, essentially, two sets of eyebrows on his sweet round face and one set makes him look sinister. Of course, he thinks this is very wonderful. We are now in the market for a Mr. Spock costume for Halloween. Oh … yay. Then LightGirl decided she would like to be Lt. Uhura (with the very short dress). I said, “No. You will not be Lt. Uhura (with the very short dress).”

Back in March, you may remember that LightGirl entered a contest called Fashion Revue with a pair of pants she had sewn. She won a blue ribbon for her efforts. At that time, I fought a full scale battle to get her to wear a little eye shadow, mascara and blush for the contest as she had to model her outfit for some judges. It was just to make her look well put together. Finished, as it were. Now (less than 6 months later) she wears full makeup every day. I finally asked her one morning if we should expect this from now on. She said we should. The other morning tho, I had to object. I think that when eyeliner can be measured with a ruler in eighth inch increments, it has been applied too liberally. She has backed off a little since then.

We began walking again this morning. I should say huffing and puffing. It wasn’t pretty. It was interesting to see all the gardens on the far side of the season. Then I felt sad. I realized how much I’ve missed by not walking through the summer. I could have seen all the comings and goings of the flowers and other crops, but I was lazy and I missed it. I did part of the loop alone. I couldn’t have done that last winter because I was so scared. And I left the house without any wallet or identification … another huge step for me. I am much stronger now.

Well … those are some snapshots of life in the LightHouse and more frightening still, into my mind recently. I’ll try to keep these posts to a minimum.

Our trip to the Smithsonian and the Lewis & Clark exhibit was most interesting. Most of my exposure to Thomas Jefferson has been in his role as writer of the Declaration of Independence and participant in the Continental Congress. I’ve always admired the man but have not spent much time studying his role as our third president.

I’ve known for quite some time that the Lewis & Clark expedition was a federally funded exploration of the western half of the continent. I was unaware of how much it was the brainchild of Thomas Jefferson. How invested in it he was. He drove it forward and got the funding from Congress, even when Lewis & Clark blew through their anticipated budget by several hundred times.

Meriweather Lewis was the first on board with the project and he engaged in some subterfuge to bring George Clark in. It was engaging to read the early 19th century double-speak as they spun the project up and moved their base of operations out to St. Louis. Thomas Jefferson had not yet completed, nor even begun, the Louisiana Purchase. Once they passed out of modern day Ohio, they were on foreign soil; a foreign concept to us today.

They spent the winter of 1803 to 1804 in St. Louis hiring men and purchasing supplies for the expedition. Once word arrived that St. Louis was now an American city, planning began in earnest. They set out on the Missouri River in the spring of 1804 and late fall of 1804 found them in the territory of the Mandan Sioux Native Americans.

Early engagements with the Mandan Sioux did not go well. Lewis & Clark did not understand Native American gifting ritual. The Sioux took offense to their lack of response and to what was considered their ill-mannered response. I’m not clear from the exhibit about what turned the tide, but there was a key moment when Lewis & Clark were able to understand what was expected of them in the situation and began to act accordingly.

It was then that I read something that dropped a veil of sadness over me and I can’t quite shake it. At some point in the negotiations, Lewis & Clark became aware that the Sioux responded positively to the terms “Great Father” and “children.” This surprised them, but they were not averse to using them, especially because, as was the fashion of the times, they considered themselves more advanced and aculturated than the Sioux. To the Americans those terms meant very little, if anything. On the other hand, the Sioux and neighboring tribes had developed a highly sophisticated system of tribal adoption as one method of avoiding eternal war with their neighbors. To them, the terms “Great Father” and “children” were code or euphemisms which bespoke great meaning within that system of tribal adoption. Those terms meant something to the Sioux. They carried a weight of assumed responsibilities and rights. So the Sioux entered into agreements with the government based on assumptions about tribal adoption rituals that our government was unaware of (most likely).

It reminded me, once again, that when languages are translated from one mother tongue to another, even simple terms can be misunderstood. The consequences can be grave and long term. We are all still feeling the repercussions of those first negiotiations today.

LightBoy and I took a drive today. It was our turn to drive out to East Overshoe and pick up the organic vegetables that we get each week. Earlier in the summer we joined a CSA farm with the Sheep family and the Corner family. We take turns driving out to East Overshoe to pick up vegetables for each other. It’s a long drive, but enjoyable. There are goats and chickens to visit at the farm and a dog named Blue.

LightBoy and I had an interesting conversation on the trip out.

He began, “I wish I had a cloning machine.” To which I replied, “Oh? You do? What do you see as the benefits of cloning?”

“Well, I want to create a clone army who will obey my commands without question. Then I can send them out to fight …” and he proceeded to fight an imaginary battle in the back seat.

“Hmmm …” I asked, “Do you obey commands without question?”

“Oh, no I don’t”

“Well, then why do you think all your clones would obey your commands without question?”

“Ummm, Jango Fett created a clone army and all of them obeyed his commands without question. If he could do it, I think I could too.”

“Did Jango Fett obey commands without question?”

“Oh yes. But, well, he didn’t answer to anyone. Except for Darth Sidious. But he obeyed those commands.”

“So Jango Fett obeyed commands. And all his clones did. But if you clone yourself, you’ll have a bunch of little yous running around. Do you think they’ll really obey you without question?”

“Oh yes … they’ll just look like me, but their brains won’t be like mine.”

“But if they look like you, they’ll have the same brains that you have. And that means they won’t obey you without question. It’ll be kind of like chaos.”

[long pause]

“Mom, you are so smart. How do you think like that?”

So, tonight, I’m just basking in the glory of my oh so briefly held intelligence. It’ll be here today and gone tomorrow. But for the time being (and probably not too much longer), my boy thinks I’m smart!