Hello, I’m Alice Connor.
I’m an Episcopal priest
working for the ELCA because of our agreement to be in full communion. I work
as a campus missioner at UC with college students at the Edge campus ministry
house. We drink really good coffee and argue theology. I meet students for
lunch because it’s always good to have food and drink around so you have
something to do with your hands. I talk with folks about theology and spiritual
practice. I make art with students for the Edge House and for the campus. And I
hang out with lovely folks like you. It’s really the coolest job ever.
I have been married to my
husband for over 13 years and we have two ridiculously adorable children: Abby
who’s four and Jackson who’s 7 months. Seriously, at the break just try to stop
me from showing you pictures.
We love dark, ambiguous TV
shows like Battlestar Galactica and Arrested Development. We also love
Barbecue and once drove 1700 miles round trip to Kansas City to go to Arthur
Bryant’s.
I am a great lover of
scripture—which means that I both delight in it and fight it. The stories
present in our Bible are messy and challenging and beautiful and I relish the
opportunity to converse with y’all about them.
Here’s what I have in mind
for our time together. Each of the three addresses tomorrow will consist of: first,
a two-minute sitting meditation; second, 12-15 minute storytelling about one or
more women from the Bible; third, a 10-minute sitting meditation to consider
the story and listen for what God might be telling us; and fourth, a time for
questions and discussion. Does this sound acceptable?
For tonight, I’d like to chat
a bit about women in scripture first, followed by a more general conversation
about our own experiences, then spend a little time in silent meditation.
One summer a few years ago, I
was chaplain at our diocesan summer camp for the week of Outdoor Adventure
Camp. We set up tents in the woods, made our own food, chopped our own wood,
did educational and spiritual exercises based on the natural world and God’s
fingerprints on it. This year particular was special because I was enormously
pregnant with my daughter. I was staying just over the hill in the retreat
center—air-conditioned and mattressed comfort. One afternoon, I was sitting by
the campfire watching campers and counselors chopping wood. It’s hard work,
chopping wood. Even watching it made me tired. And I observed to the counselor
nearby that in the American pioneer days, pregnant women had to chop the wood,
start the fires, cook the food, wash the clothes, fight off scavengers, care for
the other children, and much more and I could barely stand up to get a cookie
from the storage bins. Those pioneer women were fierce. And probably exhausted.
We decided to form the Women’s Pioneer League—the only requirement for
membership was a deep awe for the women who’d gone before us and all they’d
accomplished, pregnant or not.
Women are all over our
scriptures—not a controversial statement, really. But so many of our stories
are, for lack of a better term, less than those of our brothers. Their stories
are about conquest and seeing God face-to-face and “let my people go” and
“Mortal, can these bones live?” Our stories are predominantly about childbirth
or the lack thereof or about rape or about something other than us. Or at least
they seem to be.
Friends, I don’t know where
you are on the spectrum of feminism. In the conversations around feminism we
have in the church, in the workplace, in our families, we talk about equality
and a woman’s place and no matter where you fall on the spectrum, these
conversations are all about power: who has it, who doesn’t have it, what it’s
used for. These are good questions to ask, don’t get me wrong. But as
Christians we are called to something different. The God we worship, the God
made human, seems to be all about the powerless. And so often in our
scripture God calls us not to success but to faithfulness. God calls us not to
power but to presence.
Tamar had married three
brothers in succession and each died. Her father-in-law was horrified and
refused to marry her to another brother, sent her away in disgrace. So she
dressed up like a prostitute and put herself in his path. He didn’t recognize
her, slept with her, gave her his staff as his promise that he’d pay her a goat
later, then was enraged when his daughter-in-law came up pregnant. When she
presented him his staff as proof of the baby’s paternity, he said “this woman
is more righteous than I.”
Tamar’s story is about going
after justice in whatever way you have at your disposal and about calling the
ones in power to account. Tamar’s story is about being present to her own life.
Ruth had married and then
buried a foreigner, an Israelite, and had nothing left. She followed her
mother-in-law back to Israel where they again had nothing. She met, wooed, and
was married by a wealthy man named Boaz and bore him a son who would be King
David’s granddaddy.
Ruth’s story is about God
choosing outsiders to be part of the divine family and about love crossing
human-made boundaries. Ruth’s story is about being present to how God is
working in less-than-ideal situations.
Mary the mother of Jesus was
meek and mild. And young. And maybe a little freaked-out by the annunciation
and pregnancy. Or maybe not. She was not sent away by Joseph as an adulterer
but birthed her baby Jesus in a dirty cow stable. And he grew up to be a good
Jewish boy, studied Torah, healed the sick, and died for the sins of the world.
Her story is about him. But she also sang a song about the mighty being brought
low and the poor raised up. She sang the Magnificat which is a great example of
prophetic literature.
Mary the mother of Jesus’
story is about bearing the Word of God to the world no matter how hard it might
be. Mary’s story is about being present to how God is working in each of us.
In a number of places in the
Hebrew Scriptures, righteous men are said to pull down the symbols of pagan
worship including the “Asherah’s”. Asherah was an ancient Near Eastern goddess
of fertility and home. And many scholars write that in a very early form of
Judaism, she was Yahweh’s wife.
The Asherah’s story is about
being on the same footing as men and having that footing taken away. Maybe the
Asherah’s story is about absence rather than presence.
Eve, for goodness sake, was
created as an equal partner to Adam in both creation narratives and has an
extensive theological discussion with the serpent. Eve’s story is about
disobedience and growing up. Eve’s story is about being present to our
mistakes.
What happened to these
stories? What happened to these women with their stories of neglect or
celebration, anger or mercy? What, for that matter, has happened to the stories
of our mothers and grandmothers and greatgrandmothers? My great aunts—there
were 6 of them, though I only met 2—lived in a house that used to be a
speakeasy. For years after they moved in, men would come to the backdoor asking
for bathtub liquor. They worked during World War II in a factory that made
sanitary napkins. And that’s all I know about them. There are stories there.
There are stories here in this room, because we are all part of the story that
God is telling.
I want to invite us now to
take [_____] minutes to share some stories with one another. Let’s break into
groups and each person share the oldest story about a woman in your family you
can remember, even if it’s only a few words.
[break for storytelling]
What was that like? What did
you notice?
Before we break for the
night, I want to introduce the concept of sitting meditation. How many of you
have done sitting meditation before?
[explain about not clearing mind, candle focus, breath
focus, word focus, uncrossing body, being present in this room]
[practice for three minutes]
Sisters, I look forward to being
with you tomorrow. Enjoy your evening.