Showing posts with label Jesus. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Jesus. Show all posts

Sunday, December 17, 2023

Joyful Genealogy

I'm fairly sure no mythic god would be announced with a genealogy of the kind that appears in Matthew, Chapter 1, listing the paternal ancestry of Jesus across two thousand years. As a writer, I'm always intrigued by the narrative arc of the ancient Biblical texts. Why start an important, dramatic story with a lengthy list of begots? 

The list itself has spurred reams of historical speculation. Why is it arranged as it is? Why does Matthew's differ from Luke's? What's the evidence for either? Why are there obvious omissions in both?

I talked yesterday with a niece who has sometimes dabbled in family genealogy. I have a younger sister I've never met, and my niece was at one time in touch with that part of my disrupted family. She reminded me I also have three half-brothers I never met. We don't even know their names. They've never made it onto any family tree I've ever seen. 

But no family tree ever has every name. Every family tree has holes.

Would I put a genealogy in a story of my own? Probably not. If I did, which family lines would I include? In my father's mother's line we have links that go back to early Welch settlers along the Hudson valley sometime before the American Revolution. In other parts of the family tree, we know just a few names, back to maybe the early1900s. Names before that were lost in a sea of northern Italian Carl Capras, (my paternal granfather) or Irish Patricia Ryans (my mother). 

My husband Whitney and I have been watching The Chosen by Angel Films, a series on the life of Christ. We watch an episode each Sunday evening, with our regular Sunday evening fare of popcorn and cut-up apples and cheese. We watched through the first three seasons, then circled back to watch again. It's a fictionalized version of the Gospels, of course, but parts of it ring true, and parts raise intriguing questions. 

Matthew is one of my favorite characters. The quirky, hated tax-collector. Obsessed with detail, disliked by his fellow disciples, a meticulous note-taker. The writers of The Chosen did a great job imagining Matthew as the writer of the Gospel of Matthew.

But there's something taking place in Matthew's genealogy that leaps past any imagined 1st century reporter, no matter how fond of making lists.

As would be expected for a writer of that time and place, most of the names Matthew provided are male Many were powerful, important, known figures from Jewish history. 

There are also names that might have been known by the people of Jesus' day, but aren't recorded in any Old Testament writings: Akim, Elihud, Eleazar, Matthan. Other names seem changed or conflated or slightly out of order. Let's assume Matthew didn't have access to digital census documents, or Ancestry.com. Should anyone assume an exactly accurate listing, or is there something more important at stake?

Here are the most unexpected entries, totally wrong if Matthew's goal was to win support for an unexpected Messiah (Warning: at least 2 of these stories would be banned in any well-conceived book-banning scheme):

  • Tamar: a Canaanite widow (ie: NOT endorsed wife) who posed as a prostitute to entrap her father-in-law Judah (Genesis 38, check the backstory here)
  • Rahab: a Canaanite prostitute who lied to her own people to protect Jewish spies (Joshua 2, context here)
  • Ruth: a Moabite (another outsider), who married Boaz after a not-exactly model courtship (Ruth 3, summary here) 
  • Bathsheba: she's not named by Matthew, just "Uriah's wife", a reminder that King David was not always a paragon of virtue and was guilty of Uriah's death after the illicit conquest, or worse, of Uriah's wife Bathsheba. The conception of Solomon, Bathsheba and David's son, is not one most writers would take care to spotlight in the opener of an authorized holy narrative (2 Samuel 11; story here)
In an essay called "Genealogy and Grace," Gail Godwin ponders the list of Jesus' ancestors:
For reasons unknown to us, God may select the Judahs who sell their brothers into slavery, the Jacobs who cheat their way to first place, the Davids who steal wives and murder rivals -but also compose profound and beautiful psalms of praise....

And what about the women Matthew chooses to include? ... Every one ... had scandal or aspersion attached to her. 
What does your own family tree look like? What's your own part in that tree?

Christmas can be a hard time of introspection. We think of loved ones no longer with us. We think of family rifts, stories not told, histories we carry we don't fully understand. 

I find myself encouraged by the genealogy of Jesus. By the recognition of the women - seen and remembered - despite so many reasons to omit mention of their lives. 

I find myself rejoicing that God's story, as it unfolds across generations, has never been the exclusive domain of the powerful, the purposeful, the socially accepted, the righteous and the upright. 

There's room in it for me. For my family: past, present, future. Known and unknown. 

As Godwin concludes:
Matthew's genealogy is showing us how the story of Jesus Christ contained - and would continue to contain - the flawed and inflicted and insulted, the cunning and the weak-willed and the misunderstood." (from Evensong, Gail Godwin, 1999). 
As we think about who will gather, and not gather, around our Christmas dinner tables, let's rejoice that there's one table where all are invited, all are welcome, all are named.  

From 17th century Tree of Jesse
P. Kritikos Collection (Patmos) Wikimedia Commons





Sunday, March 2, 2014

Leaning into Lent

As part of my Lenten observation this year, I'm taking a break from writing new blog posts and updating and re-posting earlier material. Today's post was first shared on February 19, 2012.

My childhood church tradition had no interest in Ash Wednesday, or Lent, or any of the seasons of the liturgical calendar. The idea of giving up something as a spiritual practice seemed superstitious: does God care if I eat chocolate or not?

Elijah icon, 
Yet, in a dry, thirsty time of my life, I was deeply fed by my encounter with a deeper liturgical practice, and after thirty years now in the Anglican tradition, I look forward to Lent the way I look forward to an hour of quiet at the end of a long, hard day.

Lent is an ancient practice – an attempt to approximate in some way the forty wilderness years of the Israelite people, the forty days in the desert of the prophet Elijah, and the forty days of fasting and temptation of Jesus at the start of his ministry. 

The examples of Moses, Elijah and of Jesus highlight the tension between the kingdoms of this world and the kingdom of God. 

Moses and his people, newly escaped from slavery in Egypt, wandered in the desert – some wanting to go back to life under Pharoah, Moses insisting that God would provide. 

Elijah, after defying bloody King Ahab, and with Queen Jezebel on his trail, ran for his life to the desert, where he collapsed under a broom tree and begged God to take his life, then spent forty days traveling to Mount Horeb, the mountain of God. 

And Jesus himself, after forty days of fasting, was confronted with an offer of “all the kingdoms of this world and their splendor.”

Lent offers us a time to examine our own allegiances as we travel between kingdoms of earth and heaven. Small sacrifices are one way to help us focus, to shake free from what holds us. Some of my friends choose to fast one day a week, or give up Facebook, wine, dessert, coffee.

The point isn’t the small sacrifice. Rather, the sacrifice helps us set the time apart – a small, regular reminder of Christ’s sacrifice for us. 

But it’s also a reminder of our deep complicity in kingdoms we don’t understand, our hunger for the tastes of the old ways, our willingness to find comfort in material things rather than hunger and thirst for a deeper knowledge of God.

In Ephesians 4 Paul urged the church in Ephesus to “put off your old self, which is being corrupted by its deceitful desires; to be made new in the attitude of your minds; and to put on the new self, created to be like God in true righteousness and holiness.”

That work will never be done, but Lent is a time to pause, and to ask: What should I be putting off? Where have I given control to things, to habits? What have I been feeding myself? Where am I headed? 

detail from Christ in the Wilderness,
Briton Riviere, England, 1898
It’s a time to look more deeply at my own attitudes. I usually give up sugar, which also means I give up coffee. In the withdrawal from both sugar and caffeine, my underlying attitudes surface quickly: Irritation. Impatience. Discouragement. Self-protection.

Lent can sound depressing, but I don’t find that to be the case. As addictions and harmful attitudes surface, I can acknowledge them, address them, and set them aside, ready to put on something new.

It’s a bit like retooling a computer. Over time, unused files, dumb downloaded games, the backload of cached internet files slows the system down. It takes time to erase unused programs, delete files no longer needed, adjust the start menu, optimize disk storage. It takes time, but it feels good to get it done, and the system runs better freed from the weight of digital detritus.

That sounds a bit mechanical – an analogy, but not a good one.

Because Lent, while it’s a time to confront our evasions, our half-believed lies, our self-protective inner story, is even more a time to draw closer to God.

The Israelites, out in the wilderness, experienced God’s presence in manna, in cloud and pillar of fire, in the tent of meeting.

Elijah, on Mount Horeb, experienced God’s presence in a new way, and heard God’s word of encouragement and instruction. 

And we, setting aside distractions, distortions, determined to shed whatever deceives us, prepare to know God better – in the sacrifice of Good Friday, in the joy of Easter, in the countless little ways that God’s grace meets us in moments of hunger, or prayer, or waiting.

There are lots of ways to approach Lent.

Tearfund and the Church of England offer The Carbon Fast:
Consciously adopting carbon-saving behaviours is sacrificial and provides a wonderful way to engage with the Lenten concerns of temptation, denial and salvation. We are called to change the world, but cannot do so without the Spirit.
  • We believe God is the Creator of the world and that we are entrusted with its care;
  • Lent is a time for sacrifice as we prepare to celebrate life in Christ at Easter;
  • Christians love the world and want to influence it for the good.
Christ in the Wilderness, Ivan Kramskoi, 1872, Moscow

Many churches and organizations offer their own Lenten resources: daily readings, weekly videos. Mustard Seed Associates has put together an exhaustive list of ideas, resources, and other Lenten materials. 

My own Lent will be a little different this year. I'll be traveling more than usual, and busy in a strange mix of ways, so plans to give up sugar (my fall-back practice) won't work. 

An article about an eight hour daily fast from Facebook and email has encouraged me to limit computer time (aiming for two hours a day) while another article about fasting not just from, but to, has me thinking about ways to listen better, pay deeper attention, find more in less. 

In all of this, I'll be praying for a life deeper than the surfaces where we so often find ourselves living.

Looking for a way to move beyond the flood of words I often find myself washed along in.

Watching, and waiting, for something new.  
Lord, You searched me and You know,
   It is You Who know when I sit and I rise,
          You fathom my thoughts from afar.
   My path and my lair You winnow,
          and with all my ways are familiar.
   For there is no word on my tongue
          but that You, O Lord, wholly know it.
         .   .   .   .   .   .   .   .   .   .   .   .   .   .
Search me, God, and know my heart,
         probe me and know my mind.
And see if a vexing way be in me,
         and lead me on the eternal way.
   (The Book of Psalms, 139, translated by Robert Alter)
What spiritual practices will you be exploring this Lent?

What resources would you recommend to others?

Please join the conversation: just click on   __comments below and add your thoughts.  

Sunday, June 30, 2013

What Do Teenage Girls Need?

Recent conversations with friends about experiences in our teens and early adulthood reminded me of an article I wrote for Youthworker exactly a decade ago. It's appeared online in several places, (in 2007 and 2009) but it occurred to me that it would fit well with recent posts about girls and women, so I'm re-posting it here. And I find myself wondering - since I'm no longer a youth director - how can parents, grandparents, other adults find ways to give girls the things I describe? 

What do teenage girls need? Ask ten girls and you’ll get ten different answers. But a ninth grade girl recently said something that set me thinking. She was emoting about how frustrated she was that so many of her friends had stopped playing our youth group’s active games. “They just sit on the side. They feel like everyone’s watching them. They feel like the boys don’t want them to play, and they feel like they’re in the way.”

So what do they need? “They need for the female leaders to get in the game and encourage them to come play.”

Life is more complicated than that. So is youth ministry. But it’s a good place to start. Teenage girls need permission—permission to play, permission to speak, permission to set their own boundaries, feel their own feelings, stumble along the way. And if their youth leaders don’t give them that permission, too often, no one will.

Permission to Play

I was talking to some girls one evening at youth group when I noticed a group of guys starting a casual game of hackey sack. It started with two of our young male leaders kicking the sack back and forth, and soon there was a circle of boys eagerly joining the game. I noticed, too, that there were several girls watching, not
talking, just watching, as if they wanted to play. I finished my conversation and walked over to the circle. “Can I play?” The guys hurried to make room for me, while I looked over my shoulder to the girls who had been watching. “Hey, Amber. Heather. Come and play too.” “We’re not any good at it.” “Neither am I. Play anyway.”

In our active games too often girls are the spectators. Or cheerleaders. Or they play the Vanna White role—props, accessories. How can we structure the games so everyone takes part? How can we equalize abilities? Sometimes we play two games: one labeled “competitive,” one labeled “relaxed,” so there’s a place for girls who feel they can’t keep up with the bigger, stronger guys. Or we play games like Human Foosball, where everyone is anchored to a specific spot on the floor, so the bigger, faster players can’t swoop in and take the ball from those who aren’t as competitive. We encourage our guy leaders to make sure they’re passing to everyone, to set an example for the boys watching them. But most of all, we try to have a female leader in every active game, so there’s someone giving permission to play and inviting the girls to take part.

Permission to Speak

Girls also need permission to talk, which sounds a little strange considering how capable most girls are of talking. But in a group, especially a mixed group, watch the dynamic. Girls often lose confidence mid-sentence, as if they’ve suddenly forgotten what they were going to say. They start off on a point, pause, and say, “Never mind.”

Too much of this has to do with how often girls are interrupted. Repeated studies done in schools, universities, businesses, and other group settings show that females are interrupted far more often than males. It would be nice to think that male youth leaders are more sensitive to this than the average American male, but I’m not sure that’s the case. In groups with other professional youth leaders, I’ve found myself (often the only female) cut off repeatedly. It’s not hard to start thinking that I’m being interrupted because I’m female. And it’s not hard to start thinking no one wants to hear what I have to say. If I’m feeling that, how much more are the girls in our youth groups feeling the same?

When interrupted, I’ve wondered why no one jumps in to say “Hey, I want to hear the rest of what Carol had to say.” That’s a skill we try to teach our leaders. And we encourage our students to do the same: if someone’s interrupted, wait until the interrupter takes a breath, then say “Interesting point. But first I’d like to hear the rest of what Sarah was saying. It sounded really worth hearing.”
It’s easy as leaders to steam-roll along, making our own points, keeping the discussion going, without paying too much attention to the group dynamic. But it’s worth the effort to watch who says what, to give girls permission to speak, and to affirm their right to be heard, whether they’re wresting with interruptions or with their own flagging confidence. When they trail off, uninterrupted, we can still push for them to finish the thought: “What you said so far sounded really helpful. Can you say a little more about that?”

Permission to Feel

It’s easy to think “well, if girls feel left out of games, or cut off in conversation, that’s just their imagination.” Is it? Too often girls are told that what they feel is their imagination, or they’re just too sensitive. “You shouldn’t feel that way.” “There’s no reason to get upset.” The heart cry of many girls is that someone, anyone, believe they’re feeling what they’re feeling. If peers have a huge influence in the lives of teenage girls, this may be the biggest reason: at least they understand the power of each other’s emotions.

It may be that teenage girls feel more strongly than any other group alive. Hormones, huge physical changes, fear of the future, exquisitely fine-tuned social awareness, anxiety about crushing expectations, epidemic lack of sleep—all contribute to make many girls emotionally volatile and easily upset. Yet to dismiss their emotions is in many ways to dismiss them. To say “oh, that’s just your hormones” is to minimize them and the things that most concern them.

As I listen to girls, one of the saddest things I hear them say is, “my parents don’t believe how stressed/anxious/afraid/unhappy I am.” Girls whose parents say, “my daughter never tells me anything,” tell me, in tears, of attempts to share their hurts with their parents. Those parents would be amazed at the depth of anger their daughters feel when they’re told, “You don’t really feel that,” or “You’re just saying that as an excuse,” or, “Is it that time of month?”

What happens to those feelings girls are told they don’t or shouldn’t have? They go underground—to resurface in eating disorders, self-injury, deep depression, or the kind of rage that acts out in substance abuse and promiscuous sexuality. How much better to acknowledge the depths of girls’ feelings, to give room for them to be expressed, to look for appropriate ways to relieve them, and to beg parents to do the same.

Permission to Set Boundaries

Parents also need encouragement in affirming their daughters’ rights to set boundaries. Too often girls are taught to be “nice,” which means putting the needs of others above their own. Assertiveness is valued in boys, but questioned in girls, which gives both guys and girls a skewed vision of what it means to be “Christian” and leaves them at greater risk of inappropriate sexual activity.

A parent recently came to see me after a school dance. Her ninth grade daughter went with a “Christian boy,” and the boy made physical advances the daughter wasn’t interested in. The girl told him to stop, told him he was making her uncomfortable, then went to find her mom, who was checking coats. She explained what was happening and asked to be taken home, but her mother told her she couldn’t, that she would hurt the boy’s feelings, that she should be nice about it and handle it the best she could.

The mother was wondering if she’d done the right thing. No. She hadn’t. Her daughter was struggling to establish boundaries, and she was undermined by the person who should most affirm her. Fortunately, that mother apologized to her daughter and agreed to be available in the future any time her daughter needed a ride home in a similar circumstance.

But what are we doing to tell girls that they can say no, that they have the right to set boundaries, that when they don’t want to do something they can choose not to? Not just in the realm of sexuality, but in everything. What are we doing to say that being “Christian” isn’t the same thing as being “nice”? And how are we encouraging guys to set their own boundaries?

Permission to Stumble

From where I stand, it looks like there’s still a tragic double standard at work. Boys will be boys, but girls who mess up find themselves quickly labeled and easily dismissed. The church should be the place where this is least so, yet from what I see of youth groups, there is plenty of space for boys who “wander,” but little tolerance for girls who do the same. The girls themselves are perhaps the reason for this: they inhale an impossibly high standard, struggle under the anxiety that they won’t be able to meet it, then turn with scorn on girls who fail.

Adolescence is hard. The competitive, hurried pace of American life is hard. The Christian life is hard. Purity is hard. Dealing with stress without falling prey to alcohol, cigarettes, and drugs is hard. And when girls decide it’s all too hard, too often they’re judged harshly by those who should be most sympathetic.

As we introduce girls to Jesus, we should make sure they see the side of Jesus that the women of his day loved so deeply: his ability to see beyond the failures, the sin, and the brokenness. Jesus reached out to the woman at the well, to the woman caught in adultery, to the woman with an issue of blood, to women who were cut off, ostracized, untouchable. We need to help our girls see his deep love and forgiveness, and we need to model that same love and forgiveness.

The more I see the deep needs of adolescent girls, and the more I learn of Jesus, the more convinced I am that he is the model of ministry our girls most need. He included women in a way that the men around him found alarming. He listened to their deep needs, even when they were afraid to put those needs into words. He wasn’t disturbed by their deepest emotions, even when others found those emotions frivolous or shameful. He encouraged women to rethink their roles, to put obedience to him over being good hostesses or “nice” people. And he reached out to women no one else would touch. He gave women permission to be whole, complex, valued people. If only we can do the same.