ecclesia

 ἐκκλησία.

Gendered religion is as old as language. It's a projection of God made in our image, not the other way around. Hierarchy is human. A twisted byproduct of our initial command to bring order, we fixate on the KJV idea of dominion. Look at Genesis 1:26 in a different light:

"Then God said, 'Let us make humankind in our image, after our likeness, so they may rule over the fish of the sea and the birds of the air, over the cattle and over all the earth, and over all that move on the earth." (NET Bible (netbible.org))

I learned that man was made in God's image, and woman made in man's image. This extra-scriptural interpretation asserts unwritten oppression. This teaching continues to survive in the mainstream Church because it allows leaders (men, exclusively) to be the chosen gender, the firstborn of Creation. (Nevermind that title is already taken by Jesus Christ, Himself gendered as male.) In my subconscious Bible memory, this Genesis account is connected to Paul's directions to the out-of-hand church family in Corinth, too.

"For if a woman will not cover her head, she should cut off her hair. But if it is disgraceful for a woman to have her hair cut off or her head shaved, she should cover her head. For a man should not have his head covered, since he is the image and glory of God. But the woman is the glory of the man. For man did not come from woman, but woman from man. Neither was man created for the sake of woman, but woman for man. For this reason a woman should have a symbol of authority on her head, because of the angels. In any case, in the Lord woman is not independent of man, nor is man independent of woman. For just as woman came from man, so man comes through woman. But all things come from God." -(I Cor 11: 6-12 NET bible.)

Regardless of your personal opinions about the Apostle Paul, this passage is directed to a specific congregation. I am a member of the Church, not the first-century church in Corinth. In this way, I'm comfortable with mystery and confusion about some of the specifics. (Ex: "because of the angels" is a phrase that scholars can't even agree on!) This discourse section is over-applied and used to oppress worshippers in our modern time, when the passage itself was an encouragement to worship in the first place! Paul is explaining how neither gender is independent, neither is superior. God is superior! Women don't worship men, they worship God.

Speaking of Church, the title of this post is the Latin transliteration of the Greek work that evolved into "Church." It means a calling out. A group or gathering called out of their comfort. Called out of their homes. It's a feminine word in an ancient language.

The Apostle Paul extends the metaphor of the feminine Church with my favorite expose in Galatians 5. The Church is Christ's Bride throughout Scripture, culminating with the beautiful wedding described in Revelations 21. I continue praying for revival within the Church, to value those oppressed instead of contributing to the oppression. James wrote that "Pure and undefiled religion before God the father is this: to care for widows and the orphans in their adversity, and to keep oneself unstained by the world." (James 1:27-NET bible). Since her rocky beginning, the Church has needed reminders that the vulnerable should find solace among those called out. The Church is a mother with welcoming arms, the literal hands of Christ. When we attempt to masculinize the Church, we lose the tenderness God intended. When we weaponize the Church, we lose the very mission she was given.

The narrative begins with the birth story of Genesis 1:2 (read this article by Admiel Kosman for more) to the birth story of Luke 2,  concluding with the birth story of Zion in Revelation 22. I'm not sure we talk about birth enough in many church events. Most men I know are more like Nicodemus in their understanding of birth and rebirth, wondering if it's possible to climb back into your mother (see John 3). Rebirth of the Gospel is even more unlikely! That's what makes the Gospel so beautiful, at least in my perspective. 

I guess my point is that God is bigger than any gender you can assign. I was created female, and I'm grateful for my identity. I love my husband and my son, both created male. But our gender identities don't cause God to be male or female. Our Church is women and men and children choosing to live a called out life with Jesus Christ. Ecclesia has been controversial since her conception.

Hope is alive

Say it louder. Say it again, until you believe. Hope is alive.

https://commonhymnal.com/songs/mothers-and-shepherds

As morning dawns on each of these darkest northern days, I choose to hope. I cling to the ancient promises I will never understand. Hope is alive.

Born into genocide, the infant Savior embodies hope. Rescue. Strength. The glory that only the poor in spirit are able to see. The Light that defies darkness. The Love that silences fear.

So many mothers grieved when Jesus was born. Like Rachel, I weep. Death still stings, this side of the Cross. Death is real and powerful,

BUT HOPE IS ALIVE.

Praise God. Hallelujah. Glory! Hope is alive.

  

Glimmer

 Our little family has been driving through neighborhoods most evenings to look at the sparkling, glimmering lights. Some homes have nativity scenes next to inflatable cartoon characters. Some have elaborate projections. Our Little Love doesn't care what the lights are, but announces "Lights" even for the smallest strand in a window or over a porch awning.

In the dark days of a dark year, I'm grateful for the glimmers. I'm grateful for the families able to plug in lights. It's like a proclamation against the night. We know Dawn is coming, no matter how cold it seems right now.

And it is dark and cold and lonely this week, as we continue social distancing from family and friends. Each day of Advent is a day closer to the due date promised in the Spring. The day we could have met our little Glimmer.

I was nervous about Advent this year. Nervous that a month of preparing to celebrate the birth of our Lord and Savior would be too full of painful reminders. I worried about sitting in a crowd of 2020 babies crying and cooing at church, with my own babies only held in my memories.

Yet, here we are. Church is smaller these days. We meet with four friends each Sunday, but our congregation has become the literal neighborhood, as my heart has always dreamed. We traveled around the city last Saturday, delivering Christmas ornaments and cards to people who have been dear to us in the journey this year. It was good to see faces, hear stories, or catch up afterwards. My mama soul was overwhelmed by the sheer number of babies born into our Church family. My grieving heart joins with multiple friends who are losing parents slowly, some newly gone. That's the power of Church, I think: Rejoice with those who rejoice! Mourn with those who mourn!

I called our Baby #3 Glimmer, thinking that hope would hold us through the pandemic. The story in December is not how I would have written it, ever. Hope, though, came through. The darkest moments continue preparing our hearts for Glory. Morning is coming. Love will win.

Our Advent traditions continue this year, reading the calendar I made last year standing midstream the darkness of grief. We're in Week 3: Redemption. Tonight, we read the story of God redeeming Israel as they walked through the parted Red Sea. I feel like Israel often: taken from terrible comfort and rescued into wilderness. I feel like Israel tonight: feet on dry ground with walls of the Sea to the left and the right. I pray that I can sing like Moses, sing like Miriam:

"The LORD is my strength and my defense, he has become my salvation.

He is my God, and I will praise Him,

My father's God and I will exalt Him." Exodus 15:2

I thought I would be 39 weeks pregnant today. Instead, I've suffered through three losses this year. I've stared the demon of suicide in the eyes and cried out for help. I'm learning the value of life, all life. I'm learning how to love those who look different, live differently and love differently than I do. I'm the rich young ruler, asking "And who is my neighbor?"

Losing our Baby Whisper taught me about grief and joy. Losing our Baby Glimmer taught me about hope. Losing our other two babies, so soon, so close, continues to be confusing and difficult. I'm learning that life and light are intertwined in the expression of Jesus. I'm learning the complexity of God's strength. I'm learning that hope is worth fighting for. I'm learning that Truth prevails.

May you find more than a glimmer of hope this Christmas.