Painting Pictures of Egypt

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There is a song I found in the last year that's called "Painting Pictures of Egypt." It's a song about the Israelites as they lived in the wilderness for 40 years longing for what had been in Egypt, while waiting for the promised land to come. There's a line in the song that says, "I've been painting pictures of Egypt, and leaving out what it lacks . . . "

Many times over the last year I've wondered what is lacking form my "pictures"of Egypt. What are the parts that I have been leaving out of my memories? I think one of the things that I have left out of my picture is the reality of being a woman (and a strong woman at that) in a male-dominated culture.

Let me explain.

Each evening before dinner the students and teachers gather in a circle in the courtyard of the seminary for evening prayer. I have observed this summer that students rarely sit next to me by choice. Friday night I came down for evening prayer and made a friendly wager with Stephen, my fellow-teacher and R.C. seminarian studying in Rome, that every chair in the circle would fill before someone sat next to me.

We watched as the students came down. One by one the chairs in the circle filled, but as I predicted, no one sat next to me. Not until prayer had begun and nearly every chair was filled did one student manage to sit next to me, but not until after he made of point of moving the chair farther away from me and closer to his friends.

I laughed as I watched this, but it also made me sad, for me, yes, but even more for them.

Here’s the reality as near as I can tell. Most students respect me very much as a teacher and as a pastor. We share a genuine love and affection for one another. Most students recognize the sincerity of my call and my desire to help them grow into their call. But this is a male-dominated culture that is, at best, horribly discriminating towards women and, at worst, misogynist. While I work very hard to show my respect and honor for the teachings and traditions of the church, I find the images of women in the church as either saint (Mary) or sinner (most everyone else) so unhelpful in this context.

Part of what I’ve been trying to figure out in recent days is why this feels so different from last year. Partly, Hans was here at the beginning of my time last year, which helped the students to understand me better and not be so afraid of me. As I have said many times in reflecting on my experience last year, Hans made me safe to the students. But even when Hans was not here last year, my friend John, acting in the role of big brother and friend, gave the students the message that I was not to be feared. And together we modeled healthy and appropriate interaction between men and women.

There are students who understand the nature of their culture and to some extent the nature of their church. But even the students who understand this feel enormous pressure from their classmates to conform to the standards of behavior so as not to raise eyebrows, or questions.

All this is not to say that I don’t still love being here. I love this place. I love the teaching I do. I love the conversations that surprise me. But I will admit that I’m infinitely more aware of my gender this year, and I’m feeling more alone this second time around.

Of course the Amy that you all know and love wants to deliver a lecture and engage in some discussion about gender issues in the culture. But I know that this would not be helpful, at least not coming from me. So instead, I teach, I pray, I walk, I talk and I hope that a new way of living together as men and women in a community of faith will be opened in time. I do believe in a God who is always bringing life from death, and this is one way of life that must die.

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Comments

[Katie]

what can be learned
A man spoke at our church this year after having been on a mission/learning trip to Africa. He and his pastor, a woman, travelled deep through uninhabited territory, finally landing themselves in a seminary in the middle of no where in which every student was required to make their own houses from the dirt so that they would have shelter during their time of learning. They helped at the seminary, but finally sat down with many of the leaders who, point blank, asked the woman how she could be ordained when it was so obviously against God's law? "It was as if she had been waiting her whole life for that question," I was told by her parishioner. She got up and boldly declared the history of women called by God through the scriptures, and then told of her own call to service. Her parishioner stated that he could see the Holy Spirit come down upon her. The men listened and began to understand the reaches of God's call. I will be in prayer for a "teaching moment" for you -- one in which you can declare the glory of God and enjoy God's presence immensely as you share your call and are invited to join the Christian "brotherhood."

[anonymous]

I admire your ability to engage so deeply with the students even across this disconnect, and your ability to not let your sadness or sense of injustice detract too much from your genuine love for the people and the culture there. I'm afraid I would just get angry and/or hurt. May your presence there be a quiet witness to a new way of life.