Cracks are Appearing

Wow, what a week this has been! 

 How could I write a blog without giving mention to the momentous event many around the world witnessed — I speak of the inauguration of America’s new vice president. 

 

The last blog I wrote was tinged with sadness and shock. The insurrection of the Capitol building was fresh in my mind. Amongst, other things I spoke of two underlying causes — white supremacy and patriarchy, 

 

Today, I write tinged with joy. Those twin towers that have blighted American history are starting to crack. The new vice president is a woman, and not only that, one of African and Asian descent. Kamala Harris radiated joy and happiness — even behind a mask one could see she never stopped smiling. I’m sure she knew that she was causing a crack in the tower of patriarchy. 

 

A year or so ago I wrote a blog which I entitled “Patriarchy is alive and well”. At least, that is what I thought. Then, I decided to check up on the actual date and realized I wrote it in April 2015. Nearly six years ago —has time really gone that fast? I still think patriarchy is alive and well — the last four years made that blatantly obvious as what must have been simmering under the surface was given voice. Yet, the outlook is not bleak. I am confident that one day patriarchy will tumble down. Sadly, probably not in my lifetime but I will see more and more cracks appearing. Last Wednesday was a big one!

 

Of course, Kamala Harris stands on the shoulders of many generations of women who have fought for equality and the right to be seen and heard. This Christmas one of the presents my son and daughter-in-law sent me was a jig saw. A circular jigsaw entitled “Votes for Women” and depicted about forty women who had been active in that struggle. To my shame, I confess some of the names were unfamiliar to me — happily the jigsaw came with an information leaflet giving their histories so I could learn.

 

My interpretation of the gospel reading today depicts one of the very first cracks in the tower of patriarchy. It is the story of a wedding (John 2: 1-11). I have blogged about this particular wedding before. I make no apologies for doing so again. 

 

At the heart of the story is a woman who was seen and heard. Well, maybe I should amend that a little as in this story the mother of Jesus remains unnamed. Even today, this is a common experience for many women. They are designated only by their role in relationship to men rather than as a person with a name.

 

But back to the wedding . . . the story doesn’t reveal who the wedding was between. There is no way to know who was getting married, but the text hints that it was a close relative of Jesus — maybe it was a sister, brother or cousin. The wedding was clearly an affluent affair with wine flowing freely and servants and stewards attending the guests. The passage suggests that the mother of Jesus was the host. She was the person to whom the servants turned when there was a problem with the wine.

 

In short, the wine at the wedding ran out. The servants approached host, the mother of Jesus, who in turn appealed to Jesus. Water was converted into wine and the steward commented that the best wine was saved until the last. 

 

As always when reading this text, what fascinates me is the conversation between Jesus and his mother. It is a significant part of the account and as such would seem to be important. When the wine ran out it was Jesus to whom his mother turned. She told him there was no wine. Jesus is recorded as saying it was no concern of his as “My hour has not yet come.” 

 

It is a strange retort. Obviously, Jesus knew that his mother was expecting a miraculous intervention but seems reluctant to reveal who he was. It seems, Jesus would be happy to remain in anonymity. 

 

Yet, it seems that his mother knew best! She knew it was time for the ministry to begin and her words and actions revealed it to Jesus. She did it quietly and calmly. She simply ignored his protestation that it was not his hour and told the servants, “Do whatever he tells you.” 

 

It is essential that the key role of Jesus’ mother is not under-estimated. I think it is important to note that this is one of the first cracks in the tower of patriarchy. This woman was given the task of knowing when it was time for Jesus to start his ministry — she spoke and was heard.

 

So today, I am thankful for all the women who have undermined patriarchy — the ones who have spoken and been heard.

 

 

 

My Mind is Whirling!

What a momentous week this has been! 

Wednesday 6 January and the ensuing days will go down in the annuls of history. Wednesday 6 January was an overwhelming day. It was a shameful day. And perhaps, most of all it was a sad day. 

 

I could not write this week’s blog without mentioning it. The Lindisfarne community embraces secular monasticism — clinging to the rhythm of spiritual practices while living and engaging in contemporary society. The events of this week cannot be ignored,

 

The gospel lectionary reading today ends with the simile of the spirit descending like a dove (Mark: 1:10). The physical image of a dove has, in tradition, long since been associated with peace. A strange coincidence or, perhaps, a sobering reminder as this falls at the end of a week where an unprecedented violent attack on government was perpetrated. 

 

I do not want to reiterate the actual happenings of the day which +Andy and I, along with millions of others, watched unfolding.  I’m sure everyone has seen multiple images as they continue to dominate the news cycle — as do conversations about the consequences of the actions of those involved. 

 

One comment I will make though, is, as I have watched and listened to the careers and lifestyles of those who have been identified as involved, I was quite shocked. It has caused me much pondering on how an ideology can be followed so that it becomes all-consuming,  even to the extent where criminal actions can be committed without any thought of the harm caused to others. 

 

As I continue to muse on the events of the week, my mind has been whirling! 

 

Words do not really do justice to my thoughts — desecrating a seat of government, causing harm, injury and death to others, insurrection, sedition, domestic terrorism. These are hurts that cling to the soul deeper than can be given voice.

 

And alongside all those hurts white supremacy and sexism have once again been highlighted. I have pondered much about this. Four years ago, I realised that permission had been granted for a voice to be given to sexism and racism. To give it voice, it must have already been there, hidden under the surface. Okay, maybe not so hidden in many cases but certainly not voiced in the public arena. 

 

I wondered about this. It feels like it is in the social DNA passed from generation to generation. I do not say that lightly. I have seen it, felt it. Often, if challenged the response would be” I’m not racist” or “I’m not sexist” even accompanied by horror that I may have thought that about someone. Yet, it is there, underlying, in the social DNA being passed to the next generation. Much consideration needs to be given to how that cycle is broken.

 

Every time it feels like a step is taken towards ridding the country of this scourge something happens that reveals the depth of it. I am saddened but not discouraged. It is only as things are revealed and consciousness is raised that change can start to happen. I want to be part of that change — to look constantly in a mirror to check my own actions and speech and to challenge myself and others when it is needed — to be a voice for those who have no voice.

 

On this day. when traditionally the symbol of peace is remembered, I hope that threatened increased violence will not ensue. That the transition to a new government will be peaceful and those dealing with the aftermath of this week will have much wisdom.