Girl Power, Old Testament Style

Jael and the Tent Peg

Old Testament women had no power.  Men had all the power.  Except there are a bunch of Old Testament stories about powerful women.  What's up with that?  I don't know.  On Sunday I heard one of my favorite "Girl Power" Old Testament stories.

It's about Jael.  Was she good or was she bad?  I'll let you decide.

What theological truth is this story providing?  I have no idea.

First, let me remind you that I don't condone violence.  Remember that Seinfeld episode where Elaine gets in trouble with her publisher because she wants to change the name of the book "War and Peace" to "War - What is it Good For"?  I'm with Elaine on this subject.

But back to Jael.  In the book of Judges in the Old Testament, one of the judges was Deborah (a girl -How did that happen?  We don't know.)  Deborah tells the leader of the Israelite army, Barak, that he needs to go to war with the Canaanites and, more specifically, get rid of Sisera, the leader of the Canaanite army.

But Barak is scared.  He says in Judges 4:8 If you will go with me I will go, but if you will not go with me I will not go."  (What's up with that?  I don't know.)

So Deborah agrees but tells him that he'll win the war but a woman will get the credit.  (Spoiler alert - it won't be Deborah.  It will be Jael.)

They have the big battle and all goes well however, Sisera (the Canaanite army leader) escapes.  He's wondering around then stumbles into the tent of Jael.  She welcomes him in, gives him a drink, waits until he falls asleep and then......pounds a tent peg through his head and into the ground!

That's pretty much the end of the story.  Except there is a poem about Sisera's mom waiting for him to come home from the war - but we know this won't happen because of the tent peg incident.  However, I like the poem because it reminds us that war always leaves moms waiting for a child who will never come home.


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Love and Understanding

Norman Rockwell
Do unto others as you would
have them do unto you

In the early 1970s I was on an inner city committee in Fort Lauderdale, Florida.  We were committed to do our part to deal with the huge issue of racism in South Florida.  All of the awful things you have seen or imagined happening in the south at that time were happening there.

But we knew that most people did not think of themselves as racist.  It was just the way things had always been done.  It was how God intended!  One evening our leader, a black psychologist,  suggested that we might offer some nonthreatening discussion classes to groups of while folks in South Florida.

After weeks of hammering it out, this is what was decided:

• The title would be "Racism"
• We would offer classes to white church and community groups
• We would present discussions on personal and institutional racism
• We would invite a small group of blacks to be present 
• The class would be led by a black/white team

Never, in my wildest dreams did I think I would be one of these leaders.  But I was.  Father Brown, a brilliant young black Episcopal priest, and I led this "Racism" discussion in many homes, offices and churches in South Florida.  And, as it turned out, I designed much of the content - and in doing so, I learned much about my country, my culture and myself. 

One of the first things we did, after getting everybody introduced and comfortable, was to ask the folks in the room why they thought segregation and all that involved seeing  African Americans as second class citizens was right.  

Invariably the first answer that came back was, "It's in the Bible."  

"OK, let's look it up."

The group never failed to be surprised when we tried to find the scriptures that suggested white supremacy and could not.  The Old Testament is big on the Jews being God's chosen people and therefore everybody else is questionable but the big justification for black slavery in the south was "The curse of Ham," found in Genesis 9:25-27.

And Noah said "Cursed be Canaan!  A slave of slaves, a slave to his brothers!  Blessed be God, the God of Shem, but Canaan shall be his slave.  God prosper Japheth...But Canaan shall be his slave. 

Each and every time folks were astonished that this was it.  Two verses in the Old Testament, taken out of context, that most people didn't understand and had never before even read, had keep blacks in the American south in bondage.

We're now experiencing a hotbed of other issues siting the Bible as the final authority.  If you are disturbed by what's happening, I would like to gently invite you to begin by reading the scriptures in question. And then add a layer of tradition, reason, and experience (John Wesley's Quadrilateral.)

You might find yourself loving and understanding a little more even if it doesn't change your mind.



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This is Still My Best Time

As some of you know, I love Roz Chast's memoir, Can't We Talk About Something More Pleasant?  Chast is a long time cartoonist for The New Yorker.  But she's also written several graphic novels that are dark, hard hitting and extremely funny.

In the "Can't We Talk" book she deals with her parents' aging.  Currently I can see a little bit of myself in her mother's total denial of her husband's downward trend.

My Dave has hit a rough patch, health wise.  This has included a brain bleed, brain surgery and other gory stuff.  After a second fall, he's now at the same rehab hospital he was in a couple of weeks ago.

Regular hospitals are where we go to lie still, maybe in a coma, etc. and have round the clock care to save our lives.  Really good rehab hospitals are where we go to get back to where we were before we got sick or had the accident in the first place.  It's a whole different program and it's very hard work.  If you're in your 70s or older it's really, really hard to get back to where you were before.  You have to be all in with the program.

Dave's not kicking and screaming.  He is all in, but he is out of his comfort zone.   He had five hours of rehab today, physical, occupational and cognitive .  And I left him this evening playing cribbage with his friend.  This is part of his therapy.  He actually aced his cognitive test but they still want his brain to be stimulated every day.  (By the way, this standard cognitive test is terrifying to me.  Not sure I could pass it at this point.)

Even though he just wants to sleep, Dave did well with everything except he kinda flunked his putting on his tube socks part of occupational therapy so ( in case you think I'm be too hard on him)  I bought him some shorter socks at the grocery store before coming home tonight.

In the morning I'm taking in two Architectural Record magazines.  Also nagging him about planning our next trip.  And, yes, even with everything that's happened in the last month, this is still my best time.  

P.S.  The support we've had from family and friends is overwhelming.  That's another blog posting.


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Are The Super Wealthy all a Bunch of Bozos?

One of my kids told me a story the other day that would make us think so.  We all know or read about greedy, clueless, entitled folks who never learned to say "please" and "thank you" because - why should they?   Isn't it our job to serve them?

But on the same day I heard the negative rich guys story I talked with friends who had just attended a generous giving conference.

The truth is that I'm blown away by how generous some super wealthy (and not so super wealthy) folks can be.  And it's hard work to give in a way that helps and not hurt.

Today I read an article about one of my favorite super wealthy people:  Melinda Gates.  She's written a new book, The Moment of Lift: How Empowering Women Changes the World.  In it she makes herself vulnerable by sharing some of the universal problems most women face, like sexism and abuse.

The main reason I'm enamored with Melinda Gates is because she's all about empowerment for women.  And I absolutely agree with her stance that the greatest lifesaving poverty-ending, women-empowered innovation ever created is - contraceptives.  

In her book Melinda Gates also speaks to the burden of having great wealth.  (What?)  It's true, even for the rest of us who are not uber wealthy.  Finding ways to give away money without doing more harm than good takes a tremendous amount of time, energy and caring.

So thank you all of you super wealthy folks around the world who are helping us save the planet and the living things on it.  It's called Creation Care - and it's a big job.


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Down The Rabbit Hole

A metaphor for an entry into the unknown, the disorienting or the mentally deranging, from its use in Alice's Adventures in Wonderland.  

It's been a while since I've posted.  I've missed you.  Hope you've missed me.  My excuse is that Dave and I have been on a little trip down the rabbit hole. 

It started when he was feeling dizzy and a little off.  I tried to explain to him that, hey, that's my job but it persisted so we made a trip to the ER.  After a while they determined that he'd had a watershed stroke.  This can be dealt with by having carotid artery surgery.  So we signed up and they sent us home to wait a few days until surgery could be scheduled.    

This is when things got interesting. 

Long story short, the night before Dave's scheduled surgery he fell in the hospital shower, hit his head, (among other things) and ended up having brain surgery for a subdural hematoma. Since we watch "Law and Order" I knew immediately what this was and that it wasn't good.  

Dave at lunch today.

The neurosurgeon told us he might not wake up and if he did wake up he might not be in good shape cognitively.  

This saga has been going on for three weeks or so.  Family and friends have been over the top helpful.  Dave's kids and my kids and grands (some of whom didn't even know each other) formed a village to care for us. We needed it, especially since these events have brought on a Meniere's attack for me every single day which means, among other things, I can't drive.  But, due to the kindness of friends with cars, I've spent eight hours a day, everyday, with Dave. No place else I'd rather be.

Here is the good, best, most miraculous news.  Dave has not been significantly impaired by either the stroke or the brain surgery.  He's currently in an excellent rehab hospital and making big strides every day.  

He's passed his cognitive tests with flying colors, something I'm not sure I could do at this point in time. 

But we still need prayers from those of you who pray and positive energy from those of you who don't.  Because Dave needs to get strong enough to have the vascular surgery that started us down this rabbit hole. 


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Plastics!

This is my favorite cloth bag for shopping.
It's a hand-me-down diaper bag used by
someone who shares my name but is now
a teenager so no longer needs it. 

Remember the 1967 film The Graduate with Dustin Hoffman?  This movie contains two of the one hundred top movie quotes.  The most famous one comes from Dustin's character listening to his prospective father-in-law, Mr McGuire, tell him where his future lies.

I want to say one word to you.  Just one word...Plastics!...There's a great future in plastics. 

Turns out that wasn't the case for Dustin's character's future.  But it was for ours.  We are drowning in plastic.  We've all seen beautiful sea creatures being strangled by plastic bags. And we all want to do something about those islands of plastic in our oceans.

But it's hard.

For years Dave and I have taken our cloth bags to the supermarket.  At home, we recycle in three different containers.  One for paper, and another for solid plastics.  Plus another is just for plastic bags (even though we try not to use them.)

Here's the thing.  When I buy meat or cleaning products the bagger always wraps them in plastic prior to putting them in my canvas bag.  By the way, the meat is shrink-wrapped in plastic before it goes into the plastic bag.  And sometimes the plastic bottle for cleaning products has its own handle. Why should it even need a bag?  Every place I go somebody wants to give me a plastic bag.  At least some of the vendors at the farmer's market use recycled plastic.

And how depressing is it to find scores of plastic bottles and containers on our kitchen and bathroom shelves?

The point is, we can't do this on our own.  However, help is on the way.  The state of New York is banning plastic bags.  Currently that state goes through 23 billion  bags a year.  But for this to work New Yorkers will have to be provided with healthy-for-the-planet alternatives.  This will help all of us.

It will make only a dent in our world wide plastic crisis, but it's a start.   In the meantime I'm going to try to do better.


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Gloria Bell

When the world blows up I want to come down dancing...Quote from Gloria Bell

Dave and I had a date yesterday.  First we walked in one of our favorite parks.   Then drove a few blocks to The Eden Bar, a little gem of an outside restaurant that's been here forever.   The covered part is attached to the Enzian Theater, which, as you know, is our favorite for artsy and/or Indy films.

After a late lunch we went inside to see Gloria Bell.  This is the new film staring the brilliant, understated actor, Julianne Moore.  The critics love Gloria Bell  but the public - not so much.  We both liked it but we're artsy kind of folk.

It's about an average, middle aged, long time divorced woman who is cheerful and loves to sing and loves to dance but is also on the verge of a nervous breakdown.  She meets Arnold - played by the amazing actor - John Turturro - in her favorite bar where she goes to dance.

Both of them have grown children.  Gloria's have their own issues and Arnold's are a mess.

Their romance is a quiet struggle.  I was surprised that Julianne Moore, at age 58, had a couple of nude scenes.  Pretty brave.  But the most romantic part for me was Arnold reading her a love poem.  It's indicative to me of how the whole film is done.  He reads the poem in its entirety.  It's long. I looked it up today.  You can too.  The first line is "If you were a nest I'd like to be a little bird."

The difference between the two of them is that Gloria is trying hard to make her life work.  She attends all kinds of crazy women's workshops and works hard at having a healthy relationship with her kids and her mom.

Sweet, adorable, sad Arnold, on the other hand, is the poster boy for the "When Helping is Hurting" concept with his kids. He's sweet but he is a coward.

I liked the film's ending.  Dave did not.  I loved the scene where Gloria is weilding the paint ball gun.  And I love the scene where she learns to dance alone.


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