A cavewoman stands, knees bent, plump baby boy in the crook of her left arm
Clothed in the brown furs of wolves she herself slaughtered Long brown hair hanging down across dirt-smudged face, onto baby Right hand clenched around torch afire There it is just across the way the big ugly Staring from the outskirts of camp the dangerous terrible Set to devour, it hungrily eyes the baby Cavewoman grips that baby close to her milk-wet breasts Bares her teeth the fangs of the sabertooth Braces her stance muscles throb and flex It advances flinches toward the one it wants Guttoral groans emerge from the back of her throat She jabs her flaming stick at it A primeval shriek of terror leaps out of her at it “He is mine. Get back!” She fights back ferociously with fire heart beating wildly as she repeatedly burns it dead The big ugly the dangerous terrible lies still She trembles and sits, baby boy safe in the crook of her left arm Milk-wet breast out she suckles him Both are calm
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Yes, I have a great body. It’s true. I know it. I must declare that it’s wonderful to have such a body as mine. How do you know this? What audacity you have to say this! Surely, you are a vain and arrogant woman! Oh, no, this is not the case, not at all, so don’t be offended. I simply state the facts. Here is how I know my body is beautiful to behold:
· Wait til you see my right knee! It’s a beautiful one, for sure. Notice the bland gray mark about ¾ of an inch in diameter. Isn’t it fabulous?! I know you wish you had one too. This mark is a one of a kind, though, and truly attests to my wonderful body. It is evidence of my body’s ability to jump back up and not be pushed around by boys who want to steal things from me. You thought you could take that soccer ball from me, Mark, by pushing me down on the track and tattooing my knee with tarmac. Oh, but you were wrong! You didn’t know I had such a great body—one that would get back up and take back what you stole. · And get a load of my midsection! Look out, girls, when I strut my stuff on the beach in my bikini! All heads will turn in admiration, no doubt about that. They’ll walk up to me and want to touch my soft, wrinkly tummy and declare what a wonder it is! You know, it’s like a balloon (the regular kind, not the crinkly, metalic-colored ones) that was filled with helium, but after about a week when it deflates, you are left with a very soft, wrinkly piece of material that is wonderful to stroke. Yes, my belly is just like this! Try not to be too jealous, and go ahead and touch it—I’ll indulge you just this once. Maybe someday, after you’ve carried four small ones in your womb, one at a time, one at a time, then two at a time, your midsection can be as accomplished as mine. For now, you’ll just have to admire it, and accept yet this one more piece of evidence that my body is truly great. · We must move on now to my breasts. Oh, yes, we cannot talk about how great my body is without mentioning these humanitarian girls—always putting others’ needs first and maintaining a desirable image while serving the masses. They’ve been small and budding, huge and round, like porn star boobs only filled with milk. The nipples have been faithful to me, knowing, like true geniuses, when to remain slightly numbed so all the licking, sucking, and biting wouldn’t bother me too much when my babies needed nourishment; and knowing when to tingle with pleasure at my lover, so all the licking, sucking, and biting would send delight surging through my beautiful body. Absolutely, I submit my breasts to you as another piece of evidence that my body is great indeed. · I cannot forget to mention my hands. I have two of them—no small thing since not everyone does—and they are stunning! Many have said I could be a hand model, and I cannot argue with them. It’s true: my hands are fabulous. I’m sure they have skills that not many of you can claim. In one swift motion one hand can clear mucous and crud from a child’s eye, nose, and ear, and dispose of it discreetly, while the other can pin a child on his back, wipe away his putrid feces, wrap it up in a diaper and toss it in the nearest trash bin. Truly remarkable, I know. My hands can gesticulate beautifully whether in anger, spiritual passion, lecture, or humor to get my desired point across. My hands can plunge into a mirky pond faster than anyone else’s to bring up a prized slimy frog to the delight of old and young onlookers alike. Oh, they can do much more, I assure you of that. For now, this is enough evidence that my hands contribute to my fabulous physique. By now, I’m sure you are ready to concur that my body is great, but finally, I must cite one more example of my body’s true grandeur. Are you ready? I’ll give you some clues—that way we’ll make it a fun guessing game for this last one. I’ve got in excess of 100 of them. Are they hairs?, you say. Ah, no good guess, for my hair is wonderful, I know that for sure. But, no, this is not it yet. Another clue: No two of them are the same. Hmm, perhaps you mean your wrinkles? Oh, another great guess! Indeed I know my wrinkles are impressive and tell endless stories of laughter, worry, fun in the sun, and super birthday parties, but, no, again, you are wrong. Okay, one more clue. This should do it for you: You can play a connect-the-dots game with them. Your moles, your moles!, you cry. And, of course, you are finally right! My moles, no question, show forth my body’s beauty. They tell you who I am, and a person must know who she is if she is to claim greatness of any kind. I am Stella’s great-granddaughter, that’s for sure, a pale, white-skinned Germanic woman bespeckled to woo the best of them. I have not yet attained her moley greatness, for her back was a mosaic of skin tags. I have moles like hers, though, just not quite so many yet. At least I know my body will only increase in greatness in this particular area as I age. Here, let me roll up my sleeve and show you just a few of these beauties, for their diversity is truly stunning. You’ll note small, dark flat ones. Don’t overlook the nearly transparent ones—you can tell they are there because they are raised and feel like a bump when you run your hand over them. And then there’s the medium brown ones, also slightly raised, with a baggy quality—they’ve got some movement and give to them. Occasionally, this variety reaches another level of splendor when it sprouts a hair. Oh, yes, then it is truly magnificent. I only have a couple of these, but I’m sure when I’m as old as Stella was, I can boast many more. I’m quite confident that my body, too, will attain the great level hers did by the time I’m 80. So, as you can clearly see from the evidence I’ve cited before you today, my body is a wonderland. John Mayer thinks so, and now you, too, know why. Primogeniture & the 5 Landed Women of the Conquest (Joshua 17:3-6)
by Valerie Geer (10-5-2014) Primogeniture is the right, by law or custom, of the firstborn male child to be the recipient of the family’s inheritance, particularly land. Throughout history, many nations and groups of people, including Israel, have operated by this principle. Not only was primogeniture the normative custom in the Ancient Near East (ANE), but it was prescribed in Mosaic law. Also called the “birthright,” this law provided that a double-portion of the father’s estate be given to the firstborn son; the other sons got an inheritance, too, but the firstborn’s was double. A daughter did not receive a portion because her “place” in the family was impermanent, i.e. she would belong to her husband and his family. An important pause is now in order. I must say something about the significance of the Promise Land for Israel as a nation, particularly as it relates to the custom of primogeniture. I’ll try to be brief and simple: When God chose Abraham and made a covenant with him, part of the deal was the land he and his descendants would get. Abraham was called from his homeland (Ur of the Chaldeans) to go to a land that the LORD would give him, i.e. the Promise Land. The purpose of this calling of Abraham and the formation of a nation was so that God would bless His people (nation of Israel) so that they, in turn, could bless all the nations of the earth (Genesis 12:1-3). (This ultimately would be fulfilled in the Messiah coming from / through the nation of Israel for the purpose of the salvation and redemption of all humanity.) The land was an integral part of this promise to Abraham, and they physical location of the nation of Israel. During the conquest, when the land allotments were given, they were given to the 12 tribes. Primogeniture served the function of keeping the land allotments within the 12 tribes of Israel. Even though this was the culture and practice in the ANE and in Israel, it is interesting to note how many times the LORD did the opposite of this law. In fact, the very first time we read about “birthright,” it is in the story of Jacob and Esau (Genesis 27). Remember, it was Jacob, the younger brother, who got the birthright / double portion, not Esau the firstborn. In 1 Chronicles 5:1-2 we read how the firstborn’s, Reuben’s, rights were given to Joseph and his sons, and, although “Judah was the strongest of his brothers and a ruler came from him, the rights of the firstborn belonged to Joseph.” In 1 Samuel 16 we read about God’s choosing of David, the youngest of Jesse’s sons, to be king over Israel. Perhaps the quintessential point of all this reversal of the law / breaking of the established order is best expressed like this: “The LORD does not look at the things man looks at. Man looks at the outward appearance, but the LORD looks at the heart” (I Samuel 16:7). I will argue that one of the key reasons God breaks / reverses this law (and many others in the OT, by the way) is because He is intimating a time when the law, a system unable to save anyone, will be fulfilled in Christ, and the ultimate ethics of the kingdom of God, which could not be reached through the law, would be revealed through the birth, life, ministry, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ and the establishment of the His catholic church. These ultimate ethics, i.e. shalom or the way things are supposed to be, will finally be reached / made manifest in the eschatological fulfillment of the Kingdom of God. (By the way, this line of thinking is often referred to as redemptive movement hermeneutic. For further reading, I recommend William Webb’s book Slaves, Women, and Homosexuals: Exploring the Hermeneutics of Cultural Analysis.) This brings us to the five landed women of the conquest: Mahlah, Noah, Hoglah, Milcah, and Tizrah. As Joshua leads the people in the conquest of the Promise Land, various tribes receive their lots of land. This is according to the word that the LORD spoke to Moses. The land was their inheritance from the LORD, what He promised he would give the patriarch Abraham. The nation that the LORD would make for Himself, the people He would draw unto Himself to bless and be a blessing…they would receive this through their occupation of the land. The land is a big deal, a huge deal, in the identity of Israel. We must know this if we are to give the women of Joshua 17:3-4 their place of significance in Scripture. In these verses, and the ones surrounding them, we learn that it is Manasseh’s turn to receive his lot. Manasseh was the firstborn of Joseph, and Machir his firstborn received Gilead and Bashan. There was also a lot given to all the other male children of Manasseh (17:2). However, one of the sons of Gilead (Manasseh’s great grandson), Zelophehad, the son of Hepher, the son of Gilead, the son of Machir, the son of Manasseh…did not have any sons. Instead, he had five daughters. After the lots were distributed to all of the male offspring, these daughters made their move. Apparently they had not been given any lots as the offspring of Zelophehad, precisely because they were not male. Together they approached Eleazar the priest, Joshua, and the rulers of Israel and reminded them that the LORD commanded Moses to give them an inheritance. (Genesis 17:4) They were right. They spoke truth. They spoke the Word of the LORD to the leading men, even the priest, because the men had not been diligent to act on this truth. They had courage. They knew the truth. They did not let their cultural norms and the limitations of their gender keep them from claiming the promise that the LORD Himself made to them and their father’s house. Because their assertion was the command of the LORD through Moses, all of the leaders of Israel who heard it, heeded them. They gave these five females land. Land. In a patriarchal system, in a nation of people to whom land was prime, these women were landed. This was from the very beginning of the conquest and settlement of the land in the time of Joshua. From the beginning of the history of the people of God in the promise land, God made it a point that women inherited the promise too. In a time when women were not landed citizens of a nation…soooo far from it….Mahlah, Noah, Hoglah, Milcah, and Tirzah were exactly that. In fact, Scripture notes that because these daughters of Manasseh received an inheritance among the sons, ten shares, besides Gilead and Bashan, fell to the tribe of Manasseh. These women widened the territory and place of their people. So much more could be said about primogeniture and firstborn status, its significance in Israel and its overall Messianic overtones. Since I’m blogging and not writing a book or scholarly article at this time, let me just skip to the really good part: Jesus the Christ (Messiah), as the one and only Son of God, i.e. the ultimate firstborn, completely fulfills the law, including primogeniture (read Colossian 1-2). Furthermore, His inheritance as sole heir of God has been accorded to any and all who believe, without regard to nationality, gender, socioeconomic status, or any other external characteristic (Galatians 3:26-4:7). People who put their faith in Christ are co-heirs (Romans 8:15-17) with Him. We are beloved children of God, full inheritors of the promise of God. Therefore, enough with the church-sanctioned patriarchy within evangelical Christianity! Not only is it uncalled for; it is unbiblical. Why is this particular part of the law adhered to so readily? We do not insist on circumcision, maintaining Jewish food laws, observing a literal Sabbath, etc., so we do not need to insist that males are special in God’s kingdom (church leadership, the Christian family, etc.) simply because they are males. Males, firstborn or otherwise, do not occupy special positions within the family of faith. Christ, alone, occupies and fulfills the special position of firstborn / only Son of God. He has so lavished us with His loving grace that He gave to all of us the same inheritance rights as co-heirs, beloved children of God. Is this not evidenced by the outpouring of the Spirit on all people on the Day of Pentecost as prophesied by the prophet Joel? Do we not affirm the doctrine of the priesthood of all believers? Inclusion in the family of God, the presence and grace (gifting) of the Holy Spirit, and the call to exercise these gifts for the edification of the Body and the furtherance of His kingdom is for everyone. I repeat: Enough with the perpetuation of patriarchy in Christianity. Her breasts were quite lovely, actually, the fleshy tops of them overflowing out of her strapless dress like rising dough out of a too-small bowl. She scooched herself sideways, back to the stage, face pointed down at her shuffling feet, past several of her classmates already settled into the theater-like seats of the chapel as she edged into the fifth seat in the row. As a staff person and adjunct professor at an institute of Christian higher education, I know I should have been frowning at this spectacle, thinking how distracting her bronzed summer breasts were to all the college boys in the chapel that day. I know I should have been strategizing a dress code intervention with the appropriate female student life staffer. I know I should have been passing judgment on her lack of maturity and ill-formed Christian character.
But I simply admired her breasts. They were quite lovely, actually. I gave thanks to God for the body she inhabits. After all, she seemed comfortable in her body and her outfit. She was simply sporting a fashionable and reasonable summer dress, perfectly appropriate for an 80-degree early September day. I was relieved that it didn’t occur to her to perceive her body as a threat to the "sacred space of the chapel." This produced an unexpected level of joy and peace within my own soul, and I worshipped all the more because of it. I looked around at the wide variety of people present, dressed in a myriad of ways. We all have bodies with varying levels of similarity and difference. I accept that. I marvel at that. I rejoice in that. And if I see a little bit of that body in chapel, I’m okay with that. And, I suppose, it’s really doesn’t matter whether or not I’m okay with that; they are there, regardless of my opinion. There were many bodies in chapel that day, male and female, with different parts that people could see, some parts covered with clothes, some parts naked, some parts tatted, some parts smooth, some parts lily while, some parts earthy coffee brown. And they were all quite lovely, actually. Some, however, would have us believe that these bodies of ours, especially the female ones, should be carefully covered in chapel because they are fundamentally distracting to others, especially males, who, as everyone knows, are so visual they can’t help but lust after the specks and chunks of lovely female bosoms, bottoms, legs, and lips. (Sigh.) A few months ago I was walking in my neighborhood for exercise. As I came around a curve and looked up, there jogging on the opposite side of the road, coming my direction was a man. Not just any man, an attractive, downright smoking hot, shirtless, mid-to-late twenty-something man with chiseled muscles gleaming with sweat. In the split second that I saw him, I wanted to feast my eyes upon him and mop up his sweaty, muscled chest with my own body. (Apparently, I, a female, am visual, too, and am perfectly capable of, if not prone to, objectification—go figure.) I wanted to call out playfully to him, “Yes, please.” BUT I DID NOT. Because in the split second after I saw him, I made a choice to avert my eyes and change my thinking. I reminded myself that he is a human being, someone’s son, someone’s brother. This decision did not stem from the fact that I am a married woman who is delighted in her own husband and wants to honor her marriage, although those things are true about me. Whether I am married or single is irrelevant to his worth as a human being, as someone who is worthy of me treating him decently. And so I walked on, honoring his personhood with my choice to think of him and treat him as the human being that he is. Just because he is half-naked, beautiful to behold, and jogging out in public does not mean that he has asked for or should expect inhumane treatment. We cannot control what other people look like. We cannot control what they wear. We cannot control how much of their sensual parts they choose to put on display. What we can control is what we think on when we see them, what we say or don’t say to them, and what we believe about them, particularly what we believe they deserve. Humans are human are humans are humans. Let's treat them as such. Let's go down
Across town Three doors down There's a girl in there A slave stuck in there I think it might get a little bit cold in there But if we scream And if we shout We just might blow the door down Let's go down Across town Three doors down There's a girl in there A slave stuck in there I think it might get a little bit cold in there Bring your gay lover for all I care The one you meet in the rest stop*** When you think no one's there The more the merrier is what I'm saying Cuz the louder we'll scream And the harder we'll blow Call yourself an egalitarian or a complementarian Take the elements as a symbol or as mystical Bring the ladies with the head coverings or the ones with microphones Whatever, let's go, cuz we're gonna scream And we're gonna blow Across town...three doors down ***Please note that the reference to meeting a gay lover in a rest stop is not written to present this as normative, assumed behavior for homosexuals. Rather, it is a specific jab at the hypocrisy of certain, allegedly heterosexual, married Evangelical Christian leaders whose actions have made headlines in recent years. I am making an argumentation for the cessation and the illegalization of the dehumanization and the objectification of people from every nation This is a call to end the pornography the sodomy the polygamy the flesh economy and the general malady infecting the mentality of this present anthropology Let me pontificate and expectorate to legitimate and declare sacrosanct the Imago Dei predicate within every mate who habitates upon this divine protectorate "My ministry has a policy that I do not dine alone with a woman, even in very public settings."6/30/2014 "Thank you for hosting me for lunch after chapel. I think your suggestion for others to join us for lunch is very good. My ministry has a policy that I do not dine alone with a woman even in very public settings (i.e. university cafeteria). Perhaps {male Professor so-and-so} could join us or some other male staff member or students."
This is a real excerpt from an email I received about 7 months ago. I journaled my response at that time. Below you will read that response, plus a poem follow-up that I recently wrote about it. Perhaps this speaker is so awesome and famous that secret Christian paparazzi stalk him and try to take his picture sitting across a cafeteria table from a female. That would really make the news, wouldn't it? I'm sure people would note the napkin dispensers, cafeteria plates, and crowds of university students around, and say, wow, that speaker is clearly an immoral man. If he's not careful, people might think he's going to have sex with this female right there on top of the cafeteria table in plain sight of the hundred or so people present. Yeah, he's right, I had better arrange a male to join me. Yeah, because if a male is sitting right next to us, as opposed to several seats or a table away, then we'll probably have enough accountability present not to jump each other's bones. Yeah, because male Christian leaders/speakers never get tempted by other men, so there is no need for a policy about not dining in a cafeteria "alone" (which actually isn't even possible) with another man. Yeah, there's definitely no need for that because no one would ever think him capable of homoerotic thoughts or actions. Men--they can be trusted. The female, of course, cannot be trusted. By nature she must be a temptress, capable of working her sexual magic across the cafeteria tables to the undoing of the man. And the man, of course, must be completely unable to control himself, a weakling unable to resist her powerfully sexual signals being sent through the barrier of the napkin dispenser. The above paragraph marks the publishable end of my original reaction to this offensive email. Below is the poem format response I wrote just a couple weeks ago. Enjoy. Am I Acceptable Now? "My ministry has a policy that I do not dine alone with a woman, even in very public settings." What if I'm 215 poounds instead of 115... Am I acceptable now? What if both my breasts are gone from a double mastectomy... Am I acceptable now? What if my vagina is nearly sewn shut and my clitoris is cut off... Am I acceptable now? What if I am covered with a black cloth from head to toe so you cannot see my shape nor my skin... Am I acceptable now? What if my face is burned from acid so I appear grotesque to you... Am I acceptable now? I am 5 feet 7 inches tall, blonde-haired, blue-eyed, dimpled, 115 pounds, and don a pair of 30 DDs. I am not dangerous. I am not a temptress. I am acceptable. I am safe. Get a hold of yourself, man, and have a professional lunch with me in a very public place. To the man in the slate grey Chevrolet…
You saw me looking good Walking my mutt dog in the neighborhood I was looking irresistible Swinging my grocery bag of his fecal material Swish, swish, side to side the bag went, just like my fly hips and thighs You adjusted your side mirror Leaned back to see me a bit clearer Nodded your head up and down, down and up As if to say, “Damn, girl, what’s up?” “What’s up? You talking me...” He, In the slate grey Chevrolet While I was walking my mutt dog in the neighborhood Looking irresistible Swinging my grocery bag of his fecal material Was it me or the aforementioned material That you found so irresistible? Slowing down with your window down Getting wound, wound up, up in your truck So I decided to huck Huck that grocery bag of his fecal material Into your vehicle With you up, up so high like a stick to the sky So that my bag scored a ringer on your erect thinger That’s how I roll Walking my mutt dog in the neighborhood Looking good Hucking that bag of his fecal material Straight in to your degrading vehicle Pregnancy, Breastfeeding, & the Holy EucharistYou lived on my blood
What I ate, you ate These breasts fed you…all of you I have nourished a clan with my own flesh and blood So when you tell me that it is difficult to understand a first-century male Jewish rabbi I sigh…patronized We women know what it means to have someone eat our flesh and drink our blood, for you to be part of us, for your very life to depend on us |
Valerie GeerWriter. Women's activist. Theologian. Providing authentic reflections from a female perspective. Archives
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