Krista Mournet

In a Her.meneutics blog entry entitled “Death to the Perfect Christian Woman,” author Amy Spiegel explains why she was compelled to write her recent book Letting Go of Perfect: Women, Expectations and Authenticity; shocked at the unattainable standards Christian women set for themselves, some imposed over generations by men, others self-imposed, she sought to offer a corrective, a “message of freedom” for Christian women to hold onto. It is a noble goal, and I applaud it. I haven’t read the book…but I was struck by something Spiegel said in this blog interview.

In response to the question, “How do you practice self-care?,” Spiegel says;

It’s important to realize that we live in a society that tells us to feed ourselves for ourselves’ sake. Moms especially can fall prey to the temptation to be self-indulgent because we are working so hard caring for others all day. We have to remember that we need to take time for self-care, not because we’ve “earned” a break, but because we need to care for ourselves in order to serve others better.

Wait….wait a minute. Let’s go back and take a hard look between those lines. If we deconstruct this statement, a couple of presuppositions become clear: first, it is not okay, apparently, to “feed ourselves for ourselves’ sake.” Second, it’s not okay to reward ourselves when we feel we have “earned” it. Third, self-care is only useful for the intended purpose of caring for others better. What are these presuppositions saying about the actual value we are placing on ourselves? Don’t we matter at all? Isn’t our own joy worth something for its own sake?

I have a nearly five-year-old son. Every now and then we’ll be out in the woods behind our house, or cracking open a book, or pulling out a puzzle, and I glimpse moments of pure, free joy on his face; he takes off at a full gallop in the open field, takes on those puzzle pieces with gusto, reads a new word for the first time. When I see him enjoying himself like that, I don’t think, “Well, I sure hope he realizes that this is going to make him a better servant of the world someday.” I just rejoice in his enjoyment of life. There doesn’t need to be a purpose in joy–we experience it because God loves us and gives us opportunities to love our lives. Period. My son deserves to enjoy himself. And so do I.

One of my favorite verses in the Bible comes from Zephaniah 3:17:

The Lord your God is with you,
the Mighty Warrior who saves.
He will take great delight in you;
in his love he will no longer rebuke you,
but will rejoice over you with singing.

In its scriptural context, this verse refers to “Daughter Zion,” the redeemed city of Jerusalem; the remnant of survivors to whom God restores life after the devastation of exile. Throughout the story of scripture, God fights for God’s people–woos them, chastises them, forgives them, restores them to life. And God rejoices over God’s people. God delights in God’s people. God sings over them. I have to think that this sort of God would want me to enjoy this life that God fought so hard to give me.

I’ll be honest; when I’m digging into my favorite novel for the seventh time,* or running a nice hot bubble bath, or taking a nice long sip of coffee out on my porch all by myself, I’m not doing it to be a better anything. I’m doing it purely because I love my life, I’m grateful for it, and I want to take a little time to enjoy it–no expectations, obligations, objectives, goals, or strings attached. I’m doing it just for me. And I promise you, I don’t feel guilty about it. Not a bit. We American women are so resourceful; so good at multi-tasking and being productive. We can’t even relax without having to make it an action item; “I’m relaxing so I’ll be a better caregiver.” Just RELAX, for heaven’s sake!

I know there must be self-indulgent moms out there. But I don’t know any. All the moms I know are self-giving, loving, patient, good moms who love their kids and families and would do anything for them. Let’s not take away the joy of the few moments they have to relish life for its own sake, please. Let’s just let them enjoy their brief moments of leisure with no pressure. I’m pretty sure the God who delights in them and rejoices over them with singing would like that.

*Till We Have Faces by C. S. Lewis; seriously, you need to read it.

I was in a high concentration of those this weekend; a large number of bright, promising, incredibly strong, beautiful people–people who also happen to suffer from ARVD. You would never know it by looking at them; in fact, the only way I could tell was by looking at the name tags. Those who had red heart stickers on their tags were the ones who had been diagnosed with ARVD; the rest were family and friends. This past couple of days I attended a conference put on by Johns Hopkins Medicine for those involved in their ARVD study. The study is making huge strides toward better understanding and treating this rare genetic heart disease.

There was the lovely girl whom I would have envied in high school; the adventuress who was told her problem was dehydration so many times she began to believe it herself, until she passed out one too many times for no good reason; the dashing ex-FBI agent who did two tours in Afghanistan and dropped dead for twelve minutes before he finally let them put a pacemaker in his chest. He now has a lovely wife and a brand new baby daughter.

These are extraordinary people. I was in very good company. I also found out more about what happens on a molecular level with ARVD; certain kinds of genetic mutations (they’ve pinpointed seven of them) cause the elastic-like strands at the seams of each heart muscle cell to malfunction, so that the heart is not able to expand and contract as it should. The muscle literally begins to tear itself apart at the cellular level, which over time causes scar tissue and fat to replace the muscle. That’s why people with ARVD are strongly encouraged not to exercise strenuously; high-impact cardio quickens the progression.

Here’s the good news; now that Johns Hopkins has been hard at work researching ARVD for several years, treatment is getting better and better, and most of those with ARVD can look forward to a long, if not quite so active, life. Bad news for the marathon runners in the room, not such a big deal for me (I read books for a living).

And there’s more possibly good news for me particularly; it seems my ARVD diagnosis, while well-intentioned, may have been a bit premature. I only have two out of the four criteria determined by Johns Hopkins to confirm a diagnosis, which means I have “somewhere between a possible and a probable diagnosis” of ARVD. That means that, whatever heart problem I have, it may or may not be ARVD. Tests are ongoing; but in the meantime, I feel much better since I’ve had treatment. So we’ll just wait and see. I chalk it up to yet another example of how little I am actually in control of anything.

As I interacted with the amazing staff of genetic counselors, physicians and researchers at Johns Hopkins and met others who bravely battle this unseen disease, I really was humbled. The older I get, the more I realize that the universe above our atmosphere is nothing compared to the ones each one of us carry around inside us. We spin around one another day in and day out, most of the time oblivious to the supernovas occurring right next to us. Be mindful. You just never know.

When I was first diagnosed, for reasons I can’t quite explain, one of the scariest times for me was right as I was trying to go to sleep. It was like every little blip or odd beat sent a shock-wave of terror through me. It was hard to sleep. For those who might go through that sort of thing, for whatever reason, I offer this, from Psalm 4:8;

“In peace I will lie down and sleep; for you alone, LORD, make me dwell in safety.”

I did not initially plan to end up teaching on the crucifixion narratives in the synoptic gospels (Mark, Matthew and Luke) during holy week. I didn’t plan on teaching on the Cry of Dereliction in Mark (15:34), which of course comes directly from Psalm 22:1, on the last day before Easter break. I also didn’t plan on discovering the “The Fountain of Tears,” a sculpture by Rick Wienecke, just a few minutes before class.

Wienecke, now a Christian, has spent the last thirty or so years living in Israel, and during several years working on a kibbutz, he became friends with the Jewish people he lived with, as he listened to their very personal stories of the holocaust. What has resulted is an artistic representation of what Wienecke calls “A Dialogue of Suffering Between the Holocaust and the Crucifixion.” In the sculpture, the artist represents Jesus in seven panels, as he utters each of the seven words of the cross. In front of each depiction of Jesus stands a sculpture of a male holocaust survivor, with shaven head and striped garments of the concentration camps, in various poses depicting the suffering of the Shoah. The white stones out of which the figure of Jesus is carved are taken from Jerusalem quarries. The six stone pillars represent the six million victims of the Shoah.

In the panel depicting the Cry of Dereliction, Jesus, like the holocaust victim, bears a shaven head and a tattooed number on his arm. The holocaust victim mirrors his posture as together they cry out this dying shout, from a biblical text both Jews and Christians hold to be sacred. It is in this panel, the only one in which the figures do not face each other, that they perhaps share the most intimate solidarity.

I’ve found an incomplete video, the complete version of which can be purchased from this website, in which Wienecke explains the sculpture, and Jewish friends of his discuss it; one of them is Linda Olmert, Director of the Yad Vashem Holocaust Museum. His description as the creator of this piece is profound; but it is Ms. Olmert’s words that brought me to tears, particularly her story of how as a child she tried to “wash off” the number that had been seared into her father’s arm, hoping that this would stop his crying in the night; that it might take away his pain.

The video can be viewed here. This is a controversial piece; it is disturbing and challenging. It provokes strong feelings, as all good art should. Also, for those of us who are preparing for the events of the Passion, it is a reminder of that solidarity that we believe Jesus shares with all who suffer. As I reminded my students today, Jesus was a first century Jew. He was not “the first Christian.” So, in a way, this sculpture crosses the boundaries of time to identify one sufferer with six million of his brothers and sisters. Be troubled by it. Be grieved by it. And above all, remember.

I recently paid good money to see someone, who came highly recommended, speak on prayer. Now, I’m doing a Ph.D on the Psalms, so I’m sure I’m a tough customer. And I admit that what follows may veer dangerously close to full-on rant territory. I’ll try to contain myself.

Here are some of the things this “expert” had to say about prayer:

• The proportion of conversions on Easter Sunday in his church is directly proportional to the number of people he has praying for the service the week before.
• There is a binder full of business cards in his church’s prayer room; people pray for the businesses represented in his church to prosper so that they’ll give more money to the church. He recommends this.
• God will be more likely to answer prayers when they are “marinated” (i.e., prayed for a long time) then when they are “microwaved” (i.e., prayed desperately at the last moment).
• The reason more people aren’t healed is because there aren’t enough people praying for them for long enough (somewhere around this point he dramatically shouted; “How many people here have been healed?!” Many raised their hands. Many didn’t–I couldn’t help but wonder what those who didn’t raise their hands were thinking).

Now, this “God as divine ATM machine” thing is nothing new. I grew up hearing this stuff. In fact, I’m almost certain that if I still believed it I would not be a Christian anymore. Lucky for me, I don’t have to. None of it is biblical. I repeat: NONE of it is biblical.

Nowhere in scripture does it say that God is more likely to hear one type of sincere prayer over another. Nowhere does it say that God heals based on the quantity, or quality, of someone’s prayer. Nowhere does it say that God withholds saving grace based on the number of people praying. Nowhere does it say that God’s work in a sick person can only be determined by whether they are physically healed or not. Nowhere. Here’s some of what scripture does say:

• “In this world you will have trouble. But take heart, I have overcome the world.” John 16:33
• “I want to know Christ and the power of his resurrection and the fellowship of sharing in his sufferings, becoming like him in his death, and so, somehow, to attain to the resurrection from the dead.” Phil. 3:10-11
• They went to a place called Gethsemane, and Jesus said to his disciples, “Sit here while I pray.” ³³ He took Peter, James and John along with him, and he began to be deeply distressed and troubled. ³⁴ “My soul is overwhelmed with sorrow to the point of death,” he said to them. “Stay here and keep watch.” ³⁵ Going a little farther, he fell to the ground and prayed that if possible the hour might pass from him. ³⁶ “Abba, Father,” he said, “everything is possible for you. Take this cup from me. Yet not what I will, but what you will.” Mark 14:32-36
  

Want more? Read the Psalms–all of them. You’ll get a very different picture of prayer than the one this “expert” painted. The reality is that sometimes, no matter how sincere our prayers are, no matter how long and hard we pray them, people stay sick. People don’t convert, at least not in any measurable way. Businesses fail. Wars continue. I refuse to believe that this is because people aren’t praying enough. Maybe, just maybe, we don’t control God. Maybe, just maybe, God works even through pain and suffering to bring us to himself.

I want to present another picture of prayer–this one is offered by Ed Dobson, a one-time pastor of a megachurch. Dobson was diagnosed with ALS (Lou Gehrig’s disease) eleven years ago. He is making a series of videos describing his journey with this debilitating, terrifying disease. In this video, there is a clip from early on in his journey, in which he asks people to pray for his healing. I’m sure he has prayed for healing too. God hasn’t healed his body; but God has healed his soul. Watch it, and see what happens to Ed Dobson.

Do I believe God hears our prayers? Yes. Do I believe God heals us and desires our ultimate good? Absolutely. But I also believe I don’t own God. I have a very limited understanding of God’s ultimate purposes for any of us. I do not control God. And anyone who tries to convince me I do is selling something.

I’m sure lots of guys who went around selling bottles of snake oil in the pioneer days thought they were doing good–I’m sure many of them thought they were actually helping people. But the reality is, what they were selling was false hope to vulnerable people. Don’t get suckered in by spiritual charlatans selling snake oil prayer. It’s not biblical, it’s not real, and it’s not of God. God has something better for you–real hope; real relationship; real intimacy, that will overcome even the grave. Let Ed Dobson tell you about it. Click on the link below and view the video…

The Garden

I am supposed to be grading. And I will, honest. But at the moment, I can’t stop thinking about paper clips.

In the hospital after I had my heart surgery, the first thing I noticed was the feeling of having a brand new pacemaker just under my skin. It was like having a little cell phone in a skin pocket; I thought it might pop out at any moment. The second thing I noticed was the scar.

A few months on, and I almost don’t feel the pacemaker at all anymore. The scar is getting a little smaller, and the red color is fading a bit. But it’s still there, and now that I’m transitioning into warm weather clothes, it’s getting harder to hide. It’s pretty high up on my chest towards the middle, and is only hidden well by turtlenecks and extremely high necked tops–easy to cover in winter, a little less so in tank top season.

So as I was choosing my wardrobe today, I picked a nice black and white sleeveless top with a cute little white shrug sweater, which did not hide the scar. I covered it up with makeup, but that didn’t quite work either. I was teaching today, and the last thing I wanted was for my students to see my scar and spend all their time thinking about it rather than my class material–they’re distracted enough as it is. So, being that I was already in the office by this point, I resourcefully thought about using paper clips to affix the tank top to other garments in such a way that it would sufficiently cover that dang pacemaker scar. And it worked!

I taught the class, pleased with myself for figuring out a creative solution to my scar problem. And then I thought about Jesus. And about how he hung out with scarred people–people whose scars couldn’t be hidden by paper clips. People so scarred that their scars ended up on him. And I’m one of them. Not because of my little pacemaker mark, but because of the deep gashes caused by my own wounds, self-inflicted and caused by others. Jesus still hangs out with me. Jesus isn’t distracted by them.

I know I’ve just gone from the world of reality to the world of metaphor. There’s a difference between visible scars and invisible ones. But not a huge one. I wonder what scars I creatively conceal as I’m mentally preparing for work, for social events, for church. We all do it; it’s normal. But wouldn’t it be great if we were a little less embarrassed by those invisible scars, especially around our friends, family, church folks? God isn’t embarrassed. Jesus still wants to hang out with us.

I still may use paper clips to cover up that scar from time to time…but I’m going to try not to be embarrassed by my scars. I’m going to try to let them be there, and if someone seems preoccupied with them, I might talk about them. There are scars to be proud of–my mother had scars from her C-sections, which she got giving birth to my brother and me. I’ll bet she was proud of those. I’m still alive because of my pacemaker scar. Those of us who follow Christ, especially during this Lenten season, remember that his scars make us free. Maybe we shouldn’t be so embarrassed about ours…

Perusing the book in my living room with Nigel, my ever-present reading buddy...

A few posts ago I told you about the new Jewish Annotated New Testament. In that vein, I have just come across this new book on the Hebrew Bible/Old Testament, written by Douglas A. Knight (a Christian Hebrew Bible scholar) and Amy-Jill Levine (a Jewish New Testament scholar). So you’re going to buy it, right? I mean, really, that’s all you need to know. Oh, ALL RIGHT, I’ll give you some more information.

The book, The Meaning of the Bible: What the Jewish Scriptures and Christian Old Testament Can Teach Us, is “a result of conversation between two scholars with different strengths…We have spent our professional lives engaged with ancient history, and we hope you will be as captivated by the Bible as are we.” (p. xix)

Opting for a thematic approach to the text in question (Tanakh, Old Testament, Hebrew Bible, as it is variously called), the authors have divided the material fairly evenly. So this means that you get more of Knight’s perspective on say, the history and land of ancient Israel, law, creation, politics, ancient Israelite reform movements, and wisdom and theodicy; and you get Levine’s perspective on the literary heritage of ancient Israel, the divine (including a section on “The Divine Feminine”), ancient cultic practices, the exodus and the search for “home”, self and Other, Sexuality (now I know you’re sold), and Diaspora.

The text itself is very accessible; not loaded with footnotes, with a pleasing font and a conversational style. And its thematic approach immediately draws the reader in by offering enticing titles like “Four Stumbling Blocks to Talking about the Biblical God,” “Creation Today” and “Literary Conventions” (well, maybe that last one isn’t so enticing, but mostly they’re pretty good). It’s also surprisingly lightweight for its size, which is nice if you have to lug it around campus.

As someone who is currently teaching a required undergraduate course called “Exploring the Bible,” I fully intend to mine this volume for every bit of useful information I can–anything to convey to my students the ongoing import of this incredibly captivating collection of ancient literature. I only wish Levine and Knight could augment this volume with one which includes the New Testament as well–since it seems so many schools are opting for a one-semester Bible survey course, in which we professors must shoehorn both Testaments (and the Apocrypha if we’re lucky; forget the Pseudepigrapha)  into a measly sixteen weeks. I’d love to hear what Levine and Knight would say about the New Testament. Ah well, there’s always the Jewish Annotated New Testament!

The 1970 AMC Gremlin

I’m 35 years old. I have never once smoked a cigarette. I have maybe two drinks a week. I try to eat healthily most of the time. I exercise. I shouldn’t have a heart problem. But I do.

I do, most likely, because of some faulty microscopic genetic building block that has been lurking in my DNA since the moment I was conceived. That’s a heck of a thing to wrap one’s head around.

In other words, I’m a lemon.

When I was diagnosed with ARVD, a treatable but as yet incurable disease of the right ventricle, I was disconcerted by all the doctors and nurses who kept saying I was “fortunate.” “You know,” they’d say, “many times this disease isn’t discovered until after the patient dies from it.” That’s comforting, I thought. And then I thought back to the countless times over the years when I had felt my heart beating out of control, when things could have gone either way. That’s a heck of a thing to wrap one’s head around.

Ironically, the first confirmed case of ARVD was recognized the year I was born, in 1977. Since then, there have been enormous strides in understanding and treating the disease. I have a pacemaker should I suffer a sudden “engine stall,” so to speak. There are procedures, which I have undergone, that can quiet those dangerous heart arrhythmias. And, should my old lemon of a heart start to break down completely someday, it is possible for me to get a transplant. And more research is being done every day. So yes, I am very fortunate. And not just for these reasons. Unlike a lot of people my age, I’ve had the tremendous gift of facing my own death without dying. That sort of experience tends to clarify one’s priorities.

What I’ve realized is that I tend to make the major decisions of my life based on three deep convictions; people are most important, love matters, and life is precious and fleeting. I think this has always been the case, but I’ve been even more convinced of these things recently. Correlating to these are some core beliefs that I tend to live by on my best days. You may not agree with all of them, but hey; it’s my blog. So here are some of the more important ones:

• God is real, and God is with us.
• On a deep, visceral, sub-cognitive level, the life, death and resurrection of Jesus somehow make sense.
• There is hope in the story of scripture.
• Don’t waste time giving in to fear.
• Don’t waste time nursing your anger. Acknowledge it, deal with it, and get rid of it.
• If you figure out what it is you were put here to do, do it.
• Don’t let your ambition get in the way of your relationships; if a career decision would cause damage to those you love, then it’s not the right time. People are most important.
• That said, when a good opportunity comes along at the right time, grab it. And don’t be surprised when it gets hard. That’s no reason to give up.
• Love lavishly.
• Forgive generously.
• Enjoy every bit of life that you can. You really don’t know how long you have.
• Life is beautiful, because it’s life.
• If you’re alive, you’re blessed. Be grateful.

So these are some of my priorities, in somewhat random order. Being a lemon isn’t so bad. All of us, even the Honda Civics of the world, will break down someday. And it may not be ARVD that does me in after all. But my diagnosis, as much as I would wish not to have had it, is a gift. What’s yours?

Mount Sinai/Horeb at sunrise

It can sometimes be hard to tell when one is being exceptionally brave or exceptionally foolish. And most of the time, if we are the ones about to be either, we don’t really know until we reach the end of whatever it is we are about to be brave or stupid about. Usually, that knowledge comes in hindsight; success = bravery; failure = stupidity. That’s kind of a bum rap for us poor humans, I think.

Just the other day in my “Exploring the Bible” class, I was teaching on the early chapters in Exodus, some of my favorite chapters in all the Hebrew scriptures. I catch something new and different every time I look at this story; what struck me this time was the promise given to Moses at the burning bush. Moses is told that God will bring the Hebrew people out of bondage in Egypt to the “good and broad land” that God had promised to Abraham, and Isaac, and Jacob, ages before. Then God tells Moses that actually, Moses is the one who is going to do the dirty work–which provokes a startled “Why me?! And whom shall I say is calling?!” from Moses (Exodus 3:6-11).

What is most interesting to me at the moment is the “sign” that God gives Moses–the “litmus test” to prove that this is all actually going to pan out. It comes in Exodus 3:12; “I will be with you and this shall be the sign that it is I who sent you: when you have brought the people out of Egypt, you shall worship God on this mountain.”

After the showdown with Pharaoh. After harder labor forced on the Hebrews than they have ever endured before. After everybody loses hope. After the plagues. After the Red Sea. After the Song of the Sea. After Moses and Aaron risk their necks for a God nobody’s heard of. THEN God will provide confirmation for reluctant Moses that, actually, this was a good idea. I feel for Moses, I really do. And the sign came true. So I guess he was pretty brave after all.

And one thing’s for sure; if you’re willing to walk the line, you’ll end up with one exciting story…

Just today I was reminded of The Jewish Annotated New Testament–published back in mid-November by Oxford University Press (just in time for the Society of Biblical Literature Annual Meeting), it is a new version of the New Testament, annotated entirely by the best Jewish scholars in the field today. At the helm were Amy-Jill Levine and Marc Z. Brettler as editors.

Here’s what Amazon.com has to say about it:

Although major New Testament figures–Jesus and Paul, Peter and James, Jesus’ mother Mary and Mary Magdalene–were Jews, living in a culture steeped in Jewish history, beliefs, and practices, there has never been an edition of the New Testament that addresses its Jewish background and the culture from which it grew–until now. In The Jewish Annotated New Testament, eminent experts under the general editorship of Amy-Jill Levine and Marc Z. Brettler put these writings back into the context of their original authors and audiences. And they explain how these writings have affected the relations of Jews and Christians over the past two thousand years.

Incidentally, I got to hear Dr. Levine speak back at at that annual meeting about “What’s New in Biblical Studies;” a session designed particularly to throw bones out to eager, desperate research students like myself. Never did I imagine I would let out unseemly guffaws in a stuffy biblical studies session in much the same way that one would at Comedy Night at the Improv. But I did. She is hilariously funny, in a “Did she really say that?!” kind of way.

If you are interested in the development of Judaism, in the culture surrounding the New Testament, and in contemporary Jewish understandings of the early Christian texts preserved in the New Testament, you might want to give this one a look.

Don’t ever forget: