Krista Mournet

My university has asked us lowly doctoral students to submit abstracts of our current research interests for their website. Since I’ve written it for them anyway, I thought I’d include my current (subject to change at any moment without prior notice) study topic here. Enjoy!

In recent years, developments of Brevard S. Childs’ canonical approach to scripture, as it relates to the Psalms, have brought up questions regarding the overall shape of the Psalter; its editorial development, structure and the possible historical conditions out of which the canonical form of the Psalter may have arisen. This has led to fruitful discussion around the possibility that different sections of the Psalter may relate to one another; and more specifically, that Books IV-V of the Psalter (Pss 90-150) may form a kind of editorial “response” to Books I-III (Pss 1-89; e.g., Gerald H. Wilson).

While historical claims are notoriously difficult to make with any certainty regarding the Psalter, the literary development of certain foundational themes in Israelite theology may warrant further study. To that end, I am currently undergoing a study of Psalms 89 and 90, in order to discern not only the ways in which these psalms have been interpreted by Jews and Christians through the ages, but whether they may point to a process of inner-biblical exegesis in which Israel demonstrates an ongoing dialogue with its sacred narratives, particularly in this case the narratives of David (Psalm 89/2 Samuel 7) and of Moses (Psalm 90/Exodus 32-34).

It’s funny; for almost as long as I can remember, I’ve felt a little out of place most of the time. When I was little, curled up in my grandpa’s lap or out back by the creek, I remember feeling perfectly at home, completely at ease, like all the pieces seemed to fit where they were supposed to.

But then when I was about eight, my mom’s Type I Diabetes took a turn for the worse and never turned back again. My grandmother died that same year of a heart attack. And since then, I’ve felt, well, a little different. Aware that the folks in my dance classes, or my youth group, or my office, couldn’t really relate to a deeply significant part of who I was. This perhaps could be why I am so comfortable with the metaphors of exile, of diaspora, of displacement, in the Bible (which, incidentally, were not metaphors once upon a time). Even home hasn’t completely felt like home for quite a while.

Today I arrived in my “second home;” Durham, England, where I’m working on a doctorate in Theology. I come out a couple of times a year for intensive weeks of study and do the rest from back in the States. Ever since I left Durham the first time, after finishing my undergraduate and Master’s degrees, I have thought of myself as having two homes; the place I happen to be living at the time, and Durham. I don’t expect that to change anytime soon. And yet, I have felt a little out of place in these places too.

Just today I’ve had several awkward moments; unfamiliar with Heathrow airport, I almost missed my flight and rushed so frantically to get to my gate that I tripped over my carry-on and had a spectacular fall in the middle of terminal A; too bad you weren’t there to see it. Later I popped into a greengrocer’s only to have an elderly woman, as near as I can figure, try to get me to holler from the front of the store to the back to get a sales clerk’s attention for her–when I sheepishly said I didn’t understand, she just brushed me off angrily. When I said “I’m sorry” she accused, “You should be!” and stormed off. Clearly there was a cultural gap there; I left feeling bad about upsetting her, but completely befuddled about what exactly she wanted me to accomplish by shouting at the top of my lungs to somebody at the back of a crowded shop. What was I supposed to say; “Hey, there, green shirt lady”?

So, feeling completely inept at social interaction in the North of England, I gradually recovered my bearings and began to walk my beloved streets again; and through the drizzle I ducked under an archway and down a back alley to a  little cafe housed in an appropriately musty old row home. It was too crowded inside, so I nestled into an outside table. Protected from the rain by an ancient wooden stairway above my head, I slowly sipped a coffee, nibbled a sandwich, and read a book–my frayed introverted nerves rejoicing in solitude after an overnight transatlantic flight. And just then, I was back home.

So here I am in Durham; jet-lagged, too tall, too loud, and very American, but  content. I accept those moments of awkwardness as gracious reminders that help me rejoice all the more in the moments of belonging–my home awaits, and it’s not really here. But amidst the misty Durham cobblestones, or in my living room, or with dear friends, I will catch glimpses of the place in which I will always belong.

Fifteen years ago today, my husband Terence and I took the big leap. It has been one crazy wonderful ride. I put a little piece together in honor of this day and wanted to share it here. I hope Andrew Peterson doesn’t mind me shamelessly pirating his song…

“Marriage is one long conversation, chequered by disputes. The two persons more and more adapt their notions one to suit the other… and in process of time, without sound of trumpet, they conduct each other into new worlds of thought.”

Robert Louis Stevenson

I’ve been in dialogue with some friends lately about the poetry of Denise Levertov (for more info, click here); so today I want to take a detour from Watch for the Light to share a poem of Levertov’s: “Annunciation”. Particularly fitting during this Advent, I think. This was published most recently in The Stream & the Sapphire: Selected Poems on Religious Themes, published in 1997, the year of Levertov’s death.

We know the scene: the room, variously furnished,
almost always a lectern, a book; always
the tall lily.
Arrived on solemn grandeur of great wings,
the angelic ambassador, standing or hovering,
whom she acknowledges, a guest.

But we are told of meek obedience. No one mentions
courage.
The engendering Spirit
did not enter her without consent.
God waited.

She was free
to accept or to refuse, choice
integral to humanness.

____________________________

Aren’t there annunciations
of one sort or another
in most lives?
Some unwillingly
undertake great destinies,
enact them in sullen pride,
uncomprehending.
More often
those moments
when roads of light and storm
open from darkness in a man or woman,
are turned away from
in dread, in a wave of weakness, in despair
and with relief.
Ordinary lives continue.
God does not smite them.
But the gates close, the pathway vanishes.

______________________________

She had been a child who played, ate, slept
like any other child – but unlike others,
wept only for pity, laughed
in joy not triumph.
Compassion and intelligence
fused in her, indivisible.

Called to a destiny more momentous
than any in all of Time,
she did not quail,
only asked
a simple, ‘How can this be?’
and gravely, courteously,
took to heart the angel’s reply,
perceiving instantly
the astounding ministry she was offered:

to bear in her womb
Infinite weight and lightness; to carry
in hidden, finite inwardness,
nine months of Eternity; to contain
in slender vase of being,
the sum of power –
in narrow flesh,
the sum of light.
Then bring to birth,
push out into air, a Man-child
needing, like any other,
milk and love –

but who was God.

It is ironic that in this season of waiting and reflecting we are faced also with a dizzying array of responsibilities, duties and commitments, all of which are noble and lovely, and which, if we aren’t careful, can eat away at the precious quietude of these holy days. It is Advent.

I’ve been reading Watch for the Light, a collection of Advent readings and meditations. Yesterday’s piece was written by Loretta Ross-Gotta, a Presbyterian minister and mother who has managed to carve out one whole day a week for the past twenty years for prayer…perhaps one to help get my perspective straight this Advent. To read more about her, click here.

I offer some of her good words from this piece, entitled “To Be Virgin”:

What matters in the deeper experience of contemplation is not the doing and accomplishing. What matters is relationship, the being with. We create holy ground and give birth to Christ in our time not by doing but by believing and by loving the mysterious Infinite One who stirs within. This requires trust that something of great and saving importance is growing and kicking its heels in you….

Jesus observed, “Without me you can do nothing” (John 15:5). Yet we act, for the most part, as though without us God can do nothing. We think we have to make Christmas come, which is to say we think we have to bring about the redemption of the universe on our own. When all God needs is a willing womb, a place of safety, nourishment, and love. ‘Oh, but nothing will get done,’ you say. ‘If I don’t do it, Christmas won’t happen.’ And we crowd out Christ with our fretful fears.

God asks us to give away everything of ourselves. The gift of greatest efficacy and power that we can offer God and creation is not our skills, gifts, abilities, and possessions. The wise men had their gold, frankincense and myrrh, Paul and Peter had their preaching. Mary offered only space, love, belief. What it is that delivers Christ into the world–preaching, art, writing, scholarship, social justice? Those are all gifts well worth sharing. But preachers lose their charisma, scholarship grows pedantic, social justice alone cannot save us. In the end, when all other human gifts have met their inevitable limitation, it is the recollected one, the bold virgin with a heart in love with God who makes a sanctuary of her life, who delivers Christ who then delivers us.

Try it. Leave behind your briefcase and notes and proof texts. Leave behind your honed skills and knowledge. Leave the Christmas decorations up in the attic. Go to someone in need and say, ‘Here, all I have is Christ.’ And find that that is enough….

The intensity and strain that many of us bring to Christmas must suggest to some onlookers that, on the whole, Christians do not seem to have gotten the point of it. Probably few of us have the faith or the nerve to tamper with hallowed Christmas traditions on a large scale, or with our other holiday celebrations. But a small experiment might prove interesting. What it, instead of doing something, we were to be something special? Be a womb. Be a dwelling for God. Be surprised.”

If you haven’t yet, pick up this little book. It will nourish you this Advent…

Tomorrow is my dad’s birthday. He would be 58, if he were still here. It is the third birthday that I have honored without him, and the fifteenth year that I’ve spent without my mom. It is comforting to me that they no longer have need of timepieces or calendars. But I will continue to mark the years until the Great Reunion, when we will all be together again.

I’ve read a bit ahead in my advent devotional, Watch for the Light. Madeleine L’Engle writes the excerpt for December 4th, Dad’s birthday:

“A sky full of God’s children! Each galaxy, each star, each living creature, every particle and subatomic particle of creation, we are all children of the Maker…we are made in God’s image, male and female, and we are, as Christ promised us, God’s children by adoption and grace….

Was there a moment, known only to God, when all the stars held their breath, when the galaxies paused in their dance for a fraction of a second, and the Word, who had called it all into being, went with all his love into the womb of a young girl, and the universe started to breathe again, and the ancient harmonies resumed their song, and the angels clapped their hands for joy?”

It’s Advent. We hold our breath and wait. We remember that the way things are is not the way things always will be. One day, we will clap, and dance, and sing with the angels, by the grace of God. But for now, it is Advent.

And so begins one of my favorite seasons of the year–Advent. A time to wait; and to remember those things that are worth waiting for. I’ll be taking a break from Through the Labyrinth (the book I’ve been discussing in recent posts) to offer occasional thoughts to aid in this holy process of waiting.

Today I offer a poem, from a wonderful book I picked up at church today: Watch for the Light: Readings for Advent and Christmas…

Black Rook in Rainy Weather

On the stiff twig up there

Hunches a wet black rook

Arranging and rearranging its feathers

in the rain.

I do not expect a miracle

Or an accident

To set the sight on fire

In my eye, nor seek

Any more in the desultory weather

some design,

But let spotted leaves fall as they fall,

Without ceremony, or portent.

Although, I admit, I desire,

Occasionally, some backtalk

From the mute sky, I can’t honestly

complain;

A certain minor light may still

Lean incandescent

Out of kitchen table or chair

As if a celestial burning took

Possession of the most obtuse objects

now and then–

Thus hallowing an interval

Otherwise inconsequent

By bestowing largesse, honor,

One might say love. At any rate,

I now walk

Wary (for it could happen

Even in this dull, ruinous landscape);

skeptical,

Yet politic; ignorant

Of whatever angel may choose to flare

Suddenly at my elbow. I only know

that a rook

Ordering its black feathers can so shine

As to seize my senses, haul

My eyelids up, and grant

A brief respite from fear

Of total neutrality. With luck,

Trekking stubborn through this season

Of fatigue, I shall

Patch together a content

Of sorts. Miracles occur,

If you dare to call those spasmodic

Tricks of radiance miracles. The wait’s

begun again,

The long wait for the angel,

For that rare, random descent.

Sylvia Plath

In chapter 3 of Through the Labyrinth, Eagly and Carli discuss the questions; what traits are helpful for leadership? And are men inherently more likely to possess these traits?

A long-held theory proposes that evolution has dealt men a better hand when it comes to leadership. Proponents of this theory claim that “leadership, and dominance more generally, stems from traits that are built into the male of the human species through adaptation to the primeval environments in which humans evolved…By this reasoning, nature has doomed women to cede power and status to men except in the kitchen and the nursery.” So, since traits such as aggression, risk-taking, and competitiveness served men well in the primeval world, they also come in handy in the executive board room. (30)

Some problems exist with this theory however. It assumes that authority and dominance are inherent in men’s nature and always have been. However, research among cultures that are still dependent on foraging and farming, such as the Vanatini people in New Guinea, show that women and men share authority equally; since the society is matrilineal, women have “considerable access to material resources,” and families alternate residences between the wife’s and the husband’s family. ( 32) And both men and women can take leadership roles in the community. So it is possible that the evolutionary situation is not as clear-cut…in fact, in many primeval, hunter-gatherer societies, the men were responsible mainly for hunting game and warfare (jobs which provided sporadic success), while women had the lion’s share of gathering food and raising children, giving them the most important role for providing stability in the society.

In fact, the authors’ research seems to indicate that it was the demands of increasingly complex societies, not necessarily biology, that caused a greater delineation of male and female roles. “As more complex economies developed, people acquired new productive roles [for example, in farming and mining], including many roles requiring work outside the household. These new roles increasingly required training, intensive energy expenditure, and travel away from the home.” Because men did not have the responsibilities of giving birth and caring for infants in the same way, and because of their physical advantages in strength and speed, they were better suited to roles associated with preindustrial communities, such as large scale farming, “smelting of ores, lumbering and warfare.” (33)

The question then comes to mind; as we are increasingly working in a technological, service-oriented age, in which physical strength is less important, and as women gain more reproductive freedom, does the playing field not change significantly? And what are the qualities needed for leadership now?

Increasingly, aggressiveness and dominance are becoming less desirable in leadership; as Peter Crist, chairman of an executive search firm, says; “There are two traits now that in the corporate world are the kiss of death: intellectual arrogance and bullying.” (39) More and more, it seems that collaborative models of leadership are more effective. The authors conclude the chapter by saying that “[s]uccessful leaders most often have an androgynous balance of traits that include gregariousness, positive initiative and assertions, social skills, intelligence, conscientiousness, integrity, trustworthiness, and the ability to persuade, inspire, and motivate others. In short, effective leadership surely is not enhanced only by feminine qualities or only by masculine qualities.” (48)

So this begs the question: have men historically been understood to be “better suited” to leadership because those who defined “leadership” have tended to be men? Perhaps we have been dealing with a circular argument. As women become more accepted in spheres of leadership, perhaps, as the authors indicate above, the concept of leadership itself will change, and for the better. Perhaps we are moving toward the image of a leader not as the biggest kid in the sandbox with the most toys, but rather as the one, male or female, who is best able to give everyone a shot at playing well together. That’s not a bad thing at all.

In chapter two of Through the Labyrinth, the authors engage in an extensive statistical analysis of the proportions of men and women in leadership roles over time, beginning in the early 20th century; they also investigate the percentage of college degrees awarded to women versus men over about the same amount of time. Not surprisingly, the evidence shows a gradual increase of women in the workplace and in the university over time; this increase is more pronounced in the areas of education, social work and the humanities. And there is a greater increase of women in middle management roles, while fewer women occupy the elite levels of leadership. However, recent data show that women are edging out men in the number of college degrees awarded; so the number of women in leadership roles is likely to continue to rise.

I was disappointed to find that the study does not include any data regarding female clergy, or females in leadership roles in ministry in general. I haven’t looked to see if such a study exists, but I would be curious to see if the statistics are at all similar; are women attaining the same levels of leadership in the Church as in the “secular” world (for lack of a better term)? Does the current theological debate, particularly in evangelical conservative circles, make any difference? I’m sure there is anecdotal evidence, but I wonder if a thorough comparison has ever been done of Christian denominations (particularly Protestant) and the role of women…

This is the question posed in chapter one of Through the Labyrinth: The Truth about how Women Become Leaders. The authors argue that, while the glass ceiling metaphor may have been apt twenty years ago or more when men clearly dominated positions of leadership across the board, now the barriers are more permeable–more difficult to categorize using such a rigid image.

The authors instead offer the image of the labyrinth, which “captures the varied challenges confronting women as they travel, often on indirect paths, sometimes through alien territory, on their way to leadership.” (1)

They go on to state seven reasons why the glass ceiling metaphor is no longer apt, and may in fact be misleading:

1. It erroneously implies that women have equal access to entry-level positions.

2. It erroneously assumes the presence of an absolute barrier at a specific high level in organizations.

3. It erroneously suggests that all barriers to women are difficult to detect and therefore unforeseen.

4. It erroneously assumes that there is a single, homogeneous barrier and thereby ignores the complexity and variety of obstacles that women leaders can face.

5. It fails to recognize the diverse strategies that women devise to become leaders.

6. It precludes the possibility that women can overcome barriers and become leaders.

7. It fails to suggest that thoughtful problem-solving can facilitate women’s paths to leadership. (7)

I might add another: it assumes that all those in authority are equally antagonistic toward women’s rise to leadership. More and more, women are finding a mixed bag when it comes to the levels of acceptance and support they receive in their journey to leadership, depending on who might be in what position of authority, and at what time. Yet another reason that the labyrinth is an effective metaphor.

In this discussion, it is important to have a working definition of what/who a leader is…the authors provide this description:

Leadership entails being in charge of other people in multiples ways. It consists of influencing, motivating, organizing, and coordinating the work of others. In groups, organizations, and nations, leadership involves bringing people together to enable them to work toward shared goals. In motivating people to work together, leaders encourage them to set aside narrow self-interest. In short, leaders influence and inspire the activities of others to foster the progress of a group, organization, or nation toward its goals.  (9)

Finally, I want to share some thoughts the authors quote from Christine Todd Whitman, who served as governor of New Jersey and head of the Environmental Protection Agency: “I believe, deep down, ‘Yeah, a lot of the tough stuff may be because I’m a woman, but I’m not going to spend my whole time thinking and complaining about it, because then I won’t get anything done. All I will do is concentrate on the fact that the road’s a little harder because I’m a woman.’ After all, there are lots of people for whom it’s much harder than it is for me.” (8)