Then Jephthah came to his home at Mizpah; and there was his daughter coming out to meet him with timbrels and with dancing. She was his only child; he had no son or daughter except her. When he saw her, he tore his clothes, and said, “Alas, my daughter! You have brought me very low; you have become the cause of great trouble to me. For I have opened my mouth to the Lord, and I cannot take back my vow.” (Judges 11:34-35)
When we're comfortable with the Bible at its most troubling, we get comfortable with troubling things right in front of us now.
My heart sank when Twitter erupted with talk of The Family on Netflix; I could tell that it was something I ‘should’ watch, and I was pretty sure I wasn’t going to enjoy it. The five part documentary investigates a secretive organisation of Christian influencers – including current and aspiring politicians – operating in Washington, with connections and affiliated groups around the world. Perfect viewing for those looking to vent some cathartic outrage on a juicily shady target … but for me it all just felt too close to home. My upbringing was peppered with jubilant testimonies of the ‘good’ being done by Christians all around the world, and the theme of special access to people in high places was (still is) a popular and recurring one. I believe / hope / pray that the reality is mixed; that some of these stories are truly worth celebrating. But the achievements portrayed in the series had zero to do with repentant oppressors and the increase of neighbour love, socio-economic inclusion and human dignity for all … and a depressing amount to do with the preservation of a ‘God ordained’ status quo and the promotion of the ‘Christian values’ of cisheteronormativity and traditional gender roles – with particular ‘success’ in those parts of the world where (for example) the advance of gender justice and LGBT+ rights are still in earlier stages, and thus more vulnerable to resistance.
Some of the most disconcerting parts of the show were the dramatic reconstructions of all-male ministry sessions in which the Bible was interpreted in support of the strategic priorities of the organisation. There was a lot of talk about “getting the wolves on side” (cf., e.g., Matt 7:15-16, Matt 10:16-17) – essentially, befriending the powerful and ruthless with the hope, not so much of seeing them transformed, as getting them to do the dirty work on their behalf. Meanwhile an example that came up more than once was that of King David. His 'slip up' with Bathsheba is a shocking story most appropriately understood as power rape, but by the Family’s reckoning (according to the show's writers) it is proof that sin, corruption, abuse and questionable character are all secondary to divine appointment. What matters is that the men God chooses (and yes, the assumption in the main – at least as the program spins it – is that the chosen will be men), should have all the support that they need to get the job done. Even if that means protecting them from the consequences of their own mistakes and abuses (to the exacerbated cost of their victims). And, if the evidence presented is to be believed, it frequently does.
Which brings me on to men’s ministries generally. Now, maybe the men’s groups in my faith community do not spend their evenings excusing the abusive pursuit of power and success with lazy eisegesis, exhorting one another towards aggressive models of “biblical” manhood, affirming idealogies of male headship and female subordination without dissenting input, blaming and shaming women as stumbling blocks and sexualised others to be either shunned or owned and protected. But I wouldn’t know, would I, because they are by definition spaces from which I am excluded. And watching The Family, and reading about (global) organisations like the Promise Keepers, and looking at the promotional material for popular UK events like The Gathering, and wincing in dismay at the growing influence of Jordan Peterson among Christian men, including those of my acquaintance … altogether, honestly, does rather less than nothing to reassure me.
I’ve upset friends in the past by voicing such concerns, and have had to clarify that I'm not at all opposed to healthy male friendships and mutual discipleship. But the gender power imbalance generally – along with the often explicit assumption of male leadership in Christian circles – inevitably means that what men do and discuss behind closed doors impacts on women and on our shared community orders of magnitude more than female-only spaces are likely to impact on men. I don’t think it’s unreasonable to ask that Christian men be accountable to women, not just to one another.
I happened to be reading an excellent if somewhat gruelling work on Judges around the time The Family was released. Death and Dissymmetry by Mieke Bal argues for a counter-coherent reading of the book that reveals a tussle between competing domestic institutions and centers the experiences of female characters, many of whom are victims of horrific male violence. It struck me that David is far from being the only “hero” of the Bible whose uncritical idealisation helps to normalise androcentricity and the recurring marginalisation and abuse of women in Christian contexts. "A Promise is a Promise", read the title of one online Sunday school lesson that I found on Jephthah. Its essence: "This is Jephthah. Jephthah did according to his vow. Jephthah is a hero. Be like Jephthah." Surely we owe it to his unnamed daughter, and to our daughters and our sisters in the now, to re-mangle the story back into hideous shape, with him still on the hook. [1]
[1] In addition to Bal, another superb resource on this is Phyllis Trible's 1984 book Texts of Terror.
[Thumbnail image cc by Abby Savage on Unsplash].
MEN OF THEIR WORD
Now Jephthah was a mighty promiser;
A man
Of Gilead, by Fallen Matriliny but
His father’s son
Unstinting in ambition. Jephthah was
A leader of his brothers,
Takers-back of land together, for the glory,
Hallelujah,
Of the Lord, the land, his brothers
For his father’s house.
He was a worshipper,
According to the true profession, Jepthah
Burned with holy fire
On the threshold of his premises.
He did
His people proud. And so
It is a custom, to this day, among the people
That the fathers of their daughters
Every year assemble
In their numbers
In the downstairs of their Marriots,
In auditoria and stadia,
In canvas on the campsites of their regions,
All sincerity,
To do according to his vow, to offer up
Their houses
Everything that exits every
Self-willed self-extension dancing unexpected
In exchange for glory
For the taking-back together of the land.
The time is circled,
Sister, get you up to higher ground.
Carolyn Whitnall, 2019.
When we're comfortable with the Bible at its most troubling, we get comfortable with troubling things right in front of us now.
My heart sank when Twitter erupted with talk of The Family on Netflix; I could tell that it was something I ‘should’ watch, and I was pretty sure I wasn’t going to enjoy it. The five part documentary investigates a secretive organisation of Christian influencers – including current and aspiring politicians – operating in Washington, with connections and affiliated groups around the world. Perfect viewing for those looking to vent some cathartic outrage on a juicily shady target … but for me it all just felt too close to home. My upbringing was peppered with jubilant testimonies of the ‘good’ being done by Christians all around the world, and the theme of special access to people in high places was (still is) a popular and recurring one. I believe / hope / pray that the reality is mixed; that some of these stories are truly worth celebrating. But the achievements portrayed in the series had zero to do with repentant oppressors and the increase of neighbour love, socio-economic inclusion and human dignity for all … and a depressing amount to do with the preservation of a ‘God ordained’ status quo and the promotion of the ‘Christian values’ of cisheteronormativity and traditional gender roles – with particular ‘success’ in those parts of the world where (for example) the advance of gender justice and LGBT+ rights are still in earlier stages, and thus more vulnerable to resistance.
Some of the most disconcerting parts of the show were the dramatic reconstructions of all-male ministry sessions in which the Bible was interpreted in support of the strategic priorities of the organisation. There was a lot of talk about “getting the wolves on side” (cf., e.g., Matt 7:15-16, Matt 10:16-17) – essentially, befriending the powerful and ruthless with the hope, not so much of seeing them transformed, as getting them to do the dirty work on their behalf. Meanwhile an example that came up more than once was that of King David. His 'slip up' with Bathsheba is a shocking story most appropriately understood as power rape, but by the Family’s reckoning (according to the show's writers) it is proof that sin, corruption, abuse and questionable character are all secondary to divine appointment. What matters is that the men God chooses (and yes, the assumption in the main – at least as the program spins it – is that the chosen will be men), should have all the support that they need to get the job done. Even if that means protecting them from the consequences of their own mistakes and abuses (to the exacerbated cost of their victims). And, if the evidence presented is to be believed, it frequently does.
Which brings me on to men’s ministries generally. Now, maybe the men’s groups in my faith community do not spend their evenings excusing the abusive pursuit of power and success with lazy eisegesis, exhorting one another towards aggressive models of “biblical” manhood, affirming idealogies of male headship and female subordination without dissenting input, blaming and shaming women as stumbling blocks and sexualised others to be either shunned or owned and protected. But I wouldn’t know, would I, because they are by definition spaces from which I am excluded. And watching The Family, and reading about (global) organisations like the Promise Keepers, and looking at the promotional material for popular UK events like The Gathering, and wincing in dismay at the growing influence of Jordan Peterson among Christian men, including those of my acquaintance … altogether, honestly, does rather less than nothing to reassure me.
I’ve upset friends in the past by voicing such concerns, and have had to clarify that I'm not at all opposed to healthy male friendships and mutual discipleship. But the gender power imbalance generally – along with the often explicit assumption of male leadership in Christian circles – inevitably means that what men do and discuss behind closed doors impacts on women and on our shared community orders of magnitude more than female-only spaces are likely to impact on men. I don’t think it’s unreasonable to ask that Christian men be accountable to women, not just to one another.
I happened to be reading an excellent if somewhat gruelling work on Judges around the time The Family was released. Death and Dissymmetry by Mieke Bal argues for a counter-coherent reading of the book that reveals a tussle between competing domestic institutions and centers the experiences of female characters, many of whom are victims of horrific male violence. It struck me that David is far from being the only “hero” of the Bible whose uncritical idealisation helps to normalise androcentricity and the recurring marginalisation and abuse of women in Christian contexts. "A Promise is a Promise", read the title of one online Sunday school lesson that I found on Jephthah. Its essence: "This is Jephthah. Jephthah did according to his vow. Jephthah is a hero. Be like Jephthah." Surely we owe it to his unnamed daughter, and to our daughters and our sisters in the now, to re-mangle the story back into hideous shape, with him still on the hook. [1]
[1] In addition to Bal, another superb resource on this is Phyllis Trible's 1984 book Texts of Terror.
[Thumbnail image cc by Abby Savage on Unsplash].
Comments