Call + Response

Have you seen this?

http://callandresponse.com/

Nice bits of yesterday and today

- When we got our oil changed yesterday, the guy hinted that if we bought anything at the Jewel across the street, we'd get a $7-off coupon for the oil change. So for 88 cents (plus tax) we got a two-liter of Diet Cherry Pepsi and $7 off the oil change.

- Then we drank from the two-liter in the Meijer parking lot--with a straw.

- The crossing guard called me "darlin'" this morning.

- I watched a pathetically shaved, trembling, and froofy poodle pee on a garbage can, but he was so little his marking had to be really brief.

- It's the first day of fall! I baked leaf-shaped cookies! They are hard and must be dipped in coffee!

because i'm supposed to be writing a paper, but my head is cold-fuzzy

First sniffles of the season! I'm actually weirdly excited about this.

Katie: in response to your questions about the slow cooker, I don't know how to keep food from getting mushy. I haven't actually used mine that often, though I'm trying to use it more now that I have a class that goes from 4:15-5:30 two days a week, and a housemate no longer working night shifts. I've mostly used mine for things that won't really get overmushy (or things that won't be gross if they are mushy): chili, stew (I should have kept the potatoes bigger, though, because they did), etc. I have a huge book of crock pot recipes: I'll post ones that are successful, perhaps?

Here's a not slow-cooked recipe, because I'm in the mood to nest:

Simple Potato Soup

This makes a very full pot of soup. Invite friends or freeze some.

1. Bake at least 6 medium potatoes. (To bake: scrub, pierce with fork, leave uncovered in 375-degree oven an hour to an hour and fifteen minutes). A really great thing to do would be to bake a lot of potatoes all at once (it doesn't take any longer, right?) when you plan to make baked potatoes, then use the rest the next day for soup. I also like to add more potato to the soup. Once you can handle these, cut them into small chunks (I like to leave the skin on).

2. Make the soup base: saute 1 large onion, chopped, and 3-5 minced cloves of garlic. Stir and add 1 Tbsp salt, 2 tsp pepper, 1 Tbsp dried basil, and 2/3 Cup of flour. Now slowly stir in 9 cups of chicken or vegetable stock. You want to avoid sticky lumps of flour--you may have to scrape some of these apart with your wooden spoon. (A much cheaper way to handle the stock is to add 9 cups of water and 4-5 boullion cubes, though this may increase your sodium content.)

3. Bring the soup to a boil and boil for a few minutes, stirring (break up any flour lumps!). Then add your cubed potatoes and 3 Cups of milk, but don't boil now! Just simmer! Heat through, and you're done.

Modifications/garnishes: serve with chopped green onion, shredded cheese, sour cream, crumbled cooked bacon, and/or chives. If you want some protein, you could add a drained can of kidney beans or browned ground beef. I'm contemplating adding sauteed red bell pepper next time.

rain!

So apparently Chicago is in a state of emergency because of flooding? Up on the third floor, we have the sort of inverse problem: a leaky ceiling! Josh's desk is even pitifully warped in one corner.

But! We have coffee from beans we bought on sale this afternoon at Meijer, lovely Meijer, and a whole lot of reading going on. And perhaps stir-fry for dinner.

Yum.

Here's a recipe (for you omnivores) for a stew I made in the crock pot last week, which was really really lovely:

1. Put 2-3 lbs beef (I used chuck and trimmed it a LOT), cut into 1-2" pieces, into the bottom of the crock pot. Dab on a little can of tomato paste and 3 Tablespoons balsamic vinegar. Add salt and pepper to taste.

2. On top of this, add 1 lb carrots, cut into 1-2" long pieces, 1 lb new potatoes (as long as they're small, don't cut them!), and 1 lb cheap onions, cut into 1-2" wedges. Over this, spread 5-8 crushed/chopped garlic cloves and 2 bay leaves.

3. Cook on high for 5 hours. Serve with a green salad and biscuits or crusty bread.

Goodness gracious, the world is changing quickly. Two days ago I was cold-brewing coffee on the counter and trying to keep my ice cube tray full, and now I'm drinking four massive mugs of tea a day and piling up the books again.

Politics: don't get me started on politics. Yes, these things matter and we have to engage, but wow, this isn't where we're really putting all our hope, is it? What is all this distracting us from?

oh

Glow, light, and tell me something:
do you ever fear?
In the soft white night hum,
the haze of talk and fireflies,
do you feel?
I feel.
I feel you, warm and strong
against my pupils--
contract,
contract,
sign on the dotted line.
I feel the tight-throat-small-
world ache of plans and pains
and an IV dripping crimson into
her tissue-paper purple veins.
This is feeling:
what is a prayer but a lit candle,
a puff of smoke, a match's
acrid scent dipped into dishwater,
hiss.
And this is fearing:
all those nights, and
crimson dripping, dripping,
and the bag wrinkled empty and transparent.
Do you fear?
Do you feel?
Or did you know from day one,
four BC, or thirty-three AD,
that all would be well,
and all will be well,
and all manner of things shall be well?
Because, lamp, I do not see the world
in a hazelnut shell;
I can't afford hazelnuts,
haircuts, hamburgers, or bus fare in the rain.
Let me tell you:
I feel pain and empty evenings
where friends should would be.
Look at me: and tell me,
glimmer, if you felt the ache of
endless unresolution,
unheard cries for retribution,
loved ones steeped in, seeping sorrow,
and the dull, sweet taste--
of distraction, dim and dimming?

Am I a son of God?

Somewhere in North Dakota or Minnesota, on our way home from Montana a few weeks ago, Josh and I heard a radio sermon from the very familiar Independent Baptist tradition. The preacher went on without stopping for at least 40 minutes; his accent was southern-tinged; his translation was King James; and his topic was the family.

At one point in the sermon he paused over an address in the text that began, "My brothers" or "My son" (I can't recall which, exactly). "Now," he fumed, "I'll not have any of this gender stuff. It's not 'my brothers and sisters' or 'my sons and daughters.' That's not what the inspired text says. Clearly the male is meant to address everyone, and if you can't understand that, well ... But that's another topic for another time."

I can't tell you how many times I've heard this line of thinking. In the fundamentalist churches where I grew up, at the evangelical university where I did undergrad, and even at the more moderate churches I visited in college. "Adjust your thinking," was usually the argument. "Mankind means everyone. Read those addresses to men as gender neutral. Don't get upset like the angry feminists!"

Another argument I remember hearing more than once was that the New Testament passages that called believers "sons of God" [as in the lilting chorus, "Behold what manner of love the Father hath given unto us..."] were importantly translated as sons because back in the biblical day, sons had rights to inheritance and privileges that weren't available to daughters.

On the one hand, this claim is radical: the implication is that men and women (because we know clearly from scripture that both men and women were coming to Christ) were given the spiritual equivalent of benefits usually only offered to men. In Christ, there is neither male nor female, Jew nor Greek, slave nor free, yes? For a woman to be lifted to the rank of inheriting son--well, that's some pretty good news.

On the other hand, though, we seem to be at cross-purposes. Growing up in church, I was taught over and over again that we were all created in the image of God, loved by God, so precious in His sight that He sent His Son for all of us (a la John 3.16). This seemed to be pretty gender neutral. But I was also taught that the masculine pronoun didn't always just stand for men--that it was big enough to stand for everyone. Sometimes. I was taught that there were places in the Bible I should understand to refer to me, even though it said "he" or "brothers" or "sons," and there were other places where it didn't. And by golly, it was a privilege to be counted among those the Bible did refer to more generally in masculine terms.

So the explicit teaching was that, even as a little girl, with girl body parts and girl dresses, I was equal to boys, just different. But the implicit teaching was that boys really were superior, that God had done me a favor in overlooking my girlness and decided to call me a son anyway.


Now let's get historical. In many cultures, particularly agrarian ones, limiting inheritance rights to sons (and usually firstborn sons) was best for the long-term wellbeing of a family. It consolidated resources, kept tracts of land and herds and such going in instances where parceling it out among offspring (or to the families daughters married into!) would have decreased the family's overall wealth and eventually resulted in bits of resources that couldn't sustain a family.

But while these norms are practical, they rely on assumptions about gender roles and responsibilities that aren't so prevalent today. They also kept men in real power over women (and the otherwise less fortunate) in ways that allowed for a long history of normalized abuse. This should come as no surprise: humans' sinful nature results in selfishness and a desire for power; couple that with male physical strength and a long history of male rule, and it's no wonder gender relations have come out uneven (this is part of the curse--Gen. 3:16). Any insistence that men have done a good job with the power they've held historically totally ignores (1) history and (2) sin nature.

But Jesus came to break the curse, to set captives free, to restore right relationships between people and God and between people and other people. No matter what your opinions about gender roles, I think we can agree that men are not naturally superior (I hope we can agree on that). Particularly in an industrialized society that does not rely so consistently on our muscle mass to determine roles, women and men take on many of the same tasks that rely on their intellect and creativity.

I think we can also agree that in Christ, there are neither male nor female, slave nor free, Jew nor Greek: we are equal in the sight of God. We may have different roles within marriage and even within churches (though I suspect our readings of New Testament teachings on these matters really need careful contextualization and awareness of our assumptions), but we are all as desperately in need of Christ's redemptive, transforming work in our lives, we are all as reliant on the guidance and comfort of the Holy Spirit, we are all created in God's image and loved by the Father.

At least in the contemporary U.S., material gender norms have changed enough (for the better!) that to call a woman a "son" is no longer a sign of granting her radical privilege but is, instead, an indication of continuing belief that men are somehow superior. In biblical translation and teaching, I think we've come to the place where we should recognize the harm it does to little girls and grown up women (and to little boys and grown up men) to be told over and over that women should just "insert" themselves into the "brotherhood" of all believers, that they should understand that "mankind" can stand for all people. (White) male experience is not universal; God did not ordain that it be so.

And so I believe that I am most appropriately called a daughter of God. I believe that He has never approved of abuses of male power that led to assumptions of female inferiority; I believe that His consistent concern for the oppressed has always extended to oppressed women; I believe that, in saving me, He did not have to overlook my little girl ovaries but that my decidedly female body is made in His image; I believe that He sent His Son to save me in all my feminine specificity, and that one day, when all is made right and there is a new heaven and a new earth, my glorified body will not include a penis.

Behold, what manner of love.