Sermon – Genesis 29.15-28, P12, YA, July 30, 2017

Tags

dehumanize, God, gospel, hope, Jacob, Jesus, Laban, Leah, light, love, Monticello, power, property, Rachel, redemption, Sermon, sexism, slavery, women

Every week that I am preaching, I start out by listening to a podcast by biblical scholars.  They talk for about twenty minutes on the four lessons, and always have interesting things to say.  Sometimes their insights lead me in a particular direction, and sometimes not.  This week, these most esteemed scholars had one thing to say:  do not preach on the Old Testament lesson.  In all my years of listening to them, I do not think they have ever suggested avoiding a text altogether.  Their reasoning was sound.  They simply felt that this part of the Jacob story – the antics between Laban and Jacob that leave Rachel and Leah voiceless property, objectified and dehumanized – had no good news, no gospel, to offer or preach from this week and should therefore be avoided.

So.  Let’s talk about the gospel in Rachel and Leah’s story.  To get there, you are going to have to hang through some rough stuff first.  Here is the thing about this story:  this story of Laban tricking Jacob to marry Leah before marrying Rachel is often depicted as a story only about Jacob and Laban.  In fact, usually this story is depicted as being the story of how Jacob finally gets what is coming to him.  Perhaps there is some validity to that analysis.  Jacob, the trickster finally gets tricked.[i]  Jacob, the man who weasels his way into the birthright and his father’s blessing, is weaseled out of his desired bride and is tricked into fourteen years of service for her – a price well beyond anything that would be expected in his day, especially of a relative to the bride’s family.[ii]  One could argue that Jacob met his match in his father-in-law Laban – a man equally dishonest, scheming, and self-centered.

And all of that analysis is interesting.  But I do not think that is where the heart of the story is today.  Today I am more interested in Rachel and Leah.  Rachel and Leah have been put at odds probably their entire life.  Though Leah is the older sister, Rachel is the more attractive sister.  And in their day, and ours, being attractive means wielding some power.  Then, Jacob comes along and wants something he cannot really have – a younger sister whose older sister has not yet been married.  Then the two women are thrown around as objects, as though they are non-persons.  We hear nothing of what Leah feels, being veiled and forced to marry a man who does not want her, without his consent or hers, and then to be scorned the next morning.  To make matters worse, a week later, her husband also marries her sister.  And let’s not forget about Rachel.  We assume she desires Jacob as he desires her, but we are never told about her feelings.  Assuming she did want to marry him, she had to stay silent as Leah took what had been promised to her.  Then, in order to get the husband she may or may not have wanted, she had to share him with her much more fertile sister.  Though we do not read about it today, Rachel’s barrenness is just one more way she is the victim in our story.

But all of those questions and ruminations are just speculation.  We know nothing of how either woman felt because the text does not tell us.  The text, the culture, the men in our story treat the women like objects; silent property to be manipulated at their will.  Rachel and Leah are pawns in Jacob and Laban’s twisted, deceptive lives, with no rights, no voice, and no power.  And when we look at their voiceless, powerless, hopeless lives, we may believe, like those scholars, that there seems to be little good news here.  We could even ask the harder question:  where is God?  Where is God when Rachel and Leah are dehumanized and objectified by an entire system and family?

The easy way out of this story would be to suggest that we are lucky because at least we do not live in a society like Rachel and Leah’s.  But the reality of treating some people in society as property has long been a part of our identity – thousands of years ago, hundreds of years ago, and today.  Last weekend, Scott and I had the opportunity to visit Monticello.  I had never been and was excited to learn about a respected founding father.  And what I learned was not disappointing.  Jefferson was a brilliant man:  a scientific genius, a profound wordsmith, with a creative, prolific mind.  But what drew me in was the slave tour at Monticello.  Behind the grandeur of Monticello, the technological advances, and conveniences of the property was the reality of slavery.  Behind all of fascinating parts of Monticello were the voiceless, dehumanized, objectified men, women, and children.  Behind the thrill of advancement and intellectual prowess was the cold, harsh reality of people whose lives were out of their own control.  To be fair, of slaveholders, Jefferson was one of the less physically brutal, and there is a chance that he actually loved at least one of those slaves.  But they were still slaves, ever living under the threat of physical violence, and perhaps worse, separation from their partners and children.

Two stories at Monticello helped me connect with the utter depravity of our story from scripture, as well as the redemption and hope from our story from scripture.  The first was of a slave at Monticello who was “leased” to a local townsman while Jefferson was out of the country.  She came with three sons.  In the course of her time in town, two of her sons came of age and were sold away.  Meanwhile, she and the man began a relationship and she had two daughters with him.  When Jefferson returned to the country, the slave approached Jefferson herself and asked if she and the man could continue to live together with their children.  Jefferson agreed that the man could buy her and the two children they had borne together.  But her remaining son he ordered back to Monticello.  I was struck by how even though Jefferson was somewhat gracious to her, she still lacked power – she lived at the mercy of others, her children treated as property.  Her life was traded like Leah was traded from Laban to Jacob.

But then there was another story.  When Jefferson died, he left behind many debts, so the majority of the slaves were sold.  One slave was able to buy his freedom, but not the freedom of his wife and eight children.  One by one, over time, the former slave bought back his wife and seven children.  But one child remained.  Eventually the remaining son of that slave was to be sold to a plantation far away, and the man could not gather enough funds to purchase him before he was sold.  In solidarity, the former slaves of Monticello pooled their money and were able to help the man finally reunite his entire family.  Even in the midst of the sinful institution of slavery that treated our brothers and sisters as dehumanized property, the powerless were able to scrape up some power and find a sense of agency.  They found some sense of redemption in their collective power.

I like to believe that there is some glimmer of redemption in Rachel and Leah’s story too.  Despite the ways they are objectified, made into commodities to be bartered without input, these two women and their servants give birth to the twelve tribes of Israel – the very fathers of our faith.  God moves in human imperfection, and God’s love overcomes human failure to love.[iii]  In the face of barrenness, God opens wombs.  In the face of oppression, God makes a way out.  In the face of Leah’s lesser status, comes the genealogical line that produces Jesus.[iv]  This voiceless, unwanted, powerless one produces the man who redeems us all.

It is easy to sit in judgment of Jacob and Laban, or to sit in judgment of the institution of slavery.  As biblical scholar Beth Tanner says, “We can sit comfortably on a Sunday morning and condemn their actions and their culture and thank God we have evolved.  But that would mean we miss the point of the narrative completely.  They are not “them.”  They are us.  We are far from perfect.  Families are messy and often broken.  We hurt each other intentionally and unintentionally.  We act in our own best interest and against the greater good of others.  We forget to ask those with less power about decisions that impact their lives.  To look on this family is to look straight into human brokenness.  To look on the culture is to hold up a mirror to our world that still judges individuals on their appearance and treats women as less than men.  [The story of our ancestors] is not cleaned up to impress the neighbors or provide unobtainable role models for moral living.  They are faithful and sinful.  They are blessed by God and cursed by their actions.  Their culture is on display in this text, and it has a good dose of corporate sin in its sexism and treatment of those with less power.”[v]

In that messiness, in that hopelessness, in that depravity is still gospel light.  “Gospel is present because God keeps God’s promises to a sinful humanity.  God is faithful when we are busy managing our lives.  God is faithful even when God is not overtly part of the narrative.  God loves the broken families of the world.  God loves so much God will send [God’s] son to ‘the sons of Israel’ and by extension, to us.”[vi]  I don’t know about you, but when I am staring into acres of land, contemplating the racism and oppression that began hundreds of years ago, or I am facing a text about the powerlessness of women that continues from thousands of years ago, I am grateful for a God who is faithful to us even when we are not faithful to God.  I am beyond humbled by our God who refuses to disown us in our hatefulness, and goes to ultimate lengths to save us from ourselves.  And I am thrilled by a God who can make a great nation out of us, despite ourselves.  We are not beyond God’s redemption.  We are not beyond God’s forgiveness and grace.  This text is our reminder that God’s good news is offered fresh, everyday, throughout time, offering us the opportunity to become co-creators of goodness.  And that is good news to be preached.  Amen.

[i] W. Eugene March, “Exegetical Perspective,” Feasting on the Word, Supplemental Essays, Batch 2, Proper 12, Year A (Louisville:  Westminster John Knox Press, 2011), 6.

[ii] Greg Garrett, “Theological Perspective,” Feasting on the Word, Supplemental Essays, Batch 2, Proper 12, Year A (Louisville:  Westminster John Knox Press, 2011),3.

[iii] Garrett, 5.

[iv] Matthew 1.3.

[v] Beth L. Tanner, “Commentary on Genesis 29:15-28,” July 30, 2017, as found at http://www.workingpreacher.org/preaching.aspx?commentary_id=3353 on July 26, 2017.

[vi] Tanner.

Sermon – Ephesians 4.1-16, 2 Samuel 11.26-12.13a, P13, YB, August 2, 2015

Tags

Bathsheba, Black Lives Matter, body, calling, Christians, David, denigrate, dignity, God, Jesus, Nathan, one, Paul, power, shame, sin, Uriah, women

A short film circulated about a year ago[i] about the role of all religions to protect women.  The film starts out with a young woman, walking along a dirt road with books in her arms.  We presume she is walking to school to further her education.  She walks past two young men who covetously watch her pass by.  The viewer can surmise what is going to happen next.  The two men get up from the wall and start to follow her.  The young woman glances over her shoulder and sees the men following.  She speeds up, but they start running, managing to pass her, and block her way.  She comes up short and starts to back up, calculating how she is going to get away from these two men to safety.

The anxiety and dread of the young woman in that film has reminded me of Bathsheba these past two weeks.  Most of us are familiar with the David and Bathsheba story.  When we started hearing David’s story this summer, we knew this part was coming.  The story starts out in a totally different place.  When we first meet David, he is an unsuspecting, seemingly innocent, wholesome boy.  We watch David bravely take on the giant Goliath with just a bag of stones.  He is the loving friend of Jonathan and Michal, despite the fact that their father Saul tries repeatedly to kill him out of jealousy.  And when David finally becomes king, he joyously dances before God.  David has been towing the “blessed” line for most of the summer.

But these last two weeks, the story changes.  You see, David has gotten complacent and a bit self-important.  When all the other kings are going out to battle, David stays behind, letting others do his fighting.  When the rest of the kingdom is busy working or tending to life, David is lounging around the palace.  That’s where he first spies Bathsheba.  David should not have been there, and he certainly should not have let his eyes linger on a bathing married woman.  And then something awful takes over David.  He sends his men to take Bathsheba, and he sleeps with her.  Though the text never says so, we know the act must be against Bathsheba’s will, given the “enormous power differential between the violator and the violated, the intuitional background in which the crime [is] committed, and the cunning with which it [is] executed.”[ii]  Later, when Bathsheba becomes pregnant, David deepens his shame by trying to trick Bathsheba’s husband to sleep with her so that he will think the baby is his.  When that doesn’t work, David sends him to battle, having him killed in the line of fire.

I know most of us know this story.  Many of us think of this story as David’s little indiscretion.  But for some reason, reading this story this year has enraged me.  I don’t know if I am angered because I have been hearing too many stories lately about the way we treat women.  Or maybe I am angered because I expect more from David – this king who is the ancestor of our Messiah.  Or maybe I am just outraged by one more example of the powerful overpowering the powerless – taking whatever they want, ruining lives along the way.  This story is about more than an indiscretion.  This story is about a violation of the created order – a violation of the body of God.

Today, as Paul is teaching the Ephesians, he holds them to a higher standard.  Paul says, “I…beg you to lead a life worthy of the calling to which you have been called, with all humility and gentleness, with patience, bearing with one another in love, making every effort to maintain the unity of the Spirit in the bond of peace.  There is one body and one Spirit, just as you were called to the one hope of your calling, one Lord, one faith, one baptism, one God and Father of all, who is above all and through all and in all.”  Paul says we are one body.  This calling that we are to live worthily is not the vocation we have.[iii]  The calling Paul is talking about is the calling we have as Christians to be one body in Christ – of being a loving, caring, humble body in the Lord.  Nothing David does today reflects the dignity of every human being or the one body in the Lord.  In fact, David does not even seem to see the humanity in Bathsheba or her husband, Uriah.

I think why I am so angry at David is because I am angry with myself.  As much as I want to chastise and critique David, I know that my judgment of him comes out of deep sense of my own brokenness.  David makes me acutely aware of my own failings to see the dignity of every person, to honor the ways in which we are all a part of the body of Christ.  I have become aware of my own complicity with sin as the campaign “Black Lives Matter,” has arisen over the past few years.  As more and more cases of the oppression black men and women have arisen in our country, and as more and more stories have been told about the separate reality these men and women experience from white men and women, I have been feeling more and more convicted.  If we are all one body, when black lives are denigrated, all of our lives are denigrated.  When parts of our body are shamed, abused, or live in the shadow of fear, the rest of our body is not whole.  When I participate in that abuse, whether consciously or unconsciously, I am a part of that sinful denigration of our collective body.

The same was true for Bathsheba.  When Bathsheba is taken by David, the whole body of God is denigrated.  When David sins, everyone loses favor.  And the only way to correct for sin is repentance.  The initiator of repentance today is not David, but Nathan.  Now Nathan is a smart prophet.[iv]  He does not storm into the palace, wagging his finger at David.  No, he tells a story.  Nathan tells a story of a poor man and his beloved sheep.  Of course, David is drawn in by the story.  As a former shepherd himself, he knows the beloved relationships that can happen with animals for which you care.  And so when David hears of a rich man taking that sole, beloved animal, David is outraged, and proclaims that justice must prevail.  Without hesitation, Nathan now is able to quietly, but pointedly say to David, “You are the man!”  You see, Nathan remembers his calling.  He remembers the way that God taught us to live as a community of faith – that when one of our members sins, we are all denigrated by that sin.  What David would hide, and cover, Nathan exposes and corrects.

In that short film of the two men pursuing the young woman, a turn happens.  As the woman starts to slowly back up, another man is passing by.  He sees what is happening and he quickly runs over to stand between the young woman and the two men.  The two men threaten him, but he stands firm.  A Sikh man in a turban also sees what is happening and joins the protesting man, grabbing his hand and joining him in front of the woman.  A Muslim man comes along and joins hands with the men too.  Then a Christian man joins the other men.  Slowly, eight men join hands together, forming a circle of protection around the woman.  The two pursuing men back away and retreat.  A smile crosses the young woman’s face, and she lifts her head a little higher.

What this short film captures is the power of the body acting as the body.  When Nathan pronounces judgment on David, Nathan is participating in holding up the health of the whole body.  The story at this point could have gone a different way.  Nathan could have been tossed aside, and David could have kept up his deception.  But David’s last words are simple and profound.  “I have sinned against the Lord.”  Truthfully, David sinned against Bathsheba and Uriah.  But what David understands even more profoundly is that when David sins against members of the body, David sins indirectly against the Lord.[v]  We hear his fuller confession in the words of the Psalm we read today.[vi]  But what David’s words teach us is that healing and wholeness are possible.  David does not just say “I am sorry,” but David repents – or as the Hebrew word connotes, David changes his way, and returns to the Lord.  David moves back toward health and wholeness.

The redemption in David’s story for me comes not through David, but through Nathan.  Like those men in that video, Nathan stands up for those without power.  When that action happens, the body is able to move toward wholeness.  When Paul tells us to remember our calling today, Paul is talking about all the parts of us.  For those times when we are Davids, those times when we are pushed to be Nathans, and for those times when we are the Bathshebas and Uriahs, Paul’s words are simple.  “I…beg you to lead a life worthy of the calling to which you have been called….  There is one body and one Spirit, just as you were called to the one hope of your calling, one Lord, one faith, one baptism, one God and Father of all, who is above all and through all and in all.”  There is one body.  I beg you:  lead a life worthy of the calling to which you have been called.  Amen.

[i] “Every Religion Protects Women, Protecting Women Is Religion,” https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=D51_GQqVfSk, July 21, 2014, as found on July 30, 2015.

[ii] Eleazar S. Fernandez, “Theological Perspective,” Feasting on the Word, Supplemental Essays, Yr. B (Louisville:  Westminster John Knox Press, 2012), 9.

[iii] N. T. Wright, Paul for Everyone:  The Prison Letters (Louisville:  Westminster John Knox Press, 2004), 43.

[iv] Lloyd H. Steffan, “On Honesty and Self-Deception:  ‘You Are the Man’,” Christian Century, vol. 104, no. 14, April 29, 1987, 405.

[v] Carol J. Dempsey, OP, “Exegetical Perspective,” Feasting on the Word, Supplemental Essays, Yr. B (Louisville:  Westminster John Knox Press, 2012), 10.

[vi] Kathleen A. Robertson Farmer, “Exegetical Perspective,” Feasting on the Word, Supplemental Essays, Yr. B (Louisville:  Westminster John Knox Press, 2012), 6.

Sermon – Mark 5.21-43, P8, YB, June 28, 2015

Tags

baptism, Christ, communion, community, doubt, faith, God, hemorrhaging woman, Jairus' daughter, Jesus, powerful, saints, strong, weakness, witness, women

Today we are surrounded by some powerful women.  Many of you do not know Charlotte and Piper, who we are baptizing today, but they came into the world fighting.  While they were in the womb, their lives were threatened.  Doctors were able to operate in the womb at twenty-one weeks to ensure their survival.  Despite that help, they were born early and very tiny, but amazingly, had to have very little medical support.  Once they gained weight, they were able to come home and enjoy a healthy infancy.  My guess is that the strength these two children of God harnessed is what has pulled them through – a strength that their parents might regret when they hit their teenage years!

When we baptize Charlotte and Piper, we will baptize them into a communion full of strong saints – women who have paved the road before them, who have shown great faithfulness and strength, and who will serve as mentors and guides in their earthly pilgrimage.  We meet a couple of those women today.  First we meet Jairus’ daughter through her father.  Now, we might not think of her as a strong woman, since she is near death, but this young woman was powerful nonetheless.  She evokes such devotion in her father that he, a synagogue leader, is willing to bow down to the controversial Jesus and beg for healing for his dying daughter.  Jairus’ love for this powerful young woman made him willing to cross boundaries, to show vulnerability, and put great faith in Jesus.  We also know that Jairus’ daughter is twelve, about the age that women start menstruating, making them capable of producing life – one of the most powerful gifts of nature.  Though she is at death’s door, her power as a woman and as an individual bring people like Jesus to her, so that she might be restored to wholeness of life.

Of course, we also meet another strong woman today.  By all accounts, this woman should not have been strong.  In those days, menstruation alone meant that women had to be separated from the community for a period of time for ritual impurity.  But to have been bleeding for twelve years means that this woman has been ostracized from others for as long as Jairus’ daughter has been alive.  Furthermore, she spent all her money trying to obtain healing from doctors.  Her poverty and her impurity make her a double outcast.[i]  But this woman will not quit.  She boldly steps into a crowd (likely touching many people that she ritually should not) and she grabs on to Jesus’ clothing, knowing that simply by touching Jesus she can be healed.  She does not ask Jesus to heal her or mildly whisper among the crowds, “Excuse me Jesus, could you please heal me?”  No, she takes matters into her own hands, and though Jesus demands to speak with her, her own determination and faith make her whole.

In many ways, the baptism that we witness today is a same expression of strength and faith.  When we are baptized, we (or in the case of infants our parents and godparents) boldly claim the life of faith.  We renounce the forces of evil and we rejoice in the goodness of God.  We promise to live our life seeking and serving Christ, honoring dignity in others, and sharing Christ in the world.  This action is not a meek or mild one.  This action is an action of boldness – one in which we stand before the waters of baptism, and stake our claim in resurrection life.

Now, here’s the good news:  even though we are surrounded by powerful women today and we are doing and saying powerful things, we do not always have to be strong.  All the women we honor today are strong – but they have moments of weakness too.[ii]  I am sure over the course of twelve years, the hemorrhaging woman has doubts.  As bold as she is today, I am sure there are moments when she fears – maybe even that day – whether she could really reach out and claim Jesus’ power as her own.  And as Jairus’ daughter feels the life fade from her, I am sure she doubts.  I am sure she wonders whether she will ever be able to claim the life-force that is budding inside of her or to live a long life honoring her parents.  And though Charlotte and Piper have been warriors thus far in life, they will both have their own doubts and weaknesses.  In fact, that is why we as a congregation today promise that we will do all in our power to support them in their life in Christ.  That is why her parents and godparents promise by their prayers and witness to help them grow into the full stature of Christ.  That is the good news today.  For all the moments of strength that we honor in one another, we also honor the doubts, fears, and weaknesses.  God is with us then too, and gives us the community of faith to keep us stable until we can be strong witnesses again.  Amen.

[i] Mark D. W. Edington, “Theological Perspective,” Feasting on the Word, Yr. B, Vol. 2 (Louisville:  Westminster John Knox Press, 2009), 190.

[ii] David Lose, “Come As You Are,” June 24, 2012 at https://www.workingpreacher.org/craft.aspx?post=1493 found on June 25, 2015.

Homily – Exodus 1.15-21, Matthew 5.13-16, Emily Malbone Morgan, February 26, 2015

Tags

Emily Malbone Morgan, equality, homily, Jesus, Martha, Mary, power, Puah, role, Shiphrah, Society of the Companions of the Holy Cross, strong, women

Today we honor Emily Malbone Morgan, founder of the Society of the Companions of the Holy Cross.  Born in 1862 in Hartford, Connecticut, Morgan came from a prominent family with deep Anglican roots.  Through a friendship with a homebound friend who looked to Morgan for spiritual companionship, Morgan began to gather a small group of women for prayer and companionship; this group evolved into the Society of the Companions of the Holy Cross.  Morgan worried about working women who were tired and restless but had little hope for a vacation.  She formed summer vacation homes for the working women and their daughters for physical and spirit renewal.  She also formed a permanent home in Massachusetts, which is still the headquarters and retreat center for the Society.  Today the SCHC has 31 chapters and over 700 Companions in six countries.  The Society lives a life of prayer and contemplation rooted in tradition and has led to commitments to social justice for women.

What I love about Morgan is that she comes from a long line of strong women.  We hear about some of these women in scripture today.  First we hear of Shiphrah and Puah, the midwives who clearly disobeyed the king and saved many children.  Then we hear of Martha and Mary, who both witness to the full and complete spectrum of the ways women participate in the life of faith.  What I love about all three sets of women is that they boldly lived into their faith, sometimes taking on risks, thinking outside the box, and ultimately shaking up expectations of what men and women can do.

These last couple of years, the issue of the way women are treated around the world has become a hot issue.  Wage discrepancies, and susceptibility to violence, oppression and societal limitations have all come under criticism.  As legislation around women’s bodies arises, many women have fought back.  What I love about our lessons today is that both God and Jesus praise the women who step out to seize power and equality.

For the midwives, Shiprah and Puah, God rewards them for their loyalty and bravery.  For Mary, Jesus praises her for taking what was usually only given to men – the privilege of sitting and listening.  Today our lessons and Morgan’s witness invite us to consider our own role in inequality and God’s invitation to be an agent of change.  Amen.

Male and female, God created them…

Tags

Christian, created, creation, domestic violence, female, God, male, sexual assault, stewards, women

Courtesy of http://guardianlv.com/2014/03/sexual-assault-statistics-and-protection/

I have been thinking a lot these last couple of weeks about violence against women.  As college students have been moving onto campuses across the country, stories have been emerging about how campuses are handling sexual assault prevention.  One story has been catching attention about a woman protesting the handling of her rape case by carrying around a mattress on campus.  I also listened to a story on NPR as students debated about effective prevention methods.  Those stories made me realize how far we have to go on understanding culpability and protection.

Then, over the course of this week, the conversation about Ray Rice has been in the forefront.  Though the footage of his attack on his then fiancée is horrendous, what the footage has highlighted for me is how desensitized we have become when we talk about domestic violence.  Domestic violence has become an issue we talk about, but for many, not an issue for which we have a real, visceral understanding and sympathy.  The conversation and hashtag campaign, #whyIstayed, about why women stay in abusive relationships has enabled us to see how murky this issue really is.

Then today, my friend also shared a video from a non-profit in Atlanta that supports victims of domestic violence.  What caught my attention in the video was a statement from a volunteer from the agency.  He says, “It’s important for men to be involved in this work because we are both the cause of, and I believe the solution to, ending violence against women.”  His statement is one of the boldest statements I have heard about the responsibility to end violence against women, especially from a man.  But I would modify his statement.  I think we all have a stake in ending violence against women.

In Genesis, the text says, “God created humankind in God’s image, in the image of God, God created them; male and female God created them.”  Though we cannot erase the systems of power and patriarchy in our world, we can work toward reclaiming the fact that we are all created in the image of God – male and female.  God created us and blessed us, and I believe God longs for us to love and protect one another equally.  I know this is loaded blog entry, on a very complex issue that I could talk about and we could argue about for a very long time.  But I find myself this week mourning the ways in which we degrade God’s creation – in particular women.  I believe the confluence of events lately is not an accident, but an invitation to remember how God created us in God’s image – male and female; and perhaps an invitation to be better stewards of God’s creation, in whatever ways feel most compelling to you.