I’m trying to come in an hour earlier every morning this week, at 8 am, to make up for the half day I’m going to take on Friday to fly home for my sister’s graduation. This morning, getting up at 6:30 am was especially hard. I did it, though, and proceeded to get ready. It was only when I got in the kitchen to make breakfast that I realized my alarm clock was wrong—I had actually awakened at 5:30 am!! I debated just going into work extra early, and then decided that my sanity was more important. I went back to bed and slept for another 45 minutes.

Things like that always happen the day after three-day weekends, though. Either you do something like I just did, or you oversleep by an hour and get in late for work. And then it always feels like Monday rather than Tuesday… your whole week is off-balance. Still, the holiday is worth it. As I promised, I spent most of the day in my pajamas cleaning. My mom and sister are coming to Kentucky in a week, and I want my apartment to be sparkling and spotless for them when they get here.

Do you know what today is? If you said the day after Memorial Day, you get a “C.” Technically correct, but an average answer. If you said Brianne’s birthday, you get an “A-” (do drop her an e-mail through the NNPCW website)! And you get an “A” if you remembered that today is the day before the Leadership Event registration deadline!!! Yes, my friends, today and tomorrow are the last days you can register for the NNPCW Leadership Event, “Many Hands, One Spirit: Confronting Prejudice Through Education and Social Action,” at the $200 registration fee.

Some of you may be hesitating to register, wondering if you’ll have the funds to come. I would encourage you to register and apply for financial aid. We’ve never turned away a student because of lack of money, and there are lots of ways to raise funds that you may have failed to consider. If money is preventing you from coming to the event, please just give me a call and we’ll work it out.

You won’t want to miss this conference. We have great speakers and workshop leaders, awesome site visits to Chicago-area social agencies, and a chance to meet with women from around the country. Check out more info on our website at www.pcusa.org/nnpcw/involved/events/2005.htm.

“Upon you I have leaned from my birth; it was you who took me from my mother’s womb. My praise is continually of you.” --Psalm 71:6

Kelsey

Good morning! It is a lovely Memorial Day here in Louisville, I must say. But I don’t think I’ll be playing much in it. I have a whole lot to do in preparation for my family’s visit to Kentucky next week. I think I’ll end up spending most of the day in my pajamas, scrubbing down the bathroom floor. Isn’t that what holidays are for in the real world?

As most of you know, today is a time of remembrance for those who have died—kind of like Mexico’s Dia del Muerte, except not nearly as colorful. Actually, Memorial Day is martial in its origins. The first celebrations were held in the late 1860s to honor fallen Civil War soldiers. At that time, it was known as Decoration Day, because people decorated the graves of the soldiers (a tradition, I’ve noticed, still observed in the rural South—my great-grandparents’ graves have huge silk floral displays on them, year-round). The holiday expanded to encompass all those who had died in American wars following World War I, and Congress declared it a national holiday in 1971. Interestingly enough, I found that several Southern states have their own separate Memorial Day observances for Confederate soldiers.

But for many of us, Memorial Day isn’t about troops and soldiers. For my family and others, it is a time to remember all who have gone before us. Since my father died, our family has spent Memorial Day driving up and down the Wenatchee Valley to leave flowers at various gravesites. Some are for great-grandparents, others for relatives who died far too young. My grandparents all come up with us to see Dad, and to leave large flower pots with him (Grandpa Bruce actually came up with quite an ingenious way of nailing them into the ground so they wouldn’t tip over).

This might strike some people as a bit over-the-top, a damper on what most Americans consider a fun weekend off of work. Respectfully, I would disagree. We don’t spend enough time remembering the lives of those who are gone. Like our senior citizens, our society tends to push our dead off into the margins of the mind, to avoid facing our own mortality. Yet when it comes right down to it, wouldn’t we all like to be remembered by someone when our time comes?

I can’t put flowers at my father’s grave in Washington anymore. But I can take a small moment out of my fun weekend to remember him: his shy smile and quiet presence, the way he made salsa and deer jerky and strawberry jam “just because,” his insistence that we keep the lawn mowed. I remember the integrity with which he lived—when he died, no one could honestly recall him ever saying an unkind or spiteful thing to another person. He was always the first to help you move in or out of a new house, the peacemaker in a home full of stormy women. He wasn’t a saint (he did think it was funny to toss rocks at the cat and scare her). But he was one of the best people I’ve ever known.

“But we do not want you to be uninformed, brothers and sisters, about those who have died, so that you may not grieve as others do who have no hope. For since we believe that Jesus died and rose again, even so, through Jesus, God will bring with God those who have died.” --1 Thessalonians 4:13-14

Kelsey

Right before lunch, I read a New York Times article entitled “On a Christian Mission to the Top.” The article discusses the increasing wealth and social power of evangelical Christians, symbolized by their recent fervor for proselytizing that bastion of the wealthy secular establishment, the Ivy League. Evangelicals, it seems, are no longer the poor and disenfranchised—they now rival mainline Protestants like Presbyterians, Episcopalians, and Methodists in their ability to put money behind their values. And they are putting money into the Ivies, where the next generation of the elite is emerging.

In past posts, I’ve alluded to my own connections to evangelical Christianity. I was raised in a Pentecostal denomination, and went to a college whose student body largely consisted of evangelicals. My ancestors joined the Pentecostal movement when its main adherents were the poor—my mother’s family hails from eastern Tennessee, in the heart of rural Appalachia.

I have a huge respect for what that strain of Christianity gave my family, for it spoke their language in a way that the mainline Protestant elite could not. When the wealthy sent their children into the coal mines and stripped their land, the Church of God told these poverty-stricken people that God did see them, did love them, would give them a reward in heaven if they lived for Jesus. The power and hope of that message still lingers in my own faith journey, even when I do not identify with aspects of that tradition.

So I wonder about this upward mobility in evangelical Christianity, this attempt to forge a beachhead in the Establishment. As evangelicals move up in their earning power, will they fall into the trap that so many Christians before them succumbed to? Will they forget their roots in the experience of the marginalized and instead emphasize dogmas that fail to speak to those most in need? Will they become heady with power and forget the Gospel?

Historically, Christian faith has most thrived when it has been on the margins. Only there, with its very survival in question, has the gospel of Jesus Christ spoken with crystal clarity to the world. The Roman government’s martyrdom of early Christians only encouraged those who responded to the message. We hear of the amazing growth of house churches in China. And among the poor, the concept of a born-again, personal relationship with a Jesus who suffered speaks volumes to those who experience alienation at the hands of the Establishment.

All of us, whether we consider ourselves progressive mainliners, evangelicals, or something in between, need to consider our relationship to the powerful. Are we on the margins? Are we talking about the God who loves all of us, the God for whom the last shall be first and the first last? Are we placidly part of the institution, or are we speaking prophetically to it?

And perhaps the most intriguing question of all: what does it mean to be countercultural? According to the New York Times article, countercultural is to eschew kissing your girlfriend until you ask her to marry you. Some of our hippie friends would say it is to smoke lots of pot and rag on the government. But do either of those constructively challenge human beings to rise above the cycles of violence and greed that define us, to live into a truly Christ-centered vision of all people in shalom?

So the evangelical movement will win the Ivy League for Christ. I sincerely hope it doesn’t lose its own soul in the process.

“He said also to the one who had invited him, ‘When you give a luncheon or a dinner, do not invite your friends or your brothers or your relatives or rich neighbors, in case they may invite you in return, and you would be repaid. But when you give a banquet, invite the poor, the crippled, the lame, and the blind. And you will be blessed, because they cannot repay you, for you will be repaid at the resurrection of the righteous.’” --Luke 14:12-14

Kelsey

It has been such a long time since I chatted with you all… I’ve become so used to writing, rain or shine, vacation or work trip, that it was strange to go for more than a weekend without posting on the blog. You missed a lot of softball news while I was gone—a forfeit by Westport Road Baptist Church’s softball team Tuesday (now 0-3) and my sister’s team heading to the district tournament today. Rachel got an honorable mention in the all-league team voting, too.

You also missed an awesome conference. I spent the beginning of this week at the Interfaith Worker Justice conference in Chicago with NNPCW alumna Ann Crews Melton. I’ve mentioned IWJ on the blog before, and have also said that we will work with them at the Leadership Event this summer. Ann and I went partly because the Office of Urban Ministry was paying our way, and also because we saw a few workshops we wanted to attend.

The trip was well worth it. This conference was perhaps the most useful religious-affiliated conference I’ve ever been to. I attended workshops on religious women as activists, fundraising, and grantwriting. Ann learned how to start a 501(c)3 non-profit. We learned real skills that we can use in our work, and got to meet great people in the process.

I also attended my first “protest,” if you will. Those of you who know me know that even when I don’t agree with authorities, anything that could even be construed as rebellious makes me slightly nervous. So I must say that the butterflies did come up when we headed off in the buses to La Casa Del Pueblo, a grocery store in the Pilsen neighborhood of Chicago, to rally for the grocery workers’ right to organize. It was actually kind of fun, though—we chanted “No justice, no peace,” sang gospel spirituals, prayed for the workers and the owners of the grocery store, and heard speeches. And no, we did not chain ourselves to pipes or get arrested. We were a very tame crowd, really—not at all like what I’d imagined when I thought of such things.

The conference, with its emphasis on partnerships between religious groups and the labor movement, actually put me in touch with my roots a bit. My own father, before he died, was a union member, as was my mom until recently. So I don’t visualize some troublemaking, leftist radical or mob boss when I hear the words “union” and “labor.” Rather, I think of my rather mild-mannered father, who had a decent union job in an aluminum plant for 20 years.

Learning about struggles other workers in this country face, such as those at La Casa Del Pueblo grocery store, reminded me how much I owe to that union job. For my family, the union truly did give us a better life—a life with enough for food and clothes, a life with healthcare, a life with retirement and pension plans. My grandparents grew up among the rural poor, and I have a college education. The difference lies in two things: their hard work, and the opportunities provided by union jobs that launched my family into the middle class. Spending the weekend talking about human dignity for workers, and our responsibility as people of faith to advocate for that, helped me to understand this in a more real and vital way.

“Thus says the Lord of hosts: Render true judgments, show kindness and mercy to one another; do not oppress the widow, the orphan, the alien, or the poor; and do not devise evil in your hearts against one another.” --Zechariah 7:9-10

Kelsey

Last day you’ll here from me in a while, at least until June 6th when Kelsey has to go out of town again.

It is my mom’s birthday today; she gets to go to a Cubs baseball game, not fair! Mine is this coming Tuesday and my sisters is coming up on June 10th (she will be 21, finally)! I always love birthdays and the end of springtime. I love this time of year, prefect weather, things are finally alive and growing, the smell of grass being cut on the weekends, all good things.

Other than that, there is not much else going on around here. Gusti is cleaning out and organizing the library, so there are plenty of free, great books that will keep me occupied at home since there is still no cable and I am out of Sex and the City episodes to watch. I have even watched the director’s commentary on all of the episodes.

I feel like a real worker-bee this week. I am still putting the finishing touches on the REYWT brochure for the November retreat. Those will be going out next week. I think they look pretty good if I do say so myself. Thank goodness Lisa has been here to help me with everything this week, she is a lifesaver.

Next big thing to work on is the pre-conference packet for the NNPCW retreat coming up in July! I was looking last night for articles or readings that I might have in my collection to go with the theme of confronting prejudice with education then taking action. I found a couple in, Gender Through the Prism of Difference. It is a collection of articles that I had to read for my first Gender Studies class that I took at Indiana University. I will have to check and see with Kelsey what she wanted to use.

Paul’s Letter to the Philippians 1:9-11
“This is my prayer, that your love may overflow more and more with knowledge and full insight to help you to determine what is best, so that in the day of Christ you may be pure and blameless, having produced the harvest of righteousness that comes through Jesus Christ for the glory and praise of God.”

Grace and Peace,
Brianne

Morning all!
Again, this is Brianne, NNPCW & REYWT intern, guest blogging for Kelsey while she is out.

So, I decided to re-read, The DiVinci Code, by Dan Brown these past 2 days. I currently do not have cable so I have resorted to watching my entire collection of Sex and the City and all of the rest of my DVD and VHS collection. My next idea, for free fun in Louisville, is to get my Jefferson County library card. I haven’t been this free with my reading since high school, and even then I was cramming in time here and there and staying up way to late.

I do not have a particular “stance” on the entire idea of the book. If you haven’t read it, I am not sure if I am ruining it for you or not, try and fit it in. Basically, it is a quest for the Holy Grail. And before you run out and say, “We are the knights that say, NE!” (for all you Monty Python lovers out there) let me assure you that I do not like murder or mystery themes at all. I heard it was a well-written book, and everyone was talking about it, so I picked it up.

As far as my ‘stance’ on the idea of Jesus’ lineage, what the grail truly is, and if the Catholic Church is hiding it, I think that is all fun and worth the read. My true position comes when they state, “Jesus was the first feminist”. Wow, I was excited when I read that line. On [www.now.org] the National Organization for Women, one of their shirts states that, “A man of quality is not threatened by a woman for equality”. I think that Jesus would have worn that shirt. He was all for standing up for women, (Luke 10:38-42) and (John 8:3-10) are just a couple of examples that I like.

Can we trace feminist thought back 2000 years? And, that it all started with (dare I say it, gulp) a man?

Matthew 11:28 “Come to me, all of you that are weary and are caring heavy burdens and, I will give you rest.”

Grace and Peace,
Brianne

Hi all,
This is my first time blogging so we will see how this goes. Because so far it has not gone so well, after working on my guest blog for about a half hour to get you all acquainted with myself I go to post and it erases my work. So, being the smart and talented woman that I am I have decided to type in Microsoft Word and then copy and paste, in case this decides to delete my hard work…again!

Who is this rambling, incoherent person that has taken over Kelsey’s computer you ask? Why it is me, the new intern for NNPCW and the REYWT (Racial Ethnic Young Women Together) programs, Brianne Jurs. I will be guest blogging for Kelsey when she is out of the office (unless I am not here as well, obviously) for the next year or so.

I grew up in the Northwest corner of Indiana, commonly referred to by Hoosiers as “The Region”. My small, rural, farming community was 60 minutes Southeast of downtown Chicago, IL and 60 minutes North of Lafayette, Indiana (home of the ‘other’ university). My dad works for a local farmer and my mom is a computer technician for one of the local elementary schools. My sister, Ashley, will be starting her senior year at Ball State in Muncie, Indiana this fall.

I have lived the past 6 years in Bloomington, Indiana. The first 4 were to attend Indiana University for an undergraduate degree in Social and Behavioral Sciences with primary focus on Gender Studies and Sociology. The past 2 years have been spent working at a restaurant as a server, a nursery school as an administrative assistant, and in retail (not all at once, but some simultaneously).

I came across this position while realizing that seminary was in the future, but not quite at this moment in my life. Sooner or later I will go when God tells me when the time is right. My ex-roommate from Bloomington used to tell me, “You are right now, exactly, where God wants you to be.” Trust is a hard thing when there is nothing much to hold on to. I just try and remember:

Psalms 16:11
“You show me the path of life. In your presence there is fullness and joy; in your right hand are pleasures forevermore.”

Grace and Love,
Brianne

I’m home today, preparing for a retreat with Brianne to complete her initial orientation to REYWT and NNPCW. Okay, so maybe I haven’t been preparing too much yet—but I did take a GRE practice test this morning and did pretty well (please, everyone, note the time—I woke up at 6:30 am to do this before work). I have nicknamed the GRE the “grrrrr.” I think it is an apt description. Wednesday is my test date, so send some affirming and mathematical thoughts my way. Maybe they’ll stick in my brain when I take the test.

I’m going to kill two birds with one stone, and write this morning’s devotional activity here before doing it with Brianne. The passage I chose for devotion this morning is from a tried-and-true book the office owns, Women at the Well: Meditations on Healing and Wholeness, edited by Mary L. Mild. The title is “A New Beginning,” and it illustrates the topic using the Genesis passage on Noah's ark. The author points out that Noah didn’t step off the ark onto pristine land—it probably looked more like those images we saw from Florida last year after the hurricanes hit.

When we start out anew, the beginning isn’t necessarily fresh or clean. When I graduated from college, for example, I moved from Washington to take my current job. It did have that sense of a “fresh start” or a “new beginning”—I even bought a Ford Mustang as a symbol of my new life. But looking back, it wasn’t a break with the past. There were (and are) still old hurts to be dealt with in my life from other endings. There was the family I left behind, who still pines for me to return home. There was the risk of stepping out and not knowing what I would find in the inchoate mud of a new life.

But the author of this passage says that when I commit to something new, “I risk losing control; I give up attempting to control that which I do not want to face—the unknown. Instead, I rely on God, who knows my footsteps even before I step off the boat into the mud and a new beginning.” Life is a series of beginnings, endings, and new beginnings, until the final end. But we can step out of the ark, knowing that we walk in the shadow of the Holy Spirit.

If you’re so inclined, light a candle in your room (unless fire codes prevent this in your dorm!). Take out a sheet of paper now and express your uncertainties about the future on it (this can be in words, pictures, or whatever creative way you choose to express yourself). Then stick the paper in the flame, trusting that the fire leading you today is the same fire that led the children of Israel out of Egypt, the fire that led the apostles to boldly witness to the Gospel on the day of Pentecost.

As you end in prayer, remember that God’s steadfast love endures. Everything will be okay.

“As for me, I am establishing my covenant with you and your descendants after you.” --Genesis 9:9

Kelsey

For those of you eagerly following the adventures of Wesport Road Baptist Church’s softball team, we played another game last night. Now, those folks from Watkins Methodist cat hit. We lost 19-0, or something like that. I played left field for the first time since Little League. Maybe I had more energy back then or something, because I didn’t remember running that much the last time I was out there. We actually had nine players, though, which is a step up from the first week.

I’m going on the road again this weekend, but only for a few days. Chicago is my destination this time, for the Interfaith Worker Justice conference. There I’m looking forward to learning about fundraising for non-profits (a valuable skill indeed, in my line of work), Wal-Mart, and other aspects of activism. I will also build contacts with Interfaith Worker Justice, one of the four social agencies that participants at the NNPCW Leadership Event this summer will be able to visit. Plus, I’ll see my pal Kurt, who is infamous in national Presbyterian circles as the guy from Midland, TX with the funky accent, the flaming, shoulder-length red hair, and a love for Scandinavian death metal. Good times for all, I can assure you.

Interfaith Worker Justice is a national organization with ties to the Presbyterian Church (USA)’s Office of Urban Ministry. Since 1996, this organization has worked with religious communities to improve wages, benefits, and working conditions for all workers, particularly low-income workers. The PC(USA) has a history of working with such organizations that has been well-documented on this blog (check out some early archived posts, where I highlighted the successful Taco Bell Boycott). This is, in my opinion, the church at its best.

Why do we, as a church, get involved in such issues, though? When I was growing up, I saw church an otherworldly realm, somewhat divorced from the world. As Christians, we separated from the world in order to remain pure. Yet Presbyterians are Reformed, meaning we really like that John Calvin guy. And for Calvin, Christians were to actively engage the world in dialogue, challenging it as we all moved closer toward what God intended for creation.

More than anything else, perhaps, this idea attracted me theologically to the Presbyterian tradition. At their best, Presbyterians (and other churches as well—I don’t mean to be exclusive here) meet the world head on, working to bring the Good News of God’s healing grace and God’s relevant justice to broken humanity. We get involved because we honestly believe that this is how God calls us to show that we are Christian.

So off I go to the Interfaith Worker Justice conference, hoping that it will better equip me to engage the world as a Christian.

“It is unthinkable that God would do wrong, that the Almighty would pervert justice.” --Job 34:12

Kelsey

Guess what’s coming out tonight???? Unless you’ve been sleeping under a rock for the past week or so, you probably know that the final film of the Star Wars movies, Revenge of the Sith, is coming to your local theater. Now, you may not believe it, but in my youth I was a crazed Star Wars fan. I did not wear costumes, but I did subscribe to the Star Wars Insider in high school.

Being somewhat knowledgeable in this topic, I feel qualified to give you my opinion of the prequel set (which I can do, given that the General Assembly has not yet developed an opinion on Star Wars that I would be contradicting in my role as a staff person). Basically, my judgment on the first two can be summed up by saying that they were “a grave disappointment” (or in slightly less delicate language, they stunk). The plot was too diffuse, the dialogue too insipid. I still own both films on VHS, though. Go figure.

This doesn’t mean I won’t spend my hard-earned dollars from working for you all to go see the third one this weekend. Unlike in college, where I studied for a final all the way up to the midnight showing on Episode II, I will not attend tonight’s show. I have to be responsible now. The plan, though, is to go on Saturday morning, when hopefully I can get some tickets.

Now why, you wonder, should you bother seeing this film when the others have been so bad? One, because it is a cultural phenomenon. Just as reading novels by Dickens was a mark of the 19th century Victorian middle class, seeing a movie like Star Wars is something that we share in our collective consciousness. We all know, for instance, that Darth Vader is Luke’s father, or what a Wookie is. The allusions are something we share and can go back to as a point of reference.

I also do think the films as a whole, because of their archetypical themes, bring up interesting questions about sin, redemption, and salvation. Do we all have good in us, as Luke believes about his father, even when it is buried beneath the massive horrors of our own tragic hubris? Does grace, essential to Protestant teaching about God’s forgiveness, play into Anakin Skywalker’s redemption? Or does the film reflect more of an American perspective on redemption, that “God helps those who help themselves”—or at least help their children when they’re about to be electrocuted by a psychomaniac?

Hmmm… the film does point to one essential Christian doctrine, however. Even the enormousness of our own sin cannot preclude us from redemption, or separate us from God’s love. That alone makes the series worth watching for me.

“For I am convinced that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor rulers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.” --Romans 8:39-40

Kelsey

Readers of the blog have recently brought it to my attention that, while I talk extensively about people in my life in some posts, I quite frequently tend to omit a certain “other” from my stories. While this slight is somewhat intentional (I don’t want you knowing everything there is to know about my personal life), it does not follow that David plays an insignificant role in my life. In fact, he has inspired several previous posts, and today’s post is courtesy of an article he forwarded me this morning. Such a good panda, he is.

It seems that the women of Kuwait have finally won the right to vote. Although conservatives in the government opposed the measure strongly, the reform-minded government pushed it through by a 35-23 majority. Celebrations have ensued, with people dancing and lighting fireworks into the night sky. One woman, Badria Darwish, said, "Let's enjoy this moment and then contemplate a better future for our country and kids. We are now the decision-makers of our future along with men, for a change.”

I am always struck by the strong voices of our sisters around the world, especially when contrasted with our own relative silence as Americans. The article cites the United States as one of the driving forces behind the reforms in the Kuwaiti government. Yet our own government still refuses to ratify the Convention to Eliminate All Forms of Discrimination Against Women (CEDAW), a United Nations treaty in effect since 1979 that has been ratified by 175 other nations.

And that’s not the only thing left to be done for women. What about paid maternity leave for families (one of the mandates that prevents the U.S. from ratifying CEDAW)? What about the increasing feminization of poverty, worldwide and in our own backyards? What about the double discrimination women of color have to face because of both race and gender? What about the fact that our country is half women, and yet Iraq has a higher percentage of women in its new representative government (31%) than we do as the world’s oldest continuous democracy (roughly 19%, or 82 women out of 438 seats)? What is going on here?

We applaud victories by Kuwait and other women around the world to secure equal rights in their home countries, and for them, the inequities are much more stark. But why have we ceased to work for such victories at home?

Perhaps young women have heard too many women who work for change called “femi-Nazis” and worse. Perhaps we don’t see our lives as being directly affected, as the lives of Kuwaiti women are. Perhaps we just don’t want to live lives of constant struggle against the powerful, especially when we’re personally doing okay.

But is that really living out what Christ calls us to?

“One night the Lord said to Paul in a vision, ‘Do not be afraid, but speak, and do not be silent; for I am with you, and no one will lay a hand on you to harm you, for there are many people in this city who are my people.’” --Acts 18:9-10

Kelsey

Those of you who are mainline Protestants, Catholics, or Orthodox folks may know that yesterday was the Day of Pentecost—the birthday of the Church. Despite the fact that I went to a Pentecostal church growing up, we never celebrated Pentecost in our aversion to the liturgical calendar. So I’m still not used to marking the holiday. In fact, I wouldn’t have worn red to church yesterday unless NNPCW alumna Amy Robinson (my roommate) had informed me that we were all supposed to wear red or orange in celebration. Amy, in fact, painted flames on her cheeks. I wouldn’t know a quarter of the things I do about being Presbyterian if it weren’t for Amy.

I used to somewhat avoid Acts 2 as a youth, mainly because speaking in tongues scared me (from my Pentecostal days). Yesterday, though, I saw something different in the passage. The following drew me:

“And at this sound the crowd gathered and was bewildered, because each one heard them speaking in the native language of each. Amazed and astonished, they asked, ‘Are not all these who are speaking Galileans?” (Acts 2:6-7).

Pentecost is more than just the story of a great miracle. It is the natural extension of Jesus’ radically inclusive ministry. For at Pentecost, God empowers a bunch of sheltered, insular people from the backwater of Galilee to speak with relevance to Jews from all over the Roman world. Through the Holy Spirit, women and men in the upper room (and if you don’t think there were female participants in Pentecost, check out Acts 1:14 and 2:4) broke through the barriers of culture, race and gender to speak the “language” of all people. As in so many other places in the New Testament, God broke down the dividing walls constructed by flawed humans and spoke words of love to all.

So we’re a bunch of sheltered American college women, trying to witness to God’s love in a way that is relevant to the world. How do we do it? One lesson we can gather from the Pentecost story: only the Spirit can empower us. On our own, it is difficult to escape the social contexts that impede our ministry to others. We have no concept of the realities of others’ lives—why do you think that two millennia of church teachings, written by men and affirming the superiority of men, are so problematic for 21st century women? Yet it is by the grace of God that aspects of the church have managed to speak to us, and we find nourishment there. Somehow, the Holy Spirit spoke through those Galileans to touch our lives.

As we continue to follow the promptings of the Spirit, we too are empowered toward new visions of the church and new ways to reach out to our sisters and brothers. It may lead us to challenge our own privilege in the world, or it may cause us to embrace those we have marginalized. But hearing the Holy Spirit in the quiet of our hearts is the first step.

“For the promise is for you, for your children, and for all who are far away, everyone whom the Lord our God calls.” --Acts 2:39

Kelsey

I’m sorry the blog is late today—I’m preparing for the arrival of our new intern on Monday! Yes, after three months as the only person in Young Women’s Ministries, reinforcements are finally on the way. The curse is lifted! Brianne Jurs starts next week as the Young Women’s Ministries intern.

So who is Brianne Jurs? It’s a surprise. Perhaps next week she will make a guest appearance on the blog to tell you a bit about herself. I’m already thinking that she’ll be the guest blogger while I’m gone on vacation next month. I’ll be out of the office for a couple of momentous occasions—my sister’s high school graduation at the beginning of the month, and a vacation to Hungary and Romania later on. I’m attending a wedding in Translyvania, the home of Count Dracula. Perhaps I’ll read the book before I leave. I think the book is actually set in London, though, so it won’t help me much in envisioning my destination.

Okay, back to Brianne. I will say that Brianne has a degree in social and behavioral sciences from Indiana University in Bloomington, Indiana. Better yet, her minors were in gender studies and sociology. She has been working in Bloomington since she graduated in 2003, which is a relatively short hop from Louisville (hence her ability to start so early). I’ll leave the rest for Brianne to share later.

Brianne’s responsibilities will include working with both the Coordinating Committee for NNPCW and the Core Group for REYWT. She will also be responsible for many of the communications coming out of our offices. Sadly, the Spring 2005 issue of Sisters Together (which you can read online at www.pcusa.org/nnpcw/newsletter/index.htm) was my last as editor—it’s her baby now! Finally, Brianne will be the first contact person for those of you just joining NNPCW or REYWT. She will make sure you’re welcomed into the fold.

While Brianne doesn’t yet have a Presbyterian Church e-mail account, we will have a link for it online when we get it. After Tuesday or so, feel free to send her a welcome note. If you can’t wait for that, pass any notes on to me and I’ll give them to her when she comes. Join me in enthusiastically welcoming Brianne to the Network and REYWT!

“The Lord is merciful and gracious, slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love.” --Psalm 103:8

Kelsey

Life in the Presbyterian Center is strange sometimes (but good! That’s why you should work here… check out www.pcusa.org/onedoor, hee hee). Today, for instance, is the staff picnic. Forget the loads of bureaucratic paperwork, the hierarchy that is corporate church—I never feel more like I’m working for “the man” than when I go to the annual all-staff picnic. I think my co-worker Ann wrote a paper on this phenomenon in college. The whole point of corporate picnics is to create a family feel, but it really consists of 500 people, who largely don’t know one another, awkwardly schmoozing for the free food. So I’m about to go off and get my face painted at the staff picnic. Maybe there will be horsie rides, too. But hey, I’m not one to question the wisdom of free food.

The conundrum of our fine Presbyterian system at work is the creation of a peculiar phenomenon—the church as corporation. When you all out there think of “the church,” you think of saintly people praying a lot, doing good works, and just generally sharing the love of God… uhh, maybe that's just me. But after nearly two years of working at the Presbyterian Center, I know better. Behind the church is the corporation—imagine the movie Office Space, but your boss prays with you before giving you the pink slip.

The corporate church is the system that allows all the rest of you to be saintly. We create the resources you use in Sunday School. We plan the awesome conferences you attend—and personally pick you up from the airport, too. We do the training for the missionaries spreading the Gospel in Honduras, and publicize opportunities for you to become missionaries yourselves. In general, we distribute the money you put in the offering plate for the benefit of the entire Presbyterian Church (USA).

Actually, I only distribute a very tiny portion of your money. The “guy upstairs” (no, not God, silly—some man on the 6th floor, I think) distributes the money to me. But one thing you should learn quickly in this world, my friends—where your treasure is, there your bureaucracy will be also. The money I get has all sorts of strings attached. This ranges from the funds our office has because some rich Presbyterian in 1850 willed her entire estate to support “young ladies’ benevolent societies” or something like that, to the money that depends solely on how much you all donated last Sunday when the offering plate came around.

So just like your big Fortune 500 companies, we live and die by paperwork that keeps track of how we’re spending your money. I just finished up filling out a twenty-five-page position profile that described my job in its entirety, and then filled another one out for the intern. I probably used five or six pages of the form just describing what I do every day. But hey, it’s all about documentation.

Before you get too cynical about the corporation we call the Presbyterian Church, though, remember this—the real and only difference between PC(USA) and any secular corporation is that the people in this building are truly seeking to live and follow the risen Christ in every action. We believe in God and we believe in our ministries, or we wouldn’t kill ourselves trying to do them through staff reductions, political frays, and reduced budgets. We know that our call is to partner with the Spirit in nourishing people’s deepest needs. And we know that, whether it seems apparent or otherwise, we sow mustard seeds that will grow tall and strong.

“Because we look not at what can be seen but at what cannot be seen; for what can be seen is temporary, but what cannot be seen is eternal.” --2 Corinthians 4:18

Kelsey

PS—I just got back from the staff picnic. No face painting, but we did have cotton candy and a guy on stilts! I also got a bunch of free stuff, so it was totally worth it. Special kudos on the potato salad.

Forget the Kentucky Derby, my friends, or University of Louisville basketball. Last night marked the beginning of the most cutthroat competition in the entire Louisville Metro area, the most anticipated sports season of all… church league softball. For those of you who think that my fastpitch superstar sister is the only athlete in the family, I beg to differ. My team, Westport Road Baptist Church (I’m still Presbyterian, though), played 1st Baptist Middletown at the Methodist church yesterday. Unfortunately, we lost 10-0. I was wounded in the effort, too—a throw from the first baseman to me at third came out of my glove and into the corner of my left eye. My makeup covers the redness pretty well, but I can feel the swelling today.

I actually really like church league, for a couple of reasons. First, I still love the game of softball after all these years. I grew up on the softball field, and evenings at third base evoke memories of watching dad play fastpitch, as well as years of practice and play of my own. The strand of softball connects people in my family, from my grandfather and father who were pitchers, on down to my sister the pitcher and me. For us, it is a common language of situations and strategies, a level on which we can relate across generations and life experiences.

Church league also brings a uniquely spiritual element into softball, one that goes beyond prayers before and after every game (which is kind of strange for me, considering that my high school teammates were more likely to lay out a string of curses after a game than a prayer). In two years of playing church league, my sense of being completely accepted for myself in God’s family is probably greater than it has been in many Sunday worship experiences throughout my life.

Okay, so that came off sounding bad, but let me explain. When I come in the door on Sunday morning, people introduce themselves to me. Do they remember my name later, though? Usually, no. Do I mean much to them beyond the generic fact that I’m a child of God? Let’s be honest—not really. When Melissa introduced herself to me last night, I remembered her name because she was the shortstop next to me. I needed her and she needed me if we were going to cover for the fact that we were playing shorthanded. The eight people on the field last night formed a community that had to work together for the survival of all.

Sometimes people in that community screwed up—I made several errors myself. What I’ve noticed in church league particularly, though, is that we tend to forgive one another for the miscues, even when they hurt the team. After hitting a ball down the line that resulted in an out, one of the other players still complimented my swing. The whole point of church league softball is to build one another up rather than tear one another down.

A final point in this little church softball/Body of Christ analogy is that we don’t choose our teammates. I met mine right before the game. We picked the spots we wanted to play, and then we began feeling one another out. In the course of the game, I learned that Adam has wheels, that Melissa brings good field awareness, and that Dave can whip it across the diamond (I have the shiner to prove it). We learn about one another along the way, compensate for our individual weaknesses, and put differences aside to work toward a goal.

Maybe the Body of Christ should spend some more time playing church league softball, where every single member is valued for her or his gifts to the team. And maybe more people should stop sitting the bench, and join in the game of serving God in the world with our sisters and brothers on the field. We need one another, regardless of whether we know it or not.

“Indeed, the body does not consist of one member but of many.” --1 Corinthians 12:14

Kelsey

In my search for a blog topic this morning, one particular subject struck my fancy—food stamps. I read an article stating that Congress is planning to target food stamps for cuts in federal funding in the new budget. Of course, these cuts will place more burden on charities to supply emergency food to the families that previously relied on food stamps to stave off hunger. Charities, of course, like your hometown church or your local soup kitchen.

One problem with this, though—your local charities don’t have money and food donations anymore. One charity in Utah was quoted as saying that “food donations have been flat for some time now.” Why? Because people like you and I (and yes, I am condemning myself here) aren’t really doing much to support our churches and charities financially or with our time. It is understandable, really. We’re busy people, working and slaving away for that hard-earned dollar to keep ourselves afloat. Many of us don’t have the time to share, and we don’t have the money to share, either, in these times of rising gas and food prices.

Now there are a few ways to look at this. We can criticize Congress for failing the two million senior citizens who are on food stamps, for instance. We can point to the extremely wealthy who fail to help, gorging on the glory their money buys while Lazarus lies covered in sores at their gates.

Or we can look at the planks in our own eyes. Perhaps the much-maligned welfare system that politicians attack has not created a slothful underclass, but has instead made the rest of us slothful. We assume that “someone else” is looking after the most needy in our society, whether that is Uncle Sam or the local soup kitchen. We don’t see how the actions of those bodies connect to us, though. We want to keep our tax dollars. We don’t want to give away our 10% in tithes to the church. We’re too busy to volunteer much.

In the extremely mobile and transitory lives of young adults, we’ve managed to lose the sense of community that has always supported those in need. Our bonds to the church and to local communities dissolve as we move from place to place, making it hard to see our connection to those in need around us. It isn’t “our” community anymore, and we’re not responsible for it.

Many of you volunteer in college for various causes, and that is encouraging. But it is time for all of us as young adults to engage, even beyond college. This means supporting social agencies and churches with both your time and your money. It means looking for new ways to help those in need. It means entering into community, with all its obligations and responsibilities. We are all members of the body of Christ, and Jesus commits our care to one another. In an increasingly global world, it is time for young adults to redefine community for themselves and become active participants in it.

“But God has so arranged the body, giving the greater honor to the inferior member, that there may be no dissension within the body, but the members may have the same care for one another.” --1 Corinthians 12:24b-25

Kelsey

Well, the 131st Kentucky Derby came and went last weekend, with 50-1 longshot Giacomo taking the garland of roses. It was the second-largest upset in Derby history in front of the race’s second largest crowd ever. And yes, I was there. Had I been fortunate enough to put a $2 bet down on Giacomo to win, I would have jubilantly been telling you that I was $100.60 richer this morning. Still, I’m happy for the plucky little horse. After all, he beat out New York Yankees owner George Steinbrenner’s horse, and it takes guts to blow past 10 other colts in the home stretch of the race to win. They’ll have to make a movie about him.

I hope you also remembered that yesterday was Mother’s Day. I called my mom and both my grandmothers, but I mailed my mom her card and gift too late for it to get there in time. My mom is always a bit sore anyway that I’m in Kentucky and not home with her in Washington on Mother’s Day. I’ll have to be more diligent next year.

Of course, yesterday’s church service honored all the mothers in the crowd, praising their efforts at a task commonly considered one of the hardest in our society. Mothers were lifted up for the variety of roles they’re asked to fill, the often-tedious tasks that they perform. For one day out of the year, Mom got her due.

Yet I began to wonder what it would mean to really honor our mothers on Mother’s Day. Does it mean buying my mom lunch on one day and then kicking back while she cooks for me the other 364 days of the year? Does it mean telling Mom she has the toughest job in the world and then doing absolutely nothing to make it easier? Does it mean telling her that her only value lies in what she did for me over the last 24 years?

Mom, I know you’ll read all this. I want you to know that I’m sorry for under-appreciating you all these years—not only by failing to acknowledge the sacrifices you made for me, but also for failing to see you as a person with needs, hopes, and dreams. You are a fantastic mother, yes. I would never want anyone else. You also have a wonderfully goofy sense of humor. You do beautiful handiwork around the house, from painting walls to installing crown molding to laying the wood on the kitchen floor. You’re one of the wisest, most insightful people I know. You can elevate the mood of an entire room simply by a word and a smile. And these skills and talents aren’t secondary to your role as my mother—they’re at the core of who you are.

And on those 364 other non-Mother’s Day days, I hope all of you will join with me in appreciating all mothers by making their work easier. If that means cleaning the house when you’re home for the weekend, then do it. If it means advocacy work for women regarding day care, family leave, and other corporate policies affecting mothers, great. For me, it means encouraging my mom to believe in herself and her unique skills as she seeks out a new job. Mom told me for years how smart I was, until I finally believed it. It is time for me to return the favor.

We all know how unique and talented our mothers are. Let’s actually do something to support and nurture them on their own journeys, wherever that may take them.

“Give her a share in the fruit of her hands, and let her works praise her in the city gates.” --Proverbs 31:31

Kelsey

For those of you who get a thrill from knowing what’s going on here in PresbyLand, I’ve spent most of my morning working on recruiting for the Leadership Event. And let me tell you, it isn’t easy work. It would seem that many students are too busy and overcommitted in general to attend conferences over the summer. So I’m resorting to some new avenues to get the word out about the event that go beyond listserv messages and our campus ministry networks.

I’ve only met with a few campus women’s centers on my travels around the country. When I’ve gone to them, though, I’ve been deeply impressed with the students and faculty there. They tend to be incredibly open and generous, willing to probe and ask the tough questions of both Christianity and their own assumptions about it. So I decided to go there to find some potential leadership event participants. This morning I went through our handy-dandy directory of PC(USA)-related colleges and universities and searched for all of them online, where I found out if they had some sort of women’s/gender studies program on campus (for the record, roughly 20 of the 65 schools listed do have something). I e-mailed several women’s studies departments, and have already heard back from one of them. I also contacted several women’s centers around the country.

Currently I’m also brainstorming ways to reach out to women of color and a broader cross-section of the church. The offices working with racial ethnic constituencies are a possible contact, as well as their racial ethnic young adult networks. I’ve already sent out information into building offices such as Young Adult Ministries, Peacemaking, and our buddies downstairs, Higher Education and Students’ Ministries. We have also sent brochures to Presbyterian Women. I would be interested to hear any recruitment ideas you might have.

Still, though, the best promotion is word-of-mouth. Please, please, please, even if you’re out of college or can’t come to the event, tell your friends about it and encourage them to come. I’m excited about all the possibilities inherent in this event, and I don’t think they’ll be disappointed if they come. Keep spreading the word!

“And suddenly from heaven there came a sound like the rush of a violent wind, and it filled the entire house where they were sitting. Divided tongues, as of fire, appeared among them, and a tongue rested on each of them.” --Acts 2:2-3

Kelsey

Good morning, and !Feliz Cinco de Mayo! The thought occurred to me to write to you entirely in Spanish to celebrate with our friends across the border, but then I realized that it would be a very short blog (which would be a welcome relief to some of you, I’m sure). Still, have a taco and remember this day of celebration for Mexico. For the record, Cinco de Mayo commemorates the Battle of Puebla in 1862, when Mexican forces defeated an invading French army twice its size. The French puppet Maximillian of Austria still managed to take over the country until 1867, so I’m not sure why it gets a holiday. Probably because the battle symbolized the spirit of independence among the Mexican people and fueled the resistance.

It is also a week of celebration here in Kentucky—Derby Week is upon us. For those of you everywhere else, Louisville is now celebrating the festivities leading up to the 131st Kentucky Derby, the “greatest two minutes in sports.” By now, the second week of the Derby Festival, we’ve managed to race everything it is possible to race except horses—Saturday was the mini-marathon, Sunday the Great Balloon Race, Monday the Great Bed Race, and yesterday the Great Steamboat Race (the Belle of Louisville won the Golden Antlers for the gazillionth time).

I must confess that it is difficult to work on Derby Week. First of all, no one is in the office. It is like the day after Christmas around here, as everyone else takes vacation, calls in sick, or just flat out leaves to go pig out at the Chow Wagon down the street. Ann, Lisa, and I have been holding down the Women’s Ministries fort, valiantly pushing forward and resisting the temptation to go see the Spin Doctors and Gin Blossoms at the racetrack this afternoon. But I’m still hoping to check out the Pegasus Parade later. After all, would you want to work with all this fun stuff going on?

Of course, all the festivities culminate with the running of the Kentucky Derby on Saturday afternoon, probably sometime around 5 pm. Last year was terrible weather for NNPCW alumna Amy Robinson and me, but this year promises a high of 78 degrees. A factoid for you all: on the day of the Kentucky Derby, the infield at Churchill Downs officially becomes the third most populous city in the state of Kentucky. And yes, my friends, I will be there, singing with 150,000 other people the words to Stephen Foster’s “My Old Kentucky Home” and screaming my horse on.

So this Saturday around 5 pm, when you’re flipping channels and happen to notice the Kentucky Derby on TV, look out over that crowd and remember that there is at least one person you know in it. And if you happen to be down here, look me up—you might swing an invitation to my Derby Brunch, too.

“For you, O Lord, have made me glad by your work; at the works of your hands I sing for joy.” --Psalm 92:4

Kelsey

I’m guessing that it is almost graduation time for several of you out there in NNPCW. First of all, let me pass on my heartiest congratulations. I still remember that feeling of dazed elation as the president handed me my diploma and said, “Thank you for coming to Whitworth College.” I think I said, “No, thank you,” or “Thanks for having me!” I then wandered off the stage and proceeded to get lost at the back of the Spokane Arena on my way to my seat, a stupid grin on my face the entire time. Enjoy this time—you’ve worked hard for it.

Here’s the downside of graduation, though: you wake up the next morning and realize that you have no clue what’s going to happen next. The sedate predictability of a life ordered by homework, class, eating and sleeping flies out the window, only to be replaced by terrifying uncertainty. If you’re lucky, you have a job to go to. But who knows if you’ll like that job, or how long you’ll stay with it? Or if you’re going to grad school, whether you’ll like that either? And then there are the tangled complexities of relationships changing, starting, and ending. Change frightens the best of us.

Yet in thinking about it, the worst part of change really lies in the fear of it rather than any change itself. We humans are rather resilient creatures. Once we’re in a situation, we tend to survive pretty well. For me, the worst part of any change lies in the anticipation. The fear of unhappiness, the anticipated pain of separation and loss, the uncertainty surrounding the future… I wander through the smoky haze, oblivious to the clear, sunny sky a short distance away.

Scriptures talk a lot about fear, peppering passages with “Do not be afraid” and “Do not worry” all the time. In the New Testament, Jesus often comforts the disciples with the assurance of his continued presence, even after he physically leaves them. For those of you facing the uncertainties of graduation, though, let’s backtrack a bit to the recesses of Sunday School lessons. Remember Jeremiah? When God spoke to him, Jeremiah expressed fear: “Ah, Lord God! Truly I do not know how to speak, for I am only a boy” (Jeremiah 1:6). What did God say, though? “Do not be afraid of them, for I am with you to deliver you, says the Lord” (Jeremiah 1:8). God goes on to empower Jeremiah to proclaim God’s message to the people of Israel.

In those moments of change, where the future promises only uncertainty, remember Jeremiah and a host of other fearful biblical figures: their times of transition were the starting points for God to do “a new thing” in their lives. Their intense fear, and God’s words of comfort, marks the threshold for a new and empowered mission. In Luke, the angel Gabriel greets Mary by saying, “Do not be afraid, Mary, for you have found favor with God” (Luke 1:30). Fear is not only natural, it seems, but also serves as the starting point from which we hear the voice, listen to the call, and act in ways we couldn’t have anticipated before.

So if you’re leaving school now and you’re worried or fearful, rest in the knowledge that all sorts of wonderful possibilities lie in front of you. Seek the path, listen for the call, and know that God is with you to deliver you through the journey.

“I will not leave you orphaned; I am coming to you.” --John 14:18

Kelsey

Word has reached my ears that Sisters Together finally found its way into your mailboxes. I hope you enjoy it—this is a great issue that highlights some of the things we hope to talk about at the Leadership Event this summer. By the way, if you have not yet registered for the event, you need to jump on it. Regular registration ends on June 1, and “the early bird gets the worm”… or in this case, gets the scholarship money to attend. This will be a dynamic event that you won’t want to miss!

Today I wanted to recommend to you one of the articles from this issue, Dee Darden’s discussion of mutual invitation on page 2. Your own campus groups can use her guidelines, based on Eric H.F. Law’s process for community Bible study, to open deeper and more respectful dialogue. It all seems simple at first: after speaking, I invite you to speak. Then you invite someone else to speak, and so on until everyone has spoken. You don’t interrupt one another, except maybe to ask a clarifying point. What’s so special about that, you ask?

In Law’s book, The Wolf Shall Dwell With the Lamb: A Spirituality for Leadership in a Multicultural Community, he describes the levels of perceived power that enter into any interaction between people. In any group, factors such as gender, race, social class, and age play into how people communicate. People from non-Western cultures may have deep-seated aversions to vocally stating an opinion in conversation, as Westerners have been taught to do from childhood. Younger people, like myself, may be hesitant to express thoughts that contradict those of our parents’ generation. Women who have been socialized to show deference to the opinions of men may stay silent in mixed groups (ever notice how many of us are quiet in the presence of guys?). The likelihood that someone will really communicate thoughts or feelings depends largely on these factors, and how much power that person thinks she or he has in relation to others.

The process known as mutual invitation is meant to level out these perceived power differences in heterogeneous groups. In it, people who never speak are given the opportunity to express their thoughts. People who are accustomed to speaking must sit back and listen until they get their turn. The process offers everyone the power to speak, and when exercised enough, empowers the silenced in other interactions as well. That’s why the language of invitation is so important—by inviting someone else, you peacefully lay down your own power to speak and allow someone else to pick it up. The process is all about sharing and communicating through divides.

From a theological standpoint, mutual invitation expresses our Christian belief that every person has value in the eyes of God. When we realize that some people have power and some people don’t, and we work to give up our power to someone else, it is a tangible expression of God’s love for them. It also points to the coming realm of God, when we will see one another as God sees us—equals before a loving Creator who sacrificed for all.

So next time you’re in a small group at church, on your campus, or even in other settings, suggest mutual invitation as a possible way to open the discussion. You may be surprised at insights that come from the most unexpected places.

“The wolf shall live with the lamb, the leopard shall lie down with the kid, the calf and the lion and the fatling together, and a little child shall lead them.” --Isaiah 11:6

Kelsey

It’s that time of year again… the one you all know and annually dread… the 21st century version of Austen’s London Season… wedding season. I attended my first reception yesterday, elegantly coiffed and in a smashing dress I picked up on sale Saturday, ready to put my three semesters of college ballroom dancing to use. Now, in case this image is ruining your opinion of me as an empowered woman, please note that I was very careful to position myself in “anti-bouquet-catching” stance during the traditional toss—at wedding receptions, you can call me “Teflon.”

Two words of wisdom for any of you who decide to get married and invite me to your wedding—shrimp cocktail. In my mind, no wedding reception seems quite right without it. You can have it at an upscale wedding, a country cookout, and everything in between. It is the perfect reception appetizer.

Weddings, as you may know, are not done everywhere like we do them here in the United States. This weekend a friend e-mailed me a piece from the New York Times about wedding rites in Kyrgyzstan. But first—where is Kyrgyzstan? It is one of the Central Asian republics from the former Soviet Union. And what is so extraordinary about weddings in Kyrgyzstan? Well, they often take place via violent abduction.

Over half of all married women of Kyrgyzstan are kidnapped from the street in a custom known as “grab and run.” About one-third of these abductions take place against the will of the woman. Basically, the practice involves a man’s friends or family luring a woman into a car and taking her to the man’s house. Once she has spent the night there and accepted the jooluk, a shawl that symbolizes her submission, she must either marry her kidnapper or leave as “tainted goods.” Eighty percent of victims eventually agree to the marriage.

I found men’s justifications for this practice interesting. One was the cost of marriage—marrying through less violent channels required a bride price of $800 plus a cow in this impoverished land. One man quoted in the article, a graduate student in one of Kyrgyzstan’s universities, revealed another rationale: “Men steal women to show that they are men.”

In the United States, we couldn’t imagine such a brutal courtship. Yet I think the above quote is telling, and universal. How many things do men do to women around the world to show that they are men? Here you hear stories of gang rapes at parties and battered victims of domestic violence. How is that less barbaric than any other culture? Or what about the business meetings where women’s ideas are ignored by male leaders, the classrooms where women’s thoughts are ridiculed and belittled by male classmates? How many of these things do men do to show that they are men?

People sometimes tell me that Jesus was incarnated as a man because God is man. But I’ve always wondered if there isn’t an entirely different reason that Jesus was a man—perhaps God wanted to give men a new paradigm for masculinity. Jesus felt no pressure to “prove” he was a man when he was on earth. He told us to practice peace when violence was the norm. He prayed when others demanded action. He stopped the stoning of a woman by a male mob intent on vengeance. Jesus taught us that it is wrong to exploit or hurt other people to demonstrate your manhood, no matter who those people are. Exploitation is antithetical to that most “feminine” of all values that Jesus called us to, love.

Women, we need to challenge our Christian brothers to stop “showing they are men” and start showing that they are like Jesus—the Jesus who affirmed and empowered women to proclaim the Good News, the Jesus who spoke love. And in this wedding season, we all need to think about what it means to practice radical, transformational love in our own lives and in the world.

“I give you a new commandment, that you love one another. Just as I have loved you, you also should love one another. By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another.” --John 13:34-35

Kelsey