Shawna Atteberry

Baker, Writer, Teacher

Women and Fiction: Writing the World Right

(I am working my way through Sandi Amorim’s Spotlight Questions (You can find the interview here). When she asked what was effortless and life giving for me, I answered: “Definitely reading. I love to sit down and get lost in a book. I love to learn new things. I’m always reading seven or eight books at the same time. I just love books. That leads into my love for writing and wanting to give the same blessings to my readers, my favorite authors have given to me.” It reminded me of this article I wrote for Christians for Biblical Equality’s E-Quality Newsletter.)

I’ve always lived in other worlds. As soon as I learned to read, I began devouring books. If I could understand most of the words, I read it. I was always asking Mom what this word and that word meant, and as a result, Mom soon taught me how to use a dictionary. I was in glasses by the time I was ten. There is no proof, but I think because I read so much, my eyes didn’t think there was anything beyond the length of my arm (or the tip of my nose for that matter). By the time I finished sixth grade, I had read the Little House on the Prairie books, A Wrinkle in Time trilogy (back then it was a trilogy), The Chronicles of Narnia, every Judy Blume book, and too many Nancy Drew books to count. In fact, I would sit down after breakfast on Saturdays with a Nancy Drew mystery and have it finished by supper. Of course, writing stories did not lag far behind learning how to read them.

Role Models

The first time I saw the power and potential of a girl, and later a woman, was in Madeline L’Engle’s A Wrinkle in Time books. Meg was strong and held her own ground. She did not have special powers and she was not a super-hero, but she did what was right. Her love for her family always compelled her to do the right thing, no matter what it cost her personally. Meg showed me that regardless of your age, you could change the world for the better.

I lived in books filled with girls and women with whom I could relate. I grew up with a complementarian model of who a woman was supposed to be, but I never fit in that mold. I was neither quiet nor submissive, and I was not very proper. I was competitive, opinionated, aggressive, and willing to defend my beliefs. In books I found woman like me, women I wanted to be like.

I will never forget meeting Eowyn in The Two Towers and journeying with her through Return of the King. She was the first woman I met who was also a warrior. She defied the customs of her time, went into battle, and fought for what she believed in. She was the one who destroyed the King of the Nazguls. In Eowyn, I found a sister.

Seeing Humanity in Others

But fiction has done more than just show me what women can do. The genres of science fiction and fantasy also help me to understand what it means to be human. There is a great potential for truth-telling in these genres. I think that is because the worlds in science fiction and fantasy are not “our” world. Because it’s not “us,” “our” culture, “our” world, we can say things that are not readily received in other forums. Over the years, these genres have confronted the prejudices of our world, battling discrimination based on sex, religion, and ethnicity, and going even further to ask, “What does it mean to be human?”

In Children of God, Mary Doria Russell weaves the stories of human and alien through religion. On the world of Rakhat, there are two species: the Jana’ata and the Runa. The Jana’ata will eat the Runa for survival and to maintain the population. Two of the human characters in the book are a Jewish woman, Sofia Mendes, and her autistic son, Isaac. Joining them is Ha’anala, a member of the Jana’ata. Sofia teaches them the Jewish faith. The biblical views begin to change the way Ha’anala looks at her world, and the way she sees the Runa. She realizes all of them are created by Godde. When she is older, she forms a group where the Runa are treated as equals, which becomes a catalyst for starting change in her world. Meanwhile, Isaac has limited speech and dislikes noise. He wants silence and clarity. He works continually on a hand-held computer, looking for what he calls clarity. At the end of the book we find out what he was working on: a symphony. John Clute noted that Isaac “understands the world solely through song, memorizes the genetic codes of the three races into three intercalating tone-rows, and harmonizes them” (Excessive Candour, issue 63, which is no longer online thanks to SyFy’s name change). He calls his composition “The Children of God.” The humans, the Runa, and the Jana’ata are all Godde’s children. The book ends with a question: Where will these three races—all children of Godde—go from here? Children of God makes us think: what does it mean to be made in the image of Godde? To be Godde’s children? Do we really consider those who are “other” (different races, cultures, religions, or ethnicities) as Godde’s children? Would we use and exploit other people if we saw them as children of Godde, or would we radically change the way live as Jana’ata did?

Neil Gaiman creates London Below in Neverwhere: A Novel. A whole world lives beneath the streets of London in old tunnels long forgotten. London Below is populated by those who considered misfits by the inhabitants of London Above. The residents of London Below are seen as homeless, dirty, and destitute. The people of London Above do not even see them; they look right past them. The dwellers of London Below have to talk to them to be seen, but once the conversation is over, the London Abovers forget all about it. Those who reside in London Below are unseen and forgotten people. This challenges the reader to examine how we see people. How do we view those who are considered “misfits”? Do we look past them? Do we see them at all?

Both of these books remind me of the core church doctrine that every single human being on the face of this planet is made in Godde’s image. What do we do with this doctrine, once it is truly realized? Are we able to handle the responsibility this places upon us? What about those we take advantage of, simply because we can? Are there certain people who are invisible to us, who we look through on the street? Fiction has challenged me, throughout my life, to encounter these hard questions, and ask what it means to be human. Godde not only created every human being, but Godde created them in Godde’s own image. I must constantly remind myself to remember this, to live out what I believe.

Male and Female in the Image of Godde

Lately these questions about humanity have morphed into an examination of what it means to be made in the image of Godde as males and females. What does it mean to be a woman created in the image of Godde? What does this look like in our everyday lives?

I’m not sure I’ve found the answer in fiction. But I do know one image from a book that points me in the right direction: Eowyn and Merry in The Return of the King. They ride into battle together, fight together, and defend each other until they are both down. Eowyn does kill the King of the Nazgul, but she could never have done it without the help of Merry. When I think of men and women, made in the image of Godde, this is what I see. Brothers and sisters standing side by side, fighting the evil in our world that would belittle or ignore any person made in Godde’s image, and building Godde’s kingdom together.

This article was originally published in Christians for Biblical Equality’s E-Quality Newsletter, Winter 2008.

Three Years Ago on ShawnaAtteberry.com: Phoebe

Three years ago on this site I wrote a post, which has become one of the most popular posts on this blog on Phoebe. Phoebe was a wealthy woman who was the pastor of a church in Cenecherae in Greece, and she was also a patron of the church. She gave money for mission work like Paul’s as well as helped her own and other churches with their expenses and problems they may be having with the Roman government. Paul entrusted her with the letter to the Romans and trusted her to make his case for their financial support of his mission to Spain.

Phoebe: Pastor & Patron

I commend to you our sister Phoebe, a deacon of the church at Cenchreae, so that you may welcome her in the Lord as is fitting for the saints, and help her in whatever she may require from you, for she has been a benefactor of many and of myself as well (Rom. 16:1-2)

Paul trusted Phoebe enough to entrust his letter to the Romans to her. She is a woman Paul highly commended and respected. She is a “sister,” “deacon,” and “benefactor” to the church at Cenchreae as well as a sister and benefactor to Paul.

Paul uses the word, diakonos to describe Phoebe. The odd thing about Paul using this word to describe Phoebe is that it is the masculine form used to describe a woman. The feminine form is diakona. Most versions translate diakonos as “servant” here, but when it used to describe men, it is translated as “deacon.” It is also paired with “of the church of Cenchreae” This is the only place in the New Testament where diakonos is followed by a specific congregation in a genitive construct: she was the deacon of the church in Cenchreae. This is the only place linking a specific person’s ministry with a specific church. This seems to indicate that Phoebe served as a deacon or pastor in the church at Cenchreae.

Paul uses another word to describe Phoebe: prostatis. This is the only occurrence of the word in the New Testament. It is also another word that is translated so that its main meaning is not obvious in the translation. The normal translation is “helper” or someone who has helped. In secular Greek sources, the basic and most obvious translation of the word is patron or benefactor, and women in this role, are well attested in the Roman world. Women who were benefactors in the Roman world supported the arts and temples, as well as philosophers and debaters. Phoebe was a wealthy woman who served the church out of her means as the women in Luke 8 served Jesus out of theirs.

Aida Besançon Spencer has also suggested that prostatis could be derived from the verb proistemi, which means to “to stand, place before or over,” or “to help by ruling” (Before the Curse, 115). The times the verb appears in the New Testament it has the meaning of ruling or governing (Rom. 12:8; 1 Thes. 5:12-13). In the Pastoral Epistles this word is used to describe bishops and deacons governing their households well. In other Greek sources, such as Josephus, the masculine form of the verb is used to describe rulers and leaders like Moses, Herod, and Agrippa (ibid). This word could mean that Phoebe was a ruler or another overseer in the church.

Phoebe was an independent woman who had her own means, and served the church in a leadership role. Paul comes very close to commanding churches he had no hand in planting, and Christians, most of whom had never met him, to welcome her and provide anything she needed because she was both a deacon and a benefactor/ruler in the church. She was not only the benefactor and leader in the church at Cencherae, but Paul himself had also benefited from her generous rule.

To find out more about the leadership roles women had in the Bible buy What You Didn’t Learn in Sunday School: Women Who Didn’t Shut Up & Sit Down.

Sermon: Everyone Has a Story, Judges 4

This weeks Old Testament reading (Proper 28A/Ordinary 33A/Pentecost +22) is Judges 4:1-7. Unfortunately, the reading stops before the story really gets going and gets good. You really should read the entire chapter, verses 1-24. I wrote this sermon eight or nine years ago, and it is still one of my favorites. Probably because it has some of my favorite people in the Bible.

Everyone Has a Story

Judges 4-5

One of my absolutely favorite news segments was “Everybody Has a Story.” Journalist Steve Hartman had this absolutely cockamamie idea that a person didn’t need to be rich, or famous, or even a celebrity to have a story. He believed that ordinary people, living ordinary lives, in ordinary places had stories that the rest of us would want to hear and might even help us live our own little, ordinary lives. Even Steve admitted he wasn’t sure his idea would work. But for years Steve Hartman proved that everybody has a story. One of things I loved about this news segment is that Steve found some of the most unlikely people, in the most unlikely places, who have lived through and done some of the most unlikely things.

His stories reminded me a lot of the stories I read in the Bible. Ordinary people, doing ordinary things, living ordinary lives. But instead of a pesky reporter dropping in, a pesky God decides to show up and change those ordinary lives forever. That’s what happened in Judges 4.

An Unlikely Couple

The first three verses of this chapter are typical for the book of Judges. In the book of Judges Israel is caught in a very destructive cycle. They decide to worship the gods around them instead of Yahweh–the God who brought them out of Egypt. God then gives them over to an enemy who oppresses them for a while–in this case 20 years. Then the people come to their senses and cry out to God who then raises a judge to deliver them from their oppressors. There is much rejoicing and the people obey God during the life of that judge and then the cycle starts all over again. This is called a downward spiral because not only does the same cycle keep happening, but each time it gets worse.

When we come to verse 4 we read: “At that time Deborah, a prophetess, wife of Lappidoth, was judging Israel.” Now we come to the first twist in this story–the judge is not a man–it’s a woman. We have an unlikely judge–she’s a wife and probably a mother. And why is she the judge and not her husband? Because God called her and not him. Yes, it’s as simple as that. And what about Lappidoth? I always wonder about this man. He’s only mentioned once in the Bible, but he intrigues me. Since Deborah is judging Israel at the palm of Deborah and fulfilling her calling as a prophet, I’m assuming he’s okay with the arrangement. And yes, in our day and age, we go, “Well duh, yes, she can work if she wants to.” Back then, in that day and age, Deborah should have been home being a wife and mother–cooking, cleaning, taking care of the kids. The place she should not have been was out in public, resolving disputes among the people. That was man’s work. That should have been what Lappidoth was doing. But this unlikely couple obeyed God’s rather strange calling on their lives–God called Deborah to be a prophet and judge, and both she and Lappidoth obeyed God’s calling.

So, not only Deborah, but Deborah and Lappidoth are the first unlikely people we meet in this story. Now we will meet our next unlikely person.

An Unlikely General

Barak enters our story next. H’s a general, commander of the army of Israel. Deborah tells him that God has spoken and wants Barak to take an army and move against Israel’s oppressor: Sisera. Up to this point the men God called to judge Israel’s enemies have been gung-ho about going and wreaking a little havoc. God told them to go and destroy Israel’s enemies, and they went and destroyed Israel’s enemies in some very creative ways with no cajoling or prodding. So when Deborah calls Barak and tells him God’s ready to move against Sisera, we expect Barak to yell, “Yippee, it’s about time!” and go. But that’s not what he does. Barak puts a condition on his obedience: Deborah must go with him. The general wants a woman to accompany him in battle. And this woman, this married women who probably had children, says, yes. If that’s what it takes to do God’s will then she will go, so that the enemy can be defeated.

But Barak’s condition costs him: he will not be the one to kill Sisera. In another irony of this story, a woman will kill Sisera. Of course, at this point, we think the woman will be Deborah.

Again Lappidoth impresses me. No, he’s not mentioned in these verses. But his wife is going into war with Barak, and he doesn’t forbid her. In all likelihood, he is probably one of the 10,000 who go into battle. Again this unlikely couple obey God, at what could be great cost to them.

Although Barak wanted assurance of God’s presence, and it did cost him the full glory of the battle, I don’t think we should be too hard on him. Remember Deborah was a prophet–she was God’s representative on earth, speaking the words God gave her. I think if I was Barak, I might want her to come along too; I might want that assurance of God’s presence that Deborah, not only gave to Barak, but gave to the soldiers as well.

So we have an unlikely couple and an unlikely general that God is using to accomplish her plans. Now we are coming to the most unlikely person in the whole story.

An Unlikely Ally

Word reaches Sisera that Barak and his troops are on the move, and Sisera rallies his army to meet them, thinking that he has pretty much won this battle. But God had other plans. Deborah gives the command for the troops to march and Barak leads the way. As they are moving toward each other, God throws Sisera’s army into a panic. I like the account of the battle given in Judges 5:20-21: “The stars fought from heaven, from their courses they fought against Sisera. The torrent Kishon swept them away, the onrushing torrent, the torrent Kishon. March on, my soul, with might!” God once again fought for her people and delivered them from their enemies. In the middle of the fight Sisera sees that things are not going his way, and I’m thinking that what he does isn’t something generals of armies should do: he runs. And this chicken is about to run into a fox.

Back in verse Judges 4:11 we have a verse that appears out of nowhere about a man living in the area. It seems like an odd verse to insert between Deborah’s command to Barak and the preparations to march to war. In this verse we learn about Heber, a man descended from Moses’ father-in-law, who lives in the area. Now in verse 17 we find out why that piece of information appeared out of nowhere. Sisera runs to the place where Heber and his wife, Jael, are staying. At this point in the story it appears that Sisera is home free. There was peace between Heber and King Jabin–Sisera’s boss. For all appearances he should be safe. And Jael plays the perfect hostess…for a while. She invites him in, gives him milk to drink when he asked for water. Then she tucked him in with a rug for a nice nap. But instead of standing guard at the tent as Sisera ordered her, Jael has other plans. Deborah will not be the woman who defeats Sisera–Jael is. And she is a more unlikely person for the job than Deborah. Jael is not only a woman. She is a Gentile woman. She is not from one of the tribes of Israel. God will use this Gentile woman to deliver Israel from their oppressor. Instead of standing guard and deflecting Israel’s soldiers when they come looking for Sisera, Jael sneaks to where he’s sleeping and kills him. Jael is waiting at the entrance to the tent when Barak comes, and she leads him inside the tent, and shows him his enemy, dead. All that Deborah had spoken happened. Israel defeated the army of Sisera, and Sisera had been killed by a woman. After the victory song of chapter 5, we read that Israel had rest for 40 years.

Using a very unlikely combination of people: a wife and mother, a hesitant general, and a Gentile woman, God delivered Israel from their enemies. When God came these people were living their normal, everyday lives. They didn’t think anything was going to change, and they sure didn’t think God would use them to make those changes. But God did.

An Unlikely People

And I’m not sure which should surprise us more: that God uses ordinary people to do His will, or that God gets mixed up with us unpredictable, insecure, hesitant humans at all. Even with Barak’s hesitation and insistence on Deborah coming to battle with him, God still gets mixed up in the lives of these ordinary people, with foibles and quirks, and uses them to accomplish her plans for her people.

I bet Steve Hartman would give his eyeteeth to be able to tell this story on the evening news. You see what Steve doesn’t know is that there is a reason why everyone has a story. It’s because God made everyone. We all have stories because we are made in God’s image. But it gets better than that. God comes to us and wants be a part of our stories. The God who is Creator and Ruler of all wants to take part in our ordinary, mundane, messy lives. Then she wants to use our lives and our stories to build her kingdom and accomplish her plans, not only for the Church, but for the world. But don’t freak out–God doesn’t send us out alone, just like Barak didn’t go out alone. God goes with us, so that everyone we encounter can be a part of her story–just like we are.

So as you live your ordinary life this week, remember all those ordinary people you see have stories. And God wants to be a part of those stories.

Poetry: Hail Holy Mothers

This is the poem I wrote for my spiritual foremothers: Mary, mother of Christ; St. Brigid of Kildare; St. Hildegard von Bingen; St. Teresa of Avila; and Florence Nightingale. It seemed appropriate for All Saints’ Day.

St. Teresa of Avila by Janet McKenzie

Hail Holy Mothers!
Trail blazers!
Pioneers!

Women of fire;
Women of God’s Word:
Receiving God’s Word
Nurturing God’s Word
Giving birth to God’s Word.

Women of the shield:
Defending God’s Word,
Not with sword,
But with exhortation
With rebukes
With wise counsel.

Mothers, Defenders of our faith!
You stand around me–
Cheering
Encouraging
Showing the way
Praying.

Sisters, mothers, friends:
You wait for us
Bidding us come;
come take your hands
and enter eternity together.
(c)2008 Shawna R. B. Atteberry

All these, though they were commended for their faith, did not receive what was promised, since God had provided something better so that they would not, apart from us, be made perfect. Therefore, since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, let us also lay aside every weight and the sin that clings so closely, and let us run with perseverance the race that is set before us (Hebrews 11:39–12:1).

Who are your spiritual foremothers? How do they draw you closer to God? How do they spark your creativity?

Originally posted on May 28, 2008