Daughters of Shiloh: In Your Own Eyes

 Judges 21:15-25

And we danced
in the sunshine
not a care in the world
and we sang
our God's praise
without trouble or fear
free
like our mothers
who left Egypt by His hand
free
in the shelter
of His justice and love.

But now
I am loot
to be carried away.
I am your quarry
to be hunted down.
I am prey to be caught,
a prize to be captured,
I am flesh to be used.

Oh you pious men
keeping your vows before God,
oh you righteous men
looking out for your brothers,
oh you faithful men -
you do what is right,
what is right in your own eyes -
but is it right in God's?

In God's,
whose will is shelter
in justice and love?
In God's,
who led our mothers
out of Egypt by His hand?
Would this Saviour of Slaves
have us treated like loot,
like quarry, like prey,
a prize to be captured,
flesh to be used?

You do what is right
in your own eyes
and think yourselves pious
and righteous and good
free
like your fathers
led from Egypt by His hand
but as long as your daughters
remain so enslaved,
as long as your actions
are not justice and love
your hearts will be stuck
in Egypt's land
and you'll still be slaves to sin.

Turn around, then.
Turn around and dance with me.
Dance with me
in the love of the God
who created us as equals.
Turn around to the King
whose commandment is love.
Turn around and let justice reign.
Then you and I can all be free
dancing in praise of the Saviour of Slaves,
not a care in the world,
without trouble or fear
doing right in the eyes
of God our king.

____________________________

[16. October 2022]

This story is so horrible (and this is just one part of the horror, the beginning of Judges 21 is about genocide as well as rape). At the end of the book of Judges, Israel is a mess. They just decimated the tribe of Benjamin as revenge for what happened with the Levite's concubine (awful, awful story of gang rape - the Bible really is not silent about the horrors of the human race). Anyway after the massacre the other tribes feel sorry and want to prevent the entire tribe of Benjamin dying out. However, they have vowed not to give any of their daughters as wives to the men of Benjamin. What follows is a lot of unnecessary pain and violence all to keep that vow while still helping the Benjaminites come to women.

The "daughters of Shiloh" are girls participating in a religious festival, the Israelites set up a kidnapping so that they won't have "given" the girls freely.

Like a refrain in the book of Judges, and again at the very end (Judges 21:25) is the sentence: they did what was right in their own eyes. Judges is about things going wrong. When we read about genocides and murder and gang rape and here the kidnapping and rape of hundreds of young women, it's nothing "condoned" by God. It's people making a big hash of things after having been shown by God how society can actually be different (law given on Sinai). And the tragic thing is, so often we human beings are capable of thinking we're on the right path while actually doing horrible things that are opposed to the will of God. These guys thought they were being good people doing their best to keep a vow, helping out their countrymen, etc.

Which is why I think we need to keep in connection with God, and always be open to repent and turn around. So many things were thought to be okay for the longest time, even by Christians (slavery, racism, subjugation of women). Change is hard but true salvation is not just a change of what we believe or a spiritual thing, but a change in how we live our lives and how our societies work. That's why the giving of the law,at Sinai was an important step on the way out of Egypt: Okay, you're not slaves anymore - here's how to live so you won't be slaves again! True freedom is not in having no one tell us what to do (doing what is right in our own eyes) but letting ourselves be guided to a way of living that is best for everybody.

Picture by Franz von Stuck

Jochebed: Weaning

Exodus 2:1-10

How often now

have I said "I'm done" -

when you bit me

or had a trying night.

"I can't do it anymore,"

I thought

so many times.

And yet

I'm just not ready.

Every time

you turn away your head

or would rather play,

every time you prefer

meat or rice or figs

sadness overcomes me

and fear

as I realise:

Our time is coming to an end

and soon

you'll be no longer mine.

Even this borrowed time

must come to a close

and I'll have to give you away.

No, child, no - 

stay small

stay mine

I'm not ready

I'm so done

but I'm not ready.

I'd rather hold you

wriggling and screaming

to this dry breast you no longer want

than let you go

and give you up

for good this time.

______________

[Feb / July 2022]

Jochebed, Moses' mother, put her son in a basket after it became impossible to keep him hidden in Egypt where all Hebrew boys were killed. It was her last resort to keep him safe. By a miracle, he ended up being found by the Pharaoh's daughter, who took pity and wanted to adopt him. Through the quick thinking of his sister Miriam, Jochebed got her son back through the role of wet nurse.

But then what would it have been like for Jochebed to have that time come to an end as Moses started weaning? It's likely she was allowed to nurse way past 2, it's only modern Western culture where breastfeeding less than 2 years is thought to be the "norm". But still. That time ends. Every child weans. No more wet nurse. A second goodbye.

I'm in a bunch of breastfeeding groups and have observed that weaning is a complex topic. Sometimes as a mother one just has enough and wants to wean, other times the child abruptly stops before Mama is ready. Often the end is bittersweet. I'm not there yet 😆 but have experienced odd days where my daughter showed no interest for hours and I felt oddly offended by it. 🤣 So I imagine it must have been an extremely conflicting experience for Jochebed. You can't force a toddler to nurse (hence the "wriggling and screaming"), when they're done they really are done. But to have that mean not only the end of the breastfeeding relationship but also the end of your time with your child - terrible! 

I first wrote this in German this Feb at a workshop I did in my church (I like taking Ex 2 because there are 4+ women in the story), translated it today because I'm doing another workshop and just rediscovered it among my notes. 😆 

Picture by Utamaro Kitagawa. A very "toddler nursing" picture. 🥴 

Haggith: Don't Heal Me

Don't heal my broken heart, God.

I want to feel the pain.

I want the wound

to stay open, bleeding.

I want to stay shattered;

Don't gather my pieces.

Let me grieve.

Don't heal my broken heart, God.

Let me stay here instead,

wallowing in bleeding love,

bleeding for him.

Healing would feel

like forgetting

getting over him

betraying him.

Losing him forever.

Don't heal my broken heart, God.

Don't take the pain,

don't comfort me.

For as the pain fades

so does he.

Keep my tears flowing.

Silence my laughter.

Keep me broken;

I don't want to be fixed.

I need him to stay present

in my pain, in my tears.

I need him to keep haunting me,

I need it to keep hurting me.

So don't heal my broken heart, God.

Let me grieve.

___________________________

[19. July 2022]

I read about a most terrible loss of a baby today. While I was praying for the mother the thought came to me that with such a loss, I would not want to be comforted. "Feeling better", ever, would feel like a betrayal.

Modern-day Western culture is very uncomfortable about grief. We try to make people feel better because that makes us feel better. But sometimes we just need to feel our feelings. It is so important to have and give permission to grieve. To feel all of it for as long as it takes, in whatever way it takes (everyone grieves differently!), instead of feeling under any pressure to "go back to normal".

I chose Haggith for this poem because she is one of many grieving mothers in the Bible. Her son Adonijah is one of the contenders for David's throne and almost becomes king. Bathsheba manages to get her son Solomon on the throne instead. Solomon then has Adonijah and his supporters killed. Politics and intrigue and we can have all sorts of theological conclusions about what went on here, but in the end you will always have people experiencing loss and grief.

I believe God allows us to grieve, that being a Christian does not mean having to be always happy, that it is perfectly fine to not want to get better yet. God lets us take our time to grieve. He will heal when we are ready.

So this also makes me think about how I am there for people in grief. How I pray for them. "Heal the broken hearts" - yes, but are they ready to be healed? What do they actually want and need? Maybe instead of being released from their feelings, they want a safe place to express them? Maybe I can be that safe place for someone. Just listening, not trying to comfort. Maybe a better prayer would be that grieving people can receive what they need - be that comfort, sleep, a listening ear or the courage to be angry.

Picture: "Grieving Mother" in Volgograd

Born of God

John 1:10-13

we become
children of God

not by praying
a standard prayer
clean and tidy

not by checking off
the right beliefs
on a checklist

not of natural descent
nor of human decision
nor a husband's will

we become
children of God
through the blood, sweat and tears
of love
powerful as contractions
we become
children of God
through the raw, animal passion
of life that must come out
that will come out
though the little head seems
to keep slipping back up
we become
children of God
pushed between her thighs
drawn towards her chest
to suckle at her loving breast

we become
children of God
born of God

________________________________

[6.-7. May 2022]

Me reading John 1 on Tuesday: Ugh it's so hard to learn anything new from a text you know by heart.
Me reading John 1 on Wednesday: Hang on. "Born of God"? God gives birth?! *poem idea born*

It's also John 1 where God has a uterus (v.18: the Greek "kolpos" often translated "bosom" is actually "womb"). So no, there's nothing "biblical" about God being "male", and there's nothing "unbiblical" about imagining God as a mother or (o horror) imagining God giving birth. God is neither male nor female, but male and female imagery can help us understand what God is like. Traditionally we have limited ourselves mostly to male imagery, but the Bible itself is full of feminine imagery as well, from the mother hen to the nursing mother to the uterus in John 1:18 and now this (which to be honest I only noticed this week).

We talk a lot about being "born again", but never really think the image through. What does it mean to be "born"? On the one hand it does signify a completely fresh start, the purity of a new beginning, maybe also the potential that is in every newborn child. But what we tend to omit is the actual act of giving birth and what that means to the mother. Maybe because (in Western culture at least) we speak of giving birth as being this terrible, scary, painful thing. And yes, it can be. But birth is also beautiful, and it can also be empowering. Maybe what makes it scary is how "feral" it is, how completely physical and instinctual. The pain comes from the powerful muscles working to get baby out. The mind only gets in the way here.

We like to view God as the one who brings order into chaos. Birth and the female sphere in general have often been relegated to the "chaotic". So what does it mean that God "gives birth" to us? I don't want to name conclusions, I'd rather let the image speak. So maybe next time we talk about being "born again" we consider what that means - what a raw connection that must be between us and God. How much we must mean to God.

Picture by Paula Modersohn-Becker

Widow of Zarephath: My Cup Overflows

1. Kings 17

I am alone
but my cup overflows.
No husband to support me
but my cup overflows.
Sole provider for my child
but my cup overflows.
Troubled are our times
but my cup overflows.

Your abundance
comes flowing down
covering our needs.
My cup overflows.
All the strength that I needed
to live through this time,
endurance and joy,
my cup overflows.

Faced with starvation
but my cup overflows.
Faced with illness
but my cup overflows.
Faced with loss
but my cup overflows.
In all adversity
my cup overflows.

All your riches,
your luxurious love,
pouring into our lives,
more than enough.
My cup overflows
enough to share
with hungry prophets
and weary guests.
My cup overflows.

_____________________________________________________

[23. January 2022]

The other day I randomly pondered whether there were any single mothers in the Bible. Of course there are quite a bunch. This is one of them and the first who came to mind.

Her story really spoke to me in the moment that I thought about her. She is a single mother like me. She lives in challenging times like we do currently (for her: drought and famine, for us: pandemic). She experiences miraculous provision - which I have been experiencing too ever since the separation. Oil in the Bible is a symbol of joy and abundance. She experiences the miracle of her tiny remainder of oil never being used up. What if we read this not only as the literal kitchen ingredient never running out, but as God providing all she needs? Personally these past few months I have somehow always had the strength and courage to get through all the challenges of becoming a single mother. Reading the widow's story, the "oil" in my life is these things.

So yes this is one of those cases where I write a poem for a woman of the Bible from the perspective of my own current experience. This story is an encouragement to me.

I also find it interesting how the whole thing connects to hospitality. The widow has too little for herself and her son, then suddenly has a guest on her hands when Elijah basically invites himself. It is in this situation that the oil and flour never run out. The widow dared to be hospitable - and it paid out. I have also made this experience that sometimes when I'm going through a hard time, helping others actually helped me. Weird maybe, but it happens - miracles of provision I think are more common than we might expect.

"My cup overflows" from Psalm 23:5 jumped into my head for this one, and I decided on the repetitive pattern to emulate the "his love endures forever" refrain in Psalm 136.

Picture by Mary Cassatt