I found this link a while back:
Not my own piece, although I sure wish it was. Read and laugh. Or cry. Or both. I found it funny, but oddly enough it’s hard to laugh when you feel like you can’t breathe.
Too much of this rang true for those of us schooled in “Biblical womanhood.”
The smiling man, dressed in a tailored dark suit, leaned over the polished oak and marble counter. “Welcome to the Christian Patriarchy Market! How can I help you?”
His new customer, a young woman, smiled tentatively back. “Hi. I’m looking for a new one of these, and I was told I had to get it here.”
She laid a large purse on the counter top. It was dark leather with “life” stamped on it in faded yellow letters. “I just turned twenty-two. I feel like I’m ready for a bigger one.”
His smile broadened. “I’ve got exactly what you need!” He opened a cabinet and withdrew another bag. It was much larger, and engraved into its smooth leather surface in flowing silver letters was Life.
“This is ideal for a woman in your situation,” he explained. “See how much bigger it is. You’ve got a lot more space to serve others. There’s a special pocket here to store your heart — I assume you’ve got it locked away in a box and you’ve given the key to your father?”
“Well…” she said hesitantly.
“Because you’re ready for a lot more responsibility, you’ll see that this one has lots of different sections. Here’s where you put your church ministry, here’s where you add your advanced homemaking skills, and don’t forget to fill up this baby pocket with lots and lots of longing! You’d be surprised at how many women in your stage of life don’t give any thought to wanting babies, but you can’t start too soon.”
She examined the bag with interest. “It’s really lovely, but I’m not sure it’s everything I need. I really, really love working in the yard…”
“You can put that with homemaking skills!”
“… and I’m really good at organizing events…”
“Church ministry! But you’ll need to tuck it way down so it doesn’t spill over into all the rest of the bag.”
“And… to be honest, I really want to learn to fly a plane. I’ve kind of looked into being a private pilot.”
The man paused. Then he cleared his throat. “I don’t think there’s really room for something like that. You could get your father to authorize an add-on for missions, but I’ll be honest with you, it’s bulky and doesn’t really fit.”
“But my brother’s accommodates all of that!”
“The men’s line is designed a little differently, of course.”
She fingered the soft leather. “I’d noticed that. Well, anyway, this won’t really work for me, because I’m getting married this summer.”
The clerk’s face lit up with excitement. “Really? Oh, you should have told me that to start with! You don’t need this old thing.” He swept the bag off the counter. Opening another cabinet door, he withdrew a leather bag so large that it took two arms to lift it onto the counter top.
It was made of leather, dyed deep red and purple, and fastened with brass. Surrounded by intricate scrollwork were real gold letters spelling out LIFE.
“This is everything you need!” the clerk exclaimed. “Look at this capacity–you’ll never run out of space for your desires! Lots of room for serving, huge section here for children, just look at your household work space! And right here–almost the entire middle section–is dedicated to your husband. You’ll have a lifetime job just filling this up!”
He looked at her expectantly, but she didn’t seem to share his enthusiasm. “There’s no room here for piloting a plane. Or organizing events. What about knowing God? I was hoping that my new bag would have a lot of space for that.”
“That’s the great thing about the patriarchy design,” the salesman said. “Watch this.”
He walked around to the front of the counter and opened two large double doors on the front. Using both hands, he extracted a rolling leather bag, reinforced with steel and decorated with images of swords. “This is the married man’s bag. It’s extra-double capacity because once a man is married, he’s basically responsible for everything relating to his wife and family. Pretty hefty weight to carry. Aren’t you glad you don’t have to worry about all this?”
“Well, I could help carry it.”
“Oh, no! This isn’t designed for a woman! But let me show you the best feature here.” He opened the man’s bag. Then he picked up the woman’s bag and tucked it inside. “See? It fits right there in the section for ‘spiritual maturity.’ As long as you keep all your things there, you’ll know everything you need to about God.”
She pointed to a small zip pocket on the side of the woman’s leather bag. “What’s that for?”
The salesman’s smile was bright. “You just stuff all your bad feelings in there and zip it up. That’s the feature that makes our design workable.”
The woman stood silently, taking it all in. Then she burst out, “But I don’t want to put all my stuff in there! And that’s way too heavy for my fiance! What happens if I have too much to fit? Or if his bag tears open?”
The clerk was no longer smiling. “I thought you were a serious customer.”
“I am! There’s just some serious flaws in your design.”
“Excuse me. It’s not my design. It’s God’s design. This is the way it works. You can go shopping at some other bag shop, but I warn you, those are badly-made and will rip open at a moment when you’re least expecting it. You’ll lose everything.”
She cleared her throat. “Just curious… have you ever used the woman’s bag to see how it really works?”
The salesman gave a short, derisive laugh. “Well, no. I don’t think God even uses it. He’s male too, you know. So, can I ring you up?”
“I… think I need to think about it.”
“I warn you, if you walk out of here, you walk away from this exclusively-designed line and away from the God who designed it!”
The woman shouldered her small bag again. “I think I saw God in some other places. He really seems too big to fit in here, actually. And so am I.” She turned and walked out of the shop.
Chapter One: You Need Both (and Also Manners)
“Men need respect, women need love.”
This is a current marriage-advice fad. It’s very popular in circles where marriage is a strict hierarchy, but oozes over into more mainstream Christian circles as well. It sounds like a cool insight, but it’s really like saying, “In order to survive, men need two hydrogens with their oxygen, women need oxygen with their two hydrogens.”
Can you really separate love and respect in a marriage?
Articles like this say you can. But read through it and ask yourself, How are these points any different from how a man would show “love” to his wife?
My husband, DJ, assures me that it’s incredibly important that he knows I respect him. Granted. And it’s incredibly important for me to know that he loves me. But I’ll go out on a limb here and say that he would be less satisfied if I gave him all due respect, but preferred sex with somebody else. And I’m very confident that even if he lavishes affection on me, but shot down all my statements as “childish,” then we would have problems. Why separate love and respect, as if a spouse can live on one but not the other?
(For the record: DJ never shows disrespect to my opinions, and I never jump into bed with anybody else.)
Another thing about this list is that it isn’t actually showing how a wife relates to her husband. It’s how a decent, civil person relates to people in general. If you have to be told to thank him for what he does for you, or don’t interrupt when he’s talking, your problem isn’t your marriage. It’s your basic social instincts.
So yes. Show respect to your husband. And love. And also use good manners.
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Chapter Two: The Missing Element
There’s a major aspect of this list, and all other lists like it, that bothers me. They all leave out a small but crucial bit of advice. Without that advice, the list becomes generic and sterile.
Allow me to rewrite the article and include the missing element.
25 Ways to Show Respect (and Love) to Your Husband
1 – 25: Spend time talking to each other. Find out who he is, what he likes, what his passions are, what his fears are, what makes him happy. He’ll do the same for you. Then both of you act on this knowledge.
Talk to each other.
I don’t know the person you married. I can’t write a list that will tell you how to respect (and love) your spouse the way he or she best understands it. That’s your job.
Glancing over this article, I find precious few suggestions that call for a woman to actually interact, on an adult and equal basis, with the man she married.
Instead of “choosing joy” or “not complaining” when you’re upset, communicate about it. If he’s hurt you, tell him in a mature and gentle way. If your bad mood has nothing to do with him, let him know — and release both of you from the responsibility of being happy for the time being. Talk about it.
Instead of “keeping the house tidy” or “prepare his favorite foods,” find out what’s important to your husband. My husband doesn’t much care about a cluttered house, but he loves coming home to a hot supper. Your man might not care a thing about fresh-baked biscuits, but would appreciate having time to work in the yard on weekends. Guess how you find that out? Talk to him.
Instead of “being content,” sit down and talk to each other about what your priorities and goals are. Some couples want lots of children, lots of land, and lots of space. Others want a small family and a quirky apartment in the city. I don’t know what you or your husband wants, and neither will you if you don’t talk about it.
Instead of “respond physically” (that’s the squeamish Christian way of referring to anything sexual), let each other know how you feel. Are you in the mood, too worn out, not feeling well, wanting something different? Do you like hugs or not? What does he like in bed? What do you like in bed? I sure as heck don’t know, and I’m not asking. You should talk to each other about it! It’s important. And also can be really fun.
Go through the article I linked to, and insert the sentence Talk about it for each one. That’s how you build a good marriage.
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Note #1: If you can’t address important issues with each other, or if you can’t talk without getting into a fight, it has nothing to do with how well you’re following a list, or God, or whatever. It means both of you need to see a good counselor. One who can show you how to talk to each other.
Note #2: For the record, I object to #25 in principle, which reads:
“Follow His Lead
If you want your husband to lead, you must be willing to follow. Neither a body nor a family can function well with two heads. Learn to defer to your husband’s wishes and let final decisions rest with him.”
Alternatively, talk about your decisions together and come to a decision together. Sometimes you defer to him. Sometimes he defers to you. If you consistently hit a gridlock where only one person can ever make the final decision, it’s not a sign of a godly marriage. It’s a sign that you need a good counselor.
Poor Delilah. Ever since her tragic romance with Samson, her name has been synonymous with a scheming, treacherous woman.
I think she deserves better.
Full disclosure: I’m reacting to more than just Delilah’s age-old reputation here. As a teenager, I sat under people who taught us that we women are dangerous to men. Not because we’re smart or competitive or even manipulative, but because we have female-shaped bodies. Men are weak to female-shaped bodies; trying to talk to, reason with, or relate to a man while existing in our female bodies made us dangerous.
And they backed it up with The Bible, as follows:
Adam ate the fruit that Eve, deceived by Satan, offered him. Samson told Delilah the secret of his strength. David saw Bathsheba and had her brought to his bed. Solomon had thousands of wives for political advantage, and eventually worshiped their gods. These men made conscious decisions against their own moral compass or common sense, often influenced by women.
See? Women! You see who’s at fault here.
You see why I am reacting here.
Still, if you know the story of Samson and Delilah, you’re going to point out that Delilah wasn’t exactly a shrinking little mouse in the drama. Here’s a quick recap:
Samson was a big strong manly Israelite. He had unusual strength; as a child, he was dedicated to God. In acknowledgement of his bond to God, he kept himself ritually clean, didn’t drink alcohol, and never cut his hair.
He was a hero among his people because they lived under the oppression of the Philistines at the time. Samson was invincible, and he wreaked havoc on the Philistine people. Israel loved him.
Which was good of them. Because Samson was dumb. Good heavens, was this man dumb. He had one default approach to any situation:”Can I get sex out of this? No? KILL!”
After various sex-and-violence vacations into Philistine territory, including an ill-fated marriage, he settled in with Delilah.
Who was Delilah, anyway?
The Bible doesn’t really say, but it’s pretty safe to assume she was a prostitute. What she wasn’t was dumb. She knew how to survive in a world where she was good for one thing only. Apparently Samson provided protection and money. Maybe she was lonely and enjoyed him. She knew a good thing when she got it.
But the Philistine leaders persuaded her to find out the secret of Samson’s great strength. She tried several different times, wheedling and manipulating him, while he gave her all the wrong answers. Finally she wore him down and he revealed his secret: if he cut his hair, he would lose his superstrength.
While he slept, Delilah shaved his head. She called on the Philistine leaders, and watched them drag him away and throw him in prison. That devious, wicked, manipulating jade proved to be a strong man’s fatal weakness.
And how did the Philistine leaders persuade her? Well, they offered her a whole lot of money. 1100 pieces of silver each, in fact.
But hang on. Two chapters back, we find out that Samson married a Philistine woman. At the wedding party, he presented a riddle; if nobody could answer it, they had to pay through the nose. So the men went to his new wife and said, “Find out the answer to the riddle or we’ll burn your father’s house with you in it.” She hounded him and Samson eventually caved, but got mad and went back to Israel — without her. One thing led to another, ending with Samson’s wife and her family burned to death in their house.
So now it’s Delilah’s turn. She wasn’t being threatened by young punks at a wedding party; she was standing before the leaders of the city. I suppose the conversation could have gone like this:
“No. I can’t betray him.”
“Well, okay, we see your point. We’ll find some other way to get him. Oh, and Delilah… say hi to your family for us. We know where they live.”
As my husband says, they held a big carrot and a big stick. Seems to me that her options were: betray Samson, get filthy rich; or refuse to cooperate, and seal her and her family’s doom.
She could have confessed to Samson and asked him to protect her. But he was no Boaz, who watched out for Ruth, made sure she was okay, and finally married her. Samson would have hung around long enough to slaughter a few Philistines because that’s what he did for fun. But this was the man who abandoned his wife just because she made him lose his stupid riddle.
She could have tried to run away. That would have worked! Because just like today, it’s so easy for a woman to escape dangerous men, especially with her children and family in tow. Back then, no problem — she’d just leave the city and die in the wilderness, assuming the Philistine leaders didn’t track her down first.
But who says Delilah was such a great person herself? Maybe she was a poison-tongued, complaining, selfish shrew. Maybe so. I certainly don’t point to her relationship with a violent, selfish man, and her accomplished manipulation, as a good model for the young women in my life.
But that’s not why she’s got such a bad reputation. She’s got a bad reputation because she used her considerable feminine wiles to get around a man’s defenses. Never mind that he knew very well what she was up to. Never mind that she was trying to survive.
She, as a woman, was dangerous to a man.
That’s a generalization that most of us reject nowadays. Possibly it’s time to rethink Delilah as well.
My novel opens with:
A virtuous heart keeps an orderly home.
I made up that quote. But the idea that a good Christian woman will keep a good Christian house is pretty common even out of Fellowship-like circles. Witness this quote from a couple of Elizabeths:
“I love what author Elisabeth Elliot said, ‘A sloppy life speaks of a sloppy faith.’ We’re careful in our faith…careful to tend to our spiritual growth, careful to obey God’s Word, and careful to maintain the spiritual disciplines of prayer, worship, and giving. So why shouldn’t we also be careful of how we manage our homes? That’s not a put-down. Far from it! Creating a safe and comfortable place for your family and yourself is a privilege and significant accomplishment.” –Elizabeth George
Do I enjoy a clean house? Yes. Do I want my home to be safe and comfortable for my family? Yes. Do I consider it a reflection of my spiritual state if I let clutter build up on the table, don’t vacuum the floor, and don’t clean the pencil marks off the wall?
NO.
I’m sorry, Elisabeth Elliot and Elizabeth George, but you’re wrong. You’re taking a societal standard and making it a spiritual requirement.
The standards of society change, but every generation has its own set of “virtue indicators.” These days, it’s more along the lines of eating “clean,” avoiding classist/racist sentiments, and accepting everyone’s choices as a universal good. Nobody actually does this perfectly, but the better show you put on, the more virtue you seem to have.
But just like having a clean house doesn’t get you anywhere closer to God, neither does avoiding processed foods or using the term “First Peoples.”
Good things are good. Do them. God things are God’s. Do those. Sometimes there will be an overlap. But I’m all done letting anyone — revered Christian writer or not — tell me that I have to live up to the standards of modern America in order to please the God of all Eternity.
Once, during the years I was part of my own real-life “Fellowship,” I and several others were being trained to teach a children’s class.
The leader asked if anyone knew a particular story from the Old Testament. I volunteered to tell it, and it was a great moment in my life. I made everyone laugh, then sigh, then grow quiet at the heartbreaking ending. The leader was really impressed, and said so.
The next day, he asked for another story. I volunteered again. The leader gave me a brief smile, then asked, “Any guys want to try?”
Not “anyone else,” but “any guys.”
It was a subtle rebuke to all those guys who didn’t volunteer.
Hang on. Isn’t it reasonable to assume that the leader just wanted participation from the guys as well as the girls?
Not in the world of Christian patriarchy.
Everyone there had been schooled in the same teachings. We all knew that the guys were supposed to be taking the lead — in spiritual matters, in teaching, in marriage, and in life. Girls were supposed to submit to their fathers’ or husbands’ authority. In practice, they were taught to defer to men in general as well.
I was once told, “Where women move in, men move out.” The speaker was talking about the real estate business, which in the late 90s was heavily populated by women. That was why you didn’t want to let women move into professions like piloting, politics, and military. Because men would move away to something else, leaving women in charge. And you know what a disaster that would be.
Wait, you don’t know?
We were assured it was the worst thing that could happen to our churches and our nation. God didn’t want women in charge. All kinds of (unspecified) calamities would result as soon as “feminists” got control.
(Nobody addressed the fact that the world was already in pretty rotten shape with men in charge.)
Every female character in the Bible was forced through the grid of “submissive to authority” or not. One day I’ll devote a post to explaining how Abigail was bad, Esther a compromiser, and Deborah a reluctant leader. Ruth generally came out okay if you glossed over the story enough. But for here, I’ll just say that all of us young people understood the same “truth”: that a woman was always second place to a man.
So when a young woman stood up and did a top-notch job telling a Bible story, the young men in the audience couldn’t just say, “Good job!” and let it go. No, she’d laid down a challenge: someone had to get up there and do it too. Preferably better.
And not just “someone,” either. Some guy.
And please, woman, from now on — keep your gifts and your voice in check when men are present.
Which is entirely inspiring to the rest of us who are not beautiful like her.
Seeing as I’m only beautiful like me, I’m willing to give this a shot. I don’t even need a million men to tell me. I’ll settle for, I don’t know, fifty? Okay go!
Oh, hang on, do I have to be in her particular state of undress for the occasion?
And you know who that princess is? Taylor Swift, who made her fortune singing lovelorn songs about men.
Also, in meme-world, there’s no such thing as a confident yet gracious woman. Either you’re a limp noodle or you’re a bitch. And either way, you’d best have a decent figure.
So no need to worry about the fact that you’re sitting on an uneven pier, wearing only a towel. You probably won’t fall in till tomorrow.
Friend who sent meme: …And not do stupid stuff. Or at least not lose our balance while doing stupid stuff.
Me: I was trying to think of a comment to follow up yours, but yours just captures the moment so well.
Friend: Moment is right. That fleeting moment where you convinced yourself you are, in fact, the ultimate powerful great dreamer. And then your foot slips.
And in the hustle and bustle of the undreaming city below, nobody even hears your final, gravity-induced scream.
Me: I don’t think you’re going to be hired to write memes.
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That finishes up my current supply of memes. Send me more, and I’ll mock ’em.
One of the most endearing qualities of the meme, especially ones about women’s empowerment, is that their pictures distract from, or sometimes completely undercut, their own message.
They almost always involve women in various states of undress.
I am, therefore, compelled to mock them.
But… she’s not up. It’s an epic takedown by origami paper cranes. “The birds of the air shall peck out your eyes… but, you know, budget cuts. We can afford only paper cranes to chew on your toenails.”
You could even find yourself mostly naked and caught in what looks like a tarp made of spider webs. Count your blessings!
Because now I’m looking for my pants. Honey, where’s my pants?
Heck, if I had been able to lie in a comfy bed with a happy baby and no other kids demanding my attention, I’d have totally rocked that “glue” thing too.
Nobody said you were weak. We just suggested you might want to sleep on one bed at the time. And nobody said you were giving up! We’re sure you’ll find your pants if you just keep looking.
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For previous Mock-A-Memes, go here.
Turns out there are a lot of memes needing to be mocked, and I guess it’s up to me to do it.
But what is Mock-A-Meme, why is it on this page, and what happened to #’s 1-17?
Here’s the deal. About a year ago, I ran a regular series on another blog in which I would collect memes and make fun of them. It was like a big party every Monday. Or, you know, like a mildly amusing text from a friend.
Then The Fellowship took up most of my online energy, and I wrapped up the series.
Still, friends have continued to send me mockable memes. I went through my files today and found a significant backlog. It’s the holidays, I thought. A time for frivolity, joy, and mocking stuff. (I made up that last part.)
I started a new post, only to discover that I’d uploaded all the pictures onto this blog instead of my other one. Faced with the prospect of moving all those files again via my slow netbook, I made a decision: Mock-A-Meme would work just fine on my author blog.
So here you go. Some good old-school Mock-A-Memes until I use up my current supply. Enjoy!
And honey, that even includes the person who stole your shirt and your bra and left you with only a resuable grocery bag to wear to the beach.
You can tell she’s strong-minded because she’s wearing a dragon-scale ring, which is the universal symbol for “strong-minded woman.” Either that or “I have no need to bend my third finger.”
But walking away is hard to do, people. First you’ve got to get a dynamite figure, then you’ve got to buy a filmy white dress, and then you have to go to a beach and practice mincing. (And… is that an elf ear she’s got?)
Also, in meme-world, social conventions dictate that you have to bare one shoulder at the beach. It’s really embarrassing to show up fully dressed.
God will, of course, provide you with friends who are all your same age, height, and hair color.
She’s got enough terrible decisions going here to make an alphabetized set of books. But okay, I admit it. This one made me laugh.
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Click here for Mock-A-Meme #19.
To read the previous 17 posts, I’ve collected them here.
During my teenage years in a Fellowship-like system, I was given an assignment on “courtship.” No, I didn’t get to court anybody, although I was desperately interested in the idea. My assignment was to research a romantic couple in literature and explain how they did or didn’t follow the Biblical principles of courtship. Then, as a contrast, I was to highlight a Biblical couple who did follow the principles of authority-led courtship.
As a quick recap, the brand of courtship that my camp espoused went something like this, (not necessarily in these exact words):
With this courtship formula in mind, I chose Romeo and Juliet as my cautionary couple, and Ruth and Boaz as my shining example.
Whatever I thought I learned at the time, some lessons now stand out very clearly all these years later:
Basically, this whole assignment shot itself in the foot. While Romeo and Juliet failed to follow the proper steps of courtship and DIED, I learned that the Bible didn’t, in fact, lay out a correct method of romance. This lesson opened the way for me to interpret courtship so liberally that when the time came that I actually did court a man, I exercised all kinds of self-agency in my decision-making. I entered marriage fairly well-prepared for life as an equal partner to my husband.
So while I wasn’t as bad as Juliet, I still completely failed at courtship. I’m pretty sure Ruth was proud of me.
Why, yes, I’m really pleased with my post title, thanks.
Sara Roberts Jones 