Welcome to Wading in the Waters of the Word™ with A Women’s Lectionary

Gentle Readers, Followers, Preachers, Pray-ers, Thinkers and Visitors, Welcome!

Welcome to this space where you can share your worship – liturgy and preaching – preparations – using  A Women’s Lectionary for the Whole Church. We begin in Advent 2021 with Year W, a single, standalone Lectionary volume that includes readings from all four Gospels. (We will continue with Year A in Advent 2022 to align with the broader Church.) In advance of each week, I will start the conversation and set the space for you all. I will come through time to time, but this is your space. Welcome!

Media Resources

A Women’s Lectionary For The Whole Church

Session 1, October 16, 2021
Rev. Wil Gafney, PhD at Myers Park Baptist Church

Plenary 1 | Translating Women Back Into Scripture for A #WomensLectionary
This session introduces participants to frequently unexamined aspects of biblical translation in commonly available bibles and the intentional choices made in “A Women’s Lectionary for the Whole Church.”

A Women’s Lectionary For The Whole Church

Session 2, October 16, 2021
Rev. Wil Gafney, PhD at Myers Park Baptist Church

Plenary 2 | Reading Women in Scripture for Preaching, Study, and Devotion
This session provides an overview of “A Women’s Lectionary for the Whole Church,” its genesis, production, and content. There is also an in-depth exploration of specific passages appointed for specific days including time for public and private reading and discussion.

Lectionary Lectio

Click the Comment links to add to the conversation

Give Us A King Not A Prophet

7 July, Proper 9, AWL (A Women’s Lectionary for the Whole Church)

 

1 Samuel 8:1, 4–18; Psalm 72:1–4, 12–14, 18–19; 1 Timothy 2:1–6; John 6:14–20

Streamed 9:30 HST

May the preached word draw us into the written word wherein all might encounter the living Word. Amen.

How are these sacred ancestral texts to help us to live in this world? Mere days after many here and mainland celebrated Independence Day, we read in our first lesson a story about a form of government we don’t have any more and, didn’t want when we did; to the point of a violent revolution from one perspective or a rebellion from another.

Here on this aina and on our sister islands, monarchy is more than a foreign system of domination and is still a tender and pressing issue. We cannot talk about monarchy in these ainas without acknowledging the overthrow of aupuni o Hawaii by white outsiders to steal its land and its future wealth they didn’t see its brown kanaka o Hawaii, worthy or capable of stewarding, but also, straight up greed; a coup facilitated by members of the US government. And at the same time, the question of how we as a nation are governed and will be governed is as urgent and a pressing question as is how we are led in the Church.  

In the Samuel lesson the people were at a crossroads. Their system of government was not working for them. Not because it failed to meet their needs but because they just didn’t want it anymore. And the slate of candidates was undesirable; they were unfit in some ethical, moral or religious manner because they were not walking before and following after God in the same way as the prophet Samuel. So not only were the only candidates undesirable, but the incumbent was old. And when they said old, they meant fit to die at any moment. Though there is nothing in the text that says that Samuel was infirm or failing in anyway. They were simply dismissive of the wise old uncle who had led them for so many years, dismissive of the wisdom of his elder years.

Samuel’s sons were not prophets like Samuel, Deborah and Moses; they were not capable of standing between God and the people, speaking to each on behalf of each other and crying out to the one on behalf of the other one. Though there were judges between Moses and Deborah and, there were judges between Deborah and Samuel there were no other judges who were also prophets except for Moses, Deborah and Samuel. So even if Samuel’s sons were appointed as judges, their leadership would not have been rooted in the way of God in the same way as their father.

But the people didn’t ask for a prophet-judge like Moses, Deborah or Samuel. The people looked at their Iron Age neighbors and said what we want is an warlord-king, not a King Charles king, or a King Kamehameha king. We want the kind of king you see in the barbarian movies. We want a loud, ostentatious, gold plated strong man. And Samuel’s feelings were hurt on behalf of God. But God doesn’t need our protection. We need each other’s protection. We make choices that affect each other like choices in leadership and, more significantly, choices that affect the most vulnerable among us. Samuel spends the rest of the lesson telling the people the consequences of their choice, all the ways in which they would be defrauded and exploited because of their own choices. Or at least the choices of some of them. The text says, “the people” but we will never know for sure who was counted and who wasn’t. Who voted and who didn’t, but that is another sermon.

Then as though we were watching a movie and the screen fades to black with the words, “A hundred years later…Solomon.” The psalmist is praying for a newly designated leader, likely leading public prayer, perhaps at the very moment the mantle of leadership is figuratively draped around his shoulders. One the one hand, the job description revealed in the psalmist’s prayer reflects Iron Age cultural understanding of desired leadership characteristics. On the other hand the psalm is shade against the previous – or even current occupant of the throne. Near the end of the psalm it becomes clear that all is not well in the community and there are urgent needs that they imagine only a leader can meet or see met and problems that only the right leader can fix.

Whether this psalm was written for Solomon in response to the violent exploitation of David’s rule or for an unknown future ruler, woman or man – based on the financial exploitation and neglect of Solomon’s rule, this psalm is still both hopeful prayer and job description for the next commander-in-chief. In our current election cycle it is worthwhile to reiterate these scriptural, biblical, values: righteous judgements, not only decision-making but also devising and implementing legal statutes and national and international policies where the primary goal is is to be just and more specifically, prioritizing the needs of the poor, the needy and the oppressed who have been reduced to and kept in that state by financial and political violence against them including but not limited to open warfare actual and virtual enslavement, wages unequal to the level of work and wage theft of those impoverished wages. The biblical measure of what is just is whether is it is just for the poor – even if it cost the wealthy something to render that justice.

Then the screen fades to black again and the words, “More than 1000 years later…” appear. In the pastoral letter, written by a person who felt another leader’s name would get more attention and who wrote under that name rather than their own, the Church is called to perpetual prayer for leaders as we do in this Church and will do in this service. Ruling aint easy. Kinging aint easy. Queening aint easy. Presiding Bishop-ing aint easy. Regular Bishop-ing aint easy. Presidenting aint easy. Leading aint easy. These folk need prayer, whether you voted for them or not. Some of them need more prayer than others and some seem to be beyond the reach of prayer, yet the Church is called to persistent faithful prayer whether or not we see the fruit of our prayer in our lifetime.

I come from a people who prayed for liberation from enslavement for 400 years. That means that people prayed and died and still were not free; and their children prayed and died and still were not free; and their children prayed and died and they did not see liberation but they and their children kept on praying. Pray church. And don’t stop. Pray until the last prayer leaves your lips and trust that the saints will continue in the ministry of prayer after your death.

And now, the black screen says, “Present Day, 30 or 31 CE…” In the Gospel there is a story about Jesus who we have been trained to think of as our perfect leader, who seems not to want to lead [us] in this story and who runs away from leadership and – if we read ourselves into the text – and runs away from us.

Jesus, guerilla theologian, itinerant street corner preacher, funeral disruptor, mic dropping scripture reader, socialist distributer of loaves and fishes, from the wrong side of the wrong town whose mama had a bad reputation, Jesus, Mary’s baby and Joseph’s maybe, Jesus was doing the work called for by Psalm 72; Jesus was the opposite of the leader Samuel warned the people about. And the people around him in the Gospel lesson knew a good thing when they saw it. They knew a God thing when they saw it. Some people will always want to read this as the people just wanted free governmental subsidies and handouts of loaves and fishes. There are people who mock the poverty and hunger of the poor and hungry. There are folk who use all the power invested in them by their fellow citizens to make it hard for a poor mama to feed her children. There are folk who seem to want the poor to subsist on gruel and boiled potatoes, who get outraged if a person on public assistance uses the funds available to them to buy a source of protein that they think is too good for the poor like steak or shrimp.

But what those who work with the hungry know is that you can’t live up to your full potential if you’re hungry; a child can’t reach their full physical stature or meet their academic learning goals if they’re hungry. There’s nothing wrong with wanting a stable and reliable source of food in perpetuity. That’s not greed; that’s not laziness. That’s the foundation for a society in which basic needs are met and people then can use their creative genius and imagination and hard-working hands to build a society that addresses the other pressing needs of humanity and steward the planet entrusted to us, steward these beautiful ainas entrusted to us.

The folk in the gospel reading just wanted not to have to worry about their basic survival every day, at least not from famine, starvation and malnutrition because the Roman occupation, the kind of empire that kings and kingdoms grew up to become, was doing enough to threaten their lives, limbs and liberty every day. The people of ancient Israel asked for a king and they got kings and the queen who ruled as a king and, they got gobbled up by stronger kings who got gobbled up by even stronger kings and they had to endure the insult of having their kings appointed by puppet-master foreign kings but, they couldn’t or wouldn’t let go of the idea that a king was all they needed if they could just get the right one.

And here we are with an election looming. It would be so easy to read and hear and preach these texts at or about candidates. But God has called all of us to delve more deeply in the waters of the Word and get beyond Baby Beach Bible interpretation. The hard word out beyond the safety of the lagoon is, that we idolize women and men who have no deep and abiding connection to God. We are still looking for kings and not prophets. In America we kill our prophets. And some of us think that if we elect a good king everything will be all right, at least for some of us. But we have not wrestled seriously with the theologically and ethically bankrupt institution that is the kind of monarchy these texts are talking about. The kind our American ancestors – to the degree that they were the ancestors of any of us – escaped and that kind of neo-monarchy some are seeking to impose at this very moment on the US political system.

And for thousands of years, millennia even, we and our scripture writing biblical ancestors have tried to force God into a king shaped box because the strongest and mightiest figure they could see in their world was a king and they imagined that God was just like them only bigger and richer. But our imaginations have taken us from the Iron Age to the stars so we need not be so limited in our thinking or language about God. Indeed the scriptures offer us a wealth of other descriptive language: Ancient Of Days, Judge of all Flesh, Rock Who Gave Us Birth, Ark of Safety, Fire of Sinai  –  Language that we have allowed languish, focusing on the power, privilege and prestige associated with kings.

And that is why Jesus didn’t want to be made a king. It’s good to be king. Kings take. But Jesus gives. A king will take your sister, wife or daughter. A king will take and tax your crops. But Jesus gives the Bread of Heaven and earthly food to the hungry. A king will take your life if you get in his way, but Jesus gives eternal life.

We may have presidents and not kings, but we are not immune to power grabs and throne games. I would go so far as to say the violence we have seen in this country is nothing more than an empire striking back against those who talk back and its cabal of would-be kings fighting to maintain their power base, patriarchal white supremacy, at any cost. At the cost of voting rights, at the cost of free speech and at the cost of the right to protest. At the cost of black lives. At the cost of indigenous lives. At the cost of trans lives. At the cost of women’s right to make their own decisions about their own bodies without being objectified, fetishized or criminalized.

Heir to a majesty the word “kingdom” does not fully contain, Jesus came to love us into life, a life that transcends death. Jesus came knowing that love with no limitations or pre-conditions is terrifying to those whose only currency is fear and death. And he came anyway. Jesus came to be with us, as us, God with us. He came knowing the cost of his radical life and love was police brutality, conviction in a crooked court by an unjust judge and a shameful, painful, humiliating death. This human, mortal, woman-born Jesus is the glory and majesty of God, a majesty in human flesh before which every human crown must be set aside and, every earthly throne abandoned. That humanness, shared with every girl and woman, boy and man, nonbinary and trans child and adult, is the majesty of Christ and our own.

The choice is before us. Choose wisely. Amen.

 

Jesus, Jeremiah and Joan of Arc

 

Let us pray: In the Name of the Author, the Word and the Translator. Amen.

I’m not who you think I am. You celebrate me now. But I remember when you didn’t. I know where I came from and you never let me forget it. I hear my family’s shame every time you call my name: Jeremiah ben Hilkiah of Anathoth.   

It’s not my fault my ancestors chose the losing side. Adonijah ben David, David’s boy, was a fine strapping prince of a man. And with David lying impotent on his deathbed, and I do mean impotent – there was that pretty girl they brought him in hopes of stirring something up who left unmolested. As David lay there not having designated an heir, Adonijah declared himself king and my ancestor Abiathar the high priest backed his play. Then Bathsheba walked into the room with the kind of dignity that cannot be taught but only lived and told David that he had named her son Solomon as his successor, but there was no record of that. And then the prophet Nathan came in as they had prearranged and said the same thing. Everyone could see it was a set-up, everyone but David.

So, Adonijah went down and took my ancestors with him, they were exiled to Anathoth – I guess it was better than execution. But Anathoth? You know Anathoth. No one does. But back then, everyone knew it was in Benjamin, bad news Benjamin. Benjamin, the home of the failed king Saul. Benjamin, the site of an unspeakable crime against a Levite’s wife. Benjamin, where the first Israelite civil war that turned brother against brother was fought. Benjamin who was almost wiped off the map. Benjamin who turned to trafficking women and kidnapping girls – sometimes their own relatives – to breed themselves back into existence. That’s where I’m from. It’s all there in the very first line of my memoir: The words of Jeremiah ben Hilkiah, of the priests who were in Anathoth in the land of Benjamin. If you know how to read in the gaps and between the lines and behind the text, it’s all there. My time traveling friend, Dr. Gafney, says that a text without a context is a pre-text. So I thought I should remind you who I am, who my people are as you say down here, and what my first readers and hearers and knew about me and my story and, why the folk in my time treated me the way they did. So you understand why I am still preaching the same sermon, to you all here today.

I was like Joan of Arc, while I was alive I was treated like a false prophet and even put on death row. Unlike Saint Joan, I survived. But only because one of the elders said that there was a real prophet named Micah who had the same critique of Jerusalem and its shining temple as I did. That wasn’t even the only time I was put in jail. Or the only time I was beaten. I couldn’t even go to my grave in peace. I was kidnapped by the very people who did not receive me as their prophet and taken to Egypt where I died. Some say I was martyred there. Those are stories for another day. After my death, like Joan of Arc, they pretty much made me a saint and published fifty-two chapters of my memoire.

Like Joan, while I was preaching, I was essentially a country bumpkin with dreams of making it big in the big city. I even told God once that I didn’t want to prophesy to poor people; I didn’t think they even knew the teachings of God – it never occurred to me to teach them. But with the boldness and brashness of youth I told God to send me to rich people. That I thought wealth and wisdom went together tells you something about how desperately poor I must’ve been in my youth.

I said, “These are only the poor, they have no sense;
for they do not know the way of the Holy One of Old,
the Torah, the teaching, of their God.
Let me go to the rich, the great, and speak to them;
surely they know the way of the Holy One of Old,
the Torah, the teaching, of their God.” (Jer. 5:4-5)

I went to Jerusalem, the big city, full of vim and vigor with my fresh calling and the promise of God to speak through my lips and my less than prestigious seminary degree and, I realized they had all gone astray, rich and poor, great and small alike. I preached in the city gates because they wouldn’t let someone like me, with my pedigree, anywhere near the temple. But the temple, oh! It was the grandest thing I had ever seen. It soared into the sky until it touched the very foundation of heaven. It was trimmed with more gold than I had ever seen in my life. And the entire population of my small town was walking in and out of its gates and colonnades and praying in its courtyards.

And the priests whose ancestor Zadok backed Solomon never gave me so much as a passing glance even though I was a priest too. I was from the wrong side of the tracks. And everybody knew it. I couldn’t even read and write. But I had a special friend, his name was Baruch and he wrote everything down for me. They always let him in the gates. (Jer. 36:4-18)  One time, he took my best sermon in and got an audience with the king and the king burned the entire first draft of my book. (Jer. 36:22-26) Then they tried to arrest me, again. God got me out that time. But that is another story.

God called me to Jerusalem but not to be invited to serve at the temple, God called me to preach against the temple and Jerusalem. People thought I was just being petty because of my background. They didn’t take me seriously, they didn’t understand. God had told me that Jerusalem, where God had once promised that their unspeakable Name would dwell forever, would fall because of the rottenness within. So I got as close as they would let me and I preached the words you heard today:

For if you all truly reform your ways and your doings, if you all truly do what is just between one person and another, if you all do not oppress the immigrant, the orphan, and the widow, or pour out innocent blood in this place…then I will dwell with you all in this place…

When I first preached those words like most of my people, I believed that there was only one place in which God would dwell. That place has become a battlefield. It has never known any peace longer than the forty years of rest the warrior-prophet Deborah won for it 600 years before my time.

From the moment God drew the land out of the waters of her womb and assigned guardianship and stewardship to the creatures she crafted out of it, the land was always and ever only a sacred trust, the obligation to care for it was the inheritance. But somewhere along the way people began to think of the land as God’s gift for them and only them, no matter who was already living in it. That’s why I preached, “Do not trust in them, these deceptive words: “This is the temple of the Holy One, the temple of the Holy One, the temple of the Holy One.” Don’t imagine that this temple will always stand or that it is even the only place in which God may be found.

But they didn’t listen. And, Judah fell. The temple was ravished. And the people, my people, they were also ravished in every way. It was a bloodbath. Not even children were spared. And people argued theology, not as an academic exercise but as a way of understanding the world into which they had been thrust. Where was God? How could she let this happen? Is it really true that if bad things happen to you it’s because you deserve it? That is what the old preachers used to say, but I’m not so sure about that. Having seen the desecration of war I know that no one deserves the horrors that war brings to an entire people even if there are those within the midst who are guilty of atrocity themselves.

Dr. Gafney asked me to tell you my story because it’s not too late for you. For some of you, America is a temple that will never fall. You sing, “God bless America,” and trust that your wealth and military might, your vote and your democracy, will protect you and the American way will endure forever – and let’s be clear, some of it needs to fall. But God’s prophets are still preaching the same message: do not oppress the immigrant, the orphan, and the widow, or pour out innocent blood in this place.

Yet do you pour out the blood of innocents, daily. With your idolization of handguns and unequal access to healthcare and weaponization of food and famine you are no better than the Babylonians or the Assyrians. You are your own enslaving empire, trapping people in poverty and prosecuting them to death when they lash out in rage and frustration.

You build walls instead of welcome centers and on this Earth Day, pollute rivers with barbed wire and concrete, letting people die, letting children drown, rather than cross to safety, the dubious and insecure safety of the American empire built on stolen land, on the bones of the Coahuiltecans and Karankawa of the Rio Grande Valley, by the blood, sweat and tears of stolen people and the immigrants who followed them. What are you protecting? Nothing you have belongs to you. You did not create a single ray of sunshine or drop of petroleum. You did not endow yourself or your species with the competency to invent the combustion engine or the iPhone. This land is not yours! You are stewards. And the God who seeks to dwell with you in this place shall surely come for an accounting of your stewardship.

The promise God spoke through me to Jerusalem is still binding on anyone who enters the gates of any sanctuary to worship God, who by their action or inaction oppresses the widow, orphan or poor. My people were a perpetually oppressed people – except when we oppressed other peoples and sometimes we oppressed our own folk over petty distinctions and divisions, always seeking an “us” and a “them.” Our scriptures were texts of resistance to oppression; that’s why they still speak across the ages, because neither God nor humanity has changed.

We had an entire vocabulary of oppression. We had more than a dozen different words to describe the ways in which we were oppressed and oppressed each other. Today I am talking about economic oppression. That is what I was preaching about in this sermon almost 2500 years ago. Today there are more temples of different kinds soaring into the heavens and there are even more schemes to defraud the poor, keep the vulnerable vulnerable and the marginalized on the margins.

My people were so mired in structural patriarchy that they could not see that they created the very systems of indebtedness and insecurity that made widowhood a virtual death sentence. Yes there were women who survived patriarchy or carved out a life that was not subject to it, but only a few like Delilah and Judith rode off into the sunset with their lives in their own hands. God knows most widows and single mothers and grandparents raising their grandkids don’t have it like that.

In this Black Maternal Healthcare Month, we need to be reminded that, as the psalmist – who was most definitely not David said: God is Mother of orphans and defender of widows. (Psalm 68:4 (5)) Well, the manuscripts say “father” but since Job taught us that the only reproductive organ that God has in the scriptures is a womb (Job 38:8, 29), we will cut Dr. Gafney a little slack with her translation. The point is that God is invested in the wellbeing of women, particularly those who do not have what they need to make it in this world, to survive, thrive and flourish – [and that is not a man. Y’all are not back in the Iron Age with me, why are your social and sexual politics and theology so prehistoric?]

In my time an orphan was a fatherless child because of how nearly impossible it was for a woman to provide for herself and her children without a man. But today you have orphans who have both parents living. You have children and teens who are orphaned by parents and churches and school boards who don’t respect the plurality and transformational promise of their precious lives. Queer kids are bullied to death, denied healthcare or even the medical necessity of a bathroom, left to fend for themselves against idol worshiping politicians bringing the full might of this evil empire down on their sanctified heads. They who in some ways most closely reflect God’s first human creation, full of potentiality, containing the full rainbow prism of transformational possibility in one flesh.

But there was a man from Galilee who said, “I shall not leave you orphaned.” (John 14:22) Jesus is God come to dwell with us, the promise of God fulfilled. Jesus is the love of God incarnate. Jesus is the justice of God made manifest through the injustice of the cross. Empires will fall and the Church may fail but Jesus will save the oppressed and the oppressor, if you all truly reform your ways. Amen.

4 Easter Year C, A Women’s Lectionary for the Whole Church, Earth Day

Saint Luke’s Episcopal Church, Atlanta

Jeremiah 7:1–7; Psalm 68:4–11; 1 Timothy 5:1–4, 8; John 14:18–24