Sexism and Inclusion

When "all" means "all" - even when we don't like it

This will not be a news flash to most of you, but here it is: Sexism is alive and well and living among us, sometimes in the most surprising places.

My latest encounter with the virility of sexism was on Sunday. The Sabbath Day. It was my delight to be part of a small group of five people who were hosting Hospitality/Coffee Hour. We had a wonderful menu, which included an egg, sausage, and cheese casserole, stuffed mushroom caps, a variety of sandwiches, and a lovely array of desserts, including two huge pans of a fabulous homemade peach cobbler.

We were about halfway through our event when he approached me, motioning at my outfit with his hands, as if a fashion designer describing the outfit of a model on a runway. I was wearing an apron, as I always do when I’m around food. Besides, I was wearing white pants and a summer orange shirt. My momma didn’t raise no fool.

”Ah,” he said with a smile that suspiciously resembled a sneer at the corners, “now, THIS is how a woman should dress for church.”

Not sure where he was going with this, but waiting for the “punchline,” I said, “Oh?”

”Yes,” he said, “and NOT in clericals.” And then, he turned and walked away.

I was stunned. Turns out, his punchline packed quite a punch. No, I don’t think it was a sick form of a “joke”. There was a real “gotcha” vibe about what he said.

I wasn’t certain what to do or say, but by the time the profanities formed in my brain, it was mercifully too late to engage my mouth. I was spared making the scene I would have no doubt made had I been a few seconds faster on my feet.

I know the man is a former (perhaps still) Lutheran. He’s married to a retired (male) Lutheran Pastor, who, as I recall, is ELCA. I’m guessing he is Missouri Synod.

That helps understand his context. That does not provide an excuse. There is never an excuse for sexism. Anywhere. Anytime. By anyone. But especially in church.

I’ve been spending some time, off and on since Sunday, in thought and prayer about what to do. I confess, the air has often turned blue as I’ve sputtered and spat and cursed. There are pros and cons to various strategies.

Here’s what I’m very clear about: I will not allow him to drag me down to his level. I will neither compromise my values nor my dignity to get “even” with him, which is a status beneath my standards.

That could have happened. Fortunately, I was ambushed, lulled by my sense that, of course, I was safe from such Neanderthal comments. Especially in church. While I was providing the hospitality that he was enjoying.

I do wonder what prompted this attack. I don’t think I’ve shared more than a few pleasant words with him in passing. The preacher at the service was a woman, and she had done a fabulous job, preaching on Luke’s gospel story of the Good Samaritan. That said, a male priest had presided at Eucharist. Seems balanced to me.

Maybe my balance was his imbalance.

Plaque at the entrance to the Portico at St. Peter’s.

I’m tending toward simply ignoring him for now and giving him the illusion of power. He certainly disturbed my balance, but he only has as much power over me as I allow him. He doesn’t know that, of course - his arrogance and inherent sense of gender superiority are simply stunning, which gives me a distinct advantage.

Poor dear has no idea of his transparency. Or…… could it be that he’s not as transparent as I think he is? Maybe there are motivations that he keeps well hidden, even from himself? Or, could it be that I’m still too stunned to see? Blinded, perhaps, by my own lingering outrage and, yes, anger?

Would he be more comfortable in a more traditional - or, at least, less progressive - church? Was he trying to sabotage their membership at the church? Is he testing the limits of our “inclusion” and “welcome to absolutely everybody”? Is he challenging our claim to be a “sanctuary in the heart of Lewes”?

I wonder what part of his story has influenced his perception of women. I wonder what burdens he is bearing, what anger clouds his vision, what experiences influence his thinking, and inform his image of God.

Here’s what I’m currently thinking: I think I’ll run an ambush on him. But this time, it will set a different standard - an ambush of kindness.

Next time I see him, I will smile, muster up as much grace and style as I have, and say, “You know, my rule is to always lead with kindness, but you presented a real temptation to break my own rule. But, I won’t. If you ever need to talk, I’m here.”

And then, smile. And walk away.

The risk is that it might increase the intensity of his disdain for me, or that he may experience our exchange as a comeuppance. He wouldn’t be exactly wrong. My intent, however, is to flip the motivation. I want to let him know that he came close to being successful, but to paraphrase Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr, prejudice can not cast out prejudice; only kindness can do that.

It takes a while. It might never happen. “Can” not “will.” The problem is that the reverse can happen. Prejudice can cast out kindness. If we let it.

I won’t let that happen.

If I thought there was a whisper of a prayer of a chance to reverse it, I would try another approach. He’s had decades to build up the case in his mind about the “appropriate” role of women, especially in the church. He even has an ecclesiastical-endorsed theology and corporate structure to support him.

I will not let his prejudice rob me of my kindness.

Plaque on the floor of St. Peter’s Church, at the crossing, approaching the altar

What I hope to do is to let him know that I am not in violation of my baptismal vows. I “respect the dignity of every human being,” and “seek and serve Christ in all people,” even when they are being vile. Not that it’s easy. Not that we have to tolerate the behavior, but that we can not stop seeking the Christ in the midst of bad behavior.

I am also not in violation of my priestly vows, to “undertake to be a faithful pastor to all whom you are called to serve………”.

Ultimately, that is what is most important to me, not what someone thinks of me. That I am faithful to the teachings of Jesus, and to the vows I have taken, no matter his opinion of the validity of my priesthood.

Recently, the church installed a statue of St. Peter in the newly constructed portico. The dedication on the plaque bears these words:

The portico statue of St. Peter is dedicated to the oppressed and the marginalized, the poor and poor in spirit, seekers, mystics and misfits, and all those from whom the failings of the church, have caused immeasurable pain. Saint Peter freely offers the keys of the Holy Realm to all. May all persons find sanctuary in this place. "

That includes him.

And me.

Whether he likes it or not.

Or me.

But, you know, it’s not going to be easy. So, of your mercy and kindness, if you might shoot an arrow prayer or two my way over the next few weeks, I would be most grateful.

Saints, sinners, and scoundrels. All means all. God causes the rain to fall on the just and the unjust. And, as we’ve seen with the people Jesus calls, there’s no accounting for taste. As far as the Holy Spirit, well, you just never know what She might be up to.

In the words of Blessed Rachel Held Evans, "Imagine if every church became a place where everyone is safe, but no one is comfortable. Imagine if every church became a place where we told one another the truth. We might just create sanctuary.”

Somebody give that woman an ‘Amen’.