Cover your head

1 Corinthians 11. 1-16

The thing is, we read into scripture what we want to see, or what we fear seeing, or what we think we're going to see. And sometimes we just don't know enough about the background to fully understand what we're actually reading. 

This passage is a case in point. Some things are clear. Women were taking up roles in churches which fit into what we would now see as leadership roles. They were acting as prophets and leading prayer - they were worship leaders. Paul takes that for granted. He's clearly used to the idea of women leading in church services, and he doesn't in this passage say anything that would suggest that a woman can not be a leader in church.

But there is a problem involving the women leaders in Corinth. They've caused offence, and he's presumably received comments about them, or he wouldn't have bothered mentioning it in his letter, And the problem is not around what they are doing, but about what they are wearing - or rather, not wearing.

It was usual in that particular culture for women to cover their heads when out in public. It was a societal norm, and not a controversial one. Every culture has different expectations of dress for men and for women. In the culture in which I live women have a great deal of freedom, but there are some restrictions which would be very shocking to break. Keeping our breasts covered, for example. On a hot day, a man might appear in the street without a top, but it would not be acceptable for a woman to do the same. And I am very emphatically not suggesting that we should. Definitely not. But if I lived in certain tribal communities in another part of the world, I might wonder what all the fuss was about.

When we read Paul's instruction to women to conform to a dress code that is culturally important, we need to see it as that, and not as a greater statement about women. It was shocking go go out without a headdress. Yes, women might take them off indoors with the family. And yes, church is family, so perhaps one line of reasoning might have been that it was OK to take off the headdress because we are all one family here. But at church there were newcomers, visitors, new converts, people who didn't know everyone well. Applying the rules of a family household was too forward. Instead the women who took off their headdresses risked looking as though they were prostitutes - the only group of women who did go out with loose hair and without a headdress of some sort. Or they risked looking as though they were trying to be men. 

There was no need for a woman lading in church to try and look like a man. Shea did not get her authority in church from somehow being an honorary man. She is a creation of God made to complement man, and has authority in her own right. For her, authority in church was better exercised with the headdress on, looking like a woman, being all that God made her to be. Not risking being seen as taking authority by somehow pretending to be male. It wasn't necessary and it wasn't godly. 

A woman in leadership in 21st century Britain may not need a headscarf, or long hair. The cultural norms that Paul was living in do not apply to us. So it doesn't help to look at this passage as being about whether or not a woman should cover her head in church or wear long hair. Rather, we need to ensure that we behave as leaders in ways that do not shock or cause scandal (as some of those Corinthian prophets were doing). We need to dress appropriately and modestly according to the rules of the churches that we serve and the culture we currently inhabit. That way we will not become a distraction, or get away of what is really important, which is the message that God wants his people to hear through us. And funnily enough, exactly the same rule applies to our male colleagues. 

This is my body

1 Corinthians 11.17-end

It was a great day for a church picnic. Everyone was bringing their own food, but the PCC had implied that a certain amount of sharing would be encouraged, and the vicar had given Jo and Sam the impression that if they came straight to the picnic after their shift at the warehouse, it wouldn’t matter that they didn’t have time to sort out their own food. ‘Don’t worry’, she said, ‘everyone always brings too much. You just come.’ The picnic ran between 12 and 2, so it seemed fine to arrive as soon as they could after their shift – running for the bus meant they got to the site soon after 12.30. Not too late.

Photo by Christine Siracusa on Unsplash

The vicar seemed distracted when they arrived, getting ready for the communion service. The church members were sitting in groups around the site. Some of the members who came from the big houses at the edge of the area had occupied the picnic tables. They’d brought cloths and had plates and glasses and some very fancy looking dishes of food – a lot posher than any picnic Sam and Jo had ever seen. Other members were sitting around blankets with more ordinary looking food. It was obvious that they’d been eating and drinking for a while and some seemed to have finished already.  

Sam and Jo spotted the picnic organiser with his family at one of the tables and went over to them. ‘You made it then,’ he said to them. ‘We understand from the vicar that you couldn’t bring your own food. Shame. Never mind. There are some cheese sandwiches here.’ And from a bag under the table he pulled out a packet of sandwiches and a bottle of water. As he passed it to Jo, he seemed unembarrassed at his failure to offer any of the wine or lemonade on the table, or of the chicken Caesar salad, quail’s eggs or the delicate individual fruit pavlovas that looked so delicious. Not that there was much of it left.

Sam looked around for somewhere to sit, and found a space some distance from the tables. Soon the vicar was calling them together for communion – the sandwiches would have to wait. She broke the bread, using St Paul’s words about there being one bread and one body, but as Sam and Jo looked around the gathering, it didn’t feel like that to them. The people at the tables had only spoken to them when handing them the sandwiches that were so inferior to their own lunch. It seemed they had nothing in common. ‘But we should’, whispered Jo. ‘Didn’t Jesus die for us too? He didn’t think we were less important than anyone else. So why don’t people talk to us? Why are we over here and not siting at one of those tables? Why aren’t we worth a share in the nice food? Is it just because we can’t afford to put a lot in the collection, or because we’re late – it isn’t our fault that they always start these events while we’re still on shift. If this is the body of Christ, I don’t feel like I’m a part of it’.

What happens next? Do Jo and Sam go and find another church, one where they don’t feel looked down on for being warehouse operatives? Does the vicar spot what is happening and speak out to the wealthy members of the church? Perhaps those wealthy members haven’t realised just how unfair they are being. Perhaps they think preparing a few cheese sandwiches was a great kindness and that they did well – will she put them right? Will she tell them that they are amputating part of the body by behaving so thoughtlessly? Or will she keep quiet, because she’s afraid that these wealthy people have the power to make her life miserable, or even to take her job from her?

I’m not describing a real scenario. Jo and Sam are fictional. But I’ve seen close enough variants a few times in the course of my life to know that what St Paul described in 1 Corinthians 11 is still a threat to the body of Christ now. In those early days of the church, the sharing of bread and wine was becoming symbolic but hadn’t yet been separated from the sharing of a meal. Influenced by the shape of a Passover meal, bread was broken and blessed at the start of a shared meal, and the cup of blessing shared at the end of it. People reminded themselves of all that Jesus had asked them to remember, as part of the sharing in a full meal. But in Corinth the local customs for eating together were leading to divisions within the church. Wealthy hosts would eat in their dining rooms, starting as soon as they were ready. Poorer church members would arrive to find the meal in progress and their food – of a much lower quality – served in the hall. That was not how Paul, Peter and Apollos had taught the Corinthian Christians to behave, and it definitely did not reflect the teaching of Jesus.

As Paul reminded the Corinthians of the story of the Last Supper – and this is the earliest account of it that we have – he was doing it to show them how their behaviour was not a remembrance of Jesus, but rather it was letting him down. Jesus calls his people to be one body, united in love for God and for each other. The bread is the symbol of that body. Jesus, the bread of life, identified his body with bread and asked all who follow to see bread as his body. The bread of life, the body of Christ, both are one. And so, Paul says, when we share that bread, we are not just connecting with Jesus, in receiving something that becomes for us his body. We are connecting with the whole church – because we are the body of Christ. The bread is a symbol and sign of our identity as the church – we are the body of Christ, and so we are the bread of life for the world. Eating that bread is not only a personal spiritual experience. It is a shared experience – the word corporate really comes into its own. Eating the bread binds us as Jesus’ body here on earth, his presence in the world.

And if we believe that, then our behaviour towards each other must be completely respectful, loving and thoughtful. It isn’t acceptable to look down on other Christians. It isn’t acceptable to hand one a cheese sandwich while you eat lobster. Better for everyone to have cheese sandwiches. And to eat them together – not eating first but waiting. In my picnic scenario, the event should have been times to start when Jo and Sam were able to get there. And a proper planned shared meal would have been better too. With tables reserved for those unable to sit on the ground because of bad hips, or dealing with a baby, or old age, even if that meant some people used to a more refined way of living find themselves sitting on the grass. Those who really can’t wait to eat, Paul said – eat at home, because you are making it into a private meal, not a shared meal for Jesus’ followers. There should be no exclusivity, no looking down on people. We are one body and we need to behave as though that matters.

Because it does matter. It matters enough that it was one of the last things that Jesus prayed for, and St Paul and other first generation apostles spoke of it constantly. We are one body. And so let us live thoughtfully, respectfully, lovingly, always putting our fellow Christians needs ahead of our own. Jo and Sam and fictional, but the truth is, there are plenty of people out there who have been made to feel the way that they were. Let’s not be that church. Let’s be the church that Jo and Sam looked for – the one that welcomes, and includes and keeps things equal.

Lectio Divina readings to start with

Readings for Lectio Divina

Any passage of scripture or meditative writing can be used for this kind of prayerful reading. You could learn much from writers such as Julian of Norwich, Brother Laurence, Theresa of Avila or the poems of Malcolm Guite 'An ordinary saint' is well worth starting with. You can find his sonnets on his own blog: https://malcolmguite.wordpress.com/category/poems/

 Here, I suggest some Bible passages  that may make a good programme to begin with, as you start to explore lectio divina as a way of prayer.

Psalms	Prophets
8 23 42 103 115 131 139	Isaiah 35 Isaiah 40. 18-31 Isaiah 61. 1-11 Micah 6. 1-11
Parables	Epistles
Matt 13. 1-23 Matt 25. 14-30 Luke 15. 11-32 Luke 16. 19-31 Luke 20. 9-19 John 10. 1-18	Romans 8. 28-39 1 Cor 12.31b–13.13 1 Cor 15.12-28 2 Cor 4.1-18 Ephesians 4.2-9 Colossians 3.1-17 Philemon 1 Peter 1.13-25 1 Peter 2.4-12 1 John 4.7-21

Gospel
Matt 5. 1-12 Matt 15. 21-28 Matt 27. 32-55 Mark 9. 2-13 Mark 10. 17-31 Mark 14. 12-25 Luke 1. 46-55 Luke 11. 1-13 Luke 19. 1-10 Luke 23. 26-49 Luke 24. 13-35 John 1. 1-18 John 4. 4-42 John 6. 30-58 John 13. 1-17 John 14. 1-14 John 15. 1-17 John 17. 20-26 John 19. 16-37 John 20. 19-29 John 21. 15-25

Lectio divina in a group

Lectio Divina: in a group

Although Ignatius developed Lectio Divina as a form of prayer to be done on your own, as part of his Spiritual Exercises, an adapted group version of the prayerful reading can be very helpful. When doing Lectio Divina in a group, it helps to have someone willing to lead or moderate the group, although that isn’t essential in a well-formed group. Listening is key, and not interrupting others an important rule.

The reading and reflecting method follows these stages:

1)    Read the passage through once.

2)    Keep silent for a short time.

3)    a different reader reads the passage a second time.

4)    Each person says aloud a word or phrase that stands out for them or spoke to them. At this stage you do not say why it struck you, or offer any explanation: just say what the phrase is. It is absolutely fine for more than one person to name the same phrase – it is about what struck you individually, not trying to gather lots of ideas. If everyone is struck by the same phrase, there’s a message from God in that. If everyone is struck by a different phrase, God is active in the differences too, as well as speaking to the heart of each person.

5)    A different reader reads the passage a third time.

6)    Share together what the word or phrase might mean, what questions or thoughts it raises for you. Listen carefully to each other and do not interrupt each other. As you talk, the threads of the conversation may well connect or inform each other’s reflection.

Lectio Divina on your own

Lectio Divina: on your own

This is one way of praying which Ignatius recommends in the Spiritual Exercises, and which has great value beyond the Exercises and into regular prayer. Lectio Divina is usually used with the scriptures, although it can also be value in reading other spiritual books. For example, I once had a marvellous time on retreat using lectio divina as part of my reading of Ste. Thérèse’s Story of a Soul.

Literally, divine or holy reading, is a method of reading very slowly. Start by choosing a passage to read. Why not try Psalm 139? First, read the whole passage through. Take a moment to be silent, asking the Holy Spirit to speak to you, and then read the passage again, this time giving full attention to yourself and your responses as well as to the passage you are reading.

Read slowly, paying attention to every word. If a word or a phrase attracts you, stop. Stay with that phrase, letting it roll over in your mind. If you find that it begins a thread of thought or prayer, stay with it. Perhaps there is something that you need to say to God as a result of this line of thought – or perhaps there is something that God wants to bring to your attention. I recommend using a notebook, diary or prayer journal to write down your thoughts as you do lectio divina, but it is not essential. When you have exhausted the line of thought, go back to the passage and read on, again, stopping if a word or phrase stands out.

You may find that you read most of a passage before something really speaks to you; or that you read a long section and find that the overall impression of that section is what you are caught up by; or you might pray for two hours and not get beyond the first verse. It does not matter, in this exercise, how far you get or how much of the passage you read. On this occasion you are not reading in order to increase Bible knowledge – you can do that another time. This is about having a conversation with God which is sparked off by, and rooted in, his word – or sometimes in the words he has given to other servants.

Lectio divina takes time. Don’t try it if you are in a hurry to go somewhere – you should allow yourself at least an hour. I usually find it helpful to have time afterwards to let the thoughts and prayers settle, perhaps by sitting quietly in a chapel or church, or by going for a walk.

Ideally, do this kind of prayer in a place and/or at a time when you know you will not be disturbed. If you have to stop to answer the phone or the front door you will lose the flow of prayer and the exercise will be devalued.

The scarlet thread

The Scarlet Thread

Only Matthew found it necessary to include a genealogy at the beginning of his gospel. The Old Testament includes many genealogies – like the one at the end of the book of Ruth – usually included to demonstrate the way a line of people leads to a triumphant conclusion, or to show the wonderful background that the last named person could look back on. The studious Jewish readers of Matthew’s gospel will have looked carefully at the way that Matthew established a connection from Abraham (the Father of the faith) to Jesus. Matthew took care to show that Joseph welcomed Mary as his wife and that it was Joseph who gave a name to her child. In doing so, Joseph was acknowledging Jesus as his own, and whether or not he was the biological father of the child, Jesus inherited all that this long and impressive lineage promised.

In the line of male names Matthew names five women. Many of the mothers who stood behind the men in the genealogy are unknown to us and were unknown to Matthew. Some of the women do appear in scripture, but Matthew does not consider them significant enough to mention. So what is so special about these five women that Matthew draws our attention to them?

Tamar’s elder twin is marked by a scarlet thread; her younger twin – who is nevertheless the first born (it must have been a horrendous birth experience for her) is the one who becomes part of the pathway to Jesus. He and his brother are symbols of a promise that has finally been honoured because she made it so.

Rahab’s scarlet thread also reminds a group of men of a promise – this time not of marriage and the continuing of a family name, but of the protection of life in days of invasion.

Her thread saves not only Rahab but also her family, and they begin a new life as followers of the Living God and members of his family.

Ruth’s husband Boaz could be considered the product of the promise of salvation offered to Rahab. Ruth herself demonstrates keeping a promise in a committed way that sets an example for God’s people. Ruth lives out her loyalty to Naomi and Naomi’s God, never going back on her promise of commitment to her loved friend.

If the scarlet thread is about promise and salvation, it seems strained almost to breaking point when Ruth’s great-grandson David enters the story. Bathsheba – the wife of Uriah in Matthew’s list – is made to break her marriage promises by David. David makes another promise to Bathsheba – that her second son by him, Solomon, will inherit the throne of Israel (1 Kings 1: 17). When it seems that David will go back on this promise, Bathsheba is the one who ensured that he kept it. Bathsheba is in a way a symbol of the pain that comes from breaking promises, and yet she keeps her own integrity.

Mary carries the promise of God to all people. Within her the scarlet thread of the promise of salvation becomes flesh and blood.

Mary’s life is no easier than any of the other women in Matthew’s list. It is just as full of scandal (or potential scandal); relationship difficulties and painful loss. The scarlet thread which offers hope comes with added sorrow and trouble for every one of the five women. They emerge as women who are powerful examples of faith and resilience against the odds.

Read    Matthew 1: 1-17; Luke 15: 1-2

_______________________________________________

Consider

In Luke 15 Jesus welcomes sinners, and the Pharisees didn’t like it. To their minds, a person had to be perfectly clean and pure before God would accept them, since God is perfectly clean and pure. Sinners don’t get to come before the God of the Pharisees. But that was not how Jesus saw things. Jesus showed us that God loves us now, as we are. It is responding to God’s love that enables us to change and become better people – we don’t have to be the better people first before we are loved. Jesus didn’t just tell us this, he showed it by his own behaviour in welcoming people while they were still unclean and impure.

Three of the women we have studied were involved in sexual sin; one in deliberate prostitution, one in deception and one was an adulteress (even though she may not have chosen to become one). God loves them just as much as the other two. All five women are beloved of God, and it is perhaps interesting that it is the woman who one might be most likely to condemn as a sinner for her lifestyle (Rahab) who is upheld in the New Testament as an example of faith.

When Mary prayed with the women who followed Jesus, they included women who were considered to be ‘sinners’ – perhaps very much like Rahab had been. Their lives may well have included the chaos, sorrow, exploitation, vulnerability or sin that we find in the lives of Tamar, Rahab, Ruth and Bathsheba. Jesus welcomed ordinary people and loved them, just as they were.

More than that, he offered these ordinary, unclean, impure women and men the chance to become adopted sons and daughters of God. They would be welcome in the presence of the clean and pure Living God, because God loves them and includes them in His family.

The offer and the welcome has not changed. Ordinary ‘sinners’ today are welcomed by Jesus and by His family. Or they should be. The challenge in many churches today is to behave like Jesus and not like the Pharisees. It is all too easy to see people and decide that we don’t want to keep company with them because of their past behaviour. We find we’re uncomfortable around someone with a prison record, or the needle marks in the arms that testify to a drug habit, or the scars that suggest violent encounters in the past. We worry about what kind of influence they will be on our children. And we fail to make them welcome.

By including these women Matthew reinforces Jesus’ message of welcome and salvation for all people. He reminds us that the saviour of all is descended from prostitutes, adulterers, and foreigners; from killers and spies; from kings and handymen. The scarlet thread ties us to them and to Jesus, who brings salvation to all.

Question

1)   What made each of our five women unique?

2)   What common attributes did you find between the women?

3)   Was there one woman you found particularly interesting or appealing? Or whose story spoke to you in a helpful way? What was it about her story that you found interesting or helpful?

4)   Why do you think Matthew chose to leave some women out? Would you have included Sarah, Rebecca and Leah in the list? What are your reasons?

5)   Why do you think these women are important to the background story of Jesus?

The Scarlet Thread

All the women that Matthew points us to are there because of their sons, a thread of men ending with the most important man who was ever born. And yet Matthew has not included them solely because of their sons. If that had been his only motivation, then other mothers whose names are known would appear – Sarah, Rebecca, Leah. No, in drawing our attention to these five women, Matthew is pointing to more than just the fruit of their wombs. He is looking at the women themselves. There are qualities in these women, things to learn from their actions or their responses to what happens to them, which tell us something about the quality of the Messiah. The threads that you have been drawing together during the previous five studies will help as you consider how the thread connects them to Jesus.

What qualities did they possess that Jesus also valued? What precedents did they set that were reflected in the life of Jesus? As he moved towards the hard final days of his passion, how did the scarlet thread that connected them show up in his words and actions?