Marriage and Love

(See my daughter, Pastor Julia Seymour's, blogpost, "Faith, Grace and Hope," http://lutheranjulia.blogspot.com/, July 20, 2011.)

Reverend Ron Hamman initiated a strong reaction with his column in the Mat-Su Valley (Alaska) Frontiersman, entitled, "Faith, what the Bible says about a modern controversy." His initial comments related to an Alaska case regarding a woman's accusations about marital rape, and then digressed into a commentary on divine judgment of America.

My daughter eloquently exegeted on the Scriptures cited by Rev. Hamman, so there is no need for me to repeat what she has said. I refer my readers to her blog (see link above).

My interest in commenting on the nature of sex within marriage is to take a deeper look at what that relationship can be in the best of circumstances. Christian teaching often fails to dig more deeply into its Hebraic roots, and so I like to go back to the Hebrew Scripture and study how something, in this case marital sex, is rendered linguistically.

The first time that marital sexual relations is mentioned in Torah is Genesis 4:1, and the verb used is the same verb that means "to know." It is typically rendered, "Adam knew his wife." Hence, there is the suggestion that sex is an intimate act, the result of a closeness where one so much understands and comprehends the other that the phrase, "the two become one," is realized in the fullest, almost metaphysical, sense of that phrase.

Isaac consummates his relationship with Rebekah by taking her into his mother's tent (Gen. 24:67), and he was comforted - the suggestion here that marital relations are tender and mutually enjoyable.

A subsequent word used in the contexts of Jacob with his wives Leah and Rachel; Jacob's son, Judah, and his wife; and Boaz with Ruth is translated as 'cohabit,' (Hebrew, boh). The word is a variation of the same verb meaning "enter in" or "come into," a more graphic depiction, yet also suggesting a mutual sharing.

What is perhaps most interesting in looking at these stories is that the idea of marital love is introduced very early in Genesis, with the stories of Isaac and Rebekah, and Jacob's love for Rachel. In fact, it is notable to realize that the writers of Genesis make a point of addressing the fact that Leah was "unloved," and that as a result, Jacob often abstained from performing his "marital duty."

Perhaps no other Hebrew Scripture text better depicts what marital relations is all about than the Song of Songs, a text that has so embarrassed various church leaders throughout the centuries with its graphic depictions of mutually enjoyed physical love that they have been compelled to declare it a description of the Deity's love for Israel, rather than own up to the reality that the Scriptures' writers and compilers believed that the inclusion of text that conveys the depth of emotional and physical attraction mutually shared by a man and a woman was an important part of building a community of faith.

I would say that it is a safe conclusion that G-d's intention for marital love is one of mutuality and respect, and that this thread of shared intentionality is found in the earliest of biblical texts. As it is not an easy thing to call law enforcement and accuse one's husband of rape, I would suspect that even in the absence of witnesses, there has been a profound violation of the mutual respect and compassion that should be the foundation of marital life.

Reverend Hamman does quote the Pauline injunction that husbands and wives should share their bodies, but there is a key verse lacking in his argument: a husband has an obligation to reverence and care for his wife as he would himself. Indeed, the husband is to love his wife as he would himself. Here, too, we can find historical texts to reinforce the responsibility that a husband has toward the care of his wife and acting with concern for her well-being - starting in the marital bed.

Once again, Hebrew Scripture offers additional food for thought. The Torah portion for July 23, Matot (Numbers 30:2 - 32:42), talks about vows. In biblical times, a man's word was inviolate. If he made a vow, he was required to keep it. In ancient Hebraic wedding ceremonies, the man made all the promises. He promised to care for, protect, and nurture the woman he took to wife. If Rev. Hamman would like to approach the Scripture literally, then this text is an excellent place to start. A Christian man who fully honored his vows to "love, honor, and cherish" would never be in a position to be accused of rape or domestic violence.

In fact, Rev. Hamman could easily have made a very different point in his column on faith - and that is the requirement that a man has to love his wife as he loves himself. This is a command that is threaded throughout the whole of the Hebrew Scripture and the New Testament writings, and every translation renders that command the same way.

A Hidden Gem in the Ozarks

Marshfield, Missouri, is a little town, about 30 miles northeast of Springfield, tucked into the Ozark plateau. Its gently rolling hills and rural nature remind me of the lower Piedmont region of North Carolina, the state I call home. But just as the Missouri hills offer a variety of geological riches, including quartz and the agriculturally important limestone, Marshfield likewise offers gifts to those who love history and enjoy the company of like-minded aficionados.

I discovered this semi-hidden treasure last week, when I responded to an invitation to accept the Ella Dickey Literacy Award at the Marshfield Cherry Blossom Festival. I will confess an initial skepticism when I received an e-mail from one Nicholas Inman, telling me that I had been chosen for such an honor. My biography of the nation's youngest first lady, Frances Folsom Cleveland, titled "Frank" (for the name she used in childhood and with family), has enjoyed, shall we say, modest sales - although my publisher has kindly characterized the numbers as "not too shabby." But even though I wasn't wholly convinced by the information I had uncovered via some Internet sleuthing, I had a sixth sense that this festival was legitimate and that it was a trip that I should make.

The easiest way to try to describe the Cherry Blossom Festival to a neophyte is to say that it brings together the descendants of the nation's presidential families, but the reality of the event actually defies description. The festival is one part history, one part book festival, one part religious revival, one part racial healing, and one part show business. It is a homo sapien version of a banana split, a concoction of seemingly unrelated flavors that, when enjoyed together, provides an overwhelmingly pleasant taste sensation greater than eating each individual ingredient alone.

Several of the events center around the uniqueness of having so many presidential descendants together in one room, ranging from a descendant of Washington's family to a cousin of Bill Clinton's. The addition of a few authors, history devotees, impassioned advocates for racial healing, actors from yesteryear's family-oriented television programming, war heroes and well-known politicians, topped with a significant dollop of committed local residents demonstrates that, at her best, American can still be a successful melting pot society.

I had the singular pleasure of sitting next to the eldest grandson of Eleanor and Franklin Roosevelt during dinner one evening and engaging in a stimulating conversation that ranged from the current economic conditions to the occasional enjoyment of a cigarette. Clinton's cousin had recently met people that I have known for several years through my work. Harry Truman's nephew responded enthusiastically when I mentioned why my mother had considered Truman to be a great and courageous president. I shared knowledge of the Confederacy with a descendant of Jefferson Davis, who is also related to the Rutherford B. Hayes family. Speaking of Jefferson, descendants of the Tom & Martha and Tom & Sally sides were both present, and they bear an uncanny resemblance to one another, as well as to their distant ancestor, Thomas Jefferson. And I was finally able to meet, in person, the Cleveland grandson with whom I have exchanged several delightful and fun-to-read e-mails.

Remarkable is too bland a word to describe the Cherry Blossom Committee that organizes and executes this event. People open their homes to the invited attendees, transport them to and from the airport, take guests who speak to nearby colleges and schools to their venues, and make sure that it all happens seamlessly. Everything is done with warmth, genuine hospitality, and smiles. The food, too, is excellent. (I would list the first names of everyone who helped to make our stay so fabulous, but I am afraid I will forget a name!)

This is an annual event that takes place at the end of April. I've already marked my calendar, and God willing, I will be back next year.

The Politics of Hunger

Years ago, an agriculturist told me that all hunger was political. "There is enough food to feed the entire world," he asserted, knowledgeably. "If people are going hungry, it's because their leaders are using food as a political weapon."

The statement was made in the context of hearing yet another report about the 'starving children in Africa.'

Now, I have to wonder what my friend would say when he reads about hunger right here in America. We are a nation that has a cable network dedicated solely to the preparation and consumption of food. Even as general readership declines, the publication and purchase of cookbooks abound. True, some of this may be nothing more than the beauty of a well-framed food picture in a book, artfully placed on a coffee table, but it also says something about our almost insane obsession with eating.

Yet even as we see the affluent, or at least those who can marginally afford it, engage in various forms of foodaholism, we also know that people are dumpster diving because of how much edible food is discarded. Lines at soup kitchens have lengthened, and appeals to restock food pantries have come with more frequency as shelves empty more quickly than at any other time in recent history.

If hunger in a society is a gauge of that nation's leadership, what does hunger in America say about us?

First, it says we have our priorities greatly skewed. Visitors to food pantries will tell you that given the choice of rent, utilities, medicine, and food, they will cut the food to assure that they aren't homeless, freeze, or get even sicker. Housing that is safe isn't always affordable, but given the choice, I guess I, too, would go with hunger pangs over the fear of gun violence in my neighborhood. We have no competitiveness in the provision of utilities, and anyone who has completed Economics 101 can tell you that monopoly pricing is the highest type of per unit pricing for a good or service. I'll address medical care below.

Second, we believe that people who are facing financial hardship have brought their problems on themselves. The Great Recession, an interesting euphemism for what is really and truly a serious economic depression, should tell us otherwise. Many of those who are out of work followed all the rules - got up every morning, went to work, invested in the recommended 401Ks, and believed that home ownership was the way to go toward long-term security. We bailed out the banks, and bailed out on individuals. So, how do we punish them for their failure to be 'productive' in society's eyes? We make it difficult for them to eat.

Third, let me return to health care. We are the only industrialized nation that does not ensure proper, preventive care for every single citizen. We reward people with chronic diseases by covering the costs of their treatment more than we reward young mothers for taking their infants to the medical provider for routine check-ups and vaccinations. We punish people who contract diseases that have nothing to do with lifestyle (certain types of cancers being a case in point), and then bend over backwards to provide treatments for conditions that are potentially preventable. (Viagra, anyone?) Obamacare, for all of the excoriations from the right, still does not move us in the direction we need to go with regard to providing complete, affordable, preventive care. I'm not even sure it's a stable baby step. In the meantime, would those who are receiving care under Medicare or Tricare or Medicaid or are covered under the care offered to Members of Congress please stand up?

Congress is currently targeting for cuts programs that provide food stamps, overseas food aid, subsidized meals for preschoolers and their mothers, and although the subject of this blog is food, I will add that cuts are targeted for heating assistance as well.

If, as my friend pointed out years ago, leaders either provide or withhold food as a show of political power, what do the current proposals in Congress say about our leaders?

Life and Death on the Farm - Part II

June came to live with us ten years ago. David, the dairy farmer who gave her to us, believed she had an umbilical hernia that would keep her from being able to calve easily and nurse her calf. After a few months on our so-called farm at that time, a little patch of three acres, half of which was planted in three mobile homes, June's 'umbilical hernia' turned out to be nothing more than her own umbilical cord which had not yet fully healed. We named her 'June' in honor of her birth month, and kept her for her potential as a brood and nurse cow.

June had roots on our small landholding. She was the heifer of a Hostein dairy cow and "Shorty," a gorgeous red, milking Shorthorn bull that had been born on our farm, and who had been sold to David about two years before we acquired June. She was part of the last group of calves Shorty sired before he was turned into steak and hamburger. June had red and white patterning that reflected her mixed parentage.

From the time she first calved, June proved to be an outstanding cow. My husband taught our sons how to milk her, and I discovered the joys of honest-to-goodness cream. In fact, I became so spoiled, I refused to drink half-and-half, and I now drink my coffee black because I do not have real cream to put in it. My husband used June as a nurse cow to provide milk to bull calves he would buy from David. In the ten years we had her, she nurse a total of 55 calves - six of her own, and 49 others.

June's last calf, Little Bit, was born this past June. He exhibits his mother's markings, and the darker red of his red limousin bull sire.

There are times when I seem to have a sixth sense about things on this farm (although not always, as I will describe shortly). I noticed that June seemed to be resting at the edge of a wooded section of our pasture, but all of the other cattle were grazing. Cattle have specific times of the day when they rest and when they graze, and while one or two in a herd may occasionally graze or rest when all of the other animals are doing the opposite, there is a legitimate reason for the term 'herd mentality': the animals do things as a group. I kept an eye on June, figuring that perhaps her resting was just one of those occasional times when not everyone is doing the same thing at the same time, but when it was clear that she had not moved for nearly an hour, I pointed out to my husband that we needed to go and check on her.

What we found concerned us. It was clear from the manure piles that June had been in the same spot for even longer than the hour that I had been observing her. My husband tried to get her to stand, even putting some feed in a trough to encourage her to move (up to that point, June had always been the first one at the trough, earning her the nickname, "feed hog"). My husband and I frantically discussed all of the options: virus? hard metal disease? bovine flatulence?

We weren't prepared for the final answer: old age. June was, by bovine standards, an old cow, and it was time for her to go to the Great Pasture. This was not an easy thing to do because she was, maybe as much as our 14-year old dog (we're all getting old around here!), a family pet. I conveniently managed not to be home when my husband took care of things, but I still get upset, even as I write this post, about the fact that she is gone.

And when the sixth sense isn't working...

A week ago, I went outside and found a strange dog hanging around our yard. The dog, a female beagle, is marked almost exactly like our male beagle, so much so that I thought he had escaped his dog pen. But this dog was obviously female, and either nursing or about to give birth to pups. For some reason (that sixth sense again), I went over to our hen pen, and what I saw sickened me: feathers of one hen who was nowhere to be found, an eviscerated second hen, and one last hen, alive, but looking traumatized. This beagle showed no interest in the birds, so I suspect she was not the culprit, and I looked around for signs of entry into the pen, but saw none.

I left to go to the appointment I needed to keep, and when I returned an hour later, all of our hens were gone. We could hear yipping in the woods behind our house, sounds of a pack of wild dogs or coyotes. We heard those sounds for several days, until they finally quit, about two days ago. After living here for over two years, raising chicks for home chicken consumption and keeping hens for eggs, this is the first time we have had something or some things come and eat our birds. It's not unusual, and most keepers of backyard poultry have one story or another to share about similar events, but when it's your turn, you are painfully reminded of how farm living is often just one small step away from the more treacherous and primitive lifestyles of the hunter-gatherers of just a few generations back.

If I Paid for it, then it's not an Entitlement

President Obama's deficit reduction commission, headed by an independently wealthy businessman (Erskine Bowles) and a former senator with a guaranteed pension (Alan Simpson), has made public its recommendations for reducing the federal deficit. One web-site characterizes the recommendations as addressing issues that represent the "third rail" of American politics. (See: Talking Points Memo.)

There is no more highly charged third rail than Social Security.

A few years ago, when I was casting about for another book topic, I began to consider writing about Social Security. It seemed like something that might be worth the time and effort. Consider these few facts:

Fact One: Social Security was signed into law at the end of 1935, to take effect in 1937. The nation was in the throes of the Great Depression, and unemployment continued to be high, but at about the time that Social Security taxation became the law of the land, unemployment began to decline and employment to increase. After the new tax law took effect (because Social Security is, first and foremost, a tax), unemployment increased again. Why? Because it now cost employers more to have employees, since they were required to contribute a percentage of their employees' wages as the employer contribution of Social Security.

Fact Two: When the actuarial tables were run to determine what the appropriate contribution percentage should be, the calculations showed that the program would become bankrupt beyond 1965. FDR questioned the validity of the model used to compute the figures, and when he determined that the math was valid and correct, ordered that the actuarial tables provided to Congress only go through 1962.

Fact Three: The Supreme Court nearly overturned the Social Security Act as an unconstitutional form of taxation, prompting FDR to attempt to "pack the court" with more justices (whom he appointed, of course), but in May, 1937, the Court determined that Social Security did not constitute an unconstitutional tax.

(See: Social Security Online History)

Which lays the foundation for where we are today, as we begin the year 2011, and talk swirls in political circles about changing the retirement age and adjusting benefit amounts.

I have been paying Social Security since I was 16 years old. I can still remember the thrill of my first paycheck - $20, for 10 hours of work at a university library. It had already been determined that I would not owe income tax, so imagine my surprise, after I earned that first $400, to find that Social Security would now be taken from those wages!

That was 40 years ago, and as I get closer to the age of 65, Social Security is as much a third rail issue for me as it has been for the population, generally. When I was 40, I would have loved if the United States Government had told me to end my contributions to Social Security and put the same amount in an investment account of my choosing. Even with the recent reversals in the stock and bond markets, I at least would have had direct control over my money. It would have been especially helpful to have had that ruling 15+ years ago, because I was self-employed at the time - and 15.2% of my net income was sacrificed on the tax altar. - It's money not freely given, and under the terms of the government's social contract with me, I should get it back when I reach the current eligible age to draw it and at the benefit level that has been in place for most of my working life (and we won't even go into the craziness of the fact that a tax will be taxed again as "income").

Politicians are masters at using language that reduces the net emotional impact of an issue. The term 'entitlement' is fraught with connotations of spoiled, demanding children who have tantrums if they don't get exactly what they want when they want it. As we become increasingly inured to the term 'entitlement' as it applies to both Social Security and Medicare (because those tax payments are intertwined), it may become easier and easier to convince voters and their representatives that we citizens have asked too much of our government, and now we will have to give it up.

I would remind our government that they started asking me for that tax 40 years ago, and have been asking for it every working year since. If I paid for it, it's not an entitlement - it's my money. And I want it all back.

The United States of Misogyny

On Wednesday, November 17, the United States Senate denied women one more opportunity to gain full legal parity in the workplace. In a 58-41 vote, the Senate defeated the Paycheck Fairness Act (S. 3772). This act, which had already passed the House and surely would have been signed into law by President Obama, would have closed gaps in the 1963 Equal Pay Act. That act lacked the legal teeth to help women prosecute, with some measure of potential success, unequal pay in the workplace. With the upcoming changes in the House and Senate, the chances of the bill being resurrected in the next Congress, let alone making it to the President's desk, are somewhere between slim and none.

After over 40 years of taking a stand for women's equality (I started young - learning about the National Organization for Women from a feminist high school social studies teacher at the age of 15 and being encouraged by my parents - yes, the plural is intended - to learn more about them), I am appalled at where we women still are in the societal pecking order.

I'll acknowledge a few strides: I have an M.B.A., earned over 30 years ago in the first wave of women attending professional schools; I have a daughter who is a pastor - a nearly unheard of female professional opportunity just a few years before she was born. My other daughter feels no pressure to be married, and I like to think my sons have a healthy respect for women. I will even throw in the fact that I was able to have certified nurse midwives and non-interventionist births, thanks to the demands of my contemporaries for more control over our bodies.

But...

During the 2008 election, I had the opportunity to participate in a symposium at the National First Ladies Library, and a reporter from Time Magazine noted how tough the press was being on Hillary Clinton, while it was letting Barack Obama off lightly. This reporter believed that then-Senator Clinton was under tougher scrutiny simply because she was a woman candidate. The reporter also went on to comment that while male candidates could easily get a few powder puffs on the face before they appeared on television, Senator Clinton needed at least an hour to get made up to be acceptable visually to the public.

Then there are the fashions that have come out this past year. They are nothing short of disturbing. Ripped fabric suggests sexual violence. A little show of lingerie in the hem or neckline suggests sexual teasing. The myriad buckles, fasteners, and laces of boots suggests bondage. My daughter tells me that she talks to mothers of little girls who are dismayed at the clothing available for 3-and 4-year old girls. It starts that young. I have a colleague, the father of two daughters, who has expressed dismay over the currently acceptable levels of promiscuity. He wonders if virginity will ever be the rule, not the exception, again. Once again, we are sending girls, and women, the message that their bodies are more important than their brains; being available for sex is preferable to being available to problem-solve.

Women also continue to be treated as second-class citizens in medical care - this despite the fact that they are the gatekeepers for health and wellness in their families. Most medications for conditions common to both genders are tested primarily on men; symptoms that may vary by gender are not readily acknowledged (case in point: a woman having a heart attack may never have chest pain, but she may have neck and jaw pain). In the arena of childbirth, the most essential and precious experience any women can have, doctors have regained control by insisting on medicalizing what is typically a non-life threatening event for over 95% of pregnant women. In fact, the case can well be made that if physicians would treat every potential labor as normal, instead of as a cesarean waiting to happen, they would more readily identify those situations where a cesarean is clearly indicated.

Regardless of your politics, if you are honest you will admit that this country has exhibited a misogynistic attitude toward soon-to-be former House Speaker Nancy Pelosi. When she acknowledged the loss of the Democratic majority in the House, she rightly outlined her accomplishments as Speaker during her two-year tenure. They are formidable, but they will somehow be lost in the noise that has repeatedly characterized her with the "B" word.

I did a quick search to find out how many countries have female heads of state. The answer is 15. Here's the list: Brazil. Liberia. Germany. Argentina. Australia. Kyrgyzstan. Iceland. Costa Rica. Lithuania. India. Finland. Ireland. Croatia. Trinidad & Tobago. Bangladesh. Slovakia. With the possible exception of Finland and maybe Australia, none of the other nations has what we would term a rich heritage of gender equality. Nevertheless, women have successfully risen to the top of the political ladder to lead their respective nations, while female candidates in this country continue to be the object of belittlement and ridicule.

We want to believe that we are a nation that champions equality of opportunity, but our experience and our history tell a very different story. The psychologists would say we're either delusional or we're in denial. Those of us who have yearned for total and unequivocal equality would probably say a few other, very unprintable things. Regardless of which label is applied, the realities of the situation are still the same: two and a quarter-plus centuries since the founding of the Republic; 90 years after the granting of women suffrage; and roughly 45 years since the passage of the Civil Rights Act, women are still trying to achieve the equality that should have been theirs, without question, from the start.

Welcome to Air Steerage

The Boeing 757 seats somewhere in the neighborhood of 225 passengers, crammed in groups of three, on each side of the aircraft aisle. Leg room is minimal. Service is even less. On a six hour flight, the airline we traveled created the impression that it was being magnanimous to serve us "complimentary" soft drink beverages and 'snacks' (peanuts, cookies, or pretzels). Let me point out here, before the diatribe gets worse, that these drinks are technically not 'complimentary,' in that the cost of them has been included in the price of my ticket. Therefore, I have already paid for the drink. Once the "service" was completed, the flight attendants disappeared into the plane, hiding behind a curtain in the galley, thereby discouraging any contact with us passengers.

Having just spent the better part of this last year studying the steerage conditions in which my grandparents traveled to arrive in this country, I was struck by the parallels between their excursion and my flight: crowded conditions, indifferent staff, inadequate bathrooms, and lack of policing of other passenger behavior.

On one particular flight, a passenger in the row in front of us had managed to conceal her alcoholic beverages as "3 oz. liquids" in the quart-sized plastic bag that can get through security. She spent the better part of the six-hour overnight flight getting up and down to get more ice and clean plastic cups. Why the otherwise disinterested flight attendants couldn't smell this passenger's breath and figure out what was going on - and put a stop to it - is beyond me. When the flight attendant came by, at the end of the flight, to clean up remaining trash, she merely laughed and said, "I wished I could have joined you."

A few months ago, columnist Peggy Noonan wrote in The Wall Street Journal that we pay people to treat us poorly. How right she is. A woman can get drunk on-board, mutter insulting things to passengers soto voce, and be allowed to remain on the flight. Whereas, had I fully expressed my frustration and anger at the treatment I was receiving from the airline, I likely would have been removed from the boarding line. I paid the airline to cow me.

I will acknowledge that air travel carries with it a set of anxieties that are wholly unique to this mode of travel. In addition to the normal risks that accompany air travel, there are the unexpected issues related to mechanics, hydraulics, and weather. There are increasing tensions as terrorists continue to find ways to use airplanes to conduct their attacks. And there are the dangers that an on-board passenger, or passengers, will put an entire aircraft at risk.

All the more reason, then, that airlines ought to be pushing customer service, care for every passenger, and passenger comfort to the forefront. We know that the FAA demands safety, and that airlines can skirt those regulations at their own peril. Since flight safety should be a given, airlines should treat each of us with dignity and respect. Most of us are flying because we have traveled to see loved ones, taken a vacation, or may be looking for a new place to live. We want the entire memory of our collective experience to be positive - not marred by the unwarranted hassles and indignities that seem to be the stock in trade of some airlines.

We are not "the huddled masses," as were our ancestors. Unlike my forebears, who never planned a return trip across the Atlantic once they arrived here, most of us, myself included, hope for another opportunity to travel again.

I guess I was mistaken in thinking that the indignities of steerage ended when the door to mass immigration closed in 1924. I guess I was wrong. The practice of demeaning passengers has now been transferred to the airport.