What is "Womanhood" Anyway?

 By Sarah Duggan 

The memoir of "a year doing X crazy lifestyle stunt" is a well-established book trend (gimmick?) right now, and one I'm sure historians of the future will love trying to dissect. Personally, I think we love these stories because we're suspicious that modern life has all the keys to happiness, and it's nice to know that you can test drive other ways of living or find fulfillment by challenging yourself through some project.

Rachel Held Evans' A Year of Biblical Womanhood: How a Liberated Woman Found Herself  Sitting on Her Roof, Covering Her Head, and Calling Her Husband Master definitely fits this trend, and it's one of the best I've  read. It reminded me of Gretchen Rubin's The Happiness Project, with its reading list and monthly themes, but with the added fun of Biblical exegesis. Evens grew up in Evangelical Christianity, a church where the adjective "Biblical" serves as a stamp of approval and as a prescription for proper behavior. Through her year of exploring the women of the Bible, Evans analyzes her religious culture's expectations for women, especially how the domestic maven of Proverbs 31 often serves as an achievement checklist.

Rarely has anyone asked me if my life is "Biblical" enough, but being a Catholic woman comes with its own set of baggage. There aren't many saints who led a "regular" life - most swore off marriage and/or died grisly maiden deaths. You have to navigate modesty dress codes as well as vocation angst and the possibility that all the good men are either taken or discerning the priesthood. May crowning selection can feel like a homecoming  queen competition and then there are the debates over if and how to use things like NFP, homeschooling, and mantillas.

In her Year of Biblical Womanhood, Evans forces herself to tackle some of the feminine practices she's avoided, like learning to cook and sew. She puts coins in a swear jar of sorts every time she's "contentious" and practices silence at a monastery. Some of the more conservative habits, like head coverings and ritual impurity during menstruation, she's glad to abandon, but trying them gives her new-found respect for the more conservative women who embrace them. I loved her email friendship with an Orthodox rabbi's wife in Israel and visits with Amish women. In each new experience there are spiritual lessons and opportunities for humility and grace.

In Evans' own words, she also "subjects common assumptions regarding 'biblical womanhood' to an examination alongside the actual biblical texts and explores how hermeneutical biases are at work in our interpretation of this concept." Contextual analysis, Hebrew vocabulary, and even some goofy satire challenge buzzwords and sacred cows of Evangelical culture. For example, she turns Proverbs 31 on its head, countering that it was meant as a litany of praise for feminine genius, not a benchmark of requirements. The Bible doesn't uphold one master template of womanhood. Rather, its heroines are often outsiders, risk takers, and paradigm challengers.

There were many moments when I looked up from the page and thought, "Geez, I'm so glad I'm Catholic." The Blessed Mother's a lot to live up to, but at least we have a New Eve to balance out womankind's role in the Fall. Evans tells of preposterous sexism, like debates whether female Sunday school teachers violate Paul's order to be silent in church and wedding sermon admonitions that wives mustn't "let themselves go" lest their husbands be tempted to stray. Then there is the radical patriarchy crowd, which translates the Hebrew ezer, or helpmeet, as "personal assistant and comfort woman." Evans examines New Testament verses on marriage and realizes that Christian married sexuality is really about mutual self-giving and service. OMGJPIITOB! That's exactly it.

I'm so glad that I share my spiritual journey with courageous, outspoken women ranging from my namesake, Abraham's wife, all the way to philosopher and martyr Edith Stein.  I'm grateful for the Catholic tradition of celibacy in the religious life, which challenges the notions that women must live under a man's jurisdiction or that men are bundles of animal urges that must be properly satiated. Both scripture and the lives of the saints are packed with women who "prophesy," teach, and give witness.

Evans' book inspired me and also challenged some of my own preconceptions. Just as there is no exact Biblical woman prototype, there is no one papist female paradigm. (I like to call her "Catholic Barbie.") Fears of judgement reflect my own self-criticism, not the spiteful side-eye of ladies who love the rosary more than I. Women who wear veils to Mass or homeschool a large family aren't doing it to condemn me, just as I don't wear dresses to Mass just to spite my friend who shows up in jeans.

I was never enough of a "Little Flower" to be May Crowning material. At my First Communion, I was assigned the first reading instead - apparently my literacy trumped any appearance of delicate piety. And maybe I'm ok with that. Literacy is a gift I have to offer. I still read at Mass, and being a lector makes me feel connected to the life of our parish.

Last week I did another First Reading, this time an excerpt of the Acts Pentecost speech. When I lost myself in the words, I could feel Peter and the Psalmist moving through me. At that moment, I wasn't just my literate self; I was a vehicle for the Holy Spirit, just one of many down the line. That's what God calls all of us women to be.