Falling fruit is not enough

Let’s be honest, it’s not unusual to bump up against the patriarchy. It’s not unusual to have to call out unintentional everyday misogyny. It’s exhausting sometimes but for some reason this week’s episode has stuck with me so this is my way of processing it, saying it’s still not ok and issuing one of those deep sighs again. Call it cheap therapy if you like.

It all started with a Caravaggio picture. I’m quite a fan and have used his art myself so it’s not about him or even really about this picture. It’s his take on the meal at Emmaus where the recently-risen Jesus sat down with a couple of disciples and broke bread with them.  They were all pretty peckish as they’d just walked 7 miles together, debating and discussing the hot topic of the day – the execution of Jesus the Nazarene rabbi at the hands of the Romans. For some reason the followers hadn’t recognised him until the meal, the moment Caravaggio paints.

I was in a training day with clergy and we were invited to see what we noticed about the picture. Aside of the fact Jesus doesn’t match my mental image, the first thing I saw was a room full of men. The leader asked for feedback so once he’d picked on a few men I leapt in with my observation. 

I guess he wasn’t expecting quite such a forceful response, but I didn’t feel I belonged in that picture and I told him so. What followed was a magnificent example of the patriarchy at work.

The leader had good news for me. Apparently I do belong but I just hadn’t noticed. You see there’s a gap at the front where I could slip in if I wanted to and join the group. There’s even a bowl of fruit that was about to drop off the table. If I was quick enough I might be able to catch it before it fell and have some. I indicated (maybe the description is actually ‘declared forcefully’!) I didn’t want to join and the discussion moved on. I don’t think I’ve ever been so clearly mansplained.

In the aftermath I have reflected on that brief exchange.

• The leader apologised to me in the break, which was great. I don’t think he’d ever seen the problem, but you know what – if he’d said that at the time, it would have been fine. We all need help seeing things sometimes, not least of all me. Telling me it was a picture ‘of its time’ didn’t help his cause. Choose another one!
• Other women in the room came up to thank me. It wasn’t just me though I’m happy to be the disrupter.
• What those men in the painting are doing is discussing theology. Unpacking scripture. For centuries women have been excluded from leading and learning in the church. We still are in places. We still face the unspoken and spoken attitudes that we should keep silent. In the room that day we were silenced and pushed to the edges again and it’s painful. I do not want to be offered the fruit that falls from the table; I want to be invited to the full three courses.
• Context is everything. At the moment it feels as though the church is not a safe place for some of us, and all too often it is the voice of women which is silenced. 
• The church is not Jesus. Jesus welcomed Mary to sit at his feet and listen. Jesus spoke theology with the woman at the well. Jesus told Mary Magdalene she was the one who had to pass on the crazy resurrection news to the men. Jesus sat on the lap of the woman who sang the Magnificat.
• The room was dominated by male clergy. I have no idea where the women were but this, and the fact the day was led by three white men, made the whole setting feel very ‘blokish’. I thought we’d moved beyond this but in this part of the church, it feels all too common.

Sometimes these things feel petty when you write them down. It was only a picture after all. But the pain was deep. The memory of being marginalised is still there. The fear of speaking up means the reality of misogyny in the church still holds power. I know there’s risk in being the disrupter. I have some superb supportive male colleagues surrounding me and I am ever grateful to them. But I also know that my stance on inclusion and my writing and preaching on feminist theology has won me no friends in certain sectors.

But hey, there’s always Grace Petrie and the badge that sits in my cassock pocket.