Since the Taliban took complete control of Afghanistan in 2021, women’s rights have been wiped out by a quick succession of ever-harsher rules and laws. The latest set of edicts introduced about a month ago requires that “women must completely veil their bodies – including their faces – in thick clothing at all times in public […] and will not be allowed to be heard in public under the new restrictions. Women must also not be heard singing or reading aloud, even from inside their houses.” Before we get smug about our enlightened, equal-rights society, let’s remember that in this country, women were granted the right to vote in 1928, less than a hundred years ago. In fact, for most of known human history, women folk were, at best, second-class citizens and, at worst, a man’s property to be traded like any other possession. With a few exceptions, to a great extent, human history is a sad story of male dominance, exploitation and abuse of women. Because such a patriarchal, misogynistic model was so prevalent, it was taken as the right one; very few questioned it, and even fewer tried to challenge it. The story in today’s first reading must be read in such a societal context to understand how revolutionary and counter-cultural it was.
First things first. Like the rest of that part of the Book of Genesis (the first eleven chapters), the story of the creation of a woman isn’t a scientifically or historically sound report of a factual event. Since time immemorial, people have been thinking about their origins. It remains strong these days, too; I recall many emails, phone calls and visits to my parish in Buckie when people, mainly from the US and Canada, were trying to track their ancestors. TV shows like BBC’s “Who Do You Think You Are?” are very popular, as are many online services offering tools for building family trees. In ancient times, people were no less interested in this kind of thing, but they didn’t have the internet or access to a plethora of written records. We find so-called origin or creation myths in most cultures. Although most can undoubtedly be entertaining, those quite convoluted made-up stories have little connection to reality. In that respect, the biblical origin myths are substantially different. They are more a result of sharp observational skills combined with meditations or reflections on the human condition – something resembling philosophical deliberations. Their outcomes were dressed up in engaging storytelling, but their message was meaningful, logical and compelling.
Let’s have a closer look at today’s first reading. It opens with a simple, accurate remark: “The Lord God said: ‘It is not good that the man should be alone.’” We are social creatures; interactions with others are a “must” to grow and develop into mature human beings. But that doesn’t mean some random, incidental interplays. The remark goes further: “I will make him a helpmate.” It’s a rather inadequate translation, which might suggest a subservient position. The new translation (that will come into force this Advent) is a bit more descriptive but significantly better: “a helper as his partner”, which implies equal footing. The procession of various animals brought to the man in search of a “helpmate” found them lacking; however unpopular it might be to say this, no pet can fulfil the role of “a helper as his partner”, and I’m saying that as a former, long-term owner of a lovely, well-behaved and much liked dog. The following process of creation of a woman out of the man’s ribs corresponds with his emotionally charged acclamation: “This, at last, is bone from my bones, and flesh from my flesh!”; a poetic way of saying that this creature is essentially (in a philosophical sense) like me, equal to me. It was a revolutionary pronouncement in deeply patriarchal societies, where women had no rights and no safeguards against abuse and exploitation. The final line presents the ultimate consequence of such equal partnership: “This is why a man leaves his father and mother and joins himself to his wife, and they become one body.” Note the direction of travel in this sentence; in societies with tight family bonds, it was counter-cultural that the man was “abandoning” his family in order to build a new one with his wife. The new bond of love between them gets so strong that they become one body. The biblical author presented in this moving story the model, the ideal of an unbreakable, loving relationship between two equal partners, the husband and wife.
Jesus referred to this ideal in today’s gospel to defend women’s rights. There was a provision for divorce in the Law of Moses; however, in practice, the reasons for divorce wildly ranged from a serious matter of marital unfaithfulness to whimsical dislike by the husband. Moreover, only the man could divorce his wife; she had no right to do the same. Once divorced, the woman had a hard time. But no one cared about her dire situation; she was just a piece of property. This kind of thinking must have been widespread and accepted as Jesus’ disciples asked him again to explain his thinking. What might look at first glance like a harsh, inflexible and uncompromising stance on marriage was, in fact, the defence of the defenceless.
Sadly, this passage has often been interpreted – dare I say perversely – in a way of strengthening the patriarchal model of owning the wife by her husband. There used to be a lot of social and moral pressure on women in abusive marriages to endure violence in various forms in the name of misplaced faithfulness to the marital vows or “for the good of the children.” Those who braved the pressure and left were often stigmatised and even ostracised by their religious communities, another brutal blow to an already broken life. Such painful mistakes – for those at the receiving end – come from taking ideals for reality. The former are given to us as something to aim at, achieve or grow into; a reference point to find our way through life and its challenges. In such a role, we need ideals, and we must cherish them and hold them dear. They are powerful because they offer uncompromising, black-and-white norms. Unlike life, which is often complicated and rarely offers easy, clear-cut options. When people find themselves entangled in difficulties, they don’t need condemnation but help. In the Church, we call it pastoral care. It must be offered to all who need it, and particularly to those who seem to be far from ideal. Jesus made it very clear when he said: “Those who are well have no need of a physician, but those who are sick; I have come to call not the righteous but sinners.” (Mark 2:17)
