Study update (because I know you're all DYING to hear how it's going)

So, it turns out I’ve chosen the WORST SUBJECT EVER if I was hoping this class would reassure me that my brain is still active and able. I started to get hopeful after the (very interesting) first lesson, until I checked the resources for the assignment and realised some were completely in Greek. I emailed poor Iona in the office again and asked (for the third time) if perhaps I’d misunderstood her before (twice), and I really did need to be able to read Greek, and she emailed back and said (very kindly) that knowing the alphabet would be helpful, but I absolutely did not need to know Greek and I’d be fine, and I’d love it, and the lecturer’s just an amazing scholar and it was all going to be great, etc., etc., etc.

So I thought “Phew!“ and I went to the college library and borrowed the required book on textual criticism for week two, and the lesson said to read pages 1-21 of the book and then answer some questions, so I read the pages and answered the questions, and then it told me to read pages 22-55 and answer some more questions, and so I did that, and then, when it asked me to read 20-or-so more pages, I thought Let me just scroll down and see how many more times this cycle will be repeated, and it turned out the answer was MANY MORE TIMES. By the end of the lesson, I’d read the entire. flipping. BOOK.

The subject is fascinating, and I’ve learned a lot already, but there’s something about the way the manuscripts are named (P⁴⁵, E, and Q are a few examples) that feels like reading a different language and makes my brain scream, “I’M PUTTING THIS INTO THE ‘Things that I will never understand no matter how hard I try’” box (while another part of my brain screams, “WE CAN’T PUT IT IN A DIFFERENT BOX! WE DON’T HAVE A CHOICE! WE HAVE TO UNDERSTAND THIS STUFF!”). It gets very noisy and stressful in there. And then, on top of the stupid naming system, there’s the fact that the texts I have to analyse literally are in a different language, and even though I have the translations and don’t need to understand anything but what I’ve been given in English, staring at a page full of nothing but Greek and impossible manuscript names is DOING MY HEAD IN. 

Plus, the assessments for this class include a minor essay, a major essay, a book review, and weekly assignments, which is approximately SEVENTEEN TIMES more than I was expecting based on the other subjects I’ve done by distance. PLUS, now I’m panicked every time I open up a new lesson that I’ll be expected to read a WHOLE BOOK. So I’m dropping it. I decided today.

You know one thing that made me stop and think for a bit while I was reading that book, though (Introduction to New Testament Textual Criticism by J. Harold Greenlee)? This quote from page 68 (he’s talking about instances where scribes intentionally changed the text of parts of the Bible as they copied it):

Intentional doctrinal changes which have received any appreciable [manuscript] support have almost invariably been changes in the direction of orthodoxy or stronger doctrinal emphasis. Movement toward a doctrinally weaker text is more likely to be an unintentional change.*

I find it crazily dazzling that these days those people who favour orthodoxy and stronger doctrinal emphasis are the ones who seem to believe the Bible came about in a simple, “[God] spoke it, [people] wrote it, and now we can read it” way, when back in the day, they were the very people making little changes to what the author had originally written!(!!!!) I wonder, if I could go back in time, knowing what the Bible is today and the types of passages that stir up arguments, would I change the text to make it clearer? Hmmm.

I might ponder that some more as I LOOK FOR ANOTHER CLASS.

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* In case you’re interested, that quote goes on to give examples: “Variants which seem intended to strengthen a doctrinal statement or introduce an accepted doctrine include the Trinitarian passage of 1 John 5:7-8, which has no non-suspect support in the Greek manuscripts; the addition of “and fasting” to “prayer” in Mark 9:29; the additions at the end of Rom. 8:1 and 1 Cor. 6:20; and the passage concerning the resurrection in 1 Cor. 15:51.”

Thoughts

from here

I think I’ve found my spiritual gift: making the weekly handouts for church. Me + Microsoft Publisher = useful church member. I’ve somehow managed to become the handout maker at both our old church (where they were called ‘bulletins’) and our new one (‘news sheets’), and am perhaps the only person in the history of both congregations to have stepped into the role with the intention of getting out of it as soon as possible (so much paper! So few readers!). Fortunately our minister is on board with my wily plan to phase out the news sheet ASAP. 

MWAHAHAHA.

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In the last week, on separate occasions, three people I’ve been thinking about have then contacted me later that same day. My suspicions that I have some kind of psychic power have been confirmed are growing.

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I like myself better in writing. I’m sure I’d get sick of it very quickly, but I often daydream about how good life would be if I could keep all relationships going purely through email; I reckon I’d be a much sweeter, funnier and more lovable wife, mother, friend and stranger if I could just write to everyone rather than interacting with them in person. I’d have to buy some software that would allow me to dictate rather than type, but that’s totally doable.

The Fictional Woman by Tara Moss

I read The Fictional Woman by Tara Moss last week. I’d been looking forward to it after a friend’s recommendation and also after listening to this interview, so I (say it with me) put a hold on it at the library, and then waited for my turn to roll around. I liked it. I liked that it’s Australian, and current (two things The Feminine Mystique was not). I liked that I’d heard Tara Moss on enough TV and radio to be able to imagine her voice as I read. I wasn’t expecting so much memoiriness and I found it interesting to hear her story, especially since (besides those shows and interviews) I knew very little about her. I liked being made aware of things that I’ve never given much thought before (such as the age difference between leading men and the women they’re paired with in blockbuster movies). I liked discovering that her views on pregnancy and birth are much like mine. I liked taking photos of Moses and Alan with the book in front of their faces (they’re not perfect, but Moses would only agree to stand still for one attempt, and Alan stubbornly refused to take his shirt off [it was quite cold, but still – how cool would that have looked?!]):

The tone of the book is quite measured, and this is a review to match; I can’t bring myself to rave about it, but I enjoyed it, and if anyone asks me if I think they should read it, I’ll say YES.

Here are a few quotes that stood out for me as I read:

“According to research from the Annenberg School at University of Southern California, when men make up 83 per cent of a group, the men in that group think it’s fifty-fifty men and women, and if just 33 per cent of the people in the room are women, men perceive that there are more women in the room than men. In other words, having women as only a fraction of participants seems to read incorrectly as gender equal participation – or even female ‘domination’.” (From page 139)

“In late 2013, the University of Messina published the results of a study in which 1100 fake resumes were sent out to 1500 advertised job openings. The resumes were identical except for the pictures of the ‘applicants’ and the names and genders used. A hundred university students had graded the applicant photos (which were reportedly downloaded from the internet and then Photoshopped so that the original people would not be recognisable) as either ‘attractive’ or ‘unattractive’. The study found that attractiveness played a large role in whether the applicant would make it to the next stage of the application process. This was true for all of the (fake) applicants, but particularly true for applicants using women’s photos and names. ‘Attractive’ female applicants were called back 54 per cent of the time. ‘Unattractive’ females were called back only 7 per cent of the time. This compares with ‘unattractive’ male applicants, who still got a call-back rate of 26 per cent – a rate nearly four times higher. Though the study was not designed to determine whether the more attractive applicant was ultimately more likely to get the job, the study did show that job opportunities for most people, but particularly women, were profoundly affected by perceptions of appearance.” (From page 173)

“While labels are not always helpful, it is notable that the opposition to the word ‘feminism’ commonly stems from concerns about how feminists are perceived by others. Some say it is the ‘ism’ in feminism that people don’t like, but I think it is the ‘fem’ – the reference to a female focus – that people react most negatively to. We may do well to remember that the term ‘suffragette’ was first introduced as a term of derision, not empowerment, to describe women fighting for the right to vote in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries. It was later embraced and reclaimed by women in the suffragette movement itself. ‘Women’s Libber’ was later used as an insult to describe women wishing to have rights at work and reproductive choice, as part of the Women’s Liberation movement of the 1960s and 70s. There has never been a ‘safe’ term for feminist activism. That in itself tells us something.” (From page 299)

Robot/Child

Kids can’t just be kids anymore; they have turned into little advertisements for their parents. 

From page 158 of The F Word: How we Learned to Swear by Feminism by Jane Caro and Catherine Fox

from here

I used to think that kids were like robots, and if you did the hard work of figuring out their operating instructions, you could program them so that they’d happily do whatever you asked them to and would never scream at you or decide you were no longer their friend. I thought that when we were out my perfect little robot would perform beautifully and strangers would ask me how I did it and then they’d tell me how impressed they were by him, and I’d hear all of their praise for him as praise for me (“He’s just so well behaved and polite!” they’d say, which I’d hear as, “You truly must be an amazing mother!”). I’d write books and travel the world telling people about how to program robots raise children to look exactly like mine, and everyone would wish they could be more like me. That’s what I wanted.

Up until this year my robot programming was going great guns; of course, there were times when Moses had his technical difficulties, but he was mostly a delight and ran fairly smoothly. I was proud of myself for figuring him out and programming him so well. I must be really good at this job, I told myself regularly. And then Moses turned three. (Or maybe it’s that his little sister was born; I still can’t tell whether it’s the age or the circumstances that cracked him/me.)

I’ve spent a lot of time this year scrambling to work out which settings to adjust to get Mo back to being my good robot again so that I could carry on with my plan to win awards for superlative mothering. I’ve spent a lot of time getting frustrated at my inability to control him and make him the perfect performer once again, and I’ve wondered if maybe I’m not that good at this job. I was supposed to be the mother who Moses would mention, upon receiving some prestigious award, as someone who was always there for him, a rock, constantly sweet and peaceful and helpful, an inspiration and encourager, rather than someone who often felt like yelling at him, “YOUR PROBLEMS ARE NOT ACTUAL PROBLEMS!!!” This was not going according to plan.

After months of wanting to return this faulty robot to the factory and demand a better replacement, I’m starting to untangle what’s Moses and what’s me, and slowly let him go and grow without feeling like everything he does is an advertisement either for or against my ability to look after him. I’ve realised that though controlling a robot would be far easier than dealing with this little person, deep down (like, really deep down) I appreciate the fact that I can’t simply adjust settings or push buttons to have Moses behave exactly how I’d like him to, but that he has a choice. It means that when he acts in ways I’m proud of it’s because he’s chosen to, and I can be happy for him taking any praise he elicits completely for himself; I’m good at other stuff, I don’t need to steal Mo’s praise. I’m becoming less concerned with how my child appears to others now, and more concerned with who he is.

I’m seeing that in many ways Mo is already budding into the kind of person I like being around now and will like being around when he’s older: he’s someone who expresses his emotions rather than bottling them up; he’s someone who questions me when he doesn’t understand my request or feels it’s unfair; he’s (mostly) respectful despite the fact that I’ve never demanded respect from him. He doesn’t jump to do whatever I say just because I’m The Authority and he must therefore submit immediately and happily; he thinks logically and critically and engages with what’s happening around him, and sometimes this means he tells me he thinks I’m wrong (apparently it’s inconsistent to vacuum up the daddy long-legs spiders if I really think that killing things is bad and daddy long-legs spiders are good for eating other bugs). 

As the years go by he’ll make choices I disagree with, he’ll yell at me in public, and one day he may even run away from home or join the army or a rugby league team or assert his independence in some other way I’m not a fan of, and I may be tempted to think of him as a robot again and wonder, “What did I do wrong? What buttons should I have pressed instead? Which dial should have dialled? Which lever should I have levered?!” And I’ll have to remind myself that he’s not a machine, and so why on earth am I asking me those questions as if I’m the programmer responsible for his crazy decisions? 

Or he may always say ”Please” and look after those around him, and one day he may ace exams and become a champion for worthy causes and win awards and kick bazillions of literal and metaphorical goals or assert his independence in some other way that may tempt me to think, “Look at him doing so well! It must be because of my awesomeness!” And I’ll have to remind myself that he’s not a machine, and so why on earth am I patting myself on the back as if I’m the programmer responsible for his wise and good decisions?

Of course, I’ll play some part in shaping the person he becomes, as will Alan and many others along the way. But it’ll be a guide-y part rather than the control-y part the parenting books so often talked about. This way involves far more analysing and second-guessing and explaining, but we’re learning a lot together, and (contrary to what I’ve feared for a while now) I think we’re going to be okay, my little non-robot and me, his good-enough mother. At the very least, because he’s a person rather than a robot, I can believe him when he says, “I love you, Mum.”