Invisible Womanhood

By Arlyn Kantz

In my military upbringing in the seventies, it was not a question of if we were attending church, but where. Due to multiple moves across a landscape of splintering creeds, our family formed no deep denominational loyalties. Active participation in a local congregation remained high priority, and every time we moved, house hunting was followed by church hunting. My parents set forth to discover which iteration of which denomination would best invigorate our personal relationships with Christ. Preaching was paramount in the decision making. We kids were trained to check sermons against our own Bible reading. Our voluntary association with like-minded believers would increase our odds of remaining faithful to a biblical lifestyle.

In my adolescence, I did my best to ignore the fruits of the sexual revolution. The women’s movement did not resonate in the least with me. Perhaps it was because my father was loving and gentle. Perhaps it was because my Southern mother thoroughly enjoyed her femininity. I did wonder though, being intensely religious, where a girl might channel her spiritual zeal. How did a conservative protestant female do her part to build the Kingdom of God? My religious circle offered no sacrificial path except for becoming the wife of preacher or, for the super-serious, surrendering to the call of foreign missions. I set my sights on Africa, but I ended up marrying a Texan. Like my father, my husband is gentle and loving and home life has been deeply satisfying. But acceptable opportunity for women in the local Baptist church was a perpetual entrapment in the shallows, consisting mainly of retreats, conferences, and filling in the blanks of Beth Moore Bible studies. The problem lies not with endemic misogyny but with a pathetic definition of church.

Just last week on Facebook, an acquaintance from our Baptist days not only advertised his book on prayer, but also threw out ideas for naming the church he is hoping to start. Not one netizen batted an eye. Here in the Bible Belt it is not uncommon for men to pioneer and pilot their own congregation. These enterprises can vary from storefronts with spiritual-sounding catch phrases to humble prayer groups in suburban living rooms. As long as two or more people claiming belief in Christ gather and move through a rite of worship accepted by the group, the entrepreneurial entity can claim the title “church.” Thanks to Zoom this can now all be done online. My Facebook acquaintance would not understand in the least if I tried to suggest to him that his free-market approach to ecclesiology is at the root of the feminine rage battering American culture. Twelve years into Orthodox Christianity and I am only beginning to discover what should be, and never has been, offered to American women.

In the Gospel of John, when John the Baptist identifies Jesus as Messiah he says, “He who has the bride is the bridegroom.” He does not say “He who is the bridegroom has the bride.” In other words, if you want to know where Christ is, find His Church. Good news, ladies: the icon of femininity that came into full flower at Pentecost remains to this day, and is hidden in plain sight.

If you enter the ancient Church, you will taste of feminine glory and will find, over time, that Christ’s blessed bride has more to offer than we can take in––her feasts, her fasts, her saints; her keeping of times and seasons; her candles, her art, her icons; her ancient wisdom. The all-male priesthood, Christ’s living icon, is a servant in her Liturgy. The holy images on her walls are a testament to her transformative power. Her architecture is a training ground for self-discipline and holy intimacy. She is the archetype of hospitality and nurture, the icon of holy womanhood.

All you outside her doors, enter in
All you born in her cradles, enter in
There is no exhausting her treasures
There is no depleting her succor
Come in and know her better
Come in and be changed

As an evangelical, I would have pooh-poohed the trendy question “What is a woman?” But is it really such a ridiculous inquiry when the archetype for womanhood is nearly impossible to find? Is not some degree of feminine confusion and frustration understandable given the cultural insistence that Christ’s bride is invisible––a vast sea of faithful devotees known only by God? What woman wants to be invisible?

The man-made, do-it-yourself church of America has lost what little moorings to the ancient tradition it once had. Everyone who walks into these self-labeled gatherings has permission to inspect and judge. Does this gathering meet my needs and the needs of my family? Should we search elsewhere or remain and make suggestions? How is the music? Did the children enjoy Sunday school? What do we sense about the pastor’s theology? This poor substitute of our own making is not the God-given archetype of womanhood, but a pitiable co-dependent Mother, begging not to be left. But …

The Ancient Church will not change —
Her Mass to please the modern
Her honoring of Mary to please the Muslim or Mormon
Her creed to please the Roman Catholic
Her sacrament of marriage to mollify the same-sex-attracted

Her doctrine of salvation will confuse the Calvinist
Her hierarchy will frustrate the Congregationalist
Her ancient Liturgy will stifle the spontaneous charismatic

But come pilgrim
Do you not long to be changed?
All you outside her doors, enter in
All you born in her cradles, enter in
There is no exhausting her treasures
There is no depleting her succor
Come in and be changed

---

Arlyn Kantz came into Orthodoxy from a Bapticostal background in 2011. She lives in Alvarado, Texas, and attends Archangel Gabriel in Weatherford. Kantz has Sunday school curriculum in the works with Ancient Faith Publishing, writes fiction under the pen name A.J. Prufrock, and is quite the graphic designer to boot!