The Left are self-absorbed narcissists. No matter the subject, everything in the end is all about them.
Here’s an example: A Protestant minister named Ruth Everhart, who identifies herself on her website as “a Presbyterian pastor, currently serving a small church in Bethesda, Maryland,” says she’s “hurt” by Christians’ honoring of the Virgin Mary because it “oppresses” women by setting an impossibly high bar for women. To top it off, Everhart blames, not just church “culture,” but the Virgin Mary.
Below is Ruth Everhart’s op-ed, “Our culture of purity celebrates the Virgin Mary. As a rape victim, that hurts me,” which was published in Washington Post, the piece of sewage that calls itself a newspaper.
“Church culture tends to be fixated on sexual purity year-round, but during Advent, I’m tempted to blame it on the Virgin Mary. After all, she set an impossibly high bar. Now the rest of us are stuck trying to be both a virgin and a mother at the same time. It does not seem to matter that this is biologically impossible. Can you at least try?
I’ll speak for myself. I was raised in the church and taught to be a good girl, by which I mean obedient, quiet and sexually pure. That worked reasonably well until I was 20. During my senior year of college, my housemates and I were the victims of a home invasion. The intruders held us for hours and took turns raping us at gunpoint. The next year of our lives revolved around the criminal-justice system.
Of course, I was traumatized. But what was harder to describe — and more long-lasting — was how the crime became bound up in a sense of sexual shame. I wondered constantly: Did I somehow deserve to be raped? Had the rape ruined me irreparably? Both questions seemed inevitable. After all, what is the opposite of being sexually pure? Sustaining irremediable damage. Being ruined.
I’m not blaming my sense of ruin on the Virgin Mary, not entirely. Protestants do not claim Mary in the way Catholics do, but every Advent I feel a sense of kinship. I know what it’s like to be a good girl whose life got upended by what someone did to her body. Of course, her story plot was good and mine was bad. Plus she was, well, a saint. And I’m not.
Still, I study her this time of the year — always dressed in blue with downcast eyes — and want to ask: ‘How was it really? And how do you feel about what the patriarchy has done with you?’
I’m convinced of this: Mary is not responsible for what we’ve done to her story. Church culture has overfocused on virginity and made it into an idol of sexual purity. When it comes to female experience, the church seems compelled to shrink and distort and manipulate.
Maybe that’s why, more than a decade after I was raped, I became a pastor. I had to face down the demons. To do that, I had to live inside church culture. I had to come to terms with Mary’s story, and so many others. What is the gospel call for women? I believe it’s more than being a good girl.
For starters, I believe it’s impossible to be a good girl — meaning unblemished and pure — and also inhabit a body. It’s certainly true if you’ve been sexually assaulted, and may also be true if you are fortunate to not have been.
I could say more about living in a female body, but it might be helpful if you just checked in with your own body right now. Is your body feeling quiet and clean and pure at the moment? Or is it hungry or noisy or smelly? Does it have needs?
That’s what I suspected. Bodies are like that. Even bodies that don’t bleed or ovulate or lactate. Bodies have needs.
Don’t get me wrong — I love having a body. A body is super convenient for getting around in. It is a gift from God.
If you’re a woman, it’s a complicated gift. But why does Mary’s story have to oppress women when it could liberate us? What would it look like if the church celebrated Mary’s story as a hymn to the beauty of incarnation? (Admittedly, we Westerners could learn a few things from the Eastern Orthodox traditions.)
The fact that God chose to send Jesus to inhabit a body is powerful. Let’s not assume this basic fact. The incarnation is one of the unique aspects of Christianity. Incarnation means that it’s not a bad thing to inhabit a body. Even Jesus’ body was ushered to earth via a birth canal.
See, there’s ‘birth canal’ in the same sentence with Jesus. To some that will be a problem. Why? Because to some people, vaginas are inherently dirty. They can never be purified. And isn’t that the definition of hopelessness? Does it bother you that half of the human population is condemned to hopelessness because their body parts can never be pure?”
Blah, blah, blah, blah.
You can read the rest of this Presbyterian minister’s drivel here.
In her essay of 1,062 words, I counted 21 variations on the “I” word — I, me, mine, myself. The number is higher if you include the words “our,” “us” and “we” — which, of course, includes “I”.
Here’s a sample of comments from readers of Everhart’s “it’s all about poor me” essay:
Bob Kellum: “WaPo, Can you REALLY not identify a certifiable loon when you see one?? Really… Does this ClapTrap actually make sense to you???”
ariadnatheo: “I dont believe you were ‘ruined’ in any way; I believe you were never all there. Apparently the bar for pastors is set very low. Imagine this pastor counseling rape victims on being ‘ruined.’ Why does Wapo publish this kind of maculature? Lowered standards everywhere…“
Ruth Everhart’s LinkedIn page says she’s the sole pastor of Hermon Presbyterian Church in Bethesda, MD.
God help this church!