On being oppressed

I am stunned when I remember from time to time that there still are people that think my lack of a Y chromosome renders me unfit to even collect the offering at church.

We recently moved and had to take a few weeks to church shop. (Ugh.) I have been told that I am too critical and seem only to notice the negative things. This is patently false—well, that second part anyway—but when it comes to churches, it's totally true. In keeping with that, my requirements for a new church are a list of things I do not want. In no particular order:

1. Being the youngest people there
2. Only men up front
3. Homophobia (or the "love-the-sinner-hate-the-sin" version)
4. "Shine Jesus Shine"

Problem is, there's this draw to the Mennonite church that I haven't been able to ignore. We console/placate ourselves on #3 by saying over and over again in my head, "At least there's conversation about it."

So we went. And it was pretty great. People actually talked to us! Lots of crazy connections and "You know her TOO?" sorts of conversations. These are totally normal conversations in a Mennonite church. Anyone who's ever been remotely connected to the Mennonite community knows what I'm talking about. Being new to town, our heads were dizzy with the promise of friends. Hushed invites for going out for beer, etc.

So we went back. That's when I noticed: three men and a 15-year-old boy collected offering. Coincidence? Please please please please please. I asked the cool bearded farmers market guy after the service, "Hey, potentially sensitive question. Are women allowed to collect the offering? Or... do... anything? Besides play the piano?" The answer was basically "No, the old people would freak out, and we just sort of defer to them. [And wait for them to die.]"

It feels hopeless even though my kind makes up 50% of the population.

At the kitchen table when we got home, I said, "They let a 15-year-old boy collect offering but not a grown woman! . . . You will probably never understand."

"I won't."