Greetings, Paul! Grace and peace to you. I pray that this finds you well, and that your presence and wisdom continue to bless others in Christ's name. We Corinthians give thanks to God for your guidance and loyalty. We are a raucous bunch, but you continue to care for us. We care for you, too.
By the way, I covered my head while composing this letter so that the thought of me speaking to the scribe would not be too distracting to you. I know you advised us in your letter not to eat meat offered to idols (even knowing that we are no better for either eating or abstaining) if it might cause someone else to stumble, so I imagine that you would appreciate that I veil myself as I author a letter to you, even though I'm not in the habit of doing so. I would never wish for you to stumble, Paul.
Now, I would like to respond to a particular passage of your letter. But it's not the meat thing I wanted to write to you about. I think we understand that one pretty well, and anyway, it's just meat, right? Indeed, the purpose of my letter is the topic of women speaking in the assembly, covering our heads, and your intriguing logical wordplay about women coming from men and men coming from women. All of this, possibly more than anything else in your letter at the moment, has certainly got everybody at the assembly talking—especially we women—so maybe you can help us think through it. We don't mean to be contentious for contention's sake, but rather speak amongst ourselves and write to you for the sake of understanding in the community.
For ease of reading and discussion amongst ourselves, we have divided your lengthy correspondence into different chapters and verses (for instance, the aforementioned advice regarding meat is Chapter 8). Don't worry; I've enclosed herein a duplicate of your letter, fully marked for your reference. Feel free to turn to Chapter 11 and follow along.
First, my own greatest uncertainty: I don't understand your explanation that man was not "created for the sake of woman, but woman for the sake of man" (v. 9), if we are also to acknowledge that each is made from the other (v. 12). Humanity was not made for hearts, but hearts for human bodies; and yet without functioning hearts, bodies would fail and humanity would cease. What's more, if either men or women were to cease to be created—or, perhaps, were all female children actually put to death before maturity —it would be the cessation of the other. Only the ultimate Creator, the God who could miraculously restore life to a body without a beating heart, could also create new life without both a male and a female parent. A boy-child who would serve as Lord and Savior to male and female both entered the world by way of a woman's womb, like you and I, Paul. Yet some think that Jesus' Mother, Mary, conceived him solely by the Spirit; if this is true, it means more than one woman's purity maintained: it also raises the importance of woman in the salvation of humanity and reminds us that we, females and males, are quite interdependent indeed, even in spirit. Therefore, I pose to you that your argument of male authority by way of nature is weak if you must rely on the concept that man preceded woman in the beginning and yet understand the cyclical nature of our human creation, let alone our salvation. I do agree with you, though, that "all things come from God" (v. 12) and that neither sex is "independent" of the other (v. 11). Your argument about origins substantiates that much.
Speaking of origins, what makes you conclude that man "is the image and reflection of God; but woman is the reflection of man" (v. 7)? There are certain anatomical differences between females and males—from our facial features and builds to the genitals that most simply differentiate us at birth. Do we believe that God has genitals? A large nose; a tall frame? If woman is a "reflection of man," the "image and reflection of God," why are these features still different? Even ripples in the stream do not cause such discrepancies in the reflections we see. I have not seen the face of God, but I wonder if my face bears closer resemblance to the Creator in whose image all humanity was made than it does to that of a man—even my own father and brother. I suppose I cannot know.
Now I would specifically like to address the matter of covering one's head, an act which you have clearly set aside for women, lest a man disgrace himself. I'm concerned because I've heard that Jesus was crowned with thorns before his crucifixion. Did Jesus disgrace his head when he prayed to God on the cross, or when he prophesied to the criminal beside him? If he was disgraced, surely it was for the thorns given in derision; not for praying while crowned. Yet you say: "Any man who prays or prophesies with something on his head disgraces his head" (v. 4). Logically, Jesus was indeed a man and a mortal one at that point, or else we may need to reconsider our understanding of his death and resurrection. Should Jesus have removed the thorns when he wished to speak (provided that his hands had been free to do so)? Should he have simply refrained from audible prayer and prophecy so as not to be disgraced? Paul, what would you have had Jesus do? What does it really mean to be disgraced, and are there not exceptions in which a disgrace by human measure may be instead a sign of glory for the Lord?
I have decided to listen to you, Paul, when you instruct us to judge for ourselves on the matter of whether or not it is "proper for a woman to pray to God with her head unveiled" (v. 13). You reason that nature has given my long hair to me as a covering; that it is my glory. I can think of nothing more sound than to offer such glory openly to God. Furthermore, nature itself teaches me that I was created with vocal cords, but not with a veil. When I pray and prophesy, I typically choose to use only the former to invoke our Creator.
However, out of respect for the men in the room, lest they be distracted from God even as I speak solely of God, I will continue to remain clothed—and, if they are particularly weak men, I may even cover my head. Because we are so interdependent, so influential over one another, I realize that this may not simply be about my identity as a woman, but also about preventing man from being distracted by what you call the "reflection of man." (I hear that an unhealthy preoccupation with a reflection didn't work out so well for Narcissus.) Thank you for your insights into the limitations of men in our civilization and what we women might do in order to keep them safe and pure.
Before I forget, Paul, please send my love to your Mother. It's been so very long since we were together in Tarsus. Why, I think you were just a little boy still learning to talk. We had such a good time teaching you the power of words. Your Mother must be so pleased to see how eloquently you write today! No matter how much your life has changed in Christ, every time I read a letter from you, to this day, I swear I hear your dear Mother's voice.
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