What Shall We Call Our Women?: An Observation from T.T. Eaton

In a widescale attempt to provide lesser known blogs with good publicity, the honorable Owen Strachan has linked my blog with the notatable description: "history." I have to admit that while historical reflection was the reason I started this blog, my recent posts haven't exactly lived up to that vision. That said, it's time I started getting back to the basics. So without further a-doo-do...

I was digging through Boyce Centenntial Library's T. T. Eaton Papers today when a particular essay caught my eye. This Eaton essay was entitled: "What Shall We Call Our Women?" Eaton was a unique man of Baptist history, described by Russell Moore as "a man of the church who stood athwart history, yelling, 'STOP,' with a Bible in his hands." I also heard it said that Eaton represented simultaneously both what was right and what was wrong with 19th century Southern Baptists. If that is the case, then surely this essay represents all that is right and good! This man had an uncanny talent for observation and unintentional wit as evidenced to this very asute point that would have otherwise escaped my attention.

Eaton lamented the fact that Americans had no good formal title with which to refer to the bone of Adam's bone and the flesh of Adam's flesh (aka: the woman). Most cultures divide women into two classes: married and unmarried. In English, the married woman is known as a "Mizzez" (note the hard pronunciation), while the unmarried woman is referred to as a "Miss."

First, Eaton took issue with the appropriateness of "Miss" when referring to a single woman. Webster's Dictionary, of course, defines "miss" with such undesirable connotations as "a failure to hit the desired mark." Clearly, as Eaton suggested, this is not the sort of implication we should convey to our young, single women! As if to add insult to injury, the "miss" stem is often used as the base of many unpleasant compound words such as "mistreat" or "misunderstand."

Eaton, upset that even "Mizzez" sounded too gruff and unpleasant an honorific for the glory of man, conceded that other cultures have bested the English language in their formal references to the fairer sex. German uses the dignified distinctions of "Frau" and "Fräulein." French makes use of the magnificent terms, "Madame" and "Mademoiselle." Spanish uses the sweet sounding "Señora" and "Señorita." But English, that great universal language, can only muster up the unpleasant "Mizzez" and potentially embarrassing "Miss." America, according to Eaton, possessed a superior sort of women to any of these forementioned cultures, yet it rewarded them with the least attractive honorifics.

What then shall we call our women? I don't really know what Eaton would have recommended, as I did not have time to finish the essay and couldn't run off a copy since it was a manuscript from the library's special collections. But I suppose we are all captives to our culture at some point.

With great indebtedness to our late Brother Eaton,
I am,
On the Shoulders of Giants

"Strict Communion Less Exclusive than Paedobaptists?" or "Should the Water Divide Us?"

The Open Communion VS. Strict Communion debate has once again enticed a generation of Baptists holding to competing views. The question is an old one, "should our churches invite all Christians to partake of the Lord's Supper or just those who have been baptized?"

The open communicant answers, "All Christians should be invited to partake of the Lord's Supper."

In contrast, the strict communicant (under which I include both "close" and "closed," though I disagree with the latter) answers, "Only those Christians who have obeyed Christ and have been properly baptized (baptism meaning "immersed as a believer upon profession of faith") may be invited to take the Lord's Supper." This sort of answer immediately brands persons of this persuasion as exclusive, divisive, and more committed to ecclesiasticism than Christian love.

For the sake of putting my cards on the table, I confess I lean closer to the strict communion tradition.

This nuanced debate is unique to Baptists, as far as I can tell. Baptists are concerned about how to treat a Christian of another denomination if he should attend a Baptist worship service in which the Lord's Supper is being served. Is excluding him from the Lord's Table equivalent to an insult against his godliness?

The best argument I have heard on the subject is quite simple. I encountered it in John Quincy Adams' (not the U.S. president of the same name) Baptists: The Only Thorough Religious Reformers (1876).

To paraphrase Adams' argument:
1. In the New Testament churches, all who were baptized and members of the church were admitted to the Lord's table.

2. One considered a proper subject of baptism would never be excluded from the communion.

3. Baptists receive all proper subjects of baptism (i.e. believers who have been immersed upon their profession of faith).

4. Paedobaptists consider infants who are sprinkled to be legitimately baptized and members of the visible church.

5. According to this logic (of #4), all baptized infants should be admitted to the Lord's Table.

6. Yet, these infants are excluded, and thus the "paedobaptists are most inveterate closed communionists."

7. Paedobaptists have no argument against strict communion Baptists, who "refuse to receive persons whom we consider unbaptized, when they will not receive their own baptized members."

John Quincy Adams, Baptist thorough Reformers (1876), Reprinted: Rochester, NY: Backus Book Publishers, 1982, 160-161.

Solid paedobaptists and the like all believe that no one should be admitted to the Lord's table without being properly baptized. I find it ironic that on this particular point, strict communion Baptists agree with them 100%. The disagreement is on what constitutes a proper baptism. At the risk of sounding cliche, I suppose it all depends on what your definition of "is" means.

Speaking of the Dead (in Christ)

Speaking of the dead... I'm finally getting around to updating my blog!

The title of this entry carries a double meaning.
There are a number of reasons I have cut my blogging back to a minimum these days. One is that I have a very slow computer that always eats away more time than I can spare on little exercises like blogging. Another is that my brain is low on creative impulses. But the biggest reason is that I am trying hard to bridle my tongue so that I won't write something I might regret later. I believe blogging is a good thing, but I'm trying to mortify a few areas of my life that need more discipline.

One important reminder in this struggle occurred a few months back when I forgot the important fact that what one writes on the internet doesn't always communicate as well as a face to face conversation.

I left a mildly sarcastic comment on a blog in response to something another commenter had written. I'll spare the names of all parties involved, but the gist of the exchange was:
Commentator: "Was [said theologian] fat? I like fat theologians!"
Me: "Yes, and skinny theologians everywhere are offended. :-)"

At the time, I did not think my comment was rude or disrespectful.
A few weeks later, however, a respected mentor of mine came across the same blog and noticed my comment. He confronted me about the matter, and ,while not expressing any explicit signs of anger, challenged me to consider whether such a comment displayed appropriate respect to the legacy of this particular glorified saint. As a result of this conversation, I realized that my statement was careless if not intentionally disrespectful.

I was challenged with the concept of speaking of the dead in Christ as if they are still alive. In a very real sense, of course, they are. As Hebrews 12:1 reminds us, "Therefore, having so great a cloud of witnesses around us . . . let us run with endurance the race that is set before us."

I want to be careful not to suggest anything akin to saint worship, but the Bible reveals that God's glorified people, faithful in life, faithful at death, now serve as historical testimonies to the grace of God. Their lives and ideas are not above criticism and godly evaluation, but they are all certainly worthy of our respect, no matter how prominent or how obscure.

So, as I continue to meditate upon the application of this truth, I conclude this entry with a deep appreciation for those who have tilled the soil in which I now labor.

I am,
On the Shoulders of Giants