Conversion is in the Wind

Conversion from sexism means both freeing oneself from the ideologies and roles of patriarchy and also struggling to liberate social structures from these patterns. (Rosemary Ruether, Sexism and God-Talk: Toward a Feminist Theology)

con·ver·sion Function: noun 1 a : to bring over from one belief, view, or party to another b : to bring about a religious conversion in 2 a : to alter the physical or chemical nature or properties of especially in manufacturing b (1) : to change from one form or function to another (2) : to alter for more effective utilization (3) : to appropriate without right c : to exchange for an equivalent

This is tricky stuff – the changing of beliefs and views, the altering of the physical or chemical nature, to alter for more effective utilization, to exchange for an equivalent.

For women, the changing of one’s own ideologies and roles is hard enough – but how to invite conversion in others? And institutions? It feels daunting and, if truth be told, far more often hopeless.

For myself, I don’t know, on a day-to-day basis how to go about making and inviting those changes. I hope that I am struggling well toward desired ends; but I, and many other women I know, often feel like we just don’t have the energy to keep at it. In fact, it often seems that the more we recognize the true shifting in our own ideology, the more aware we are of the lack thereof in institutions around us. And where to find the language to explain this to the other; to those who don’t experience patriarchy as anything but normative? Indeed, it feels daunting and often hopeless.

In the midst, at least tonight, I’m wondering about conversion as we understand it in Scripture. Though the word itself doesn’t show up in this text, we often associate the story of Nicodemus with Jesus’ “answer” to the question of conversion:

After dark one evening, a Jewish religious leader named Nicodemus, a Pharisee, came to speak with Jesus. “Teacher,” he said, “we all know that God has sent you to teach us. Your miraculous signs are proof enough that God is with you.” Jesus replied, “I assure you, unless you are born again, you can never see the Kingdom of God.” “What do you mean?” exclaimed Nicodemus. “How can an old man go back into his mother’s womb and be born again?” Jesus replied, “The truth is, no one can enter the Kingdom of God without being born of water and the Spirit. Humans can reproduce only human life, but the Holy Spirit gives new life from heaven. So don’t be surprised at my statement that you must be born again. Just as you can hear the wind but can’t tell where it comes from or where it is going, so you can’t explain how people are born of the Spirit.”

In this text, conversion is not clear. In fact, it’s quite confusing – at least to Nicodemus. It’s the Holy Spirit that brings new life and, I’d surmise, new ideologies, roles, and social structures, as well. In this context, the work of conversion is undoubtedly ongoing – and is best understood through the Jesus’ lens of such: something mysterious, unexplainable, and seemingly impossible.

That’s not what I want to hear or understand. I want to know the three or five or seven steps I can take to help move others – individuals and institutions – beyond patriarchy and into something more complete, whole, and just. And Jesus response? Be born again. I’m left, at least tonight, wondering how much my own ongoing conversion is necessary as I desire conversion for others? (Where will I be increasingly converted to grace and mercy and love?) I’m also wondering what it would be like for me to be far more intentional about inviting the Holy Spirit to that work and then trusting that the wind will blow whether or not I can see results.

“Just as you can hear the wind but can’t tell where it comes from or where it is going, so you can’t explain how people are born of the Spirit.”

Conversion is important. My ongoing work toward conversion is important. And the Holy Spirit is all about conversion. My tendency, far too often, is to work alone – thus change feeling daunting and hopeless. Tonight I’m compelled to ask for help; for a wind that blows mysteriously and powerfully for good, for change, for conversion; not just for others and institutions, but also for me. I’m compelled to be about inviting the wind, the Holy Spirit, into the ongoing work of the other women with whom I have beautiful and difficult conversations about daunting realities. And I’m compelled to pray – summoning a Wind that blows at our backs, not in our faces; a Wind that is warm, encouraging, mysterious, and powerful.

Indeed, conversion is in the Wind.

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