I must wait for the sunrise
I must think of a new life
And I mustn’t give in
When the dawn comes
Tonight will be a memory too
And a new day will begin
(“Memory” from Cats by Trevor Nunn and Andrew Lloyd Webber)
In Cats, Grizabella sings of the memory of a wonderful and glamorous past, which is vastly different from her now seemingly plain life. However, she desires a new life and hopes for the promise of a new day.
I also have hope for a new day; but I hope for a new day where future memories will replace those of despair. I hope for a new day where women no longer have to struggle for equal opportunities, and patriarchy is but a memory. I long for the rising of the sun, which brings the dawn of a new day, where men and women of the church are truly co-laborers in the Lord, and there is no gender discrimination. I wait for the sunrise of a lived egalitarian church community, where the patriarchy of tonight becomes just a memory.
I long for the daylight of God’s intended equality for women and men to be realized by all.
I long for that sunrise that dispels the oppression of the night that goes unnoticed by some.
I long for the hope of what could be if we lived in a community of mutuality.
I long for a day when patriarchy is just a memory, and a gender hierarchy is no longer present in the church.
I long for the sunrise that brings a celebration and recognition of the equal worth of each and every person.
However, I must wait for the sunrise.
As I wait in the night, I dream of a new memory where women are truly viewed as equals. I wait for the new day to bring a new memory, one that will replace the current memory of exclusion and discrimination. I wait for the dawn of a new day, thinking of what life will be like when the sunrise occurs.
Though the long night is discouraging, I mustn’t give in. I must cling to the hope of the sunrise and allow my heart to sing of the dream of a new memory.