"The Glory of The Woman"

In Suehyla El-Attar’s sincere and entertaining The Perfect Prayer—thoughtfully reviewed here—an Egyptian-American woman remains uncovered but for one moment: a belated, mournful prayer.

Raised Catholic and intrigued by history, I once went to a church in Mableton that still says the Mass in Latin. Wouldn't it be neat to hear the words of the Church’s fathers in the language of their Roman oppressors? (Except, of course, for the Kyrie--that’s Greek.)

No.

There’s beauty in tradition, to know I can freely speak the Pater Noster in the same manner Galileo was forced to. But I didn’t like it. Most of it is spoken almost in secret by a priest with his back to the audience. It was the embodiment of Protestant critiques of Catholicism: a remote, hierarchical figure goes about some exclusive, archaic ritual.

Near the church's entrance sat a box of ugly, black, lunch lady hairnets and a note instructing all women to “Veil Yourselves.”

“Covering her hair is a gesture the woman makes spiritually to ‘show’ God she recognises (sic) her beauty is less than His and His Glory is far above hers.”

So God’s prettier?

Meanwhile the male congregants in prideful comb-overs stood, sat and knelt in unrepressed, hatless hedonism.

What's so offensive about a woman’s hair? It's exceeding sensuality? The graceful visual lines of strands and curls, the feminine smell, the silken, tactile feel? Perhaps the elegant, supple sounds it inspires?

It's like an incense-filled Eastern rite mass, stimulating all 5 senses.

And more.