Our ancient mothers (and fathers, for that matter) did not prize the fruitful womb because of their time or culture. They did so because they were Christian.
Those longing for greater service/leadership/representation/whatever of women in the church never tire of arguing that the singular example of Deborah (or the virtually informationless examples of Huldah or Phoebe or Lydia) makes their case. These same proponents glibly discard Sarah, Rebekah, Leah, Rachel, Hannah, Elizabeth, and every other baby-loving woman in the Bible as mere products of their times whose lives, characterized by a high view of maternity, have no contemporary relevance and set no vocational precedent. Eisegesis at its finest, girls. Nice work.
There is neither historical nor personal quota on the tasks given to us through our first parents except that which God works. How mundane is our first father's name: the Earth-Man points us to our beginning and end. But how wondrous our mother's, which she receives even after her unbelief and fall. Eve, She Who Lives, points us whenever we speak of her to the essence of God's grace: that we earth-men live, impossibly, miraculously, here in time and there in eternity. To accept her utterly humble work is to--can it be true? for how can it be true of me?--receive her honor, that by her the dusty earth is filled with God's greatest work: LIFE, and life in the image of God, and life everlasting.
