(Click
here
for Part I.)
This life
is an interesting journey, to be sure...
On a
recent Sunday morning, I woke up to an interview of Toronto's Cardinal Archbishop Thomas
Collins on CBC radio. He was talking to Michael Enright in connection with the
50th anniversary of
the second Vatican Council of the Catholic Church. Michael asked Archbishop Collins about the ordination of women,
and his reply was that the church cannot change the male priesthood that was
instituted by Christ. And I replied, aloud, “where exactly in scripture did
Jesus say that only men could offer the Eucharistic meal and that women aren’t
allowed to participate as fully in the priesthood as men? And why do you cling to man-made laws over justice and equality for Jesus’ female
followers, who hear God’s call just as clearly as men do?” I'm sure I reacted that way
because I know a few of those female followers personally, women who feel they are unable to live their vocation because the Catholic Church won't allow it.
Cardinal
Collins’ interview was an interesting start to a day that we had planned, as
a family, to go to Ruth’s house for eucharist. I’ve known Ruth for almost 30
years, ever since we both worked at a Catholic youth summer camp, but I had
lost touch with her until recently, when I learned (by a series of what a
friend of mine likes to call “God-incidents”) that Ruth was ordained a Roman
Catholic Woman Priest this past spring. I contacted her, and after some thought and prayer and a few emails back and forth, I finally asked my family what they would think about
attending a mass with a woman presider. Without exception, they were all VERY
interested, so we let Ruth know we were coming, and off we went.
I know that this moodling will ruffle some feathers (if it hasn't already), but I risk sharing these reflections here because, for me, silent acquiescence to a male-only priesthood feels like a perpetuation of injustice. Over the last few weeks, I've discovered that ruffling a few feathers on this topic brings about interesting discussions and new awareness. Maybe, just maybe, those things can help to bring about the ever-dreaded but often-needed event known as change.
When we
arrived at Ruth’s house that Sunday, we were greeted at the door by some of Ruth's community.
After introductions all around, we and two others who had never been there before were invited into the living room, where the kitchen
table was surrounded by living room furniture and a few strategically placed
kitchen chairs. There were duotangs containing the prayers of the liturgy, in
which God was God, Source of all Being, Father and Mother God, and tender-God,
a name with a double meaning that I really like. Readings were passed out among
the group, we had a short music practice of a couple of less familiar hymns,
and we began the liturgy in the name of God, Source of all Being, Eternal Word
and Holy Spirit. Throughout the celebration, God was transcendently Great and Glorious and Triune, but also close and loving and intimate.
The
penitential rite and prayers were less formalistic versions of what we
usually hear on a Sunday at our church, with beautiful, evocative imagery.
After we heard the scriptures, Ruth began the homily with her own reflections
about the story of the Rich Young Man and the other readings, and then invited
the gathered community’s reflections. For my husband, this felt more like a
bible study than a homily, but our kids were most attentive and interested in
the sharing of ideas and self expression. Our kids heard every word of that homily. When I quiz my kids about homilies from
the pulpit at our church, the usual response is often a blank-eyed shrug.
The
Eucharistic prayer was simple and covered all the usual bases, with no
over-emphasis on the masculinity of God. Not having God stuck in male pronouns was refreshing (but no worries, Jesus was definitely male). It was also amazing
to hear Ruth pray for our bishops Richard, Gregory and Marie. At that point a
tear trickled down my cheek, and I found myself praying that the fullness
of humanity could be represented both in the clergy and throughout the liturgy, male and
female, simply and without fanfare. A missing piece clicked into place.
We sang
no acclamations but the Alleluia and the Holy, but other than that, the mass
proceeded as usual until the prayer of Jesus, which began, “Our Mother-Father
God, who art in heaven...“and ended, “For the Kin-dom, the power, and the glory
are yours...” Ruth broke the bread and offered the plate/patten to the person
next to her, saying, “The Body of Christ,” and it was passed from person to
person that way, as was the wine. Ruth received communion last of all, a much
different model than the one offered by the male-led Catholic Church at present.
After
communion, we reflected quietly for a few moments and prayed for peace in the
Middle East. The closing prayer concluded with, "The mass is ended. Let
your service begin!" We sang River of Glory, and were invited to enjoy
coffee and snacks in the kitchen. The cats were allowed out of their bedroom
exile, and our kids enjoyed making friends with them while we got to know the other adults.
The mass
in Ruth’s living room was simple and beautiful, and there was a warm sense of
community among the dozen of us who hardly knew each other at the start. I’m
sure Jesus was there among us, and present in the bread and wine consecrated by
the Holy Spirit and Ruth, yet at the same time, I felt Rome breathing down my
neck, saying, “WE HAVE NOT SANCTIONED THIS. HOW DARE YOU GO AGAINST MOTHER
CHURCH!”
It reminded me of the disciples running to Jesus and saying, “Teacher, we saw
someone casting out demons in your name, and we tried to stop him, because he
was not following us” (Mark 9.38) -- just change the pronoun's gender.
Ugh. If it wasn’t for
Rome's rules, it would have been a perfect day.
Our kids enjoyed the experience of mass at Ruth’s, and told Ruth herself that
they look forward to return visits. They don’t have their parents’ hesitations
and hang ups when it comes to stepping outside of the boundaries set by Rome.
My own struggle is not with the idea of women presiding – it’s that so
far, the Holy Spirit hasn’t nudged the hierarchy to give Roman Catholic Women
Priests full stature in the Church. The Church seems to be going the other way entirely, putting women's ordination on par with pedophilia as a grave sin (I wish it weren't so, but here's a
link to a Time Magazine article.) Simply by the fact of her ordination, Ruth
has suffered the Church's worst punishment -- being excommunicated -- even though she can trace apostolic succession right back to Christ through the laying on of hands, just like any other priest. But she clearly loves the Church, prays for
it, and does what she does because of her love and her desire that it come to
fullness in Christ. She
IS faithful to the Catholic Church and
has been all her life -- the only part of the pope’s teachings that she ignores
is where it says that only men can be priests.
The more
I think and study and pray and learn, the more I understand that Jesus didn't set
out to be the founder of Catholicism, or even Christianity... those things just
happened on their own (with some help from the Holy Spirit, whose true
intentions are rarely fully followed by we imperfect human beings with our very human biases). That God loves us and wants relationship with us is what Jesus came to show us. Unfortunately, his followers make church about power and authority too much
of the time. But as Henri Nouwen says in my
Bread for the Journey daily reflections book on October 26th,
There is such an enormous hunger for meaning in life, for comfort and
consolation, for forgiveness and reconciliation, for restoration and
healing, that anyone who has any authority in the Church should
constantly be reminded that the best word to characterize religious
authority is compassion. Let's keep looking at Jesus whose authority was expressed in compassion.
I suspect that very compassion would rule out sexism if Jesus had his way. Sexism is
an ugly thing wherever we find it in our world, and not, I'm convinced, what Jesus intended.
Most of the other Christian churches have recognized this and made necessary
changes already. I can't help but think how much richer the Catholic Church would be if everyone who discerns a true calling from God
could share their priestly gifts within Christian community! As Ruth is doing. We certainly wouldn't be facing a shortage of time-pressured priests that forces our faith into
mega-churches; rather, we would have a wealth of men and women connecting with
a world of people hungry for God -- and I'm guessing that most people can find God more easily in intimate Christian communities than in a huge crowd of strangers.
As much
as I loved mass at Ruth’s house, I won't turn my back on my little parish community,
though I am praying that God’s calling of women to the priesthood in the Catholic Church will soon be
as fully recognized as men’s vocations are. I'm delighted to see Ruth quietly
answering God's call and living her vocation in her own way, even if it makes
her persona non grata in the eyes of the hierarchy. I pray that the Holy Spirit
will continue to work gently through the Roman Catholic Women Priests, and that it won't be long before they are called back into the arms of Rome, because when that happens, I think the Church will become much more welcoming and less narrow-minded -- it will become fully inclusive, and create a greater sense of community in the world through its wide compassion.
I was a
little concerned that mass with a woman presiding would feel like “playing
church,” but that wasn’t the case at all, and I am sure we will join Ruth again
from time to time. Eucharist at Ruth’s was a simple, beautiful, and deep experience
of God's love, and I came away wondering, for the second time that day, “what
is the magisterium so afraid of?” But I suspect the real question is, “Is this
the Holy Spirit’s quiet and gentle way of bringing about change, a few hearts
at a time?”
God of Conscience, God of Courage, give us whatever grace we need to work for the coming of the reign of God now, here and always. Amen.
-From a prayer by Joan Chittister
