Every ... single ... day

Every

single

day ...

I serve God as a priest in Christ's, Holy, Catholic, and Apostolic Church. Not a call I asked for, mind you, but one born of Christian obedience to the One who claimed me in baptism and shaped me to be a priest for the sake of the people God loves. And in spite of this ...

every

single

day

I hear from at least one person why I my call as a priest is not legitimate because I am a woman.

Every ... single ... day.

Yes, it is born of the culture of patriarchy in which I live that posits the superiority of men over women - to the great damage and detriment of men and women (and all gender expressions in between). The "great" legacy of western civilization is grounded on men having power over women and children. This same culture was inspired by God to write our sacred texts ... with just enough gender bias to make sure the status quo of power was maintained and enshrined within them to make God the "source" of male superiority ... even to the point of being described and spoken of as "He" and "Father" ... never "She" or "Mother."

Every ... single ... day

I am told I cannot be a priest in Christ's Holy, Catholic, and Apostolic Church because I am a woman.

The message isn't always directed at me personally ... but it is out there. Maybe it was an evangelical pastor of a mega church who claimed women were to be "houses" for a man's penis (oh yeah ... that's my single biggest aspiration in life), or a Facebook troll who excoriates me in a theological exchange in a discussion group and questions if I really am a priest, or the extended family member who quotes Ephesians 5 at me to tell me I am doing harm to my family by going to seminary, or the male clergy colleagues (even within my own tradition) who will trumpet from the mountain tops how supportive they are and blessed by the ministry of ordained women ... but who will, when the chips are down, act in grossly condescending passive aggressive ways which tell me their respect for my ministry and that of my sisters is only cheap talk.

Every

single

day

And sometimes I even get a "two for one" special ... where I have to stand up more than once a day to claim the call of Christ face to face with people I do not know who feel the special need to tell me what the Bible "says." That was my day yesterday ... a two for one special.

The first came at an outreach event to the poor and struggling in our community. A former parishioner, an elderly woman, came over to our church's table and said, "I was a member there for 50 years." Wearing my clerics, I turned and introduced myself as the new priest and extended my hand to shake hers. She gave me a startled look and reluctantly gave me the "dead fish" handshake. She told me her name ... I knew of her and I knew she and her husband left the church over women's ordination. She was quick to tell me, "My son is a priest. He had a call from God." And I spent the next 5 minutes hearing all about her son and his call from God to be a priest before she wandered off.

The second came later that afternoon. I received a phone call that a parishioner had been rushed to the emergency room after having a seizure. I stopped to get a big cup of coffee (I needed it at this point) and fill up my car with gas. Again, I was wearing my collar and a younger man stopped me at the gas pump ...

"Um ... the thing around your neck ... are you a ... uh ... a ... minister?"

"Yes, I am an Episcopal priest."

"I have a question for you, if you don't mind."

"OK ... sure. What is it?"

"What do you make of 1 Timothy 2:12? How do you understand your role in light of that? I'm really curious and not trying to troll you." (Hint: when you have to tell me you are not trolling me ... you are)

For those of  you who don't know "chapter and verse" ... 1 Timothy 2:12 says: "I permit no woman to teach or to have authority over a man; she is to keep silent."

"Well ... my own Biblical hermeneutic begins with a historical/critical interpretation to view the Scriptures in light of the culture and place where they were written and the audience to whom they were written. I take the Scriptures to be inspired by God but written by people who understood their experience of the Holy through their own cultural lens. To say that everything from a 2,000 old book, no matter how holy it is, applies 100% to our time, place and culture is not appropriate."

"OK ... but how do you decide what you choose to believe and not believe? Really, I want to know, I'm not trolling here." (Hint: if you have to say that a second time ... you really are trolling here!)

"We don't interpret the Scriptures alone - it is always within the context of a community and grounded in prayer."

"I see your point because we don't apply the passages about slavery anymore. We can read those in a different way today and maybe apply them to employer/employee relationships. But it still doesn't explain how you can be a minister in light of 1 Timothy 2:12."

"This is a bit too complex to stand here and discuss at a gas pump. I am on my way to the hospital because one of our parishioners was rushed to the emergency room. I need to go ... now."

"Oh ... OK ... uh ..."

"God bless you sir."

Every

single

day ...

One day we may come to a place where we regard these passages of female subservience and male domination the same way we do the ones about slavery - as a throwback to a time, place and culture which is no more.

But we are not there yet.

One day, I hope I can just be a priest in Christ's Holy, Catholic, and Apostolic Church ... without the word "woman" or "female" as an adjective tacked on like I'm some kind of misfit.

One day ... I pray that the gifts and graces of all God's children will be celebrated and allowed to blossom and flourish regardless of the bodily packaging this transitory life has dealt them.

But until then ... I will be questioned, grilled, condescended, ignored and rebuffed. It appears God has given me and my sisters this cross to bear

every

single

day.

OMG! You're a priest!

It's always amusing to me when people don't know what I am and then find out in some roundabout way. I was posting on Facebook under a fellow clergy's comment having something to do with living our faith authentically when I ended up in a back and forth conversation with a friend of this clergyperson in another state. The friend described himself as a "recovering Catholic" and we kicked a few ideas back and forth (in true versicle response style). After a few postings, he posted the following:

OMG! I just looked up your FB profile ... you're a priest!!! Why didn't you tell me that??

Me: Um ... yeah. You were expecting?????

It's not like I'm hiding it or anything (really, check it out here). He admitted his surprise was more about his Catholic upbringing where women had no business being ordained and also said he thought it was pretty cool that the Episcopal Church recognizes the ministerial gifts of all people.

I'd like to think that after 33 years of ordaining women in the Episcopal Church (traditionally, as many years as Jesus walked this planet), this wouldn't come as much of a surprise. But I guess it still does catch folks off guard. Or maybe it's just they can't believe I'm a priest - that still surprises me too. Not that I didn't feel the priestly ministry within - I had a call when I was 12 years old (back when "no girls were allowed"). More like I'm surprised that I'm getting to live this vocation out in the Church where I feel most at home now. It wasn't that way for a long time.

One of our beloved home bound members told me when I initially visited her, "I gotta tell you something. I don't like women priests." That came at the end of a pastoral visit that appeared to go pretty well. I said, "Well, it's not like I haven't heard that before." She replied, "Well, I'm old school and thought women should be nuns." I said, "That could be a just a wee bit of a problem for my husband and children." She laughed and said, "I know. But you're different - I like you! You come back any time you want to." We've since built a relationship where she told me recently, "You know, you're not like any other priest we've ever had. I feel like I can tell you anything and I've never felt like that with a priest." I was humbled ... and deeply honored. I'm blessed to be where I am being what God created me to be.

Tikkun Olam

I had a "first" last week. I went to a Jewish funeral. I had academic knowledge of Jewish funereal customs, but there's always a disconnect between knowing about something and actually doing it. Just ask anyone who is about 6 months out of seminary on their first call. "Gee, they never talked about this in seminary!" is a common refrain.

I had a patient who was in hospice care for just shy of two months who was Jewish. Now he and his wife (who was Christian) admitted that he wasn't a "very observant Jew." He participated in yahrzeit (the annual commemoration of the the death of a loved one), but that was about it. His sister and her husband were very observant - all of them belonged to Beth Shalom, the oldest synagogue in Frederick, Maryland.

I hadn't yet met the new rabbi at Beth Shalom but my patient assured me that the rabbi had visited him from time to time at the nursing home. This patient was open enough to allow me to be his chaplain and assist his prayers in ways which honored his Jewish heritage. During our time together, I supported both he and his wife with quiet presence and assurance.

Last Monday, I heard this patient had taken a turn over the weekend - he wasn't eating or drinking anymore and his weight was only 85 pounds (down from about 140). I called Beth Shalom to leave a message for the rabbi. Rabbi Murray Singerman called me back and we ended up meeting that afternoon with the patient's wife to discuss Jewish burial customs. It was a wonderful learning opportunity. Murray shared with us that the highest form of altruism in Judaism is to prepare a body for burial and bury the body. The community does this as an unselfish act - the dead cannot express their gratitude. I helped Murray make contact with the funeral home and made sure that our staff and the nursing home would not accidentally violate spiritual boundaries by bathing the body (which they would normally have done).

Murray prayed with our patient - in Hebrew and English. He recited Psalm 121 and said the Shema. He told us as we were leaving that the next day was Tisha B'av - a day of fasting and mourning. I wasn't familiar with this observance ... but I would learn about it quickly.

Our patient died in the middle of Tisha B'av ... right at the stroke of midnight! Tisha B'av is the day in the Jewish liturgical calendar which commemorates the destruction of the Jerusalem temple in 586 BCE by the Babylonians and in 70 CE by the Romans. Murray called it "the darkest night of the Jewish year." How ironic that the Almighty would call his "not-very-observant" son home in the middle of this dark night!

The funeral was scheduled for Thursday morning and I went to represent our hospice staff. Murray gave a wonderful homily which integrated the desolation of grief with the desecration of the temple. He also said that the Sabbaths which follow Tisha B'av are the Sabbaths of Consolation which will lead up to Rosh Hashannah. The Sabbaths of Consolation feature readings from the halftorah (the prophets) who speak the words of comfort promising the restoration of the Jewish people. This is also our consolation and promise in a journey of grief.

I went to the cemetery along with the family and Murray explained the Jewish traditions which we would observe. We would be burying the body - which comes as quite a shock to most Christians who have (unfortunately) had their burial rituals sanitized of this tradition. We processed to the grave and watched as the casket was lowered into the ground ... and just the ground ... no vault liners (Jews having been doing "green burials" long before it was fashionable). Murray explained that the first three shovels of dirt are put into the grave by the family using the back of the shovel. This symbolizes our reluctance in performing this act. Our patient's wife placed the first shovel of earth onto the casket and his immediate family followed. The rest of the mourners present, including me, also shoveled earth into the grave.

Once everyone had shoveled earth into the grave, we all sat down and Murray, with his sleeves rolled up in 90+ degree weather, kept on shoveling. He explained that we needed to cover the coffin. I realized that Murray, the deceased's nephew, and I were the only ones young enough and physically fit enough to shovel all that dirt. So I got up and grabbed a shovel and began filling in the grave. What a sight ... a priest and a rabbi shoveling away on a hot summer day to bury a good man!

The Jewish people speak of their ethical responsibility to repair the world. This is summed up in the words tikkun olam. I came away from this burial in awe that our Lord had provided this moment of grace where I could participate in a very holy moment. I believe taking care of the dying and dead and their loved ones is part of repairing the world.

The Priestly Mash

Last Saturday on the Feast of the Presentation of Our Lord in the Temple (Candlemas), I was ordained a priest! I know, it was Ground Hog Day too. Fortunately, I did not see my shadow, so I didn't have to remain a deacon for 6 more weeks. ;-)

It's been a long time coming and the service was amazing. Yes, it was full-throttle "smells, bells and yells" (well, not so much yells, but a little chanting from our bishop!) and the music was awesome. There were probably 250 people there - what a celebration!

The Episcopal Church follows the ancient rites of ordination which were first recorded by Hippolytus around 200 C.E. (hey, why change what works?). When a deacon is ordained, only the bishop lays hands on the person being ordained. But when you ordain a priest, the bishop lays hands on the ordinand's head and all the other priests lay their hands on your shoulders, neck, back ... wherever they can get a hand in without getting too personal. ;-) There were so many priests that the weight of all those hands was quite a mash and I'm thankful I don't have spinal compression problems! It was intense ... and very emotional.

But as is usual with me, a funny story ran through my brain in the split instant all those hands were pressing down on me. It was the story of Gregory the Great, who was elected pope in the mid-sixth century. He was a monastic deacon at the time of his election and really didn't want the job initially. So he ran away! He returned to the monastery and in time he accepted his election and became Pope Gregory I. I figured it would really be hard to run away with all those hands pressing down on me ... maybe this rite had practical applications in addition to the symbolic! :-D

It was time to do this and I had no intention of bolting for the door. I'd done the running away part for quite some time before God wore me out. Guess the good Lord gave me a gift of persistence, even when I don't use it well. Fortunately, God's more patient with me than I can fully appreciate or understand. That's grace in action for all of us.