During communion in church today, I got teary eyed. It wasn't the spiritual gravity of the moment. I woke up this morning, like I do on most Sundays, not wanting to go to church. I've been going to the Sparks United Methodist Church for 6 years. It's the church that is seeing my children grow up. I've worked on different committees over the years. For most of those years, I've been involved in the prayer chain. I take down prayer requests during service and email them to all the ladies on the chain. It is this responsibility that compels me to service every Sunday. I don't go to church for God, or Jesus, or Pastor Tom. I go to church for Phyllis Diedrichsen. Phyllis is a warm, gracious, delightful lady on the prayer chain. She is a petite octogenarian who exudes great energy and cheer. When I don't show up, Phyllis takes down the requests. Because of some hearing problems and pain issues, it's a chore that is quite taxing for her. For Phyllis' sake, I go to church.
This morning during communion I was looking around at the congregation. In a nearby pew was Marie Hum. I don't know much about Marie, yet she is also one of the reasons that I go to church. I know that she is a widow, probably in her 60's. She's tall like me, and from the few times I've heard her make a prepared speech, I know she writes beautifully. She is a quiet, perceptive introvert who served in the navy and every Sunday morning she greets me warmly like an old friend. In front of the church was the pastor's daughter, Sherolynn. She's a young woman, and the congregation has watched her grow from teenager hood into adulthood. In the past few years she has grown into a warm and caring individual. We have seen her go through break-ups, break-ins and lay-offs. The congregation is united in cheering for her as we watch her make her way in the world.
I recently read the book, Mary Magdalene, a Biography by Father Bruce Chilton. In the book Father Chilton describes how he is confronted by the questions of a dying woman who wants to know, 'who is there for me?' The Bible is full of stories of men. Religion was designed by and is run by men. Who is there for us? Father Chilton builds the case that Mary Magdalene was not just Jesus' disciple, but his most trusted disciple. He disprooves the Da Vinci Code theory that Mary was the mother of Jesus' child. That theory, he argues, doesn't promote the position of women in religion. It only relegates Mary Magdalene's role to that of vessel. Instead, he offers the possibility that Jesus chose Mary as an apostle because of her intellect and knowledge of exorcism. His theory gives women a much stronger and admirable role in the Christian faith.
In Sue Monk Kidd's book, Dance of the Dissident Daughter, the author searches for a feminine spirituality. She discovers that early Christians prayed to a father/mother dyad, 'From thee, Father, and through Thee Mother, the two immortal names, parents of the divine being.' As men took control of religion in a power grab, they manipulated the feminine divine out of Christianity, and castigated women to a position secondary to men. I often wonder why women are so devoted to their churches and to God, when religion treats us as insignificant. I also often wonder how different my spiritual and cultural life would be if women had at least an equal place in organized religion. It is hard to stay dedicated to a thing that has left me behind.
As I knelt by the railing I prayed, 'Heavenly Father,' I have a very tough time picturing God as a Mother, 'help me to serve the women of my church as they have served me.' And then I became teary-eyed for all the women who have devoted themselves to a religion that has so cruelly ignored us.
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