Published in The Furrow Journal, March 2018
like gorse a lot. This piece below explains why. It was published on International Women's Day in 2018 in The Furrow, and seems appropriate to post it here on a day when I launch my new Facebook page, and move towards a space that I hope will allow me, and others to be seen as 'Women of God'...
Woman of God
Where do I go to be seen as a Woman of God?
To find a role that allows expression of that
And prompts others to look to me at times when they want
A person of God around?
I envy my husband and his fellow former religious
Their status of ‘former (practicing) priests’
It gives them a shorthand for ‘being into that God’ stuff
And they got – albeit not from all quarters- sympathy and understanding for the huge loss involved
In leaving their priestly role behind.
‘The stone the builders rejected has become a cornerstone’
I heard that line recently and wondered does that apply here? To me – and others like me?
Then realised ‘Well, no…
To be rejected, you’d first have to be considered’.
So, where do I go to be seen, recognised as a Woman of God?
I asked this question once
While within the walled garden of a retreat house
I marched around, fuming at the latest instance of non-consideration
During a small eucharist
The celebrant had handed me the Lectionary
At the point at which the Gospel was to be read.
I knew him – and knew him to be quite conservative-
So, for the briefest of moments I was shocked, taken aback
Unprepared to step out of my long-held sense of grievance.
I only had the book in my hand when the celebrant nodded at me
Indicating that I should pass it on to the very elderly priest seated beside me.
Oh foolish, foolish me.
The Gospel was that of the Prodigal Son
I listened, enraged
Ranting internally that we didn’t hear too much about the mother or daughters in that story
The only women to rate a mention were prostitutes.
Expecting there to be a shared homily
I waited to spit some of this out
But my seething must have been noted
As, Lectionary safely returned, the celebrant moved swiftly on
And I stomped outside afterwards for some air
And a chance to rant and rail at You, God
Asking how am I to live within these walls that so constrain?
Distracted by an old door along one wall,
I went over and - through a crack in it-
Saw the hillside beyond
With patches of gloriously yellow gorse
Returning to my pacing and my indignant fuming
I was again distracted, this time by a tree,
Its branches all reaching for the sky
Many of them clearing the top of the wall
Giving them a full view of the hillside and all that glorious gorse
And with that, came an answer of sorts
‘Move towards the light,
and you will see over the walls.’
Photo by Alistair Boyd on Unsplash