The Belly of the Beast

It seems like that past week I have spent more time in the belly of the beast then I would like. This is a new, and delightful metaphor for Roman Catholic Church hierarchy. Whatever the details of our particular trials it brings about a tremendous mix of feelings in both S and I on our own terms and as parents of a girl child.

I had the tremendous privilege of presiding at 2 non religious weddings this summer. First of all, it is tremendously powerful to stand so close to 2 people who are saying their vows. Hearing their breath, seeing their tears, and sensing their anxieties- to be so close to such intensity really is a tremendous gift.

I think that many couples wouldn't be surprised to understand the privilege of sharing their intensity. . . but it is also a tremendous privilege, as a woman, to be invited to preside at someone's wedding. To be welcomed as some sort of authority in their sacred moment. The reality is that couples recognize something in me that I have been told, by the beast, to not recognize in myself. Now, that is a gift.

Let's be honest, the basis for any argument about the sole ordination of men is about who Jesus choose as his disciples. And continuing this honest trend, choosing gender is as arbitrary as any other similarity they all had. We don't require that all priests are fisherman. We don't require that they are all Jewish. We don't require that they are all circumcised. We don't require that they are all born in Palestine.

I must stop myself.


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