St. Mark's Episcopal Church, Millsboro, DE
Pentecost X - July 28, 2024
*Transferred Feast of the Philadelphia Eleven (/9/29)
Preface of Baptism
They didn’t believe them.
According to St. Luke, there were at least three of them whose names were known:
Mary Magdalene, Joanna, Mary the mother of James; and then there were “the
other women”. They had come with Jesus from Galilee and, after the crucifixion,
came to the tomb, prepared to perform the ancient rituals of burial that women
had been assigned for centuries.
It has ever been thus. Women have always been present to help when a person
comes into the world. We see that in the first lesson from the Book of Exodus
when the two Hebrew midwives, Shiphrah and Puah, deliver both Hebrew and
Egyptian women of their babies.
Women have always been present at the incarnation of birth and at death, and
now, when we see them together in the tomb, we ought not to be surprised that
they were the first to be present at the resurrection. But, the Eleven didn’t
believe them. Scripture tells us that they said their words seemed “an idle tale
and they did not believe them.”
Tomorrow marks the 50th Anniversary of the Ordination of Women in
The Episcopal Church. Eleven brave women who had already been ordained deacons presented
themselves for ordination to the priesthood at the Church of the Advocate in
Philadelphia, PA. Four bishops, three retired and one active, agreed to ordain
them.
The story of their journey to ordination is no idle tale. The struggle of their
stories to be faithful to their vocation is reflected in the stories of those
women in those early years of the ordination of women in The Episcopal Church.
The resistance was sometimes dramatic and cruel; other times, the resistance
was very sophisticated and nuanced and even scholarly. Sometimes it was both,
depending on the source and the circumstance.
My own favorite story of the sort of sophisticated, scholarly resistance is one
I personally experienced, but I was certainly not the only woman who heard these
words. For me, it came from the man who was Canon Theologian in my diocese -
which was Maine. I was a member of the Cathedral and he was on the Diocesan
Staff. We had worshiped together for several years. He had witnessed the
ministry I had there, at the Cathedral, and knew my story.
He said he did not doubt the sincerity of my sense of call. It was not the sincerity;
it was the authenticity. You know, as if I were simply telling an ‘idle tale’ but
with great conviction. Still, he said, he could not support my ordination.
Why? Well, hold on. I’ll say it slowly, as he did to me, and loudly, the way some
people speak to a person from a country foreign to you because, if you speak
loudly, they are certain to overcome the language barriers. You know, like when
you are in a different country and you don’t speak their language so you yell “Where
is the bathroom?”
The Canon Theologian said to me, his nose in the air as if he had caught a
whiff of a bad odor, “I believe you have ontologically insufficient matter for
a sacerdotal ministry.”
The polite translation of that would be “You ain’t got the right stuff or ordination,
kid.”
The more dramatic and cruel version happened
when I was about seven years old. I was a scrappy, scrawny immigrant kid whose
parents worked the factories and the mills but I was very devout in my faith,
even at a young age. The nuns knew me because I had attended daily mass with my
grandmother for as long as anyone could remember.
It was one of those times when we were ahead of our lesson plan and Sister
Bucky (her name was really Sr. Bernadette but we called her Bucky behind her
back because she had terrible splayed teeth and, well, kids can be cruel), our
teacher, was filling idle time asking us to answer her question, “What do you
want to be when you grow up?”
The boys went first. They all wanted to be doctors, lawyers, businessmen, and
one, I remember, wanted to be a priest. We all knew he didn’t really want to be
a priest but he was a real suck up - an Eddie Haskell type for those who
remember the TV program “Leave it to Beaver”. We knew he really wanted to work in
his father’s hardware store and then take over the business after his father
retired. He often bragged that he was “set for life”.
The girls went next. Lots of future “Mommies” answered in the group. A few secretaries
and one or two teachers and nurses. I was very clear about what I wanted to be,
and said so loudly.
“I’m going to be a priest,” I said. And, everyone giggled. Except the boys.
They laughed. Real loud. They practically fell over each other, slapping each
other on the back like it was the most hilarious thing they had ever heard.
Sister Bucky laughed with them and said, “Don’t be ridiculous! You know better
than that. Girls are nuns and boys are priests.”
“No,” I said, thoughtfully, seriously, respectfully, resolutely. “No, I’m going
to be a priest.”
The look on Sister’s face was enough to have soured a glass of milk. The kids
saw it immediately and a few giggled nervously, looking down at their shoes.
Sister Bucky was not amused.
“No,” she repeated. “Girls are nuns. Boy are priests.”
“I know,” I said, sensing danger but pushing through, “But, I’m going to be a priest.”
Sister moved closer to me and, catching me
completely off guard, slapped my face. Hard. I closed my eyes and held the side
of my face, trying to take in what had just happened.
When I opened my eyes, Sister’s face was inches from mine. She actually growled
as she said, “Don’t you ever say that again. Girls are nuns and boys are
priests. Understand?”
“Yes, Sister,” I whimpered. She told me to go to the bathroom and wash my face
and then return immediately to my seat in the classroom. There would be no
recess and no snack for me.
When I got home, my mother looked at the red welt on the side of my face and
asked me what happened. I told her the whole story. My mother listened
carefully and then said, “Well, what did you expect? You were very naughty. You
come from a good family. You embarrassed your whole family today. Now, don’t
you ever say that ever again. Do you understand?”
And, I never did. Not until I was in my late twenties, by now a young, divorced
mother who had found spiritual refuge and comfort and sustenance in The
Episcopal Church. I had heard about the Philadelphia Eleven but I wasn’t really
certain what to think about it. I had never met a woman priest so it was not a
reality for me. Like a lot of other things in my life, I found it easier to
just shut down emotionally and spiritually and just get on with my life. I understood
the assignment and was obedient to it: Never talk about it ever again.
One Sunday, home from church at the Cathedral, I sat down to read the NY Times,
which, in those days weighed about two pounds, all folded into “Sections”.
(Remember?) The NY Times Magazine Section fell out and there, on the floor, on
the front cover, was a picture of The Reverend Martha Blacklock, rector of St. Clément’s
Episcopal Church in the Theater District of Lower Manhattan. There she was, sitting
on the church steps with her little Jack Russel terrier, wearing jeans, sandals
and a black, short-sleeved clergy shirt and a white Anglican collar.
I remember looking at the picture and bursting into tears. There it was,
despite what Sr. Bucky and my mother had said. Proof. Women can be priests. And
that was the start of this amazing journey which has led me, 38 years later, to
the enormous privilege of serving you, in this church, in this pulpit, at that
altar, today.
It's probably hard for you to imagine that my story is real. I don’t blame you,
really. It’s hard to imagine - even for me with all I have been through, with
all so many of my sisters have been through - that such a thing could have ever once been
true. It’s hard to imagine, since there are now so many of us in The Episcopal
Church, that there was once a time when there were no women who were priests,
much less bishops. Or, in fact, acolytes or crucifers.
Pew Research estimates that today, 40% of priests in The Episcopal Church are
women. The House of Bishops reported last month that about the same percentage
- 38% - of bishops are women - at least 15 of those women are women of color. And yet, here we are, trying our best to live
into the words of St. Paul that we are “all children of God through faith.” And
that “there is no longer Jew or Greek, there is no longer slave or free, there
is no longer male or female; for all of you are one in Christ Jesus.”
The ordination of women is not an idle tale, but a cautionary one for the rest
of the world which does not hold the value and worth of a woman’s life equal to
that of a man or even a tiny cluster of cells. For those of us who believe in
Jesus, who strive to follow his teachings, who believe in the resurrection and
the gift of the Holy Spirit, well, we take equality of personhood a thing not
to be taken lightly or inadvisedly. We are, as Jesus commanded, to love one
another as He loves us - unconditionally, beyond gender or social status or age
or race or sexual orientation.
For those who believe in the Incarnation of God in Christ, who believe in the
freedom of the love of Jesus and the power of the Holy Spirit, which is the
gift of the resurrection, the question of the man who spoke to the women in the
tomb rings in our ears, “Why do you look for the living among the dead?”
For if we are alive in our faith, then we - like the ancient midwives of Egypt,
Shiphrah and Puah, and the women at the tomb, Mary Magdalene, Joanna, Mary the
mother of James, and “the other women,” and the Philadelphia Eleven: Alison
(Cheek), Alla (Bozarth), Betty (Bone Shiess), Carter (Heyward), Emily (Hewitt),
Jeannette (Picard), Katrina (Swanson), Marie (Moorefield Fleisher), Merrill
(Bitner), Nancy (Hatch Wittig), and Suzanne (Hiatt); and the courageous bishops
who ordained them, Daniel (Corrigan), Robert (DeWitt), Edward (Welles), and
Antonio (Ramos) - we all will find the courage to hear, trust and follow the
Holy Spirit wherever she may lead, that the gifts of all of God’s people may
flourish throughout the earth, through Christ our Savior.
For the story of the resurrection of the church, like the resurrection of Jesus,
is no idle tale.
Amen.
*Propers transferred with permission of the Bishop Diocesan
*PRAYER FOR THE PHILADELPHIA
ELEVEN: Jesus our brother and friend:
we rejoice that your Church raised up, prepared and supported the eleven women
ordained as priests in the Church of the Advocate on the Feast of Mary and
Martha of Bethany. We pray for those known as The Philadelphia Eleven: Alison
(Cheek), Alla (Bozarth), Betty (Bone Shiess), Carter (Heyward), Emily (Hewitt),
Jeannette (Picard), Katrina (Swanson), Marie (Moorefield Fleisher), Merrill
(Bitner), Nancy (Hatch Wittig), and Suzanne (Hiatt). We thank you for the
bishops who ordained them, Daniel (Corrigan), Robert (DeWitt), Edward (Welles),
and Antonio (Ramos). Thank you for calling these women to priesthood, and for
giving them the resolve to answer. As Mary and Martha brought diverse gifts to
your service, so may we choose the better part, seeking to serve you in all
orders of ministry, for the sake of the Gospel, the good of your Church, and as
a gift to the world. We pray as you have taught us, in your life-giving name.
Amen.
PRAYER FOR THOSE WHO DIED: Holy God, author of life, you who love those who
are in the world, love us to the end; we thank you for the lives of those first
women to be priests in The Episcopal Church, who have passed from this life to
the next. We remember them and call out their names into the universe: Alison (Cheek), Suzanne
(R. Hiatt), Jeannette (Picard), Betty (Bone Schiess), Katrina (Wells Swanson).
Inscribe the witness of their deeds in our hearts as you have written our names
in the palm of your hand. May they rest in peace and rise in glory. Amen.
(* Adapted from a prayer from the DioLA)
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