Epiphany XXII: Ellie

 

Good Monday morning, good citizens of the Epiphany Season. I have some sad news this morning. I've just learned that one of my mentors, the Rev Dr Eleanor McLaughlin died peacefully in the NH home she shared with her beloved spouse, the Rev Dr. Betsy Hess, a clinical psychologist and rector of St. Barnabas Church.

They had just celebrated their 24th wedding anniversary on January 12th. Bishop Gene Robinson presided at the marriage one day after it was legal in New Hampshire, and very soon after General Convention approved same-sex marriage. That's Ellie on the right.

In the coming days, there will be many tributes written about Elie. Many will be heartfelt. Most will be true. I have always thought that one of the definitions of "Divine Punishment" is that we never get to hear what people say about us after we die.

Here's the real tragedy, for me, about Ellie's passing. There are so many young women and men, newly ordained and not, who have no idea who Ellie was. And while that's a loss for them, the tragedy is that they don't know the history - or herstory - of which she was such an important part.

Here's the thing about Ellie. She was a church historian and served as Associate Professor of Church History at Andover Newton Seminary. She was also on staff, briefly, at St. John's, Bowdoin Street in Boston, where I was a seminarian.

She was a devout Anglo-Catholic, and in many ways, closer, actually to Rome than Canterbury in a lot of her theology. At least, at the beginning. Before her own transformation.

Because of those two factors - history and catholic theology - she was adamantly opposed to the ordination of women. Mostly, because it didn't make sense to her - or, what she knew - historically and theologically.

It wasn't until Ellie began to look beyond the context of history. As she wrote, "In order to understand the tradition of male priesthood and evaluate its continuance or alteration in the twentieth century, we need to broaden our view, for historical understanding is frequently contextual understanding."

Historical understanding is frequently contextual understanding.

Here is the key that unlocked her mind - and her own vocation - to the ordination of women:

"Priesthood, amongst other things, has to do with the realm of the Holy, its representation and communication to God’s People. We propose therefore to look beyond the traditions surrounding women in Holy Orders to the presence or role of the female or the feminine in the words and images used by medieval Christians for God, whom the priest in some way symbolizes."

Where she had once been touted around church and seminary and academic circles as The Leading Voice in opposition to the ordination of women, when she had her own conversion and vocational experience, the same folks who praised her intellect and academic credentials could not now dismiss her humble but enthusiastic support for the ordination of women, based not only on her own experience but the results of her intellectual inquiry.

Ellie was ordained to the diaconate in February of 1980 and to the priesthood in May of 1981, both by Bishop John Coburn. He was the same bishop who had presided over the vote in the House of Deputies (when he was a priest) to allow women deputies as well as to regularize the ordination of women.

I can not tell you the effect this had on the opposition to the ordination of women. It is not an exaggeration to say that the effect was something akin to a second-wave aftershock following an earthquake. Any remaining false gods of the patriarchy left standing were toppled or seriously damaged.

The silence of objection was glorious. Oh, it was only momentary, followed by the gasp of realization, but it was still highly effective.

Ellie did that. I want you to know that.

It's important that this part of our history is known and understood. Especially since it is entirely possible - indeed probable - for men and women to attend seminary and not be aware of the struggle women had in the first decade after Philadelphia Eleven.

They may have talked about the Philadelphia Eleven as an event in history, but nobody really talks about what happened in that first 10-year wave of women who were ordained - especially the story of the bitter, ugly, cruel, and often violent manifestations of sexism and misogyny for those who were not ordained.

Indeed, it may help us to understand the struggle women continue to have in the church in terms of equal employment opportunities as well as equal compensation.

Ellie was a huge influence on my formation as a priest. More than anyone else, she helped me to navigate the often choppy theological waters between Rome and Canterbury.

I will never, ever forget the Saturday she made available to the women in my seminary class who were about to graduate and be ordained to teach us how to preside at Eucharist.

As I recall, there were five of us. She took exquisite, elegant care to help us understand what it was we were doing - the enormous privilege we had - to be keenly aware of and grateful for it every time ("Every. Singl.e Time," I still hear her say) we presided - as well as all the rubrical considerations.

I can still hear her say, "The way you hold your hands, the tone and volume of your voice, the slight movement of your body as you notice that it will sway, slightly, to the presence and power of the Spirit as you recite or chant those the ancient words, all of that is part and parcel of the sacramental act over which you preside. You are inviting God's people deeper into the mystery that is God. Don't let anything distract you or them from that. You are a vehicle of God's grace. Never forget that. Ever."

I know Ellie said those words all those decades ago because when I prepare myself for the extraordinary privilege of presiding at Eucharist, I hear her voice, reminding me. Encouraging me. Teaching me. Entreating me, with the intense passion that marked everything Ellie did.

I will forever be grateful and blessed that she agreed to be one of my presenters for priestly ordination at St. Ann's Episcopal Church, "The Mill Girl Church," in Lowell, MA, which was built by the owner of the Lowell Textile Mills who imposed a tithe (as in 10% of their salaries - without their consent) on the women who worked the mills in order to build the church.

To "honor" their contribution he named the church after his wife. Whatta guy, huh? I'm sure he thought he was being generous.

I am the daughter and granddaughter of "Massachusetts Mill Girls." Ellie was fascinated by that. "You have to write a book," she said. "You have to tell the story of your grandmother and mother and aunts."

I never did. If I ever do, it will be dedicated to the Rev. Dr. Eleanor McLaughlin. I owe her an enormous debt of gratitude for which she never wrote an invoice and never expected to collect.

One last thing. At the end of their wedding ceremony, Ellie and Betsy sang together and asked the congregation to join them in an old, old hymn that is not in our hymnal. I hope is also sung at her funeral mass. The second verse of "Never Grow Old" is:

When our work here is done
And the life's crown is won
And our troubles and trials are o'er
All our sorrow will end
And our voices will blend
With the loved ones who've gone on before

Never grow old, never grow old
In the land where we'll never grow old
Never grow old, never grow old
In the land where we'll never grow old

Ellie, the person and priest and scholar she was, the theology she believed in, the history she enjoyed, the lessons she taught, the example she lived, and the role model she provided will never grow old. She will live forever in my heart.

I hope something good happens to you today.

Bom dia.