Dealing with Negativity toward the Church

I joined a Facebook group this week that looked interesting and left it after no more than two days. By its name it seemed to be a Christian group (having the word Christian as part of it) that honors the sacred feminine. While I did expect to see some pagan tendencies, what I did not anticipate was the strident anti-Catholic attitude of certain members (which in some cases came across as an attack on my spiritual journey).  I understood that some were motivated out of concern that I would make a grand mistake by joining the Catholic Church, but it was rude nonetheless. It didn't take long to realize that in general, this is by and large really not a Christian group.

What were the complaints? The word patriarchy overwhelmingly came up, as well as misogyny. Specifically, references were made to the sex scandals in the Church and the "hostile" refusal of women to the vocation of the priesthood. Now, I too have complained about the patriarchal history of both religion and the world and have bemoaned the plight of women and the destruction of our earth. Luckily, though, I do not have too many negative memories of church itself. There was one sermon in one church that left me feeling like I had been punched repeatedly in the gut and head, and I never returned. But the issue had nothing to do with women.

What I have lamented in my own church upbringing in Protestant denominations was the absence of Mary and the sacred feminine. But I have no resentment in this regard. The path that finally led me home was evidently the one I was meant to tread. I went to a church as an adult with a female minister, and I had no problem with that. In fact, she was wonderful! But I do not feel strongly that women need to be allowed to be Catholic priests, and if the Church has solid theological and historical reasons for this prohibition, I trust the Church's authority. And I think that is the key. The problem many people, from all Christian denominations, have with the Catholic Church is her claim to authority. Authority is not the same thing as abuse of power. I feel liberated, in fact, that the Church does possess and act with authority, that there is a place where Truth can be found, and where the cacophony of clamoring voices is hushed. I can confidently rest in the protective authority of the Church.

That is not to say that I have blindly believed every doctrine or dogma without question. But when I have doubts or confusion, I just keep praying and studying and have faith that understanding will follow in God's time and in His way. I go to the source. The Church teaches that God is neither male nor female but is pure spirit and possesses the perfect attributes of both Father and Mother. The Church herself is called Mother, and so is Mary, who is the foremost disciple of the Church. Traditionally, it is through Mary and the Church that the feminine, maternal aspect of God is revealed. And as I have repeatedly discussed, while the exclusive use of the name "Father" is problematic, it is not meant to exclude the motherhood of God. In a similar way, my blog, Organic Mothering, does not exclude fathering. Also, the Holy Spirit, while called Lord, is clearly depicted in bridal-maternal language, and in fact in both Sacred Scripture and Catholic practice is often referred to as Wisdom, who is personified in female terms. The sacred feminine may be hidden to a great extent, but she is quite certainly present. The very Divine Presence of God is Shekinah, another clearly feminine name.

It's true that there have been misogynist statements made by early Church fathers, and surely today as well, but that is not the official position of the Church at all. Many Church fathers also made egalitarian comments in favor of upholding the dignity of women, especially within marriage.

And as far as the Church's teachings on abortion, I am in full agreement. Legalized abortion has not "liberated" women; it has put women and all of society in chains instead. I'm still considering the subject of birth control, but I have no doubt that in many cases at least, it has been the cause of health problems and has negatively impacted morality. At any rate, none of the Church's proclamations on these women's issues would lead me to believe that the Church hates women, which is exactly what misogyny means.

I have not been Catholic in the past and have not had negative experiences in the Church, and I don't judge those who express their pain as the result of Catholicism. But that suffering does not come from God. The Church herself is not evil, but some of her members are. Holding onto resentment is poisonous to the soul. Some of those harmed in the past seem to give constant, new fuel to their anger. They don't seem to be willing to forgive and be healed. They want to stay angry and bitter. They evidently get some payoff from continuing to grieve and suffer, to refuse to unite their suffering with Jesus on the cross and then to come down from the cross and rise from the dead with Him. They have thrown the proverbial baby out with the bath water. I have compassion for those in this circumstance, but I can't dance around the fire with them and condone the way they keep throwing in more logs and fanning the flames. Emotions are contagious. Build up your immunity by staying securely under Mary's mantle!

My Catholic Great-Grandmother's Sacrifice

This past June the 8th, my 8-year-old daughter was baptized at Sacred Heart Catholic Church. My grandparents, who are Methodist, were present for the occasion. I knew from my mother that my grandma had been "sprinkled" as a baby, so I had a vague notion that she had been Catholic. But some Protestant denominations also baptize infants, and I never really knew the story. When I was growing up my family, including my grandparents, belonged to the Church of Christ. This was the church of my grandpa's youth. My grandparents left that church after long time membership and joined the First Methodist, which was the church that my grandma had belonged to in her youth. But it turns out there's more to this history.

Either before or after my daughter's baptism I had the opportunity to share my Rosary miracle with my grandma (see June 1 post). This brought back a flood of memory for her. She told me that she too had been baptized at the Sacred Heart Catholic Church. Her mother was a Catholic Frenchwoman, and she took my grandma and her older sister to church there when they were very young. My grandma's father, however, was Protestant, and he went to the United Brethern Church (from my understanding, this eventually become a United Methodist Church). So the family was divided by religious denomination and did not attend church together. My grandma told me that when she was only 3 or 4, they came home from church one Sunday, and there was a proliferation of pink roses in full bloom in her yard. She is 84 years old, and she still has this vivid image of the roses in her mind after 80 years. She can still see them perfectly. Why this particular memory stands out, she says she does not know...

In my mind, I am screaming, "Mary!"  Grandma associates the roses with her young childhood in the Catholic Church. And there is no more predominant symbol of Mary than the rose. Rosary literally means garland of roses. My grandma did not attend the Catholic Church past the age of 4. For the sake of family unity, my great-grandmother began attending church with her husband so that they could all worship together. But, my grandma told me, her mother never, ever stopped being Catholic. She never transferred membership to my great-grandfather's church. I believe strongly that Mary knew that my grandma, and her mother and sister, would be leaving the Catholic Church, and the gorgeous pink rose blossoms were Mary's way of letting them know that she would always be with them. She would always be their Mother.  Subconsciously my grandma associated my Rosary miracle with her own miracle of roses.

I was only 5 when my great-grandmother died. I have memories of her, and I remember crying when my mom told me that she had passed away. I wish I would have known my Catholic great-grandmother who sacrificed so much for the peace and unity of her family. How did she live without the Holy Sacrament, the Eucharist? How did she live without Mary as part of Christian worship? Did she still pray her Rosary? How her heart must have ached. How brave she must have been, how full of faith.

But I am comforted by this thought:  My great-grandma Ruth is a saint in heaven. I can talk to her whenever I want. And how happy she must have been on the day of my daughter's baptism, to see from the celestial view her great-great-grandaughter coming into the Church that she had so loved in her lifetime, the Church she left but never abandoned. And of course she will also be thrilled to see me enter the Church at the Easter vigil next year! In my small way, I can make reparation for her sacrifice.  I can give something precious back to her, and I am humbled to be able to honor her memory in this way.

The Mother of My Lord

When I pray the Hail Mary, I sometimes replace "Mother of God" with the phrase, "Mother of my Lord," which comes directly from the Bible. I have often come across in my Marian studies the assertion that the first part of the Hail Mary is biblical and should not present a problem to Protestants. It is the second part, it is feared, that crosses the line. I have discussed this in more detail in a previous article. Using the title Mother of My Lord accomplishes two things: it sets the second part of the Hail Mary more strongly in biblical tradition, and it reflects the personal nature of my relationship with Mary. I don't have any issue with the theologically valid title "Mother of God," but at times I prefer the more intimate title that Elizabeth gives Mary in the Visitation scene in the Gospel of Luke. Elizabeth exclaims, "Who am I that the mother of my Lord should come to me? Blessed art thou among women, and blessed is the fruit of thy womb!"

I attended a candlelight Christmas Eve service at my grandparents' United Methodist Church, and curiously, the pastor began his scripture readings with the Visitation rather than the Annunciation. His reading brought tears to my eyes. This Christmas Eve service typically consists of bible readings and the singing of hymns, with no actual sermon. The pastor did not comment on the passage. He did not explain its meaning. He just let it stand on its own, leaving us to ponder these mysterious events, allowing the attention given to Mary to shine forth, and he read her entire Magnificat, in which she sings, "My soul magnifies the Lord" and "Every generation shall call me blessed." Mary's song places her in the role of prophetess. Based on the Visitation scene alone, Protestants should have no issue with honoring Mary deeply as "the mother of my Lord." I heard in the pastor's voice that night a tone of reverence as he read this passage.

This experience gave me pause. God's indispensable role for Mary in his plan of salvation was so evident to me, without any explanations, overemphasis, bells, whistles, grandiose poetry or exalted titles that I began to wonder if I could not, indeed, be quite comfortable as a Marian Protestant, rather than feeling that in order to "have" Mary, I would need to convert to Catholicism. It has seemed in my quest to know Mary that in order to experience her spiritual presence in a church setting, it would be mandatory for me to force myself to believe in purgatory, confession to a priest, transubstantiation, worship of the Eucharist, and Mary's perpetual virginity. But when I reflect on how I came to know her, it was to her Rosary Garden that she called me, not to a Catholic mass. It was in her presence in nature that we communed. All I had to do was call to her, and she answered, immediately.

While Mary has mediated between humans and Jesus both in the Bible and in her appearances up to modern times, for me the nature of her intercession is as a spiritual mother, mediating God's maternal love and revealing his feminine face. She has always pointed us to her son. It was through her that God mediated his grace by virtue of making her the mother of his Son. Asking her to pray for us, talking to her in this role of mediation, and enjoying a very personal relationship with and deep devotion to her seems to me entirely Christological.

While I am heartened by recent Protestant attention toward Mary and the reasons we should call her blessed, so far what I have read on the subject lacks acknowledgment of any Protestant possibility of knowing Mary as "The Mother of My Lord" and embracing her as their own mother. Catholic writings, on the other hand, are often so passionate and loving. That's it exactly; they love Mary. They know her intimately. They don't worship her as God, but they understand her through the eyes of love and sonship, rather than honoring her from only a theological/literal/biblical perspective. They don't just venerate Mary because they feel they should, but because it is the most natural response of a child to his mother.

If I ultimately choose membership in a Protestant church, I think I could assert my Marian devotions as both biblical and spiritually essential to my Christian walk, and I think I could teach my child my personal Mariology in a way that should not contradict the church's teachings. Emphasizing that all churches have their own, unique interpretations, and individual Christians have theirs as well, would go a long way toward Christian inclusiveness, love, and respect. Shying away from affirmation of the sacred feminine in the Protestant churches for fear of "Mariolatry" will leave us stuck in a dominantly patriarchal and unsatisfying spirituality that simply doesn't work, even if people do not know precisely what is missing. I have been there, and now I know, and it's thanks to the intercession of Mary, praise be to God.

Conversion

In my article "The Mother of My Lord," I had basically determined to "have" Mary while remaining Protestant, convincing myself that I could practice Marian devotions at home while worshiping in a church that doesn't acknowledge them. Then the very next day that prospect seemed like madness! What happened? I think that by giving myself permission to be devoted to Mary within the Protestant tradition, I opened myself up to a full Catholic conversion. There is more to Catholicism than Mary, but she is integral to understanding the faith and practicing it.

A series of events that day lead me in this new direction. First, I had searched the internet for Eastern Orthodox churches and their beliefs. They "have" Mary too, but I would have to drive over an hour to attend one of their churches. They have Sunday school, but can one really be part of a church home so far away? Still, they don't believe in purgatory, so that seemed promising. But they also don't pray the Rosary, and I just love the Rosary.

Next, I sat down and did some reading from a Catholic For a Reason series book on the Luminous Mysteries of the Rosary. Also, another book came in at the library from this series that day. Truthfully, I have learned more about the Bible through Catholicism than I ever have in Protestant churches. This makes sense, since the Catholic Church is responsible for putting the Bible together in the first place! I began to realize that I would miss being Catholic. Catholics love Mary. Do I really want, in my heart of hearts, to sit in a church that doesn't love Mary as Mother? I do not.

Perhaps the clincher came in the evening, when I heard this on youtube, from onetruefaith.tv:
"The Holy Trinity chose this woman from all eternity, and you think she's just some door into earth... This one beautiful thought alone, that she existed in the heart of God, closer to God than any other creature from all time--that should be so deeply moving that somebody would want to become Catholic immediately just on that thought alone." And my soul sang out, "Yes!"

Even before I heard that, I read something on the internet about the Protestant belief in "total depravity," that humans are entirely lacking in holiness and are in fact inherently evil due to the Fall. Luther described the human soul as a pile of dung that is covered over by snow. In opposition to total depravity is the Catholic doctrine that people are inherently good!  These two things together, the veneration of Mary and the teaching of the essential goodness of humanity, must place me squarely on the Catholic side. Like I stated in my previous article, belief comes first, and then understanding. I learned from my dad not to do things "half-assed" (love this phrase of his!) and to "shit, or get off the pot." My dad is right.

I will not be able to begin my process of Catholic initiation officially until September, but my daughter will start her religious education classes tonight! As it looks now, the path is leading to the Catholic Church, calling me home.