“Can God be a girl?” The third grader asked me. Errol was a wonderful artist of eight. Like many of her female classmates, she was thoughtful and liked sitting to draw pictures. She was usually the first one out of the gate eagerly drawing an art response to the story or the question asked in Sunday school class. That day, she sat still looking at her blank piece of paper. I had asked what dinner with God would look like for the second and third grade class. Errol looked worried and twice I had asked her if she was okay. Finally, she asked, with reticence and barely audible, “Can God be a girl?”
“Of course!” I responded.
She was so pleased with my response—eagerly she set out to draw a picture of a wonderful tea party that she’d fix for God: there was fancy china, and a beautiful table cloth and God was a large breasted big girl that sat the table with a little girl eagerly enjoying the tea party supper of the Errol’s imagination. “God is my Mother” she wrote across the bottom of the page.
But not everyone appreciates such an image of God.
“Of course!” I responded.
She was so pleased with my response—eagerly she set out to draw a picture of a wonderful tea party that she’d fix for God: there was fancy china, and a beautiful table cloth and God was a large breasted big girl that sat the table with a little girl eagerly enjoying the tea party supper of the Errol’s imagination. “God is my Mother” she wrote across the bottom of the page.
But not everyone appreciates such an image of God.
My Rector noticed the picture on the bulletin board. He was not comfortable with Errol’s art being on our bulletin board. I had labeled the bulletin board, “How our Children Imagine Supper with God”. He asked me to take down the picture, while he believed deeply in the idea of God who was beyond father or mother, he didn’t want to cause problems in our parish—we had enough to deal with already. Every students’ picture came down before Sunday—I wasn’t about to single out Errol. The disaster of a mothering God was averted for now. He was right—there were many things happening in our parish at the time—God knows there’s no fight better than a church fight-- but of all things, a picture of God as a woman was problematic.
Are we brave enough to expand to God to include all of us? Can God be Creator Father and Mother?
Maybe you’re chuckling or doubtful of such things being an issue—or maybe you’re wholly offended by such an idea as Mothering God. Not too long ago, after my national church, the Episcopal Church in the U.S.A., elected its first woman as Presiding Bishop, all kinds of anxious action and reaction took place—there was definitely heat. There were the conservative corners of the church that don’t ordain women that were deeply disenfranchised. There were horrendous comments about Catherine's “looks” and dress that were passed round chat rooms and church coffee hours. I remember reading an online thread of conversation about how ugly her vestments were and how frumpy she is. I never heard such things about Edmond Browning or Frank Griswold—we never discussed their looks or frumpiness as older men. An evangelical preacher actually had the nerve to say something to the effect of, “A woman Presiding Bishop: what’s next—a fluffy bunny?”
And then came the coup de gras: our Presiding Bishop made reference in a sermon to God our Mother. The whole church seemingly came unhinged overnight. Not only were we now out of step with our Catholic and Orthodox brothers by having women priests and now a woman presiding bishop, what’s worse, she was throwing around untraditional languaged images about God that belonged to Pagans, not to Christians.
How sad for us. My heart grieves that the church has abandoned the rich heritage of Julian and Anselm who called God and Jesus, Mother. The medieval church, which was far less body squeamish and less phobic about metaphors than we often depicted Christ as having breasts on the cross from which the church is nourished.
In the early church, we hear of Holy Wisdom, Hagio Sophia the Holy Spirit that is often talked of in the feminine. Jesus talking of Jerusalem says that he longs to take the holy city to himself like a mother hen with her chicks. So what is our problem? Why can’t God be Father/Mother God? Why must we struggle over something that seems fairly logical—both man and woman are made in the image of God and therefore God is both male and female and neither all at the same time—why is God the Father only in the church and why does so many corners of the church raise such a fuss when God She or Mother God is invoked as an image—can’t we realize that the very religious life and self imaging of our children might depend upon our imaging God bigger?
Again the old adage rings in my ears: praying shapes believing. Believing shapes our living and that living requires confidence faithfulness and reliance.
Maybe you’re chuckling or doubtful of such things being an issue—or maybe you’re wholly offended by such an idea as Mothering God. Not too long ago, after my national church, the Episcopal Church in the U.S.A., elected its first woman as Presiding Bishop, all kinds of anxious action and reaction took place—there was definitely heat. There were the conservative corners of the church that don’t ordain women that were deeply disenfranchised. There were horrendous comments about Catherine's “looks” and dress that were passed round chat rooms and church coffee hours. I remember reading an online thread of conversation about how ugly her vestments were and how frumpy she is. I never heard such things about Edmond Browning or Frank Griswold—we never discussed their looks or frumpiness as older men. An evangelical preacher actually had the nerve to say something to the effect of, “A woman Presiding Bishop: what’s next—a fluffy bunny?”
And then came the coup de gras: our Presiding Bishop made reference in a sermon to God our Mother. The whole church seemingly came unhinged overnight. Not only were we now out of step with our Catholic and Orthodox brothers by having women priests and now a woman presiding bishop, what’s worse, she was throwing around untraditional languaged images about God that belonged to Pagans, not to Christians.
How sad for us. My heart grieves that the church has abandoned the rich heritage of Julian and Anselm who called God and Jesus, Mother. The medieval church, which was far less body squeamish and less phobic about metaphors than we often depicted Christ as having breasts on the cross from which the church is nourished.
In the early church, we hear of Holy Wisdom, Hagio Sophia the Holy Spirit that is often talked of in the feminine. Jesus talking of Jerusalem says that he longs to take the holy city to himself like a mother hen with her chicks. So what is our problem? Why can’t God be Father/Mother God? Why must we struggle over something that seems fairly logical—both man and woman are made in the image of God and therefore God is both male and female and neither all at the same time—why is God the Father only in the church and why does so many corners of the church raise such a fuss when God She or Mother God is invoked as an image—can’t we realize that the very religious life and self imaging of our children might depend upon our imaging God bigger?
Again the old adage rings in my ears: praying shapes believing. Believing shapes our living and that living requires confidence faithfulness and reliance.
