Tuesday in the Second Week

Isaiah 1:2-4, 16-20; Psalm 50:7-15, 22-24; Matthew 23:1-12

Each time I read this Gospel passage I’m a little stunned that we read it in church services.  In my part of the Episcopal Church, a lot of priests go by “Father.”  Now that we have female priests, the default term for them is “Mother.”  When the Church Pension Fund calls me, they address me as “Mother Phelan.”  It drives me crazy.

You might ask, So what?  What’s the harm?  Doesn’t it help clergy to have titles to set them apart, give them some authority?  After all, that’s how it’s always been - right?

It wasn’t that way at the beginning.  Jesus is quite clear, and through Matthew’s telling of the story he made a point of it.  Calling another disciple “Father” puts that person in the position that should be held by God.  It serves the interests of institution and hierarchy, but it leads to lay people thinking that God doesn’t hear their prayers as well as those of “Father” or “Mother.”  It cripples both clergy and laity, by putting clergy in a persona box and denying the laity their own relation to God on an equal plane.

If you belong to a more Protestant church you may agree with me about “Father,” but you may have other titles: “Pastor” and “Preacher,” or “Reverend” as an address, come to mind.  The result is the same; this is why Matthew says not to call one another ‘Rabbi’ or ‘teacher’ either.  Clergy end up hiding their humanity, and laity hide their spiritual gifts.

It’s curious that this passage is read in Lent, isn’t it?  In this season where we are all called to draw closer to God, we hear the reminder to let go of all the barriers we put between ourselves and that loving Creator that Jesus called “Abba.”  Whether or not you agree with Elizabeth (and me) about the dangers of gendered language for God, the question here is not about gender so much as it is about hierarchy and its problems.

I love the word “Companion.”  I love it partly because it doesn’t have an institutional meaning - yet.  We are creating this identity, and for now it is porous and evolving.  But I know a time will come when it becomes a marker of boundaries, and probably of hierarchy.  When that happens, we will need to do something new again to keep us from locking ourselves in a box.

I’m thrilled to be Sister Shane, but not if it sets me higher than you.  Come, be my sister, my brother.  Let us follow together, and worship God together, and learn from each other the many ways that God manifests among us.  The divine in me salutes the divine in you.  Namaste.