Some time ago, there was an ordination that was not the normal one. Some in the church were very much against it. Some went so far as to condemn it, in writing, to people both within and outside of the church. Most in the officialdom of the church refused to recognize this as a valid ordination, or as valid call to ministry. For years afterward, some powers in the officialdom worked to keep this ministry from being recognized by others, trying to get local and regional ecumenical partners to not grant any kind of recognition to it. Even the letters addressed to those most concerned failed to use the titles or nomenclature of ‘the Reverend’ lest by some backhanded extension someone somewhere would infer a recognition being granted. No jobs in the church were forthcoming. Even attending church was problematic. Few jobs outside the church were available, too, as no recommendation or reference from the officialdom would be given. For this ministry, the status would be ambiguous for a long time. Some jobs, low-paying and outside the usual track, would be found, but certainly, unless and until there was an official recognition, this ministry would be second-class at best, or considered rogue by most. As the celebration continues for the irregular ordination of women in the Episcopal Church some 40 years ago, I reflect that 15 years ago, there was another who had an ordination that had to take place outside the normal channels of the church I called my own. The paragraph above might fit the women’s experience; it also fits my own. But unlike the women, I have no advocate, and no grand overarching cause to be argued on my behalf. Since I am one individual, rather than a group or a cause, I’m easily ignored (and, indeed, have been for the past decade). My situation causes no one else discomfort, and even the theoretical idea that the church is missing my talents doesn’t really ring true. The Baptismal Covenant in the Book of Common Prayers asks this: ‘Will you strive for justice and peace among all people, and respect the dignity of every human being?’ To whom I apply when I am not being respected by the very officialdom meant to support this? Once upon a time I felt I had a call to ministry. I wasn’t sure what it was, and hoped to have help from the church in discerning my vocation. But I was never allowed to ask the question. I want to be clear on this point -- I was never told, ‘You can’t be a priest’ or ‘You can’t be a deacon.’ (Perhaps ironically, I have to thank Bishop Ted Jones, late of Indianapolis, for making this clarification explicit.) I was never given the chance to ask the question, ‘What am I called to do, and to be?’ Nor was I ever given an explanation as to why. In this twenty-first year since I first started asking for help with discernment and this sixteenth year since I was told to leave my parish because I’d opted to start seminary anyway, I still pray that one day my ministry will be recognized by my own church, in some way. What I take from the celebration of women’s ordination in this way is that the church can come around, sometimes, in some ways. I live in hope.
Posted on: Tue, 29 Jul 2014 19:41:25 +0000
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