Mother God and Me
God's existence, a truth I hesitantly believe and vigorously doubt and seek through prayer and rage against and hold as sheltering hope, is a mystery. But for my entire childhood, there was THIS certainty about God: HE was a HE. Divine was male. That was not a mystery.
During a religious convo with friends about a year ago, David said something that I hadn't considered before. Obviously, I'm still thinking about it. He said, "During 'Bible times' there was no way Jesus could have embodied feminine form." Women were inferior, treated as property. To gain real influence as a well-renowned prophet or teacher, one HAD to be male. Thus, Jesus was male. Not because He couldn't have been female, but because the built-in respect, acknowledgement, and access He needed as a Divine messenger born during those times required that particular gender assignment. The crap He (as a HE) got for being born out of wedlock (gasp!) in the garbage town of Bethlehem no less, with a carpenter for a father and crazy John the Baptist as a cousin, would have completely disqualified a young woman from the position or opportunity to hand the Pharisees their tails on a platter once (let alone over and over again like JC did) without being jailed or stoned or married off right away.
History shows that the industry of scribes -and the trade of translation itself- skews predominately male. Combine this with the patriarchal bent of most religious institutions, and fixation on male deity becomes less surprising. In conservative circles we're taught that a supernatural being is far above the confines of personhood, of humanity in general, however IF said Deity gets a pronoun (in Scripture or otherwise) it is "He." Though "He" (a.k.a: A human designation) can admittedly provide no more clarification to a supernatural entity than "She" can, one of these pronouns remains supreme in classifying God. And yes, JC refers to God as a Father. Providing a familial structure as a frame of reference for human minds. Why then the hesitation over acknowledging Divine feminine traits in scripture as being the result of a -correspondingly- Mother God? This discord bears investigation at least. Because the white-washed version of the Bible many of us learned in Sunday School needs a serious overhaul. The passive flannelboard Jesus of MY youth, that delicately featured, pale Victorian character with perfect hair and an unblemished flowing robe DOES NOT exactly stack up to the table-turning, tradition-snubbing, middle-eastern Jesus of reality. Perhaps too the HE-God could handle some scrutiny.
The power structure of religion has been used to dominate and control others for centuries. It's been used to justify the enslavement of peoples, to crusade and kill, to stifle scientific discovery, and to elevate the enlightened elect, the called few, the elite chosen. Jesus came to die and bury this narrow-minded, exclusive, works-dictated means of access to God with His resurrection. In an impassioned speech (found in Matthew 23), Jesus proclaims liberation for everyone (Read: Commoners) from these systems and mindsets- which blinded, burdened, and bound folks with unattainable requirements. Spiritual leaders of the day taught people to believe that religious red tape was evidence of their connection WITH God, but -in reality- these practices impeded that sacred relationship by firmly adhering supplicants to the rituals of men, further facilitating the leaders' self serving ways. Jesus longs for the peoples' awakening (verse 37) with these words, "Jerusalem, Jerusalem, who kills the prophets and stones those who are sent to her! How often I wanted to gather your children together, the way a hen gathers her chicks under her wings, and you were unwilling." In this rally cry sermon -where Jesus subverts established authorities and proclaims hope for an unknowingly oppressed people- He chooses a powerful image to portray this desire to love, protect, and guide: A mother. Not a triumphant king, not a conquering commander. A mama hen hugging her babies close. A strong maternal manifestation of Divine affection for all humans.
PS I don't think this has to be an "All or Nothing" memorandum concerning gender and God. Personally, I connect deeply with the Father aspects of God because I have a wonderful father. (Please see entire blog post dedicated to THAT SUBJECT here.) But only recently have I fully engaged with the idea of "Mother God" being an equally appropriate (or -in some cases- MORE appropriate) designation as the paternal phrasing. And, honestly, the verse that speaks to this most is from the very first chapter of the very first book in the Bible, Genesis 1:27, "God created humankind in his own image, in the image of God he created them, male and female he created them." If everything about God could have been encompassed in a single type of person, there would only be one type of person. But that certainly isn't the case. Trying to contain the majestic complexity and paradox of the Divine requires LOTS of diverse image bearers. Females being one of many significant groups created for this purpose. This isn't a throw away sermon topic to be trotted out for show on Mother's Day; these unique feminine attributes and qualities and intricacies were SO ESSENTIAL to God that SHE created a gender to evidence them to the world. Creator God made a gender that could -quite literally- hold the creation of life within themselves. Talk about an image bearer!
"I've told several friends that Margot's passing has left me unmoored, as it has evoked serious inquiries into purpose, faith, and life. I've specifically used the illustration of a row boat tied to a dock. I am the boat and my ties to the dock have been snipped. Everything I once held as foundationally true is subject to question. I'm afloat."
One of the first things my friend (or the Holy Spirit or the essential oil fumes) spoke to me during our session was, "I sense a swaying in your energy, a back and forth movement." Which, in light of the excerpt above, made total sense to me: A self-defined castoff, abandoned like a ship out at sea. But quickly, before my scattered thoughts about this could surface, she followed up with, "Laura, you are being rocked by God." Even though I truly despised God in that moment; though I'm a feminist and skeptic through and through; though I have healthy spiritual/secular/personal connections with masculinity; it was clear -in that sacred space- I was just a fragile girl on Mama God's lap. Held close, accepted, loved. Experiencing that image of a mother in such a traditional role didn't necessarily align with the prescribed framework I use to describe myself OR have been taught to use to describe God, but it imprinted deeply that day. S(He) was with me, whether I wanted Her or not.
Since Margot, the spiritual journey to relearn faith has been surprising. Unexpected. A little woo-woo hippie at times. However I never walked it alone; David has been here every step. Clearly you get the Laura show on the blog, but please don't assume he isn't as fiery and passionate about these topics. More so, to be honest. He's smart, interested in LEARNING (ew!) FROM history in order to inform and reform current policies. A triple-threat kind of gentleman, my husband. When George Floyd was murdered, I -like many others previously anesthetized by the cancer of disregard- AWOKE needing to seek, listen to, engage with, and discover the long-neglected truth of people of color in this country. Then I had to breathe, wake up again, and continue the intense "new student" work Each.Following.Day. Though most of this knowledge wasn't news to David, considering his longstanding investment into these issues, he grieved over it anew WITH me. My despair and feels were consuming. So he got us surprise (to me) tee-shirts, because that's a better coping mechanism than doing what we *actually* want to do to cope. Mine: Black Lives Matter. His: Women's Empowerment. What a servant- Lifting me up during my stumbling attempts to reconcile the irreconcilable. This gesture reminded me about a sweet detail from our wedding day. Before I walked down the aisle, our friend Shae sang "I Am" by Jill Phillips. (Full song below.) As a music aficionado, David had introduced me to this song earlier and I immediately fell in love with the lyrics. Lyrics describing a burdened child resting on Mother God's lap. An unforeseen picture of my future self, burdened with trying to reconcile the irreconcilable: Our daughter's death. Pervasive, systematic racism. Another stalled adoption. Yet, experience has now taught that hurting girl to look a little deeper. A massage might really be a message, a strong husband can have a humble heart, a song can be a prophesy. So maybe, just maybe -instead of being a ship abandoned to a sea of fate and trauma- I am actually being held. Rocked. Fully seen, known, and loved.
During a religious convo with friends about a year ago, David said something that I hadn't considered before. Obviously, I'm still thinking about it. He said, "During 'Bible times' there was no way Jesus could have embodied feminine form." Women were inferior, treated as property. To gain real influence as a well-renowned prophet or teacher, one HAD to be male. Thus, Jesus was male. Not because He couldn't have been female, but because the built-in respect, acknowledgement, and access He needed as a Divine messenger born during those times required that particular gender assignment. The crap He (as a HE) got for being born out of wedlock (gasp!) in the garbage town of Bethlehem no less, with a carpenter for a father and crazy John the Baptist as a cousin, would have completely disqualified a young woman from the position or opportunity to hand the Pharisees their tails on a platter once (let alone over and over again like JC did) without being jailed or stoned or married off right away.
History shows that the industry of scribes -and the trade of translation itself- skews predominately male. Combine this with the patriarchal bent of most religious institutions, and fixation on male deity becomes less surprising. In conservative circles we're taught that a supernatural being is far above the confines of personhood, of humanity in general, however IF said Deity gets a pronoun (in Scripture or otherwise) it is "He." Though "He" (a.k.a: A human designation) can admittedly provide no more clarification to a supernatural entity than "She" can, one of these pronouns remains supreme in classifying God. And yes, JC refers to God as a Father. Providing a familial structure as a frame of reference for human minds. Why then the hesitation over acknowledging Divine feminine traits in scripture as being the result of a -correspondingly- Mother God? This discord bears investigation at least. Because the white-washed version of the Bible many of us learned in Sunday School needs a serious overhaul. The passive flannelboard Jesus of MY youth, that delicately featured, pale Victorian character with perfect hair and an unblemished flowing robe DOES NOT exactly stack up to the table-turning, tradition-snubbing, middle-eastern Jesus of reality. Perhaps too the HE-God could handle some scrutiny.
The power structure of religion has been used to dominate and control others for centuries. It's been used to justify the enslavement of peoples, to crusade and kill, to stifle scientific discovery, and to elevate the enlightened elect, the called few, the elite chosen. Jesus came to die and bury this narrow-minded, exclusive, works-dictated means of access to God with His resurrection. In an impassioned speech (found in Matthew 23), Jesus proclaims liberation for everyone (Read: Commoners) from these systems and mindsets- which blinded, burdened, and bound folks with unattainable requirements. Spiritual leaders of the day taught people to believe that religious red tape was evidence of their connection WITH God, but -in reality- these practices impeded that sacred relationship by firmly adhering supplicants to the rituals of men, further facilitating the leaders' self serving ways. Jesus longs for the peoples' awakening (verse 37) with these words, "Jerusalem, Jerusalem, who kills the prophets and stones those who are sent to her! How often I wanted to gather your children together, the way a hen gathers her chicks under her wings, and you were unwilling." In this rally cry sermon -where Jesus subverts established authorities and proclaims hope for an unknowingly oppressed people- He chooses a powerful image to portray this desire to love, protect, and guide: A mother. Not a triumphant king, not a conquering commander. A mama hen hugging her babies close. A strong maternal manifestation of Divine affection for all humans.
PS I don't think this has to be an "All or Nothing" memorandum concerning gender and God. Personally, I connect deeply with the Father aspects of God because I have a wonderful father. (Please see entire blog post dedicated to THAT SUBJECT here.) But only recently have I fully engaged with the idea of "Mother God" being an equally appropriate (or -in some cases- MORE appropriate) designation as the paternal phrasing. And, honestly, the verse that speaks to this most is from the very first chapter of the very first book in the Bible, Genesis 1:27, "God created humankind in his own image, in the image of God he created them, male and female he created them." If everything about God could have been encompassed in a single type of person, there would only be one type of person. But that certainly isn't the case. Trying to contain the majestic complexity and paradox of the Divine requires LOTS of diverse image bearers. Females being one of many significant groups created for this purpose. This isn't a throw away sermon topic to be trotted out for show on Mother's Day; these unique feminine attributes and qualities and intricacies were SO ESSENTIAL to God that SHE created a gender to evidence them to the world. Creator God made a gender that could -quite literally- hold the creation of life within themselves. Talk about an image bearer!
You may remember that one time I had an encounter with the Holy Spirit in a massage parlor. (Yes, I'm aware that sounds like the beginning of a bad joke.) I won't bore you with details, but the girl -the friend- working out my kinks that day has a very particular gift for prayer. Which was good since the appointment happened a month after Margot died and I entered the waiting room mad, sad, and broken as hell. But when she led me back to her quiet workspace -as my sister Nicole likes to say- the atmosphere of the room shifted. Changed. God was close; my reverent friend tuned in, listened, and then shared some incredibly relevant insight during our session. (Which was admittedly weird for me, being a product of a Brethren church. I get supes uncomfortable. If someone had said something similar in a different setting, I probably would've quietly tiptoed backwards out of the room.) Though after the appointment, I typed everything as quickly as possible so I wouldn't forget the experience. Here is a portion of that writing:
"I've told several friends that Margot's passing has left me unmoored, as it has evoked serious inquiries into purpose, faith, and life. I've specifically used the illustration of a row boat tied to a dock. I am the boat and my ties to the dock have been snipped. Everything I once held as foundationally true is subject to question. I'm afloat."
One of the first things my friend (or the Holy Spirit or the essential oil fumes) spoke to me during our session was, "I sense a swaying in your energy, a back and forth movement." Which, in light of the excerpt above, made total sense to me: A self-defined castoff, abandoned like a ship out at sea. But quickly, before my scattered thoughts about this could surface, she followed up with, "Laura, you are being rocked by God." Even though I truly despised God in that moment; though I'm a feminist and skeptic through and through; though I have healthy spiritual/secular/personal connections with masculinity; it was clear -in that sacred space- I was just a fragile girl on Mama God's lap. Held close, accepted, loved. Experiencing that image of a mother in such a traditional role didn't necessarily align with the prescribed framework I use to describe myself OR have been taught to use to describe God, but it imprinted deeply that day. S(He) was with me, whether I wanted Her or not.
Since Margot, the spiritual journey to relearn faith has been surprising. Unexpected. A little woo-woo hippie at times. However I never walked it alone; David has been here every step. Clearly you get the Laura show on the blog, but please don't assume he isn't as fiery and passionate about these topics. More so, to be honest. He's smart, interested in LEARNING (ew!) FROM history in order to inform and reform current policies. A triple-threat kind of gentleman, my husband. When George Floyd was murdered, I -like many others previously anesthetized by the cancer of disregard- AWOKE needing to seek, listen to, engage with, and discover the long-neglected truth of people of color in this country. Then I had to breathe, wake up again, and continue the intense "new student" work Each.Following.Day. Though most of this knowledge wasn't news to David, considering his longstanding investment into these issues, he grieved over it anew WITH me. My despair and feels were consuming. So he got us surprise (to me) tee-shirts, because that's a better coping mechanism than doing what we *actually* want to do to cope. Mine: Black Lives Matter. His: Women's Empowerment. What a servant- Lifting me up during my stumbling attempts to reconcile the irreconcilable. This gesture reminded me about a sweet detail from our wedding day. Before I walked down the aisle, our friend Shae sang "I Am" by Jill Phillips. (Full song below.) As a music aficionado, David had introduced me to this song earlier and I immediately fell in love with the lyrics. Lyrics describing a burdened child resting on Mother God's lap. An unforeseen picture of my future self, burdened with trying to reconcile the irreconcilable: Our daughter's death. Pervasive, systematic racism. Another stalled adoption. Yet, experience has now taught that hurting girl to look a little deeper. A massage might really be a message, a strong husband can have a humble heart, a song can be a prophesy. So maybe, just maybe -instead of being a ship abandoned to a sea of fate and trauma- I am actually being held. Rocked. Fully seen, known, and loved.
Love the picture of how only make and female together help to encompass the Image of God. How incredible to bring together all those different parts of your life to show God cradling you. Love that you and David have each other.
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