The Lady Be With You – A Closer Look at Liturgical Idolatry by Tallessyn Zawn Grenfell-Lee

Even though I realized at least 17 years ago that it makes no theological sense to limit our symbols of the Divine to male symbols – Lord, God, Father – it took several years for this idea to embed itself into my subconscious. Over time, male language moved from ‘unnoticed’ to ‘noticed’ to ‘distracting’ to, eventually, ‘oppressively violent when used exclusively, without female images to balance out millennia of the idolatry of maleness.’

One of my favorite ways to dislodge this subconscious, internalized patriarchy has involved rewriting favorite old hymns. I usually try to incorporate a combination of images, to represent the incarnate divinity of all genders and all Creation. But let’s be honest: female terms for the Divine remain startling in many religious and secular, cultural contexts. In my own Methodist tradition, even though progressive Methodists sign up on paper to the idea that “God” (there we go again with the male terms) is bigger than any symbol or gender, I’ve as yet only ever been to one Christian church that used balanced gender images of the Divine, and that was a queer welcoming Methodist ministry with intentionally inclusive theology and liturgy.

I think that church saved my life. Some days, I also think it ruined my life. It showed us all what Methodism can be; and then, its time ended, and we alums drifted into the diaspora to try to take the hope and healing we experienced there into our own journeys. Some of us remain within Methodism and continue to work for the vision of welcome, of the kin-dom, that we sought together there. Personally, I love being Methodist. Grace, the journey, grace, the quadrilateral, grace.

Continue reading “The Lady Be With You – A Closer Look at Liturgical Idolatry by Tallessyn Zawn Grenfell-Lee”

Gendered Only In Expression by Chris Ash

“I want you to see this new piece I wrote for our newsletter,” said Sister Ann.

We were safe inside the dining room of the Episcopal convent where she lived and I was an extended guest, and yet she spoke in hushed tones that suggested she realized the controversial nature of what she was about to say.

“This whole piece – it’s about the idea that being ‘born again’ clearly indicates the concept of God as mother.” She laid out her argument about wombs and motherhood and the feminine divine. It was a fairly essentialist argument (being the mid-nineties), but it was the first time I’d heard any modern Christian reference God as anything other than father, son, male. Before finding the Episcopal cathedral where I regularly attended services, I’d had two general experiences of the divine: the evangelical, conservative, patriarchal God of my father’s church, and the gender-creative spirit found in practices that were fairly alternative for my small, South Carolina town. Continue reading “Gendered Only In Expression by Chris Ash”

When a Methodist Turns Baptist by Katey Zeh

simon-launay-236262

Nearly a year ago, almost to the day, I entered the sanctuary of an historic church in downtown Raleigh for the first time. Visiting a new faith community is nearly always at least a slightly uncomfortable social experience. In my case I’d grown quite accustomed to feeling like an outsider in these spaces as a significant portion of my work included traveling to congregations around the country. This particular Sunday, however, had me a more on edge than usual.

The church, as it turns out, was Baptist. I was Methodist. Sitting down in a Baptist Church for worship felt something akin to rooting for a rival sports team. It was simply not done.

I recall on several occasion the pastor of my hometown Methodist church, a soft-spoken and generally mild mannered man, would poke fun at Baptist preachers from the pulpit. If a worship service ran long as it often did on the Sundays we celebrated communion, my mother and I would half-jokingly lament that our favorite lunch spot would be filled with Baptists by the time we got there. One could argue it was all in good fun like any hometown rivalry. But even well-meaning jokes, if they are repeated enough, have a poisoning effect over time.

As I fidgeted in the pew that first Sunday waiting for the service to begin, a woman sporting black cat-eye glasses and fiery red lipstick leaned across the pew to greet my husband and me. “Is this your first time at Pullen?” she asked. I nodded my head and confessed quietly that I was struggling a bit with being in a Baptist church. “I’m Methodist,” I whispered to her. Without skipping a beat, she responded with a hint of a smile, “Well honey, I’m Jewish.”

Needless to say this Baptist Church was unlike the ones we’d joked about in my small town Georgia church. Pullen Memorial Baptist Church has been on the forefront of social justice movement for decades, much to the chagrin of certain other Baptist-identifying bodies. From affirming women and the LGBTQ community to standing against racism and Islamophobia, Pullen is committed to the work of dismantling oppressive systems.

Prior to my first Sunday at Pullen I’d tried desperately to find community in several local Methodist churches, but I could not in good conscience align myself with their theological values. Pullen, on the other hand, affirmed my spiritual sensibilities and challenged me to examine them critically. In the end I had to make a decision: what was more important to me, the ministry of the congregation or its label (and the stereotypes that came with it)? As you might guess, the choice was easy.

Last month my husband and I along with our two-year-old daughter stood before the congregation and pledged our commitment as official members of Pullen Memorial Baptist Church. Some have asked me if leaving the Methodist faith was terribly painful for me. In truth this decision felt very little like a departure at all; rather it felt grounded in the deep joy and affirmation of having found a community to make my spiritual home. No change is without some sense of loss, but what I mostly feel is an overwhelming sense of joy.

Joining a Baptist congregation has opened my heart to the possibility of unexpected becoming. We are never as sure of things as we might like to believe. I’m grateful for that.

RA82Katey Zeh, M.Div is a strategist, writer,  and educator who inspires communities to create a more just, compassionate world.  She has written for outlets including Huffington Post, Sojourners, Religion Dispatches, Response magazine, the Good Mother Project, the Journal for Feminist Studies in Religion, and the United Methodist News Service. Her book Women Rise Up will be published by the FAR Press in March of 2018.  Find her on Twitter at @kateyzeh or on her website kateyzeh.com