It was Mother’s Day in a small-town church. Everything was as it should be. The children were scrubbed
to a sheen. The women wore corsages. Men who hadn’t been to church for months were in the pews.
The nuns sang special hymns, and the priest had a special homily prepared. Before he could begin,
however, a woman stood up in the middle of the chapel and called out loud and clear, “Why is a man
giving this homily? It’s Mother’s Day. No man should be giving the homily. A woman should.”
The congregation sat stunned and uneasy. The priest cleared his throat to begin again. The woman
stood up one more time. “I have something to read,” she said, and recited a poem about the strength
and gifts of women. They escorted her out of the church, of course, soothing her all the way.
They criticized the woman who cried out in church for women on Mother’s Day, but I remembered
Jesus, too, raging in a temple that spoke of God’s mercy and then wreaked injustice on the poor. They
said she should never have made such “a public spectacle of her protest” in front of her children
because it gave them bad example. But I don’t know. Maybe what the mother did is the best example
they’ll ever get of taking ridicule for the sake of her faith. They said the woman “should never have
embarrassed the priest that way” in public, but maybe, just maybe, the only way the public invisibility
of women will ever come to an end is for everyone else to feel the same kind of embarrassment for
their existence as women do.
They told the story for days, a little nervously, a little shocked. But no one has forgotten the incident.
No one has forgotten the question. After two thousand years of sitting quietly through improper
repression, they were stunned by the impropriety of a woman who risked status, comfort, and criticism
to name it aloud. But I have an idea that no one has forgotten the message or ever will. And who
knows? Maybe, because of it, something new was born that day in that church that will some day,
finally, come to light. It was a small act of personal courage, but it should not be taken lightly.
Without the inner freedom it takes to defy the chains of convention, without the self-esteem it takes
to trust our own truth, we face our worlds unprepared and unaware.
–from There is a Season (Orbis)
to a sheen. The women wore corsages. Men who hadn’t been to church for months were in the pews.
The nuns sang special hymns, and the priest had a special homily prepared. Before he could begin,
however, a woman stood up in the middle of the chapel and called out loud and clear, “Why is a man
giving this homily? It’s Mother’s Day. No man should be giving the homily. A woman should.”
The congregation sat stunned and uneasy. The priest cleared his throat to begin again. The woman
stood up one more time. “I have something to read,” she said, and recited a poem about the strength
and gifts of women. They escorted her out of the church, of course, soothing her all the way.
They criticized the woman who cried out in church for women on Mother’s Day, but I remembered
Jesus, too, raging in a temple that spoke of God’s mercy and then wreaked injustice on the poor. They
said she should never have made such “a public spectacle of her protest” in front of her children
because it gave them bad example. But I don’t know. Maybe what the mother did is the best example
they’ll ever get of taking ridicule for the sake of her faith. They said the woman “should never have
embarrassed the priest that way” in public, but maybe, just maybe, the only way the public invisibility
of women will ever come to an end is for everyone else to feel the same kind of embarrassment for
their existence as women do.
They told the story for days, a little nervously, a little shocked. But no one has forgotten the incident.
No one has forgotten the question. After two thousand years of sitting quietly through improper
repression, they were stunned by the impropriety of a woman who risked status, comfort, and criticism
to name it aloud. But I have an idea that no one has forgotten the message or ever will. And who
knows? Maybe, because of it, something new was born that day in that church that will some day,
finally, come to light. It was a small act of personal courage, but it should not be taken lightly.
Without the inner freedom it takes to defy the chains of convention, without the self-esteem it takes
to trust our own truth, we face our worlds unprepared and unaware.
–from There is a Season (Orbis)
Ridicule for the Sake of Faith
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