Proving Jesus’ Necessary Maleness and Sacramentality of Human Life
And
Connecting a Disembodied Womanhood with Christ-like Living

“Christianity is a religion neither for angels nor for disembodied persons. It is a religion for males and for females, for embodied persons, for creatures of body and spirit, for waist-expanding and graying (or balding) seekers after truth and love and God, such as we.”

Michael Novak introduces the concreteness of God’s relationship with man in the form which is often construed into a religious system known as Christianity (for all intent and purposes of organization). In attempts to work with the Spirit of God residing and moving incomprehensibly within us, it can be tempting to take up a striving which fails, for human striving always drives a wedge between spirit and person.

“For it is not against human enemies that we have to struggle, but against the principalities and the ruling forces who are masters of the darkness in this world, the spirits of evil in the heavens. That is why you must take up all God’s armour, or you will not be able to put up any resistance on the evil day, or stand your ground even though you exert yourselves to the full.” (Eph. 6.12-13)

How impossible it seems to do anything through this Spirit, because everything feels so spiritual in Christianity, we think, so otherworldly focused, so desirous to shuffle off this mortal coil and be united with Jesus Christ our Lord, who will bring us before the Father and present us to Him gloriously as His Bride, whom He made one with Himself through the sharing of His body and blood… as the Father who bore us imparted His design and a form to us from the womb of Earth gave us His image, the Son completes our union with Him with a resurrection that reunites spirit and body. Thus we cannot be so eager to get rid of the bodies we are in now. Something within us rejects the sacramental nature of life—we seek to save souls, Novak points out, but how in doing so can we allow bodies to be destroyed? It is eternal life Christ has given us, and it will carry into eternity with body and spirit in joyful union with Jesus for those who believe. However, it is very tempting to try and remove oneself from these bodies while still present in them. This, Novak says, is:

the underlying form of the disease, among humans, has sometimes been called “angelism” by theologians, and “gnosticism” by historians. The essence of angelism is to shuck off from one’s self-understanding the reality of embodiment in the flesh, so as to imagine oneself a pure spirit, neither male nor female, without carnal appendages, desires, or limitations.

I find it very tempting the idea of a “realm of the disembodied person of raised consciousness and unresisted will.” In exploring the human nature, this substance/matter of bodies and the existential reality we cannot seem to divorce from, according to the psalmists, without losing perception of God. For me, who lived many years in the realm of thoughts only, and still tends towards an actualization of mind over body in heavy emphasis of thought reality, disembodiedness is sometimes more reality than perhaps it should be. St. James suggests there is no faith without action… meaning all the belief I could potentially contain has not matter in which to invest its form without some flesh behind it. That is why I am captivated with Novak’s discussion of humanity in his discourse on the priesthood of women… because I find claims such as “For human beings, of course, angelism is a realm only of pretense and self-delusion.”

Of course, as if such opposing belief were really possible. Such is not my experience. Perhaps I am disconnected in some unnatural way, and so sacramental theology appeals because it attempts to make sense of what I do not naturally know. Hearing Christianity called “a religion of the flesh” captivates me. In my attempts to understand life, I have often been confused about what I am, who I am, what is appropriate because of the female nature I have, how that nature reflects Jesus Himself… what inhibits me from what I consider “full” imaging of Jesus in the priesthood/ministerial position, and how I am more than a mere soul encased in temporal flesh.

That was my intent in reading “Women, Ordination, and Angels” addressing the issue of women in the priesthood by Michael Novak, examining his theological defense of male-only priesthood. Novak appeals to natural law, which I have little experience with other than biblical order which is unexplained and merely presented in scripture. Having tried some wilder theological feminism, playing with the gender of God, relationships with Jesus, and what exactly Jesus thought of my kind, womanhood, being male, although God has no gender (though He chooses to give Himself to us as male for sake of self-revelation, Novak says, and also, I think to show us who we are). My natural curiosity tends to rebel against set orders… I want the boy jobs to do, and even if they are a bit hard for me, I will throw myself rather passionately into them to prove myself just as capable as a man. I seek intellectual engagement with men and comradery/friendship on the same levels they achieve such interaction. Yet, in contradiction, I do not trust other women who have achieved the position I seem to be pushing towards. My quest is to understand the apparent paradoxes that lie before me: understand my own conflicted desires to be like men, but not be male, and to be like Jesus and have deep intimate relationship with Him, though I cannot walk exactly like Him. No priesthood for me, though undoubtedly if I were just like I am now and male, I would pursue the priesthood with everything in me.

My own thoughts and beliefs on women in ministry as ordained are very personal and conflicted in part because of the cross-fire of opinions and encouragements I have received: that I would make an excellent pastor, but then alternatively, when I offer a sermon discouraged from using a gift to study in the pulpit. I took a poll at school one day, how many people said something to me about the pastorate… quite a lot. To those who did, my nature presented itself as shy and hesitant to even consider such a weighty office for fear of “accidentally dropping Jesus,” as it were, breaking some truth in communication. To those who discouraged me, conversely, I rebelled, determining to preach an immaculate sermon or develop myself to be just as able as a man. I am a rebel and I am afraid. But perhaps the question is not of ability, but a woman like me is never content to merely obey… my soul is a fountain of questions. I am seeking the rule, I suppose by which to determine the validity of answers given to my questions, since they come in as large a variety as there are snowflakes in the winter—each different and particular.

Thus, I consider Novak’s thoughts when addressing the theology of women in the priesthood, taking his words as addressed solely to me in conversation.

The argument for women priests is clear, logical, well-stated, and in accord with at least certain contemporary Western sensibilities, whereas the argument for reserving the priesthood to males is still shrouded in tradition, accepted habits of thought, and instinct.

Indeed, I myself have said I would never go to a female priest or minister for counsel out of distrust; I have seem some of the natural differences between genders, and something to me appeals about having a male in such a role rather than a female. But feeling never seems just enough reason to formulate a position. Perhaps my culture has conditioned some of my skepticism and unsatisfiedness, but I cannot stop at natural law thinking, which delineates “natural differences between males and females (“natural” both in the biological-neurological and in the cultural-symbolic dimension) offered sufficient reason for accepting a differentiation of functions and roles.” Perhaps that is because I have not learned sufficient grounding for natural law; is seems a position which one reaches after much deep study. I can notice physiological differences between males and females, but sameness is so celebrated amongst today’s culture, that such differences hardly constitute much validity for prohibiting a woman from any occupation anymore. That must reveal my vein of feminism, trying to be as masculine as possible in my own physical strength and womanhood; almost as if I am trying to suspend nature.

In such culture and thought state as I find myself, a vacillating and reluctant rebel, the appearance of natural rights, in which “equal right inhere in all persons qua persons,” exclusion seems unjust. But I learned a long time ago, there is more to life than appearance—or I wouldn’t believe in God. There is the rock of tradition on which the Church operates, struggling to retain and maintain relevancy to the unchanging image of God amidst constant change. I thought about the word tradition for a moment, which of course is handed over as answer to far too many things, but I think tradition as explanation is more than a mere way of doing things that has always been done that certain way; it is more than a habit, but a continuation of truth, renewing the truth every morning and reinstating it as central to life (far more than mere repetition). I am reminded of the Rabbinic tradition of torah which is that of precedence, but continues the life and relevancy of torah by continual writings and additions to tradition—oldest writing having the greatest weight on what is done or practiced. Christianity is carrying this on too, by church councils, encyclicals, conversation, commentaries, and theological exploration in journals and experience.

But as I read about some need to remain relevant in language at least which transmits truth, how does one discern whether adaptation/change is manufactured or natural? I found myself struggling again with canonicity… that core concept in theology upon which most of my faith is built: do I accept scripture because it is tradition? Does its very nature and existence as tradition convince me? I am looking for a word or revelation from God, I guess, to clarify, but He is not so obvious in the dimness of the mirror I look into. Novak redirect my thought process by inserting his two cents, “God does continue to lead and to guide His Church by the path of theological debate, reflection, and intellectual inquiry.” One cannot become too wrapped in fundamentals with such a question of the valid sacrament of womanhood, maleness, and their relationships to the sacrament of the priesthood. Since Novak points out Chesterton’s  “’Tradition is the democracy of the dead,”’ I continue forward, letting the Word speak for itself—if it has lasted this long, it will continue to, and I just need to understand it.

Novak is very clear to point out female possibility within Christendom, that God has always used women and not left them out of official roles:

Women have been great preachers of the Word; doctors of the Church; ministers to the poor, the sick, and the needy; high ecclesial authorities such as abbesses, foundresses, and leaders of worldwide institutions; and exemplars of a Christlike way of life. In them, Christ has lived and moved and had his being. If the question is, “Can women be exemplary and saintly ministers of the Gospel?” the answer is unambiguously yes.

Reading his words, I saw all these offices and places women have held as our living out of the priesthood of all believers—allowing me to see us in those roles as mediatrixes of His grace. The discontent in me seeking for placation does not want to think of just seeing women barefoot and pregnant in the kitchen—I am trying to redeem my own belief in the salvation of women and the sanctity of child-bearing. Perhaps I have bought too much into the gender-suspension of Gnosticism and tried, as the Gospel of Thomas directed, that women become like men to achieve salvation. I want to believe that there is more, that my kind is not inferior, that we women are whole, and beautiful, and complete and perfectly able in Jesus to carry the office He has given us, whatever it may be to each of us individually, and that those are just as holy as any office as a man might bear. I wonder at the impediment of gender in being like Jesus, but of course, the faith teaches we are all made in His image: “God created man in His own image; in the image of God He created him, male and female He created them…” (Gen 1.7).

Who will answer the crying of my heart to be found and to chase the shadows out of my own head as to my womanhood? I guess I am crying to Jesus, because I don’t know what other presence could be so absent, nor Who else could fill such a vacancy in belief. But reading Novak, I believe I am caught up in an entirely Western phenomenon… “since many contemporary peoples outside the advanced Western societies have in fact expressed serious cultural reasons for resisting such change…” (of adding women to ministerial  roles such as the priesthood). Novak confesses that the Church could create an easier compromise socially by pleading a need for universalism in decree rather than arguing theologically against women priests. Yet, Novak presses deeper beyond social stability to the heart of reasoning against a priestly ordination for women, despite all the feminism that creeps insides the gate of the church and wails such things as, “for example, that the entire tradition of Christianity is patriarchal, and needs to be reformulated.”  While God discloses Himself in male language, this is necessary in light of the perceptions which are so counter-human found within the maleness of God:

There are profound “feminizing” tendencies in Christianity, he reminds us, so efficacious that in some cultures males are driven away from participation. The counterbalance to these feminizing tendencies is, Ong argues, a robust masculine symbolism at certain crucial points.

When it comes to linguistic terms, I do not struggle with other women over the masculine nature, I am, perhaps, too accepting of the masculinity. I have (tangenting for a moment) considered the nature differences between the genders, and experientially decided that while women can be extremely aggressive, we can be as extremely, opposingly passive too…and perhaps that is why we are so easily trodden underfoot, and our passion so easily manipulated it.

Noticing that Christianity seems to have some sort of “feminizing effect,” one might wonder if women were not better suited to administer such—but Novak says that is really quite opposite—though one might suppose a woman to have all the merits of gentleness needed to bring a great peace to the world. I loved hearing the true paradox of God voiced through Novak’s understanding of how our God Yhwh chooses the weak and foolish to make Himself glorious: “There is no evidence that in His dealings with humans God acts by an egalitarian principle.”  Perhaps I have all the merit and ability in skill, maybe even choice in today’s culture to take on some denominational robbing of priesthood. But should I, even if I am able? How would I discern enough of the mysterious will of God in this subject to know whether He determined women for priesthood or just men?

Novak points out that Scriptural language “is quite pronounced in its selection of masculine forms for God. This suggests that God’s self- revelation in history has been deliberate and remains significant.” The feministic instincts of rebellion in me rise up for war at that… are we going to explain away all mysteries like this? I was reminded of the crowd after Jesus’ bread of life dialog in John 6 crying out “this is intolerable language!” My heart might try that too… but I am choosing to believe that there is something more than surface inequality at steak here. If God loves me and does things for my best, if He is Creator and has orchestrated time itself, there is a purpose in His choice of disclosing gender for Himself… perhaps that has implications for my finding of my own gender and place in this world. Jesus was indeed a shocking man, and he “never shrank from shocking the conventional wisdom, priestly classes, customs, traditions, or even common sense of His time.” Male priesthood is shocking for today; how does that fit into God’s order for natural law and help me determine how to live as a woman imaging Jesus?

My world won’t accept that inability of women as credible from a loving God who looks on us equally with love. Yet Novak ponders:

If the Catholic Church abandons its tradition because of social pressure, and without sound theological reasons, why should it be credible at all? Would it not then simply show itself to be yet another human institution subject to human power and passively conforming to the spirit of the age?

Indeed, what is the truth, which would be denied by women being ordained as priests? What inequality is there in us, men and women? It cannot be something removed from gender, since my spirit, I think is fashioned female… different than male for purpose and complement… though I continue to struggle with desire for sameness, which I realize is different from unity. Novak pictures the maleness of the ordained priesthood, “In Catholic worship, the priest stands as a representative of Jesus Christ, head of the community and bridegroom of His bride, the Church.” This has become tradition, now how does it maintain validity in my life, for have I not too, been “marked—chosen, gifted, indelibly altered—by God” (which Novak points out as distinctions of priesthood), ushered into the household of God and ordained with the priesthood of all believers, a co-inheritor with all men in the inheritance of our Jesus? So how is my priesthood different from those ordained?

Gender, the maleness of the priesthood, Novak presents as consistent with “the metaphors of gender through which, predominantly, God has chosen to reveal Himself both in the Scriptures and in the long tradition of theological reflection.” Crucialness for the gender-depiction of God is defended by God’s generational qualities of Father and Son within the Trinity, the coming of our Lord to earth (more mind-boggling mystery for a female God to be impregnated by male human than the occurrence of the Marian immaculate conception), as well as the necessarity of God taking on a gender in order to become a human. Maybe “Daughter of God” would have worked for Jesus, but there seems too much peril and ease in that. If female, there are vulnerabilities and threats Jesus could have suffered… on an open road, the risk of rape and subsequent impregnation seems confounded in the person of God—and the ease of woman personhood would have defied the radicalness of Jesus’ message:

The long vulnerability of woman in pregnancy and childbearing, as well as a neurological difference in hormonal aggression, would have made such a claim seem but ordinary, self-serving, and typical of women. Thus, such a Messiah would not have launched any “transvaluation of values.” Such a Messiah would have demanded, in effect, that in order to become Christians, males had to become like females. By contrast, it was, and is, far more startling for a male Messiah to challenge the warrior-male and to insinuate such ideas as gentleness, compassion, and peace into the cultural patrimony of males.

Having theologically established some rationale as to Jesus’ male personhood, Novak turns to the sacramental nature of all persons and life itself.

Christianity, Novak point out to silence further feminist complaints within my soul, has been in the long and tedious business of restoring female dignity. While some seem to find Jesus too impossible to accept as too “effeminate” or “emasculating,”  it is impossible to deny the different perspective to ideal mach-maleness that Jesus introduced with His gentle qualities. Jesus embodied the womb-love of the Father for all of us, and sets a standard for both male and female behavior. I guess there must be a difference in the abilities to be like Him, because we are assigned gender, something which must stretch beyond the bounds of physicality. Sometimes I have wondered how our gender will continue after death… furthered by verses like Mark 12.25, “For when they rise from the dead, men and women do not marry; no, they are like the angels in heaven.” Novak quotes James Madison, saying “if men were angels no government would be necessary;” but also, Novak adds, “If men were angels, priests would not need to be (even could not be) males.”

I think I have wanted to live life as an angel rather than a woman. I am caught in the current Novak rebukes with; “The cultural significance of sexual differentiation is vastly deeper than our present generation of feminists has yet to imagine.” I feel this is an agreement with me in a need for difference rather than sameness in order to achieve unity, which I think is the Christian goal—unity of us, the body of Jesus, for unity with Jesus Himself. Since culture is still insisting on sameness as a way of life, there seems to be passivity and frustration produced in males (again, I speak experientially and observationally) under the pressure of feminism. There is so much ego caught up in feminism… if not from turning inward out of ignorant fear, then out of stubborn pride which produces distrust and even greater fear. I don’t want to be drowned in the genderless wave of extreme feminism, because I want to love Jesus with my life—and my vocation is how I speak Him with my life… whatever it ends up being.

So how am I what I am told I am, equally valued and positioned with men before my God, if there is difference in position? Novak answers,

The Christian ideal of equality before God not only did not erase sexual differentiation, but, on the contrary, rested upon that reality as its foundation. Before God, there is neither male nor female, yet male and female for His inscrutable and unchangeable purposes He made them.

He brings the discussion down to the issue of marriage as a sacramental picture of gender unity with God. I wondered when reading this portion if Jesus would rather not have me marry Him on my own, or if He was satisfied with my solitary relationship with Him. Novak urges us not to forget gender, forget self and be consumed with pride while realizing that we are not separated by such before God. Such is the angelism I opened with, a great temptation for me, almost natural for me to try and step into. I have to discern whether that is just my nature or whether, with Yhwh’s lamp of my spirit searching out my deepest self, this is truly a selfish endeavor. It made me think, I am always trying to get more of Heaven onto earth, which I really think of as just clearing away the mists, because when all is recreated, won’t Heaven just be here anyways? And who will be there? Two dear friends advised me not to make calls on that, both out of the Catholic faith; not to tell someone they are headed for hell because I cannot know their hearts, and it will turn them in some sense from Jesus as unloveable. I was told instead that I should share God’s requirements for that sort of unity with Him and all His people… the one way through Jesus, and do not guarantee without. I am unstable in that.

But I think they advised me that way because God is not just after pinning souls into a billboard and having us suffer out daily life in misery. On the contrary! Novak clearly states that grace is found where;

at the heart of Christianity lie the sinner and the humdrum mediocrity of daily life. The neighbor we are called upon to love is not the rosy abstraction, humankind, but exactly those neighbors who get on our nerves—and indeed precisely when they do so. Christianity is not a religion of escape.

None of life to run away from; so I can’t just be trying to work my way to heaven… He’s given me days and time to savour Him; this gender is some way for me to better know Him, as particularly as I in my womanhood can, and offer that to all His people as a compliment for the male knowing of Him. This is the sacramental living, finding daily grace in everyday mundaneness. Just as much as my womanhood has to offer in special ways men cannot like mothering, taking part in God’s creative act and dispersing flesh and blood differently, so men interact with God in ways I am unable:

The priest’s maleness is a reminder of the central role played in our salvation by the sacramentality of human flesh—not flesh-in-general, but male flesh. “This is my body,” he says in the place of Christ, the male Christ. “This is my blood.” It is not an angel we eat and drink, not spirit, not a (disembodied) person: but the male Christ, body and soul, human and divine person.

In the end, Novak leaves the Church to determine by fruits or practice. Maybe his wager is already paid, but some of us are not yet experienced enough in living out our own gender to understand what cannot work. But I am not done with my questions, though female ordination into the serving priesthood is banned enough from my mind… I am sure I will question further in other veins this female identity Jesus has made me in—a whole different form and matter than man, but of similar matter in the male way.