Laying on of Hands

A couple of weeks ago, I was pleased and quite honored to be part of the ordination to the Episcopal priesthood of my friend Milly. It was at the Cathedral of All Souls which is, oddly enough, one of my church homes. The home of my heart (and blood, sweat and tears) is Mother Grove Goddess Temple. But All Souls and the UU Congregation of the Swannanoa Valley are also home to me. We have different ways of working and different ways of visioning the Divines (well, maybe we do) but we are all working towards justice and kindness and we treat each other with generosity and sacred hospitality.

Last year, Milly invited me to help the youth group with a May Day celebration. They planted a Maypole on the church green and I taught them a circle dance and we had great fun. So when Milly invited me to her diaconate ordination, I happily accepted. I sat quietly in the back and winked at her as she processed in. It’s a lovely service in a lovely church. All was lovely. Until the reception afterwards when Milly cornered me and said–I thought you were going to process in? I sputtered a bit and hemmed and hawed. Milly was quite firm though–will you process in for my ordination? Promise?

And I promised, and I did.

MY UU pastor friend Lisa and I consulted on the color of robes for this formal event and we were comforted that we’d both wear our blacks. We were the Crow Sisters amongst all the white albs and chasubles. The robing room was filled with women putting on stoles and tying cords. The men were mostly dressed and hanging out outside. But there was a certain thrill when I walked into the “clergy dressing area” and it was filled with women.

Change has come and is continuing its bright march.

We processed in and I avoided singing most of the hymns and saying many of the prayers. I changed “Veni, Spiritus Sancti” to “Veni, Spirita Sancta” and drew down the Goddess, though She was already there.

I don’t envy the Christian church on much but I have to give credit where credit is due with the glory of the music. Mercy–the choir was exquisite, the organ perfectly pitched and suited.

I like to watch other people’s rituals and sometimes I steal ideas and sometimes I wish I could convince them to try it a different way. But I am always interested in how clergy do what we do. There was much quoting of holy words and great preaching from Carter. And there were the inevitable vows and the bowing to the authority–a part that makes me sad and a little anxious, to be honest.

Then the rows of clergy-folk–including the Crow Sisters–came forward to empower and support the new priest. And there I was in my hunter green stole, my crown, my cords of initiation, standing with everyone else to bless this new priest in her fine work. I put my hand under her upper arm, as though to lift her up, and I felt the winds of the Divine blow through that place and center on her.

We then returned to our seats and soon after processed out and went to a fine reception.

When interfaith is at its best, we each of us stand firmly in our own traditions while respecting the traditions of those around us. We recognize the common work of clergy-folk–whatever the tradition. We stand as witness and as support, whichever of the Divines we serve. In this work is a chance for genuine reciprocity and a kind of peace. In this work is the opportunity to serve with grace, to feed the hungry, to strengthen the resilience of community.

And so it is.