Women as Priests? Everyone Likes Being Invited to the Party

It is 2014. I am a Catholic. Born and raised. Catholic Grammar School, Catholic High School, and even Catholic College. Sunday mass was mandatory, no questions asked. My parents went to mass on every holy day of obligation with us, unless we were going at school. They also attended morning mass everyday during Lent.

Beau and I are also sending our kids to Catholic School starting this fall. We just think it’s the best for our kids. Case closed.

When my mom was dying, my Dad reminded us that this is what we believe. She will be in heaven. It’s not fair that she won’t be here, but she will be in a better place. Yep, okay. Better place. Got it. We believed.

I’ve had a lot of time on my hands lately, and noticed a lot of coverage questioning if women should be able to become priests. This is what we are concerned about in the year 2014? Kind of mind-boggling to me. But I’ve wasted time on way more senseless stuff than this before.

I don’t ever remember my mom being overly feministic. But I do remember her always instilling in me that I could do anything I wanted in life. Anything at all. She lied.

My second grade teacher was Ms. McGovern. I remember that I asked her if I could be a priest. The answer was a big fat no. I would never be able to become a priest because I was a girl. Okay, now I know. I went on to become an alter server. But that’s where I hit the proverbial Catholic glass ceiling.

I would love to never have to worry about my hair and wardrobe everyday.
I would love to never have to worry about my hair and wardrobe everyday.

It never bothered me. I did not want to be a priest. Or a nun, for that matter. Except for when I went through my Sound of Music phase. I wanted to be Fräulein Maria. But even she didn’t end up being a nun. Perhaps I just wanted to run through the hills of Austria in the 1930’s, playing a banjo in clothes made from curtains. How do you catch a cloud and pin it down?

My mom bought me a t-shirt once. It had the manger scene after Jesus was born on it. The caption was “It’s a Girl!”. It got a lot of attention. Mostly because my mom would point it out to people wherever we went. Most people got a kick out of it. Except my Dad.  All of the sudden my dad was Archie Bunker.

My shirt was similar to this one.
My shirt was similar to this one.

Another t-shirt I remember having, said, anything boys can do, girls can do better. Really it should have said, girls can do equal. But this was the 80’s. All I know for sure is, I better start buying my daughters some witty t-shirts before they have no self-esteem at all.

When I was attending an all girls catholic high school, the words to the sign of the cross were changed.  “In the name of The Father, The Son, and The Holy Spirit,” were changed to, “The Creator, The Redeemer, and The Sustainer of Life.”

Oh no they di’ent. They did.

But not in my house. My Dad always instilled in me that I could be whatever I wanted to be as well. As long as it wasn’t Jesus, I guess. This change in the sign of the cross, did not go over well with my tuition paying father. It was all very confusing for me. All I knew for sure, was that I could now flunk Religion class and would not get in trouble at home. So I was cool with it.

Being a mother with four children, I want to be able to tell my kids they can become whatever they want to be. Even if it is Jesus. Shoot for the stars kiddos! I guess that would make me the mother of Jesus. I’m sure everyone would be just fine with that. Whatevs. I just want them to be happy and to be able to follow their dreams. Which I’m pretty sure will never include being the son/daughter of God.

And as a thirty-seven year old woman, I want the right to be anything I want to be. I still have no desire to become a priest. But some woman do. So I say hellz to the yeahz. You go girl.

It’s like when there is a party. Everyone wants to be invited. You may have no intention of going to the party. But it’s always nice to be invited.

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