In the May 20th article about the strange omission of key women in the lectionary, through the work of Sister Ruth Fox, we addressed the betrayal of women by a small number of men, commissioned to present a lectionary before the people of God, women as well as men, to nourish their souls and feed truth to their minds.

Instead of nourishment and truth, we found a concerted effort to excise passages of scripture that would present women as strong, intelligent, holy and wise, wise enough to lead soldiers in battle, compassionate enough to care for the most vulnerable among them.

“Why,” I asked myself, “should we be concerned about this?”

I answered my own question: “We owe it to our young women to speak out and declare to those in charge of the liturgy in which we take part Sunday after Sunday, that we must give the best we have to the women who are following us.”

Of course, the heartbreaking fact is that many are not following. It was some years ago at a meeting of Call To Action in Milwaukee, when an elderly woman stood up and put this question to Bishop Raymond Lucker:

“Bishop, countless women like me have volunteered in the church our entire lives. Now, we find that our children are not going to Mass, our grandchildren are not being baptized. Our hearts are broken. Bishop, do you think the other bishops understand what we are going through?”

Lucker understood the woman’s sorrow, and said the other bishops understood, as well, though, perhaps, not all.

Recently, a young mother from the Chicago area, another from New Mexico, and a third from Milwaukee said they can no longer attend Mass because of the Church’s obvious discrimination against women.

They say this isn’t a question only of ordination; it goes deeper, much deeper. It is a question of their feeling unloved, unaccepted, barely tolerated by the institutional Church, made clear, among other means, by the use of exclusive language, even in the Catechism.

Furthermore, they find it ironic and scandalous that some who denied and covered up the abuse of children by priests for years should be so concerned lest inclusive language desecrate the liturgy.

Who needs the graces of the Mass and the support of the community more than mothers? Is the ministry to young mothers, who have left the Church, being examined by the bishops today? Is it possible that if we stopped all the programs against abortion and turned our full attention to our young women, we might find many fewer abortions?

If we stop to consider what bringing a child into the world entails, the life-long commitment, both the joys and sorrows, the stripping away of self that motherhood requires in many instances, we can see that grace is needed on so large and long a scale, we cannot fathom its depth. Then, why are we not doing more to nourish our mothers in such great need? Is that not what Jesus meant by commanding his disciples to feed his lambs and sheep?

True story, but hard to believe: It was a simple gathering of friends and families. After the beautifully prepared luncheon, I wandered into the living room, where a young mother was sitting with a six-month old, a two-year old was at her side, and a four-year old was in the downstairs playroom.

I can’t recall how the conversation turned toward the woman’s spiritual concerns. She said that when she, a new parishioner, was with the women in the basement of the church, the pastor was standing alone, and she walked up, introduced herself, and said, “I’m divorced.” He looked at her, said not a word, and strode away.

She told me she goes to Mass on Sunday, and prays the rosary with the women on Fridays, but that, of course she doesn’t receive any graces because of her divorce.

My reaction was one of overwhelming sadness, anger, and disbelief. The shepherd, whose salary the woman helps to pay, should leave and earn an honest living selling shoes, for he certainly isn’t interested in shepherding. What did he know of her first marriage? What of her three children in her second? God is not pleased with her? He is not giving her graces to live her life of hard work and love, patience and forgiveness? Could that pastor do for one day what she does day in and day out? Why did he not ask her if she would like to talk things over with him? Needless to say, I told her how much God loved her, and his grace was with her every second of the day, that her situation was flooded with hope. There were true shepherds who could and would help her.

Frequently, we are seeing the educated women we desperately need to shepherd our women, who have sought ordination in the Anglican and Lutheran churches. Good women are they – prayerful, scholarly, compassionate, qualified to serve, but not with us.

What about the women who have studied side by side with their husbands in the diaconate program? Husbands were ordained. Wives were given flowers and pats on the head. What a waste of training, and arrogant indifference to grace offered, received and used through those years of training.

Some will ask us older women: Why don’t you leave? What keeps you here? This is our church. When we come to liturgy, we bring decades of liturgy with us: memories of dedicated priests, religious, laity; our saints, families, friends, our varied ministries, the mix offered each morning at the table of the Lord.

A woman expressed it well to a priest friend of hers, who would not have been put off by her words: “We’re not about to let you guys get between us and our God!” In the end, it is God and our relationship with him/her that brings us to liturgy, our home all the way home.

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