Some seven years after this article was first published here, are we still waiting until the proper time comes?  We hope you find it as compelling today as when originally published.

They call the pastor "Sister"

— Originally posted here on April 12, 2002

Some Catholics question the wisdom of women pastors described by Ruth Walker in her book, "They Call Her Pastor," saying that women should stand back until Rome allows a married clergy and the ordination of women.

At first glance, such a plan to try to force Rome's hand seems to have its merits, kind of like holding back on a shipment of grain until the price is right on the Commodity Exchange. The problem is that people aren't sacks of grain to be stored safely in bins until the proper time comes for taking care of them. They can't wait for a future date.

A 75-year-old woman wrote a letter to Rosemary Radfor Ruether that was published in the National Catholic Reporter ten years ago, describing the desperation of a life-long Catholic:

"As of this present time, the R.C. Church is one of the last dictatorships on earth, and a cruel one at that. "But what tears my heart ... is the sacraments. In those I do believe ..I'll soon be going home, my journey over. I'll be buried out of the Church where I've lived in and loved all my life. But it is so cold and lonely out here. Where do I go? What do I do?"

Such a seeker might find that the parish meeting her needs is pastored by a woman. After four years of a Sister's leadership, one man said, "I feel part of the Church now. I think it's the best thing that's ever happened here. I'm encouraged. I love it. It's our Church."

Another boasted, "We have far more leadership and caring, nurturing, bringing out of talent than we have ever had before. She is always involved and always present."

At a deanery meeting, a bishop told how impressed he was when he accompanied a Sister on a visit to a girl who was dying of cancer:

"I could tell the interaction between Sister and the family, how much love and care there is between them and how much support they are to each other. And that's what I mean when I talk about having a pastoral heart."

While the Sisters cannot celebrate the Eucharist, the majority are called upon to preach the truth, which in the biblical sense means "the reliability of God's love."

They do so, not from the safety of an ivory tower, untouched by the chaos within the Church, but from the spiritual battlefield, where the poor and the powerless struggle in confusion. Henri Nouwen used to remind us that "a man cannot be led out of the desert by someone who has never been there." The same is true for a woman.

Wallace says that the pastors keep up with their reading and begin to prepare their homilies on Monday or Tuesday, so they will not be caught unprepared if an emergency arises.

One priest objected to the pastor's preaching, saying that as long as he was the celebrant of the Mass, he should do the preaching. True, but the Sister had been busy all week shepherding the people; therefore, she feels she has both the right and the responsibility to preach, at least once a month. Frequently, the priest and pastor take turns, which creates an atmosphere of trust and respect in the community.

For Mass, some pastors wear an alb and walk in procession with the priest, then remain in the sanctuary because the people like to see them accorded that respect. Others wear ordinary dress, even when presiding at a paraliturgy, and like to attend Mass in the pews with the people to avoid any hint of clericalism.

Personally, I favor the pastor's wearing the alb, which not only adds a touch of dignity to the service, but places all the women in the same position with regard to their financial ability to afford to dress well.

These strong women see the Church's faults and weep over the scandals appearing in all forms of the media, but they also know her spiritual riches, her beauty and strength to capture people's hearts and to lead them along right paths.

They look at young people with no faith, no sense of direction. They look at parents who seem almost as lost as their children. They look at the old, feeling frightened and abandoned by those whom they trusted. And they walk with them, as Jesus walked with his own along the shores of Galilee.

Originally posted here on April 12, 2002

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