The Holy Spirit Is a Woman

Yeah, yeah, I know, the Holy Spirit has no gender. Malarky! Remember in Catechism, learning about God the Father (clearly male) God the Son (clearly male) and God the Spirit (genderless)? Does this make sense? Why does only one leaf on the shamrock have no gender?

It is Pentecost Sunday, the day the Spirit came to the Apostles and they became filled with it, so naturally, the Spirit was the topic of the homily. Throughout his sermon, Father Don kept referring to the Spirit with masculine pronouns ~ and I realized: he is wrong.

The Holy Spirit fills Christians with strength, courage, faith and joy. The Holy Spirit inspires, ennobles and encourages. The Holy Spirit pushes us in the right direction. It guides us. It comforts us. It helps us notice what we need to notice. The Spirit never demands, never forces us to accept it. The Spirit waits for our invitation. And the Spirit really doesn't get the credit it deserves. Sure, we all know about the Spirit, but it's always the third branch.

Who gets the praise? The Father & the Son. Who gets the glory? The Father & the Son. Who does all sorts of amazing things behind the scenes because they need doing? The Spirit.

See, the Holy Spirit is female. And it's not just any female. The Holy Spirit is a mother. All those who insist God is a woman, are not entirely wrong. So, on one of the special days where we recognize the greatness of the Holy Spirit, I hope you are all filled with her fire and inspired to go and share the joy.

Christ the King and the Big One

Today is the feast of Christ the King. It is the celebration of the coming kingdom of Christ (you didn't see that coming, did you?). There are some great truths out there waiting to be discerned. Christ the King makes me think of The Big One.

Anyone raised Christian learned in childhood that Jesus died for our sins. It's pretty matter-of-fact that He had to come to Earth, in the form of man, to be sacrificed so God would forgive our sins and we could go to heaven. Well, not really, but when you know that almost your whole life, it seems matter-of-fact. It's actually astonishing. Think about it. You're God, you can do anything, and you're born as human. Voluntarily. The diaper stage alone is a lot to go through, when you know what's going on. The Passion, that's nothing, that's a couple of days ~ truly hellacious days, but days. Imagine going through puberty, just to be nice to us. Acne, growth spurts, hormones (Christian theology tells us He is wholly human as well as wholly divine, so He had to deal with it all) for our sins. That's a couple of years. I can think of nothing that would make me willing to go through puberty again. Menopause dancing in front of me, taunting me, is still more appealing than puberty.

But that is still not The Big Truth. I cannot imagine that the nuns didn't teach this, but I can imagine that didn't pay enough attention. I do tend to be rather easily distracted. (Oh, look at what Peanut's doing. What was I saying? Oh, yeah, sorry.) It is amazing that Jesus would go through thirty-three years as one of us, for us. It seems odd, a bit sad, and even mean-spirited that God would do this to His own Son. Why couldn't He just allow our sins to be forgiven? And this is where The Big One comes in to play. Like I said, I assume that it was taught, but I didn't learn it. Sometimes, God whispers in our ears, and we brush Him away like a fly. His messages can be hard to take, it is easier to ignore Him. Sometimes He lets it go. Other times, we will hear what He has to say no matter how afraid we are to get the real message. It's like He whomps you upside the head with a spiritual two-by-four.

We cannot feel the extent of God's love. Our little human hearts cannot bear it. We get teasers, but we won't be able to completely bask in it as long as we inhabit these bags of bones. When our souls are in Heaven, then we will revel in His love. It is because of the limits of our humanity that is easier to think God made Jesus endure more than three decades as man to earn redemption than to accept theTruth. As hard as that is to believe, it is still easier for our fragile human hearts than the Truth.

A couple of years ago, we had the old family movies copied onto DVDs. No one had watched them for about thirty years. My Grandma has been dead more than twenty-five of those years. As I sat in front of the computer, watching two-year-old me with Grandma, I found myself cheering for the toddler, "Pick her up. Oh please, pick her up." As though she'd heard my plea, long-ago Grandma bent over and picked up long-ago me. I could feel her arms around me once more. I could feel her love. (I still miss her ~ she was a great lady.) It was so wonderful to feel that again. I think she was in heaven watching me watch us. It was so overwhelming, I wept.

Once He finally made me understand The Big One, it was like that film of Grandma Johnson, to the nth degree. God didn't make Jesus do it. We did. We know we're unworthy. We offered sacrifices since the dawn of time, trying for expiation. God stopped Abraham from sacrificing his son, Isaac, to show us that we don't have to be worthy. He loves us anyway. We couldn't, or wouldn't, grasp it. Jesus came down, lived as one of us, died for us ~ not so God would forgive us, but so we would accept God's forgiveness. So we would believe that He'll forgive us even though we aren't worthy.

It is a love so powerful it is hard not to weep. It is so much bigger than any human love. We are so unworthy. And He doesn't care. Like any parent, He loves us regardless. He is waiting patiently to forgive us, we just have to ask. That is a mighty regal concept, befitting Christ the King.