This is a first for my blog. I wrote a post this morning, but it is still in editing phase, so not published yet. Maybe tomorrow or Friday. However, I'm writing this second one, and will publish it immediately because I think it is important in ways I don't quite understand yet.
For the last two hours, I have been watching the live stream of the installation service at Canterbury Cathedral for the first woman Archbishop of Canterbury, Sarah Mullally.
It was a warm and inspiring service for so many reasons, including the inclusion of African music and readings, girls joining the boys in the choir, prominent roles played by other female clergy, and music by a woman composer to words of medieval mystic Julian of Norwich. Less superficially, the whole scene (a major British cathedral, the pomp and ceremony, the robes, music, processions, rites) remains my core home on a level that just never goes away. I mean, that truth is still with me on this boat of mine, even though old assumptions about how to connect with that milieu seem to have disappeared into the wake behind the boat.
At one point, I think it was as the Archbishop was making her commitment to serve the church, I burst into tears, and sobbed for a good five minutes. This is the first time in a few years I have cried that hard. It wasn't that I wanted to physically be at the cathedral, or even in England, per se. It wasn't that I wished that I were in her position, because I don't, if for no other reason than that I know I am not a Christian and could never operate that far out of my integrity. It wasn't really anger or frustration at being too old to have been able to be a girl chorister.
I think it was this: as she said her "vows", I did too, only changing the wording. I mean, in my sloppy pink sweatshirt in a living room overlooking the Mohawk River in Upstate New York, I said aloud, "Goddess, I commit myself to Your service." And implicit in that statement is the notion of leadership. Higher leadership. Energetically, the scene on the screen vibrates almost at my wavelength except for one crucial point, my beliefs. After all these years, I cannot wrap my head around how to bridge that divide, except by being me. I've laid down the burden of most of the effort, and most of the "shoulds" or potential steps. Now I have a feeling that the lighter path opening up is one I could never have envisioned in a million years. Just as I'm sure, earlier in her life, the Archbishop could never have envisioned this day.
As I see the path opening up, may I say "yes", and "yes" again, and again...may I have more courage than I feel like I have!
