What About Me? Women and the Catholic Church

By Sharon Tighe-Mooney

- One woman's investigation of the role of women in the Christian Church since its inception, as she counters the Roman Catholic church's argument for excluding them from the priesthood


- Details the gradual exclusion of women from positions of power as the Roman Catholic Church evolved.


- Accessible account from the viewpoint of an ordinary woman in the Church.

- Cover quotes from Mary McAleese, Fr. Tony Flannery

and
Mary T. Malone.


What About Me? Women and the Catholic Church is an exploration by an ordinary woman, born into the Catholic faith of the arguments given to exclude her from ministry. Using her research skills, Sharon examines the New Testament, Christian writings and Papal documents. It is a personal quest to shed light on the story of women in the Christian movement from its earliest days to the present. The objective of the book is to explore, inform, speculate and question and it should appeal to a general audience. The context of the book is the 2010 move by Pope Benedict XVI to elevate the 'crime' of ordaining women to Catholic ministry and the subsequent censoring of religious

personnel
who questioned this edict. This book details a quest to find out where the strong antipathy towards women in the Roman Catholic Church's institutional mindset comes from.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Mercier Press
• Release date: Mar 9, 2018
• ISBN: 9781781175415

Book preview

The Major Eras of Christianity

1st–2nd century – New Testament times

2nd–6th century – Hellenistic, Patristic model

3rd–4th century – Medieval Latin Catholic model (finalised 11th–15th century)

16th century – Protestant Reformation model

17th–19th century – Enlightenment model

20th–21st century – Postmodern, Ecumenical model1

Foreword

What I liked immediately about this book was its straightforward, clear and explicit title: What About Me? Women and the Catholic Church. The question of women haunts the Catholic Church and has done so for centuries, but, despite mountains of papal encyclicals, the Church is no closer to peaceful co-existence with women.

It was Bernard Lonergan, the great Canadian Jesuit theologian, who suggested that the most radical thing a person could do was to name the obvious. This is what this book sets out to do without excuse or prevarication, and the author, Sharon Tighe-Mooney, delivers to a superlative degree what she promises. The Catholic Church is entirely male dominant in its leaders, its teachers, its hierarchical clergy structure, its liturgy, its language and its exclusively male-metaphored God. We women are so accustomed to it that we barely notice it and we continue the daily task of claiming our personhood and naming our God in the most toxic of circumstances.

It is noticeable that in the past few years the Catholic Church itself has officially ceased to attempt an explanation of this situation and has retreated to the least convincing position, that of proclaiming its authority to decide such issues. The most recent such proclamation came from Pope Francis, who, when queried about the priestly ordination of women, replied, ‘that door is closed’.

Attempts at a theological explanation of the status of women as nonentities in the Catholic Church go back centuries, but a series of recent statements continues to attempt such an explanation. In 1943 Pope Pius XII suggested that women and men were ‘absolutely equal’ coram deo, in the sight of God, but in the sight of men, however, this was not the case as women and men had been assigned specific roles in the ‘order of creation’ and women would always be in a position of subordination to men. In the 1970s Paul VI brought further confusion to the issue. On the one hand he made Teresa of Ávila and Catherine of Siena Doctors of the Church, thus contradicting the apostle Paul’s dictum that women could not teach in the Church. On the other hand, he issued what became the definitive statement against the ordination of women, Inter Insigniores. This document was greeted so negatively by theologians worldwide that it struck a blow at further attempts at theological explanations about why women had to occupy an inferior status in the Church.

Pope John Paul II contributed two more definitive statements to the subject. They were ‘ontological complementarity’ and the ‘genius of femininity’. Each of these deals with the fundamentally auxiliary position of women in the Catholic Church, and bring us to the nub of the issue. In one sense, the question of ordination has been a good distraction for the Catholic Church. It has drawn attention away from the essence of the issue about women, and that is femaleness, the full female humanity and personhood of women.

For the Catholic Church femaleness is at the opposite pole to divinity. The Church is happy to talk about femininity, the ‘nice’ cultural attributes of women. It can even speak of femininity in God who is kind and merciful and displays other womanly secondary attributes. But femaleness is another matter.

What a relief then to turn to the writings of Christian women, specifically the medieval women mystics, who proclaimed with absolute confidence, ‘My real me is God’ and who celebrated their relationship of intimacy and even identity with God. At one of the most misogynistic periods in the history of Christianity, these women found their own appropriate way of speaking to and of God. And this fundamentally is the meaning of mysticism, which has been the woman’s way of bypassing male mediation and naming and claiming their own God.

There are two kinds of Christians, two kinds of Catholics, women Catholics and men Catholics. The story of male Christianity has been the absolutely predominant version of Christianity and Catholicism available to us. Now, thanks to women such as Sharon Tighe-Mooney, we are beginning to hear the women’s story of Christianity, of Catholicism and, even more importantly, of God.

Mary T. Malone

Wexford, 2018

Introduction

I was rather taken aback by the Vatican’s 2010 decision, under the papacy of Benedict XVI (2005–13), to upgrade the ‘sin’ of ordaining a woman. Considering the context at the time – with worldwide revelations about the child abuse scandal, the vast scale of cover-up and secrecy, and the hostile stance taken towards victims – this was, to my mind, a rather strange move. In addition, given that women are forbidden from ministry in the Catholic Church, as well as being personally unaware of any specific public call for the ordination of women, I was puzzled by the timing and curious about what the move actually meant for women. First and foremost, it suggested that the Church meant business on this issue. There was to be no more discussion, and all pertinent people, such as seminarians, ordinands, clergy and theologians in Catholic institutions, are now obliged to take an oath affirming this position, among others, on Church teachings.

To close down all avenues of discussion, as John Paul II (1978–2005) had similarly done, seemed a defensive action. For me, it prompted the question of what it was that the men of the Church feared. Why make something that was already sinful and forbidden a more serious ‘sin’? I was also curious to see what it said about the Church’s attitude to women. Why at that time? What was the motivation, and more important, what were the implications?

I should point out that I felt seriously offended by this action. I have never understood why, as the Church teaches, the Holy Spirit would not call women to serve as ordained ministers when clearly women are and always have been called to serve God: within the restrictions placed upon them by the men of the Church, that is. I should also point out that while many women feel the same as I do about this, many other women do not. In other words, just as is the case for men, all women do not think and feel the same way about everything. Just as with men, they have different opinions, experiences and motivations. This is something I think needs to be said because, when reading material issued by the institutional Church, I have been struck by the recurring perspective on women, which is, first, that the value of women is completely bound up with their role as mothers; and second, the assumption that all women are the same.

I realised that I wanted to explore the story of women in the Christian movement and find the origin of such strongly held negative views about women. The Catholic Church is influential in many parts of the world. Many women live their lives according to its edicts while being denied access to its organisational ranks. In my view, while gender inequality continues to exist in organised religions, the barrier to full participation for women in all aspects of society will continue. This might seem like a weighty claim, but if we look at the aspirational aspects of many religions, which encourage people to respect and value one another, the secondary position of women in these religious structures undermines that message. Moreover, the scriptures have been used again and again to position women as inferior beings. In other words, we are supposed not only to believe, but also to accept, that while humans are equal in the eyes of God, this does not mean that women have equal access to priestly ministry. So the teaching that we are all one in Christ Jesus has restrictions. In my view, while this dichotomous worldview persists, violence against or abuse of anyone perceived as ‘other’, in this case, women, is implicitly condoned.

My own background is Catholic and I am a long-time member of a church choir. I believe in God and in the survival of the soul or spirit after death. I do not believe that God is sexist, racist or homophobic. Nor do I believe that one faith system is necessarily ‘better’ than another. I have at times found church rituals to be somewhat comforting or soothing. I have heard wonderfully affirming words and ideas expressed from the altar to help people cope with life, its trials and its tribulations. At the same time, I have also been seriously irritated and offended at the views delivered from the pulpit. In my case, the idea of a group of mostly elderly white men imposing their views and their will on women’s lives and decisions, without any consultation or even regard for women, gradually began to rankle. How had it come to pass that our lives could be shaped and formulated by celibate men living in an autonomous enclave in Rome? Furthermore, what kind of God would divinely ordain the superiority and authority of one Christian over another?

My journey towards questioning the tenets of Catholicism began as a series of unrelated events. Many will recall collections for ‘black babies’ from their schooldays. We were told that these babies were doomed to spend eternity in Limbo unless saved by missionaries. I was stunned by this revelation. How could innocent babies, because of where they happened to be born, be subject to such a fate? I simply could not accept this as being true. Questioning such edicts, however, was simply not done at the time, as my experience of Church teaching in convent school and in the Church itself was one based on the notion of sin and guilt, on the imposition of rules and with the expectation of unquestioning obedience. As a result, I felt as an adult that I knew very little about Catholicism and its history. Sharing a house with Protestant and Presbyterian friends many years later made it clear to me how little I knew about my faith in contrast to my housemates’ impressive knowledge of theirs.

As the years went by, I found myself continuously irritated at having to deal with everything from a male point of view. I also had difficulty with the diametrically opposed edict of, on the one hand, placing responsibility for the perpetuation of the faith on Catholic women, and, on the other, the complete exclusion of women’s voices in decision-making in the Church. Where, as a woman, was I supposed to fit in? How, as a woman, was I supposed to identify with such a male-centred Church? Moreover, how can a Church that is identified as a loving Church be so disdainful about half its membership because of their gender?

Some years later I happened to be studying the fiction of the Irish writer Kate O’Brien (1897–1974) for my doctorate, and what really interested me was her exploration of the impact that Catholic Church edicts had on the way her female characters thought, behaved and conducted their lives. During my research, I came across a copy of Mary McAleese’s Reconciled Being: Love in Chaos. In her book, McAleese mentions that while she was writing a speech to be delivered in a church the following day, it occurred to her that she was probably the first woman to stand in the pulpit without a tin of polish and a duster in her hand! The image stuck in my mind and I began to question the extent of the role that the Catholic Church had played in the experiences and lives of women. This, in turn, led me into an exploration of the representation of women in the Bible and in Christian writings. To a large extent, the motive for writing this book was to find out what I wanted to know myself.

The many questions I had about women’s lack of place in the Roman Catholic Church ultimately boiled down to two: first, why do Catholic women not have a role in the organisational model of their own Church? And second, why is the institutional Church so opposed to the idea of female ministry that the Vatican is prepared to dismiss, excommunicate and censure their own personnel for attempting to discuss the topic? In the quest for knowledge and enlightenment, I have been helped greatly by the many excellent books published on the subject by historians and theologians, whose work has contributed to and assisted this personal exploration immensely. The research I have drawn from most especially includes Women and Christianity, in three volumes, by Mary T. Malone; The Gospel According to Woman by Karen Armstrong; Eunuchs for Heaven by Uta Ranke-Heinemann; and The Ordination of Women in the Catholic Church by John Wijngaards. Mary T. Malone is a former Professor of Theology at the Toronto School of Theology, now living in Ireland. Karen Armstrong is a former religious sister and has written many books on faith and the major religions. Uta Ranke-Heinemann is a convert to Catholicism and the daughter of the former President of West Germany, Gustav Heinemann (1969–74). She was a classmate of Pope Benedict XVI’s at the University of Munich in the early 1950s. In 1970 she became the first woman in the world to hold a chair of Catholic theology at the University of Essen, which she lost in 1987, however, after denying the Virgin Birth. She has been one of the most outspoken critics of Pope John Paul II. John Wijngaards is a former Vicar General of the Mill Hill Missionaries and founder of the Wijngaards Institute for Catholic Research, based in England. In 1998 he resigned from his priestly ministry in protest against Pope John Paul II’s decrees Ordinatio Sacerdotalis and Ad Tuendam Fidem, which forbade further discussion about the topic of women priests in the Catholic Church.

A word about how sources have been noted might be useful. A frequently used source is the Catechism of the Catholic Church. The Catechism was commissioned by the Council of Trent (1545–63) and published in 1566 for use by priests. It was reissued by Pope John Paul II in 1994, and this is the edition used throughout. In the introductory letter of the Catechism, Pope John Paul II described the work as ‘a statement of the Church’s faith and of catholic doctrine, attested to or illumined by Sacred Scripture, the Apostolic Tradition and the Church’s Magisterium’.1 In other words, the statements or teachings are, he said, supported by the Bible, the apostles, their successors and the Magisterium or teaching authority of the Church. All paragraphs in the Catechism are numbered, and so the usual manner of referencing is used, which is to cite the particular paragraph referred to rather than the page number. All Bible references are taken from The HarperCollins Study Bible, unless otherwise stated. Quotations are referenced in endnotes and all sources are listed in the bibliography by author surname in alphabetical order.

Ancient sources are a little different. The individual gospels are first divided into chapters and then into sections or verses. A quotation from the Gospel of Mark in the Bible will therefore look like this: (Mark 2.14), that is, the Gospel of Mark, chapter two, verse fourteen; and Mark 2.14–16 is the Gospel of Mark, chapter two, verses fourteen to sixteen. In addition, for reasons of brevity, the various gospels, such as the Gospel of Mark, for example, are on occasion referred to as ‘Mark’ or ‘Mark’s gospel’. Similarly, the term, ‘Church’, will be used hereafter to refer to the Roman Catholic Institutional Church Organisation. Dates following the names of popes and archbishops relate to their years in office; other dates following individuals’ names relate to birth and death years.

I am conscious that the subject matter is an area of deep personal significance to many people. Moreover, there is little doubt about the importance of faith in the lives of millions of people around the world. While many may not agree with what I have to say, the aim of this book is not to convince, but rather to discuss. Like most things in life, there are no simple, clear-cut answers. Rather, what I offer here is one perspective, based on the research undertaken to find some answers to my questions; questions that many historians and theologians have also posed and investigated. What interests me is how those questions have been answered by the Vatican, and how such answers resonate with an ordinary lay person, such as myself, reading the material for themselves. My hope is that readers will find my discoveries interesting and thought-provoking.

1

The Early Christian Movement

How the Gospels Came About

Whether we are aware of it or not, the way we think and behave in the West has been framed by a Christian heritage. That heritage includes a specific worldview of women’s ‘nature’ and role in society. While there have been important cultural advances for women in this regard, the one institution that has not altered its perception of women to any great degree is the Roman Catholic Church. The Bible, as well as Christian texts and history, were written by men, about men and for a male audience. Moreover, these works have been interpreted and taught by men. Thus women are presented from a male perspective. Of course, women are and always have been present in all aspects of societal, cultural and religious development, but their thoughts, opinions and actions are not recorded in the same way as those of men. As a