Tag: female clergy

STILL???

by Dr. Kristina “Tina” Campbell

At the end of a recent meeting, a male clergy stood to his full height, looked me square in the eye, and announced, “Tina, now I’m going to a meeting of pastors who do not believe in the ordination of women, and I consider them to be my brothers in Christ.” And then he turned on his heel and exited the room. It felt like a drive by shooting. Like most cowards, he made sure there were no witnesses and no opportunity for confrontation. I was triggered into full blown post traumatic stress, going back to countless similar episodes that occurred during my seminary days fifty years ago. I was stunned.

Later in the day, I shared the incident with a trusted colleague, and he, too, looked me straight in the eye and said, “That was no micro-aggression. That was an all out attack.” Then he paused and said, “I’m sorry.”

I was one of the “firsts”—women to be ordained, to be accepted in my CPE program, to serve in certain roles in ecclesiastical, administrative and chaplaincy positions. Being a “first” is exhausting, lonely, and sometimes challenging beyond measure, and yet we “firsts” hope some progress has been made as a result of our efforts. I have not lost hope or determination or a sense of call, yet I find myself the only member of my full-time staff belonging to a denomination that ordains women. Sometimes it feels as if no progress has been made. Sometimes it feels like we are fighting fifty year old battles.

I get it why Jesus went to the desert to be alone. I don’t think he wanted to give up. He just needed a moment to shed a few private tears, to absorb the concept of betrayal, to reassess, to regroup, to ready himself for crucifixion. I get it why Jesus needed to stare stunned into space, allowing his doubts, fears, anger, and disappointments to wash over him. He needed that sacred desert space to regroup, restore and return to his ministry as a whole human being. I love Jesus for going to the desert and unapologetically experiencing his full humanity. I love Jesus for never saying it would be easy or without personal pain. Lent affords us the opportunity to pause, to fully feel and to prepare to return to the challenges of our faith and calling. Breathe. Bow. Weep. Restore. Return. Amen.

–Tina was ordained in 1975 and retains a faith where all are fully embraced to pursue their authentic selves and callings. She has been in the desert for over forty years.

Yes, Me, Too

by Abigail Conley

If your pastor is a woman, she can say, “Me, too.”

No, really, if your pastor is a woman, she can say, “Me, too.”

Maybe you’ve been hiding out away from social media and missed the #metoo of the last few weeks, when women have been talking about everyday sexual harassment and sexual assault. Again. Last year it was #yesallwomen. Tarana Burke started talking about me, too ten years ago.

Just so you hear it: if your pastor is a woman, she can say, “Me, too.”

At least one person who she’s referencing in that, “Me, too,” is likely in the pew along with you.

That’s maybe the best kept secret of female clergy. We talk about it among ourselves. If we’re lucky, we talk about it with lay leaders who have our backs. We sit through boundary trainings geared toward men talking about all the things clergy shouldn’t do; no one ever addresses how to handle sexual harassment from one of your sheep. We write about the omission in the review, if one is handed out.

In five years in my current call, I’ve twice said to lay leaders, “I should never be alone with this person.” Both times, they had my back. They went with me on pastoral visits. They magically appeared in key places in the church building. The most challenging response I ever got was, “I don’t get that vibe, but ok.” Be those people. Never, ever respond, “Oh, that’s just Dave.” Even if he’s an old man who walks with a cane, he can still sexually harass your pastor. He’s one of the reasons I say, “Me, too.”

As I reflect on these experiences, I’m trying to remember now if we were ever told we should report other clergy who sexually harass us. The Big Deal time that happened to me, it sucked a day of work away as I reported and followed up; it has meant I thought long and hard about going to places where he would be, even if they’d benefit me professionally. His ministry’s success is in a denominational entity’s promo video; my stomach drops every time I see it.

You can read plenty of articles out there about Me, Too, even talking specifically about the complicity of the church. You should. Google is your friend and if you are shocked, you need to realize how deep and ubiquitous this problem is. If you are not shocked, you still need to be reminded. But I have two other, far more important requests.

First of all, believe your pastor when she says, “Me, too.” Believe that it is true even if she doesn’t say it in front of you. This is one of the longstanding, often accepted sins of the church.

Second, and just as important: don’t stop talking about me, too. Don’t think in another year that it’s a new thing. Amplify the voices of the women talking about sexual violence by reading and sharing their work. This is the beginning to create a generation of women who cannot say, “Me, too.” That work is all of our work. It is surely work that is as holy as feeding hungry people. Do this work with the same persistence and determination. Do it as if your life depends on it, because many lives do.

And in the meantime, yeah, me, too.