Introduction

There have been many efforts on the part of humanity to define the Divine “Life Force” that shapes and imbues our universe with its indwelling presence. For example, there have been copious amounts of discourse about whether this “Force” has a gender, and if so, whether it is male or female. Although commonly misunderstood, my own Catholic tradition allows for a multi-dimensional approach to the topic, taking into account the broad view of cultural conceptions, historical contexts, and divine revelations.

Before we begin, it might be a good starting point to remember that God is far above and beyond any human attempts at description and categorization. As with the purely spiritual beings traditionally called angels, it is reasonable to conclude that the fullness of the divine outpouring and groundwork of reality is unable to be compressed into a physical, binary gender role. Since human beings, both male and female, are made in the image and likeness of God by virtue of their creation, it is also reasonable to see both men and women as carrying inherent attributes within them that are a part of the nature of God.

George MacDonald wrote that from God comes both “the strength of man and beauty of woman,” fusing the utility and ascetics that define the balance of world in which we live. Conversely, it can be said that God is also seen in the uniqueness of feminine strength and masculine beauty. The Divine Force, singularly responsible for bringing forth the universe from the depths of nothingness, is also profoundly sexual, in the purest sense of the word, merging love and creativity to bring forth new life. In God, we see elements of both the life-giving seeding of man and the life-giving birthing of woman, sanctifying our understanding of the procreative act as it unfolds in nature.

Unfortunately, history and culture have a way of shaping and sometimes shrinking the popular imagination in matters beyond the worldly sphere. Judaism and Islam, both of which flourished in the harsh desert landscape of the Middle East, tend to depict God decidedly in the masculine as their righteous warrior king. For patriarchal societies such as their own, this was in keeping with their comprehension of the world and the lens through which they naturally viewed their first interactions with the divine law giver. In time, much of this imagery would be passed down to Christianity, to become a staple of European Christendom.

The Sacred Feminine in Pre-Christian Tradition

 However, other peoples, such as the Druidic Celts, believed that spiritual wisdom was the realm of feminine intuition. Priestesses, witches, and wise women were seen as oracles of the divine who worked with the universal magic coursing through nature and walked between natural and supernatural worlds. The world itself was seen as a manifestation of the Mother Goddess, with every geological aspect of the earth forming some contour of her body. Underground springs and wells were seen as the free-flowing life-blood of the goddess, sacred portals to the spirit world where offerings would be made to local deities. This custom is evocatively preserved in the story of King Arthur’s sword being given and received again by the Lady of the Lake. This was one of the highest forms of tribute, since the forging of metal into weaponry was equated with sacred alchemy and considered to be a pseudo-magical work.

Acknowledging the sovereignty of the goddess, the chieftains and high kings of Celtic lands would be expected to ceremonially and spiritually “mate” with the land, sealing his sacred bond in order to reign over the people and maintain the balance of masculine and feminine forces. If he failed to uphold this vow, the fitness of things would be upset and chaos would surely end his reign. When all was said and done, the goddess was the wielder of every king’s fate, be he ever so proud. A Wiccan chant, reflecting the connection between water and the divine feminine, makes this abundantly clear: “We all come from the goddess and to her we shall return/ Like a drop of rain flowing to the ocean…”

This Indo-European style Paganism, extending into modern Wicca, also has explored a belief the duality of the Divine, made manifest by “The Forest Lovers” or “The Lord and Lady of Nature”, according to the “Witches’ Rune.” It is the mating of these male and female aspects of the divine which is said to bring about the fertility of earth in the spring and summer months, as celebrated on the Celtic festival of Beltane (meaning “bright flame” for the fires lit in celebration) when the masculine and feminine energies are brought into equality and alignment. The May Goddess, also known as the Lady of the Land, is believed to join hands with the Horned God, also called the Green Man, and make the greenwood their marriage bed. In the pagan past, their union would be re-enacted by the men and the women on Beltane night to ensure the fertility of the land.

Many customs associated with Beltane, including the maypole lived on in traditional celebrations of May Day. They were Christianized during the conversion of Europe and came to be strongly associated with the Blessed Virgin Mary. To this day, statues of Our Lady are commonly crowned during the month of May, hearkening back to the appointing of a “May Queen” from among the maidens of the village during the festivals of old.
One of the personification of this feminine divinity among the Celts was Brighid, a triple goddess associated with the fire of the hearth (fertility, childbearing, healing, and domesticity), the fire of the forge (metalwork, craftsmanship, weaving, embroidery, and the just execution of the law), and the fire of inspiration (poetry, song, storytelling, history, and the preservation of culture). She is peace-weaver, gold-bender, and keeper of the flame. She is commonly depicted as integral to the earth, her three faces gazing down from the hills, symbolizing the three phases of life (maiden, mother, crone) or alternately as the red-eared, white cow, giving nourishing milk to starving souls. The song “Brighid’s Kiss” says of her:

“Brighid of the sunrise, rising in the morning, rising in the springtime, breathing o’er the land/See you in the soft cloud, see you in the raindrop, see you in the winds of change blowing through the land/You, the red-eared, white cow nourishing the people, nourishing the hunger, souls longing in our land/Bird that is unfolding, now the time’s upon us, only have we eyes to see your epiphany.”

Like the mythological Oak and Holly Kings who rule over different parts of the year, the aspects of Maiden and the Crone present in Brighid also take turns ruling as the seasons. This ties in to the interrelational aspects of fertility and death, showing that the maiden and the hag are natural cycles that go hand and hand, always brought to fullness through rebirth. The maiden is imprisoned for the length of the winter, when the crone, carrying her lantern, rules over the barren land. The prayers of the people were said to free her youthful spirit, causing the crone herself to return to her maiden form. In celebration, gifts would be cast into wells and ribbons hung on trees in honor of her maidenhead on the festival of Imbolc (meaning “ewe’s milk”, for it is the time of year when sheep become pregnant).

When Ireland was Christianized, another Brighid would arise. According to tradition, she was a saintly abbess and wonder-worker who founded a monastery at Kildare (Cill Dara, “church of the oak”) on the site of a previous pagan shrine to the goddess Brighid, and became the leader of a group of consecrated virgins who tended an eternal flame. She is probably best known for the unique cross design which legend says she wove out of rushes as she sat at the bedside of a dying Irish chieftain and told him the story of Christ’s Passion and Resurrection. As a convert herself, she came to personify all that was good in both the old and new Celtic spiritual traditions. She has been called “Mary of the Gaels”, and was said to have traveled through time and space to serve as a midwife to the Blessed Virgin Mary and suckle the infant Christ Child. Some even see her as a reflection of the divine feminine energy present in the goddess Brighid, with a mission on earth to assure that Ireland transitioned from a Pagan society to a Christian one with minimal bloodshed. In keeping with this, certain legends portray the goddess Brighid adopting the Christ Child as her own and rearing Him to reign over her people in Ireland as High King.

On the other side of the world from the British Isles, a prominent manifestation of female divinity in Taoist and Buddhist tradition is found in Kwan Yin, the Mother of a Thousand Faces, goddess of love and compassion. According to legend, she was once the daughter of a brutal Chinese warlord who sought to arrange a marriage for her, but she refused to comply unless she might marry a healer who dedicated his life to diminishing the sufferings of the people. When her father refused what he considered to be an utterly outlandish request, she ran away to a Buddhist monastery. While there, she became a master of meditation and a bender of elements. But her father, in a rage, ordered the monastery to be razed and his daughter be executed for her disobedience. Miraculously, however, she was able to repel and diffuse the flames with her own hands. The arrows that were fired at her turned around and swords that struck at her shattered. Finally, one of the soldiers strangled her with his bare hands.

Once dead, Kwan Yin felt compassion towards her killer, and agreed to take on the soldier’s negative karma, descending into the underworld to bear his sentence. Yet even in the bowels of the darkness, she began to play and sing beautiful music. As a result, flowers began to grow, light returned, and the souls of the oppressed were liberated. The Lord of the Underworld, understandably distressed, banished her from his realm. She returned to earth, this time transformed into a supernatural tigress that dwelt upon a high mountain. But one day news came that Kwan Yin’s father had fallen deathly ill, and the only thing that could save him was an elixir made of tiger’s eyes. In an unparalleled gesture of self-sacrificial compassion, when the hunters came to search for her, she offered herself to them freely and was slain for the use of her eyes.

When her father had been cured, and learned of the strange story, his heart was finally melted, and he repented of the heinous crimes he had perpetrated. He had a temple erected to his daughter’s memory upon the mountain, and Kwan Yin’s soul went to become one with the Buddha. Though her purity meant that she was worthy of the bliss of Nirvana, she was overwhelmed by the cries of the suffering creatures of earth, and decided to remain between the worlds to aid all sentient beings in need until all were freed from suffering.

She is often invoked to restore balance and harmony and feed the soul with kindness and mercy. She is known for appearing in dreams to those in need of spiritual healing, and is described as “She Who Hears the Cries of the World.” Another title she bears is “The Jewel of the Lotus”, that fairest blossom which springs forth from the deepest mud and symbolizes the unfolding of wisdom. In light of her ability to transform even the underworld, this is a fitting tribute to the fragrance of compassion to transform any suffering and the power of goodness to redeem any evil. In keeping with Buddhist practice, her six syllable mantra is commonly chanted in Sanskrit: Om mani padme hum (“Praise be the jewel within the lotus”), seeking spiritual enlightenment through her example of redemption through forgiveness.

Countless other variations of divine femininity can be found across the cultural expanse, including the Mother Goddess Gaia from Greek mythology, who is often represented in modern New Age and environmentally conscious spiritual circles as a pregnant woman bearing the earth in her belly. She is seen as a figure of female continuity, that “circle of women” that goes on through a woman’s bodily cycles, from mother to daughter, joined together forever through the sacred portal of the womb. To the Christian mind, this cannot help but stir up images of Mary, patroness of all women who bear the seed of new life within them through pregnancy. This being as it is, it is fitting that Mary’s Greek title as Theo Tokos or “God-Bearer”.

The Sacred Feminine in Judeo-Christian Tradition

     From my own Catholic (and I would add universalist) perspective, depictions of the divine feminine across the grand sweep of time and space are both fascinating and quite frequently edifying to obtain a more nuanced view of the attributes of God. However, there are still two key points which orthodox Christians must acknowledge within their own tradition: firstly, that Jesus Christ is the incarnate God-Man, the Second Person in The Blessed Trinity, who took on a human nature and an accompanying male gender; and secondly, that He repeatedly referred to His Father in the masculine, as beautifully and tenderly demonstrated in both The Lord’s Prayer and the Parable of the Prodigal Son.

For all that these points may seem to imply, I believe it is profoundly wrong for men to feel any sense of superiority over women on this account. God is God, outside of our boxes, capable of hovering the divine presence over all peoples of the earth in different forms to different extents. If it had been according to divine plan, the Christ might just as well have come among us in the feminine. However, I as a Christian woman am fully content that He came in the masculine. While I make no pretense to understand the mind of God, there are some very valid reasons that come to mind as to why this makes the most sense.

First, the ancient Jewish society from whom the Messiah was destined to come forth was predominately patriarchal and would most likely never have been able to accept such a revelation from a woman. Their sacred prophecies all spoke of the coming of the Son of David and the Prince of Peace, reestablishing a stable reign and continuing the royal legacy of their deposed earthly kingship. But second, and perhaps more importantly, there is deep theological significance in God incarnating as a man…or should I say the Man.

The story of the Incarnation starts when the Holy Spirit overshadows the Blessed Virgin Mary as the ultimate life-giving force. This can be interpreted as the Masculine embrace of the Feminine, mirroring human sexuality in the spiritual plane, as experienced by many mystics such as Catherine of Sienna and Teresa of Avila, in which God becomes the “lover” of the soul. In this light, all our souls are to some extent feminine in that they are loved into new life by the masculinity of the Christ, the New Adam, who restores our human nature, wounded sorely by sin, through grace. He is the Hound of Heaven pursuing us, even into our deepest depths, to bring us home to Himself, as depicted in the famous poem by Francis Thompson:

Is my gloom after all,
Shade of His hand, outstretched caressingly?
‘Ah, fondest, blindest, weakest,
I am He Whom thou seekest!
Thou dravest love from thee, who dravest Me.’

This is also brought to the fore in the concept of the strength of the masculine laying himself down to death on behalf of the beauty that is the feminine through Christ’s death to ransom humanity, acting as a lover pouring out his strength to ransom his beloved. This is the crux of the chivalric ideal, and the Church is portrayed as a lady, not unlike the lady who watches her son suffocating on the tree, and who is given to the beloved disciple as a mother and help of all Christians, “now and at the hour of our death”. It also reflects the inverse attributes of female strength standing strong as male beauty is stripped and shattered upon the cross.
But on the other hand, Jesus was also known to make reference to His own attributes with decidedly feminine comparisons: “Jerusalem, Jerusalem, you who kill the prophets and stone those sent to you, how often I have longed to gather your children together, as a hen gathers her chicks under her wings, and you were not willing.” (Matthew 23:37)

This is reminiscent of yet another verse, this time from the Old Testament which, although it came forth the largely patriarchal ancient Israel, still tended towards feminine language when trying to describe the devotion and mercy of God: “Can a mother forget the baby at her breast and have no compassion on the child she has borne? Though she may forget, I will not forget you!” (Isaiah 49:15)

From a Catholic sacramental viewpoint, there is a certain feminine element of the Eucharist, the bread and wine believed to be transubstantiated into the Body and Blood of Christ during the consecration at the height of the mass. Mary is also mystically present there, as she is the one who fully gave her flesh and blood to Christ, who had no human father. Some believe this to be corroborated by the Shroud of Turin, which is said to reveal human cells only deriving from the female, though the image is that of a male.

Beyond that, the act of Jesus giving us His flesh and blood for our nourishment found at the Eucharistic Table can also be seen as a form of mothering. Indeed, some Bible verses make it sound strikingly similar to the breastfeeding, particularly in the injunction, “This is My Body. Take and Eat.” An even more direct reference runs as follows: “Like newborn babies, long for the pure milk of the word, so that by it you may grow in respect to salvation, if you have tasted the kindness of the Lord.” (1 Peter 2:2)

Also, in Christian art, the symbol of the mother pelican piercing her breast to feed her young has commonly been associated with the sacrifice Jesus made by shedding His blood for humanity. After all, it has been said that a mother’s love is strong enough to carry all the world; surely this also could include bringing that world into being and sacrificing oneself on its behalf?

While on the subject of life-giving blood, it is women who prepare for new life through their menstrual cycles. Although this natural occurrence within the female body tends to viewed as something embarrassing or shameful, making women unclean or imbalanced, many indigenous cultures take another view entirely and celebrate the coming of a girl’s first cycle with various rituals and festivities. It is a sign that the Circle of Life shall continue forward into the future. Equally so, Christians believe that the shedding of Christ’s blood enabled us to be reborn through sacrificial love and sanctifying grace that we might know life in abundance.

Touching upon another sacrament, Baptism is often made to be analogous with birthing waters: “Unless a man be born again of water and the spirit, he cannot enter into the kingdom of God” (John 3:1, 5). Catholic teaching also affirms Baptism by Blood and Baptism by Desire, meaning that this imparting of grace is not constricted merely to a formula, but also grounded in intent and action. This can be found either in the shedding one’s blood through martyrdom (either for Christian faith or perhaps for the sake of “the least of these”, laying down one’s life out of self-sacrificial love) or by living with sincere intent towards seeking out the truth and living a life according to the principles of love and virtue. As with baptismal water, are not women often associated as both the source of life-giving blood and the object of life-stirring desire?

St. Julian of Norwich sums up her own thoughts on both the mothering and fathering aspects of the divine in beautiful Trinitarian language that also captures the masculine power of Christ contained within the feminine power of Mary:

“This fair and lovely word ‘mother’ is so sweet and so kind in itself that it cannot truly be said of anyone or to anyone except of Him and to Him who is the true Mother of life and of all things. To the property of motherhood belongs nature, love, wisdom, and knowledge, and this is God. For the almighty truth of the Trinity is our Father, for He made us and keeps us in Him. And the deep wisdom of the Trinity is our Mother, in whom we are enclosed. And the high goodness of the Trinity is our Lord, and in Him we are enclosed and he in us. So our Lady is our mother, in whom we are all enclosed and born of her in Christ, for she who is mother of our saviour who is mother of all who are saved in our saviour; and our saviour is our true Mother, in whom we are endlessly born and out of whom we shall never come.”

There is also a long-standing tradition of referring to Holy Wisdom in the feminine. In Hebrew she is called Chokhmah, in Greek Sophia, and in Latin Sapientia. In the Old Testament, she is referred to as an object of meditation: “Happy is the person who meditates on Sophia, who reflects in one’s heart on Sophia’s ways and ponders her secrets, pursuing her like a hunter, and lying in wait on her paths.” (Sirach 15:20–22)

Sophia is described as being present at the beginning of creation, a beautiful figure who proceeds forth from the Holy One before the first dawn arose: “When there were no depths, I was brought forth. When God established the heavens, I was there playing before Him all the while” (Proverbs 8:24, 30).

Not unlike the Magnificat of the Blessed Virgin Mary, who might accurately be called the true-born daughter of Sophia, this feminine personification of divine wisdom invites the humble of heart to share her table: “She has prepared her meat and mixed her wine; she has also set her table. She has sent out her servants, and she calls from the highest point of the city, ‘Let all who are simple come to my house!’” (Proverbs 9:2-4)

Sophia is described as a mother, a teacher, a counselor, a fine mist, more precious than jewels, and the tree of life. She is “the breath of the power of God, a pure emanation of the glory of the Almighty, a reflection of eternal light, a spotless mirror of the working of God and an image of His goodness.” (Wisdom 7:25–27)

She is said to seek us out in order to bring about spiritual transformation, yet she is also a figure of sacred mystery. We ourselves are called upon to seek her from within: “The first person did not finish discovering about her nor has the most recent tracked her down; for her thoughts are wider than the sea, and her designs more profound than the abyss” (Sirach 24:28–29).
In a similar vein, the medieval mystical writings of the Jewish Kabbalah make reference to the Shekinah, which means the indwelling of the presence of God in this world, and is decidedly feminine in depiction.

Interestingly, Leonard Nimoy created the Vulcan Salute for Mr. Spock from Star Trek based on a hand gesture used during the rabbinic blessing, when the Shekinah is said to pass through the synagogue. He later embarked upon a photography project controversially involving nude women models holding Jewish ceremonial objects to highlight the presence of the divine feminine with Kabbalist writings as its reference point.
The Kabbalah itself describes the Shekinah thusly: “There are two aspects to the female…one when she is contained initially in the male, and the second when she is separated from him and he gives her the crown of strength….” (‘Ets Chayim 10:3)

According to the Kabbalist version of creation, En Sof is the Source of all things, both everything and nothing, full of potential yet nothing manifested, with no beginning and no end, neither masculine or feminine, but still both at the same time. In order for the creation process to begin, En Sof had to withdraw from Itself to allow the potential to actualize, a contracting process dubbed Tsimtsum. As this withdrawal place, the Shekinah remained to become a primordial vessel through which the essence of En Sof could flow and concentrate to such a degree that the energy of creation burst forth in the Big Bang. She became the birth canal of the universe and the soul of God present to all creation, and in a sense, the soul of the world itself.

Even when Humankind fell from grace and was banished from the Garden state of union with God, the Shekinah is said to have stayed with humanity, self-sacrificially keeping us sustained through all our exiles, even though her soul was “shattered” in grief at being further separated from her spouse En Sof. It is commonly thought that the richly romantic “Song of Songs” is an allegory for this tragic separation and prophesied reunion. It is the driving desire of the universe that the two lovers should be brought back together as one, but this can only happen with our involvement, since she very truly is inside of us and makes up parts of our soul.

This hearkens to the concept of Tikkun Olam, “healing the land” or “building for eternity”, a responsibility of humanity to go beyond the self to help heal the souls of others and of all creation in preparation for the great reunion with the divine, and the coming back together of the bride and bridegroom in mystical ecstasy. The Shekinah embodies the qualities of patience, persistence, stillness, and restraint, just as a woman waits for gestation and pregnancy to take its full course before the baby can be born, and a woman mediates the birth as a midwife. When we purify our souls from the sinful dross of our being, she shows us her face and promises that renewal is at hand.

This perspective allows for God to be manifest both beyond us (referred to as “He”) and within us (referred to as “She”). It further demonstrates that we, as a people, are not God, but that we are godly, and this should bring us hope, comfort, and joy. God is present to us as both men and women, and we bear the divine image as a composite whole beyond our gender through the dignity of our humanity. As Genesis 1:27 relates: “And God created man in His own image, in the image of God He created him; male and female he created them.”

The Struggle of the Sexes

     All this having been considered at length, I believe there is ample enough room within a Catholic theological framework to appreciate both masculine and feminine elements within the Triune Godhead. The main point is not so much the genders of the persons as the relationships between them, the flow, the dance, the water-wheel of grace. Indeed, Fr. Richard Rohr uses a unique resolution, saying that the persons of the Trinity, in their conscious forms and manifestations, might be seen as masculine and the spaces in between them, consisting of pure unconscious movement and relational energy, might be seen as feminine. Perhaps the uncomfortable tension projected onto male and female presence is not to be found within God at all, but rather within the rocky gender relations within our own flawed society. It is probably a social stigma more than any substantial theological conflict.

As a result, many spiritual seekers will teeter to extremes in their interpretation, either claiming that any reference to the divine feminine is “heretical”, or alternately striking out against any male depictions of God to be oppressive. Needless to say, I view both positions to be lacking in full-bodied spiritual scope. Perhaps this is the key to moving forward from the wounds of the past in both religions and societies alike. We should be able to explore both aspects of the divine as well as we should explore those elements within ourselves. Both men and women are capable of good and evil behavior, both capable of falling prey to power struggles, and both can become significantly destabilized without the presence of the other. The tendency for men to be more physically impulsive and women more emotionally impulsive means that both are in need of stability found in the other, and in a divine homing device that brought us all into being.

That having been said, it is true that a distorted image of what it means to truly “be a man” has all too often prevailed throughout the course of history. There are many stereotypes which are foisted onto us by our culture, making masculinity synonymous with toughness and even violence. This is commonly projected through visible gestures such as guzzling down alcoholic beverages, inhaling tobacco smoke, or engaging in blood sports. They are discouraged from expressing softer emotions, demonstrating visible affection, wearing certain colors, or doing anything that might make others accuse them of being effeminate.

Unfortunately, men are too often encouraged or even lauded for abusing the strength of their bodies and turning their protective instinct into aggression. The life-giving force is transformed into self-gratifying gluttony that can tyrannize and dehumanize the feminine, physically, mentally, and spiritually as well as shaming her if she fails to live up their perverse expectations of her “true purpose”. It has resulted in the male suppression of female autonomy and self-determination, particularly in education and the marketplace. It emphasizes a one-dimensional view of women, claiming that they exist solely to serve the needs of men and bear children. But what a woman always wants, and what a woman is truly owed, is her own sovereignty. This is the answer of such questions proffered in Arthurian riddles. Only after the knight realizes this will he ever win the love of his lady.

Women defy stereotypes and are multi-faceted in their attributes, abilities, callings, and dreams, as reflected well by various recent icons from popular culture. Wonder Woman, based on the goddess Diana from Greek mythology, demonstrates both her unmatched fighting prowess as an Amazon and her deeply intuitive empathy for those suffering the human cost of war. Katniss Everdeen from The Hunger Games also shows the path of a female soldier, adapting a type of nurturing toughness to survive the gladiatorial arena and the field of battle without losing her humanity. Eowyn from The Lord of the Rings combines her destiny to defeat the witch king with a willingness to be healed through the love of another, equally scarred by trauma. Lily Evans Potter from Harry Potter demonstrates the depth of mother’s love, which lives on in her son’s very skin after she sacrifices her life for him, and in doing so, paves the way for the overthrow of the dark lord Voldemort.

There are many other examples of multi-dimensional femininity from history, literature, and cinematography that show women are more than capable of saving the day in their own right and shining their own unique light on a troubled world. But sadly, all too often the glow has been smothered by those who refuse to see, either pressuring women to be submissive and demure or by making them feel that they must become the same as men in order for them, their talents, and their counsel to be taken seriously.

A folktale from the Lincolnshire fens tells how the lady moon fell down into the bog, and her light was drowned out for many years, making it a terrible place indeed. The moon has long been a symbol of womanhood, the subtle, sacred light in the contemplative darkness, the inner secrets of knowing and being based on the cycles of waxing and waning, both in body and spirit, the mysteries of maiden, mother, crone, life, death and rebirth. The bog, the black heart of the underworld, tries to swallow up the light of womanly freedom and giftedness. But it too is made of the moist and sticky center that resides within the feminine genius, sustaining what it might otherwise entomb. And in this story, it is the men of the land who set out to rescue the lady moon, and free her from the bog to return to her throne in the night sky, lighting their land once more.

The real proof of manhood is not that of suppressing the other, of a proclivity for smoking or drinking, or an embrace of violence, but rather is grounded in true strength, the same strength of the men who freed the moon from the bog. The truth remains that the single strongest thing that exists is love and the compassion that flows forth from it. It is the purest form of that which God is, and it is the necessary seed from which all other virtues grow, as well as the pinnacle of the mountain which we all should strive to climb. To love in a world too often full of hatred is the truest test of our humanity. This is what determines the soul to be the warrior, for this power always comes from within and is not merely worn on the sleeve for show.

This brings to mind one of my favorite television heroes, Kwai Chang Caine from the Buddhist-inspired classic series Kung Fu. Soft-spoken, humble, and empathetic, he is a Shaolin priest and herbal healer who defies many of the stereotypes about proving one’s manhood through vulgar displays of highhanded arrogance or an insatiable lust for conquest. Nevertheless he proves to be the pinnacle of physical and mental strength. Not only is he skilled in the martial arts, which he uses for the advancement of justice and in defense of himself and others in need, but he is also able to bear the brunt of insults and prejudice with amazing resignation. For him, the art of Kung Fu is not merely a physical activity, but rather an outward manifestation of a spiritual training in self-control. To him, the soul was always the essence of his identity as a warrior.

His strength is most often revealed through gentleness, enabling him to tread on rice paper without tearing it and walk among serpents without rousing them to attack. Out of respect for all life forms, he is a vegetarian, and to keep his mind clear, he drinks no alcohol. And yet in all these things, he comes off as profoundly masculine. Indeed, when asked what he is, he often simply responds, “I am a man.” In the areas of gentle strength, sacrificial resignation, and pure masculinity, I cannot help see Kwai Chang as a Christ-like figure.

With this perspective, it is much easier to embrace the masculine aspects of God as well as the feminine, bringing both into their proper balance through a dance of polarity where the essential power is found in the movement itself. We see male and female for what they were meant to be, not bent by a warped, misogynistic, power-hungry perspective. In addition to being about bodily constructs, gender shapes our interior identity and unearths our own unique charisms. That is why, according to Catholic practice, to perform rites in persona Christi remains the prerogative of a male priesthood in keeping with Jesus Christ being male. This is fairly straightforward with no additional connotations needing to be drawn.

The Sacred Feminine in the Life of the Church

This is not to say that women should somehow viewed as being on a lower plane in Church life, and where this sort of thinking has been advanced, either as a past or present-day premise, restitution and reinterpretation is in order. We should not be locked down by historical normsthat inhibit evolution in areas of gender equity, creating harmony between the sexes so that the gifts they are given may flow in equal proportion in the life of the Church. Indeed I believe that the more women who are introduced into administrative and apostolic roles the better. The subject of deaconesses is an expansive avenue to be explored, for example, and I am hopeful that other positions and avenues will be opened going forward.

But even from a historical perspective, Christianity has had many women within its ranks who have molded, melded, and mothered their Church in truly powerful ways. Indeed, women have always been the spiritual intuitive ones, with roots sunk down deep with fullness of intention, willing to moisten the ground with their blood, sweat, and tears if need be. But our ways are all our own. Men might battle dragons with their weapons of metal, but women will tame and transform them through our weapons of spirit. Men might seek after the Holy Grail, but women are always the ones who guard it, as they guarded the magical cauldron of old.
According to Catholic doctrine, the only person aside from Christ himself to be completely full of grace and free from sin was Mary, Mother of God. Her self-emptying love and sincere humility caused her to be exalted as Queen of Heaven and Earth, blessed among all women and the most highly honored member of the human race aside from the God-Man Jesus Christ.

Many even consider her co-redemptrix of humanity because of her uniquely intimate sharing of the suffering of her Son on the cross. This emphasizes not just that she is “meek and mild”, but that she is also a woman of courage and stamina, not unlike her predecessors from out of Jewish tradition such as Deborah, Esther, Judith, Rahab, and Ruth.
Her apparitions throughout the world have revealed her to be a royal, a prophetess, a guide, and a mother. She is the one who causes pillars to be transported, houses to levitate, roses to bloom in winter, healing waters to flow, and the sun to dance. But more importantly, she brings a call to prayer and repentance, to conversion and cleansing, as well as the extension of compassion upon the suffering of the world. In a vision, she told St. Faustina: “I am not only the Queen of Heaven, but also the Mother of Mercy.”

Furthermore, Church history has had no shortage of powerful female saints, mystics, visionaries, theologians, warriors, and soul-shakers of every stripe, the likes of St. Catherine of Sienna, St. Brighid of Kildare, St. Brigid of Sweden, St. Clare of Assisi, St. Hildegard of Bingen, St. Julian of Norwich, St. Hilda of Whitby, St. Teresa of Avila, Mechtild of Magdeburg, St. Joan of Arc, St. Bernadette Soubirous, St. Therese of Lisieux, St. Teresa Benedicta of the Cross, St. Faustina Kowalska, and St. Teresa of Calcutta, just to name a few. This does not even begin to delve into the plethora of female martyrs from the early Church, such as St. Agnes, St. Cecelia, St. Agatha, St. Philomena, Sts. Felicity and Perpetua, and countless others who became symbols of a stalwart commitment to keeping their hearts pure for the presence of the divine and an unshakable faith that their brutal deaths would be transformed into rebirth and resurrection through the Blood of the Lamb.

And how can we possibly overlook the singular witness of the holy women who followed Our Lord while he traveled the length and breadth of Judea, especially Mary Magdalene, a disciple in Jesus’ inner circle and the first to bear witness to his resurrection on Easter Sunday? Called “The Apostle of the Apostles”, many believe she not only shared a deeply mystical union with Christ, the same type as shared by many saints such as Sts. Francis and Clare of Assisi, but also that she embodies the relational, intuitive, particularly feminine aspect of the entire Christian experience, a flowing liquid ointment that heals wounds and light lamps through her profoundly intimate Christ encounter. The apocryphal Gospel of Mary Magdalene said that “He knew her completely and loved her faithfully.” As a Christian woman, tradition reveals a multi-faceted picture of her as understanding, independence, and faithfulness throughout her life.

It is their relationship and interaction which may be seen as a manifestation of that relational motion which is characteristic of the feminine aspect of the divine, and indeed characteristic of resurrection itself. Just as the mystics wrote of their relationship to Christ as being between “the Lover and the Beloved”, in a deeply spiritual sense, so it is all the more fitting for Mary Magdalene, who truly was present to Jesus while he walked the earth. This would be a form of Anam Cara, that inner or soul friendship which is sadly looked down upon between men and women in our tabloid sensationalist and unhealthily over-sexualized culture. But perhaps this type of bonding between the feminine and the masculine is exactly what society needs to grow past our dehumanizing polarization and mutual distrust of the other.

Through the inner workings of initiation, introspection, preparation, and direct knowing, Mary Magdalene is believed to have sought union with the Divine, “choosing the better part” by opening herself to his wisdom teachings and embracing her beloved’s bloody feet beneath the cross. She finds her God through sensitivity and sensuality, in the truest spiritual meaning, through a holy embrace of revelation through the senses. She represents the feeling world, in discovery, loss, and renewal. Mary Robins writes of her connection to Christ:

May the wine of the Divine Feminine
be created in you,
as it was in Christ,
as it was in Mary of Magdala.
Her beloved died.
Her desire for Him,
and her newly healed self,
descended to ferment.
May the wine of the Divine Feminine
flow through you,
as it flowed through Christ,
as it flowed through Mary of Magdala.
She knew Him still
in her own separateness,
and from her depths
new wine rose.
May the wine of the Divine Feminine
send you forth,
as it helped send Mary of Magdala.
They touched for a moment –
companion lovers –
and she is free to tell
‘Love is risen.’

Unfortunately, it is a tragic truth that inferiority has been projected onto women in Christian countries in past ages. This included the misappropriation of the Genesis Creation narrative, falsely emphasizing Eve’s apple and role as temptress over the wider analogies of humanity’s capacity for destructive pride and breeding an almost phobic attitude towards female sexuality as something provocatively dangerous and inherently evil. It also hung upon the dated social structures appealed to within the letters of St. Paul and other epistles, as opposed to recognizing them within their proper historical context and moving on with a broader vision from them.

Scripture should not be read in a static manner, but within the context of the Holy Spirit moving us ever forward within our own time. For example, the injunction “husbands, love your wives; wives, obey your husbands” might now be viewed from our own evolved perspective on equality within marriage to mean that husbands and wives should mutually love and respect one another. But unfortunately, sacred texts have all too often been used as fixated templates or literalist manuals in every detail.

Oftentimes, this obsessive perspective contributed not only to the suppression of human rights but also the persecution of women who were deemed not to fit into prescribed gender roles. Some of the most infamous past atrocities to come forth from the patriarchal gridlock include the witch hunts, burnings, and hangings, not to mention a bizarre fixation with cats, which were superstitiously associated with dark witchcraft, otherworldly powers, and demonic activity. Like women, they were viewed as the “other”, who prowled the darkness of the night beneath the midnight moon, and therefore, were thought to pose a threat to the powers at hand.
But for all that, the Christian world has come a long way in returning to what it was always supposed to be about: unity in diversity. After all, it was St. Paul who also wrote: “There is neither Jew nor Gentile, neither slave nor free, nor is there male or female, for you are all one in Jesus Christ.” (Galatians 3:28)

While both men and women are called to live the fullness of the Christian life with both strength and love, we each have our own unique ways of revealing it. We share so much, and yet there is still that priceless Yin and Yang factor which enables us to find equilibrium in each other’s company. That’s why it’s aptly said that behind every good man there is a good woman, and vice-versa. As biological and emotional nurturers, women have an amazing transformational power. We glory in the interpersonal. At the same time, good men have the capacity to bring out the best in women and honor their whole person, bringing foundational stability and coalescing the many threads of vision.

This complementarity is also found in Catholic teaching on the theology of the body, brought to a heightened awareness by the writings of Pope John Paul II. It maintains the goodness and beauty of male and female sexuality alike when allowed to develop with tenderness and sensitivity and exercised interpersonally within the proper context of genuine love and ideally within a lifelong, sacramentally sealed marriage with reverence for its life-giving potential. With this vision in mind, the only way to transform rape culture is to cultivate nurturance culture, which is always an act of circular self-giving on the part of men and women alike, raising their children to follow the same path.

Conclusion

     Perhaps the question of “male or female” should best be answered “the best aspects of both, and far beyond either.” Interestingly, this balances the different aspects of human interaction with the divine rather well. The divine feminine is meant to be sought after by a mystically male humanity, like the Celtic kings who mated with her and the great heroes who chased her, like Rhiannon, Welsh goddess of horses and the moon, riding across the countryside faster than any mortal steed might go, only stopping for Prince Powell when he abandons his pride and requests it graciously of her. The divine masculine, on the other hand, is meant to pursue and embrace a mystically female humanity, as the Hound of Heaven and the Christological lover, bringing to the fore the Catholic mystics who underwent the path of a sacred marriage with God, accomplished within.

    Perhaps we, as humanity, both seek after and are sought after in turn, being purged by the Fire of the Holy Spirit (which could be seen as more masculine) and nurtured by the fruits of the Holy spirit (which could be seen as more feminine). Maybe it is for us to learn how to balance our own souls in the cultivation of both male and female elements, so that we might have greater appreciation for and union with the divine presence in our religious practice.

     Using a final analogy, God may be like the Japanese understanding of a samurai’s sword, infused with the strengths and beauties of men and women equally, a manifestation of both efficiency and artistry, believed to contain the essence of the soul. And like that sword, each one of us, male and female, has been forged over the fires of love to reflect that incomparable image and likeness. It is our eternal destiny to draw closer to our source through our own unique gifts, hero/heroine journeys, and pilgrim paths.

     But when all is said and done, these attempts at explaining the unexplainable are ultimately exercises in perception of a God who is beyond any labels humanity may be capable of devising. We use analogies, a diverse array of them, many of which have their own unique worth and validity, and yet we much never worship them. They are only as much worth as they are able to put our spirits in touch with their source. While revelation, tradition, and mysticism can all lend us glimpses of the Ultimate Reality, in the end, perhaps it is the mystery of the Divine that is the most poignant reality. If it were not so, God would not be God.