Our Father who art in Heaven

“Our Father who art in Heaven”.  This is the beginning line of my favorite prayer. The tradition of this prayer is to call on God in the male form.  In fact, for most of my life, I saw God as a male parent,  though I've also heard God refered to as male royalty and also of course  the voice in my head that I hear is the booming voice of James Earl Jones.  God the father weaves in and out of most of the prayers and liturgy that I participate in.  I know the argument for why we say ‘he’ by heart: either we use it to mean ‘he and she’ or just because it’s easier or because it’s an antiquated, beautiful language, dictated by God HIMself.  Of course there is also the also feminist argument that God is a woman - black woman, in fact.  And won’t the conservative evangelical preachers be surprised when they get to Heaven and see her.  My mom used to murmur, “Our fathermother who art in heaven” quietly to herself when we read the Lord’s prayer In church.  She was speaking from the feminist wave in the 70’s, and I am well-acquainted with the traditional feminist arguements about God as a woman.  My 90’s feminist womyn’s view tells me to view God through the lens of historical ancient goddess worship and other female-centric religions throughout history.  A male god subjugates the feminine earthspirit, etc. etc.

The thing is, even with all my knowledge and background, I see in my heart and in my head, God as a man.  A father-figure to pray to and to understand me.  Specifically, Michael Landon in Little House on the Prairie comes to mind.  Or did.

The following passage – which I have heard a thousand times – changed God's voice for me:

“In those days, Jesus came from Nazareth of Galilee and was baptized by John in the Jordan.  And just as he was coming up out of the water, he saw the heavens torn apart and the Spirit descending like a dove on him.  And a voice came from heaven, “You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased”

~Mark 1:9-11

Normally,  in the movie of the Bible in my head, this is the part where James Earl Jones says in his best Mustafa from Lion King voice, “this is my son”.  However, these are not the words of actions of a Lion King.  This is a Mama Bear.  In fact, "Mama Bear God" TORE open the heavens to point her dovey finger down and shout “THAT’S MY BOY!!!  THAT’S HIM!!”  and then she calls him “my beloved”.  That is what I call my daughters when I call them my baby-boo.  That’s what you call someone you want to snuggle, stroke their forehead and give neverending kissies to.  This exchange between God and God’s son is, among other things, a parent screaming ‘way to go, son!’.  As a woman and as a mother, I understand this.  Does that mean that God is a mother?  The feminist view was correct?  No.  I know Dads that are just as clamourous to claim their Baby-boos.  Dads that are tender and would tear open heavens to softly but insistently let everyone in the room know this is their special lovey-lamb.  It’s not the pat on the head, “you have obeyed, thank you little man, now go to bed” disciplinarian God-dad that traditionalists would have us believe.  True, God the father has already been touted and envisioned in liturgy and the Bible, but this is a different kind of parent.  A parent acting out of pure love and a child’s buouy in this sea of chaos.

Here’s what I think: This all is beyond gender.  Gender is a human-made designation. God is God.  God as the Holy Spirit is God as GOD on the Earth.  On the other hand, God as Jesus is God participating fully with the human experience as a human (or humyn, to give a nod to my feminist sisters).  Jesus was a man on the earth, not a woman, which always used to hang me up – why couldn’t he have been a woman?  Why couldn’t he have been married?  If you follow that through ot it’s logical extension though, why couldn’t Jesus have been gay and straight and abused and whole and shy and outgoing, etc, etc,  Jesus can’t be everything everyone has ever been and still have an authentically human experience.  I don’t have to cut my head and get stitches to actually feel the same pain that my daughter felt when she fell and hit her head – knowing exactly how to be calm in the way she needed while I was exploding with worry inside.  There are a thousand examples from a thousand parents, though I am not saying that a person has to be a parent to understand this empathy, because I also don’t have to go through a miscarriage to listen to a friend’s tormented experience and walk with them during that time – be there and and feel for them with my whole heart – my whole being .  However, AS a parent, Jesus’ commandment to love one another resonates with me.  It’s also not an unattainable goal because I have experienced this kind of love with my children.  However, my gentle challenge is to do this for the rest of the human race.  Others may feel differently: they give to the world’s people, but feel alienated from their own family, for example.   God made us all deliciously interesting and unique whackadoodles, whom God loves with a force in it’s purest form.  The point is what it always boils down to in the Bible and with what Jesus tells us: Love.  This is always the right answer.  I see no love in the Disciplinarian style parent-God who happens to be a man.  I do see love in the God that is the parent in me.  This is because God IS in me.  I am created in God’s image to love.  And so are you.