This is the PREFACE to my book, “The Spiritual Feminist”. Do you have your copy? What!? No?…Click on the link in this paragraph and order your copy today. (You’re welcome.)
The only appealing part of Catholicism for me was the Virgin Mary. I know now that this was a natural attraction to the Goddess, the Divine Feminine. It was also a protective mechanism, a flinching away from the hard and fast patriarchal control and power of the male priests around me and their insistence on keeping all things feminine in what they thought of as a proper perspective, i.e. in it’s place according to their doctrine. Looking back, I can see that the nuns were also inexplicably and totally transfixed by this iconic female figure, though I don’t think they totally understood their own fixation. They spent a great deal of time emphasizing and re-emphasizing the fact that the father, son, and holy ghost were “divine”, but Mary was not.
Poor Mary, a humble human, impregnated out of wedlock, married off to Joseph, a gallant man praised for his merciful attitude to take on this mess in order to help out a woman who would be stoned to death for her condition, were it to become public knowledge. Poor Mary… “Big wheels keep on turnin’; Proud Mary keep on burnin’…”1
The father of her unborn illegitimate child was revered to the world as the God of all creation, inspired and egged-on by his androgynous sidekick, the holy ghost; and together they conspire to keep Mary right where they want her, at the bottom of the spiritual totem pole, a useful vessel, a walking womb, an attractive and appealing incubator, and a publicist’s dream.
In the end, they underestimated the power and strength of feminine spirituality; they underestimated the ingrained ancestral instinct to embrace matriarchal divinity. At the end of the day, the spiritual icon left to walk the red carpet is a little Jewish woman with her own set of prayer beads and a kick ass attitude.
Baby, the Goddess is back.