Clearly, Nouwen reminds us that we need both masculine and feminine imagery when we speak about God. I was challenged right at the beginning of my seminary formation to begin using "inclusive language" for God-talk. At first, I really did not like using words like "Godself" in writing papers for class. I was able, though, to move past this. I remember having a conversation over inclusive language with my parents during the first Christmas break--my father refused to give in!
Why are we afraid to see God as feminine? Do we lose something by the reference? Quite the opposite, I believe. "Expansive language" is more cutting edge these days, expanding the adjectives and metaphors for describing God. We lose far more when we limit God and Godself to being simply male. "There is no longer Jew or Greek," writes Saint Paul, "there is no longer slave or free, there is no longer male and female; for all of you are one in Christ Jesus" (Eph. 3:28). Put into the positive, there is both Jew and Greek, there is both slave and free, and there is both male and female in Christ. Paul understands that the distinctions are exploded in the risen Christ. And yet, we are still afraid to loosen our masculine grip on God.
Having had both parents in my life as a child, I saw clear distinctions between the roles of mother and father. My father was the busy bank executive who did what he could to spend time with me and my brother--coming to the baseball games, Scout camp-outs, and the annual father-son fishing extravaganza. Dad was everything that you would expect in a fatherly role. Mother, too, filled the womanly role. She was the one who cooked, cleaned, and also worked full-time outside of the home. When you put the two parenting roles together, everything was covered. Separated, my mother was the one who, more often than not, spent time listening to me and encouraging my creative side. I was always close to my mother, and now in my adulthood, I am growing closer to both parents. My mother never used guilt to force my hand in a decision. On the contrary, she excessively worried for me over the decision! And still does, bless her heart.
Growing up, I felt as though both mother and father helped expand my view of the world by offering unconditional love and support. When I fell, and I did quite often, they helped me get back up and examine where things went wrong. They never protected me from the world, but rather let me see and feel my own way in it. They were always a few steps behind me, just in case.
God as Father fits the mold of my childhood; my theology was shaped by the roles my parents filled. God as the bread-winner and busy executive. God as the person that needs a drink at five o'clock following a hard day of meetings, and so forth. It was harder to accept God as the cook, God as the laundry lady, and God as the healer of all the scratches and cuts. But it works, doesn't it? It makes sense that God fills both parenting roles. God certainly can fulfill both roles.
Our Father and Mother, who art in heaven. . .
"This is why Christians engaged in the work of social justice need to cultivate an inner spiritual life centered in prayer and quiet reflection. This is indispensable for a public life of debate, action and complex relationships. When I became a Freedom Rider in 1961 and, following the example of Martin Luther King, opposed the Vietnam War—which included participation in a Peace Mass inside the Pentagon—I sometimes neglected my inner spiritual life because of the pressure of immediate demands. At such times I veered toward self-righteousness and became shrill and angry.
