Rev. Dr. Kate Winters
I’ve had many images and understandings of God in my lifetime. Like many, I began with the stereotypical ancient man in the clouds. I remember the day he came alive for me. I was about six when Sister Joseph at Holy Family School asked me to give a little welcoming speech for the bishop who was coming to bless a new wing of the building. Now, I did not know what a bishop was, but I knew something big was happening as the nuns were all aflutter for weeks before the event.
The day of the celebration came and despite all the Blessed Mother statues displayed in the windows of the convent to assure good weather, the rain came down harder than I ever remembered, then or since. The few young priests were running around in bathing suits bailing out the school basement, proving that they did have bodies under those vestments. A bit scandalous.
I was prepared at home, dressed in a baby blue fluffy gown embroidered with daisies and a little daisy crown placed on my very blond head, white patent leather shoes and white gloves completing the outfit. When we got to the school, my father scooped me in his arms to carry me up the many stairs to the main entrance as the rain poured down. He put me down in the lobby that was abuzz with school faculty, news reporters, and parish priests in more appropriate attire.
At the appointed time, a space was cleared and I was placed in the middle of it. Then the principal’s door opened. Out stepped a very tall magisterial figure dressed in a gold and white robe, a golden mitre on top of his head, with staff in hand. I remember the moment clearly. I took a startled step back and whispered “It’s God…”
I must have been put on remote control. “Your excellency, we here at Holy Family School are so pleased that you have honored us by coming…” That’s all I remember. That and the flashing of light bulbs as I was directed numerous times to kiss the ring on God’s finger as the soaked cameras failed.
At the time, I was taught that kissing this ring offered an “indulgence,” a certain number of days or years off your time in purgatory for atonement of your sins. I’m sure I’ve used up my allotment by now, if only for the fact that after much work and stuggle, I finally smashed that particular image of God. Many have since replaced it.
For the last few years, I have preached about God as the great broken-open heart of the cosmos. I’m curious to find what my upcoming heart bypass surgery will teach me about that. I’ve learned that the body has wisdom the mind only catches up with later.
Dwelling in Presence 