Jesus shattered religious barriers by welcoming women as disciples, engaging them as theological conversation partners, and entrusting Mary of Magdala with the first proclamation of the Resurrection—therefore, the Church needs women priests to remain faithful to his example of radical inclusion.
From the beginning, Jesus modeled a discipleship of equals. He received the anointing of a woman and declared that her act would be remembered wherever the Gospel is preached. He taught Mary of Bethany at his feet—a posture reserved for male disciples. He revealed his identity as Messiah to the Samaritan woman and commissioned her, in effect, as the first evangelist to her people. In a culture that restricted women’s public religious authority, Jesus expanded it.
The question before the Church is simple: will we continue his inclusive practice?
As a bishop in the Association of Roman Catholic Women Priests, I have witnessed the Spirit alive in women who are called to priestly ministry. Our movement began in 2002 as a renewal within the Roman Catholic Church. We love our Church. We stand in apostolic succession. We celebrate Eucharist in inclusive communities where all are welcome at the table. Women’s ordination is not rebellion; it is fidelity to Jesus’ vision of a community rooted in equality and mutual service.
1. Faithfulness to Jesus’ Inclusive Discipleship
Jesus did not establish a caste of sacred males. He formed a community of disciples. The Gospels name women among his followers. They funded the mission. They remained at the cross when others fled. They were the first witnesses to the empty tomb.
If Jesus entrusted women with the Resurrection—the heart of our faith—how can we deny women the sacramental proclamation of that same mystery?
Priesthood is not about biological resemblance to Jesus. It is about embodying his compassion, his courage, and his prophetic love. Women can image Christ because Christ’s humanity is shared by all humanity.
2. The Church Needs the Full Image of God
When the symbol at the altar is exclusively male, the community’s image of God narrows. Symbols shape consciousness. If sacred authority looks only like men, then maleness becomes unconsciously equated with divinity.
Yet God is Mystery beyond gender. Scripture offers maternal and feminine images of the Divine alongside paternal ones. Expanding sacramental leadership to women expands the Church’s experience of God.
When women preside at Eucharist, preach the Word, and anoint the sick, the Body of Christ sees itself more fully reflected. The symbol system begins to heal.
3. The Church Needs Justice to Be Credible
The Church proclaims the dignity and equality of women in society. To exclude women from ordination while preaching equality creates a painful contradiction. Baptism is our foundational sacrament, and in baptism there is no hierarchy of worth.
Women already serve as theologians, pastors in practice, spiritual directors, chaplains, and leaders in nearly every dimension of ecclesial life—except sacramental leadership. The exclusion is not about ability; it is about structure.
For the Church to be credible in its call for justice in the world, it must embody justice within its own structures.
4. The Church Needs a Renewed Model of Priesthood
The crisis facing the institutional Church is not simply about a shortage of priests; it is about clericalism and power. Jesus washed feet. He did not claim privilege. He redefined greatness as service.
In our communities within ARCWP, we seek to live this servant model. Leadership is collaborative. Decision-making flows from communal discernment. The Eucharistic table is open. LGBTQ+ persons, divorced and remarried Catholics, and those long excluded find welcome.
Women’s ordination is not only about inclusion; it is about transformation—from hierarchy to partnership, from pyramid to circle, from domination to shared responsibility.
5. The Church Needs to Listen to the Spirit
Throughout history, the Spirit has led the Church beyond its comfort zones. What once seemed impossible becomes grace. The sensus fidelium—the lived faith of the people—has evolved. Many Catholics already recognize women’s calls to priesthood.
Our ordinations are acts of prophetic obedience. We stand in apostolic succession through a bishop in valid orders who courageously ordained the first women bishops in our movement. But even more deeply, we stand in continuity with Jesus’ practice of inclusion.
Rooted in Hope, Rising in Love
The Church needs women priests because fidelity to Jesus requires it.
When women stand at the altar, little girls see their own sacred worth reflected. When women preach, new metaphors for God emerge. When women serve as bishops, structures begin to shift toward shared responsibility. When women break bread in inclusive communities, Eucharist becomes what it was always meant to be—a sign of radical belonging.
This is not about replacing men. It is about partnership in the Gospel. It is about healing a wound in the Body of Christ.
Jesus began a movement of equals. The Spirit continues that movement today.
The Church needs women priests because the Church must mirror the inclusive heart of Jesus—and the Spirit is still speaking.
Joel 2:12–18 Psalm 51 2 Corinthians 5:20–6:2 Matthew 6:1–6, 16–18
“Return to me with your whole heart.” — Joel 2:12
Theme
The journey begins beneath the surface. Like a seed placed in the earth, we begin Lent by remembering that we belong to God. Ashes remind us that life begins in humility and belovedness.
Opening Reflection
We begin Lent by affirming who we are as the beloved of God.
Ashes remind us that we are made of earth — fragile, temporary, and profoundly sacred. In many spiritual traditions, dust is not a symbol of shame but of origin. We come from the soil of creation, breathed into life by Holy Wisdom. The ashes placed upon our foreheads do not say, “You are unworthy.” They say, “You are human, and you are loved.”
Too often Lent has been framed as a journey of fixing ourselves or proving our worthiness to God. But the Gospel tells a different story. Jesus begins his ministry not by striving, but by hearing the words spoken at his baptism: “You are my beloved.”
Lent begins there for us as well.
Returning to God is not a journey toward a distant judge. It is a returning home to Love itself. When we remember our belovedness, we can face our vulnerabilities without fear. We can release what no longer gives life. We can begin again.
Ashes mark not an ending, but a beginning — the courage to live honestly, tenderly, and awake to grace.
Prayer
Holy One,You breathe life into dust and call it sacred.
When we forget who we are, remind us that we belong to you. When shame closes our hearts, open us again to love. May this Lenten journey begin not in fear, but in trust — trust that nothing in us is beyond your transforming compassion. Amen.
Reflection Questions
• Where have I forgotten my belovedness?
• What am I invited to release this Lent?
Simple Ritual or Practice
Touch ashes or earth and say quietly:
“I belong to love.”
Daily Reflections (Days 1–4)
Day 1 — Beginning Again Every spiritual journey begins with honesty. God meets us where we are, not where we think we should be.
Day 2 — Sacred Vulnerability Our wounds are not barriers to grace; they are often the place where compassion grows.
Day 3 — Letting Go of Shame Love transforms more deeply than fear ever can.
Day 4 — Returning Home God is not waiting to judge us, but to welcome us.
Weekly Blessing — Blessing of Beginning
May you begin gently. May you trust that love has already begun its work in you. May this season open space for healing, courage, and hope.
ASH WEDNESDAY
Rooted in Belovedness
The Seed of Hope
Scripture — Cycle A
Joel 2:12–18 Psalm 51 2 Corinthians 5:20–6:2 Matthew 6:1–6, 16–18
“Return to me with your whole heart.” — Joel 2:12
Theme
The journey begins beneath the surface. Like a seed placed in the earth, we begin Lent by remembering that we belong to God. Ashes remind us that life begins in humility and belovedness.
Opening Reflection
We begin Lent by affirming who we are as the beloved of God.
Ashes remind us that we are made of earth — fragile, temporary, and profoundly sacred. In many spiritual traditions, dust is not a symbol of shame but of origin. We come from the soil of creation, breathed into life by Holy Wisdom. The ashes placed upon our foreheads do not say, “You are unworthy.” They say, “You are human, and you are loved.”
Too often Lent has been framed as a journey of fixing ourselves or proving our worthiness to God. But the Gospel tells a different story. Jesus begins his ministry not by striving, but by hearing the words spoken at his baptism: “You are my beloved.”
Lent begins there for us as well.
Returning to God is not a journey toward a distant judge. It is a returning home to Love itself. When we remember our belovedness, we can face our vulnerabilities without fear. We can release what no longer gives life. We can begin again.
Ashes mark not an ending, but a beginning — the courage to live honestly, tenderly, and awake to grace.
Prayer
Holy One, You breathe life into dust and call it sacred. When we forget who we are, remind us that we belong to you. When shame closes our hearts, open us again to love. May this Lenten journey begin not in fear, but in trust — trust that nothing in us is beyond your transforming compassion. Amen.
Reflection Questions
• Where have I forgotten my belovedness? • What am I invited to release this Lent?
Simple Ritual or Practice
Touch ashes or earth and say quietly: “I belong to love.”
Daily Reflections (Days 1–4)
Day 1 — Beginning Again Every spiritual journey begins with honesty. God meets us where we are, not where we think we should be.
Day 2 — Sacred Vulnerability Our wounds are not barriers to grace; they are often the place where compassion grows.
Day 3 — Letting Go of Shame Love transforms more deeply than fear ever can.
Day 4 — Returning Home God is not waiting to judge us, but to welcome us.
Weekly Blessing — Blessing of Beginning
May you begin gently. May you trust that love has already begun its work in you. May this season open space for healing, courage, and hope.
Blessing of Ashes
Loving God, You formed humanity from the dust of the earth and breathed life into creation.
Bless these ashes, that they may be signs of transformation, reminding us of our sacred origin and our call to live with compassion, justice, and hope.
May they awaken in us the courage to return to You with open hearts.
Reflection:
Ashes mark endings — but also beginnings. They remind us that from dust, God creates new life. From despair, God births hope. From brokenness, communities of compassion rise. God plants seeds of resurrection within us. The question Lent asks is simple and sacred: Will we allow those seeds to grow?
Distribution of Ashes
“Remember you are sacred dust, and to sacred dust you shall return.”
“Remember you are stardust, and to stardust you shall return. “
Ashes remind us that we are made of earth — fragile, temporary, and profoundly sacred. In many spiritual traditions, dust is not a symbol of shame but of origin. We come from the soil of creation, breathed into life by Holy Wisdom. The ashes placed upon our foreheads do not say, “You are unworthy.” They say, “You are human, and you are loved.”
Too often Lent has been framed as a journey of fixing ourselves or proving our worthiness to God. But the Gospel tells a different story. Jesus begins his ministry not by striving, but by hearing the words spoken at his baptism: “You are my beloved.”
Lent begins there for us as well.
Ashes mark not an ending, but a beginning — the courage to live honestly, tenderly, and awake to grace.
Theme: “Know You Are Beloved — and So Is Everyone Else”
Welcome:
Presider: Welcome, beloved community. Today we gather to remember and to reclaim a truth at the heart of the Gospel: we are beloved of God, and so is everyone else. In a world that often measures worth by achievement, status, or conformity, Jesus calls us back to love — the love that fulfills the law and heals relationships.
Let us take a moment to breathe, to arrive fully, and to remember that we stand on holy ground, surrounded by love. Like the Buddhist monks who have walked peacefully through cities and towns in the United States as a quiet witness to compassion and reconciliation, we gather today to walk together in the way of love.
All-loving God, You call us your beloved before we do anything to deserve it. Root us in your love so deeply that our words bring healing, our actions create peace, and our lives reflect your compassion. Teach us to see one another with new eyes, so that your love may rise among us and through us. Amen.
Liturgy of the Word
First Reading: 1 Corinthians 2:9-10
But as it is written: “What eye has not seen, and ear has not heard, and what has not entered the human heart, what the Holy One has prepared for those who love God, “this God has revealed to us through the Spirit.
For the Spirit scrutinizes everything, even the depths of God.
These are the inspired words of Paul to the Corinthians and we respond to them saying Amen.
Responsorial Psalm:Ubi Caritas
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=X9e_QO1ATho&t=15s
Second Reading: A Mystical Experience by Thomas Merton
In Louisville, at the corner of Fourth and Walnut, in the center of the shopping district, I was suddenly overwhelmed with the realization that I loved all those people, that they were mine and I theirs, that we could not be alien to one another even though we were total strangers. It was like waking from a dream of separateness, of spurious self-isolation in a special world, the world of renunciation and supposed holiness. The whole illusion of a separate holy existence is a dream. . . . This sense of liberation from an illusory difference was such a relief and such a joy to me that I almost laughed out loud. . . . I have the immense joy of being human, a member of a race in which God . . . became incarnate. As if the sorrows and stupidities of the human condition could overwhelm me, now that I realize what we all are. And if only everybody could realize this! But it cannot be explained. There is no way of telling people that they are all walking around shining like the sun. . . . Then it was as if I suddenly saw the secret beauty of their hearts, the depths of their hearts where neither sin nor desire nor self-knowledge can reach, the core of their reality, the person that each one is in God’s eyes. If only they could all see themselves as they really are. If only we could see each other that way all the time. There would be no more war, no more hatred, no more cruelty, no more greed.
These are the inspired words of the mystic, Thomas Merton and the community affirms them by saying: Amen
21“You have heard that it was said to those of ancient times, ‘You shall not murder,’ and ‘whoever murders shall be liable to judgment.’ 22But I say to you that if you are angry with a brother or sister, you will be liable to judgment, and if you insult a brother or sister, you will be liable to the council, and if you say, ‘You fool,’ you will be liable to the hell of fire. 23So when you are offering your gift at the altar, if you remember that your brother or sister has something against you, 24leave your gift there before the altar and go; first be reconciled to your brother or sister, and then come and offer your gift. 25Come to terms quickly with your accuser while you are on the way to court with him, or your accuser may hand you over to the judge and the judge to the guard, and you will be thrown into prison. 26Truly I tell you, you will never get out until you have paid the last penny. These are the inspired words of the Gospel of Matthew and we respond to them by saying Amen.
Homily: Bridget Mary
Many years ago, during a time of war and deep division, a group of Buddhist monks began walking silently through villages and cities. They walked slowly, mindfully, step by step, carrying no signs, shouting no slogans. Their purpose was simple: to walk for peace.
People who first encountered them often did not understand. Some expected speeches or arguments. Instead, the monks walked in silence, breathing together, attentive to each step. When asked why they walked this way, one monk replied, “Because peace must be lived before it can be spoken.”
As the monks passed through communities filled with fear and anger, something began to shift. People grew quiet. Some joined the walk. Others simply stood and watched. The monks were not trying to convince anyone. They were embodying another way of being — a way rooted in compassion rather than hostility, presence rather than reaction.
Their walking itself became a teaching. Peace was not an idea; it was a practice. Love was not sentimental; it was disciplined attention to how one moved in relationship with others.
A Buddhist monk recently shared the story of completing a fifteen-week walk across the United States for peace. When he finally reached his destination, people asked what he had learned from such a long journey. He answered that peace was not waiting at the end of the road. Peace was created in every step — in every moment he chose patience instead of anger, compassion instead of fear.
This wisdom echoes the heart of today’s Gospel. In Matthew 5, Jesus moves beyond rules and outward observance and invites us into something deeper. It is not enough, he says, simply to avoid harm; we are called to transform the heart itself. Not only “do not kill,” but let go of anger. Not only “do not break relationships,” but live in fidelity, honesty, and compassion. Jesus is teaching us that love is not a destination we reach once and for all. Love is a way of walking.
When we know ourselves as beloved — deeply and unconditionally loved by God — we begin to walk differently. We become more patient with one another. We listen more deeply. We choose reconciliation over resentment. Like the monk walking for peace, each small step matters. Each act of kindness becomes part of God’s healing work in the world.
This is the good news Jesus proclaims: you are beloved — and so is everyone else. From this truth flows the heart of the Gospel. Jesus calls us beyond ritual alone into reconciliation and restored relationship. He teaches, “If you remember that your brother or sister has something against you, leave your gift there before the altar and go; first be reconciled to your brother or sister, and then come and offer your gift.”
Love of God and love of neighbor are one movement of the same grace. When we live from our belovedness, peace is no longer something distant or idealized. It begins here, within us. It takes shape in our willingness to forgive, to listen, to begin again. And step by step, through our thoughts, our words, and our actions, love itself becomes the path we walk together.
In many ways, Jesus is teaching us to walk for peace — to move through our relationships aware that every word, every choice, either deepens love or diminishes it.
And this is where Valentine’s Day meets the Gospel. Love is not only something we feel; it is something we practice. It is how we walk with one another. It is how we choose kindness when anger would be easier. It is how we remember, even in conflict, that the person before us is beloved of God.
When we know ourselves as beloved, we begin to walk differently. And sometimes, without even realizing it, our way of walking becomes a quiet invitation for others to do the same.
That is how the law is fulfilled. That is how peace begins.
Communal Statement of Faith
All: We believe in God, the Source of Life and Love, who creates all people in dignity and beauty.
We believe in Jesus, who revealed God’s love through compassion, justice, and inclusion, and who calls us friends and beloved companions.
We believe in the Holy Spirit, alive in every culture and every heart, guiding us toward healing and unity.
We believe we are called to be a community of equals, living love in action, and building a world where all belong. Amen.
General Intercessions
Response: Loving God, hear our prayer.
•For the Church, that it may reflect God’s inclusive love and welcome all people as beloved…
•For communities divided by fear or anger, that reconciliation and understanding may grow…
•For those who feel unworthy or unseen, that they may know their belovedness…
•For couples, families, and friendships, that love may deepen in patience and kindness…
•For our own community, that our words and actions may bring healing…
Preparation of the Table
Presider: As we bring bread and wine, we also bring our longing for reconciliation, our desire to live truthfully, and our hope to love more deeply.
Eucharistic Prayer
Presider: Holy and loving God, you are always with us, calling us beloved. Through prophets, teachers, and companions of wisdom, you have shown us that love is the fulfillment of every law.
Epiclesis: Bless these gifts of bread and wine and bless us also, that your Spirit may awaken love within us. Make us a living body of compassion in the world.
Consecration: (Presider and All)
On the night before he died, Jesus gathered with friends, took bread, blessed it, broke it, and shared it, saying:
Take and eat. This is my body, given for you. Do this in memory of me.
After supper, he took the cup and said:
Take and drink. This is the cup of the new covenant, poured out in love for all. Do this in memory of me.
Memorial Acclamation:
Together we proclaim:
Christ has died. Christ is risen. Christ lives among us now.
Presider: Loving God, make us one in love. May this meal strengthen us to live as people who know they are beloved and who help others know it too.
Through Christ, with Christ, and in Christ, all glory and honor are yours forever.
Loving God, in this shared meal you remind us that we belong to one another. Send us forth renewed in love, ready to heal what is broken, to speak truth with compassion, and to live as your beloved people. Amen.
Gratitude, Introductions, Announcements
Closing Blessing
May the God who calls you beloved bless your heart with peace. May Christ walk beside you in compassion. May the Spirit guide your words and actions in love.
Go forth as people who know they are beloved, walking gently with one another.
