Alison walked solemnly to the table covered with the snowy white cloth. Her sixteenth birthday had been celebrated exactly 8 days ago with the usual cake and ice cream, and her friends from church and school had showered her with little gifts. Amidst the piles of sparkly shower gel and earrings and colorful notebooks was a brand-new lavender leather-bound set of scriptures with her name engraved on the cover in silver script. She looked back at them now, sitting on the pew with her father and baby brother. Her father smiled widely at her, pride beaming from his face. She quietly smoothed her best church skirt, then lifted her hand hesitantly to the pristine fabric in front of her. Her hand caressed it gently, the deep blue-black of her skin contrasting sharply as she followed the contours of the water trays underneath.
Alison’s ordination to priestess had left her humbled and awed at the feeling of power she had felt during the blessing. Her mother and father had both laid their gentle hands on her head, though her mother was voice.
It was her mother that she now went to join sitting behind the sacrament table. Organ music had started playing, and the murmur of people crowding into the chapel filled the room, along with the warmth brought by the extra body heat. Alison could smell the bouquet of lilies sitting by the pulpit, its fragrance almost as heady as the sensations coursing through her. She felt nervous, exhilarated, terrified that she’d get something wrong and have to do it again, anxious to begin, and fully happy to be worthy to perform such an important rite.
She took her place carefully beside her mother, and pulled out the card with the blessing typed on it to study. She really didn’t want to have to redo it because of a silly mistake. The bishop started the meeting and Alison tried to listen to the announcements and sustainings, but couldn’t focus. Her head whirled with thoughts on power and priestesshood and the sacrifice of Christ as he knelt in agony in the garden of Gethsemane.
As the strains of the sacrament hymn filled the chapel, Alison and her mother quietly lifted up the white tablecloth and began to tear the chewy bread into bite-size pieces and fill the exposed bread trays. The song finished, though the organist played an extra verse so they would have time to finish. Finally, it was time. Alison knelt carefully, and her mother slid out the microphone for her, and she prayed:
O God and Goddess, the Eternal Father and Mother, we ask ye in the name of your Son, Jesus Christ, to bless and sanctify this bread to the souls of all those who partake of it; that they may eat in remembrance of the body of your Son, and witness unto ye, O Goddess and God, the Eternal Mother and Father, that they are willing to take upon them the name of your Son, and always remember him, and keep his commandments which he hath given them, that they may always have his Spirit to be with them. Amen.
There were tears in her eyes as she finished, but she stood up composedly and helped her mother hand the trays to the young men and women standing reverently in front of the table. She sat down, feeling drained physically, but spiritually on fire as she watched the sacred emblems being passed to the families waiting in the pews. The deacons and deaconesses and teachers lined up at the back of the chapel, and her mother stood up, offering an arm to support Alison to stand as well. The sacrament passers filed back down the aisles and handed their trays back. The water was uncovered and Alison’s mother knelt and prayed:
O Goddess and God, the Eternal Mother and Father, we ask ye, in the name of your Son, Jesus Christ, to bless and sanctify this water to the souls of all those who drink of it, that they may do it in remembrance of the blood of your Son, which was shed for them; that they may witness unto ye, O God and Goddess, the Eternal Father and Mother, that they do always remember him, that they may have his Spirit to be with them. Amen.
The solemn young women and men stood to receive the trays of water, and Alison—not bothering to fight back the quiet tears that streamed down her face—passed them with a trembling hand. She sat with her mother, and her mother embraced her.
Alison’s ordination to priestess had left her humbled and awed at the feeling of power she had felt during the blessing. Her mother and father had both laid their gentle hands on her head, though her mother was voice.
It was her mother that she now went to join sitting behind the sacrament table. Organ music had started playing, and the murmur of people crowding into the chapel filled the room, along with the warmth brought by the extra body heat. Alison could smell the bouquet of lilies sitting by the pulpit, its fragrance almost as heady as the sensations coursing through her. She felt nervous, exhilarated, terrified that she’d get something wrong and have to do it again, anxious to begin, and fully happy to be worthy to perform such an important rite.
She took her place carefully beside her mother, and pulled out the card with the blessing typed on it to study. She really didn’t want to have to redo it because of a silly mistake. The bishop started the meeting and Alison tried to listen to the announcements and sustainings, but couldn’t focus. Her head whirled with thoughts on power and priestesshood and the sacrifice of Christ as he knelt in agony in the garden of Gethsemane.
As the strains of the sacrament hymn filled the chapel, Alison and her mother quietly lifted up the white tablecloth and began to tear the chewy bread into bite-size pieces and fill the exposed bread trays. The song finished, though the organist played an extra verse so they would have time to finish. Finally, it was time. Alison knelt carefully, and her mother slid out the microphone for her, and she prayed:
O God and Goddess, the Eternal Father and Mother, we ask ye in the name of your Son, Jesus Christ, to bless and sanctify this bread to the souls of all those who partake of it; that they may eat in remembrance of the body of your Son, and witness unto ye, O Goddess and God, the Eternal Mother and Father, that they are willing to take upon them the name of your Son, and always remember him, and keep his commandments which he hath given them, that they may always have his Spirit to be with them. Amen.
There were tears in her eyes as she finished, but she stood up composedly and helped her mother hand the trays to the young men and women standing reverently in front of the table. She sat down, feeling drained physically, but spiritually on fire as she watched the sacred emblems being passed to the families waiting in the pews. The deacons and deaconesses and teachers lined up at the back of the chapel, and her mother stood up, offering an arm to support Alison to stand as well. The sacrament passers filed back down the aisles and handed their trays back. The water was uncovered and Alison’s mother knelt and prayed:
O Goddess and God, the Eternal Mother and Father, we ask ye, in the name of your Son, Jesus Christ, to bless and sanctify this water to the souls of all those who drink of it, that they may do it in remembrance of the blood of your Son, which was shed for them; that they may witness unto ye, O God and Goddess, the Eternal Father and Mother, that they do always remember him, that they may have his Spirit to be with them. Amen.
The solemn young women and men stood to receive the trays of water, and Alison—not bothering to fight back the quiet tears that streamed down her face—passed them with a trembling hand. She sat with her mother, and her mother embraced her.
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