My Master of Divinity thesis was on the Roman Catholic Church’s violence against the native Filipino women as a colony of Spain for over 300 years. It focused on the demonization of female priestesses called babaylans who held a leadership role in the cultural life of the people and who were respected alongside the males who led in the political and economic life of the community as datus and pandays. Babaylans were midwives and healers, matchmakers and ritual leaders; they determined when to plant and to harvest; and when to go to war and make peace. As a member of her community, her knowledge about their shared life facilitated peace and harmony. Her experiences as a daughter, sister, mother and wife, gave her wisdom in life that could not be found in books. She is trained by an older babaylan and is tested for her ability to connect with the gods and to respond to the needs of the people. When the Spanish missionaries came, they viewed the babaylans as ‘soldiers of the Devil’ and the rest of the natives as heathens and pagans. It was a holy confrontation and not a holy conversion as the natives resisted and struggled to hold on to their own native spirituality. The Spanish missionaries demonized the babaylan, all her life-giving qualities were inverted, and they created stories about the manananggal. The manananggal was a woman witch who sucked fetuses from the bellies of pregnant mothers, was a cannibal who had to eat all the members of her family to obtain her full powers, and was an ugly woman who deceived males by appearing to be beautiful before she ate them. All these were an inversion of the babaylan’s qualities as midwife, as a well-loved and respected leader of her family and her community, and a beautiful woman who embodied fertility, leadership, empowerment and freedom. The Roman Catholic Church wrested the power, freedom and dignity of the babaylan and the Filipino women and soon after, the women were at the bottom of the hierarchy where God was at the top, followed by the Church, the Spanish Government, the Spanish people, and the Filipino males. Today, in the Roman Catholic Church all over the world, there is still an all-male priesthood. Today, in the United Methodist Church, while there are tokens of females in leadership, it is still a male-dominated church. After a seminary education that has made me irreversibly feminist, I have felt tortured in church communities that continue to marginalize women and girls in their prayers, sermons and proclamations. At the center of this is the belief that God is male. And when God is male, the males are gods.
Jurgen Moltmann’s discourse in “The World of the Trinity” on how God created the world from chaos despite God’s omniscience, omnipresence and infiniteness exhibits characteristics of God that may be described as feminine. Moltmann proposed that God’s ‘self-limiting’ created a space which God did not fill so that ‘the Other’ can be created to be in the image of God but of an essence that is not absolutely God. Otherwise, God would just have created somebody like God. Through God’s self-limiting, God created ‘the Other’ with freedom, power and possibility to becoming something independent. In my earlier reflection, I already said that God in creation was like a mother who conceives and births, and raises a human so that he or she can become what they want to become. A few years ago, while sitting with the congregation and listening to a sermon on a male god who exhibited power, authority, and dominion; who demands our undivided loyalty and without whom we are nothing, I wrote this –
I am a child of the Goddess.
was imagined in many waking dreams even before I was conceived.
I was birthed with blood and tears by the Goddess as an entire community labored and awaited my coming
Many arms embraced me and many breasts nourished my soul.
Many hands raised me up when I fell down and when I was lost, many more led me home.
I heard so many voices. Some whispered sweet comfort and some cheered me on towards the goal.
And when I was ready to be on my own, they let go of my fingers and watched me with tears until I was out of sight.
I crossed rivers and climbed mountains, ran after my dreams and opened my soul to others.
I was changed and will never be the same. I birthed myself again and again.
Then the Goddess came to me in a dream. She invited me to come home and willed me to remember my beginnings.
I was afraid that she would think I was strange and send me farther away. But she said, you have come home and found your own soul.
You have discovered your own goddess within.
In articulating about a Mother God, the Goddess, there is another face of God that can be exhibited. The self-limiting God Moltmann articulated is experienced by so many mothers. Birthing a child is both a creative and arbitrary act, a powerful and restrictive moment and a life-giving and sacrificing juncture. And that is what Moltmann described in the creation process of self-limitation (or tzitzum). Unlike the ‘sovereign’ God who is always the authority, always in control and all-powerful, the Goddess creates a free Creation and an open future.
This self-limiting God also allows us to imagine a non-hierarchical and egalitarian understanding of the Trinity. The Social Trinitarianism proposed by Moltmann was developed to counter a monotheistic idea of Christianity that would validate political and clerical hierarchies and relationships of domination and control. In his discourse on the perichoresis of the Father, Son and the Holy Spirit, he deconstructs the three-pointed triangle where God, the Father, was at the top, with the Holy Spirit and the Son at the bottom. He emphasizes their relationship as relational and not hierarchical, and indwelling and in unity.
Again, I will look at the human relationship between mothers and their children. My mother, Lydia Galima, died at the age of 52 when I was only 22 years old. For the past few years, I have encountered many of her old friends and they tell me, “You look just like your mother! Even just by the way you stand and the way you turn your head…” When they hear me preach they say, “You are truly your mother’s daughter.” These words are music to my ears because I grew up wanting to be like my mother who was an educator and dean, a concert artist and a leader in so many circles. But until she died, I often felt like I will always be in her shadow. She was the greatest influence in my life and when people say I am like her, I imagine that she would be pleased with how I have become the person that I am. Reading, Matthew 3, 17 and Luke 3, 22, when God is pleased with the Son and is baptized with the Holy Spirit, I imagine the relationship of God the parent with the Son, in the relationship between me and my mother. She birthed and raised me and influenced me most of all, but we are separate persons. More importantly, she gave me the freedom to become who I wanted to be and still I was able to embody her most important characteristics.
When I gave birth to my own daughter, Lauren Francesca, I wanted to give her the ‘spirit’ of my mother. She is the one who performs and sings like my mother, the one who has the will to pursue her goals and the one whose compassion touches people’s lives. My mother and daughter have never met but I recognize that they share the same characteristics. Perhaps we three, like the Trinity, share the same characteristics. Three generations of men will exhibit hierarchy. Three generations of women, from my experience, exhibits a unity, an indwelling and equality. Moltmann’s Social Trinitarianism is a profound theological proposal that is a model for life-affirming relationships.
But let me push the theological imagination even further. From ‘God the Father’ to ‘Mother Goddess,’ can we imagine a ‘Girl God?’ The maleness of God has long been affirmed in tradition and the maleness of the Son has also been historically grounded, giving males power over females for centuries. Recently, I encountered a woman by the name of Trista Hendren who had publications for children and women. One of her first children’s books was entitled, The Girl God, which celebrated the Divine Female. After some conversations with her via the internet and her inclusion of one of my articles in her book, Whatever Works: Feminists of Faith Speak, I began reflecting more deeply on this idea of a Girl God. Then I wrote this,
If God was a girl, every girl will be treated like God
Every girl will be awaited in her coming, and her birth will be celebrated by all creation.
Every girl will be nurtured, respected and honored for her innate power.
Every girl will be spoken tenderly to and listened to whenever she speaks.
Every girl will not be insulted, slapped or hurt by a father, a brother, an aunt or her mother.
Every girl will be safe in her home and wherever she goes, and will never fear for her life.
Every girl can be a leader, an artist, a dancer, a poet, a priestess.
Every girl can have a dream and pursue it.
Every girl can say “no” and “yes” and change her situation.
Every girl will love who she loves and make decisions for her own body.
Every girl will know that she has power and empowers others whoever they may be.
So imagine God as a girl. It will change the world.
Some people will find it heretical to think about God as the Goddess and as the Girl God. But really, all our images and symbols of God are fiction. The Goddess and the Girl God are not threatening. They do, however, place females in positions males used to monopolize. But unlike males, they will not be characterized as authoritative and powerful, but as loving and empowering. Justice is first taught at home. When the home is a place where there is domestic violence, it is very challenging to create a society where there is justice. Imagining God with feminine characteristics and with a female body is necessary to transform relationships in our homes, churches and society. For me, the Mother Goddess and the Girl God is good theology.
Photo of Dalan Raquel by Dovie Raquel