Funny Story

by the Rev. Katherine Bush 

After about sixty of us watched the Philadelphia Eleven documentary about the eleven women who were the first ordained to the priesthood in the Episcopal Church, I shared a story I learned only recently about that occasion.

As the women and their supporters were lining up to process into the Church of the Advocate on that July day in 1974, they heard a roar from the crowd of almost two thousand who had gathered in the nave and were spilling out onto the street outside the church. None of them knew what to make of the noise, but the Rev. Paul Washington, rector of the church and host to this momentous liturgy, came in to meet them with a grin on his face. He told those in the processional line what he had told the congregation …

If a doctor tells a woman that she will give birth to a child in October, but the woman goes into labor in July, it is the doctor who is wrong, and the mother and the baby who are right. He then asked the congregation to stand and sing the opening hymn, “Come, Labor On.” 

The roar that the women had heard was a roar of laughter.

I am so glad to have learned this story. I have learned much this summer in preparation for our celebration of the fiftieth anniversary of women’s ordination in the Episcopal Church. I learned a lot preparing for our four-week series about women in scripture and ministry. I learned, as always, even more from those of you who showed up to join in those discussions. I learned from my female and male clergy colleagues as we collaborated in dialogues and informal gatherings. I learned new details from the emerging oral histories about this pivotal moment. All of it has shaped and reshaped my mind and heart, and throughout this season of remembering, I can share that I have felt somehow different as I have climbed into Calvary’s pulpit or stood behind our altar.

And the reason that I’m particularly glad to have learned this anecdote from the vesting room or hallway of the Church of the Advocate is that I am so glad to know there was laughter on that day. I know there was anxiety, and anger, and hope, and relief. I know there were speeches (for and against during the service) and prayers and anthems. And I’m just delighted and moved to know that on that capacious day, there was room for a pointed story and a corny church joke in the middle of a solemn liturgy, some laughter, and the lift and light and cheer that comes with it.

May we seek out and celebrate joy amid all that is serious in our days.