The Pope & The Womynpriestess: A Tale of the Afterlife

by that modern day combo of Aesop & James Thurber, the 1 & only LarryD:

One day, in the afterlife....

RCWP "Bishop" Mary Martha Lazarus died and arrived at the Gates of Heaven. Standing there waiting for her was St Peter. Mary Martha approached him and extended her hand in greeting.

"Wow! I made it!" she said, reaching for Peter's hand to shake it. Peter offered his own, rather reluctantly, and winced a bit at her...aggressive grip.

"Yes, you are standing upon the threshold of Heaven. The narthex of Eternity."

"The nar-what?" she asked.

"Narthex - you know, the 'front porch', or 'portico', or entrance hall?"

"Oh, you mean 'gathering space'! I gotcha."

"Didn't you ever study Church architecture?"

Mary Martha shook her head. "Didn't feel like it. So what happens next? Do we talk about my life now, all the great stuff I did for my Church?"

"In a manner of speaking," Peter said. "Just a few things to cover. Please, follow me to the bench there next to the Gate."

"When do I get to see Jesus?" she asked.

"In a few minutes, as soon as we complete your review from the Book of Life."

The two walked, with Mary Martha slightly ahead, towards the silver and white gold Gates. Standing just to the right of the Gates was a mahogany and cedar structure that resembled a judicial bench, twelve feet tall and equally long. Mary Martha proceeded to climb the short flight of steps behind the bench.

"Ahem," Peter said, clearing his throat. "If you don't mind, that's my place. You stand in front of the bench.

Mary Martha stopped halfway up the steps, looked down at where Peter indicated for her to stand, then up at the spot where the saint intended to stand. "I don't feel like it," she said.

"What?"

"If I stand down there, then you would be looking down at me. I've worked too hard to earn the right to be equal, and not treated as a second-class member of my Church. Besides, we're both bishops. I think it's better we stand side-by-side, behind the bench, don't you agree?"

Mary Martha continued ascending the steps, and Peter followed her, his mouth set in a tight line, his brow furrowed.

Once behind the bench, St Peter reached into a drawer and pulled out a brown-leather bound book, its pages edged with gold, embossed with symbols and Latin, all in silver. He gently placed it on the bookstand atop the bench and opened it at once to Mary Martha's page.

"It is written here that you celebrated daily Mass in your home for the last 14 years of your life. Why didn't you attend Mass in a Church?"

"Oh, I didn't feel like it. I felt closer to Christ in the intimate setting of my home, with some of my closest friends. That was the way you and the first Christians celebrated the Eucharist, after all."

"Hmmm. It is also written that you failed to obey your bishop on numerous occasions, to cease and desist performing 'ordinations' of other women."

"That's true. I didn't feel that the bishop was standing on firm theological grounds - after all, I felt that I was validly ordained by a male bishop as part of the apostolic tradition of the institutional Church."

"And the ex-communication? You never had that resolved."

"I never felt that I was ex-communicated," she explained.

St. Peter slammed the book closed. "Look it - it's just 'I didn't feel like" or "I felt like" with you lot, isn't it. No appeal to reality, no consideration of the Truth! Your whole life, it's 'whatever Mary Martha wants, Mary Martha gets'. Did it ever occur to you that your salvation was dependent on something much more solid than your feelings?!?"

Mary Martha stood there, quite speechless for several moments. St. Peter's eyes flashed, his jaw clenched. Finally she spoke, her voice steady and measured.

"I'm feeling oppressed by your judgmentalism."

With a deep heaving breath, in an effort to control his anger, St Peter stabbed at a large red button set in the bench's face. In the floor in front of the bench, an opening appeared, belching black smoke and red flames, and immediately thereafter, Satan appeared, in all his grotesque hideousness.

Mary Martha turned to St Peter, her face a blubbering mass of panicked pleading. "But...but I don't understand! I did so much! I loved my Church! And...and you said I'd meet Jesus! I want to talk to Him, to try and explain! Why aren't you waiting for Him?"

St Peter opened his mouth to reply, but Satan interrupted. "Surely, you of all people ought to understand? He doesn't feel like it!"

With a flash of light and a crash of thunder, both Satan and "Bishop" Mary Martha disappeared, and the opening to the Pit of Perdition sealed shut. As the echoes of the damning boom died away, the Gates opened and Jesus walked through. He gave a sideways glance up at St Peter.

"Let me guess," He said. "Another womynpreest?"

Source: A Cautionary Tale...