Call me Father?

I remember the first time I heard the word from someone using it to address me. It was a little old lady calling over to the newly ordained Deacon at St Paul’s Cathedral in the Diocese of Huron. I remember being startled by it and looking over my shoulder expecting to see Bill Cliff or Mike Bechard behind me, thinking she couldn’t be addressing me. I told her how I wasn’t quite a priest yet, and she’d have to hold off a few months.

I’ve always received the title affectionately, and lovingly, and as a sign of respect – especially from those who could quite easily be my grandparents. But it was almost right from my first year in ministry when I began to hear female colleagues talk about their disempowerment by the use of the term almost exclusively designated for male clergy, and how they were made to feel second class by too many in the pews. I’ve always gently pushed back against this with the argument that “Father” is not superior to “Mother” and female clergy were always welcome to use the term, “Father” or “Mother” or “Pastor” as they so choose.

However, I’ve come to realize how flippant that response really is.

Systemic problems don’t get solved with flippant or dismissive or unsacrificial answers. They get solved when people in positions of privilege stop and listen to what a group of people who don’t share their privilege are saying.

Although I don’t believe the term “Father” is inappropriate for any priest – male, female or non-binary – it is no longer a term that I will choose to use for myself (and will gently refuse) when addressed. The truth is, God has always known me as "David", and regardless of whether my title begins with “The Reverend…” or not, I’m good with everyone knowing me the way God does too.

If you’ve lost me from social media lately, it’s because there was a lot more “fathergiff” in my online presence than I realized.

Here’s the cleanup:

Twitter: @giffontheway
Instagram: @giffontheway
Facebook: /giffontheway