The naturally conservative side of me sometimes feels impatient with the really radical feminists who decry any aspect, any trace of what they insist is the suffocating male, patriarchal nature of the Church. But it is true, I genuinely agree, that for most of her history, the Church on earth has reserved much of the power to men, willingly accepting great and demanding ministries from its women, but still, restricting the leadership to men. Well, gentlemen, a Sunday here today to make us sit down, or sit up, and take notice, This attitude did not come from Jesus. This bias toward men did not start with him, nor was it ever characteristic of him. Gentlemen: just the opposite. When our Lord wants to get men's attention, he works a miracle, when he wants us to begin to believe he is the Messiah, he does something so showy we cannot help but notice, and be impressed, and start to wonder: "Who is, what is this?" A few fish and a crumb of bread feeds 5,000 men and they start to follow him. Partly because, as Jesus realized and noted, they ate their fill of the loaves. He gives sight to the blind, drives out evil spirits, cures the incurable and all the men of the synagogue, or village and the surrounding countryside, wonder and stare and say: "What is this then, a new teaching? And w such power and authority! We have never seen anything like this!" And they have not. But when he wants to give his message to women, when he wants to convince them, when he wants their attention and belief, he sits down with them, talks with them, reasons it all through with them back and forth, as equals. Signs and wonders and miracles for the men. Sound reasoning and quiet conversation for the women. Sorry guys. Even the stuffy grand rabbis and Pharisees and doctors of the law are impressed when dead Lazarus walks out of the tomb. But before that, he meets Martha, and they talk. Jesus reassures her that her bother will rise again, she says she knows this, and that will all happen at the last day. "No, it is happening now," Jesus quietly, calmly reassures her, and together they work out how this can be. He wonders, if, on the basis of their sensible and well-thought-out, well- expressed conversation, whether or not she believes, She says with gentleness and conviction and sweet reason: "Yes, Lord, I do believe, I believe you are the Messiah." At Mass two weeks ago, we saw the woman at the well, the Samaritan. He convinces her that he is the Messiah, the spring, the river of living water, the Savior of her and her village and the world. And this was accomplished as they were thinking and talking, just back and forth, with she, by Jesus's apparent agreement, putting it all into the context and content of what she already knows and believes. All the while as he gently and straightforwardly suggests errors or misunderstandings on her part, and together, with humor, even teasing, the two together work it all through, and she goes off at once then and tells her village what she knows. And it leads them all to salvation. The Risen Christ agrees to let Thomas touch him and see proof, nail holes, spear wounds. He tells Peter to let down the nets, and they then haul in a miraculous net-load of fish, and John at least, and alone at first, realizes that the man on the beach is, must be, the Risen Lord, and Peter jumps into the sea and swims to shore to greet the Risen Lord, convinced this is who the man there truly is, since Peter has first, of course, seen the miracle of the stunning sudden catch of fish. Then and only then the realization. When the Risen Christ meets Mary Magdalene in the garden in the first moment of the Resurrection, he speaks to her, quietly says her name, and she knows and declares he is risen and tells the disciples. Unsummoned by any accompanying, preceding miracle, rather just the passionate word of one of their women, brimming with believable truth, well, without the sign and wonder and amazement, these men, do not, of course believe her. Jesus encounters a Syro-Phoenician woman, and because she is that, a Phoenician, and not an Israelite, he will not consider healing her daughter--out of the question. Says that would be throwing bread to dogs. Now, she has not only not seen a miracle, she had been definitely denied one. But she remains, persists, modestly, gently, but assuredly continues her reasoning with him, and he too remains and stays and listens, and changes his mind And so, together, with her appealing to his fairness and mercy and sense of reasonableness in a reasonable and fair and kind way, she sways him and changes his mind and he commends her integrity and faith--adding that he has not met her equal in regard to persevering faith, even among those vaunted Chosen People, the children, the Israelites. And her daughter is healed, miraculously. It is an unforgettable scene and a stunning encounter. Now, if I do not think Jesus is prejudiced in favor of men, it is not much of an improvement to then instead switch the bias to women. The point, I am certain, must be that Jesus does, can, will, sometimes must, perform miracles for some people--it is the best approach. But he is also willing and available simply to talk, and in a very human style and on a human level and as equals, in order to reason together, listen to each other, letting us, encouraging us, to place him and our understanding of his message into our own traditions and understanding. All women and men alike, and equal, are welcome to join in this approach, whereby our Lord will come to you, speak to you, giving you reassurance, and then reason together. On the other hand, yes, at his discretion and for his purposes, he may offer a miracle that will convince us, and make us more able and eager to believe, if that is the approach that works best for you. What a gift the women of the New Testament gave us, about how best and most genuinely to approach God and let him approach us and work this through together--this appreciation of our Savior, who even now is simply sitting by the well of your ancestors waiting to speak with you, or standing by the grave of you brother, or even, yes even, when he is beside his own tomb on the very morning of the Resurrection.