Category Archives: Stories

Brigit’s Church on Town Mountain Perch

by Sandra Rippetoe ©2021
for Unitarian Universalists – 1st and 6th U.U. Sources

Once upon a time in the land of Nature’s-Rhyme-and-Reason
a woman named Brigit had once been called “heathen.”

She didn’t find God in a church building.
Her God was in Nature.  Brigit was unyielding.

On Sunday mornings when people worshiped in church,
you could find Brigit on Town Mountain Perch.

As people sang praises to their masculine God three,
she revered Ancient Mother and spirits in Trees.

The townspeople prayed. They feared for her soul.
“Won’t she end up in hell . . . like the scriptures foretold?”

The minister explained, “God loves but has fury.”
Brigit quipped, “Your God’s mean! What a terrible story!
I can’t worship that God. He doesn’t make sense . . .
all love and forgiveness, then vicious intents.
Your God torments sinners for eternity’s time?!
How absolutely awful!  Where’s the sublime?
Does he not use power of love to transform?
With time on his side, cannot evil he charm?
I’ll stay with my Goddess who lives in the Trees.
She’s very kindhearted towards all whom she sees.”

The preacher got pushy. What else could he do?
He believed in his God and thought Brigit should too,
“You are misguided. Your ideas are wrong.
Our scripture contains nature verses and songs.”
He got out his bible and found hymns and psalms,
“You need to read this. You’ll find these words calm.”

His pressure didn’t work. This is what Brigit said,
“Please keep your doctrine. I’m already fed
by a Mother so ancient growing out of the ground.
She moves over the land, not making one sound.
Though her heart’s breaking her intentions are pure.
You’d think there’d be rage from centuries immured.
You know who she might be? Sophia is one name.
She’s Life Giving Wisdom.  She doesn’t get blamed – –
like your Eve in the bible – – for the fall of mankind.
Do not men’s aggressions lead to war, strife, and binds?
And are they not the source of your punishing God?”
She then began walking but turned, with a nod,

“I’ll be up Town Mountain sitting high on my perch.
I’ll sing with the Birds while you sing in your church.
I’ll watch Butterflies dance. Their spirits are no less
than Dandelion flowers in the Grass where I’ll rest.”

He declared her a pagan but chose not to despise
since his own ancient past shone bright in her eyes.