At the time when women were first ordained in the Episcopal Church, it was considered the most critical event in the denomination’s history since its founding by English King Henry VIII when he broke away from Catholicism.

Women’s equality in the church had been building for decades. In 1970, women were first seated as voting deputies at the General Convention, but when they raised the issue of women’s ordination, it was narrowly defeated. A male priest’s belittling comment that the women deputies were “bringing something the House needed desperately for a long time, some beauty,” wasn’t auspicious for overturning entrenched attitudes.

However, in 1973, when the issue was again voted down, it lost by a larger margin than in 1970. Carter Heyward, the unofficial leader of the group, recognized that after this stinging loss, something dramatic needed to be done “to crack this thing open.” Fed up with what was perceived as male bias (the church had already said there was nothing in the Bible that forbade female priests), 11 women who were deacons, in an act of civil disobedience, risking rejection by the church they loved, presented themselves as ready for ordination to the priesthood in violation of canonical law and tradition.

On July 29, 1974, at the Church of the Advocate in Philadelphia with a crowd of 2,000, three bishops ordained these women as priests. The title of the sermon preached during the liturgy was “The Priesthood of All Believers.”

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The church needed time to catch up with them. In 1975, their witness and activism led to the ordination of four more women (known as the “Washington Four”) at St. Stephen’s in Washington, D.C., all of which convinced the denomination at their 1976 General Convention to affirm the ordination of women as priests and bishops. The new, often-riveting documentary, “The Philadelphia Eleven,” charts the events that led up to this historic moment and its repercussions throughout the last 50 years.

Director and producer Margo Guernsey, who was interviewed via email by Religion Unplugged, is not Episcopalian and was raised in a congregational church. Why was she inspired to tell the Philadelphia Eleven story?

“To me this story is about anyone who has a vocation to do something and told it is not possible because of who they are. It’s about how to break down barriers with grace and be true to oneself in the process, by standing up to institutions that don’t allow all people to be who they are called to be,” she said. “This story concerns standing in solidarity with others so that we can all follow our calls, whatever they may be. I am inspired by the example these women have set, and I hope others are also inspired when they learn the history. They challenged the very core of patriarchal culture. These pioneers have taught me new ways to think about whose history is recorded and remembered, and who does the work of remembering. And they provide a vision for what a just and inclusive community looks like in practice.”

The film begins with an unnamed woman talking about the dangers of putting God in a box and making God in our own image. This opening was done intentionally by Guernsey.

“A lot of the time we accept ideas we have inherited from past generations, institutional and cultural norms. Sometime we need to challenge those ideas in order to break out of unfair structures that treat some people differently than others. ‘Putting God in a box’ … is a way to recognize how our understanding of God as male has limited our ability to create a church and society where all genders are equal. Starting the film that way communicates to viewers that the film and the people in it, are going to challenge you to think in new ways.”

Of the original 11 women, six are still alive — Merrill Bittner, Emily Hewitt, Carter Heyward, Marie Moorefield Fleischer, Nancy Wittig and Alla Bozarth — and they were interviewed by Guernsey. Since she started filming in 2015, Guernsey also spoke to the Rev. Betty Bone Schiess prior to her death in 2017 and the Rev. Alison Cheek, who died in 2019. They were all invited to share their own often poignant stories, revealing they felt a very strong call to the priesthood, rendering it too hurtful to walk away from that call, despite all the angry arguments hurled at them against possible ordination (such as “we cannot have a female rooster”). Nor would they leave the church. This common attribute of struggle and perseverance created greater solidarity among the women.

What is striking is the courage they summoned despite the continual threats of violence they faced. The FBI advised them to wear bullet-proof vests under their vestments. The procession during the ordination Mass was kept to a minimum for fear of violence. During the service, there was a loud bang so unnerving the women checked each other’s vestments for blood in case they had been shot! There was verbal harassment, and a few mentioned physical attacks against them, but they were reluctant to talk publicly about this ugliness, for fear of scaring people or preventing other women from seeking priesthood. As one of the eleven testified, “There’s a saying that you need to speak the truth even when your voice shakes. And that’s what I did.”

Some of the ordained women were banned from stepping on church property. Two priests, who afterwards allowed the ordained women to preside at Eucharist at their churches, were put on trial for disobedience. The women weren’t charged because that would have meant admitting they were in fact priests. While they sought to transform the Episcopal Church, as part of the women’s liberation movement in the 1970s, they also wanted to change the world for the better. Guernsey said, “We’re in a space now where women’s rights are starting to get rolled back (for example, abortion restrictions) and to understand the stories of the women who came before us and the shoulders we stand on, is the only way to move forward.”

The film notes that despite being ordained, many of the women found it difficult to find jobs as head rectors leading churches. One taught in a seminary, another (Carter Heyward) became a theologian, while some spent years as supply priests subbing for vacationing clergy or in churches waiting to find a permanent priest. Others became chaplains. Fifty years later, there are churches who won’t hire female priests or only allow them to be assistant or associate rectors rather than full pastors. They are also paid sometimes 20% less than their male counterparts doing the same job. Positively, the Episcopal Church on Sept. 26, 1988, ordained its first woman as bishop, the African American Barbara Harris.

When queried what lessons or advice does the film deliver to Orthodox Christian, Catholic or Southern Baptist women seeking to be ordained but not permitted to do so, Guernsey, because she’s not a member of the clergy, passed the question to a retired friend, the Rev. Cynthia Harris, formerly the rector of the Church of the Redeemer in Morristown, New Jersey.

She commented: “I hope the ultimate message it conveys is that the struggle will ultimately be worth it — the church will change, yes, but it will also be more whole. Our work is never finished! As long as there is injustice, the church must speak up, offer hope, rest for the weary, and present a vision of God’s love … and help those we serve to see the fullness of God represented at the altar.”

The documentary notes that five of the 11 were lesbians, with only two women — Carter Heyward and Emily Hewitt — openly gay at their ordination. Others came out later. At that time, if a male candidate was discovered to be gay, he wasn’t allowed to be ordained, or if he came out after ordination, he could be suspended if sexually active or prevented from getting calls. However, Heyward noted that just by being women priests, they were already outsiders, so for her it made it easier to accept her sexuality. The bonding of the group was so strong that when Rev. Sue Hiatt was called a “dyke” by someone in the crowd, she replied, “Thank you” — even though she was straight.

Guernsey said she wants viewers after watching her film to listen deeply, engage with others and understand that we can all live up to who we are called to be.

“Sometimes, we must stand in solidarity with each other, especially when institutions and cultural norms stand in our way,” she added. “If we follow in the footsteps of these women we will be stronger. If we are serious about loving every human being as they are, then we must find new ways forward that disrupt the hierarchies we have inherited and replace them with the same kind of radical inclusivity demonstrated by these priests.”

“The Philadelphia Eleven” will have its online premiere on March 8 at 8 p.m. ET/ 5 p.m. PT at Kinema.com. Tickets are $10. All proceeds to benefit the film’s distribution.

Brian Bromberger is a freelance writer/journalist who works as a staff reporter and arts critic for The Bay Area Reporter weekly newspaper in San Francisco.