T oday is my friend’s memorial service. I first met her eight years ago at the church where she served as a priest. She taught some of the classes for new members. And this church, which will always hold a special place in my heart, attracted more than its fair share of religiously bruised malcontents, so you can imagine the attitudes of some of the attendees. Men and women, tentatively exploring a return to a faith that had been important to them, poked and prodded at the fabric of the flag for which this female priest was the de facto standard bearer. She was plain-spoken and kind, responding to sincere questions thoughtfully. When she sensed a student was provoking rather than exploring, though, sidelining…