Feminism and Religion

Kything—A Feminist String Theory of Connection by Mary Gelfand

The string of beads lies coiled in my palm as I reflect upon my women’s circle and our annual kything ritual. Sixteen different beads, each representing a different woman in the circle. We are a Goddess honoring group that meets twice a month from September through June, at the local UU church. Some of us have been active in this group for twenty years. Some of us joined last month. We range in age from mid-forties to mid-eighties.

We sit around the outsides of three long tables, arranged in a U-shape so we can see each other. In front of us, we each have a small cup of beads, some paper to make notes on, and a knotted piece of beading wire. We begin our kything ritual.

Lynn, one of the facilitators, holds up a blue bead and describes it. She names her intention for this summer—life energy—and asks us to visualize her walking confidently on the beach at low tide without a limp or cane, full of life energy. Knowing as we do that she is recovering from knee replacement surgery, the intention is not surprising. I find it empowering to energetically support her healing as I visualize her confidently walking on the beach.

Broken Roots? by Sara Wright

I write to
find out
who I am
becoming
and when
I implored
Sedna
to take
me back
to the sea
I came
to know
my roots
to Place
were
broken
by age
by betrayal
by loneliness
by advocating
for a planet
animals, trees
by people
who do not listen
by people who
will not see

like Mother Pine
moaning
outside
my door
I too
moan
Unforgiving
Ice and Wind
Treachery on every path
Trees encased
in White

At the Bottom
of the Well
Water Murmured
accept
this Break

Underground
Mycorrhizal
threads remain
your Guides

Sedna
rises
meets you
on
dry land
for the second
time in
one year

The Music of Creation by Janet Maika’i Rudolph

I am excited to announce my latest book: The Music of Creation: Exploring Verse and Vibration in the Bible. In this book I present pagan translations of the Bible and then lay out spiritual practices based on those verses. The practices make use of “the triple secret” of manifestation which is Mudra (body or hand position), Mantra (chant) and Mandala (image). Each has power on their own. Together they become even more compelling. Below are two excerpts from the book. The first is a template of chanting and the power it can have in our bodies and in our lives.

Excerpt 1 – Below, I note four different ways to approach chanting. All have merit. They can be combined. In each, I use Hallelujah (in its meaning of praise) as an example.

First: Song, performance, vibration. Hallelujah has been a particular focus of song-writing with beautiful results. The top results which come to my mind are Leonard Cohen and Handel. Hallelujah is a wonderful example of a performance chant and a choral piece.

The Legacy of Carol P. Christ: Liminal Space

This was originally posted on December 30, 2019

From the Latin word limen meaning threshold.

When I returned to Lesbos in mid-October, I imagined I would be living in my new apartment in Crete for the holidays. In fact, my lawyer and my realtor insisted that I arrange to transfer money to Greece quickly, as they expected the contract to be ready soon.

When I opened the door and entered into what had been my dream home in Lesbos, I was greeted by the smell of damp and the sight of peeling paint. The previous winter had been the rainiest in many years, one of my living room walls is partially underground due to a slope, and moisture had seeped through the walls. I wanted to move out—and fast.

Women of the Hebrew Bible as Role Models for 2026 by Judith Maeryam Wouk

Miriam, Anselm Feuerbach, wikimedia commons, public domain

When you hear “Jezebel” do you think of a bold queen, co-regent with the king? Does “Delilah” evoke a businesswoman concerned about securing a comfortable retirement? Does “Miriam” call to mind a community leader who speaks truth to power?

You don’t have to believe in, or even read, the Hebrew bible[1] to be aware of, and perpetuate, its misogynistic portrayal of women as either promiscuous or passive, subservient to their husbands and longing for sons.

Honouring and (re)discovering our spiritual lineage is an important part Feminism and Religion. In this, and future blogs, I will reframe the stories of Biblical women to examine their legacy as unconventional foremothers. Let’s uncover their contributions which have been swallowed by the patriarchal focus that discounts or appropriates the contributions of women.

Confessions: Lunch with Ann by Margot Van Sluytman

This is not Augustine’s confessions. This is not an essay on what love should mean. This is a poetic evocation of recognizing the beauty of friendship, the beauty of companionship. The blessing of breaking bread together and sharing in conversation that is the heart of who and how we are. Who and how we are forever becoming. Even when the Muse abandons us.
My dear friend, Ann, and I shared a wonderful lunch, talking, tears, supreme laughter, exquisite food. During that conversation, it became clear to me that the poetry of life is love that is situated where kindness and kinship and commitment highlight our meaning, our meaning for being and doing, which is intimately linked, for many of us, with our pens to the page. Fingers to the keyboard. Twinned and intertwined with lushness of choice.
A choice to have boundaries, whereby though the heart and the flesh can feel moved by what may present itself to be love, stepping back and feeling with the intellect of the heart and the intellect of the mind what is not being said, what is not being expressed warrants keen attention. A life-changing recognition of the possibility to wash away miasma and mist and pretence. And to stare directly into the depth and clarity that is: Wisdom. She Who Is. Sophia Speaking.

Micro Joys by Xochitl Alvizo

“Micro joys helps us deal with macro sadness,” Ana Navarro.

Ana Navarro, a political commentator, spoke those words when trying to explain the significance of the Bad Bunny Half Time show for Latin American people in the U.S. (the show which was also affectionately called “The Benito Bowl,” Benito being Bad Bunny’s first name). It’s a statement that captures the experience I witnessed among my extended Puerto Rican family regarding the meaningfulness of the Bad Bunny performance during the Super Bowl’s Half Time Show. (Mind you, we were only tuned in to catch the Benito Bowl, not the football game).

It would be hard to overstate the significance and meaningfulness of the performance for Boricuas. Every single detail of the show means something and represents important aspects of Puerto Rican life, culture, and history. I encourage you to read a few articles or posts on the show if you are not already familiar in order to help you understand all that was involved and included in the performance.

Expanding the Possibilities of Being: Transness and the Practice of Freedom by Mark Gardett

Imagine a tree.

This tree lives in a park, surrounded by other trees. There’s a lake in the distance, and the tree has plenty of space to spread its leaves to the sun. In the summer, its leaves are lush and green, and in the winter, its bare branches shake in the wind.

Now imagine this tree saying to itself, when its leaves turn brown in the fall, “I am so ugly—the other trees won’t like me.” Imagine the tree next to it thinking, “I am the smart tree,” or “I am mom’s favorite tree,” or “I’m a failure–I will never be a good enough tree” or “I’m going to be the richest and most successful tree.”

It doesn’t seem likely. Yet as humans, we have these kinds of thoughts all the time. They’re called identifications, and every practice of yoga, despite all the incredible diversity of lineages and traditions, is designed to teach us how to let them go. No matter what school of yoga you study, this is the goal: liberation from our identification with the impermanent, changing, and ultimately unsatisfying temporary self, so that we can reunite with the true Self beneath.

In the Belly of Winter: Tending the Sacred Flame by Molly M. Remer

It is February, the belly of winter. We stand in the doorway between worlds, a thin, pale light ahead of us, just beginning to gather itself at the horizon. While life may feel still and inspiration frozen, something in us is listening for the first faint whispers of spring. In earth-centered, neopagan spiritual traditions drawing inspiration from old Celtic holidays, the holiday of Imbolc is on February 1-2. Imbolc is based on an old Irish word that means “in the belly.” One of my favorite reminders to myself at any time of year, not just February, is to cradle myself in the belly of the moment.* To be in the belly reminds us that we need not be focused on arriving or figuring it all out, instead we incubate, we gestate, we draw nourishment from deep within. We do not have to be ready. We are becoming. We are in the belly of winter, and the work of the belly is to hold, to warm, to nourish what is not yet visible.

In the middle of winter as well as in the middle of national crises, international conflict, and climate disaster, the world can feel grim and gray, and like hope and optimism are misplaced or even extinguished. We may feel burned out, used up, or simply too tired to offer anything of value.

Lightbringer by Sara Wright

Author’s Note: I wrote these two poems back to back and didn’t realize until afterwards that they belong together.

Storm Sky Invasion

I stand
at the window
peering
through haze
gray on gray
or is it white
a tangle of
bare branches
obscure powdered
hemlocks
lining a frozen
brook
ki
winding
her way
under
ICE
to the sea
where marble eyed
Seal stands
watch
on a stone
centering a lake
whose boundaries
remain obscure
Guardian
of Flowing
Waters
freed from
constraints
freezing
just one
her sleek
coat
I stand
at the window
peering
through haze
gray on gray
or is it white
a tangle of
bare branches
obscure powdered
hemlocks
lining a frozen
brook
ki
winding
her way
under
ICE
to the sea
where marble eyed
Seal stands
watch
on a stone
centering a lake
whose boundaries
remain obscure
Guardian
of Flowing
Waters
freed from
constraints
freezing
just one
her sleek
coat
a dream
shining
through
descent
each step
takes
us
deeper.
I thought
I saw
a fish?
One silver dagger
Twins with
swords
puncture
frigid air
one falls
to ground
water
petrified
by an
unearthly
chill
ever darkening
skies
blur
the force
of an
oncoming
storm
ICE a
threat
black and
white
crocheted
extremes
hidden
behind
masks
of the dead