Feminism and Religion

The Legacy of Carol P. Christ: Does Masculine Have to Be the Opposite of Feminine?

This was originally posted on January 5, 2105

“Furthermore, like Obama, [de Blasio] projects a masculinity that is empathic and introspective — anathema to the patriarchal attitudes that dominate hierarchal institutions like the police.”

I wish the analysis that accompanies this quote had been mine, but maybe I should be glad that it comes from an insightful young man who goes by the name liamcdg. He argues that the real beef the New York police have with Bill de Blasio is his challenge to their definition of masculinity as dominance, or shall we say white male dominance.

As noted by liamcdg, in the NYPD version of reality, parents should teach children to comply “to comply with New York City police officers even if they think it’s unjust.” In terms of competing definitions of masculinity, the NYPD version is that men in power should be respected simply in virtue of their position, even if they are acting or appearing to act unjustly. In other words we should respect the powerful because they are powerful.

To be empathetic is to be able to put yourself in another person’s place, and in its literal meaning, to feel the feelings of another. In the recent public conversations about race and the police, both Obama and de Blasio have invited white Americans to put themselves in the place of a black man stopped by the police for little or no reason and to ask themselves how they would feel in that situation.

From the Archives: “Lilith: Evil Demon or Feminist Role Model?”

Author’s Note: For the next 9 months or so, you will be seeing “From the Archives” blog posts from me, as I will be spending the time writing a book on Judaism and ecofeminism. The feminismandreligion.com community is extremely important to me, which is why I want to stay ‘involved’ even while my writing obligations currently lie elsewhere. I hope that in the meantime, you will enjoy these repeats.

See you again here ‘in person’ sometime in 2027.

Because I did not get to say it in September as we were on hiatus:

לשנה טובה ומתוקה

This post originally published 8 October 2023. This year Simchat Torah was the 3rd of October.

Today, we celebrate Simchat Torah (the Joy of the Torah) which marks the end of a cycle of Torah readings and the beginning of a new one. Therefore, the Torah portion for October 14, 2023 is Bereshit (Genesis 1:1-6:8), the first parshah of the Torah. This parshah is most known for its myths surrounding the beginning of the world, including, within it, two creation stories, the first one running from 1:1 to 2:3 and the second from 2:4 to 2:25. These accounts of creation are followed by a story about Adam, Eve, a snake, and the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil. The parshah concludes with the happenings of Cain and Abel, the descendants of Adam and Eve, and Noah, a man who found divine favor.

Executions of Women in Iran in 2026: The Human Cost of State Violence by WNCRI

Today, October 10th, 2026 is World Day Against the Death Penalty

Mothers, Child Brides, and Victims; 54 Killed in 12 Months

As the World Day Against the Death Penalty is observed, the situation of executions of women in Iran presents a horrifying picture of the scale of structural violence against women.

According to information documented by the Women’s Committee of the National Council of Resistance of Iran, at least 28 women have been executed in prisons across Iran since the beginning of 2026. Over a twelve-month period, from October 2025 to October 2026, the number of women executed in Iran reached at least 54. This shocking figure underscores the continued use of the death penalty against women.

These figures have been recorded under circumstances in which, following the nationwide protests of January 2026, months of widespread internet shutdowns, severe communication restrictions, and extensive censorship made the flow of information from inside Iran to the outside world extremely difficult and, in many cases, virtually impossible.

Reclaiming Your Inner Pantheon: Embodying Feminine Power

Sometimes it seems I have a badly chaired committee meeting in my head. One inner voice pushes for taking a risk and beginning something new right now, preferably before breakfast. Another would like everyone to stop making demands and to please leave her alone with a book. A third is concerned about energy management and a house in renovation chaos. The inner cynic relentlessly points out that I’m making the same mistakes over and over again, and when will I finally learn? Does that sound familiar?

Rather than asking “which” archetype we are, as especially social media likes to do, this post considers how different moments in life call for different energies that we all carry within us, from Maiden and Lover to Warrior, Queen, Crone and Mystic.

Perhaps some are more familiar than others, but each of them has so much to offer! Through body, movement and imagination, we can begin to recognise which voices have been running the show… which one’s we ignored and… which have been waiting in the wings …

Tree Huggers by Beth Bartlett

Amrita Devi Beniwal, Wikimedia Commons,
Nishanttaliyan07

The way we stand, you can see we have grown up this way together, out of the same soil, with the same rains, leaning in the same way toward the sun. See how we lean together in the same direction. How the dead limbs of one of us rest in the branches of another. How those branches have grown around the limbs. How the two are inseparable. . . . the way we stand, each alone, yet none of us separable .. . . [i]

Two maples just outside our home grow intertwined. They are consummate tree huggers. Begun as two trees standing beside each other, they eventually embraced, grew together and became one, and several years later branched out into their individual growth once again. Not withstanding Kahlil Gibran’s thoughts on marriage —

…let there be spaces in your togetherness, . . .
Stand together yet not too near together. . .
For the . . .oak tree and the cypress grow not in each other’s shadow[ii]

— the maples have found a way to grow together and apart, in each other’s shade and sun, thriving. We have much to learn from them.

I’ve encountered so many tree huggers in the woods, and each time am thrilled and delighted by the ways in which they embrace and swirl, entangling their lives with each other’s in a dance of life and limb. They know how to lean on each other, supporting each other through the worst of the winds, and sharing the sunshine. They seem to draw strength and sustenance from each other, and as we know from Suzanne Simard’s work, indeed they do, nourishing each other, their roots undoubtedly entangled even more than their trunks and branches – an extended family of trees entwined in the soil underneath.

Archives from the FAR Founders: Process Thought: Feminist Friendly Metaphysics by Xochitl Alvizo

This post was originally published July 18, 2o12.

“To be is necessarily to be in process and engagement with the lure of creative advance (that is, with God). In this sense, God is the poet of the world continually luring the world toward its full be-coming.“

“It all goes back to one’s metaphysics.” That is what my TA said in the first theology class I took during my masters program. We were discussing our theological statements in class – a statement that outlines our individual understanding of God, humanity, sin, etc. – presenting them to one another for feedback and discussion. As we argued and discussed (“How can you possibly believe that?”) our TA made the case that our theological statements and the varying differences among them were largely determined by our particular metaphysics – that is, they are determined by whatever we hold to be the nature of existence. That is to say, if science studies the physical world, metaphysics is the result of asking questions about the underlying reality of that physical world – about the nature of the physical world and by extension all of existence. As one can imagine, not all metaphysics are created equal, but all of them are theories with enormous implications.

Cracked Stone: An Artist Works with her Muse by Sara Wright

I open the door to step on fieldstones that I have carefully placed, stone by stone to create a ‘patio’ of sorts out of what used to be an eyesore. First flooded waters sat there in mud, then on thin layers of gravel. Just outside my door. This one area roughly 12x 24 is the only flat piece of ground on this property. Water and ice just sit there forever. Winters have been hell.

About six years ago I put in a side door to escape the mountains of snow that slid off the roof burying the front door for 7- 8 months of the year. I shoveled the roof and path to this door for all the years I have lived here until recently. I gave up this practice at 75 for safety reasons after breaking my foot but was stuck with mucky ground. Worst for me was that the space was so ugly – the rest of this property with its winding brook, field and forested hills is astonishingly beautiful.

Even when I could use the front door I dragged in old leaves, mud, gravel and made myself crazy with housework which I despise. I could not keep the floors clean.

The Legacy of Carol P. Christ: The Spirit of Capitalism vs. the Spirit of Traditional Rural Life

This was originally posted on Dec 29, 2014

In this picture, Marika from Skoteino Crete toasts our group and downs a glass of her homemade raki. Marika, who is best friends with Christina who makes lunch for us, has just returned from her home next door with her gift of a glass of raki for each of us.

Marika, who has little, is eager to give to us. Hers is but one of many gifts from the heart we receive on the Goddess Pilgrimage to Crete. Why is it that we who have so much do not give as spontaneously?

One answer is that capitalist individualism has taught us to count our worth by how much we have and to fear for the day when we will have nothing.

These words may be a cliché, but they hold a profound truth nonetheless.

Heide Goettner-Abendroth tells us that in matriarchal societies with small-scale sustainable agricultural economies, people did not hoard or save for a rainy day. With the labors of their bodies and minds, they took only what they needed from the land. When there was a surplus, they gave parties, sharing what they had with others. Even with the coming of patriarchy, ancient matriarchal customs of generosity survived among rural farmers.

How I Have Been Influenced by Poet Ellen Bass by Charlotte Donlon

“When You Return” by Ellen Bass

Fallen leaves will climb back into trees.
Shards of the shattered vase will rise
and reassemble on the table.
Plastic raincoats will refold
into their flat envelopes. The egg,
bald yolk and its transparent halo,
slide back in the thin, calcium shell.
Curses will pour back into mouths,
letters un-write themselves, words
siphoned up into the pen. My gray hair
will darken and become the feathers
of a black swan. Bullets will snap
back into their chambers, the powder
tamped tight in brass casings. Borders
will disappear from maps. Rust
revert to oxygen and time. The fire
return to the log, the log to the tree,
the white root curled up
in the un-split seed. Birdsong will fly
into the lark’s lungs, answers
become questions again.
When you return, sweaters will unravel
and wool grow on the sheep.
Rock will go home to mountain, gold
to vein. Wine crushed into the grape,
oil pressed into the olive. Silk reeled in
to the spider’s belly. Night moths
tucked close into cocoons, ink drained
from the indigo tattoo. Diamonds
will be returned to coal, coal
to rotting ferns, rain to clouds, light
to stars sucked back and back
into one timeless point, the way it was
before the world was born,
that fresh, that whole, nothing
broken, nothing torn apart.

This poem appears in Ellen Bass’s book “Like a Beggar” published by Copper Canyon Press in 2014 For more information on Ellen Bass and her poetry go to her website https://www.ellenbass.com/ Poem posted here under “fair use” guidance.

While warming up beside an enormous stone fireplace with a dozen other writing workshop participants in western North Carolina, I listened to an instructor read the poem “When You Return” by Ellen Bass. I had come to the retreat wrung out from church trauma and the ache of not knowing where I fit in anymore. As the flames crackled and spit, the reader spoke words that singed the edges of longings I hadn’t yet noticed—longings for crooked paths to be made straight, for broken things to be made whole. I was crying by the time he recited the last few lines— “the way it was / before the world was born, / that fresh, that whole, nothing / broken, nothing torn apart.” The tears surprised me; a snowmelt after years of frozen longing that finally began to thaw.

Spiritual Direction for Writers by Charlotte Donlon

I fell in love with poetry when I began graduate school for my MFA in creative writing. Looking back at the poems I was reading and writing ten years ago, I can connect the dots among my relationship with poetry, my faith, and my rejection of the patriarchy.

Most poems felt like prayers to me back then; they still do. I often say the word “poem” when I mean to say “prayer” and “prayer” when I’m trying to say “poem.” Half the time I don’t even notice that I’ve misspoken because the words and what they represent are so tightly woven together. If I don’t sense much of a personal connection to the themes of a poem I’m reading, I view it as I view a psalm that doesn’t feel especially resonant at the moment–I know that somewhere someone will feel seen and known by the words, and I am in some sense reading on their behalf, as I hope that on my harder days, people are reading and praying on mine. I trust the collective, the mystery, the power of words to connect souls and minds across time and space.

Putting myself in the way of poetry became a spiritual practice while I was struggling to find my place in the conservative evangelical denomination my husband and I had been members of for almost 20 years. We had engaged in conversations about women in the church, racial healing, mercy and justice—topics that we viewed as intimately connected to what it means to be a Christian in our everyday lives. We pushed for change. We led small groups without shying away from difficult conversations. We brought in speakers and coordinated film nights. We tried so hard to make our local church something it wasn’t–something it would never be.