Ecofeminism – Feminism and Religion

From the Archives: “The Mixed Bag that is Toldot.”

Author’s Note: As I mentioned in last month’s blog, I am taking some time off of writing new material on feminismandreligion.com to concentrate on writing a book. In the meantime, I hope that you enjoy some of my past blog posts.

See you sometime in 2027.

This post was first published on 13 November 2022. This year, 5878, Toldot is read in synagogues on 14 November.

The parshah for November 26th is Toldot, Genesis 25:19-28:9. In it, we have the struggles of Isaac and Rebecca to conceive, the relations between Abimelech and Isaac’s family, the birth of Esau and Jacob, and the loss of Esau’s birthright and his father’s blessing. As we will see, this is a tricky portion from a feminist perspective because of Rebecca, yet, from an ecofeminist perspective, I find the way in which the portion discusses the interconnection between the water, the land, and divinity helpful.

Let me begin with the water and then we will look at Rebecca. Toldot takes place in and around the city of Gerar in Philistine territory, while Abimelech ruled. Isaac and his family travel through the land quite a bit between verses 26:16 and 26:32. Most of this section pertains to them moving and then digging new wells, the covering of wells, and the finding of water. What I find particularly interesting here is the way in which water and peace seem to go together. For example, in 26:20-21, Isaac and his family have constructed a well but it is causing them to have troubles with the locals. Isaac seeks peace and thus leaves. In verse 26:26, Isaac is visited by Abimelech and eventually a formal peace is declared. This is followed in 26:32 by Isaac’s servants finding water in a freshly dug well. In other words, Isaac is willing to uproot his family time and again to cultivate peace; he is not willing to go to war over what in the desert really is a quite limited resource.

Tortured Turtle by Sara Wright

Yesterday I attended a community event where someone from a rescue organization was holding up the biggest painted turtle that I have ever seen. More than a foot in length. An equally large snapper was lying on the grass surrounded by people.

The point this woman was trying to make is that turtles grow up into large turtles that can end up in rescue organizations. I froze in horror as I took the pictures, tried to get details but the woman was occupied with someone else while she held this creature in the air.

This morning I gazed into a forest that is dripping with dew. Astonishing golden autumn light is gilding the trees as tears fall through the leaves. Achingly beautiful until I see an image of the turtle in my mind. Remembering times when I was young and didn’t pay attention to what a sensitive child KNEW.

All creatures are sentient; all feel pain and fear. The image of yesterday’s turtle highlights everything that is wrong in a world when most people believe that only humans are sentient. Once I thought I believed that too, although the child in me did not. I couldn’t deal with the terrorized child, so I left her behind as soon as I could. As a young adolescent my second (rejecting the child was the first) crisis of faith occurred when the religion I adhered to created no space for the rest of nature or geological time.

Monarch Saga Continues in to 2026 by Sara Wright

This summer marks the first year I have not had butterflies in my wildflower garden in August, a very troubling development. June and half of July were good months with some monarchs, many swallowtails and a multitude of fritillaries flying through the field. The latter two were as prevalent in my garden as last year, although painted ladies, pearly eyes, and admirals were scarce. No monarchs around the house this year. On July 15 I saw two up by the corner perching on the milkweed who were probably the same ones I saw just above me on the circle later that day. On July 17th out of state neighbors sprayed their property with pesticides. The wind was fierce. The monarchs disappeared. I have not seen a monarch or any other butterfly since (except one fritillary that appeared briefly last week).

Because I think the same monarchs return to the sparce milkweed patch on the corner before they come here, I immediately looked for eggs*. I kept looking day after day for the rest of the month, noting the bizarre leaf distortion on this small clump of milkweed that I had not seen anywhere else. Due to pesticidal drift from a few feet away? On August 6th I was walking by the distorted milkweed and spied two monarch caterpillars. Oh no!

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.

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.

Autumn Equinox ’26 – Seeding by Sara Wright

Everywhere I go seeds are taking to the air or spilling out of capsules, flowerheads, mushrooms and lichens.

Yesterday two women gathered in the local pollinator garden where millions of seeds were rattling in light winds. Hundreds of wild asters had shriveled flowerheads, seeds still hidden. Some bean pods were splitting open spilling out black and white beads. The entire garden was a celebration of what seeds do so effortlessly. Provide for the Future of Life.

Accustomed to a riotous bouquet of blossoms, initially I noted the lack of brilliance that characterized summer in this overstuffed garden! But because we were meandering, I began paying more attention to seed heads while the woman I was with was collecting seeds. The more I looked the more ingenious these capsules, seedheads, pods became! I too began seeding, entranced by the infinite variations on one theme; after a while all I could see were seeds!

This was a perfect day to acknowledge the autumn equinox turning because this was the time of the seeding up and the time of letting go.

Notes from the ‘Field’ in August 2026, part 2 by Sara Wright

Part 1 was posted last week. You can read it here.

Choosing Change:

Because of such poor air quality Coalie and I walk in the morning when the air is clear or isn’t as toxic as it will be by afternoon. For the last two years the ozone level has skyrocketed due to unchecked deforestation, and the ever- worsening particulates burn my eyes. Headaches strike as soon as the air begins to thicken. As a result, summers have become another challenging season with me prioritizing clean air over outdoor time. My Coalie has a small set of lungs and mine are aging.

Although making this transition has been hard on the naturalist who thrives in the woodlands, the outcome is that we have adapted. I am grateful (and guilt -ridden) that raging fires are not at my door. I sense that the trees around me know their sisters and brothers are burning. I also note that when the air quality deteriorates Coalie wants to come indoors of her own accord. The lack of bird song on any day that the air is polluted is astonishing. My guess is that poor air quality is very apparent to all non – human beings.

I used to complain about my sensitivity to moderate air quality. Now I am grateful that my body makes it clear that we belong indoors, not even on the porch on ‘bad air days’ which are increasing in severity. It troubles me to watch others running or biking on the roads for fun. Virtually all other outside work is done with air polluting machines contributing mightily to the problem. The exception is a person like me who chooses to do outside chores by hand. But only on days when the air is relatively clear. But I still drive a car.

Notes from the ‘Field’ in August 2026, part 1 by Sara Wright

I thought that I would tell a few personal animal stories because they are for the most part uplifting and demonstrate how easy it is to develop relationships with just about any non – human being you meet.

Heron – A Visitation

Imagine my astonishment when I walked by the window and saw a heron striding through tall grasses. A sword -like slivery beak and sinewy neck. One glassy eye. Grey blue body. Long splayed feet firmly planted on the ground with each determined step. My dog Coalie barked once and poof – heron was gone. Oh, I was so disappointed.

Baffled, I immediately walked outside trying to imagine what a heron could be doing walking by the house. Illumination struck when I noted a slight depression that led into wild summer greenery. Thick lush ferns hid the ‘pond’, a sunken barrel ringed with stone. Heron must have been on his way to fish there, a place where frogs often hunted from a partially waterlogged, moss-covered log. I parted the greenery as one green frog dove into murky waters. No doubt there were others close by.

Historically herons could be found hunting at the brook. l sometimes glimpsed one flying out of the gorge – a prehistoric being flapping his great, syncopated wings. With worsening drought conditions, the waters were low. Yet, frogs and toads were still abundant the last time I had been down there a few days before – enough to keep mink and weasels around all year. Tell -tale footprints were often visible in the mud.

A CALL TO CELEBRATE TREES by Janet M Rudolph

Olive Tree from the studio of Judith Shaw. Judith has a special offer to purchase this artwork as a giclee print through August 24th. Details below.

With the trees burning around the world, in Canada and the US as well as in Europe and Africa, Asia, South America and more, it seems to be an especially important time to be with the trees, to recognize our kinship, and to celebrate them.

To see just how bad the fires are around the world, below are the links to two maps that are kept in real time.
NASA Greenpeace

I don’t know when and where the initial hatred of trees began, but I would tag the Bible as an early and influential proponent of destroying trees.

The viciousness against trees appears to have grown out of a desire to erase Goddess worship in Biblical lands. The terms for Goddess groves were Asherot and Ashereem named after the Goddess Ashera. An individual tree was called an Ashera. The charge given to the people was to cut down everyone.

And ye shall overthrow their altars, and break their pillars, and burn their groves (Ashereem) with fire; and ye shall hew down the graven images of their gods, and destroy the names of them out of that place.
Deuteronomy 12:3 KJV

But ye shall destroy their altars, break their images, and cut down their groves:
Exodus 34:13 KJV