Exploring the F-word in religion at the intersection of scholarship, activism, and community.
One of my academic joys is interviewing people I find particularly interesting (see most of my posts here). This time I am honored to present a recent interview I did with Judith Butler.
Many wonder how gender performance relates to chromosomes, phenotypes, genitalia, and other scientific “evidence” for innate sexual differences. Continue reading “Sex, Religion, and Discourse: An Interview with Judith Butler”
It may come as a surprise to those who identify as both feminists and religious practitioners that I don’t believe women should be pastors of any dominant religious congregation. This includes most religions which, I assert, are rooted in and structured by the tenets of patriarchy. Does that mean I think women should be congregants of a patriarchal-originated religious system? You guessed it – no. While this may seem like a radical notion to some, it took me quite some time to come to terms with my own conflict in being both feminist and a believer.
My transition from the Pentecostal sect was a long, intricate process that involved life-altering decisions. The notion of leaving the church was driven by my immersion in women’s studies during my undergraduate degree. There were many difficult questions I simply didn’t have an answer for, as the church didn’t provide me with them.
One of them being: Can women instruct an entire congregation of believers?
For those who are female pastors, I’m sure you’ve heard this one a million times, but somehow it never fades from religious and secular discourse. Whether it’s the Islamic, Jewish, Christian, or Mormon faith, women have had to constantly fight for their right to preach religious doctrine. In the beginning of my transition, I was on the side of: Preach it ladies! Continue reading “Why I Don’t Believe in Female Pastors by Andreea Nica”
Growing up, there was a way in which I always felt excluded from holy things. There was the holy: blessed water, sacred oil, priestly blessings, consecrated priests, pilgrimage sites, religious buildings and communion to name a few and then there was everything else including me. Yet, I was a good kid who always (or almost always) did as I was told. Doing good works is not contrary to a Catholic childhood or education. In fact, it is an integral part of Catholicism, but there is also a competing notion that good works are in a different ontological category from holiness. While goodness merits salvation, salvation is not connected to being holy. Holiness was granted; salvation was earned. In addition, holiness also seemed more distant because men had more access to holiness than women did. Only men could be ordained and priests consecrate the Eucharist, celebrate the sacraments and bless people and things. These are all holy things and the closer one interacts with holiness, the more holiness is bound to transfer onto the person coming into contact with them. Continue reading “On the Path of Holiness by Ivy Helman”
For many feminists, exp
erience is crucial. Experience has long been associated with feminist epistemological theories which suggest that reflection on and analysis of one’s experiences offer crucial insight into society. In the history of the women’s movement, this insight and analysis has many times translated into direct action to change the way our society functions.
Experience too has been problematized by various postmodern and postcolonial feminist theorists. They rightly point to the situated-ness of all experiences along class, race, gender, ethnic, religious and other lines. (For more on these ideas, one could read Postcolonialism, Feminism & Religious Discourse edited by Laura E. Donaldson and Kwok Pui-lan.) The context of each and every experience is different. It would be unwise therefore to assume that experiences produce adequate knowledge about societies and how they function. For example, the experience of white middle-class British women living in India during the British occupation is very different from her indigenous contemporary and completely different from lower caste men and women of the same time period. It is important to remember here that patriarchal privilege rears its head and favors some people’s experiences over others, often codifying an experience as “the experience.” When we talk about experience then we should acknowledge that there is no such thing as a generic experience. In fact, some post-modernist feminist thinkers think that situated-ness can color experience so much that our experiences may not even be reliable descriptions of the way society functions. Continue reading “My Experience of Community by Ivy Helman”
In June, my friend, Shifra, and I became Co-Chairs of the Ritual Committee at our shul. During the past few weeks, we have occasionally turned to one another and said, “I can’t wait for the High Holy Days to be over!” Then, we have paused realizing what we have said and have sworn that we didn’t mean it. We don’t. Truly, we don’t. But we are overwhelmed by the sheer amount of detail required for the days to go well. There are babysitters to find, flowers to pick-up and drop off and pick-up again, kiddushim to organize, chairs to arrange, musicians to contact, mahzorim to bring up from the basement, bulletins and programs to coordinate, volunteers to recruit, parking to find for Tashlich, carpets to be cleaned, pianos to be tuned and so much more. Thank G-d there is a committee and a community to help us, but we still have much of the organizing and synchronizing to do. It’s a lot for two people who also have jobs, family and other responsibilities to fit in as well.
What concerns me more than anything in all of this organizing and busyness is that I won’t be personally prepared for the High Holy Days. These days require personal, spiritual and relational work which all takes time. I can’t show up on Yom Kippur morning and expect to have an amazingly deep spiritual experience if I have done nothing to prepare myself for it. To me, this would be the irony of all ironies: the one who has spent the past three months making sure the shul is ready isn’t prepared herself. Since the last week of August, I have been setting aside time away from the details to make sure that doesn’t happen. Within the personal work I’ve done, I have found two inspirational and meaningful reflections which I’d like to share with you. Continue reading “Two Reflections for the New Year: 5774 By Ivy Helman”
The Torah is bursting with hopes over-fulfilled. Abraham and Sarah hoped for a child and gave birth to a nation. The Israelites hoped for freedom from slavery and eventually received an entire Promised Land. We understand hope and, in so many ways, we live on it, as hope has sustained us for thousands of years. Today, our hopes inspire our actions and motivate us to work for peace, justice and equality. In Jewish terms, we call this goal or vision of a better world in the here-and-now: redemption.
Yet, redemption does not just appear out of thin air or because we wish it. Redemption and the hope of it requires work and cooperation with the Source of All Life. As Deuteronomy 30:19 says, “I have put before you life and death… [therefore] choose life…” This cooperation could be a simple commitment to tikkun olam, repairing the world (some times translated as social justice). For others, choosing life could mean more observant religious practice. It could also be a combination of the two. In the end, though, I think both hope and redemption require choosing life in some form or another.
Just as how we choose life depends on who we are, how we achieve this redeemed world depends on how we understand G-d’s redemptive power. Some of us think redemption will come through the moshiach (a savior), Continue reading “Tikvah v’hashamayim (Hope and the Heavens): A Jewish Perspective on Redemption by Ivy Helman.”
In the space of a week, three obtuse remarks by non-Muslim men about Muslim women ticked me off.
First was a letter to the editor by Rabbi Howard Berman, published in the Boston Globe on April 21. The title (“Women’s Strides set Judaism apart”) was telling. According to Berman, strict religious hierarchy means that only in (his branch of) Judaism have women’s rights and roles advanced. Mormons and Catholics have no shot – never mind that Mormon women had recently raised the issue of women’s priesthood, or that lay and religious women among Catholics have long been fighting the good fight, sometimes with male allies. He then contradicts himself on the role of official hierarchy: Islam, where there is less centralization than in American or world Judaism, also gives women no chance of gaining authority.
I fumed and mentally composed a pithy refutation, which I never actually wrote. Continue reading “Third Time’s the Charm by Kecia Ali”
This is a response to Carol P. Christ’s blog of April 29, 2013 on why she decided to leave the Christian tradition. Carol and I discuss these questions further in our forthcoming book Goddess and God in the World: Conversations in Embodied Theology.
You raise the important question of what factors lead feminists to leave or remain within the religion of their birth. Your central challenge to me is how I can commit myself to a tradition in which God is imagined as a violent warrior when these images have harmed and continue to harm women and the world. How can I not recoil from using such images in worship? Why is the power of symbols less important to me than to you?
The first thing I would say is that, like you, I find these images profoundly problematic. One of the projects I have taken on in my retirement is reading the Bible from cover to cover, and I was appalled in going through all the prophets together at the amount of violence in their teachings. When I have spoken on the topic of dealing with difficult texts in the Jewish and Christian traditions—a subject that is dear to my heart—I always talk about God’s violence in addition to texts that demean women. And, yes, I have sometimes asked myself how I can remain part of a tradition in which God is depicted in this way. So I do not disagree with your critique of this imagery, but obviously for me, it is not decisive. Why not? Continue reading “Deciding to Leave or Remain in the Religion of Your Birth – Part II by Judith Plaskow”
I first started delving into both Jewish Kabbalah and Hermetic Qabalah in the 1990s, after friends told me these forms of mysticism included both female and male representations of divinity and therefore were gender equitable. They were right about the first part: Kabbalah/Qabalah contain both divine masculine and feminine imaging and male and female images. But as far as gender equity goes, to use today’s slang, not so much!
Though they are both transliterations of the same Hebrew word, as is common I use “Kabbalah” for the Jewish versions, and “Qabalah” for the Hermetic version, best known through its association with the British Hermetic Order of the Golden Dawn, which began in the 19th Century. The word means “that which is received,” with the understanding that it was “received” from ancient times. Though there is one tradition that says Adam was given Kabbalah in the Garden of Eden, the first written material for Kabbalah, Sefir Yetsirah (Book of Creation), is dated to between 200 and 500 C.E. Kabbalistic concepts changed over the centuries, with writings becoming more significant in the 13th century and even more popular in the 16th and 17th centuries.
Beginning with the Sefir Bahir (Bright Book) in late 12th century France, Kabbalah is represented by the Tree of Life, which has round areas transliterated sefirot (Heb. pl.; sing. sefirah) that I think of as fruit and others call “spheres,” but which in the Bahir, are more accurately translated “sapphires.”* These “divine emanations,” as they are often called in English, are gendered. How equal is the gender representation? Continue reading “Gender in Kabbalah by Judith Laura”
(I offer here an abridged version of the sermon I gave on Yom Kippur (5773) at Temple Emanuel in Lowell, MA. The full version will be available on their website soon. The book of Jonah is always read on Yom Kippur in the afternoon service as the Haftorah. It is rather traditional that someone (usually the Rabbi) offer an interpretation of it. Temple Emanuel asked me this year. I thank the congregation for the honor and I hope my words offered them, and now you, food for thought.)
Scholars believe the Greek philosopher Plato lived between 428 BCE and 348 BCE. The Allegory of the Cave is one of Plato’s most famous stories. It illustrates the effects of a change in knowledge, education and experiences on the human being. Some of you may know it or have read it at some point but for those of you who don’t, let me offer a very brief summary.
There are human beings shackled to a cave in a way that they can only see the wall directly in front of them. Continue reading ““From Teshuvah to Justice: Jonah’s Call to Change” by Ivy Helman”
Feminism and Religion 