Women’s Spirituality – Page 11 – Feminism and Religion

Summer Emergence by Molly Remer

Sometimes I wonder what I do in a year. Then I remember that I watch nighthawks migrate and coneflowers go to seed. I find Monarch caterpillars small and brave on persistent milkweed. I travel over miles of stone and moss, sometimes on my knees, seeking mushrooms and cackling with glee. I kneel in the violets, purple and white and yellow, and inhale great breaths of wild plum. I keep dates with as many sunsets as I can. I walk and walk and walk, carry leaves of mullein, crow feathers, bits of chicory, coreopsis, evening primrose, and wild rose home to press into the pages of my prayers. I pick blackberries with the bees and feel butterfly tongues on the skin of my wrist. I reach for wild raspberries under both thunder and sun. I slide down hillsides with muddy feet and antlers in my hands. I make eye contact with hummingbirds and turtles and deer and raccoons. I watch both fawns and nestlings grow. I learn how woodpeckers talk to their babies and the purring sound crows make at the compost pile when they think they’re unobserved. I lose and recollect myself more times than I can count, hold myself steady and let myself dissolve. I create new things with a wild veracity of devotion that sometimes threatens to consume me. And, I learn over and over again every day, how much it matters to bear witness, to what means to sit with myself in the temple of the ordinary each day, calling my attention back, recommitting to being here for it all, settling back into center again and again, rebuilding and renewing, witnessing and weaving, losing and finding, laughing and crying, refusing to surrender my joy and trusting that somehow it matters to be here, to see everything I can.

The Impresa of Great Mystery by Janet Maika’i Rudolph

The Fibonacci series has been called the fingerprint of god. That is because they are a sequence of numbers found ubiquitously in nature. I’ve been thinking up new names for it. It is a progression created by adding each number to its previous number after starting with the number one. It looks like this:

1, 1, 2, 3, 5, 8, 13, 21, 34, 55 and so on to infinity.

The Fibonacci Sequence was first described in the 12^th century by Leonardo Pisano Bigollo, an Italian mathematician. His nickname was Fibonacci, which translates to “son of Bonacci.” He has been called the Leonardo of Pisa, the city of his birth. The series is unique. When you take the ratio of any two successive numbers in the series (after the three), the resultant numbers have a pattern. They fall into an increasingly narrow range with the sequence revolving around a ratio called the Golden Mean, the golden ratio, or the golden number. It is 1.618. Below is an example of how the number sequence works:

5 / 3 = 1.666
8 / 5 = 1.600
13 / 8 = 1.625
21 / 13 = 1.615
34 / 21 = 1.619
55 / 34 = 1.617

Processing my experiences of patriarchy has changed my faith for the better by Liz Cooledge Jenkins

As my first book, Nice Churchy Patriarchy, approaches six months of being out there in the world, I find myself reflecting on the journey. The process of unpacking all the ways patriarchy shows up in faith communities—and, in particular, the ways patriarchy has impacted my experience of church—has been a long one, and a winding one. It is no easy path.

How could a person travel this road and have their faith remain unscathed? Or perhaps a better question is this: How could one’s faith remain unchanged? And is this even a desirable goal?

After spending eleven years in “complementarian” (that is, explicitly patriarchal) evangelical church spaces and then two years in evangelical spaces that were egalitarian in theory but still had a long way to go to reach full gender equity—and, especially, after spending four years intentionally reflecting on these experiences and writing about them—I certainly see questions about gender roles and women in leadership differently. But it’s not only that. I see everything differently.

A Feminist Reading of Saint Wilgefortis by Sofia Meskhidze

The legend of Saint Wilgefortis tells the story of a Christian woman who was martyred for her faith. While there are numerous women martyrs in the Christian tradition, Wilgefortis is distinguished by her gender non-conformity. She is often referred to as female Christ^[1] and is almost always depicted with a beard, in a dress, and nailed to a cross. According to the legend, she was a Christian princess from Portugal whose father had promised her to the pagan king of Sicily. Wilgefortis, refusing to marry, prayed all night for God to make her unmarriable and as a result miraculously grew a beard, causing her father’s rage, after which he had her tortured and crucified^[2]. The origin of the legend is thought to be the Volto Santo sculpture in Lucca, Italy, one of the most well-known examples of a clothed crucifix^[3]. Misinterpretation or not, it is without doubt that the legend spread wide and Wilgefortis was in medieval times venerated almost as much as the Virgin Mary. In fact, this popularity displeased the Catholic Church, who actively discouraged it and even removed Wilgefortis from the official list of saints in 1969^[4]. Here I argue for the importance of Wilgefortis to feminist theology, feminist and queer Christians, and her potential as a non-binary/gender non-conforming icon.

Rhiannon as Midlife Queen Mother by Kelle BanDea

We tend to think of Rhiannon as the fairy maiden on the white horse who entices Pwyll, the King and her future husband, into the Otherworld. Or she is the young mother who is unfairly blamed for the death of her own child until he is restored to her. This is Rhiannon’s story as it is most well-known, and she has become a beloved figure due to it. The image of the beautiful fairy woman on the white horse has become equated, to modern neopagan folks and Goddess-women, with the ancient Celtic and Indo-European horse goddesses. Of all the women in the medieval Welsh lore that we know as the four story ‘branches’ of the Mabinogi, Rhiannon is perhaps the most beloved.

But this is only half of the story.

What an Outdoor Movie Taught me about Biblical Women By Alicia Jo Rabins

Once I went to a free outdoor movie in Miami Beach. The film was projected on the side of the giant concert hall. There was a grassy park with palm trees stretching out from the wall; families brought picnic dinners and cans of beer and stretched out to watch the movie once the sky darkened.

The movie was Star Wars, but as Princess Leah appeared, I was thinking about a different mythic canon. For over twenty years I’ve been studying and teaching stories of Biblical women from a feminist Jewish perspective, and after all this time, I was surprised to find that the way I feel while interacting with these stories was oddly, powerfully similar to the feeling of watching Star Wars projected on the side of a building on this Miami night.

Human Being or Human Doing? by Mary Gelfand

As a cis white woman in her mid-70s, with a family history of arthritis, I am sometimes confronted by various challenging questions that I prefer not to explore. Who am I if I can’t take care of my basic physical needs? Do I have value if I can’t do my fair share of the household tasks? Who am I if I can’t contribute to my communities? Who am I if I can’t ‘do’? Can I learn to just ‘be’?

These questions swirling around in my head are indicative of the fact that, despite my best efforts, I am still shedding the ubiquitous patriarchal conditioning that tells me I have no value or worth unless I can do—something. Traditionally that something was bearing and raising children, cooking and cleaning house, making and mending clothing, growing food. I have long felt that I must ‘do’ in order to earn my right to inhabit this planet. Patriarchy tells me I am only valued to the extent I am productive. As my body ages, being productive becomes harder. Many women struggle with these questions daily, especially older women like myself. And no doubt some men as well.

Legacy of Carol P. Christ: SHE WHO CHANGES*

This was originally posted on May 21, 2012

She changes everything She touches and everything She touches changes. The world is Her body. The world is in Her and She is in the world. She surrounds us like the air we breathe. She is as close to us as our own breath. She is energy, movement, life, and change. She is the ground of freedom, creativity, sympathy, understanding, and love. In Her we live, and move, and co-create our being. She is always there for each and every one of us, particles of atoms, cells, animals, and human animals. We are precious in Her sight. She understands and remembers us with unending sympathy. She inspires us to live creatively, joyfully, and in harmony with others in the web of life. Yet choice is ours. The world that is Her body is co-created. The choices of every individual particle of an atom, every individual cell, every individual animal, every individual human animal play a part. The adventure of life on planet earth and in the universe as a whole will be enhanced or diminished by the choices we make. She hears the cries of the world, sharing our sorrows with infinite compassion. In a still, small voice, She whispers the desire of Her heart: Life is meant to be enjoyed. She sets before us life and death. We can choose life. Change is. Touch is. Everything we touch can change.

Ariadne and Me – Stumbling Toward the Divine by Arianne MacBean

The Sacred Myrtle Tree with its protective fence at Paliani Monastery

I went to Crete because I longed for some kind of communion with Ariadne. Each time I gathered in ritual with the women on my trip, I hoped She would speak to me, or that I would feel something and know that She was in me, or I within Her. At Paliani, I had these same wishes as I walked toward the over-1000-year-old sacred myrtle tree. Set back in the corner of the quiet convent, I was struck by the contrast between the tree’s black bark and surrounding black fence set against the hopeful flickering of silver ex-votos that filled each branch. I walked around the back of the tree on a slight upper landing and searched for a branch within reach. Finding a spot where I could rest my forearm, albeit awkwardly, I leaned in and waited for Her.

Life-Giving Blood by Michelle Bodle

“What did you think?” This question was posed to me by a young woman I am mentoring in ministry. After receiving The Book of Womanhood by Amy Davis Abdallah as a gift, she asked me to walk through the book and discuss it with her, as suggested in the introduction.

I inhaled deeply before replying that I thought Davis Abdallah was writing from a posture of privilege that she was completely unaware of – and that deeply troubled me.

Davis Abdallah’s premise is that Christian women need a rite of passage accompanying the journey of getting to know themselves. Piloted at the former Nyack College where Davis Abdallah taught, Woman was a program that sought to develop a Christian right of passage for women focused on relationships with God, self, others, and creation.