Women’s Voices – Page 7 – 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.

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.

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

“Care -a- vans” by Beth Bartlett

“ . . . when people no longer have the space to construct homeplace, . . .”
Minnesotans mobilize – providing home wherever the need arises

On Friday, January 23^rd, seven hundred faith leaders from across the country heeded a call that had been put out just a few days before to come to Minneapolis to train, to observe, and to protest actions by ICE agents in the Twin Cities. Hundreds of them gathered in an interfaith service at Temple Israel. Others joined the National Prayer Call for Minnesota. And still others headed to the Minneapolis-St. Paul airport to engage in nonviolent direct action against the MSP airport authority, and Delta Airlines and Signature Aviation in particular, for their complicity with ICE in transporting those arrested either for deportation or for removal to other detention facilities.

While I was simultaneously livestreaming both the Temple Israel service and the National Prayer, Cal, my son, was among those headed to the airport. In the midst of my concern for his and others’ safety from both the bitter cold – it was -40 below windchill – and from the violence of ICE agents, came the words of Rabbi Marcia Zimmerman offering a prayer for all those engaging in the protests that morning. In that moment, my anxiety eased as I could feel them all being surrounded by the prayer shawl of protection. Then, in a stunning moment of synchronicity, the cantor at Temple Israel sang while a Buddhist priest on the National Prayer Call invoked the blessings of Kuan Yin, goddess of compassion – the compassion that moved the protestors to act, but also that which surrounded the protestors with care. For while thousands engaged in protests that day – 50,000 at the march in sub-zero weather, and thousands more daily participate in protests on the streets and outside the Whipple Building – the ICE detention center in St. Paul, or act as constitutional observers throughout the Twin Cities and greater Minnesota, even more are engaged in daily acts of sustenance and care to support the protestors and those afraid to leave their homes for fear of being detained and disappeared by ICE. These acts of care are at the very heart of the resistance.

In these United States: A Gratitude Poem, after all, for 2025, by Marie Cartier

Oh yes, I’m grateful for the Portland frog—that blow up adult sized character with the pink scarf blowing back in the wind facing down a squad of ICE “officers.”

I’m so grateful for all the blow-up adult size characters who showed up at the largest protest for anything, single day protest in the U.S. to shout NO KINGS!! And more—the blow-up Tiger with the sign “Fascists get scratches!” My wife inside a blow-up bear, the California bear! With a sign that said, “Yes on 50!”

And so grateful we won: yes, on 50!

Grateful, grateful, for Indivisible! Spreading like Morning Glory. Glory! Glory! Across all 50 states and feeding people, feeding children, passing out whistles – alerting communities when ICE is nearby, stopping ICE in their tracks when they are places, especially in front of schools… I mean, why are they there? (As Gertude says, “There is no there there.”)

But this is a grateful poem. A rant.

I’m grateful for the blow-up unicorn with the sign, “Honk if you are not on the Epstein list.” Dancing on the curb with the rest of us. I’m grateful for all the cars honking as they went by us and all the food donated to give to people in need—some of those in hiding since last spring when this b.s. started – this f*** bullshit– but this is a grateful poem. A rant.

Caravanserai and Other Poems by Annelinde Metzner

This set of poems reflects on ways we humans have responded creatively, expansively and artistically to the challenges of our times. Of course, two of the poems center upon music, one of the strongest themes of my own life. The first and last poems are ways that the natural world is always knocking at the door, saying, “pay attention.”

Like this

“Like this,” says the titmouse,
hanging upside down to get at the suet.
“If you really want it, there it is.”
“Like this,” says the January sun,
one day icing us to our bones,
and today like Spring,
warm enough for rides
on little boys’ new scooters.
“Like this,” say the squirrels,
entranced with each other,
whirling ’round the branches,
twining fluffy tails,
intent on making new Squirrel babies.
“Like this,” says the chickadee,
landing near my toe,
tiny and brave, ready to eat,
scolding me to get out of the way.
“You are here to live,
so live.”

The Perfection of Our Imperfection by Margot Van Sluytman/Raven Speaks. Heyoka

Prufrock Again

In this our divine
Comedy of delight
Of destruction
Troubled waters
Calm. Quenching
Us yet again
For in
Our penchant
For beauty
We remake
Over and over again
The tale that tries to
Tame us. Gathering
In circles of hope
Once more we remember
How we remember