Children of German Immigrant Farmers in Cherry Ridge: American Stories by Carol P. Christ

In my genealogy research, I traced my father’s grandmother, Catherine, to her roots on the Iloff farm in Cherry Ridge, Honesdale, Pennsylvania, about two hours north of New York City. Catherine’s parents were Henry Iloff, who emigrated in 1841 from St. Nicholas, Saarland, and Catherina Lattauer who emigrated in 1845 or 1846 from Ober-Floerscheim, Hesse-Darmstadt. They were married February 2, 1846 at St. Matthew’s Church in “Little Germany” on the Lower East Side of Manhattan.

Iloff farmhouse

In 1850, Henry and Catherina purchased land in Cherry Ridge, Honesdale, where they built the farm that remained in the family for a hundred years. In 1851 Catherina’s sister Agnes Lattauer Schweizer emigrated with her family from Ober-Floerscheim to Cherry Ridge. The Schweizer farm also remained in the family for a hundred years.

I had been told about the family Henry Iloff had with two wives who were somehow related: nine children with his first wife and nine with his second over a forty year period–fourteen of whom were living at the time of his death in 1889. I was shocked to learn that when his first wife died in 1869, Henry married his wife’s sister’s daughter Johanna Schweizer–who was half his age and his children’s cousin. I suspect that the marriage was considered scandalous in a conservative farming community, and that it did not sit well with the children of the first marriage, four of whom left the local area. Nonetheless, Henry Iloff was elected to the prestigious position of Wayne County Commissioner a decade later. Continue reading “Children of German Immigrant Farmers in Cherry Ridge: American Stories by Carol P. Christ”

On Snakes by Ivy Helman

imageIn the ancient world, snakes represented fertility, creativity, rebirth, wisdom and, even, death.  They were often closely connected to female goddesses, priestesses and powerful human females who were the embodiment of such powers.    For example, there is the Minoan goddess/priestess holding the two snakes in her outstretched arms.  She is closely linked with fertility and domesticity.  Similar figurines, with similar associations and dating to approximately 1200 BCE, have also been founded in the land of what once was Canaan, where Israelites also lived.  Medusa, in whose hair lived venomous snakes, turned men who looked at her to stone.  Ovid’s account of the creation of Medusa credits the Greek goddess Athena with Medusa’s lively hair.  Another Greek legend says Perseus, after killing Medusa, gave her head to Athena who incorporated it into her shield.  Athena, the goddess of wisdom, is portrayed often with snakes wrapped around her as a belt and/or on the floor next to her. Continue reading “On Snakes by Ivy Helman”

The Protest Goddess by Angela Yarber

I’ve long held that feminism, in order to be true and engaged and practical, must be intersectional. The work of justice for women must also include justice for other marginalized groups. Because many women are also LGBTQ, people of color, people with disabilities, Muslims, immigrants, and others marginalized for identities other than their gender. Paying attention to these intersections—of sexuality, gender, race, class, ability, religion—and acknowledging that many people have multiple intersecting identities for which they are oppressed is vital to the work of justice.

These thoughts remained at the forefront of my mind as I recently marched in one of the sister marches of the Women’s March in my home of Hilo, Hawaii. I heard many straight, white, cisgender women claim that women are not oppressed while mocking the march as irrelevant. I heard some gay men purport that such a march was unnecessary. And I wondered. Are not women of color also women? Muslim women? Immigrant women? Women with disabilities? Queer women? Trans women? Are not our quests for liberation and rights and legal validity interrelated, mutually dependent, might I even say, intersectional? Continue reading “The Protest Goddess by Angela Yarber”

My Name is Isis BOOK REVIEW by Kay Bee

My Name Is Isis by Susan Morgaine is the fourth book in the My Name Is series from The Girl God; a series of picture books for children. The series serves as a child’s gentle & colorful introduction to one particular Goddess per book.

In My Name is Isis, Susan Morgaine invites her young readers into a dialogue with the Goddess. For example, when sharing Her role as Great Mother & Protector, Isis asks “Do you have brothers or sisters — or a pet — that you help take care of?” inviting the reader to consider what it means to be nurturing and protective of someone they love. The conversational style is engaging and creates an opportunity for a child to see characteristics of the Divine within themselves.

The cover art and design of this particular book is not my favorite in the My Name is series. I find this one unappealing to children in comparison to the earlier volumes. However, the illustrations inside the book are luminous and include many beautiful examples of women’s bodies that serve to normalizing the sacred nature of diverse feminine forms. Many of the symbols, animals, and features associated with Isis are also depicted, such as Isis as a kite, searching the world for Her missing husband.

Parents should be aware that as a part of exploring Her story, the text does touch on death & the loss of loved ones. It does so gently and encourages children to know that their deceased loved ones live on in their hearts. Sensitive children who struggle with the concepts of death, dying, or grief may need help processing these few pages.

I especially loved the pages about Isis as Teacher and her firm, loving admonishments to “treat your teachers with honor and respect as they show you the things you must learn.” Teachers need a Great Goddess looking out for them and the incredible work they do every day. So, this was a sweet addition to the aspects of the Goddess Susan explores and the lessons she and Isis convey to their audience.

Overall, this truly is a lovely picture book that Pagan/Goddess parents could use to introduce young children to Isis as Great Mother, Teacher, & Healer. Hopefully, Susan Morgaine will write more future volumes in the series, bringing young Pagan children into conversation with more Goddesses. Continue reading “My Name is Isis BOOK REVIEW by Kay Bee”

Questions that Matter: What is Feminism? by Elise M. Edwards

elise-edwardsIt certainly is a busy time of year for me, but I’m fortunate that many of the events I am participating in offer a chance to share what is important to me.  Next week, I’ll be speaking to a group of students in one of my campus’ residence halls about feminism and Christianity.  For this informal setting, I was allowed to choose my own topic under the broad heading of “Questions That Matter.” I’ve decided to take on the f-word in religion and attempt to explain why it’s important to me and how it relates to my religious identity.  Although I’m still trying to figure out what to say, I’d like to share my thoughts so far and get some insight from you. Continue reading “Questions that Matter: What is Feminism? by Elise M. Edwards”

My Journey to Define Libyan Feminism by Samah Elbelazi

Before coming to the U.S., I felt disconnected from feminist theory. I thought this framework labels women as haters of men and seekers of obscure rights. I was not sure who could identify with it or belong to it. For me, it was just a scholarly concept women used to justify their rights. I could not perceive it as an empowering tool, even if it is being so popular. While there is no problem having the concept to be loud and popular, this loud voice did not speak for me. I could not let it represent me or speak on my behalf. Every time I google it, I see angry faces, naked women, people yelling, women in chains, and much more. Instead of accepting it, I resisted it.

At that time, my understanding of feminism was associated with women’s liberation outside the circle of culture and religion. It scared me since I am who I am because of my culture, my community, and my religion. This feminism has my respect, but it is alien and does not call for my needs. For a long time, I resisted feminist discourse or, to be clear, white western feminism. Its discussion about equality, oppression, and marginalization is different from mine. I knew that as a Muslim woman, I had no room in this discourse.

Until one day, things started to change. Continue reading “My Journey to Define Libyan Feminism by Samah Elbelazi”

Teachers by Valentina Khan

I recently told my 4-year-old son the following, “son, I pray you fall in love with someone you call your best friend. I pray you both never cross the line and say mean and terrible things to each other, I pray you are not constantly apologizing for your bad behavior, I pray you will complement and enhance each other’s best qualities, and lastly, I really hope you fall in love with a teacher!”

A teacher? Of course, a teacher! I have always loved my teachers growing up. I never had one bad teacher. Teachers are caregivers and authority figures children experience separate from their own parents. Each teacher brings his or her unique love of learning and educating to the students. I was influenced so much by the vibe of teachers. And in the journey to my “career,” I became one myself….a yoga teacher.

A yoga teacher? Yes, a yoga teacher, which eventually led me to coming a ballet barre instructor. This all happened when, after a tedious and challenging few years of getting myself through law school, I rewarded myself with an entire summer off to become certified to teach yoga. Yoga got me through sticky times in my young adulthood, from soured relationships, to poor scores on my legal exams. It also kept my feet on the ground when I was flying high, whether from planning my wedding or completing my studies. Yoga was the antidote in my life. I cherished not requiring medication for all the different feelings I’ve had throughout my adult life; whether it was anxiety, depression, loss of focus, too much energy, or the run of the mill aches and pains, I always turned to yoga. The feeling of stretching and flushing out toxins, negative energy, frustration, while building strength and teaching myself how to breath, were all things I wanted to learn in more depth and, eventually, to teach. Continue reading “Teachers by Valentina Khan”

Great Goddess, Mother Goddess, Creatrix, Source of Life by Carol P. Christ

The symbol of the Goddess is as old as human history. The most ancient images of the Goddesses from the Paleolithic era are neither pregnant nor holding a child. In Neolithic Old Europe the Goddess was most commonly linked with birds or snakes and only rarely portrayed as mother. Yet we tend to equate the Goddess with the Mother Goddess. I suspect that images of the Virgin Mary with Jesus on her lap and prayers to God as Father have fused in our minds, leading us to think that the Goddess must be a Mother Goddess and primarily a Mother.

In a recent blog, Christy Croft reminded us that in our culture, women’s experiences of mothering and motherhood are not always positive:

[The mother] doesn’t always appear in our stories in simple or easy ways. Some of us mother children we did not or could not grow in our bodies; some of us birth babies who are now mothered by others. Some of us are not mothers at all. Some of us had mothers who could not love us unconditionally, or did not have mothers in our lives, or had mothers who brought us more pain and humiliation than comfort, from whose effects we are still recovering, are still healing.

Women who have had negative or painful experiences of motherhood or mothering may find the symbol of the Mother Goddess off-putting. Continue reading “Great Goddess, Mother Goddess, Creatrix, Source of Life by Carol P. Christ”

A Rescue Remedy, Part 2 by Barbara Ardinger

The handsome but uncharming prince having been magicked, the witch and her coconspirators know it’s time to focus on finding Ella. The witch looks around the table.

“Mrs. Janedoe and Mrs. Worthington,” she says, “you are two of our most highly experienced sauceresses…I mean sorceresses. Mrs. Bezukhov, you are also a woman of great, if temporarily diminished, power. Let us work together and see what we can do. Surely when people of good will work together they can raise energy that leads to positive results. Yes?” She looks around. “Please come up to my study.” The ravens of course know they are members of this ad hoc coven, and Mrs. Bezukhov goes out to her little room (actually a stall) in the barn to fetch her old scrying stone.

“Now,” says the witch, “we need to find out where Ella is and—”

“Before that,” says Kahlil, the prophetic raven, “we gotta fly that…er…sausage to the city ’n’ drop it on that lousy prince and hit ’im where it’ll do the most good. Make sure he got the message, doncha know. I got a new buddy who’ll fly with us.” He waves a wing at the window and another raven flies in. “This’s Icarus.” The new raven bows. “Despite his name, he’s a good flyer ’n’ he knows the safest routes to the capital and the bestest ways to get around the city.” Kahlil shows the bagged sausage to Icarus, who studies it and shakes his head like he’s just been attacked by a million fleas. “Okay,” says Kahlil, “youse girls just keep an eye on us in that there scrying stone.” He starts to rise from the table, but Mrs. Worthington stops him.

Continue reading “A Rescue Remedy, Part 2 by Barbara Ardinger”

Opening Our Hearts Through Armenian Dance by Laura Shannon

The candle represents the light of love, compassion and connection kindled in our hearts as we dance.
In these challenging times, one of the hardest things to do is to keep our hearts open. Grief and despair tend to shut them down. And even among close friends, colleagues, family members, and people with whom we share worship, when we clash over differing political opinions, trust can swiftly erode. These kinds of losses and sorrows can make us just want to close the doors to our hearts.
Yet hardened hearts and minds are not going to help us overcome conflicts and affirm connections. Only if we can open our hearts to one another, holding the fullness of our (and others’) feelings in a compassionate way, can we weather the storms which threaten to divide us further. And only if we are united can we find our way together through those storms.
One of the best ways I know to connect with others and to open my heart is through the joyful experience of traditional circle dance, particularly Armenian dances. I have written previously on this blog (The Dance of MemoryThe Wishing Tree) about Armenian dances and their ancient roots, their links to the pre-Christian Goddess, and how they affirm survival throughout the traumas of history. I have also written about my friend and colleague Shakeh Major Tchilingirian and her inspiring Circle of Life project, which brings Armenians, Turks, Kurds, Assyrians, and other survivors of atrocities and genocide to dance together for reconciliation.

Continue reading “Opening Our Hearts Through Armenian Dance by Laura Shannon”