Feminism and Religion

Oh, California, My California by Marie Cartier

Marie in the Pacific Palisades, circa 2000

This is my home—California…I moved here from New Hampshire, Boston, upstate New York, Ohio, Colorado…why did I move here? I kept moving West…I used to say I came as far as I could without falling into the ocean.

California. My wife is a native Californian. She says people come here for “the California promise.” And we’ll say it often –what is that? Oh yes, the California promise. The sunset drops into the ocean. A true orange ball of spreading colors into pinks, reds…and then it slips into the ocean.

I take my dog Zuma, named after a California beach…to Huntington Dog Beach where she can run two miles before she even has to turn around. A life “other dogs just dream about” says travel mags. I make a wish on every sunset I see that slides into the Pacific. Past the edge of my world into the deep ocean…A moon will rise. A waxing gibbous, a full, a waning gibbous, a new, a dark, a crescent…and I will walk under those, too, and make wishes, too.

The Need for Roots: Mutual Aid by Beth Bartlett

In those first few days after the holidays, when the togetherness, warmth, and happy times with family and friends came to an abrupt end, a song my son used to sing as a small child kept running through my mind:

Keep Christmas with you all through the year.
When Christmas is over, save some Christmas cheer.
These precious moments, hold them very dear
And keep Christmas with you all through the year..

The simple glee of my 21-month-old grandson finding ways to scoot and slide down the small icy slope in our backyard was enough to keep the grief over the loss of my sister and my recent loss of my dearest friend at bay. But in the days after their departure, as I spent time with my friend’s family planning her memorial gathering and visited another dear friend who has chosen to enter hospice in her final days of a terminal illness, coupled with the hooded ogre of the approaching Project 2025, saving Christmas cheer has had its challenges.

But my son found a way. He and his wife decided they didn’t want the precious times to end, and within a week had decided to pull up stakes from their home 150 miles away, found and signed on to buy a house just five minutes from our home so that the precious moments could continue.

Amphitrite: Greek Sea Goddess — Balance, Abundance and Protection, by Judith Shaw

In the origin stories of the Greek deities the overarching importance of water, which surrounds their domain, is undeniable. Water held the power of life, death and renewal.

In each successive pantheon of Greek goddesses and gods — the Primordials, the Titans, and the Olympians — a goddess and a god ruled the seas together. During the time of the Primordial deities, it was Thalassa and Pontus, followed by the Titans, Thetys and Oceanus, and Doris and Nereu, and finally by the Olympians, Amphitrite and Poseidon.

“Amphitrite, Greek Sea Goddess,” gouache on paper, 11″ x 17″ by Judith Shaw

Cats Tales by Sara Wright

Awakening to an image
cattails in the marsh?
When I drive by
curled brown rushes
crush stiffened
seed swords
a few gray puffs rising
under sail
dull brown capsules
cracked by winter cold
opalescent ice crystals
mirror solid gray sheets
stretch across the horizon
Why then
cattails in my dreams?

Two days later
Lynx strides by the window
self-possessed, tufted ears
erect fine points,
  feathery furred
paws sliding
over frozen snow
striped buff and coal
rounding
the corner a
  sinewy vision
   of serpentine grace
purpose unveiled
she picks up the trail
avian hieroglyphics
lead her on
my wild turkeys
freeze
perch high
in the trees
a forest of eyes
peer down through
evergreen boughs

Cats can climb.

Legacy of Carol P. Christ: Why I am Running In The Greek National Parliamentary Elections On May 6

This post was originally published on April 30th, 2012. Perhaps some of us may be inspired to run for office next!

Carol P. Christ, a founding mother in the study of Women and Religion and Feminist Theo/a/logy, has been active in anti-racist, anti-poverty, anti-war, feminist, pro-gay and lesbian, anti-nuclear, and environmental causes (in that order) for many years. All of these issues have informed her teaching, her scholarship, and her politics.

Greece is in the throes of a terrible economic crisis. National elections were called last week and will be held on Sunday May 6.

I am one of the 5 candidates for the Greek Parliament on the Green Party ticket in electoral region of Lesbos. We are a small country of only about 10 million people. The Lesbos district includes about 100,000 people. It is truly amazing that I as an immigrant have been asked to run. It is also amazing that though most of our politicians are corrupt, our electoral system has not yet been completely bought. No polls are allowed during the last 2 weeks of the election. The final poll indicated that the Green Party will have a voice in parliament for the first time on May 7. No Green candidate from Lesbos is likely to become a member of parliament, but all of the votes we gather will be counted towards the party’s total representation. Unfortunately two right wing fascist parties are also likely to get seats, and no party looks poised to gain a ruling majority. What will happen next is anyone’s guess.

Ecofeminist Petra Kelly was one of the founders of the European Green Party of which we are part. Due in part to her good work, the Green Party’s goals include: sustainability, social justice, nonviolence, and participatory democracy. Not a hard platform to run on! Continue reading “Legacy of Carol P. Christ: Why I am Running In The Greek National Parliamentary Elections On May 6”

I Am Wicked by Chaz J.

*When I refer to Black women, I am referring specifically to descendants of African peoples that were forced to experience the dehumanization of chattel slavery in the United States. I refer to those who would build the foundation of the country, uncredited. Those whose descendants continue the legacy of fighting for liberation.

When a sister-friend invited me to see Wicked, I was hesitant. I’d never seen the show, and my attention span hadn’t even allowed me to finish The Wizard of Oz or The Wiz (the Black rendition). However, seeing the wicked witch, Elphaba, portrayed as a Black woman changed everything. It felt deeply personal; a reflection of my own life as a Black woman in predominantly white environments. As a womanist theologian, centering Black women’s experiences is central to my daily and theological framework, and this felt like a powerful synchronicity and spiritual experience aligning with my newly entered villain era!

Oran Mor, The Great Song of Creation, Part 2 by Iona Jenkins

Part 1 was posted yesterday. You can read it here.

After moving to Wales, I had more slow listening time, where I could even create personal rituals to tune into the Great Song. I became aware of the voices of birds, the rustling of daffodils, the washing of waves upon the shore below the cliff outside my window. Internally it is reflected as a beautiful chorale under a dreaming full moon, mystical merging with a starlit sky, or wakeful in the golden call of sunrise. The Universe puts on an inspiring sound and light show whether we listen or not. Sometimes when I write poetry it feels like Creation is singing through me.

Oran Mor, The Great Song of Creation, Part 1 by Iona Jenkins

Celtic myth tells of the Oran Mor, the Great Song of Creation that upholds life itself.

I remember my sense of wonder and excitement when I first stumbled across this concept in The Mist Filled Path, written by Scottish/Irish/American shaman Frank MacEowen. I began an immediate quest to discover more, but internet searches produced very little information, and as there were no books available relating only to the Great Song, I concluded that perhaps information had been passed down verbally by Bards, slowly receding into the mist as Christianity became more established in the British Isles. Each time I mention the Oran Mor to someone else, they too become energised and enthusiastic, as if they sense the magic reawakening. MacEowen, who certainly encountered it on his own Mist filled Path, wrote:

“The reason we find no evidence of this Celtic Creation story, is because it is a living story – A story that waits for us to remember. In other words, no matter how hard we look, we will not find the story outside ourselves. We have all been woven into the story, it is our story, and it continues to unfold.”
p.113, The Mist-Filled Path, Frank MacEowen, 2002 New World Library

Broken Human Bonds by Janet Maika’i Rudolph

Author’s Note: I originally wrote this in the fall when Andrea Robin Skinner started going public with her own story. It has taken me a while to contemplate posting it. It feels like this is such a common story that it needs to be shared. We all need to know that we are not alone and that each of us is lovable.

Whenever I hit a personal and/or emotionally raw topic, my first instinct is to turn to Tarot cards to see what lessons I need to learn. I use Rachel Pollack’s Shining Tribe deck (more on that later). I have been finding myself in this situation recently with the revelations of Andrea Robin Skinner, daughter of the renowned Nobel Prize winning writer Alice Munro. Andea waited until her mother died before she revealed publicly that her step-father began sexually abusing her when she was nine years old. When she had told her mother about it, Munro blamed Andrea for damaging her marriage. The stepfather at issue publicly called Skinner even though a child at the time, a “homewrecker.” He did this in a letter which included death threats. Abuse, blame, threats tools of patriarchy all. Skinner’s own mother didn’t seek to protect daughter but chose instead to shield the abuser. A betrayal of the most primal sort!

The Grandfathers, part 2 by Sara Wright

Yesterday’s post which you can read here, ended with this line from the Grandfather, “The young people will become confused and when all is finally lost then the Creator will return to restore not just the Tewa but all tribal peoples to the land.”

I experienced wild hope surfacing… I had heard words to this effect before but assumed that the people needed that story to go on. Suddenly I wasn’t so sure… something about the way this man talked to me made me believe him. He exuded a complex sense of deep humility, knowledge and authority. I thought about the ravages of Climate Change and the disgusting cross-cultural belief that the Earth’s job was to serve humanity. My rational brain went on overload giving me a thousand reasons why what he predicted couldn’t be true, almost as if it needed to win this round (ah, Patriarchy exposes itself – if you don’t win you lose). Yes, it was true that we were in a state of breakdown… he didn’t deny it but he also made it clear that this was not the end. First we had to survive the breakdown, and living through it is a challenge that some like me live with every day. These are dark times.