Feminism and Religion

Legacy of Carol P. Christ: The Black Horse: Our Bodies, Our Selves

This was originally posted on Sept 23, 2011

“The driver…falls back like a racing charioteer at the barrier, and with a still more violent backward pull jerks the bit from between the teeth of the lustful horse, drenches his abusive tongue and jaws with blood, and forcing his legs and haunches against the ground reduces him to torment. Finally, after several repetitions of this treatment, the wicked horse abandons his lustful ways; meekly now he executes the wishes of his driver, and when he catches sight of the loved one [i.e. his master] is ready to die of fear.”

I can’t seem to get this image from Plato’s Phaedrus quoted in Val Plumwood’s Feminism and the Mastery of Nature out of my mind or my body these days. The other day I tried to read the above passage to a friend and my body became so tense that I accidentally cut off the phone connection—twice. Now while I am writing my muscles are tight, and I am beginning to get a headache. I cannot get the image of the black horse out of my mind because “she” (I know that Plato’s horse was a “he”) has lived in my body for as long as I remember. She probably first took root in my body when I began to fear my father’s discipline. She became bigger and stronger every time someone or something in culture told me that my body and the feelings of my body were bad, that I as a girl or woman was unworthy, that the things I cared about were not important, that my thoughts were wrong.

From the Archives: “I Missed a Day Again: Reflections on Hanukkah.”

Author’s note: This post was orginally published December 13th 2015. Nonetheless, I still find this post relevant and my hope is that you, dear reader, do as well. Chag semeach!

When I first started back on my journey to reclaim Judaism, I distinctly remember the first Hanukkah I lit candles. Not only was I bringing light into the literal darkness of night, I was also kindling the divine spark within myself. Each night I walked through a meditation I had created using the letters of the word Hanukkah, since there were eight letters and eight nights. I remember some of the words I had assigned to the nights: Holiness, Attentiveness, Night, Understand, Knowledge and Keep. I can’t remember the rest, but I do remember feeling the calm of the candlelight and the deepness of the meditation. I also remember that at some point, either I missed a night of lighting or I repeated one night twice because the days were officially over, and I still hadn’t lit all eight candles.

Initiation and Descent, part 2 by Terry Folks

Part 1 was posted yesterday, you can read it here.

Stage Nine – Reward (Seizing the Sword) – Healing the Mother/Daughter Split

Some contemporary versions of the Heroine’s Journey have the heroine or hero seizing the sword quite dramatically. She takes possession of the treasure ‘sword’ as knowledge, experience, or greater understanding. My reward was more subtle but deeply profound. It took Her awhile to help me understand but eventually I stopped fighting and leaned into Mother Mountain. When I was calmer, when I became still, stopped trying so hard … when I finally surrendered I was able to ask Her why.

Why Mother Mountain? Why COVID? Why now?

Her response was as clear as though She was speaking in my ear:

“It was the only way we could meet each other. Every step you have taken up to now has led you to this sacred moment.”

I wept.

Initiation and Descent part 1 by Terry Folks

Review: In my first two posts about my recent Goddess Pilgrimage to Crete, I invited you to consider your stage in your current Heroine’s Journey as you followed me.

In my hybrid of Joseph Campbell’s mono-myth with feminist scholar Maureen Murdock’s version, the first six stages of the Heroine’s journey are: Ordinary World, the Call to Adventure, Refusal of the Call, Arrival of Mentors, Crossing the First Threshold, and Encounters with Tests, Allies, and Enemies. These archetypal stages were overlaid with Murdock’s Separation from the Feminine, Identification with the Masculine, Gathering of Allies, Road of Trials, Meeting Ogres and Dragons, Finding the Boon of Success, and Awakening to Feelings of Spiritual Aridity and Death.

Briefly: At home on Vancouver Island, Canada, I was overworked, other-focused, burnt out and overwhelmed with horrific family crises. I was terrified of doing the Goddess Pilgrimage on my own. I finally accepted divine assistance and flew to Crete. I tested positive for COVID on the first day of the pilgrimage.

The Divine Presence Within and All Around Us by Xochitl Alvizo

Back in 2008, I took a class with Mark D. Jordan titled Queer Incarnation. As you can imagine from the title, the topic was the incarnation of God in Jesus within Christian understanding but though a queer theory lens.

The idea that God took flesh and made God’s home among us.

God took flesh.

Planting Seeds of Change by Nayeli Delgadillo

There are a lot of things that have led to both feminism and my spiritual path. One could say I am still at the start of my journey at 23 years old, and it may be true. I often meet people older than myself, and they are most surprised by two things; the age that I look versus the age that I am, and in that, the maturity of my thoughts.

I grew up very much in communion with my family, living in a duplex with my extended family only a few feet away. Every month there is at least one birthday, and we all come together Saturday, for the party, and Sunday for the recalentado (breakfast or brunch consisting of leftovers). It was on these Sunday’s that we would gather and talk about everything. The adults in the family didn’t keep us kids away from hard conversations, but instead included us. Conversations that included topics of racism, education, politics, science, war, religion etc. Me being the youngest cousin, before my sister was born (we are nine years apart), would always listen in and absorb, absorb, absorb. It wasn’t until middle school, and high school, where I was truly introduced to a more serious history of the world, that these conversations started to really unravel and make sense to me. It was toward this time my cousins were also in high school, or just finishing, and so, the conversations became more lively. I started to understand why we spoke about the things we spoke about, even when it seemed like no one else was.

Lilliputian Gardening by Sara Wright

This November morning a slate gray sky sprinkled raindrops on the dogs as I stood outdoors with them at dawn. A single Blue jay peered at us from a bare maple branch with obvious interest. Hairy was absent as were the chickadees. It is warm enough today for insects to be out and about, becoming delectable protein rich food for most birds in Fern Hollow, my home. Just two days ago I had a visit from a ruby crowned kinglet when he flew in the door!

Returning to the house, ‘Mary’s Garden’ cast a warm emerald glow lighting up the kitchen, now shrouded in winter gray. My terrarium, now one year old is moving into late fall, and yet many of her plants are still growing, albeit more slowly. The tiny hemlock seedling is bristling with new needles. A few ferns still unfurl; others have disappeared. The creeping partridgeberry has kept her crimson seeds for a whole year.

Legacy of Carol P. Christ: Football as a Ritual Re-enacting Male Domination Through Force and Violence

This was originally posted on November 18, 2011

The other day when Paula McGee asked on this blog how Penn State students could rally in support of Sandusky, I was also reading a student paper quoting Rianne Eisler’s opinion that peace and environmental justice cannot be achieved in dominator cultures. Xochitl Alvizo commented that we should not be surprised by the reactions of the students as we live in a “rape” culture. I would add that we must examine the culture of male domination through force that is “football,” one of the “sacred cows” of American patriarchy, just as we need to examine the culture of hierarchical male domination of the Vatican in the context of child-rape by priests.

Winged Women Deeply Rooted by Carolyn Lee Boyd

Like deeply planted oaks, the women once dwelled together in peace,
Their feet covered with nourishing soil and arms outstretched,
Branches of flesh to connect with the living air.
Like laughing leaves swooping in the sky,
The women once jubilantly soared as one
Above the skin of the Earth.

As a young child, I dreamt that if I stood very straight,
Tensed all my muscles and closed my eyes,
I would slowly rise into the air a few inches,
Propel myself with my arms wherever I wished to go,
Then land again as gently as a rose petal on the wind.
But the only time I tried to ascend even a breath’s measure,
I failed, landbound, unsure and giftless.

The Dying Throes of Patriarchy in the House of the United States by Caryn MacGrandle

Women all nationalities stand with their proud heads speaking out against patriarchy struggle for empowerment.

The other day I wrote on the Mother Well feed section of my app my disappointment about the new House Speaker Mike Johnson.

Mike has proposed and supported bigoted and racist filled legislation. He is against same sex marriage, abortions and even was accused of making changes to legislation to allow clergy to refuse to perform marriage for interracial couples.

Yes, you read that correctly.

Yes, this is 2023.