Feminism and Religion

Round and Round: The Circle Game by Sara Wright

It’s raining again. In five days, the moon will be full as s/he turns her pearl -like face towards September while her rabbit prepares his treachery, and oh I am so ready to leave this season behind. This is the first year where we have viscerally experienced the reality of what a Changing Climate really means to people in Maine. A summer of floods, months of rain, gray clouds, massive humidity, the worst bugs I ever remember, and poor air quality may force even the most skeptical to pause. Extremes. Of course, what has happened here is nothing like what is going on elsewhere. Tornados, fires, drought, and intense heat have ripped through the rest of the continent tearing both human and non-human lives to shreds. Most of the earth is on fire. I would like to think that we are finally learning that our country is not immune to the unpredictability that comes with climate warming. “You are hopelessly naïve” a Voice states sternly. I bow my head. We are living the Unknown and most are denying it.

Legacy of Carol P. Christ: Essentialism Reconsidered

This was originally posted on September 15, 2014

In my Ecofeminism class we have been discussing essentialism because some feminists have alleged that other feminists, particularly ecofeminists and Goddess feminists, are “essentialists.” They argue that essentialist views reinforce traditional stereotypes including those that designate men as rational and women as emotional. I too find essentialism problematic, but I do not agree that Goddess feminism and ecofeminism are intrinsically essentialist.

Goddess feminists and ecofeminists criticize classical dualism: the traditions of thinking that value reason over emotion and feeling, male over female, man over nature. We argued that the western rational tradition sowed the seeds of the environmental crisis when it separated “man” from “nature.”

Goddess feminists and ecofeminists affirm the connections between women and nature in an environmental worldview that acknowledges the interconnection of all beings in the web of life.

HONEY SELLERS by Kapka Kassabova with Intro by Laura Shannon

Introduction to Kapka Kassabova’s ‘Honey Sellers‘, by Laura Shannon

Kapka Kassabova. Author photo by Tony Davidson. Used by permission.

After my recent review of Kapka Kassabova’s latest book, Elixir: The Valley at the End of Time, I am delighted to share an excerpt from Elixir with FAR readers here, by kind permission of the author and the publisher.

Elixir is an astounding book, revealing a little-known world of foragers, healers, and mystics in a remote corner of Bulgaria. Here people live in profound connection to nature, with respect for herbs and the earth and older women, echoing the peaceful Neolithic civilisations which once flourished in the same valley Kassabova describes.

Snapshots from the Parliament of World Religions by Janet Maika’i Rudolph

The Parliament of World Religions ran from Aug 14^th to the 18^thin Chicago. I returned with my head spinning having met new people, connected with inspiring beliefs, discussed fascinating ideas, watched meaningful performances, engaged in sacred play, danced, sang, cried, ate, and mostly experienced . . . just experienced. It is still overwhelming to sort out individual experiences. I am going to write up a few of my impressions, snapshot style. They scratch the surface, not only of my individual experience but of the Parliament in general where upwards of 7,000 people attended. It was incredible

Setting the tableau: As I was going down the escalator, a woman was followed by 2 groups were heading up. The woman was beautiful and young in full Mayan dress with white blouse, long orange skirt along with headdress and belt with Mayan symbols. Her thick dark hair was flowing down her back.

She was followed by five Sikh men who were dressed head to foot in white. Their heads and hair were covered by white turbans.

They were followed by two Buddhist nuns dressed in grey robes carrying beads. Their heads were shaved.

Such scenes were common.

Welcome to the Psychopomp Dreamhouse! by Stacey Simmon, PhD

When I first heard a Barbie movie was going to be released this summer I groaned. Like the awful complements of GI Joe, American Girl, and Trolls, I assumed that the content of this film would be designed to fleece parents out of the cost of tickets and popcorn. I am delighted to report that I was completely mistaken. Not only does Barbie enchant, she also delivers a complex message about idealism and womanhood.

But Barbie’s most important revelation is in her role as a psychopomp between the world of the ideal and the world of the real. Barbie Land is like a patriarchal heaven. Women are ideal, they don’t have flaws. They get shit done without breaking a sweat or wearing comfortable shoes, and the men are the accessories. It is what I imagine all the men who struggle with patriarchy idealize about what it would mean to be a beautiful, flawless woman- all of the power, where men can relax and be accessories for a change.

Reclaiming Our Birthright of Joy by Mary Gelfand

Part 2 was posted yesterday

In my earlier piece on joy I wrote about collective joy—the kind that can be experienced in larger groups of people engaging in a shared experience that brings them a sense of joy and connection, like dancing in the streets. Here I’m talking about a more personal kind of joy, shared perhaps with a few people.

Speaking as a woman and a feminist, I have often been conflicted about joy. Sure I want to experience joy, but I often feel guilty about it. How can I allow myself to feel the simple joy that beauty and cosmic connection can bring when there is so much suffering in the world? When I was finally able to accept that denying myself joy did not reduce the suffering of others and was harmful to me, I was able to move past the guilt trip induced by my Christian upbringing. I began to look for ways to bring more joy into my life, and discovered a mother-lode of wisdom from multiple sources.

Collective Joy as Our Birthright by Mary Gelfand

One of two pieces on Joy, part 2 tomorrow.

Joy was not a conspicuous presence in my childhood home. My parents were kind and loving, but both had been raised in the Protestant conservatism of rural Alabama during the Depression years. Laughter, contemporary music, dancing, drinking—none of these were part of my growing up years. Attending church was our primary social activity. I started middle school in the mid-1960s having never heard of the Beatles, Chubby Checker, or the Twist.

Instinctively, I felt that there must be more to religious experiences than the dull passivity of listening to an old white man lecture on details of an antiquated religious text. Psalm 100 in the Hebrew Bible instructs us to “Make a joyful noise unto the Lord,” but I couldn’t find joy anywhere in my home church. Even my relationship with Jesus, which felt sacred and special, was dimmed by the constant focus on Jesus’ suffering and death and my concurrent obligation to avoid sin at all costs.

August: A Summer to Reflect, and a Time to Start Letting Go by Sara Wright

This has been an unusual summer. I can still listen to a roaring brook as I fall asleep at night. The flooding has been intense. The humidity is hardest to bare; I am grateful my cellar is finally free of water if not drying out. Our overall weather pattern remains the same; thundershowers almost every day; many clouds and thick morning fog. And tropical hurricane season is underway.

I am grateful for the moss and tall grasses that still glow lemony- lime emerald and sage green. My frog pond is empty except for snails; all the tadpoles have matured into tiny froglets that have disappeared into the dense foliage I have provided for them; ferns and anemones tower over others. A large toad only shows himself/herself mostly at night when he hunts from the water dish I leave for him. Wild bee balm spikes are in bloom providing bees and hummingbirds with enough food for now. Some bee balm are ragged around the edges but the rain has brought in a second blooming cycle. My magic bean, the one I planted in March (in the house) has masses of deep orange flowers just outside my window. Grape leaves are climbing over the ground and visiting with the bean vine.

Legacy of Carol P. Christ: The Sacred Feminine or Goddess Feminism?

This was originally posted on January 25, 2016

In recent years “the Sacred Feminine” has become interchangeable with (for some) and preferable to (for others) “Goddess” and “Goddess feminism.” The terms Goddess and feminism, it is sometimes argued, raise hackles: Is Goddess to replace God? And if so why? Does feminism imply an aggressive stance? And if so, against whom or what?

In contrast, the term “sacred feminine” (with or without caps) feels warm and fuzzy, implying love, care, and concern without invoking the G word or even the M(other) word–about which some people have mixed feelings. Advocates of the sacred feminine stand against no one, for men have their “sacred feminine” sides, while women have their “sacred masculine” sides as well.

Nothing lost, and much to be gained. Right? Wrong.

Fear and Need in the Absence of Mother God, part 2 by Caryn MacGrandle

Yesterday’s part 1 post quoted from the book, The Malleus Maleficarum

Witches Well in Edinburgh, Scotland, …the Roman numerals for 1479 on one side and 1722 [years when witch persecution was most prominent]

The book wasn’t just a message for women but for all. The tenets that formed the backbone of colonial culture:

Paddle your own canoe.
Success comes with hard individual effort when you stay within the lines that we draw.
And if you fail? Well, that’s on you.
Maybe you will get another shot if you are lucky, work relentlessly and act as you should.
And never ever forget that your worth is defined by the number of 0’s in your bank account.