family – Page 5 – Feminism and Religion

Luke 12:51-53: On the Verge of a Paradigm Shift by Elisabeth Schilling

I remember being quite happy when my values about body, faith, and purpose lined up with those of my parents. With the support of my Protestant evangelistic community as well, I was “bold and fearless,” not caring who might judge me or disagree with me because I was not standing on my own. The anxiety of becoming embarrassed or having my world crashing down because of the ideas I expressed did not exist. My beliefs seemed special and right, and I had constant reaffirmation from family and community that they were.

But now I hold perspectives about spirituality and humanity that I can no longer discuss with ease in front of my family–not without my mother crying and feeling as if she did not know or like the person I had become. This may matter to me more than it might to other people since I have, for over a year now, returned to that home to write my dissertation. I am constantly challenged with the task of creating a space where I can honor my desires, needs, and truths. Like Judith Butler says, if I am a person who exists by doing, when I cannot express/speak/give an account of myself, I cannot fully exist. Family is important, but what gets sacrificed by pretending and silence? It is not only the self, but the chance for deeper, more authentic bonds. Continue reading “Luke 12:51-53: On the Verge of a Paradigm Shift by Elisabeth Schilling”

Thinking About Thanksgiving by Carol P. Christ

Thanksgiving evokes deep memory and raises questions about what we are celebrating, now that we know the stories we were told about the Pilgrims and the Indians are not the whole truth about America’s early history. I thought about all of this as I prepared for Thanksgiving this year and cleaned up for days afterwards.

Although I do not live in America, I have celebrated Thanksgiving with a group of friends in my home in Greece many times during the past twenty years.

For me, Thanksgiving brings up happy memories of family gatherings in a time when my extended family, including Mom and Dad, brothers, great-aunts and great-uncles, aunts and uncles, cousins and second cousins, gathered at Grandma’s to eat turkey with all the trimmings. Grandma Lena Marie Searing Bergman was not only a great cook but also an excellent hostess. Her tables were laden with turkey, stuffing, mashed potatoes, gravy, sweet potatoes, biscuits with butter and homemade jam, corn and green peas, pumpkin and mince pies, and also with crystal, china, and silver, and flowers from her garden.

Uncle Emery, my grandmother’s older brother, told stories about life on the farm in Michigan, where they had a pony and he lost parts of his fingers in a threshing machine. We children played croquet in the garden and ran races all around it while our mothers, aunts, and grandmother laid out the feast and cleaned up afterwards. These were the blessed days before television and televised football games came to dominate holidays in the United States. My memories are laced with the sadness of knowing that those days are in the past. Continue reading “Thinking About Thanksgiving by Carol P. Christ”

What Was Your Childhood Religious Tradition And Do You Still Follow It? by Carol P. Christ

Recently, in an interview with the Women’s Living History Project of Claremont Graduate University, I was asked: What religious tradition did you identify with as a child and how did it impact your childhood? and: Is your tradition the same today that you had when growing up?

I was surprised that the interview questions didn’t ask anything about feminism, experiencing exclusion in patriarchal religions, or belief. My religious and political convictions, which are intertwined, have alienated me from family members. Therefore, I was suspicious of questions that seemed to have been formulated by someone for whom religion and family go together, and for whom believing or not believing (!) did not seem to be an important issue.

After expressing criticism of the questions, I agreed to work with them. My answer to the first question was that I did not have a single religious tradition as a child. I had four. Continue reading “What Was Your Childhood Religious Tradition And Do You Still Follow It? by Carol P. Christ”

Visions of My Grandmother by John Erickson

“I never told my grandmother I was gay. I’ve often wanted to visit her grave, clench my hands together, and pray that she forgive me for betraying the trust she instilled upon me long ago. However, even today, I cannot bring myself to make that trek, up the hill into the countryside where her ashes lay below the ground.”

I haven’t dreamt of my grandmother since her passing one hot summer July evening.

The night, and the days that followed, continue to be a blur. However, as my family members continue to see her in their nightly visions, I, go on unabatedly longing to see and hear the voice of a woman who made me feel the presence of the divine with each passing story.

My sister saw her in a dream when she was buying shoes, my mother has seen her multiple times when she would be undergoing a particularly stressful situation, and I, left alone and oftentimes wondering through an abyss of loneliness and disarray, wake up each morning wondering why, I am left all alone. Continue reading “Visions of My Grandmother by John Erickson”

8 Simple Rules for Being a Queer Godfather by John Erickson

Becoming a Godfather was more than just a reentry into the Catholic traditions I had long given up but rather a journey back in time that would grant me the ability to rewrite the wrongs I felt as a kid growing up in a tradition I not only didn’t understand but also didn’t feel like I belonged in.

I often wondered why I wasn’t asked to be the Godfather of my niece and nephew. It made perfect sense to me that I would be the best person to guide and provide spiritual care for either of them as I was the only member, in both my family and my brother-in-law’s, getting a PhD in Religion. I didn’t think there would be much to it. I would go, hold my nephew, and watch a priest pour water over his head, and then go and enjoy some very sugary cake in my sister’s backyard.

On August 18^th, 2012 my wish came true and I became the Godfather to my sister’s second child, Drew. I had always believed that there was nothing to being a Godfather. That it was a title in name only and a tradition that many individuals bestowed upon members of their family as ritualistic habit rather than a sacred institution of spiritual care and upbringing. Boy, was I wrong. Continue reading “8 Simple Rules for Being a Queer Godfather by John Erickson”

Remembering My Grandmother: Not as a Suffering Servant but as a Devoted and Loving Mother By Michele Stopera Freyhauf

The last week-and-a-half has been probably the most heart wrenching time I remember having in my life. You see, my grandmother passed from this life June 19th and the void in my heart is huge. I have to admit that I am lucky that my grandmother was a huge part of my life and the last family funeral I attended was in 1983. Certainly one expects grandparents to pass away, even when they live a healthy long life. Nothing prepares you for the time that you must say good-bye. You yearn for one more conversation, one more hug, one more kiss – the thoughts churn and churn robbing you of sleep or peace. At some point, a level of acceptance or at least the ability to cope will occur – when is a mystery, but for now I just try to be strong – for my mom, my sister, and my children.

Driving home from vacation, I received the news from my sister, Lisa:

Lisa: Nanny has lymphoma, which they found in her stomach and invaded her spine, paralyzing her from the hips down. It is fast moving.

Me: How long?

Lisa: 2-4 weeks. Hospice was called and is making her comfortable.

The news was jolting, but I did not realize that the initial expectation 3 days earlier was 6-8 weeks. She had tests for a bleeding ulcer, so this diagnosis was jolting. Over the last year, we dealt with dementia and health issues. These either were false alarms or cured thanks to the love of her family, care from the people at the nursing home, and her nurse practitioner and physician. I wished that this was also a false alarm – but it was not, this time it was real and the end was eminent.

Seeing my mother at Father’s Day celebration, the news was even more grim – Nanny is no longer alert, can no longer open her eyes – they are making her comfortable. The last time her eyes opened was after her priest gave her last rites. He turned to leave, she opened her eyes, said “Hi Father,” and went back to sleep. This was the last time her eyes would open. My mother tells me that she is not expected to live through the week.

I took my children over to say good-bye. I know I should be grateful that my girls have a close relationship with their great-grandmother, one that spanned 19 years. I know I should be grateful that I had her in every facet of my life. It is no secret that family was important to my grandmother, and she adored all of her children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren. This is a trait handed to my mother, my sister, and me. Something I strive to instill in my children.

The good-byes were difficult as she was essentially unconscious and her breathing was noisy.

My sister called, how is she?

Me: Breathing is labored and gaps between breaths are getting longer.

Lisa: Will she be o.k. tomorrow?

Me: I have no idea. You may want to visit tonight just in case.

My sister and her husband appeared about 10 minutes later. Wanting to give her time, I left with my family. Going home was hard. I was afraid she may not make it through the night. I hoped with all my heart that this was not the end.

The next morning I returned to work. She made it through the night. I was in my office for a few hours before when I received a call from my dad.

Dad: I am just calling to tell you Nanny is declining pretty fast. They are saying minutes to hours – we are all here. No need for you to come, I just wanted to let you know.

Me: I am on my way.

Depending on traffic, I had a 40 – 60 minute drive. I had to be with the woman that helped care for me and loved me. The person that I took trips with, would talk hours on the phone with, cook with. My grandmother was at every event, every family function, every holiday, and every birthday. She was a huge part of my life and very important to me. I needed to get there before she took her last breath – thankfully, I did.

The goodbyes continued. Staff and residents alike came down to say goodbye. She was loved my so many. Tears flowed for this petite woman with beautiful blue eyes, a contagious smile, and a heart of gold. Her three children, my father, my sister, a few friends, and I kept vigil by her bedside. I held her hand, sponged her neck and forehead to help with the fever, and kissed her forehead. This went on all day and all night.

It was now midnight. Everyone left the room to have a snack. It was a long day and we forgot to eat dinner. The staff was nice enough to provide us with muffins, water, pop, and coffee but this was no longer enough. Every time someone would leave to use the restroom, you did not know if she would still be there when you came back. Even running to a fast-food restaurant to grab a few sandwiches was done with angst and concern. Continue reading “Remembering My Grandmother: Not as a Suffering Servant but as a Devoted and Loving Mother By Michele Stopera Freyhauf”

A Family Conceived, Lost, and Resurrected by Gina Messina-Dysert

As I had written about in a previous post, my husband and I had a very long struggle with infertility. After nine years, multiple failed rounds of infertility treatments, and much heartache, we decided to look at alternative options to grow our family. Once we had made the decision to adopt, I felt new hope. There was a light at the end of the tunnel and I knew a child would be coming home to us before long. I had a dream that Mary, the mother of Jesus, had come to me and told me that I would be a mother. She promised that a child was waiting that needed our love and would arrive soon. I began praying to a shrine of Mary at a local parish near my home; she became my source of strength and solace.

Not long after we had been approved for the adoption waiting list, we took a family trip to Italy to visit my father’s hometown and meet our relatives. It was quite an adventure and during our excursion I stopped in every church we passed to say a prayer to Mary. Half way through the trip we received a call that a child had been matched with us. To say we were overjoyed would be a complete understatement. We tried to catch an earlier flight home but were unable. A once in a lifetime trip to Italy was suddenly of no interest to us as we sat around our hotel room looking at baby items, reading parenting info, and preparing for the homecoming of our first child. Continue reading “A Family Conceived, Lost, and Resurrected by Gina Messina-Dysert”

Peace Begins at Home by Gina Messina-Dysert

I began my career in the field of social services as a woman’s advocate for rape and domestic violence survivors. The motto for an organization I was employed with early on was “peace begins at home,” a significant point that must be acknowledged. While much attention around women’s involvement in peacebuilding efforts have been focused at the macro level, there has been little consideration of women’s efforts towards peace at the micro level. Certainly, women’s involvement in formal peacebuilding processes at the larger public level is crucial. This being said, we must not undermine the leadership roles that women play in their homes, their families, and their religious and immediate communities, and how those roles can have an incredible impact on greater society.

I would like to start off by defining “peace.” It is a word that we all use quite frequently and often with different meanings. Some would claim that peace equates the cessation of conflict. However, within our world conflict is inevitable; daily life is riddled with internal, interpersonal, intergroup, and international conflict. Thus, when defining peace, we must understand it as being able to deal creatively with inevitable conflict. According to Jean Zaru, “It is the process of working to resolve conflicts in such a way that both sides win, with increased harmony as the outcome of the conflict and its resolution. Peace is based on respect, cooperation, and well being. Peace is the presence of social justice” (Occupied with Non-Violence, p. 81-2).

Zaru’s comments here are important in that she acknowledges a clear relationship between peace and justice. In the words of Pope Paul VI, “if you want peace, work for justice.” Because peace is not only the absence of war, but also the absence of poverty and disease, the access to clean water, the freedom from slavery; peace is the affirmation of the full humanity of every person. Peace is salaam, peace is shalom, peace is the well being of all. Thus, there are many elements that come together in the word peace. It is not simply government initiatives, it is not a patchwork solution to the conflicts of the world, nor is it submission or silent acceptance, rather we must understand peace as justice. Continue reading “Peace Begins at Home by Gina Messina-Dysert”

Where do Cats Go?: Reflections on Death Post Patriarchal Christianity by Sara Frykenberg

The reason I am speaking about death today is two-fold. First, I have been somewhat preoccupied with the concept of death since entering a new decade of my life. I no longer believe in the evangelical vision of heaven I learned about in my youth; but as an uncomfortable “un”-Christian, I also have no satisfactory vision to replace it. Or rather, there are many visions I find appealing, but none that I “believe in,” as I had believed in heaven. My family is getting older, my parents have been sick in the last few years, and I often feel that I have more to lose now than I used to.

My second reason for considering death today is that last Wednesday, Mimi, our family cat of 24 years—yes, 24—passed away. After spending all nine of her lives living, Mimi could no longer eat and was suffering. My mother had her put down after we all said goodbye; we held a funeral for her and buried her among the lilies in our yard, her home.

My sisters and myself were very, very saddened by Mimi’s passing; but my mother took it hardest of all. Mimi had been her companion, her friend, her lap warmer, her snuggle buddy, her alarm clock and, we often joked, her favorite child for over two decades. I wanted to comfort my mother; but my protest that it didn’t matter what the (her) Church said, Mimi was with the God/dess, was maybe, not very helpful. It perhaps, only reminded her that in her view, I too am not going to heaven.

I remember sitting in church, as a child being told that animals did not have souls and that there was no “kitty heaven.” That was perhaps, one of the first times in my life that I thought, “that’s just ridiculous,” in a church. Not just ridiculous, but mean and cruel even. “What,” I thought, “is the point in saying such a thing?” Continue reading “Where do Cats Go?: Reflections on Death Post Patriarchal Christianity by Sara Frykenberg”

Home for the Holidays By Carol P. Christ

Yesterday I was watching an episode of Grey’s Anatomy in which George’s father said to him, “you’re not like us, you’re a surgeon.” “And,” George’s father added, “you don’t like to do the things we like to do.” It is not easy not being like your family and not liking the things they like. When my mother was alive, she was the glue that held us together. Since then, my sheer presence in the lives of my father and my brothers and their families is disruptive. No matter that I try not to make waves, I make them all the same. I do keep my mouth shut about politics and religion and feminism. Even so, the last time I was home for the holidays my father asked me to stay in a hotel because having me in the house made him nervous and uncomfortable. To be fair, how would you feel if your daughter was 6 feet tall and you weren’t, she had a PhD and you didn’t, and even if she didn’t open her mouth at all, you knew that she didn’t agree with your political views or your everyday assumption that men make the final decisions on all important matters? Or if you were my brother who does not have a college education and who feels that women and minorities and gays have taken something from him? Or if you were my Mormon brother who is trying to keep his three daughters on the straight and narrow and not on the path chosen by their aunt? On the last Christmas day I spent at my brother’s house, I did not mention any of the obvious things, but it was hard to hide being astonished by the number of presents and the amount of money spent on them, and I simply could not force myself to watch football. Continue reading “Home for the Holidays By Carol P. Christ”