Priestess of the Goddess – Feminism and Religion

Where were the women? I grew up in the Presbyterian Church, and it wasn’t until I was in my late teens that I ever saw a woman offer a prayer in church. That was when they hired a woman with a Masters of Divinity to be an Associate Pastor in charge of Christian Education, meaning they had hired another woman to be in charge of Sunday School and this one had a higher degree. I, very early on in my Sunday School career used to ask, why can’t women pray in front of the church? Why can’t women give the sermon? Why is the only place girls are allowed to be in the front of the church, the choir loft? Why do we only mention Mary at Christmas? Why was Eve bad and not Adam? Why is it all right for Mary to be an unwed mother but not me? My Sunday School teachers loved me.

The answer for prayer was that you can pray anywhere you are because it’s your conversation with God–but I would ask if that is true, then why aren’t we allowed up front? No one ever had a good answer for that. Continue reading “Where Were the Women? by Kat Robb”

Dusk was falling and mist rising as I drove sadly across the Somerset Levels – a liminal place which once formed the huge marshy lake out of which the Isle of Avalon majestically rose. When I rounded a bend to see a large swan walking straight up the centre of the road in the same direction I was going, my first thought was for its safety. I expected it to take flight or veer off at any moment, but the swan continued on its path, seemingly determined to walk just where it was. The road was narrow and all I could do was respectfully follow until it widened a little, eventually managing to squeeze carefully past before starting to flash my headlamps at oncoming traffic to warn them of the swan’s unlikely presence.

Only later that evening did I remember the last time I saw such a stately walk in front of a moving vehicle – when a formally-dressed funeral director led off the hearse which carried my father from his home and on his last journey in this world. I was thunderstruck. Could the swan be marking this new loss, making me mindful and slowing me down? Continue reading “Death of a Priestess by Geraldine Charles”