The Color Purple – Feminism and Religion

One of my undergraduate professors was (and still is) a haiku enthusiast. When I took his Zen Buddhism course, students were required to write haiku throughout the semester. He encouraged us to focus on the natural world as we struggled to come up with three lines of seventeen syllables, arranged in a five-seven-five pattern. I eventually discovered lots of pleasure creating a haiku poem—crisp, even stark—using words with a precision I found beautiful.

I recently spent some time in North Carolina (from the Outer Banks to Asheville), treating myself to a short vacation after finishing up the Spring semester. In spite of good intentions, I have failed over and over again to keep a detailed journal while traveling. On this trip, I made a vow to write at least one haiku a day. I kept that vow.

Writing haiku daily forced me to be mindful of my surroundings, reflect on my experience, and then use carefully-chosen words to capture the moment. That mindfulness created a glue of sorts, anchoring me in time and place. To my delight, have found this trip lingering in my memory in ways that other trips have not. Continue reading “Haiku Getaway by Esther Nelson”

esther-nelson I do not attend church (or any “house of worship”) regularly anymore. However, one hot, humid, Sunday morning this past August, I wended my way to St. Mark’s Episcopal to hear my friend, Dale, preach. He does “pulpit supply” there (his home church) occasionally. Dale earned an MFA (Master of Fine Arts) in creative writing after finishing his seminary studies. He’s written a one-man play titled “Jesus Phreak” and has performed it in churches and universities nationwide. Dale and I have been friends for a decade or so. He identifies as a Christian, but he’s not like any Christian I’ve ever known.

Church is familiar to me. I was born to Protestant, missionary parents who “served the Lord” in Buenos Aires, Argentina, after graduating from Moody Bible Institute in Chicago, Illinois. My parents had a “special burden” for Jews and worked to bring them to “the knowledge of Jesus Christ.” In other words, they sought to convert Jews to Christianity–not just any Christianity, but the specific Christianity my parents believed in–a literal, “fundamental” understanding of Scripture made popular by Dwight L. Moody (1837-1899) and Cyrus I. Scofield (1843-1921).

I was raised on church and Sunday School, attending three services every Sunday for years. Later on, as a young adult in the United States, I added Wednesday night prayer meeting, heeding a pastor’s adage: “Those who love the church come on Sunday morning, those who love the pastor come on Sunday evening, but those who love the Lord come on Wednesday night.” I did not stop my regular church attendance (non-denominational, Baptist, Presbyterian, Reformed Episcopal, and just plain Episcopal–in that order) until well into my 40s. By then, I could no longer contort myself to fit the mold “church” demanded from me. Continue reading “Whose God is it, Anyway? by Esther Nelson”