Tag: women

Giving Tuesday

Today is termed “Giving Tuesday” and is promoted to remind people to include charitable giving in their December plans.

I chose to support three charities today.

First, I contributed to the NETWORK Education Fund, which is the tax-deductible affiliate of NETWORK, the Catholic social justice lobby, of which I am also a long-time supporter. They help to educate people on issues such as immigration reform, voter registration, economic justice, etc.

Second, I supported Mary’s Pence, which funds projects which empower women, in the US and the rest of the Western Hemisphere. Some are co-operative economic endeavors, while others are geared toward health, education, or bringing about social change. They also fund study grants for women.

My final choice was the Tanzanian Children’s Fund, which operates a school and orphanage in Tanzania, as well as microfinance projects and medical services. Our cousin Sara has a long history of volunteering with them in Africa and we give to them every December in honor of her and the family.

Of course, we don’t confine our charitable giving to one day, but I am glad that there is a special day to remind people to give to others if they are able. There is no shortage of causes that are worthy of support.

Gloria Steinem, Hillary Clinton, and I

A friend posted a link to this article:  http://www.theguardian.com/us-news/2015/oct/19/gloria-steinem-hillary-clinton-white-house?CMP=share_btn_fb on Facebook a few days ago. Gloria Steinem writes about her reactions to Hillary Clinton as she ran for New York Senator and for the Democratic nomination for president and about some other women’s reactions which were not as positive as hers. Her article inspired me to add my own viewpoint.

When Bill Clinton was running for the Democratic nomination for the first time, he was in trouble for reports of him having affairs.  Bill and Hillary appeared for a joint interview on 60 Minutes. I remember thinking that the wrong person was running for president. While Bill is undoubtedly the more charismatic, Hillary struck me as being the more intelligent of the two. Being first lady of Arkansas and then of the United States didn’t really give her the opportunities to reach her full capacity in service and in leadership.

I appreciated that when she ran for Senate in New York she did a lot of listening and I was proud to be able to vote for her. She did a good job as Senator and gained valuable experience. When she ran for the presidential nomination in 2008, I felt she was the stronger candidate than Barack Obama because she had more experience, as Steinem notes in her piece. Because I am an independent and New York has a closed primary system, I wasn’t allowed to vote, though.

The experience Hillary gained as Secretary of State in the Obama administration makes her even more experienced as a candidate now. I do have a problem, though. Because she had to spend so much of her time in the public eye supporting someone else’s vision and having to play the game that women often have to play to prove that they are “tough” enough to participate in predominantly male environments, it is hard to pin down what policies she believes in herself, as opposed to positions she had to take on for other reasons.

While I am excited by the prospect of a woman president and believe that Hillary will gain the Democratic nomination and the presidency, at the moment I am supporting fellow independent Senator Bernie Sanders of Vermont. Bernie’s progressive views most closely match my own and he has been amazingly consistent in his vision over the decades. I believe his candidacy has been good for Hillary, helping her to articulate her own progressive views that had gotten buried in the years of having to follow the lead of her husband, her party leadership, and President Obama as a member of his Cabinet.

I do deplore the amount of snark – and worse – that women candidates have to endure. As Steinem points out, some of the disapproval comes from other women, where it is often a reflection of dissatisfaction with a woman’s own life rather than an actual disagreement with the candidate. Further, Clinton has to contend with actual hatred directed at her by some partisans. No Congressional committee would have questioned Sec. Colin Powell for eleven hours as the House Benghazi committee did this past week with Clinton. I agree with Steinem that, had I faced the choice to run for Senate that Hillary did, I would have said no. Running for president – twice – is even more punishing.

It feels odd, as a feminist, not to be on Hillary’s bandwagon yet. I am again faced with the situation that I don’t have a vote until the general election, when I fully expect that I will be casting my vote for Hillary Clinton and her running mate. Meanwhile, I will back the candidate whose positions I share most closely, Bernie Sanders.

SoCS: “Between the Dark and the Daylight”

One of my volunteer gigs is facilitating for a spirituality study group at my church. We meet on Wednesday mornings to read and discuss a book on a spiritual topic. After a summer break, we met for the first time this part week to begin reading Between the Dark and the Daylight by Joan Chittister.

The subtitle of the the book is Embracing the Contradictions of Life.  We all feel that we need help with this!

Sister Joan begins by explaining that life is full of paradoxes and then illustrates the point through a series of relatively short chapters, with titles like “The Poverty of Plenty” and “The Sanity of Irrationality” and “The Certitude of Doubt”. Not that I have read the whole book yet. I like to keep a bit ahead of the group so that I am prepared to lead discussion, but I don’t like to be so far ahead that I am throwing in concepts from later chapters before we get to them.

It is a bit odd that I am facilitating the group because I am its junior member. OK – in most contexts I am not considered a “junior” but, at 54, I am the youngest. Many of the women – and we are all women, even though, theoretically, a man could choose to attend – have children in my age cohort.

I wound up doing it because the IHM sister who began the group decades ago needed to move on to some other duties and asked me to take it on. Do you know how difficult it is to say no to a sister when she asks you to do something for the parish? So I said yes, even though I didn’t feel qualified. Part of what makes it work is that I facilitate discussion rather than try to teach. The wisdom of the authors of the books we read plus the wisdom of the group carries us through.

It’s enlightening.
*****
This post is part of Linda’s Stream of Consciousness Saturdays. The prompt this week was “light.” Join us! Find out how here:  http://lindaghill.com/2015/09/04/the-friday-reminder-and-prompt-for-socs-sept-515/

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the start of Sappho’s Circle

Today was the first meeting of Sappho’s Circle, a women’s poetry workshop group convened by Heather Dorn, whom I first met through the Binghamton Poetry Project of which she is currently director.

We will study women poets, write from prompts, have sessions where we workshop poems by group members to help them revise, and have publication parties where we choose publications to which to submit our poems and send them off – before we get distracted, chicken out, etc.

I am so excited to have another group, along with my regular workshop group and the Binghamton Poetry Project,  to help me become a stronger poet.  I’m also looking forward to being in another circle of women. I have been privileged to belong to other women’s circles over the decades and always find great support, generosity, and understanding within them.

My heartfelt thanks to Heather who has been such a great help to me as a poet. I’m so looking forward to being a part of Sappho’s Circle through the coming year!

A women-centric Sunday morning

Being a long-time feminist, I tend to notice when things are more male-centered or female-centered, and, being Catholic, Sunday mornings tend to be more male-centered. Today has been a lovely, woman-centered surprise.

It began early this morning when I read a blog post from Bishop Bridget Mary Meehan containing the homily from the latest ordination in the Association of Roman Catholic Women Priests in Albany NY. It was preached jointly by her and the ordinands and referenced several women mystics from the Catholic tradition.

The gospel reading at Mass this morning was the healing of the woman with a hemorrhage and the raising of the daughter of Jairus.  As so often happens, the names of these two are lost to history, but I find their stories and their juxtaposition in Mark’s gospel compelling.  The mature woman, who has been bleeding for twelve years and has been bankrupted by paying doctors who have not helped her, is healed, unbeknownst to Jesus, when she touches his cloak. When Jesus asks who in the crowd touched him, she comes forward and tells him the story. It was her faith that healed her and allowed her to re-enter society. Given that Jewish women were considered ritually impure when they were bleeding, she would have spent those twelve years unable to touch people and be part of normal life. Her healing gave her her life back.

When this happened, Jesus was on his way to the house of Jairus to heal his daughter who was very ill. Before they arrive, word comes that the girl has died. Jesus continues, though, and raises the girl from her deathbed and restores her to the arms of her loving parents. The Scripture tells us that the girl is twelve years old, an age on the cusp of womanhood. I love the symmetry of the story: two females restored to life, one young, one older, both related to the number twelve, which is so often used in the Bible to denote completeness.

In church this morning, we also got to hear an appeal from a Benedictine sister from Tanzania on behalf of her order’s orphanage there. She is in the US attending college, in Buffalo in my home state of New York, and hoping to go on for her master’s in special education so that she can return to Tanzania to assist in the education of the children in the orphanage. Interestingly, we also have a connection to the Rift Valley Children’s Village, another orphanage in Tanzania, through cousin Sara, who has volunteered there extensively. It was a privilege to be able to offer prayers and financial support this morning. It was also most welcome to hear a woman’s voice from the ambo.

Now, my daughter and I are relaxing together before lunch. I wonder what other woman-centered events the day will bring?

Interspirituality conference

I’ve spent the last two days immersed in this interspirituality conference.  Kurt Johnson was our main speaker with many members of our local community participating as panelists/presenters.  It is impossible for me to condense two intensive days into a reasonable summary, so I will instead give a series of impressions, connections, and experiences.

I learned a lot from an academic/historical perspective about interspirituality. While it uses a different vocabulary, the concepts were familiar to me from studying spiritual teachers such as Joan Chittister and Richard Rohr who transcend the borders between spiritual traditions and emphasize the universal, indwelling presence of the Divine.

One of the unsettling aspects for me that was articulated by some of the women in attendance was that even at the advanced levels of spirituality and consciousness that were being discussed, the lens was still predominantly and historically male.  When there was discussion of the power of small groups and the advantages of people relating as non-hierarchal circles, I and at least several of the other women in the room were thinking, “Well, of course. This is how we have related, created, innovated, passed on wisdom, supported one another, moved forward together for centuries.”  It was a bit disconcerting to realize that the primacy of love, connection, relation, co-creativity, and the holiness of all creation that are felt so deeply in the hearts, minds, and wombs of women are only now again being re-discovered and brought out into the wider academic world and dialogue on how the world is organized.

That I was at the conference at all was due to connections through women and their circles.  My friend Yvonne Lucia, whose amazing artwork you can see here, was a panelist and passed on invitations to me and other members of sacred circles in which we have participated. I, in turn, was blessed to be able to invite and meet in person Jamie of Sophia’s Children, with whom I had recently connected in the blogosphere.  I so appreciated the enriching conversations that we had during breaks and lunches and a lovely walk along the river that Jamie and I shared after the conference ended a bit earlier than anticipated this afternoon.

The conference followed what was termed as a “loosey-goosey” model, which was fine as it led into unexpected areas and revelations. I was, however, disappointed that we did not do much discussion of ecospirituality, which is becoming increasingly important to me at this point in time.  In all my years of writing commentary on fracking, renewable energy, climate change, and environmental topics, I had to make arguments based on science and economics. Because the anti-fracking movement was being characterized as coming only from a place of emotion and NIMBY-ism, I was careful to work from a fact- basis and to not respond to personal attack. What only those close to me knew was that the energy behind all those comments came from my grounding in the values of Catholic social justice doctrine, which includes care of all creation and an extra measure of protection and care for the most vulnerable, whether an endangered ecosystem or a community left vulnerable to pollution, sea level rise, inadequate food and shelter, or other threat. Now, with the impending release of Pope Francis’s encyclical on the environment and my involvement in the newly reconstituted Catholic Peace Community of the Southern Tier, I feel that I can integrate my environmental advocacy with my spiritual values in a more public way, hoping to spread the message in our communities about steps we can take to help our damaged climate before the climate talks convene in Paris in December.

One of the gifts of the conference for me was increased clarity of my own spiritual journey as I continue through my 50s. While I am still grounded in the “big C” Catholic church, although as a progressive feminist within it, what I learned there – the elements of social justice, the sacramentality of life and relationship, the indwelling of God in each person and all of creation, God as Love, Peace, Ground of Being – makes me also and increasingly a “small c” catholic, which mean universal. That is how I am thinking about interspirituality at this point, that universal connection in which all people of good will share, whether they arrive there via a faith/spiritual tradition or through humanism, science, or some other path.

One of the other blessings was the presence and sharing of some from the Millennial age cohort. While some think of their tendency to connect with one another electronically to be a detriment, I think it is one of their strengths. While those of us in older generations were brought up largely in localized boxes, the Millennials have grown up being connected instantly to a wide circle of people. From my two 20-something daughters and their friends, I have learned so much about celebrating diversity. It is a great source of hope and comfort to me that they already know and live some of these things that have taken me much longer to discover. To know that we have their generation’s commitment, broad sense of community, energy, and love already engaged is a great source of hope and comfort to me.

I am an introvert and gatherings of people are daunting to me. In the two days of the conference, I didn’t ever rise to ask a question or speak. I also tend to need a lot of processing time – and then go on to write overly long blog posts! But I will close with one more observation that I am mulling.  There were a handful of people at the conference that I knew personally, mostly people that I met through Yvonne. There were others who recognized me as a poet, a part of my life that has been public for such a short time that it still seems like a surprise when someone identifies me that way. There were also people who knew me by sight from my fracktivist activities or by name because of my public commentary. And most of the people in the room who do not know me at all.

There was, however, a special personal connection that I had within the church in which we met.  When I was in my twenties, it was my privilege to study organ with Searle Wright. First Congregational was his home church and my lessons often took place there. I took a moment after lunch today to go visit the Aeolian Skinner organ, to sit on the bench for a moment, to remember the wonders of Searle playing it, and to recall the time when I was still able to play myself.

I managed not to cry, although I don’t know if I will tomorrow morning when I attend the Sunday service which will be the official closing of the conference.

Update:  I’m happy to share the link to Jamie’s initial blog post on the conference:  http://sophias-children.com/2015/04/28/interspiritual-its-here-its-happening-its-on-its-way/.  It gives you a much better sense of what interspirituality means and you can follow her blog for more of her insights as they come our way.

women waiting

In my Roman Catholic faith tradition, today is Holy Saturday, the day between Good Friday, which commemorates the crucifixion and death of Jesus, and Easter, the celebration of Christ’s resurrection. It is a between time – neither part of Lent nor part of the Easter season – a time of waiting.

This Lent, I have read a number of pieces about how it was the women disciples that accompanied Jesus on the way of the cross while nearly all the male disciples faded away. The women also became the first witnesses to the resurrection because they were the ones going to the tomb to anoint Jesus’s body in accordance with Jewish burial custom.

The reason that the women could not do this ministry immediately is that they needed to observe the sabbath, the day of rest from work that is such an important part of the Jewish faith tradition. That particular sabbath was an even more solemn one because it was during the eight days of the Passover celebration. So from sundown on Friday until sundown on Saturday, the women rested and mourned and waited to prepare Jesus’s body with perfumed oils and burial cloths.

The women (or Mary Magdalene alone – the gospel accounts differ) must have made their preparations during the night because they were at the tomb near dawn. Finding the tomb empty, they became the first witnesses to the resurrection. In John’s gospel, Christ appears to Mary Magdalene and directly commissions her to “go and tell” which is the essential apostolic mission.

Today, I am reflecting about Jesus who was also resting on that sabbath – although resting in death at that point. Yesterday, at Good Friday services, the deacon reminded us that Lamb of God was one of the oldest titles for Jesus. The coinciding of his death with Passover, when the lamb is slain in commemoration of the protection of the firstborn of the Israelites by marking their doorposts with lamb’s blood, is a powerful reminder of his Jewish identity and faithfulness to the covenant and his mission.

I don’t think that Jesus meant to found a new church. In his earthly ministry, he reached out and healed and spoke and ate with those who were on the margins of society, including Samaritans and others who were not Jews. It is a human tragedy that religion has been used to separate people, to perceive others as enemies, to perpetrate violence and oppression. I believe that God is a spirit of love, revealed in various ways to different cultures throughout time. Like Pope Francis, I appreciate all people of good will, whether they belong to a faith tradition, spiritual or philosophical practice, or not. I recount religious and spiritual topics here from time to time because this is part of who I am; I do not intend to imply that my belief should be yours or is superior to yours or anything else of the kind.

But back to today…

I’m waiting. Tonight, after sundown, we will begin the Easter vigil by lighting a new fire and blessing the Paschal candle which will be used throughout the year, including for baptisms and funerals. Later in the mass, we will use the candle to bless baptismal waters and new members of the church will receive the sacraments of initiation. We will celebrate Eucharist together, sing songs with alleluias, and rejoice!

The waiting makes it that much more special when it arrives.

Where Pope Francis stands when it comes to women | National Catholic Reporter

Where Pope Francis stands when it comes to women | National Catholic Reporter.

I commend Father Tom Reese for writing this column. He makes a lot of good points, but I felt compelled to make the following comment:  “I don’t think that women are upset with Francis calling for a theology of women because they prefer to think of a theology of person. Rather, what upsets me and other women that I know is that there a decades of profound writings in feminist theology that Francis does not seem to even know exists. While we all welcome further work on this theology, we must acknowledge that a lot has already been accomplished, whether or not the clergy and other men of the church have been reading and studying it. Another instance of the men of the church not listening to the women’s viewpoint?”

Equal In Faith

Posting this video in honor of International Women’s Day. It advocates for the full inclusion of women in religious and spiritual leadership, as well as for equality in all areas of society. I believe that God made us #EqualInFaith.

SoCS: The best years of my life

When I was in college, senior week/commencement happened at the same time as all the reunions. My house always hosted the 60th reunion, with alumnae staying in the rooms vacated by the undergrads. A few undergrads stayed to help out with the activities or because they were members of Glee Club and needed to stay to sing. Of course, all the seniors were there enjoying the campus for the last few days before graduating. I was always really taken by the vitality and zest for living of the alumnae there for their 60th – in their early 80s, they were excitedly meeting up to chat, climbing the stairs without seeming exertion, heading out to activities, and marching in the Ivy Day parade without any problems. My friends and I marvelled at their long-standing friendships, intelligence, wit, and wisdom and hoped that, in 60 years when it was our turn to be back there, we would be as gracious and engaged with life as they were.

The one comment that always gave me pause, though, was many of them saying that years at Smith are the best years of life.

We students had just all come through another hectic semester, filled with learning and friends and growth, but we were also often anxious, sleep-deprived, and overwhelmingly busy. I would think – please, no, tell me that this is not as good as life gets.

My mother-in-law would cite the years she was at home with her young sons as the best. I loved my own young daughters and was constantly amazed at their lives unfolding before me as I tried my best to care for them and help them learn about themselves and the world. But those years were also filled with lack of sleep, innumerable trips to the doctors’ office, budgetary wizardry, and mistakes – which, even though I tried to rectify them as quickly as I made them, still carry tiny twinges of regret. So, was that supposed to be the best?

Others nominate childhood or high school – no one seems to pick middle school – as the best years.  They somehow remember those times as carefree, but they are often times when young people are being pressured to conform to being members of groups that may not suit them well at all and are confronted with adult-size problems which their child or teen selves are not equipped to handle – and somehow adults expect them to make decisions like adults, which they decidedly are not.

I agree with my (very wise) mother. There is no “best age.”  Phases in life are certainly unique and have their own charms but they also have their own problems. I would not trade my years at Smith for anything. College was a unique experience. I learned so much about so many different topics but most of all I learned about myself. And I learned as much from my peers with whom I lived as I did from my professors. Being in a women’s college taught me so much respect and admiration for women’s capabilities and leadership. I don’t think I would be the same person were it not for those for years.

But that doesn’t make them “the best.”  That time was often difficult and sometimes lonely.  I missed my family and my boyfriend (now my spouse of 30+ years).  The intellectual work was stimulating, but also exhausting as I always tried to do my very best. Even at Smith, there were instances of lack of respect for women’s autonomy, especially in having to deal with church issues, which, as a Catholic organist, I frequently did.

The same mix of positives and negatives applies to other times of my life. None of them ever could or should be seen as “the best.”

What I feel called to do is to give my best and try my best at all times of life. There will always be some good even in the midst of bad times and some struggle even in good times.

But never any one time as “the best years of my life.”

This post is part of Linda’s Stream of Consciousness Saturdays. This week’s prompt was: young, old, or anything to do with age. Please join us! Details are at the link below.

http://lindaghill.wordpress.com/2014/08/29/the-friday-reminder-and-prompt-for-socs-august-3014/

 

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Badge by Doobster @Mindful Digressions