Why Not ‘Feminine Divine’? by Judith Laura
Originally published on the Feminism and Religion project
It twists my gut like an intestinal bug when people use the term “feminine divine” or “divine feminine” when what is... more
It twists my gut like an intestinal bug when people use the term “feminine divine” or “divine feminine” when what is meant is female deity. I keep thinking that like many gut bugs, it might just go away on its own—but no such luck.
Here’s how I see the history, the herstory, of this linguistic corruption. From what I remember, “divine feminine” (or “feminine divine” or “sacred feminine”) came into usage sometime in the 1980s by people, some of them authors, who wanted to refer to a female deity (or female deities, or female aspects of the divine) but didn’t want to use the word Goddess or wanted to talk about the subject in a non-religious, even not specifically spiritual, context.
I am Beginning to Understand by Carol P. Christ
Originally published on the Feminism and Religion project
Elizabeth Kelly Inglis died in 1927 at age 62 from complications of a stroke. Secondary causes were malnutrition and... more
Elizabeth Kelly Inglis died in 1927 at age 62 from complications of a stroke. Secondary causes were malnutrition and exhaustion.
When I was a child, my father, though he was very close to his own parents and sister, spoke very little about his ancestors. I knew that both of his parents lost their fathers when they were small children. I was told that the Christs were German and the Inglises were Scottish and Irish. My grandmother Mary Inglis Christ was as Irish as the day is long. She prayed to the blessed Virgin and took me to church with her in the early mornings where she lit candles and whispered the rosary while fingering faceted lavender beads. She voted for Kennedy because he was Irish and Catholic—to the horror of my father and his father who had no use for the Democrats. My grandmother sometimes cried when she showed us photographs of her family, especially when she pointed to her sister Veronica, called Very. I sensed that my grandmother felt sad to have left her family in New York when she moved with her husband and children to California during the depression, but I was too young to understand fully. As far as I know, I never met any of the relatives from her side of the family, even when I moved to “back east.”
Does Humor Have a Place in Religion? by Barbara Ardinger
Originally published on the Feminism and Religion Project.
Is there anything funny about the divine? Any joke-telling gods? From the days of Abraham until today, the gods and... more
Is there anything funny about the divine? Any joke-telling gods? From the days of Abraham until today, the gods and their preachers are a very earnest lot intent on saving us from our sins and building congregations.
Like it or not, we neopagans are still children of the society we’re endeavoring to change. Some of us seem to want to switch patriarchy to matriarchy, but that’s just swapping Big Daddy for Big Momma. It’s still a hierarchical arrangement with the deity at the top of the mountain. Immediately below the “arch” are angels, men, eagles, lions, and other superior beasts. At the bottom of the mountain are women, mud, and matter. (In case you don’t recognize it, this is the 18th-century Great Chain of Being.)
Any humor in spiritual and religious writing? The Hebrew Bible (which Christians refer to as the Old Testament) is a collection of laws, canonically approved versions of history, prophetical preachings, and poetry. The Christian Bible (aka New Testament) give us different approved versions of history, plus further preaching, plus myth and mysticism. The writings of the medieval Fathers of the Church are famously grim and misogynistic. The Qur’an offers ethical guidance and moral preaching. In the Far East, the Tao is also profound, as are the preachings of the Buddha. The writings of Confucius present instructions for maintaining the correct social order (another version of that Great Chain). The great stories of Hinduism are filled with wonder, adventures, and philosophy. But they’re not very funny.
These are the standard texts of the standard-brand religions, and though I’ve greatly oversimplified them—no offense intended to anyone—I think it’s safe to say that while we can have conversations filled with humor, gentle or ironic, with followers of these religions, we are unlikely to discern anything funny in the holy books. From the beginning, spiritual writing has been unrelentingly and highly serious.
One of the blessings of the Goddess religion—spiritual feminism or feminist spiritualism—is playfulness. I know many neopagans who are extraordinarily creative. I’ve been to some truly inventive rituals. I have read hilarious jokes and postings in the social media.
Goddess Meditation: Pattini by Laura Loomis
originally posted on the Feminism and Religion Project
I first became interested in Goddess spirituality because of my love of storytelling. Centuries-old stories... more
I first became interested in Goddess spirituality because of my love of storytelling. Centuries-old stories yield multiple layers of meaning, and can be told many different ways to get at different truths. In this respect, the written word is both a blessing and a curse. It preserves stories that might otherwise be lost; who knows what tales were told about the Venus of Willendorf, or the giant heads on Easter Island? But it also gives rise to the idea that there is a single “right” version of sacred stories. Adam and Eve can be a meditation on choice and responsibility, but the insistence on taking the story literally can turn it into a command to disbelieve science.
I’ve been working on some meditations about the connection between Goddess spirituality and political activism. Last weekend, with people across the country rising up against Proposition 8, I was reminded of a story from Sri Lanki, about the Goddess Pattini.
Tags: tags: Adam and Eve, goddess, Goddess Devi, How a woman became a Goddess, Kovolan, Laura Loomis, meditation, Pattini, Goddess Spirituality, Feminism, Religion
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Residing in a Liminal Space: Finding a scholarly home at the Institute for Thealogy and Deasophy by Patricia ‘Iolana
originally published at the Feminism and Religion Project.
For years I was outside of traditional academia. I can no longer count the times I have heard that my research... more For years I was outside of traditional academia. I can no longer count the times I have heard that my research and my theories were highly radical and would never find a home or a place of acceptance. Early in my career, while still in the States, a number of my colleagues tried to convince me to take a traditional theological stance, and join the world of orthodox faith tradition. What my well-meaning colleagues never considered was that in asking me to alter my way of being, they were asking me to deny myself, my understanding of the Numinous, and negating that there were other people in the world who think and feel as I do. I would rather cut off my nose to spite my face. Needless to say, I continued on, even though it often meant blazing my own trail off the safe and ‘beaten path.’ I trusted that I was on the right path and that the Divine would lead my way. In other words, I had faith—loads of it, and in the end it paid off.