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Girl Scouts and Boy Scouts: One Mom's Comparison

10/17/2017

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The CEO of the Arizona Cactus-Pine Girl Scout Council, Tamara Woodbury, shared the following letter this evening with all the troop leaders, family members, and friends of Girl Scouts in our council regarding the move announced by Boy Scouts last week to include girl members in its ranks.
October 17, 2017
 
Dear Girl Scout Friends and Families,

Last week, the Boy Scouts announced they will begin accepting girls into their programs in 2018. The announcement has created a lot of media buzz and a multitude of conflicting opinions on this development. The biggest question, however, is how will this impact Girl Scouts.

Certainly, the Boy Scouts become another activity choice for girls and their families, adding to the Boys and Girls Clubs, 4-H, sports teams and more. 

The Boy Scouts are framing their move around families and the convenience of taking their sons and daughters to the same activity. Some girls may want to join Boy Scouts because they think Boy Scouts do more, especially outdoor adventures. Yet, according to a recent Time magazine article, "There's actually a great deal of overlap among the different badge skills, including camping, car maintenance, first aid, fitness, budgeting and even robotics." Both organizations offer strong STEM programs and each offer a high award - the Gold Award for girls and the Eagle Scout rank for boys. Some girls are drawn to the Eagle Scout rank because it's better known and seemingly more prestigious. While it may be better known, the Gold Award is actually more challenging to earn since it requires making a measurable, sustainable impact.

Yes, Girl Scouting is different. Very different. Our program is all about girls, informed by research on how best to empower girls to lead, thrive and gain skills, beginning in kindergarten. We give girls the safe space of an all-girl environment, where they are free from the gender stereotypes entrenched in our society. Girls gain confidence and build grit and leadership qualities through experiences that are girl-led and designed to encourage learning-by-doing and cooperative learning. 

Girls face unique challenges and they need support from the very beginning to build the resilience and confidence to overcome peer and media pressure. The Girl Scout program is designed and proven to change these sad statistics for girls.


  • Beginning around 6 years old, girls start thinking that boys are smarter than they are.
  • In elementary school, girls are as excited about math and science as boys, but lose interest by middle school.
  • One out of three girls say they are afraid to lead because of what others might think of them. 

A report published this past summer by the Girl Scout Research Institute, The Girl Scout Impact Study, shows that participating in Girl Scouts helps girls develop key leadership skills they need to be successful in life. Compared to their peers, Girl Scouts are more likely than non-Girl Scouts to be leaders because they:

  • Have confidence in themselves and their abilities (80 % vs. 68 %)
  • Act ethically and responsibly, with concern for others 
    (75 % vs. 59 %)
  • Seek challenges and learn from setbacks (62 % vs. 42 %)
  • Develop and maintain healthy relationships (60 % vs. 43 %)
  • Exhibit community problem solving skills (57 % vs. 28 %)
  • Take an active role in decision making (80 % vs. 51 %) 

In short, Girl Scouting works. As CEO of this council for more than 20 years, I have seen the impact our program makes in the lives of girls. 

I continue to strongly believe that Girl Scouts is THE best leadership program for girls. We know the unique needs of girls and the work required to overcome the gender bias and gender gaps that exist in every facet of business and society.

Please share your Girl Scout stories and how you've seen Girl Scouts build girls into confident leaders. Thank you for all you do, each and every day, to help make the world a better place.
 
With love,

Tamara Woodbury
​
Some folks in Girl Scouts may feel threatened by this move. I, as a troop leader, find it curious and interesting, rather than threatening. As a troop leader, I have a special view into just how much Girl Scouts offers girls. I am beyond thrilled that I get to journey with my girls through this leadership program. I am interested to see what Boy Scouts will offer girls; what they will offer very much remains to be seen.

What I know as a troop leader is that my daughters have more opportunities than they could possibly take advantage of in a given year to earn badges and gain confidence in their skills and in themselves. Girl Scouts offers girls every opportunity I've ever heard of Boy Scouts offering boys--and then some.

On a personal note: I have lived the consequences of a male-dominated society my entire life. I was told as a girl and as a woman that I could never be a priest because Jesus, the male man-God, wouldn't have wanted it. I've been told countless times in countless ways to defer to the authority of males--in church, in the academy, in my career path, in virtually every aspect of my life. I've been taught to be silent in the face of male harrassment, abuse, and assault, lest I bring shame or humiliation unto myself. I've been boxed in to "feminine" stereotypes and roles again and again and again. But in Girl Scouts, girls aren't told what they can and can't be. We don't tell them, explicitly or implicitly, that their voices matter less than those of their male counterparts. We lift girls up to be whoever and whatever they want to be. Every time I lead a Scout meeting, every time I go to a Troop Leader meeting, I catch myself looking around in awe at the talent and interest and curiosity and leadership in the girls and women I see, uninterrupted by the casual sense of superiority/privilege that boys and men so often bring.

I think it's great that Boy Scouts are going to accept girls--because maybe those boys will figure out that girls can do anything they can do (and just as well, if not better).

As for Girl Scouts: if the Boy Scouts come up with a great idea, girls will examine it and make it even better for themselves, without asking for some boy or man's permission. Because we we are G.I.R.L. Scouts: Go-getters, Innovators, Risk-takers, Leaders.
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Hand to Hand, Mother to Daughter: Part 1 (Guest Post)

10/7/2017

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Keeley Bruner

Keeley Bruner is the mother of two daughters and a devoted, progressive member of the Disciples of Christ Church. In this three-part series, she writes of the challenge of handing on her faith in ways that mirror the best of her own religious upbringing while reflecting the ways in which her faith has matured and widened in adulthood.

Growing up in my home, faith was always a part of my life. It was woven into the fabric of our family through weekly worship services and prayer meetings, blessings before meals, bedtime stories and prayers, and frequent conversations with family members. As I got older, my involvement in church activities increased, and my own understanding of my faith and what was framed as my personal relationship with Jesus Christ grew. I remained cozy in evangelical Christianity throughout my college years, continuing to attend church, engage in daily personal Bible study and prayer, and serve through my college’s Campus Crusade for Christ ministry.

Whenever someone begins a spiritual autobiography this way, the implication is often that something then happened, that some shift occurred to change the trajectory of the expected path. And while these things did happen, I can’t trace it to a single event or even period of time. Maybe it was meeting my husband the summer before my senior year in college, a deeply intelligent and thoughtful man whose own faith had undergone significant dissembling and reassembling in the months before we met. Maybe it was traveling to Uzbekistan on a cultural exchange with my college ministry buddies and experiencing the love and hospitality of people of different, or no faith, there. Maybe it was moving to Cambridge, MA after getting married right out of college, where we experienced a definite cultural shift from our suburban Bible-Belt environment. Maybe it was hanging out with Jesuits, Franciscans, Benedictines, and other Catholics at my husband’s graduate school there, or experiencing the social activism of our Baptist church home in Cambridge. Maybe it was moving to Princeton, NJ and finding our spiritual home at a United Church of Christ congregation in the middle of that small, idyllic town, and witnessing the fire of older saints’ faith which had been forged through decades of practicing progressive Christianity. Maybe it was Obama, and the way he engaged people of all faiths to see the possibility and necessity of using government to care for the least of these. Maybe it was the work of Jim Wallis, of reading issue after issue of Sojourners and seeing the ways that Christians are jumping in and doing the real work of caring for the poor without keeping cost, without needing numbers and conversions to bolster their faith. Maybe it was experiencing pregnancy and giving birth, and realizing the magic of growing a person inside my body and nourishing a baby with my own milk, with my own life, twice. Maybe it was moving to Tempe, AZ and being pulled as if with a magnet to our faith community here, the most ragtag, loving, beautiful bunch of misfits I ever saw, with our hearts open wide to whatever, and whomever, may come through our doors.

It’s possible that the shift had something to do with the guilt of never doing enough in my previous Christian tradition, of always falling short but never fully being able to count on God to still love me or the grace of Jesus to fill the gap between who I was and who I should be. It’s possible it had to do with the bean-counting I found here and there, of how many testimonies shared and how many souls converted when the work of Christ encompassed so much more in my mind. It’s possible it had to do with the boiling down of the broad, deep, wide, incomprehensibly beautiful work of the Spirit into 4 sentences, each illustrated by pertinent cartoons. And most recently, it’s possible the final shift slipped into place with the realization that 82% of my former cohorts used their rights, and privilege, to catapult the coarse, vulgar, greedy celebrity we know as the leader of our land into power.

The fact is that it’s done, that the trajectory has been different than it might have been. While I have faith in God, love for Christ, and a kinship with the Spirit that are true, deep, and meaningful to me on a daily basis, how these are manifested departs significantly from what I might have expected based on my early life. But as I expressed above, I like to think of that conversion as a moving towards something, rather than away from something. I think of it as embracing a much larger God than I had imagined, with a much more expansive love than I had been told and a closer knowledge and presence with us than I had ever envisioned.

While my faith surely remains simply a part of my identity, another reason it matters at this point in my life is my children. Having come from where I did (mark my husband’s beginning at roughly the same place on the spectrum) and having traveled to where I am now (repeat), how do I foster a life of faith in my family in a thoughtful, genuine way? The church we attend has a small and hardy children’s ministry but, as my own mother decided, I don’t want to depend on that alone to impart the beauty of Christian faith to my daughters. I may not want them to grow up in the cradle of Evangelicalism the way I did, but there are many facets of my upbringing I certainly wish to convey to them. So, what is a Progressive Christian to do?
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Psalm 78

7/15/2016

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This is a psalm that originally spoke of the stubborn hearts and repeated rebelling of God's people, despite God's goodness and generosity. In the original psalm, God grew angry and finally allowed the people to die off to see if it would make any difference with them.

I believe my rendering of this psalm speaks to a Thean worldview, one in which we as Creatures still rebel and in which God still resists that rebellion, but in which rebellion, resistance, and resolution are imagined in a very different way.


Psalm 78

 
Hear my teaching, my sisters,
   incline your ears to the words of my mouth.
 
I will open my mouth in a parable;
   I will declare the mysteries of ancient times.
 
That which we have heard and known,
and what our foremothers have told us,
   we will not hide from their children.
 
We will recount to generations to come
   the liberating deeds and loving power of Thea.
 
She established wisdom,
   which she gave us to teach our children;
 
That the generations to come might know,
and the children yet unborn;
   that they in their turn might tell it to their children;
 
So that they might discover their divine identity
   and live as icons of her in the world.
 
She worked marvels in the sight of our foremothers,
   in the land where they were once slaves.
 
She split open the sea and let them pass through;
   she made the waters stand up like walls.
 
She led them with a cloud by day,
   and all the night through with a glow of fire.
 
She split the hard rocks in the wilderness
   and gave them drink as from the great deep.
 
She brought streams out of the cliff,
   and the waters gushed out like rivers.
 
And she said to them, “This!
   This is what I want you to do for your fellow Creatures!”
 
But they strayed from the path she had given them,
   rebelling in the desert against her.
 
They tested her in their hearts,
   demanding food for their craving.
 
They railed against her and said,
   “Can you set a table in the wilderness?
 
True, she struck the rock, the waters gushed out, and the gullies overflowed;
   but are you able to give bread
   or to provide meat for her creatures?”
 
When Thea heard this,
   a fire ignited in her heart,
 
For they had no faith in Thea;
   how could they possibly have faith in themselves?
 
So she commanded the clouds above
   and opened the doors of heaven.
 
She rained down manna upon them to eat
   and gave them grain from heaven.
 
So mortals ate the bread of angels;
   she provided for them food enough.
 
She caused the east wind to blow in the heavens
   and led out the south wind by her might.
 
She rained down flesh upon them like dust
   and winged birds like the sand of the sea.
 
She let it fall in the midst of their camp
   and round about their dwellings.
 
So they are and were well filled,
   for she gave them what they craved.
 
But they did not believe in her promise,
   that her power to work miracles was also their power.
 
They remained steadfast in their stubbornness
   and had no faith in her wonderful works.
 
Then Thea woke as though from sleep,
   like a warrior refreshed with wine.
 
She set her eyes on her Creatures,
   whom she had always loved;
 
And she whispered in their hearts once more,
   that they might recognize their true calling, their deepest yearning,
   and become her miracle-working hands and feet and heart in the world.

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Daughters

9/24/2015

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I was brushing my teeth tonight when my husband came in to say that the girls had requested a lullaby. I used to sing them a lullaby every night, but it's been a long while since I've sung to them in bed. I went in quietly and sang "La la loo" from Lady and the Tramp.

La la loo, la la loo, oh my little star sweeper,
I'll sweep the stardust for you.
La la loo, la la loo, little soft fluffy sleeper,
here comes a pink cloud for you.
La la loo, la la loo, little wandering angel,
fold up your wings, close your eyes.
La la loo, la la loo, and may love be your keeper.
La la loo, la la loo, la la loo.

I turned to make a quiet exit, but my two year old grinned up at me and said, "Mommy, seen! One, two, free!"

So I sang again, and both of my girls smiled at me from their beds, and my cup overflowed.
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Sacred Rebels

9/15/2015

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A good friend of mine, a fellow writer, introduced me to the Sacred Rebels Oracle, which is a deck of cards akin to a Tarot deck. It includes forty-four cards and a 180-page guidebook with descriptions of each card, and it's designed specifically for creative types (and even more particularly for women).

I looked through the deck for the first time today, and the cards swept me away not only with their images, but their themes. The tenth card, called "Releasing Allegiances," particularly stood out to me as I contemplated my next creative project, which is to write a gospel according to Kate.
I thought immediately of Luke 14:26 as I looked at this card: "If anyone comes to me and does not hate father and mother, wife and children, brothers and sisters...such a person cannot be my disciple." When I think of my own allegiances, I think of my long-time devotion to the Roman Catholic Church, and then to the Episcopal Church, and especially the Benedictine Canons (a Benedictine, Episcopalian religious order for men and women in which I was a novice for nine months). It was to my great surprise that I had to let go of my allegiances to my former Christian communities in order to turn my focus entirely to Thea.

As I break down the doors of the early medieval canon of Christian scripture by writing my own gospel, this oracle card resonates with me profoundly. By writing a gospel of my own, I am turning inward, where the light of Thea burns brightly.

I'm excited to write this gospel, to reimagine religious narratives as a Thean narrative, and to use this gospel in my house church liturgy when it is finished. My daughters will grow up hearing and learning from a truly feminist gospel, and in that, I know that my work and call as a house church priest will not be for nothing.
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Mother God

7/22/2015

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I have a thurible at home that's made of wood. It has eight sides and a spire leading to a point at the top. Dozens of holes are carved in the wood to make way for the smoke of lit incense.

My older daughter picked up my thurible today and asked me what it was for--it's not something we use very often for our home liturgies. I told her it was for incense, and she asked me what incense was. I told her that incense made a nice smell. She asked if we could smell the incense. So I went to the cupboard, pulled out matches, charcoal, and incense, and readied the thurible.

When the sweet-smelling smoke began to rise, she asked if we could pray. I pulled her into my lap and asked her who we should pray for. The usual litany of names began. When she had run out of names, she jumped off the bed, gathered up all our liturgy books, and placed them side by side on the bedspread. "Let's read about Mother God," she said, so we picked up Heart Talks with Mother God and read about God as mother eagle (Deuteronomy 32:11).

I am grateful that my daughters are able to imagine God in the feminine. Thea is their name for her. I never imagined myself rearing Theans, nor did I imagine myself self-identifying as a Thean, but here I am--here we are--making our way in the midst of the enveloping and awe-inspiring divine feminine.
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Living Lent: Insights

3/22/2015

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Sunday is the day of the week when my daughters and I celebrate Eucharist together. We've been doing our own house-church liturgy for about two months now, and each week I tweak the ordo, trying to get it just right for us. Somehow, in all these weeks, I've forgotten to include intercessory prayers between the homily and the Eucharistic prayer, so I added a place for them today. I didn't write them out ahead of time; I wanted to see who my older daughter would want to pray for. I let her take the lead during liturgy.

"Miriam," she said first. I asked her who else.

"Daddy and Mommy," she said next. I added Anastasia's name to the mix, and a few more names came up.

Then she said, "I want to pray for everybody--for all the people."

I nodded and grinned a wide grin. If I ever want proof that I'm doing this mommy gig right, all I need is a dose of Anastasia's thealogical insight. Every single Sunday, when we gather for liturgy, she'll say something that makes me think to myself, "If only adults got religion like you did!"

Her intuitions about God and the way we relate to God are right on the mark. During our shared homily today, she talked about Thea as the mother hen, and she said that Thea loves all her little chicks, and she said she and Miriam were Thea's little chicks. "Yes, you are," I said, "and she's very proud of you, just like I am." It was Anastasia's turn to grin then, and I gave her a big hug before continuing on.

God is indeed with us.
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76

3/17/2015

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Thea,
bless adoptive mothers with your generosity and love,
especially my grandmother, who was born this day.
Amen.
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61

3/2/2015

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Thea,
my daughter wants to know where you are,
so I told her where you are:
in her, in me, between us, around us,
among us;
present as bread and wine,
as soil and seed,
as papa and mama,
as sister and daughter.
I pointed to you in all of our everydays.
I said you loved her as much as I do,
and she got you.
Thank you for being vivid and immediate;
thank you for being as close as our fingertips touching.
Amen.

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32

2/1/2015

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Thea,
you are a wise, loving, and proud mother,
attending to the cares of your children.
Over the course of each day, attend to me:
be witness to my stumblings and successes,
and be my guide on barely worn paths.
Amen.
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30

1/30/2015

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Thea,
your voice hovers over the deep
of the turbulent heart
like a mother bent over her young.
Speak,
that I may hear your presence
once more.
Amen.

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Spirit Whispers: Peace

7/15/2014

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Last night this news alert came to my e-mail from the N.Y. Times: Israel’s Security Cabinet Accepts Egyptian Cease-fire Proposal.

The war over God-given land rights that's been taking place between Israel and Palestine since the establishment of the State of Israel in 1948 continues to escalate. I woke up this morning to another headline: a young Palestinian was murdered after three young Israelis sought a victim to avenge the murder of three young Israelis who went missing last month, whose bodies were discovered a couple of weeks ago.

I received an e-mail from a local synagogue yesterday asking for help in the form of protein bars for special teams of the Israel Defense Forces (IDF). Do I support the murder that springs forth from this terror-filled war by helping the soldiers? Do I support murder if I don't help the soldiers? As I scroll through the social network feeds of my Jewish and Muslim friends, I see anger and shame at the failure on both sides to seek peace. I see two controversial Facebook groups, "Israel Loves Palestine" and "Palestine Loves Israel," decrying the hatred and violence.

How long will the fight over this holy land continue? How long will bloodshed reign? How long will terror beget terror?

I am aware that this is not my fight, that I am a privileged, white, Christian American who has little reason to fear for her safety on the basis of borders or religion. But it is my fight, because we are all human, and all the world is the household of God.


Did you read the story about the 16-year old Palestinian boy, Mohammed Abu Khdeir, who was kidnapped and murdered about a week and a half ago by a gang of Israeli young men and boys?
Over four hundred Israeli mothers came to offer condolences to Mohammed Abu Khdeir's family.

Perhaps it will be women who end this horrific fight. Perhaps it will be women who illumine the way to kindness that knows no boundaries, compassion that transcends religious ties, and self-emptying, hatred-deflating love that witnesses to God's embrace of all creation.

May peace come swiftly--in Palestine, in Israel, and in my own stony heart.

What in me needs to change so that my religion and my nation's borders do not threaten the lives and joy of others? What in me needs to change so that I might become a bright beacon of God's enveloping peace?
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Spirit Whispers: Mother

6/30/2014

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When Paul writes to the church at Thessalonica, he compares the ministry of himself and his fellow leaders to that of a mother.
But we were gentle among you, like a nursing mother tenderly caring for her own children. So deeply do we care for you that we are determined to share with you not only the gospel of God but also our own selves, because you have become very dear to us.
   -Thessalonians 2:7b-8
This ministry is one of gentleness, of refreshment, of steady abiding-with that overflows with love. He regards the members of the Thessalonian church as very dear.

Belonging now to a church in which the vocations of women to ordained ministry are recognized and fully accepted, I find fresh meaning in this. In this passage, Paul is unafraid of comparing himself and other leaders to devoted women. In recommending himself to the Thessalonian church, he embraces a maternal image. In mothering, goodness may be found. In mothering, loyalty may be found. In mothering, unfettered love may be found. In mothering, all the nourishment a young one needs may be found.

To be a gracious, loving, effective, Godly minister, in this passage, is to be a mother.

I am grateful to be part of a church that embraces the title of "Mother" for its female priestly ministers. When I consider the call I hear to priestly ministry, considering it in terms of mothering enriches it beyond what any book on priesthood might say. Mothering is something I get. Mothering implies total commitment, total love, and totally deep joy--even in the midst of difficulties and trials. I would give anything for my children, including my life.

Isn't this what the high priest, Jesus the Christ, does?
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Easter: Day 25

5/14/2014

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We're halfway to Pentecost, the feast of God's Spirit. In the West the color of the Spirit is red, just as the color of Jesus as Lord is red. In the East, however, the color of the Spirit is green, marking the Spirit's greening, creative, birthing work.

As I struggle through the labor of giving birth to the vocation that's been gestating in me all my life, I am in need of a skillful, experienced midwife. I find myself wondering if I'm fit for the mothering I'm preparing to engage in. Will I have the energy to do it? How will I maintain balance so I don't fall apart? Is this sort of mothering my true call? What if that which I birth is nothing like what I expected?

I have a whole team of midwives to help me through this process, but their skill and encouragement doesn't make my birthing easier. It hurts. It's one of the most difficult things I've ever done. And there is the horrifying-because-it-seems-so-selfish possibility that I will disappointed with what emerges from me. I am conscious of wanting things to go a certain way, and aware that they may not, and aware that that's out of my hands. The Spirit has something in store for me beyond my imagining, and my job is to let my expectations roll off me so I can focus on laboring it into the world.

The above image is from Matthew Fox's Illuminations of Hildegard of Bingen. It's called "Sin - Drying Up."

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Easter

4/20/2014

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This is the day the Lord has made!
Let us rejoice and be glad!


Christ is risen from the dead,
trampling down death by death,
and upon those in the tombs
bestowing life!


Christ is risen indeed!
Alleluia! Alleluia! Alleluia!
Furthermore,

My toddler Easters when she wakes up crying and seeks my early-morning arms.
My infant daughter Easters when she utters "Ma-Ma" as her greeting for the first time.
I Easter when I behold my sleeping beloved and smile.

The world Easters every time it loves without fetter.

Easter!

Alleluia!
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Living Lent: Shards

3/26/2014

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After I wrote yesterday about Mary as the Reed of God, a dear person in my life sent me a reflection she had written about mothering and Advent. I thought I might have written an Advent reflection while I was pregnant (or just after I was pregnant), so I scoured my mommy blog and this blog to find one. Alas, I didn't find what I was looking for, but I did find something else.

The day before yesterday I posted my Sunday homily, the one I was invited to give at both of the 3rd Sunday of Lent liturgies at my parish. I shared with several people afterward that giving that homily meant breaking through the glass ceiling of my former Roman Catholic identity.

Isn't it odd, then, that I should come across an old blog post, over a year old, about breaking through that very same glass ceiling?

I invite you to read that post and ponder it with me. Some questions you might use to frame your pondering could include: What is the hermeneutical slant I bring to my religious framework?
In what ways does my privilege shape my reading of my sacred texts? In what ways does my marginalization shape my reading of those texts?

The lesson I take from my old blog post is difficult: the glass ceiling is not something I have broken once and for all. As long as any woman is made to seem lesser when compared with a man, I will need to keep breaking through it, whether I'm the woman in the comparison or not. This, I realize, is part of my prophetic call.

How do I come to recognize the prophetic role I am called to play in the world? How do I develop that prophetic ability once I have recognized my responsibility?
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An Open Letter to Pope Francis from a Roman Catholic

1/17/2014

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PictureM. Kate Allen
To Pope Francis:

In my almost thirty-two years as a Roman Catholic, I have never been prouder of any pope. Granted, I've only encountered three in my lifetime, but I am also a student of Christian history. You stand out among your predecessors.

You have rocked the entire world with your embodied proclamations of the good news. You kiss the wounds of the sick. You share tables with those who have neither tables of their own nor food to put on them. You warn your clergy again and again against the glamour of clericalism. Your love is abundant, like Christ's was and is, and I have seen it have a multiplying effect, even (perhaps especially) among non-Roman Catholics.

I am tremendously grateful to God for your faithful, living witness to the teachings of Jesus. Your heart is wide open, and I feel quite certain that if I happened to walk into your midst, you would smile and greet me with the warmth of an old friend, and I would greet you likewise.

I need to confess something to you. On February 16, 2014, God willing, I will leave my cloak of Roman Catholic identity behind in order to be received as a member of the Episcopal Church.

Despite having spent my entire life as a devoted (albeit flawed) Roman Catholic, I cannot remain Roman Catholic any longer. Because despite the gospel of Jesus you now proclaim miraculously through your very body, and despite the many ways in which I encounter Christ's presence through your holy example, I'm afraid there is at least one way in which you, like most if not all of your predecessors, have failed to hear the voice of God and heed it: in the calling of thousands upon thousands of women around the world to ordained ministry.

I was able to name my own God-given call to ordained ministry thirteen years ago. I was still a teenager then. I am close with several Roman Catholic women who share the same call. Yet you, like your papal predecessors, have dismissed even the possibility that women might be called to ordained ministry.

I don't understand this hardness of heart. Not from you.

What I do understand is how hard it can be to hear God's earnest whispers when so much of one's culture screams against it. My favorite psalm is Psalm 51, because it is a perpetual invitation to be changed, transformed, turned around:

Create in me a clean heart, o God.
...
Then will I teach transgressors Thy ways
and sinners shall be converted unto Thee.

I suspect this psalm is as dear to you as it is to me. Please, then, let God's whispers reach your ear through my meager words: God calls some women to serve as ordained ministers. That the Roman Catholic hierarchy refuses to acknowledge this (or even to discuss it) is gravely sinful. It is presumptuous to deny God's calling to those whom God has chosen.

Please, for God's sake, don't allow whatever is lacking in me cause you to be deaf to what God is speaking to you through me in this moment. If anyone with the authority to effect gospel change in the Roman Catholic Church can hear this prophetic word, I believe you can.

Please, open your heart and listen for the sake of my daughters, who will grow up in the midst of your legacy even if they never set foot in a Roman Catholic church.

Please, listen. Listen because you know better than almost anyone that God speaks prophetically through those who are marginalized, women included.

Please, I beg you from the bottom of my heart, listen--allow yourself to be importuned by me, just like the judge was importuned by the widow, or like Jesus was importuned by the woman begging for scraps. You and I both know what happened in those latter two instances. If Jesus' mind could be changed, surely yours can.

I believe that the world-wide turning of hearts to God, if you listened in this one way and acted accordingly, would be a miracle of biblical proportion.

With blessings and love in the One who creates, redeems, and sanctifies all the world,

M. Kate Allen




This letter originally appeared at parentwin.com, where I am a regular contributor on topics of religion.  The letter went viral among my Facebook friends and received more discussion and shares there than anything else I've every written, anywhere.  A friend of mine encouraged me to mail it to Pope Francis.  I did.  If he responds, I will share his response here.  (Unless he asks me not to.)

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Praying with Icons: Miriam

1/5/2014

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PicturePhoto by M. Kate Allen
While on retreat with St. Augustine's Church this weekend, adults were invited to pray with an icon.  One of the mothers there had just commented that my daughter, Miriam, certainly qualified as an icon.  So I prayed with Miriam, allowing God to behold me through her.  I gave voice to my encounter in this way:



We are Godparents.
We are God's parents.
God is our child.

On the seventh day she rested because she was exhausted. She needed rest.

God needs the safety of our arms. God needs our vigilant care and protection.

God would die without us.
God grows up in our midst.

We have a critical role to play in God's destiny.

God is a child and we are her parents. Without our constant attention, she suffers.
We are her caregiver. She needs us to survive.

We are the parents of God, and she loves us implicitly.
May we never betray her love.
Our excuses not to care for her will burst like old wineskins.

She trusts that we will give her all she needs. She trusts that we will be there when she awakes. She trusts that if we put her in the arms of another, that that other will care for her just as well.

We are God's parents and we would die for her.

Her radiant smile stops time in an eternal, brilliant moment.

We feed her with good things.

We love God, for she is our own daughter, wonderfully made in our image.
Her voice causes us to laugh, dance, and run.
Her smile melts our chill anger.
Her cries alert us.

We listen when she calls.

Listen, o mother, give ear to My words.

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Vigil of the Nativity of the Christ

12/25/2013

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PicturePhoto by Thad Botham
And with that, Advent is over.  God is with us--Emmanuel--alleluia, alleluia, alleluia!

I love Christmas.  I love the radicality of the Christmas message that says God isn't so transcendent that God can't be flesh.  I love the intimacy of this God who is both divine and human at once, and who teaches us--like the good rebbe he is--to be the same.

I am so grateful this night for hope fulfilled in the midst of so much doubt and despair.  Light does pierce shadows, dispelling them.  Goodness is stronger than evil, breaking it down with the power of gentleness.  A godly child does make a worldly ruler tremble, displacing cunning selfishness with its own absolute reliance on the sacred other for survival.

The message of the incarnation is that we desperately, utterly need each other.  Humanity and divinity meet in community and communion, not in isolation.  God can't do this gig without us, and we can't sustain God's divine flame within ourselves without the companionship of others.

That's my daughter to the left.  She is about take flight, one of God's own angeloi, standing before the holy altar at the feet of the infant Christ.  She's just carried in a sheep, practicing for her future role as shepherdess.  Later,
she danced during the offering of the holy gifts, and I had the presence of mind not to stop her.  I look at her and see an icon of the Christ, bearing glad tidings and preaching good news through her very body.  She did tonight what you and I do for each other every day.

Merry Christmas to you, o holy bearers and birthers of God.

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    M. Kate Allen
    Weaver of words. Spinner of spirals. Midwife of the One whom I call Thea.

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