*ponders*

*contemplates the nitty gritty, down-to-earth realities of the events of the resurrection*

... *starts typing*

Jena's in a midrash mood!  Stay tuned!

Mother Fast is still going, I promise

I often describe an event earlier in my life as having "taken the wind out of my sails".  It was a heart-breaking incident that caused me to lose all forward momentum in my life and toward a goal.  I redirected my course and found what I needed, more than I had imagined, and for that I'm grateful virtually every day.  Still, I lost propulsion, lost power.

Looking at the past year of my life and the deceleration I've experienced again in areas I'm passionate about, I wonder if things haven't so much "taken the wind out of my sails" as "blown holes" in them.  The storms of life have ripped holes in my sails and made it difficult to make headway and steer where I want to go.   The Mother Fast has been one of the things that has suffered, I'm afraid.  Mothers have been a difficult subject for me for obvious reasons.

I have this stubborn pride thing where I don't like my motives to be... apparent... or guessable.  I don't like to be predictable.  I might fail at it, but I don't like it.  And I really hate it when I think someone might look down on me for it.  So, when I entered a time of Mothering crisis and grief in my personal life, I didn't want anyone to stumble on this venture and go "Stupid girl, she just misses her Mom and she's trying to replace her with Heavenly Mother.  Her personal struggle isn't a good enough reason to try and change the way the Church works!"

Mothers are a big thing for me, you see.  My first one gave me up for reasons unknown to me, except that a divorce was involved.  I was cared for by a foster mother for a short time before I came to my real mother.  And I grew up knowing of a Heavenly Mother, but knowing very little about her... kind of like my birth mother.  I ached for years to become a mother of many myself, and I surrounded myself with fertility and pregnancy and birth in order to be around and serve mothers.  I have mothered countless friends.  Even now, when I look at children and sometimes wonder if I really want to take that challenge on, I mainly question whether I'd really make a good mother, or if I'm too exhausted from caring for adults to have much left to dedicate to children.  Mothering matters to me, tremendously.  I don't want some monstrous, heartless, "well-meaning", self-righteous internet troll to come stamping up to the walls of my Mother shrine and graffitiing it with judgment and a conservative attitude toward upholding the traditions of patriarchy.

So I've hidden in my silence and floundered in the hurricane of my grief and confusion, the chaos that has enveloped my life for the past twelve months.  I've failed to fast so many times out of forgetfulness or neglect or just not feeling up to withholding whatever form of nourishment sustained me.  I've felt like a failure, like I wasn't doing my part in the struggle for equality and balance and hope for a better future.  I've had to be very compassionate with myself.

I'm not saying I'm ready to go roaring in, banners high, sails mended and billowing in the wind.  But I'm here, as battered by the storms as I am.  I still love my Mothers.  I need Mothers in my house, above and below, and I miss them in their absence.  Hopefully tomorrow, I'll be strong enough to fast, again.

Rumor has it women will be praying in General Conference.  That, too, gives me hope. :)

The firsts are almost over

Life has been and continues to be difficult of late.  January and February were very hard, financially.  (Note to self: Don't take an "extravagant" trip to Vegas right before your worst two months of the year.)  I made it through only by the grace of God, angels, and a bare handful of clients.  Now that March is looking up, financially, I am entering the hardest nine weeks of this first year.

By this time a year ago, we knew that Mom was going to go home.  The nine weeks that followed until after her memorial were fraught with mixed emotions, both difficult and precious.  This is the final round of Firsts.  We survived the first holiday season, the first birthdays, the first summer...  It has to get better from there, right?  We'll get used to feeling a little lost without her, used to regretting the conversations we never had, used to overcoming the impulse to cry, and used to wishing she was around.

Often time it feel like I'm chest deep in manure.  I can still breathe and speak and move my arms about; and there's flowers growing all around me, beautiful and brightly colored, with heady perfumes that make me happy and mask the stench of shit.  It makes it easier to endure, gives me reasons to be grateful, even if it doesn't change to the fundamental nature of the situation.  I find myself grieving more than just my mother's death these days.  I grieve many things.  There's a lot to hold space for, and sometimes it doesn't feel like there's enough space to hand space in.

Tongue-tied

Mother's milk... A sweet substance, readily available, but rarely leaking out unless the Mother hears the cry of a child.  Even then, for the child to receive it, the child must suckle at Mother's breast, held close and safe and warm in her arms.  Is there anything more innately human, more divine than to be nourished and nurtured?

But nursing does not always go smoothly.  One condition that comes to mind is called tongue tie.  As adults, we think of being tongue-tied as being unable to articulate or communicate.  To an infant, it means the frenulum of their tongue is too short and can sometimes (not always) make latching on to the breast difficult or impossible.  Depending on the severity of the tie, babies may have difficulty thriving.  Interestingly, both the adult and infant conditions find their application in the world of prayer.  Being spiritually tongue-tied prevents us from both communicating with our Mother and taking in the nourishment that only she can provide.

I would cry, too!

 "And it came to pass that [Jesus] did teach and minister unto the children of the multitude of whom hath been spoken, and he did loose their tongues, and they did speak unto their fathers [and mothers] great and marvelous things, even greater than he had revealed unto the people; and he loosed their tongues that they could utter." 3 Nephi 26: 14

Can you imagine the greater wonders that would come forth in the world if Her childrens' tongues were loosed to suckle from the breast of God the Mother and speak the words She gives?

The best Visiting Teacher I've ever had...

is a Jehovah's Witness.

She comes with some regulatory, says hi, asks how I am, has a short blurb and a Watchtower to hand me, then leaves.  It's over in about five minutes. Dad thinks I should tell her to stop coming and maybe I should so I'm not wasting her time or mine, but in a way I kind of like it.  I'm not a very high needs person most of the time, but it's nice to have someone drop by and let me know I'm thought of, even if just in a proselyting way.

I could learn a few lessons from her about being a better Visiting Teacher, myself.

Priesthood, Motherhood... Singlehood.

One of my friends shared this article and tagged me to read it. I'm not certain of her motivations. Maybe she just thought I'd find it interesting because it's about Mormonism being feminist. Maybe she wanted my thoughts. Maybe she wanted to throw me a "You're not one of those Priesthood-wanting feminists, are you?" I don't think it's that last one: I've been generally quite cautious about saying "Hey, I think women should have ordination, too" and only hinting at it obliquely.  I'd be a little surprised if anyone had solidly picked up on it up to this point, though my response may have added evidence.

Anyway, I have to say... I'm glad the author considers herself a feminist, I really do think that an eternal balance of male-female is needed (somehow, in some way shape or form, not necessarily tied to biological sex in this life) to activate the fullness of Priesthood power, and I really like the idea of balancing o

ut the purposes for there even to be males and females and balancing events in a way that truly is complementary. But.

But.

I cannot ignore that a worthy single man of 30 can participate in his Priesthood duties, while the very act of participating in biological mothering duties would render a single woman of 30 utterly unworthy, outcast, and likely excommunicated. Likewise, no worthy married man is denied the utilization of any Priesthood he possesses, when a married woman may be physically unable to bear children. Potential equality, symbolic equality, is not the same as actual equality.

My response to her:

Very interesting, well-written article. I really like the symbolic parallels that she draws. I love that she points out that culture often contradicts doctrine. The only (big) issue I have with the Motherhood=Priesthood line of thinking every time I run into it is that it leaves no room anywhere for unmarried-and-childless worthy women. Promises that it will be made up to us in the life to come sound lovely, but for this life it does nothing for us. No such promise is made to unmarried-and-childless worthy men, because it's not needed even though they too are not part of an eternal pairing. They can already otherwise administer and participate in their duties. Single women are the remainder left over when all the power or influence is divided up. Therefore I cannot agree that women and men are implicitly treated as equals, because I, myself, am that remainder and it hurts to go through life that way.
Other than that giant thorn in my side, very nice article and I otherwise really like the symmetry she presents, and I totally agree that Mormonism is the most eternally feminist Christian sect of which I'm aware. :) 

It does hurt.  "People" (the vaporous, vague, vast swath of faceless humanity who think these ways) expect us to get over it, to get married, or just deal.  There is no Prospective Wives class, no Prospective Mothers class available like there is for Prospective Elders.  There is no interview that concludes with "You've done well and faithfully.  You are worthy of and ready for marriage.  We'll seal you to a good man next Sunday after Sacrament meeting."  (Thankfully!)  A boy from the age of 12 begins to exercise authority and perform duties.  A girl from age 12 is being prepared for a marriage and family that may or may not come and taught not to bare her midriff, shoulders, or thighs.  (Also, I like kids, but I do not want to spend eternity in a bioliteral process of producing spirit babies.  Aren't intelligences supposed to be without beginning or end, anyway?)

I could get on board with Motherhood and Priesthood being the true complements if women had the same opportunity based on their biology to fulfill that role as men have the opportunity based on their life choices.  However, I still hold to the belief that women have their own divine Priestesshood that is the complement to male Priesthood and that it is the combination of these powers that results in the eternal power and authority of Godhood.  Or, at the very least, there is a Feminine/Priestess complement to the Masculine/Priest.  Whether that is truly reliant on biologically expressed sex or spiritually expressed gender, or any other configuration of the two, I do not know. And where does that leave intersex individuals?  They do exist, you know, and they are also children of God.  There must be a place and a way for them as well, to my way of thinking.

All these things--and more--come together and lead me to believe that the Ninth Article of Faith is an underappreciated doctrine.  How open are we to new information?  I know I've wondered that before.  After nearly 18 months since launching the Mother Fast, I still wonder.  It's kinda hard to believe it has been that long.  It seems like I just started.  Time does move on, and so far, little has changed beside the age at which women can serve a mission.  The good thing is... that was received with general rapture and enthusiasm.  There is hope for change, still.

Still, other than that... being a single Mormon woman sucks.

Radical love and the spirit of Christmas

Good morning, sisters and brothers.  I hope you’ll forgive the way I sound; I contracted a cold the other day in a last ditch effort to make my Father speak for half an hour by himself, but to no avail.  In all seriousness, though, I am grateful for the opportunity to speak to you today, and I pray that the Spirit will open all of our hearts.

I come to speak to you about Christmas and the spirit of Christmas.  First, I wish to talk about the Nativity story itself.  There is a long-standing tradition among many of Christ’s followers that Mary and Joseph were turned away from every public inn or “hotel” in the little town of Bethlehem, even though she was about to give birth.  Only a very brief knowledge of Middle Eastern culture is needed to see that this is unlikely.

Mary and Joseph were both descendants of David, returning to the City of David; they were royalty without crowns.  They also likely would have had many relatives still in the region.  Even if they could not find place with extended family, customs of hospitality to guests and strangers would have made it easy for them to find a private home to welcome them, rather than begging at the door of the public house and being turned away to a barn or a cave.  No one, especially not a couple born of royal blood who were about to have a child, would not have been turned away to find their own shelter; to do so would have shamed the entire village.  Rather, a deep spirit of generosity would have been extended to them and doors opened.

The Greek words topos and kataluma are used in Luke 2:7.  They are translated in the King James Version as “room” and “inn” respectively, as in “She wrapped him in swaddling cloths and laid him in a manger, because there was no room for them in the inn.”.  A better translation would be “space” and “guest room”.  In fact, kataluma is used later in Luke when Jesus asks to use a guest room to celebrate Passover.  It wasn’t that the local hotels had the No Vacancy sign up, it was that the spare room in a two room home was already full.  Another guest family, or perhaps even the host family, may have occupied the more private second room when Mary and Joseph came into the house.  

In those days, animals were commonly brought in at night and kept in a portion of the house that was slightly lower than the family’s living quarters.  For this purpose there would have been a manger within the walls of the house itself, and with some clean straw, it would have made a safe resting place for a newborn among tight quarters, free from drafts and bustling feet.  And after a birth attended by the women of the house and possibly a midwife or other experienced women from the neighborhood, the announcement of a first born son would have resulted in jubilation and congratulations with music and dancing by the men while mother and child got settled in.  The shepherds would have had little trouble finding the source of the ruckus; the sign of being laid in a manger was intended merely to confirm that this one child was the promised Messiah.  By this understanding of life in First Century Judea, we see that Mary, Joseph, and Jesus were never turned away. They were accepted and taken in and sheltered as honored guests, their hosts possibly even giving up their own space in the house for them, and the birth celebrated by a loving community of family and friends.  Is this not the spirit of Christmas?

Do we likewise recognize not only Christ, but our brothers and sisters on the Earth as being members of a royal lineage and make space for them within the home of our hearts?  Do we honor them by making room and being generous and kind with our substance, rather than pushing them out into the cold?  Do we show love to the weary travelers around us?

Jesus taught and exhibited a radical philosophy of love in his mortal ministry.  (You know?  “Radical dude!”  No?  Sorry.  I mean “radical” in the sense of being very different from the usual or traditional.)  While hospitality was the standard for guests in one’s home, Israel was still culturally ruled by “an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth” and to forgive a person only to their seventh insult.  Jesus taught that instead we should turn the other cheek, and forgive to seventy times seven.  In the Sermon on the Mount as recorded in Matthew chapter 5, Christ tells us that whoever sues for our coat, we should give them our cloak as well.  Whoever compels us to go a mile with them, go with them two.  Love our enemies and pray for them and do good to them.  Why?  Why would we do that?

I think, in part, it is this: When we give more to someone who has taken from us, when we do what we can to fill whatever need they have, we remove from them the spiritual wound of being a thief or a beggar or a suer.  When someone asks us to go with them on part of their journey--when they say to us, “I need someone to walk with me for a little while, for company or as a guardian or a guide” and we go that distance and further still, we follow through.  We tell them, ‘I will travel this difficult road with you, and I will still be a friend when you no longer “need” me, because I have come to love you and I will make certain that you get where you’re going as safely as possible.’  When we pray for an enemy, when we serve them and love them, we often gain a friend and an ally.  Differences may remain, but they matter far less when people love each other.  This was a radical idea in Jesus’ day, and sadly, it remains so today.

Loving each other is the ultimate message of Jesus’ teachings.  Loving each other is the spirit of Christmas.  This is not a lop-sided, parasitic love that drains the life from one to feed the other, but a dynamic relationship of mutual understanding, tolerance, and admiration.  If nothing else, it is a recognition of the divinity in every soul.  “As I have loved you, love one another.  By this shall [all] know you are my disciples.”  Jesus put no exceptions on His new commandment.  The quality of love that we give to others is the hallmark of how well we follow Him.  The love of God, the love of  Christ is radical, unconditional, and boundless.  Christ’s love is service and humility and grace.  Our Heavenly Father and Mother love us so radically, that They sent Jesus to suffer and die for us in order to make us at-one with Them.  Christ loves and serves the unloveable and lowly--the lepers, the harlots, the tax collectors, the outcasts--as well as those who are easy to love and mighty.  To me, this is the spirit of Christmas.  Can we strive to do the same, and not limit it to the month of December?

I have talked with and listened to many of our faith who have reduced or left off activity in the Church, even those who have left the Church entirely.  While no reason is universal, overwhelmingly,the primary reason given for staying away is a lack of Christ-like love from those who are meant to be their brothers and sisters, a lack of acceptance or support.  To characterize this as their “choosing to be offended” misses a point of which I think our Savior would have been keenly aware.  I am not here to call you to repentance, because I don’t know the dynamics of your ward.  However, I wish to encourage everyone here to be sensitive, to be kind, to stand up for the downtrodden, and to open the homes of their hearts to those who are different.  Love those who may seem to you to be unfaithful or weak or rebellious or weird.  Love them without agenda, for they have their story and their reasons just like you do.  Mourn with those who mourn, and comfort those who stand in need of comfort, for the sake of nothing more than being a better disciple of Jesus yourself and making the world a better place.  We are followers of a carpenter-rabbi-god who began his life in an overcrowded two room house in ancient Palestine, and thirty years later left everything behind to preach love to his people and the world.  It doesn’t get much more different or more humble than that.  May we make room inside ourselves for Him and all our brothers and sisters, year-round, in the spirit of Christmas.

I say these things in the name of Jesus Christ.  Amen.

* For more information on how the Nativity more likely happened, please go tohttp://www.truthortradition.com/modules.php?name=News&file=article&sid=1126

And yes, I was wearing pants.