Our Lady of Guadalupe

[Yesterday was the Feast Day of Our Lady of Guadalupe, and we celebrated her today for campus chapel. Below is a short reflection that I wrote for the service about what Our Lady means to me.]

Good morning and welcome to our chapel service in celebration of Our Lady of Guadalupe. I want to specifically thank Fr. Eddie for joining us here today. We are so grateful to get to spend this time with you. I also want to welcome those of you who have never been to a worship service centered around Marian devotion before. As a Catholic and as a feminist Marian devotion is at the center of my spiritual practice, and I feel so blessed to be able to celebrate Our Lady of Guadalupe with my PSR community.

Our Lady of Guadalupe is only one of the many Marian apparitions that Catholics celebrate. Like Jesus born in a manger, Mary first makes herself known not to lords and princes but to young girls, simple peasants and victims of foreign occupation. While Mary’s concern for the poor and oppressed has been shown in all of the Marian apparitions, I find it most powerfully true in the story of Our Lady of Guadalupe.

The feast day of Our Lady of Guadalupe (which was celebrated yesterday) celebrates when Mary, the mother of God, appeared to St. Juan Diego in the 1500’s. As an indigenous Mexican peasant living under Spanish colonization, Juan Diego would have been familiar with the blond-haired, blue-eyed depictions of Mary that can often be found covering our church walls, even today. However, when he encountered Our Lady she came to him as a dark-haired, dark-skinned woman who could have easily been a member of his own family. When Mary asked Juan Diego “am I not your mother?” he could see that of course she was.

Our Lady of Guadalupe entered in to colonized Mexico to tell Juan Diego that he, too, was made in the image of God, and I feel her presence still advocating for the oppressed today. I believe that Our Lady of Guadalupe celebrates the radical diversity found in the Roman Catholic Church and she encourages me to work for a day when our leadership better reflects that diversity. Like any good mother, she reminds me of my belovedness and assures me of my place in this family.

As we enter into this service, I invite you to reflect on the ways that you may see Mary working in our world today. How is she affirming your place as God’s beloved child, and how is she challenging you to build a world where all are recognized as children of God?

Mujerista theologian and Catholic laywoman Clarissa Pinkola Estes gives us this advice about how to recognize the presence of Our Lady of Guadalupe in our own lives. She says:

You will recognize her on sight,

for She is a woman

who looks just like you

and all that you love.

Big P Politics, meet little p politics

[Today, I spent some time looking through my old writing files and found some things that I thought had been lost in the black hole that is my hard drive. It was fun to find reminders of who I was in the not-so-distant past and to see how my dreams and values have changed and how they have remained the same.  Since this blog has mostly become a burial ground for my old writings, I thought I'd post this to remind you of (or introduce you to) Christine, circa 2008.

This is a speech that I wrote and presented at the 2008 Annual Meeting for the Friends Committee on National Legislation (FCNL) when I was a Field Intern there. My original ending to this speech seems to be lost to the ages, so I recreated the last paragraph to the best of my memory. You'll just have to believe me that the original ending was much cooler.

PS: I would be remiss in my duties as a former Field Intern if I didn't say that I highly recommend FCNL's internship program to all interested young adults. You can't do much better than working for Friends.]

November 2008

Like most of my fellow interns, my political views have matured during the Bush administration.  In the 2000 presidential election, I was a 17 year old high school senior.  I spent the fall of 2000 knocking on doors for a candidate that I wasn’t quite old enough to vote for.

I’m sure that I still don’t realize all of the ways that growing up during this administration and this war has affected me.  But I can say that when I graduated from Earlham College in 2007 I found it hard to relate to that 17 year old that had spent her Saturdays knocking on doors for presidential candidates and registering voters.  I was still committed to the ideas of peace and justice, but I had lost faith in our governments’ ability to promote those values.

New Dream: A Letter

[Today, I spent some time looking through my old writing files and found some things that I thought had been lost in the black hole that is my hard drive. It was fun to find reminders of who I was in the not-so-distant past and to see how my dreams and values have changed and how they have remained the same.  Since this blog has mostly become a burial ground for my old writings, I thought I'd post this to remind you of (or introduce you to) Christine, circa 2006.

I wrote this letter for my "Methods of Peacemaking" class, which was taught by Caroline Higgins at the start of her (and my) last semester of Earlham College. I consider myself incredibly lucky to have been able to 'graduate' with Caroline, and hope that she's having the fantastic retirement that she deserves.]

January 17 2006

Dear Friends,

This is my last semester of college and for one of the last classes I will ever take at Earlham I was required to write a letter to people I consider to be in my ‘personal network’ explaining my values, future goals and commitment to peace work.  If you have received this letter it is because you have at some point played an important role in the creation of my values and goals, and I want you to be a part of that conversation.

A lot of times I am asked why I chose Peace Studies as my major.  The only real answer I have is that I can’t think of anything in the world more important to study.  We have already become so incredibly efficient at war making– perfect, even– in the sense that we are now able to effectively end all humanity in one day if we wished to do so.  In that sense, we have literally reached as far as we are able to go in that direction.

A Letter for Fr. Roy

from Women's Ordination Conference. www.womensordination.org

Recently, Fr. Roy Bourgeois (founder of the School of the Americas Watch) received a letter from the Maryknolls saying that he would be removed from the order unless he recanted his support for women’s ordination. Today, Fr. Roy went to the Vatican Embassy, where he announced that he could not in good conscience recant his support for women’s ordination. You can read his full statement here.

In spite of the fact that I used to work for a peace lobby and am an enthusiastic supporter of citizen lobbying, I am usually quite horrible at writing letters to my representatives (or, to my bishops, for that matter). However, I was so affected by Fr. Roy’s bravery that I sat down this week and wrote a letter to the Superior General of the Maryknoll Fathers and Brothers. Here it is:

Dear Rev. Dougherty,

I am writing to say how sad I was to hear about your letter to Fr. Roy Bourgeois, informing him that he will be removed from the order if he does not recant his support for women’s ordination. I feel obligated to express my solidarity with Fr. Bourgeois because, even though we’ve never met, I feel that he has risked everything to speak for me.

As a young Roman Catholic woman who feels a call to ordination, I’m used to seeing women like myself and our supporters threatened for being open about our calling. However, I have found myself particularly heartbroken over Maryknoll’s handling of this situation because Maryknoll priests have always held a special place in my heart.

When I was 13, I first felt a call to ordination while hearing a Maryknoll priest give a homily at my church. This priest was visiting my small California parish after having done missionary work in Mexico, and as I heard him describe his life dedicated to the Body of Christ– both in the Bread and Wine and among the poor in Mexico– I felt an overwhelming voice inside of me say “THIS is what you need to do.” This experience has always made me feel a deep love for Maryknoll. If more doors had been open to me, I suspect that I would have fulfilled my priestly vocation as a Maryknoll.

As a college student six years ago, I first attended the SOA Watch vigil at Ft. Benning. I have now been to the vigil four times, and it has shaped my life in ways that I could have never anticipated. My experience at the vigil called me to be a more active Catholic, and lead to my current career in promoting solidarity between Christians in the US and Central America. I know countless other young adults who’s faith and life has been shaped by SOA Watch. Many of these young people have chosen to become Maryknoll priests, sisters or lay missioners as a result of this experience. I believe that Fr. Bourgeois is an incredible evangelist for Maryknoll and if he were removed from the community it would damage the fine reputation of this order, particularly among young adults.

I don’t believe that you want Fr. Bourgeois removed from the order, and I suspect that this whole ordeal is causing you a great deal of pain. By openly supporting women’s ordination, he has put you in a very difficult position. By asking you to allow Fr. Bourgeois to remain a Maryknoll, I know that I am asking you to take a personal risk, just as he did. But I have faith that as a priest and as a Maryknoll you aren’t a man who makes moral decisions based on convenience.

Our faith is full of saints who risked everything and took stances that put them at odds with the Church hierarchy. Some of them were excommunicated, or even martyred. In the end, these people weren’t judged by how the Church responded to them but by their faithfulness to the Church, as well as to their own conscience. Fr. Bourgeois has been a faithful servant of Christ for decades.  By challenging the Church that he loves, he is standing in the company of St. Joan of Arc, St. Mary MacKillop, St. Theodore Guerin and many more. I ask you to join them by taking a risk, yourself: please allow Fr. Bourgeois to remain a Maryknoll priest. Regardless of your views on women’s ordination, Fr. Bourgeois should not be excluded from the order that he has devoted his life to simply for following his conscience.

In 100 years, I believe that Catholic scholars will see Fr. Bourgeois’ statement as a key moment that lead to a more inclusive and accountable Church. I pray that those scholars will be able to say the same thing about Maryknoll.

In Christ’s peace,

Christine Haider

If you feel so moved, you can write your own letter to Fr. Dougherty at:

Rev. Edward Dougherty, M.M., Superior General
Maryknoll Fathers and Brothers
P.O. Box 305

Maryknoll, NY 10545

I would also encourage you to make a donation to SOA Watch (his organization) or Women’s Ordination Conference (which has been leading the movement to support Fr. Roy) in his honor.

Some good sources on the situation with Fr. Roy:

Bourgeois tells Maryknoll: ‘I cannot lie, I cannot recant’- National Catholic Reporter

Catholic priest who backs ordaining women faces expulsion- USA Today

Catholic Church Targets Proponent of Women’s Ordination; Feminist Theologian- Mary E. Hunt (Religion Dispatches)

Facing expulsion from church, priest vows to live for peace- Miami Herald

Roy Bourgeois’ priesthood can never truly end- Jamie Manson (National Catholic Reporter)

A Sermon on Menstrual Blood

Lately, I’ve been fortunate to participate in a young woman-lead preaching circle called Luke & Us, which is being run by Hosanna! People’s Seminary, a totally rad underground seminary that you should check out.

Today, it was my turn to preach and I used it as an opportunity to take another look at the Patron Saint of Embarrassing Problems.  I figure that since the sermon grew out of (and was plagiarized heavily from…) a work that I had previously posted on this blog, it’s only fair to post the new piece here, as well, even if this blog has become pretty inactive.

This was my first try at formal sermonizing, so I’d love to hear advice that anyone out there has.  (And, yes, I really did sing for part of it.  It was a growth experience, believe me.)

When Jesus returned, the crowd welcomed him, for they were all waiting for him. And a man named Jairus, an official of the synagogue, came forward. He fell at the feet of Jesus and begged him to come to his house, because he had an only daughter, about twelve years old, and she was dying. As he went, the crowds almost crushed him. And a woman afflicted with hemorrhages for twelve years, who (had spent her whole livelihood on doctors and) was unable to be cured by anyone, came up behind him and touched the tassel on his cloak. Immediately her bleeding stopped. .Jesus then asked, “Who touched me?” While all were denying it, Peter said, “Master, the crowds are pushing and pressing in upon you.” But Jesus said, “Someone has touched me; for I know that power has gone out from me.” When the woman realized that she had not escaped notice, she came forward trembling. Falling down before him, she explained in the presence of all the people why she had touched him and how she had been healed immediately. He said to her, “Daughter, your faith has saved you; go in peace.” -Luke 8:41-48

It’s easy to imagine how some stories were written into the bible.  The cynic in me can just see some pope or bishop writing down ‘Peter, you are the rock on which I shall build my church’ or naming 12 men as Jesus’ ministerial heirs, thereby giving such forgettable figures as Bartholomew, Andrew and Judas son of James authority over Mary and Martha of Bethany, Mary of Magdala and even Mary Mother of God.

It’s easy to see the hand of men in the Bible, but not always so easy to see the hand of God.  But every once in a while we find a bible story so subversive that we know there’s no way that it could have survived without divine inspiration.

Risen?

For the last few weeks I’ve been exceptionally quiet on the blog.  Lent was full of trials and pain for me, which was then miraculously followed by the rebirth (liturgically/personally/emotionally) of Easter, reminding me more than ever before that He- and we- are risen.  A priest at my parish says that “we are not commemorating a history, we are celebrating a mystery” and that has never seemed more true to me than it has this year. However, I’m afraid that in all the messy experience of life-death-resurrection, I haven’t had much time to blog about it.

Lately, I’ve been reflecting on the crucifixion of the child molestation scandal currently rocking our church.  What possible resurrection could come out of this horrible betrayal?  However, every time I sit down to write about it, I find myself so angry, frustrated, confused and defensive that I can’t seem to write anything but a stream of obscenities.

While I attempt to cleanse my language and organize my thoughts, I wanted to repost some wisdom that I stumbled upon through facebook.  Meredith Gould posted a beautiful reflection on Paul Campell’s blog on the question “Why do you choose to stay in the Catholic church when it appears to be in crisis?” and Paul then responded to the same question on her blog.

Both of these reflections tackle the question with more grace, wisdom and honesty than I’m capable of, and I would recommend them to any other Catholic struggling with that question (and I believe it’s a question we’re all obligated to struggle with at least a little).

I’ll let you know when I have something worked out.  In the meantime, paz.

Veganism As A Lenten Fast, Part 2

A Coptic depiction of the last supper. Courtesy of The Coptic Orthodox Church Network: http://www.copticchurch.net/cgibin/gallery/index.php?currDir=./Feasts&pageType=imageℑ=last_supper.jpg

(This is Part 2 of a two part series on veganism and Lent.  In Part 1, I explained why I choose to go vegan for Lent and what fasting from animal products means to me, personally, as a Christian.  In Part 2, I look at the long history of vegan Lenten fasts among members of the Christian Community.)

Almost everyone is familiar with the Catholic tradition of abstaining from meat on Fridays, but many Christians in the United States aren’t aware of the proud tradition of vegan fasting among members of the Christian community.

An Ethiopian icon of Jesus.

The Coptic Church is one of the oldest Christian Communities in the world, and is particularly known today for the importance that it places on fasting.  Coptic Christians generally fast 210 days a year (!), and during these fasting periods they abstain from alcohol, meat, dairy and sexual activity.  Not surprisingly, Lent is included as one of their many seasons of fasting.

Even outside of the Coptic Church, African Christians have a strong history of fasting.  The Orthodox Church traditionally keeps vegan for Lent, and most Ethiopian Orthodox Christians observe the fast.  (One reason why you can always find such amazing vegan food at Ethiopian restaurants!)

My favorite vegan fasting tradition comes from Russia, where

St. Basil's in Moscow is possibly the most well-known Orthodox Cathedral.

Orthodox Christians break their fast on Easter Sunday by eating a sweet cheesecake called Pashka, which literally means ‘Easter’.  I know that I’ve been craving cheesecake pretty intensely this Lent, and it’s nice to know that my fellow Christians in Russia have also shared in this experience.

While these churches are extremely diverse culturally, they share a common belief that I’ve always admired about the Orthodox churches, and that is that our bodies and our souls aren’t separate, but are intertwined.  Outer observances like fasting (kept within healthy limits) can be used as a way to create inner reflectiveness and peace.  The Coptic Orthodox Church Network explains the reason for fasting in this way:

Fasting is not considered a physical exercise, but rather it is an offering of inward love offered by the heart as well as the body.

As they point out, ancient Christians had a strong history of fasting that over time has diminished as many of our cultures have gotten more individualist and materialistic.  Personally, I appreciate the increased self-control and reflectiveness that I gain from my vegan fast, and I gain strength thinking about my sisters and brothers around the world who participate similar forms of fasting, as well.

That being said, I can’t wait to eat that Pashka!

To learn more about Christian vegan fasting traditions:

• Read Jim Wallis’ article about why he chose to observe a Daniel Fast for Lent.
• Check out the Coptic Orthodox Church Network’s resource on Coptic fasting.
• Read more about fasting in the Orthodox tradition here
• Finally, check out this fascinating article about how Catholics abstaining from meat on Fridays might improve the US’s carbon footprint.

Veganism As A Lenten Fast, Part 1

(This is Part 1 of a two part series on veganism and Lent.  In Part 1, I explain why I choose to go vegan for Lent and what fasting from animal products means to me, personally, as a Christian.  In Part 2, I look at the long history of vegan Lenten fasts among members of the Christian Community.)

As a Catholic, I take Lent seriously.  Lent is a time for me to reflect on and atone for my sins.  As a pacifist, that means acknowledging the ways that I am still contributing to a violent society.

I believe that eating justly is key to living peacefully.  Reflecting on my eating practices is a practical, personal and meaningful way to reflect on systems of violence in my daily life.  Who profits (or doesn’t profit) from the money I spend at the grocery store?  How far does my food have to travel to get to my plate?  What’s the environmental impact of the farm or factory that produced my food?  Finally, what animals were hurt or killed for my meal?  As a vegetarian, I normally abstain from meat as a way to lower my environmental footprint and as a daily reminder of my commitment to nonviolence and respect for all life, but my eating habits are very far from perfect.

That’s why, for the last four years, I’ve gone vegan for Lent.  Being vegan during Lent is an opportunity to atone for the fact that I still contribute to an unjust food culture, and a chance to repair the relationship between my food and the earth.  Of course, veganism can’t address all of the issues that go into food justice (local eating, worker justice, etc.), but I find that changing my diet so radically makes me more aware of other problems in my eating habits.  For instance, I’ve started eating less processed foods since I first began my vegan fast.

Lent is a time to atone for our sins.  One of my favorite priests used to say (and I believe) that the one true sin is failure to love.  If that’s the case, our Lenten fasts should be an opportunity to reflect on the ways that we’ve hurt our brothers and sisters, the earth and ourselves.  I think there can be something very self-absorbed about seeing Lent as a personal opportunity to wallow in self-loathing and repentance.  Lent should be an opportunity to acknowledge our place in the community of God’s family and apologize for having forgotten to love the rest of creation.  That’s why I think Lenten fasts and observances are so great when done with a social justice bent.

So, as you celebrate Lent, I invite you to observe the season by taking some small action to work towards more peaceful and just structures.  Some awesome Lenten observances that I’ve heard about from friends this year include: committing to give a dollar to a panhandler whenever asked, eating unprocessed foods and committing to focus more on anti-racism work on a daily basis.  Whatever you decide to do (or not do) for Lent, I wish you a joyous season of reflection!

For more ideas about how to celebrate a socially conscious Lent, check out:

• Catholics In Alliance‘s awesome Go Green for Lent campaign.
• Greater Washington Interfaith Power & Light‘s Lenten Carbon Fast
• Veg 4 Lent

As well as these Lenten Devotionals:

• Sojourners and The Poverty Initiative‘s The Triumphal Entry and the Poor People’s Campaign Mule Train
• Pax Christi‘s Lenten Reflections

Ash Wednesday

Today is the first Ash Wednesday in years that I didn’t make it to church.  I broke my heel while sledding last week and still don’t feel brave enough to venture out into the snow with crutches, so I stayed home.  Because I’m bedridden and feel mildly entitled at the moment, I also didn’t fast today (though I did resume my annual tradition of going vegan for Lent).  I missed it more than I would have expected: the ashes, the hunger, the rare experience of having what is usually an inner observance made visible.

In many ways, today has been a very ordinary day.  I got up, ate breakfast, spent time with Alex, showered.  However, like every day since I broke my heel, these daily rituals have been done slowly, with more intentionality.

Today was the first time I took a shower since I got my cast on Monday and I was amazed by how long it took.   The last week has made me so incredibly aware of how miraculous my body is, and how lucky I am to have had it work so well for the last 27 years.  Every time I use my crutches, I’m amazed by my strong arms, by how steady my one good leg is.

Today I ate three wonderful meals prepared by two wonderful people who just care about me enough to make sure I don’t go hungry.  I checked in with housemates, enjoyed a visit from a wonderful friend and was amazed by how much Alex must love me to be willing to run up and down the stairs dozens of times before heading to work, just to make sure I have everything I need.

In this simple Ash Wednesday, I mourned that I ever go through a day without awareness of how amazing a nice long shower is, how fantastic warm sunshine feels on my face, and how blessed I am to live with other people.  And I committed to be better next year.

Blessed sister, holy mother, spirit of the fountain, spirit of the

garden,

Suffer us not to mock ourselves with falsehood

Teach us to care and not to care

Teach us to sit still

Even among these rocks,

Our peace in His will

And even among these rocks

Sister, mother

And spirit of the river, spirit of the sea,

Suffer me not to be separated

And let my cry come unto Thee.

-from Ash Wednesday, by T.S. Eliot

Happy Fat Tuesday!

Today is the day before the start of Lent, celebrated by many as an opportunity to partake in life’s frivolity and excess before entering into the fasting season that leads up to Easter.  Most people in the United States are probably familiar with Fat Tuesday (or in French, Mardi Gras) through the fabulous festivals that take place in New Orleans every year.  Rio de Janeiro, Brazil; Nice, France and Goa, India are also known for having Fat Tuesday festivals full of music, drink, dancing and costumes.  My favorite Fat Tuesday celebration comes from the UK, where they celebrate Pancake Tuesday by overeating on pancakes, butter and sugar for a whole day before beginning the fast.  Almost any country with a large population of Christians that observe Lent (Catholics, Orthodox, Anglicans, and an increasing number of Protestants) has some sort of celebration to commemorate this day.

I’ve always felt that Fat Tuesday gets a bit of a bad rap.  Like any good Catholic, I love Lent.  I love the silence, the statues covered in purple cloth, the marathon liturgies and (yes) I even love fasting.  I love the way that these little rituals of self denial make me aware of everything that I have to be thankful for.  I love finding God in those quiet moments.

But it’s unhealthy to believe that we can find God in one extreme (self denial) and not the other (merriment).  I like to think of God quietly walking my fast with me, present in the stillness of that season.  But what sort of God do we have if she can’t also be found listening to jazz, drinking a bourbon and watching a good parade?  Yes, Fat Tuesday needs to be celebrated responsibly, but I’d argue that fasting can be just as dangerous (and self-indulgent) as drinking if done to excess.  So, let’s dance with God in New Orleans, watch her strut her stuff in a drag show in Rio, or stuff her silly with pancakes in Derry.  Then, we can fast with God for forty days until we come back to the middle, renewed by these seasons of celebration and penance.