Writings, Reviews, Cultural Criticism
In 1975, feminist theologian Sheila Collins noted that it was only five years earlier that women “began to take their own experience seriously as the basis for doing theology.” By her reckoning, half the human species has had roughly thirty–six years to play catch–up with the other half in this business of theological reflection – or at least the sort of reflection that emerges without compunction to adhere to male forms.
As mentioned in my August 9th entry, I took the service at West Hill United Church on Sunday. Before the service began, something interesting happened. I had selected music that spoke to themes of beauty and prayer. The choir director approached me and said that we had to change one of the hymns.
This is not so much a book review as it is a reflection which uses a book as its point of departure. Not All Violins is written by the Barb Wire Collective, a group of women who gave themselves this name as an affectionate nod to a mentor, Barbara Elliott…
My daughter is thirteen and Sunday June 4th is the date set for her confirmation. Traditionally, confirmation is a rite of passage, a transition from youth into a full and adult participation in the life of a church community.
About 12 years ago, someone suggested that I keep a journal. Since then, and in widely different contexts, several others have made the same recommendation. At first, I didn’t know where to begin. A blank page can be daunting. Should I fill it—like a daytimer—with the trivial details of my day-to-day living? Or should I gush with the intimate cares of my heart?
On Sunday, my daughter had her first confirmation class. The minister, to his credit, asked the kids to bring along a song—whatever they happened to be listening to—so that he could get a feel for where they are in their lives. My daughter asked if I could burn “You’re Beautiful” to a CD for her.
I’m not sure that Roman Catholics would appreciate me comparing their theological ground to Mars, but Oliver Sacks’ phrase pretty much describes how I felt last Friday when I went to Regis College to listen as Professor John Dadosky presented a paper: “Towards a Fundamental RE-Interpretation of Vatican II.”
Professor Harold Wells, who teaches Systematic Theology in Toronto at Emmanuel College, has written a big book with a simple message: The Christic Center: Life-Giving and Liberating (Maryknoll: Orbis Books, 2004). In fact, the message appears clearly in the title.
I found a bible tract—more like a glossy magazine than a tract—in the mailbox and, for some inexplicable reason, I started to read it. The tract is devoted entirely to sin, which begs the question: why do its authors know so much about the subject?
Today, I celebrated my second sacrament (communion) in a progressive church, and during the service, I found more answers to questions I have posed in a previous rant about life in a progressive context.
The book has 16 chapters each devoted to a distinct social justice issue. These issues fall into two broad categories: 1) domestic concerns such as religion and public schools, abortion, and the penal system; and 2) concerns arising from the global economy such as corporate responsibility, debt relief and environmentalism.
Trying to inveigle oneself into the life of a church is a daunting undertaking. It reminds me of something I did when I was in high school. I was friends with an observant Conservative Jew, and as we were talking at lunch one day, we decided to have a bit of an interfaith exchange.
I went to the airport to pick up my in-laws from vacation, and because their flight was delayed, I went to the nearest news stand to find something to read. I couldn’t help but notice the headline for the “Sun: Found in Dead Sea Cave … Lost Book of the Bible”.
On Sunday, we went to West Hill United Church which holds itself out as a “progressive community of faith.”
Three posts ago, I concluded by pointing out the usefulness of hypertext. It is a tool which enables us in certain directions. Afterward, in a more reflective mood, it occurred to me that hypertext is both analogical, and a facilitator of analogical thinking.