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Old Stories Make the New Ones Stronger

Nov 3, 2020 | My sort-of Sermons, Sacred Stories

I listened to Brene Brown’s latest podcast – a conversation with Elizabeth Lesser, co-founder of the Omega Institute and author of Cassandra Speaks: When Women are the Storytellers, the Human Story Changes. 

I’ll admit, it was hard for me to hear their lovely conversation, given that the one in my head was constantly drowning them out: “Yes! That’s what I’ve been saying! Exactly! Thank you! You’re right!” If I’m being completely honest, I also need to admit that I was irritated. In some ways, Lesser has written the book that I’ve been talking about forever!  

I got over it pretty quickly because more than all else, I was flooded with gratitude. Wise and amazing women talking about the ways in which the ancient stories of women have been maligned throughout time because of the way that men have told them – and the ways in which those tellings still impact us today. That’s the most blissful conversation ever for me! 

Don’t misunderstand me: I’m not mad at men. I can hold the big picture, the larger cultural history, all of that. As Lesser names, the time has long passed in which that lens, exclusively, should be the one through which we view ourselves.

  • Blamed for the downfall of all humanity, too full of desire, too curious, too dangerous. 
  • Filled with centuries of shame. 
  • Convinced that we are not enough and worrying that we’re far too much. 

Enough!

Lesser says this:

Whether we know it or not, whether we have read them or not, whether we believe them or don’t, our daily lives take direction from stories that are hundreds, even thousands of years old…Once metabolized, the old stories are hard to shake from the mind of an individual or the hierarchy of a family or the guiding principles of a country. 

Mmm hmm. (Maybe she’s watched my TEDx talk?)

I downloaded Cassandra Speaks to my Kindle as soon as the podcast finished. I’ve finished Part One – she looks at Eve, Pandora, and Cassandra as the formative stories/myths that have created the mess we find ourselves in today. Parts Two and Three follow, so I don’t want to presume I know the direction she will yet take.

I’m clear on the direction I’ve taken – over and over again in my own life and on behalf of others.

For me, it’s not enough to name the ways in which patriarchal tellings of these archetypal stories have impacted us. Nor am I willing to do away with them completely. What I want, what I’m committed to, and what I do – over and over again – is go back to them, dust them off, breathe life into them, and let them speak. I reimagine how they’d be told when she is the protagonist, when it’s her voice we hear, when it’s her wisdom from which we learn…and are transformed.

Did I mention? Bliss!

When I was contemplating whether or not I had the courage to end my marriage, I was overwhelmed with all the internal and external messages that told me why that was a mistake and why I needed to work harder, try again, keep at it, stay committed. I was working with a Spiritual Director then who asked me to think about the story of Hagar. (If you aren’t familiar with it, here’s the Cliff Notes version: her suffering made mine look like a minor irritation.) She said, “What do you think Hagar has to say to you, Ronna? How might she see what you’re going through? What perspective does she long to offer you?” I opened up a blank document on my computer and answered every one of these questions. I wrote and wrote and wrote – as I wept. I could hear Hagar’s voice, crying out from the desert. I imagined exactly what she wanted me to know, what she hoped I’d hold on to, how she hoped I’d rise up, stay strong, and step forward…because that’s what she did. 

That process became a rhythm and ritual for me that I combined with ongoing academic work and research connected to my M.Div. and study of Feminist Theology. Before long, I’d written missives to myself from countless women – buried away in this ancient text. A bit later, I started writing them for others. And now, almost 15 years later, I still hear their voices whisper (and sometimes shout).  

They tell us what we’ve forgotten, but need to recall – and believe. They remind us that our story is NOT to be theirs – silenced, forgotten, or harmed. And they somehow, mysteriously, in the most sacred and secreted of ways, stay with us…when we look for them, when we seek them, when we ask for their presence, their wisdom, their generous kindness.

More bliss, to be sure!

I could go on and on. But that’s not actually what this post is about. (Hard to tell, I know.)

The reason I’m writing any of this today is because of Elizabeth Lesser and Brene Brown, because of a smart conversation between two women about realities that effect and impact us all – based on ancient stories of women that influence us still, whether we know it or not. 

The reason I write any of what I do, retell and reimagine any of these women’s stories is because I want them to influence us. Their voices deserve to be imagined and heard; their wisdom deserves to be honored. Yes, for them. But also for us, because along the way, our stories get retold and redeemed, our voices get heard, and our wisdom is honored. 

And when that happens? Everything changes…

I don’t know about you, but I’m up for everything changing.

May it be so! 

Listen to the podcast.
Read the book.
Subscribe to my blog.
Get a Reading. It provides you the perfect guidance and generous support you need to (finally) embrace the powerful and provocative story that is yours. I promise.

Bliss. All of it. 

More, please!

Militancy + Hope + Desire

Oct 15, 2020 | Hope & Encouragement, My sort-of Sermons, Sacred Stories, Women's Voice & Power

(A Sunday Sermon, of sorts – even though it’s not a Sunday…)

To refuse to participate in the shaping of our future is to give it up…Each of us must find our work and do it. Militancy no longer means guns at high noon, if it ever did. It means actively working for change, sometimes in the absence of any surety that change is coming. (Audre Lorde, Sister Outsider)

Mmmmm. This is relevant, yes?

It is far too easy – and tempting – to not be militant; to let minutes, hours, and days pass with a wish and a prayer that things will get better. But to intentionally choose to shape our future? Militancy, indeed, is required. 

Militancy PLUS every bit of the courage, strength, heart, wisdom, passion, and tenacity we possess. 

Here’s the good news: we have every bit of these things in endless supply! It’s what, and who, we are at core as women. (Don’t let anyone – especially yourself – tell you otherwise!)

And because we possess all of this and then some, there is hope.

Hope for change.
Hope for justice.
Hope, period.

I’ve had acquaintances over the years who have critiqued me for holding on to hope – as if it’s somehow too whispy and whimsical, not practical enough. I completely disagree. Clinging to hope is what turns our eyes and heart toward what can be, what must be, and everything that we desire. And desire? Don’t get me started…

Well, ok, just this: if I know anything it is that a woman’s desire has the capacity to change the trajectory of the entire human race! It’s that powerful. You are.

So pursue desire (no matter who you upset along the way).

Choose hope (and defy anything that would influence you otherwise).

And be militant (on behalf of the change, the future, the world we long for and deserve).

 

Practically speaking, in the very near term, this means voting, advocating, speaking out, showing up, and doing everything in our immense-and-unstoppable power to actively work for change, yes, “sometimes in the absence of any surety that change is coming.”

And just because: one more worth-repeating quote of Audre Lorde:

When I dare to be powerful, to use my strength in the service of my vision, then it becomes less and less important whether I am afraid.

May it be so.

A story about (in)visibility

Oct 1, 2018 | Hope & Encouragement, Sacred Stories, Sovereignty

Women: you are not unseen, unheard, or invisible! Ever!

Do you ever feel as though you (and other women) are unseen, unheard, invisible? As though your story doesn’t have all that much signi cance in the larger scheme of things?

Don’t believe it! Nothing could be further from the truth!

Your story is more than signi cant, more than profound, and more than critical to the larger, gorgeous, amazing drama that’s being woven and written around you. And your place, your voice, your role, your heart is right in the middle of it! I promise!

Want an example?

Not surprisingly, I’ve got one.

There is an ancient, sacred story told of a nameless woman. We know nothing about her other than what we can deduce: she was a daughter, a wife, and a mother. These alone, in my opinion, are more than enough to give her stature, merit, and value. Sparse details hardly limit the depth or scope of her significance. She lived a story that couldn’t help but change the world. Just like yours.

After Adam and Eve left the Garden they had two sons – Cain and Abel; later, a third. One day, in a fit of jealous rage, Cain killed his younger brother. (Makes eating that fruit seem relatively mild, doesn’t it?) His punishment was to wander the earth – a nomad, no home, no family. In fear for his ability to survive, he pleaded with the Divine to protect him; to somehow keep him from being killed by those who would seek his death. And so he was given a distinguishing mark that would forever protect him. And of course, this is where we get the phrase, “the mark of Cain.”

Later in the text we read that Cain settled in the land of Nod, east of Eden. Then this, Cain made love to his wife, and she became pregnant and gave birth to Enoch. (Genesis 4:17)

That’s it. Her only mention.

Now some would say such is not even worth the bother – for a blog post or a book chapter, let alone an attempt to offer some level of meaning to those who feel their stories are small, inconsequential, almost nonexistent.

Don’t believe it! Nothing could be further from the truth!

“…there are stories we will never find, no matter how many times we search the sacred texts. I think it was Marcia Falk who wrote, ‘What we cannot remember, we must imagine.’ And so we read between the lines, listening beneath the layers of suppression and neglect to hear the chorus of voices where we were told there was only silence.” ~ Jan Richardson, In Wisdom’s Path

In between the lines and listening between the layers. Expecting to hear a heartbeat of significance, meaning, and worth.

Imagining what we deeply, intuitively, and already/always know to be true: women’s stories matter. Just like yours.

Whether myth or historical fact matters not. Her story is true. Cain’s wife sings out the continuation of countless generations: hundreds of thousands of women who are unnamed but no less real; without position, but no less powerful; barely spoken of, but hardly silent; harmed, but deserving of healing, wholeness, and strength. Cain’s wife symbolizes every single page of life and death, hope and despair, triumph and tragedy that is being written, even if seemingly unseen and unheard. Cain’s wife signifies that women endure, period. Just like you.

And if this weren’t enough (though I believe it is), Cain’s wife is the first woman mentioned outside the Garden. Eve’s daughter-in-law. The wife of a marked-man. The bearer of Adam and Eve’s grandson. A mother who heard her husband’s stories and told them to her son. One who enabled generations to follow.

She lived a significant story. She is a significant woman. Just like you. Just like all women.

So if there are days or even seasons in which you feel as though your story is not worth mentioning, barely seen, a whisper that’s hardly heard in a noisy world, take heart! Cain’s wife stands alongside you in solidarity and strength. She reminds you that every story matters and that every woman’s ability to nurture, labor, grieve, laugh, cry, persevere, live, love, and bring forth life in any and every form is what enables the far larger story to even exist, let alone be told, endure, and thrive.

You are part of a legacy of a women who endure, who make a difference, who matter.

To ever think, let alone believe anything less is a lie. Cain’s wife calls you, me, all of us back to the truth. Hear her voice:

I see you. I hear you. I know your name. I love your story. You matter. You endure. You live. This alone is more than enough. You are more than enough. Take heart: you are my daughter, my lineage, my kin.

Fanning Desire’s Flame

Apr 9, 2018 | My sort-of Sermons, Sacred Stories, Spirituality

Desire is a tricky thing.

  • To desire feels dangerous because we might not get what we want.
  • To desire is risky because, when expressed, is too much for the people in our world.
  • To desire reveals the dulled desires of those in our midst.
  • To desire means that we see ourselves of worth.
  • To desire calls us to foresee a future that is better than what we have now.
  • To desire requires that we actually believe we are deserving of that which we seek, even demand.

Some even say:

  • To desire is entitled or arrogant.
  • To desire is privileged or elitist.
  • To desire is assumptive and arrogant.
  • To desire is to be ungrateful for all that we have; to somehow be demanding of even more.

I completely disagree.

The biggest risk is not our desire itself, but that we do not desire enough!

We are far too easily pleased. We somehow believe that our desires will never come to be, anyway. And so, we choose to believe that we’re better off hedging our bets, playing it safe, and toning things down.

I completely disagree. Did I mention that?

Here’s the thing: the heart, when listened to and trusted, will have none of this! Nor should you.

One of the many ancient, sacred stories I so love tells of a woman’s desire. And surprise! It’s not Eve (though hers does, of course – in beautiful and to-be-trusted ways).

This woman was so determined in the expression and sustenance of her longing, that a priest saw her praying and was convinced she was drunk. He reprimanded and shamed her. But she was not to be stopped. In fact, just the opposite: she boldly and blatantly persisted. She held on. And ultimately? Well, ultimately, finally, her desire was fulfilled.

Instead of desire’s diffculty slowing or stopping her, it grew in power and force until she could not, would not be denied.

[A brief intermission: Lest you think I am saying that if you just desire enough, your every desire will be met, think again. (That would be a lovely formula, wouldn’t it?) What I am saying is this: Her desire remained intact without its fulfillment. And it is THIS to which she calls us.]

It is to this that she calls you. Longing even more instead of letting go. Persevering instead of settling. Fanning desire’s flame instead of dousing it. Holding on no matter what.

Desire for desire’s sake is what matters most.

Listen to her voice (as I imagine it). She speaks on your behalf:

Oh, the beauty of your desire! The stronger and fiercer and more tightly held, heaven rejoices and earth stands still in reverential awe. Know this: the object of your desire is not as important as having and holding on to desire in the first place. Desire for desire’s sake is what matters most. The act and art of desiring causes your body temperature to rise, your pulse to quicken, your heart to beat, your life-force to surge, your voice to swell, and your very presence to make a visceral, unmistakable and impossible-to-ignore mark on this world. Believe me, I know all about this. I am Hannah, and YOU are my daughter, my lineage, my kin.

I know all-too-well the temptation to tone down my desire. But that has not served me – ever. Nor does it you. Hannah’s story reminds us that perseverance makes a difference, that faith matters, that hope must endure, and that desire – whether fulfilled or not – is a force to be reckoned with. Desire is what makes us – you and me – a force to be reckoned with.

So go ahead: want more, pray more, long for more, desire more. Less is, well, just less. And that is not to be your fate.

*****

[A version of this post appeared in April of 2016. When I came across it, I realized I do not feel any differently – for myself or in regards to what I desire for you.]

Sacred Conversation with Your Heart – #6

Apr 29, 2017 | My sort-of Sermons, Sacred Stories, Spirituality, Women's Voice & Power, Women's Wisdom, Writing

Today concludes this 6-part series on (Sacred) Conversation with your Heart. I am hopeful, though, that it is just the beginning of so much more of the same!!! 

If you’re just tuning in today, I’d encourage you to read the first 5 posts: Introductions, Tentative Listening, Hearing Deeper Truths, Speaking Deeper Truths, and Loving the Dialogue. 

And now, today, the big finish: 

PART SIX – HEART CONVERSATION AS SACRED CONVERSATION 

For me, this intimate and honest dialogue with my heart is synonymous with the Sacred. There is nothing disparate between the two. They are one-in-the-same. That know-that-I know-that-I-know voice within is the voice of the Divine. 

I’m hearing the Divine speak to me. Not in a burning-bush sort-of way, or miraculous thunder-clap or shout from on high. Rather, a constant, generous, and trustworthy source of wisdom, love, and life. And this knowing, this awareness, this experience IS what enables me to speak (and live) out loud.

Sadly, our religious traditions have been filled with both language and praxis that too-often have kept us silent. We can go back to the earliest tellings of the earliest stories and see how this silencing has been perpetuated, how it has become part-and-parcel with our deepest and most intrinsic belief about ourselves – particularly as women. Beginning with Eve, we’ve been told that her curiosity, her voice, her conversation with and trusting of her own heart is what led to the downfall of all creation. I COMPLETELY disagree. (Watch my TEDx Talk to hear more of my VERY strong opinions about this.) 

Keeping our hearts (and very selves) silent is painful. It twists us into ways of being that are unnatural, unhealthy, and ultimately, not even remotely reflective of the Divine that dwells within. 

When we raise our voices, speak our hearts, and shout our truths, the S/sacred is seen and experienced. 

This matters! Your voice matters. Your truth matters. Your conversations with your heart matter! Potentially more than anything else. For this IS the sacred – made manifest in and through you. Beautiful. Powerful. True. Yes. 

And so it is. 

REFLECT 

Jan Richardson, one of my all time favorite writers has a poem called Having Taken the Fruit. Here are the last two verses: 

It took a long time to gure out / that my stiing silence / was not a path / back to a paradise / where I could never live. 

I finally learned to listen / to the hissing in my breath / that told me the roots / of my own soul / held the healing that I sought / and that each stilted syllable / I let loose / was another leaf / on the tree of life. 

  • Have you ever considered your inner dialogue, your conversation with your heart, as conversation with the Divine? As Sacred conversation? What does that prompt for you? 
  • Where have you known aspects of silence/being silenced in the context of religion or faith? How has your heart shut down when that’s occurred? 
  • What if the loosening of your tongue, of your throat, of your voice is the redemption of Eve’s story in the here-and-now? Can you see how it IS the redemption of YOUR story here and now?
  • The voice of your heart is the Sacred in and of itself. Will you believe this? What might change if you did, if you could? 

I am hopeful these six posts have been helpful, encouraging, and have offered specic ways in which you can step even more deeply into conversation with your heart. Did I mention that it really matters? 

Know that the process and practice of having heart-conversations is ongoing. It takes time to learn to listen and then respond to that steady beating, those internal messages that will guide you into places of strength, courage, passion, and life. And, as you might have guessed, I am beyond-passionate about such; about heart-conversations: yours, my own, and ours together. 

I promise: your heart will not lead you astray. Listening and responding to it is the safest, surest, sanest thing you can do. It can be trusted. As can you. It is good, beautiful, and strong. As are you.