Tag Archive: questions


In practice and in theory, feminist theology has always sought to give space for women’s stories.  Sometimes that has been an act of self-authorising and at other times, an act of retrieval, drawing from forgotten or ignored stories of the past. To take up and hear these stories is also a way of moving forward. Stories are, as we know, powerful. And as such, our stories are complicated: they change over time, have ethical implications, are put to work in making meaning and shaping desire. Put simply, we are caretakers of the stories we tell as well as those we forget. Our 2023 conference, co-hosted by WATAC Inc. (Women and the Australian Church) and the Australian Collaborators in Feminist Theologies (ACFT), will explore the ways in which we engage our caretaking role and the ongoing place of stories and narrative within feminist theology. 

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When the Bible became king: Sermons, Stories and Silence

Tending to the stories shared with the Royal Commission into Institutional Responses to Child Sexual Abuse requires a willingness to examine even our most embedded faith practices, including the dominance of the clerical model of leadership within the western church. Its worst form, clericalism – the veneration of those holding positions of church leadership – has consistently demonstrated causal significance in the risk of abuses within religious institutions and congregations. Clericalism generates institutional hierarchies of power and influence that in turn protect the structural and systemic status quo thus maintaining the authority and status of the institution. 

The beating heart of clericalism in the western church is the sermon. The single voice, articulate and educated, offering instruction and exhortation to the community. A practice, with its roots in the rhetoric traditions of the Greek and Roman empires, that has been a key feature of protestant liturgy since the European Reformation. The significance of the sermon is demonstrated by the fact that preaching has become one of the key indicators of leadership. Being ‘qualified to preach’ now shorthand within debates over who is authorised to hold ministry roles.

The Ignatian spiritual practice of communal discernment offers an alternative to traditional from the front, education focused discipleship. This paper will explore the use of silence, story, curiosity and creativity in theological and exegetical tasks. It will argue that these practices honour the knowledge, wisdom and capacity for discernment present within communities of faith and counter the spiritual passivity and learned helplessness that clericalism fosters. 

Stacey Wilson is a qualitative research consultant with The Recollective. Her role also includes resource development, training and mentoring. This paper builds on her work, Theology and Abuse: Vulnerability in the Midst of Religious Institutions, published in Children’s Ministry and the Spiritual Child (Robin Turner and Trevecca Okholm, editors. Abilene Christian University Press, 2023). 

An early settler name for Footscray was Cut Paw Paw a transliteration from the Yalukit-willam tribes’ Koort boork boork meaning: A clump of She-Oaks.

Image description: Harakeke (flax) seeds have been used to symbolise my footsteps as a migrant arriving on Country to contextualise myself as ngamatiji (a non-indigenous person)

Tena koutou katoa
Ko Ngai Tahu te iwi, me Ingarangi me Kōtirana te whakapaparanga mai
Ko Takitimu te waka
Ko Takitimu nga maunga
Ko Aparima te awa
Ko Te Whanga nui a Tara te whenua tupu
Engari, ko whenua o Wurundjeri Woiworrung o nga tangata Kulin te kāinga
Ko Talitha au
Tena Tatou katoa

That is my mihi in Maori that acknowledges the Maori/English heritage of my mothers line and my fathers’ Scottish side.

I’m naming the mountains and rivers of the bottom of the South Island, this story follows the pathway of water from the high ground in the mountains down to the sea, recognising this catchment as ancestors and acknowledging the ancestors of these lands and myself as a visitor here in Wurundjeri country.

I am manuhiri (a guest), ngamatiji (a non-indigenous person) and it’s important to me to start from a place of recognising it’s not my land or language…

The Maori word for land (whenua) is also the word for placenta.

In both Maori and Wurundjeri Woiworrung deep memory stories – soil was taken and shaped in the figure of a person and divine breath gave earth life in a new form. We are shaped from earth, we are shaped by earth.

With funding made possible by Maribyrnong Arts and Culture, I was able to spend August/Sept undertaking a project called ‘Language Lines’.

A particular passion that has arisen from reading Healing Haunted Histories: A settler discipleship of decolonization is to connect more intentionally with my own neighbourhood as a Ngai Tahu/Pakeha settler on the lands of the peoples of the Kulin Nation. A resident of Footscray, I was delighted to discover that the Maribyrnong River’s name comes from the Aboriginal term ‘Mirrang bamurn’, which translates as ‘see’ a ‘ringtail possum’ at a time when we had some living in our roof. What other words are in the local landscape that might connect residents more deeply with place?

 I am interested in mapping Aboriginal terms that continue to hold space in the land. What do they have to tell us about where we live? Are there words that have been erased that might be recovered? In Maori lore, there is an idea of the ‘hidden face’, this is similar to the way that you cannot see ‘wind’ but can see its influence. What might this exploration into the landscape reveal about what is already at work?

It was a continuous thread of my residency to keep updating a map of those places in my neighbourhood that I saw possums and koort boort boort – this allowed for a practice of quite intentional “presence” in my neighbourhood across the weeks. The central image above was submitted as an entry to the 2022 Picturing Footscray Photo Exhibition named: ‘Koort Boort Boort consultation’ for the conversation happening here between the trees that are local to this place and the new development going up along the riverside. The haunting mist makes it seem as if it is the new development that is disappearing and temporary rather than the trees.

The experience of these 6 weeks allowed for me to explore and play with new skills in eco-printing, pyrography, photography and different forms of weaving. So much of what I thought I’d do, and have to show for this experience, were confounded (and rightly so) by being open to where the investigation led me instead.

There’s a lot of stories to that journey, but let me frame them here within this invitation to advocacy…

My exploration of place names in Melbourne as part of my recent art residency helped me understand that there are layers of harmful naming in our landscape: there are names of early settler colonisers and “conquorers”, there are names of deceased Aboriginal people which shouldn’t be spoken, and then there are words like Maroondah. Maroondah means ‘throwing’ and/or ‘leaves’ in Woiwurrung language.

This image shows some of those small pieces of language for place that remain in the landscape around us to learn from once other names are removed. An opaque sheet of acetate sits over the map covering those names beneath which are now ‘ghosted over’.

I just signed this petition advocating for the new Maroondah hospital not to be named after Queen Elizabeth II as Dan Andrews is suggesting. What Dan Andrews is missing here, as Victoria (ahem, we’ve already recognised a Queen) negotiates Treaty, is an opportunity to partner with local elders to reclaim language for a new naming. What words might mean ‘healing place’? We as Settlers need to progress on this stuff and not replicate and repeat harms of the past. The link is here if you want to sign the petition.

I would not have learned so much without support and resources from Maribyrnong Arts and Culture, the Footscray, Sunshine, and Braybrook libraries, the Footscray Historical Society, the Living Museum of the West and, most significantly, elder Aunty Faye Muir who encouraged me to wake up at 5am to Listen.

The desire in the woven pieces is to represent cultural exchange of welcome between the Welcome to Country, during which gum leaves are burned, and a Maori powhiri (welcome) where an elder speaking in the ceremony might wear a pataka around their waist as a skirt or across their shoulders. There was learning over this residency, that to deeply connect with the culture where I am, I will need to deeply connect with the culture where I am from. In both Maori and Wurundjeri Woiworrung deep memory stories – soil was taken and shaped in the figure of a person and divine breath gave earth life in a new form. We are shaped from earth, we are shaped by earth. When I am grounded by where my placenta is buried, know my mihi… when my introduction is from a deep memory story, not a colonising story, we are starting from a place of shared understanding and Welcome.

I have struggled to get into Lent this year.

My current forethoughts are around these queries… in my hemisphere (southern), it is summer/autumn and there is abundance, harvesting, preserving… it doesn’t seem like a time of year that makes much sense to give things up. I think that part of ‘giving up’ for Lent was that people died because there wasn’t enough food to get through the winter. They had to food ration to make it through. I like the idea that feasting on Sundays was someone bringing out a faithfully reserved jam, or stewing their last apples. The community survived the winter because they worked together. Spring brings relief of the austerity measures. Because of this, Lent has made more sense to me when I took something up (rather than personally giving something up) because it connected me with others.

With over a 100 days of the last year spent in lockdown, I think we’ve given up on plenty: a 5km radius, a curfew, only so many visitors or none. What do the learnings of our season and context in this moment have to say to our rhythms of church?

In the Eastern Kulin seasonal calendar March is Iuk Eel Season. Hot winds cease and temperatures cool. The days and night are of equal length – rather than austerity, what if we heard a call to balance? If you’re anything like me, areas of: exercise, food, drinking, social connection, and work became unbalanced during COVID and boundaries between home and work, and work and rest, have blurred. How might they be redefined?

The Iuk (eels) are fat and ready to harvest as they make their way downstream to spawn at sea. On the way they change from the dark pigmentation of freshwater eels and become silver. What if some of those things that have felt ‘lost’, like access to our creative outputs have actually been maturing during this time? What procreative energy is in you, seeking to move, to be fulfilled in its purpose and becoming? What brightness emerges from your season of darkness? What does it look like to make space for this procreation through Lent?

The Binap (Manna Gum) is flowering, and the hot summer air dries it’s sugary white sap (manna) and this a good treat to eat – what have you looked forward to all this time? How sweet is it after the wait?

My second thought is that Jesus knew the road he was walking, and what was at the end of it. He walked it anyway. When we commit to choose to do something difficult, we know there’s going to be times that’s hard. When we follow our commitment maybe, in a small way, this is an act of solidarity with the path/choice Jesus walked and offers insight to his sacrifice. So, when you live on the 7th floor and give up stairs, if you’ve left your bus ticket up there then you’re going to be tempted to take the lift. When faced with a choice between as easy and a difficult path – what do we choose to walk?

I think all of us know of relationships that broke up during lockdown. People decided to move – regionally, interstate, “home”. People changed jobs. In the crucible of limitation people had to make choices about what was most important. Decisions about what was necessary to flourish in scarcity. These decisions weren’t made lightly or easily, sometimes they were forced by circumstances outside of our control. The choice when there were no other options to choose from. Hard choices. Choices that cost us something. National Close the Gap Day and Harmony Day fall at this time of year… we reflect on the long road so far and the hard road to walk yet, what choice can we make but to keep walking? On the flip side, lockdown gave effect to many restrictions we thought couldn’t be done in the face of climate change – is the hard road that, despite our freedom, we continue to live within our restrictions of travel, working from home and shopping within 5kms?

Easter falls in April this year, when morning mists begin and nights become longer, we move into Waring Season. Wombats emerge from their burrows becoming active. Migrating birds arrive from Tasmania and male bulen-bulen (lyrebirds) display their mounds, tail feathers, and songs to attract a mate.

We know where we have been. Where are you planning on going?

What expectations did we have of ourselves over the last year that we did not meet? Of others that they could not meet? As you emerge from the burrow and become more active, how do we show the best of what we have to offer to each other again? We need to forgive ourselves and each other for what we have done and all we have left undone. Let’s have Good Friday and grieve, acknowledge what we have lost, but let’s also have the resurrection of Easter Sunday. What does it look like to celebrate that the season of loss and grief might be over? What about making a commitment to have friends or family to your house? To share and hear the stories of what the last year has been? To share you hopes for the future. To share a hug.

The community survived the winter because they worked together. Spring brings relief of the austerity measures.

A Paschal moon rises.

This morning at BKI we had a memorial service to remember everyone in the community who has passed on (remembering our elders).

Gloria and Ross Kinsler were mentors and friends of Ched and Elaine’s for more than 30 years. As Presbyterian mission co-workers in Central America they promoted popular theological education and organized Sanctuary solidarity. Since
2014 BCM has honored their legacy in our Kinsler Institutes. Ross went home to God in December; Gloria lives with dementia at a skilled nursing facility in Pasadena, CA. We give thanks for their faithful work and witness.
Rev. Murphy Davis, co-founder of The Open Door Community in Atlanta, GA, worked for decades in prison justice and homeless advocacy. She passed in October 2020 after a 25 year battle with cancer, chronicled in her memoir Surely Goodness and Mercy (2020).

A table is covered with a purple cloth for an altar, though we’re square cubes we are in a circle – we reach out (in zoom, participants are encouraged to hold their hands up as if to make contact with those to either side of them in gallery view). On this morning we have a memorial for Ross Kinsler and Murphy Davis… we light two candles and have flowers for Gloria, for all those ‘gone to glory’ to ‘join the cloud of witnesses’. The table is set. Invite people at the table to share stories… we hear remembrances from people who know these elders well as a litany of names rolls down the chat.

Love is a harsh and dreadful thing. It requires us to give and receive.

– Mother Theresa

We are a living memory – activists, disciples, Holy Fools, followers of freedom pathways, the ways of the water keepers, the inspiration of artists and poets… they do not die, they multiply.

I share this link to the Murphy Davis campaign…”Let’s Get Well”. I think it is a beautiful thing to rally for encouragement and healing – to lift each other up. As someone who had rallied, and rallied and rallied where this has felt like a fight, I love the idea of rallying to encourage and affirm one another…

https://www.centerforracialhealing.org/

Rose Marie Berger – Bending the Arch

In answer to Seamus Heaney’s Station Island and Pablo Neruda’s The Heights of Machu Picchu, Berger unmasks the worldview of westward expansion from architect Eero Saarinen’s arch in St. Louis to the Golden Gate in a way that subtly and mystically taps the unconsciousness of the intended audience. When she writes “We never entered the West on bended knee,” the impurity of language used in this epic creates tension between discourses and creates a charge or pressure on each sentence that pushes the reader toward declaring an allegiance. Drawing on historical documents, the Latin Mass, and multivalent voices, Berger moves through the anguish of unintended consequences and leads the reader through the “ghost dance” of feeling to the powerful Pacific Ocean, which enters human consciousness like a dream. Entangled historical memory, climate crisis, and inverse expansionism compress into a spiritual reckoning to face the world to come. (January 2019). Book available here…

We bury his heart, but not his love, never his love.

Rose Berger, Bending the Arch

“Incarnational Engagement with Restorative Solidarity in and between Red, Black and Brown Communities” by Alison McCrary

Alison McCrary is a tribal citizen of the Ani-Yun-Wiya United Cherokee Nation, a social justice lawyer, Catholic activist, restorative justice practitioner and a sought-after speaker on social justice, spirituality and liberation.

“Accountability IS love. We only speak truth to those we love”

– Alison McCrary

Look at the work of ephemeral artist Ted Lyddon Hatten: http://www.tedlyddonhatten.com/#/coffee-grounds/

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There are symbols: a compass, an hourglass, entangled trees, an uncaged canary…
-is there a balm in this thickness of loss?
– can our scars point the way through
– what story will take us to firmer ground?
– whose silence will we hear finally?
“Our community lost things we didn’t know we could lose.”

Going to a sales page and creating a post to ask if there is an item instead of searching for the answer youself is like asking the person of colour you know what BIPOC stands for instead of googling it.

When you hear that white people need to ‘do our own work’ this is what we’re talking about. Especially don’t use questions as a way of doing the following:

  • trying to prove you are woke or engaged in issues of colour
  • trying to identify with/befriend that person so you can someone who says, ‘I have black friends’ or wants to name drop association to your own benefit
  • trying to befriend that person because you want or need something from them

For further reading please check out Clemenger Melbourne’s site: Deadly Questions for other commonly asked questions from ‘Why don’t Aboriginal people just get over it?’ to ‘What the most important things I can teach my child about the land and indigenous culture?’

Looked for the answer today. Didn’t find it. The pav went wrong. The problem wasn’t solved. The result didn’t come. The waiting is oppressive. I go outside and am re-membered. I remember to breathe. Don’t forget to breathe. #answer #whakautu

Lent word: Heard

#heard #rangona

Lent word: Seek

Yesterdays word was seek… Sharing this one from a bushfire fundraising gig at the Forum over the weekend hosted by Neil Gaiman and Amanda Palmer. Something in these lyrics seeks justice. We sang for justice. We asked questions of the dark – of our fear and yearning. What do you seek? #seek #rapu

Icon at Dwell, Ascot Vale

Narrative Theology #1: lyrics

Today’s word is Teacher, Kaiwhakaako, the title given to Jesus in the gospels. I think I spend more time unlearning than learning these days this great poem by Padraig O Tuama speaks to this, you can hear him read some of it here.

And I said to him
Are there answers to all of this?
And he said
The answer is in a story
and the story is being told.

And I said
But there is so much pain
And she answered plainly
Pain will happen.

Then I said
Will I ever find meaning?
And they said
You will find meaning
Where you give meaning.

The answer is in story
And the story isn’t finished.

The question is not where but now
there question’s never finished
or exhausted
and the answers in the asking
not the answer
the answer’s in the breathing of the question
in the love of holding onto
what was never whispered never seen
but what we dreamed of in the morning
then forgot while venus hid

the answer’s in the living not the knowing
the answer’s in the telling of the story
in half forgotten memory
and all unfinished stories

the answer’s in the showing time of senses
the answer’s in the question
in the learning
in the fading page of writing
in the letter sent to lovers
in the paying for the other
the answer is the generous

is the truthing

the absolutely truthful anger

and forgiving is the giving of what you don’t deserve
it’s what I’ll serve because you’re hungry
even though you may not know it

the answer’s in the living and the dying
in the trying for redemption on an empty hill of crosses
it’s the shoring up of hope and the gathering of losses
it’s the looking for companions in the hills and in the glens
it’s the waking up and walking up and starting up again
the answer’s in the living
and the trying.

And I said to the wise man,
what is the answer to all this
And he said the answer’s in the story
and the story’s just unfolding. 

credits

from hymns to swear by, released March 17, 2010all rights reserved

A modified version of this poem can be found in ‘Readings from the Book of Exile’ (Canterbury Press, 2013)

Lent word: Command

Tell the stones to become bread? Nah, I will ask that Mountain. It is witness. It will know. #command #kīia