How many ways are there

  of being a Catholic woman?


Let me count the ways...


daughter, mother, wife, grandmother, auntie,

married, divorced, widowed, nun,

unable to have a child,

straight, bisexual, lesbian, transgender,

traditional, feminist, faithful dissident,

daily communicant, returning Catholic,

recovering Catholic, agnostic, atheist,

seeking the Feminine Divine, theologian, lay minister,

contemplative, athlete, handicapped, convict,

alcoholic, recovering alcoholic, drug-addict,

prostitute, beggar, homeless, abuser, abused,

homemaker, caretaker, student, volunteer, on welfare,

blue-collar worker, white-collar worker,

executive, banker, unemployed,

self-employed, market vendor,

working part-time, working two jobs,

doctor, journalist, engineer, scientist, mathematician,

soldier, firefighter, pilot, police officer,

farmer,  artisan, artist, ballet dancer,

teacher, retired,

fund-raiser, entrepreneur, millionaire,

conservative, liberal, green, leftist, Republican, Democrat,

pro-Life, pro-Choice, pro-war, peace activist,

black, brown, yellow or white,

powerless or empowered,none of the above.

Whoever you are...



And Welcome!



Before moving to the next page,

see the Madeleva Manifesto,

the message that fills me with hope & courage.



Check also the Vow of Nonviolence






The Ravensbruck Prayer


O Godde,

remember not only the men and women of good will

but also those of evil will.

And in remembering the suffering

they inflicted upon us,

honor the fruits we have borne

thanks to this suffering

— our comradeship, our humility,

our compassion, our courage,

our generosity, the greatness of heart

that has grown out of all this;

and when they come to the judgement,

let all the fruits that we have borne,

be their forgiveness.


Anonymous




I Want New Saints


I want new saints

   saints with birch-tree souls

      whose leaves turn color and fall

         whose cruel winters freeze their

             naked branches.


I want saints with sunrise eyes

   whose Springs awaken sweat-sweet fertility.

      musk lusty,

         played out on sodden sheets,

            whose golden Summers bake

               their bodies brown.


I want angry saints

   with molten wills

      who squeeze their carbon hearts

           in rage and

               bring forth diamonds,

                  weary saints,

                     torn by countless beatings.


Saints who make

   extravagant mistakes

      and laugh,

         certain that, more than perfection,

            Godde desires truth.


Mary A Bowen

WomenPsalms, 78





A Psalm for Everywoman


Choir 1    Who will retrieve our stories

                from the world of the unremembered?


Choir 2    Who will believe we were who we are

                and did all the things we do?


Choir 1     I have seen women breaking bread

                and taking the cup of salvation.


Choir 2    I have heard women preaching the word

                and teaching theology.


Choir 1    I have met women in mission abroad,

                restructuring church and society.


Choir 2    I have met women here at home

                doing much the same.


Choir 1    I have sung songs that women have written,

                but seldom in church on Sunday.


Choir 2    I have even prayed to my Mother God,

                but not in the sacred rites.


Choir 1    Where are the books to record the deeds

                of the prophets of the present.


Choir 2    Where are the ones who will keep and preserve

                the truth of women’s ways?


Choir 1    Who will take the time we have taken

                to find the lost lives of our sisters?


Choir 2    Who will seek us and find us?

                Who will remember our names?


Miriam Therese Winter,

WomanWord, 266



 

Tell Them


Breaking through the powers of darkness

bursting from the stifling tomb

he slipped into the graveyard garden

to smell the blossomed air.


Tell them, Mary, Jesus said,

that I have journeyed far

into the darkest deeps I’ve been

in nights without a star.


Tell them, Mary, Jesus said,

that fear will flee my light

that though the ground will tremble

and despair will stalk the earth

I hold them firmly by the hand

through terror to new birth.


Tell them, Mary, Jesus said,

the globe and all that’s made

is clasped to God’s great bosom

they must not be afraid

for though they fall an die, he said,

and the black earth wrap them tight

they will know the warmth

of God’s healing hands

in the early morning light.


Tell them, Mary, Jesus said,

smelling the blossomed air,

tell my people to rise with me

to heal the Earth’s despair.


Edwina Gateley,

A Warm Moisty Salty God, 54

Etty Hillesum

Simone Weil

Dorothy Day

Hildegard of Bingen

Clare of Assisi

Teresa of Avila

Mary of Magdala