The Bible and the Land by Daphne Levey

I have been reading books lately about the theology of indigenous cultures.  I have read about Native American, African and Australian indigenous theology.  They have some beliefs in common.  One of the most important ones is the belief that everything is sacred.  All creation is sacred.  Earth and everything on it is sacred.  An important corollary is the belief in reciprocity, living in a communal way not only with a human community but also a community of all parts of the natural world surrounding the human community.  I imagine a part of the universality of this theology stems from these groups of people having lived in the same place for long periods of time.  They claim the land as the land claims them.  I wrote in my earlier blog about how Europeans who came to the Americas became displaced peoples who left their ancestral lands and committed themselves to a very exploitative relationship with the lands of the American continents.  It seemed their theology gave them consent.  They believed God commanded them to “improve” the land and extract the resources at whatever cost.

I began to wonder:  is there any kind of love-of-land theology in the Bible, in Christianity, however hidden?  What does it say about us light-skinned people that we so easily desecrate and pollute not only the land on which we live but everywhere else we can?  It seems we, as Christians, don’t have much regard for such a theology.  It turns out there is a theology of loving the land in the Bible.  It is hidden in plain sight in the Hebrew Scriptures.  It is easy to see why our ancestors didn’t want to know about it because of what it says.  The gist of the theology is contained in the story of Naboth on the one hand, and Ahab and Jezebel on the other.  1 Kings 21:1-14.  According to the terms of the covenant with God, the Israelites were given the land, the Promised Land, by God.  In return, the Israelites were required to stay true to the covenant to live a Torah-filled life.  The ancestral inheritance of Naboth was a vineyard he cultivated as he followed Torah.  To him, the land was inviolable as his inheritance from God.  Ahab and Jezebel had another view.  To them, land was a commodity that could be bought and sold, under their control as sovereigns.  Not a sacred gift from God.  They approached Naboth and offered to buy his vineyard.  It was in a desirable place to enhance the realm of Ahab as king.  Naboth refused to sell his land because he didn’t believe he could and remain faithful to God and the Torah.  After some scheming, Ahab and Jezebel killed Naboth and took the land.  The story highlights two different ways of looking at land.  Either it is a sacred inheritance subject to reciprocal obligations or it is a commodity.  This passage approves of the first way and condemns the second.  Jezebel, in particular, is condemned in the Bible because she isn’t even subject to the covenant, being a foreigner.

Naboth’s way mirrors the indigenous way of looking at the sacredness of land.  Native Americans were forced to cede their lands to the Europeans in the same manner as Ahab and Jezebel tried to force Naboth.  Uncomfortable?  Can we even imagine what our culture might look like if we no longer considered the land as something to buy and sell?  The consequence of looking at the land as a commodity is clear in the Bible:  those who disrespect the covenant will lose the land.  In the Bible, the Israelites’ land was lost because of conquest by a foreign power.  The writers of the Bible condemned the Israelites to exile because they had broken the covenant with God.  They hadn’t honored their reciprocal responsibilities to God and to the land.  

In our case, we Americans are losing the land by the land’s own devices.  Our utter disrespect for the land is leading to an Earth uninhabitable by humans.  In the Bible, it is said the land will “vomit us out.”  Lev 18: 26-28.  The land itself conspires with God to enforce the covenant in the Bible.  It is time for Christians to take seriously this sacred duty of reciprocity and respect for the land that surrounds us, before it is too late.  All land is Promised Land, given by God.

September 2023/Tishrei 5784

Wendy Stiver, Postulant Of St. Hildegard Community

Early autumn is a time of changes: the days grow shorter, the leaves begin to turn, school activities ramp up. It is also a time of harvesting, a time of reflecting on what has been, and thinking about what may come with the winter. For Jews, this is the Days of Awe: the High Holy Days of Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur. Beginning with the month of Elul on the Hebrew calendar, each person spends time in prayer, self-examination, and self-reflection which culminate with the Day of Atonement or Yom Kippur.

Rosh Hashanah celebrates the anniversary of the creation of the world, and is the Jewish New Year– we have now entered the year 5784.. Spiritually it means that we can start anew, we can make choices about what we carry forward into the new year. It is a time of inner renewal and divine atonement. This is also a time for wonderful foods including apples and honey, tzimmes, brisket, and other traditional dishes reflecting the rich cultural experiences of the Jewish people. It is also a time to attend High Holy Days services in the synagogue or shul. The shofar, made from a ram’s horn, is blown to awaken all who hear it, and to call us to return. Tshuvah (return) is one of the key themes of the High Holy Days: return to God, return to our souls, return to our best selves. We sing the “Hashiveinu”– Hashiveinu, Adonai, eilecha v’nashvah; chadeshh yameinu k’kedem.

Those of us in St. Hildegard’s Community are familiar with the English translation of the Hashiveinu: 

Return again, return again, return to the land of your soul.

Return to who you are, return to what you are, return to where you are

Born and reborn again.

(Rabbi Shlomo Carlebach)

The second theme of the High Holy Days is cheshbon hanefesh (accounting of the soul). In the words of Rabbi Richard S. Sarason, “we are challenged to reevaluate our lives in the light of what really matters: our ultimate values, our relationships to other and to God (however we understand the Divine), and our own limitations of both time and ability….We must acknowledge our imperfections, all the while striving to transcend them” (Sarason, p. xx).

We know that we have transgressed, done harm to ourselves and to others, and to our planet. We know that God has seen our best and seen our worst, and now God hears our prayers during these Days of Awe and chooses whether to ascend the holy throne of judgment or the throne of mercy. Tradition teaches us that God will look upon us with compassion if we do the work of the High Holy Days: the honest introspection we need to conduct, the apologies we need to make, the forgiveness we need to grant, the prayers we need to pray both as individuals and as Jews in community, the fasting and the chanting…the soul-stirring sounds of the shofar and the Kol Nidre. 

We are called to return, and to atone for what we have said or done that has caused brokenness and pain. We are called to remember who we are, WHOSE we are, and how God calls us to partner with the Divine in the work of tikkun olam – the repairing of the world.

As the Book of Life is closed and sealed-

Open our hearts, open our hands.

Let those who asked forgiveness and those who gave forgiveness

depart this place in peace…

Together let us build a community of commitment.

Let us be sealed this day-

sealed for goodness and sealed for life

sealed in the Book of Life and Good…

Be sealed for a year of Torah and soulful searching.

Be sealed for a year of kindness, good deeds, and love.

As the Book of Life is closed and sealed-

open our hands, open our hearts.

Mishkan Hanefesh: Machzor for the Days of Awe. Yom Kippur. 

CCAR Press, 2015/5776, p. 665.

by Daphne Levey

Uncategorized / By Virginia Marie Rincon

Daphne Levey has been a long-time member of St. Hildegard community. She shares the following reflection to create an authentic dialogue on our relationship with the land and water. You may respond to this piece through our community email; Sthildecommaustin@gmail.com

Here is the place to start, a quote by Ched Myers:  “It is impossible to overstate the depth and breadth of the social and ecological crises that have been stalking human civilization for centuries, and now arrived in the Anthropocene epoch.”  How did we get here?  To some extent, the fault can be laid at the feet of Christian theology.  We have been seeking salvation elsewhere, not on Earth.  We have been trying to rise above the “mere” material world, into the spiritual realms.  We have believed we have a commandment from God to “improve” Earth, manipulate her boundaries, extract “resources.”  Convert the inferior peoples who get in the way.  I am talking about European Christians, light-skinned people who came to the Americas to “civilize” the land, believing it was God’s will.  

Recently, we light-skinned Christian people in the US are coming to understand we may have misunderstood God’s commands.  Movements have begun in churches in the US called “creation care” that emphasize Earth as God’s own, as sacred ground.  These trends, however, tend to be very broad, trying to encompass the entire planet, Gaia and her interlocking systems.  Looking through that lens can be overwhelming.  How can we Americans really do anything about destruction of the rainforest in the Amazon?  I would like for us to discuss an alternative, something called watershed discipleship.

An eye-opening revelation, for me at least, is to understand all of us European people who came to the Americas are displaced people.  We all left our ancestral homeland for a place we were to “conquer.”  (Of course, darker-skinned people who came here were also displaced, violently and involuntarily.)  I happen to know about my ancestors who came to Jamestown in 1637, so, close to the beginning of our diaspora.  They continued to move west, eventually arriving in Arkansas.  They fought for the Confederacy.  I am even now further west, in Central Texas.  Even though my ancestors have been in the Americas for almost 400 years, there are no ancestral lands I can claim.  The question indigenous people ask is:  what land would you die for?  The idea behind watershed discipleship is for us non-indigenous people to re-place ourselves within a bioregion, a watershed, something indigenous people were born into.  It isn’t about loving the whole Earth as much as loving your place, your landscape, your watershed.  Native Americans say the landscapes of their lives claim them, give them ceremonies, stories and spiritual meaning.  As a start, I looked up the watershed in which I am located.  It is the Slaughter Creek watershed, dry most of the time until the periodic floods come to the Hill Country.  The creek bed is only two blocks from my house and I intend to begin a relationship with her, find out what ceremonies and spiritual meaning she may have for me.  To find your watershed, look at epa.gov/waterdata/surf-your-watershed.  Let us know what you think about this approach, falling in love with your particular place on Earth and learning what it might mean to lay down your life for the Land, as Jesus said about deep friendship.

Wendy Stiver, MA

29 April, 2023

While the history books are usually written by those in the center of dogmatic power, the real “stuff” of life takes place in the margins and the intersections. This truth is woven throughout the Gregorian calendar, which carries holidays with names like “Easter” that reflect how the early Christian church claimed and re-branded days of celebration that originated in the rituals of paganism. The Hebrew calendar is luni-solar, driven by the phases of the Moon and the rhythms of agricultural life; urban Jews continue to celebrate holidays that began as harvests of barley or wheat, and festivals paying honor to the “New Year of Trees” and the “New Year of tithing of cattle.”

Beltane, or May 1, is an example of such intersectionality. We will briefly explore the history of this colorful day, and how the interweaving of traditions enriches our culture in 2023.  We will begin our search in modern times, and then work our way back through sacred time to find the origins of the Beltane ritual we celebrate.

May 1, “May Day,” is a public holiday in over 50 countries throughout the world to recognize and celebrate labor. In 1886, May Day became known as International Workers’ Day for labor rights. This special day was created to honor those who died when protesting for the rights of workers, such as an 8 hour day. While Labor Day is celebrated in the United States in the month of September, May 1 is an official holiday in 66 countries. Large public festivities such as parades, marches,and rallies are common, especially in Socialist and Communist countries such as Cuba, Russia, and North Korea. May Day is also celebrated throughout Africa, Asia, Central and South America, and Europe.

The Roman Catholic Church honors Mary, the Holy Mother, during the month of May. This custom originated in the 13th century, but did not become popular until members of the Jesuit Order spread the Marian devotion practice worldwide by the 1700s. Catholic tradition includes crowning statues of Mary with flowers. While the origins of this practice are shrouded in history, it may be yet another example of intersectionality: imperial Roman culture linked the month of May to the goddess Flora, the goddess of flowers. The month of May was the official beginning of Spring, and as Christianity spread through the Roman Empire, Christians began to weave their love and adoration of the Holy Mother into the ancient traditions of celebrating life, the glories of spring, and fertility.

This takes us further back into Western European history, as we search for the origins of Beltane, the Gaelic May Day festival. Beltane is an example of Ireland’s ancient pagan past. The Irish believed in a number of gods, venerated the ancestors, and believed in a mysterious Otherworld. We continue to celebrate the four yearly festivals– Samhain, Imbolc, Beltane, and Lughnasa– into the 21st century. 

Beltane falls at the beginning of summer in Gaelic Ireland, when the cattle were driven out into their summer pastures. Rituals were performed to protect the cattle, the people, and the crops. Many rituals involved the kindling of special bonfires, believed to convey protective powers on those cattle or humans who walked around or between the bonfires, or leap over the embers or flames. Such celebrations also included feasting, decorating structures and livestock with yellow May flowers, the making of May Bushes, and of course the Maypole dance. In essence, Beltane is about fire and fertility: the Maypole represents the male energies, and the ribbons which dancers weave and wrap around the pole represent the female energies. This is a time for washing one’s face in the morning dew, a time for flowers, and rejoicing at the return of the light.

As at Samhain the veil between the worlds thins at Beltane, and the spirits or fairies are especially active. Beltane was and is a springtime festival of hope as the glories of nature awake from the long winter, and fertility is invoked through ritual practices. 

No one knows precisely when the Gaelic peoples began to celebrate the fire festival of Beltane, but it is mentioned in early Irish literature dating from the 5th century and beyond. Celebration of the festival had largely died out by the mid-20th century in Ireland, yet the growth of Neopaganism, Celtic Reconstructionism, and Wicca have encouraged renewed interest in the ancient “Wheel of the Year” and festivals. 

As we celebrate Beltane in community or on our own, we participate in rituals that have been with us for millennia. We are part of an ancient vibrant tradition being renewed in modern times.

We dance in the intersections of sacred space and time, and remember our foremothers who danced before us.

Daphne Levey has been a long-time member of St. Hildegard community. She shares the following reflection to create an authentic dialogue on our relationship with the land and water. You may respond to this piece through our community email; Sthildecommaustin@gmail.com

Here is the place to start, a quote by Ched Myers:  “It is impossible to overstate the depth and breadth of the social and ecological crises that have been stalking human civilization for centuries, and now arrived in the Anthropocene epoch.”  How did we get here?  To some extent, the fault can be laid at the feet of Christian theology.  We have been seeking salvation elsewhere, not on Earth.  We have been trying to rise above the “mere” material world, into the spiritual realms.  We have believed we have a commandment from God to “improve” Earth, manipulate her boundaries, extract “resources.”  Convert the inferior peoples who get in the way.  I am talking about European Christians, light-skinned people who came to the Americas to “civilize” the land, believing it was God’s will.  

Recently, we light-skinned Christian people in the US are coming to understand we may have misunderstood God’s commands.  Movements have begun in churches in the US called “creation care” that emphasize Earth as God’s own, as sacred ground.  These trends, however, tend to be very broad, trying to encompass the entire planet, Gaia and her interlocking systems.  Looking through that lens can be overwhelming.  How can we Americans really do anything about destruction of the rainforest in the Amazon?  I would like for us to discuss an alternative, something called watershed discipleship.

An eye-opening revelation, for me at least, is to understand all of us European people who came to the Americas are displaced people.  We all left our ancestral homeland for a place we were to “conquer.”  (Of course, darker-skinned people who came here were also displaced, violently and involuntarily.)  I happen to know about my ancestors who came to Jamestown in 1637, so, close to the beginning of our diaspora.  They continued to move west, eventually arriving in Arkansas.  They fought for the Confederacy.  I am even now further west, in Central Texas.  Even though my ancestors have been in the Americas for almost 400 years, there are no ancestral lands I can claim.  The question indigenous people ask is:  what land would you die for?  The idea behind watershed discipleship is for us non-indigenous people to re-place ourselves within a bioregion, a watershed, something indigenous people were born into.  It isn’t about loving the whole Earth as much as loving your place, your landscape, your watershed.  Native Americans say the landscapes of their lives claim them, give them ceremonies, stories and spiritual meaning.  As a start, I looked up the watershed in which I am located.  It is the Slaughter Creek watershed, dry most of the time until the periodic floods come to the Hill Country.  The creek bed is only two blocks from my house and I intend to begin a relationship with her, find out what ceremonies and spiritual meaning she may have for me.  To find your watershed, look at epa.gov/waterdata/surf-your-watershed.  Let us know what you think about this approach, falling in love with your particular place on Earth and learning what it might mean to lay down your life for the Land, as Jesus said about deep friendship.

Dear Community and friends,
Please join us for an Advent contemplative experience: “Discovering Our Advent Mandala” by the Rev. Virginia Marie Rincon.  We will gather on Zoom Wednesday, December 7th, 2022 1:00-4:00pm Central. She will share how she uses mandalas as a spiritual practice and will lead us in a meditation to create our own Advent mandala. 
See the attachment for a flyer for details and more of her beautiful mandalas.Register with Judith by email jliro@swbell.net or text 512 925-9156  and the link will be sent on Dec 7th. Suggested donation of $20. Mail to St. Hildegard’s, 4001 Speedway, Austin TX 78751.

•  A drawing compass or something to help you create a circle 
• drawing tablet 
• watercolors, crayons, markers 
• black ink pen 
• Most importantly bring an open mind and heart as we share this experience together.

Please join us as Alisa Carr leads us in our new season; The Season of Mary Magdalene Anointed and Healed. We will worship, reflect and pray into this season for five sundays in a row starting July 11th at 4:30 pm central time. You can join us two ways; online via zoom and in person. The location for in house is at Interfaith Chapel at Trinity United Methodist Church 4001 Speedway, Austin, Tx, 78751. If you have never joined us online before please send request to our email for link to join us. sthildecommaustin@gmail.com You are also welcomed to join us prior to the service at 4 pm. central for a 20 min. silent meditation.

Pauli Murray’s Feast Day in the Episcopal Church July 1

We at St. Hildegard’s have been exploring and celebrating Pauli Murray’s Contemporary Saint Day for two Sundays, and July 4 will be the second Sunday we experience together Pauli’s life struggle.
On June 27, we heard of Pauli’s childhood in North Carolina as they grew up in an apartheid world, living with and loving their grandmother who had been born into slavery. We followed their brave journey to achieve an undergraduate degree at Hunter College in New York City, and closed with a journey through Pauli’s decision to pursue a law degree in order to work for freedom for the black people who were suffering under economic hardship and Jim Crow laws.

This Sunday we will hear of Pauli’s struggle to live in a female body when they felt they were a man.

Pauli’s life has many oppressions and triumphs. The Episcopal Church was a refuge for Pauli from the time they were born. In the final chapter of Pauli’s life, while they were in Seminary, they fought within the church to make it possible for women to be ordained as priests.

On the night of September 1977 that the Episcopal Church passed the resolution allowing women to be ordained as priests, Pauli Murray received a call from a priest present at the convention who was Rector at the church in Chapel Hill, North Carolina where Pauli’s grandmother Cornelia had been baptized. He asked Pauli to come and preside at the first Holy Eucharist she would give after her ordination. Pauli writes of this experience on the last page of her book, Song in a Weary Throat, which is summarized, and quoted in part in the following:

The first Holy Eucharist at which Pauli Murray presided took place on February 13th in the bodies, hearts and minds of those present in this historic Episcopal Church which had been built by and continued to serve whites who counted slave owners and their descendants in their members. Both slave and slave owner blood was in Pauli and her grandmother Cornelia, who had been baptized in this church and allowed to attend in the balcony.

By February 13, 1978 the work of countless individuals, like Pauli, strong families, like Pauli’s and courageous religious, government and institutional officials made it possible for “a thoroughly interracial congregation” to attend this first Holy Eucharist presided by an African American woman in the Episcopal Church.

Pauli writes, “Whatever future ministry I might have as a priest, it was given to me that day to be a symbol of healing. All of the strands of my life had come together. Descendant of slave and of slave owner, I had already been called poet, lawyer, teacher and friend. Now I was empowered to minister the sacrament of One in whom there is no north or south, no black or white, no male or female —only the spirit of love and reconciliation drawing us all toward the goal of human wholeness.”

offered and composed by Professed Member Margo Stolfo