She'alahn, Volume One

“ARE THESE JUST MORE 'ANGRY FEMINIST' LETTERS?" Des Moines, Iowa 12/85 Hey, does anyone have any idea what I can say to my friend who said, "Uck! No! Not more angry feminist letters!"??? I tried to share some of my Book of Woman with her, but I knew there was no use arguing with her. She’s one of those, once she’s set down on a rock, won’t move until the flood waters rise—and maybe not even then. And don’t try to persuade her, because, if you say it’s white, she’s likely to say it’s black, just to be ornery. I did finally get her to listen to one of the funny letters, but she still won’t read. Acts as if she’ll catch cooties or feminism if she touches them herself. So—I’m open to suggestions. Write me back if you can, please. Me, personally, I don’t think that this is just a bunch of angry stuff—my collection isn’t anyway. I mean, these are hopeful pages—at least they are for me. They give me strength. They give me good ideas. I think they’re supposed to help women—to help everyone, not just to make people mad. But, come to think’ve it, there is anger here. I mean, how couldn’t there be? You’ve got a right to be riled up when you’ve been misled, misused, and abused. Sure. But I think all that anger’s supposed to get us round to doing something constructive. I explained to my friend that, sure, there was some anger—the kind that is intended to make you want to share a story and the kind that is designed to kick you in the butt to fix something. One kind’s in the letters, the other kind’s supposed to be in you after you read them. Then there is a third kind of anger—way more scary, and that’s the anger of those creepy people who hear these ideas and want to stop them, crush them, destroy the ideas and destroy the people who believe in ‘em. Well, think about it. ‘Course, we’re gonna make certain kinds of other people angry, writing stuff like this—just like the Emancipation Proclamation or Carry Nation. The big guys, the fat cats, the people who are comfortable with things just the way they are, the dudes who are on top because they climbed up there on the backs of folks like us, people like that’ll hate all this. Some of us’ll probably be yelled at, spit on, threatened—even jailed, maybe. That stuff isn’t new. That’s not our anger in action—that’s their fear. But, if we stay steadfast and true, our miracle’ll happen, anyway. Even my friend wants that. I left a couple letters with her and I really hope she’ll take a chance and started reading them. It’ll change her. So, spicy sisters, please keep writing. Keep changing the world. Keep on working miracles through the Life Force. Love ya all! ‘Lea’ Mags S. ‘Sovran’ ****** ************** *********** Loaves and Fishes ... Women Are The Miracle August 17, 1934 Muskegon, Michigan Dear Sisters, I've been reading women's writings again lately. Hard to find sometimes, but always there. I came home tonight from a Revival in the remotest tent location we have ever visited and practically laughed myself silly over suddenly understanding the Bible story of the Loaves and Fishes. Laughing because the men who preach about it (and a lot of the women including myself until today) think it's a story about the miraculous magic of Jesus, when it's really a story about the strength and foresight of women. You remember the story from the Bible (Matthew 14:13 21). It ends with, “ And they all ate and were satisfied. And they took up twelve baskets full of the broken pieces left over. And those who ate were about five thousand men, besides women and children." I’d always heard that story as, "God can multiply food, if everyone's faith is strong enough." I'm not saying that couldn’t happen, but I expect Jesus was wise enough to know that sort of miracle wasn't needed right then. I expect He knew what I saw today: "Women would come prepared." Here's what I think really happened way back then: There was a lot of local gossip about this new preacher and his miracles and his righteous adherence to strict Judaism. Then, there was his very unusual friend, John the Baptist. Herod had put John in prison. When Herod cut off John the Baptist's head to please the pretty daughter of Herodius, his lover, these stories were very colorful, very interesting. Amidst the gossip were speculations, both kindly and doubtful, regarding Jesus' reaction to this dire news. Then Jesus disappeared for a few days, rowed away in a boat, sailed off, and no one could spot him. People became even more curious. They went to the shore where he'd gotten the boat to wait for him, to find out what he was thinking, what he would do when he returned. They knew that John the Baptist was important to him. John had baptized Jesus. John was his teacher. Now John was dead, cut down by a wicked man for wicked reasons. How would Jesus react? Would his behavior end his time as the possible Messiah? Or would he take everyone to new levels of spirituality? Would he still have the power to restore sight to my left eye? to cure my husband’s arthritis? to heal my sick child? This was all worth knowing, worth walking a few miles and waiting a few days of an otherwise dreary existence to find out. So, the poor of many towns, large and small, packed up and went out to wait by the water for Jesus. They went prepared to wait as long as necessary for his return. That is to say that the women did. …The desert can kill people. They all knew this. No one with any sense went out into the desert unprepared. The women would have filled a large flask of fluid (probably wine mixed with water). They’d’ve brought bread, and a little dried something: fruit, meat, fish, maybe hard cheese. Durable, healthy, common foods. The women would have stuck into their bundles some blankets to provide shade during the day, warmth at night, cushioning as they sat and waited. The women (mothers, wives, daughters) would have carried all this. That was the way of the time. So, thousands of them went and waited at the shore for Jesus to return. The whole group was strangely quiet as they saw his boat approach. Strangely quiet in a way groups of people rarely are without a threat of reprisal. Quiet in anticipation of a simple, good thing. Hopefully, peacefully quiet. The strange man with the bachelor friends came ashore, spoke some simple truths to the people, and healed those among them who were sick. It got late. The disciples wanted to send the people home to buy food, but Jesus said, "No, you give them something to eat." The disciples said they didn't have enough food to feed such a large crowd. Jesus, probably being unexpectedly savvy about women, asked everyone to sit down. He blessed the little food the disciples had and gave it to the disciples to share with all the other folks. They did share it, and everyone ate supper. That is to say that every woman took out the food she had brought and shared it with those near her, and they did the same. This was the ritual, always has been the ritual at gatherings, way back to the first campfires. When the meal was done, the disciples picked up more bread scraps than the amount of bread they had started out with, and they were astonished. Apparently, they had not often been on the clean up committee at revival meetings. They thought it was a miracle. Men teach this as a miracle of Jesus. Women who can see the truth know that it was a miracle—of women—and also just an ordinary women's story that most men and women have misunderstood. But Jesus must have understood. He would have known what would happen…because of the women. Love and peace in the Life Force, She’a-lahn. Mary "Lea" Finch