Monica A. Coleman

by Monica A. Coleman
from Patheos.com

Interreligious understanding and peace begins in intimate ways: through education, by music, in our homes, with our welcome mats.

How can we have peace in the Middle East
When there’s none at home?

These are the opening lines to one of my favorite songs by jazz vocalist Rachelle Ferrell. The capstone to her self-titled 1992 album, “Peace on Earth,” speaks before and beyond the time of its recording.

I first began using this song in faith communities in the late 1990s when I coordinated a church response to sexual violence. Surprising the congregation with the inclusion of a “secular” song, the ministry asked about how we dare pose questions of global magnitude when we have so much work to do at home. This was not meant as a commentary on current politics. It was designed to raise the issue of intimate violence.

To my left a woman abuses her children
To my right somebody’s beating his wife

As someone who has spent the last fifteen years speaking out against sexual and domestic violence, I can attest to one thing: most of our violence happens at home—quietly, under long-sleeved t-shirts, with lowered eyelids, in shameful fists, between pursed lips and tearing eyes. Most violence in the United States is not the picture of global terrorism; rather, it is the faded photo of our personal relationships.

I hear Ferrell’s lyrics again in new tones at the ten-year anniversary of September 11. I hear it as a reminder that working for peace must begin in our houses and in our communities.

At the 40^th anniversary of the Newport Jazz Festival, Ferrell lingers over one line of the song that seems particularly relevant now:

Where is the love?
Where is the God in your life?

She asks again and again: where is the God, where is the God, where is the God in your life?

As I suspected in my work with sexual violence, our answer to this question must begin as close as our own relationships. In their popular book, The Faith Club: A Muslim, a Christian and a Jew—Three Women Search for Meaning, Ranya Idliby, Suzanne Oliver and Priscilla Warner come together as mothers in the New York area trying to figure out how to talk to their children about the aftermath of September 11. As a religious scholar, I am simultaneously disheartened and encouraged by the story they tell. I am disappointed by how little each one knows of her own religion as she wrestles with her assumptions about the religion of others. I am forced to remember that this is probably where most Americans are. But I am inspired by how—in conversation and friendship with each other—these women become more rooted and more deeply faithful in their own traditions. They are able to do this inasmuch as they learn from and love someone who believes quite differently from them.

Their post-9/11 peace literally began in their homes, over cups of hot chocolate.

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The Journal of Inter-Religious Dialogue presents its

Call for Submissions for Issue 9: Women, Feminism, and Inter-Religious Dialogue

Women have played pivotal roles in transforming communities and conflicts, upending theories and traditions, and building bridges of understanding where others have thought it impossible. Given the dynamic landscape of female involvement in numerous aspects of inter-religious activities and dialogue, we at The Journal of Inter-Religious Dialogue will be devoting an entire issue to the exploration of inter-religious work as informed by women’s perspectives and feminist theory more broadly. We invite articles that engage in rigorous reflection on the intricate and often behind-the-scenes partnerships between women and inter-religious endeavors at large.

It is our hope that this special issue will contribute to and stimulate the inclusion of this increasingly utilized approach to the study of inter-religious dialogue and theory. We especially welcome and encourage investigation of the following topics:

• How do women already operating within particular traditions or communities incorporate their own perspectives into inter-religious activities?

• How might current trends in feminist theory shape discourse on religious pluralism or plurality? Do these theories have the potential to transform inter-religious thinking or activities?

• To date, has inter-religious work failed to include women’s voices? If so, how might this have influenced outcomes, and how can things be different henceforth? Critiques of particular trends or authors are especially welcome.

• How have some women within particular religious groups or communities engaged in interfaith work in a way that differs from or even breaks with broader traditions (either their own or the mainstream)?

• How have local female authority figures and social justice leaders engaged or partnered with religious organizations to promote dialogue and transformation?

• How have women operated outside of established norms for dialogue promotion and conflict resolution?

• What roles have female religious leaders played in various traditions? What movements are underway to expand these roles in a manner that allows for (or is even inspired by) increased interfaith engagement?

• How has feminist work collaborated with or rallied against concrete religious activities as well as theological discourses?

by Michael Vicente Perez
from Huffington Post

With the anniversary of 9/11 fast approaching and the awareness that terrorism is still a real threat for the United States, we should consider what we might do differently to make our country a safer place.

Looking back on the last 10 years, one thing is clear: the violence of terrorism cannot be defeated with more violence. Afghanistan and Iraq are convincing proof of that; both countries remain ravaged by terrorism and al Qaeda forces seem much more resilient than the architect of the war on terror, George W. Bush, ever imagined.

We also know that counter-terrorism measures at home have produced mixed results. On one hand, the government has prevented several domestic attacks through various intelligence operations. On the other hand, the government has also failed to stop would-be terrorists including the Christmas bomber and the Times Square bomber. In both cases, it was the terrorists who failed, not the government that succeeded.

Faced with such realities, what other ways can we think of to address the problem of extremism, if not in the world, then at least at home?

Given the limitations of conventional approaches, I think we might do well to think unconventionally and take a radical untaken step: recruit Muslim women.

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Join New Tactics and the International Fellowship of Reconciliation’s Women Peacemakers Program (IFOR/WPP) for an online dialogue on the topic of “Faith-based peacebuilding: The need for a gender perspective”, from October 19 to October 25, 2011.

The role of religion in conflict and peacebuilding, the rise of religious fundamentalism, and the threat this poses for women’s human rights are issues receiving increasing attention. IFOR/WPP and its partners have been exploring the link between gender, religion and (inter)faith-based peacebuilding, including the positive role religion can play in promoting peacebuilding, and human and women’s rights.

What are some of the major obstacles in relation to gender equality posed by religion? How are women’s rights specifically affected in this regard? Which strategies are used by women activists to overcome those obstacles (best practices)?  Which positive dimensions do religion and spirituality bring to women’s lives? What specific obstacles and advances in terms of the Women, Peace and Security (WPS) Resolutions can be found in faith-based peacebuilding contexts and initiatives?

This dialogue is an opportunity for those involved in faith-based and interfaith-based peacebuilding and gender work, as well as those interested in it, to discuss these questions and share experiences.

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Niqab wearer explains why she will continue to wear a veil despite the new ban in France

from the Guardian

Anne [not her real name], 32, is French and lives in a village south of the Burgundy town of Mâcon. A mother of four, she converted to Islam at 18 and has worn the niqab for five years

I’ve got a pregnancy scan on Friday. My doctor supports me wearing the niqab, but I’m not sure I’ll be allowed into the hospital. I could wear a medical facemask, bird-flu style. Other women have told me they’ll wear them to get round the ban and to keep their faces covered in state offices.

My husband, whose parents are Algerian, is afraid for me, but I won’t take the niqab off. I won’t change. That would be to renounce my values. I’m French, I was educated to believe in liberté, égalité, fraternité. My grandfather was an army officer on the beaches of Dunkirk and was imprisoned in Germany during the war. He always taught me: “If there’s an injustice in life, you can’t stay silent.”

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Global Room for Women is a global community of women who dialogue, listen, discover and engage together. In our program, you decide what is right for you.  You choose your own experience.

In a warm and inviting space of live teleconferences, you will come to know women personally from around the world — mostly remarkable women from developing countries.  We begin each call by listening to one woman’s story. Our featured guests live in Afghanistan, Nicaragua, South Africa, and beyond.

But that’s only half the story. You are invited to share your own voice, talk with our global guest, and have your own conversations with other amazing women in the audience from around North America. If you like, come and just listen!

by Queen Rania of Jordan
From the Huffington Post

Her face has been kissed by Time. Every crease and line around her eyes records a moment in her life, like the delicate rings in a tree trunk. Etched into her beautiful brown skin, more than one of these proud wrinkles symbolizes the many hardships she has endured over the years. Alone, her seven grown children (one for each day of the week) visit to keep her company and seek her counsel. With what little she has, she still gives what she can: wisdom, compassion, and a modest meal. She is Um Fawaz, from a small village in northern Jordan.

Up in the mountains, several towns over and a generation apart, lives Shifa’a. She sold her only piece of jewelry, her wedding ring, so her husband could go to university and become a teacher, so in turn he could provide their children with a better life. But she didn’t stop there. Shifa’a tapped into her entrepreneurial spirit, applied for a loan, and opened the first mini-market in her town. “I don’t regret the hard work or selling my gold ring,” she says, glancing at her hand. “What matters is today our family stands stronger.”

For me, both these women represent the best of International Women’s Day (IWD). Over the course of a century, IWD has inspired women to break barriers and redefine roles. But the eighth day of March has always been about more than giving women equal rights. It has also been a story of women giving back.

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Janaan Hashim

by Janaan Hashim

I have a new-found respect for Muslim women who look nothing like me, but share the common thread of faith. The media has painted them in a negative, oppressed manner; one in which they must be “freed” by the West. These women are completely covered in a black abayah, similar to a burqa but with a much better cut and design, with a veil allowing only their eyes to give me a visual identity of them and wearing black gloves and socks. For the past five days, I’ve watched these women achieve an incredible feat that would make any “pro-women” group proud.

It is the peak of the pilgrimage season for Muslims, and most pilgrims stop by Medinah to visit the city of their Prophet Muhammed. In terms of numbers, an expected 6 million Muslims will be in the neighborhood, and with a large percentage of these pilgrims stopping by Medinah to pray in the Prophet’s Mosque to which his home was atached and where he was buried. As such, it’s not hard to imagine how many people want to visit the place where they can give their salutations to the Prophet and pray where he led his followers. There is a special area between the Prophet’s home and his pulpit where it is believed that praying on that ground is as though one is praying in the Heavens, and thus, it is a highly sought after locale in the mosque.

What does this mean for women since, as in all mosques, there is generally a separation of the genders? First, it means that the women of Medinah become the female security and organizers. With incredible patience, positive attitude mixed with humor, they marshal in hundreds of thousands of women each day, all from hundreds of countries and with just as many different cultural norms.

They have an order to bringing in the female worshipers, grouping them generally by language. People speaking English, like Americans, Australians, British, Canadians, are grouped together on a rectangular Persian carpet; next to them would be women from Africa; next to them women from Western Asia and Russia and so forth. They are told to sit and to wait while a group ahead of them, again seated, receive a short talk on the history of the mosque, its religious significance, and the importance of maintaining patience and a level of dignity when going to the special area. Once the group that is in the special area leaves, the group receiving the talk moves in, and then the group that was sitting advances and receives the talk.

This is a great system, except not everyone can understand it or has patience with it. The women who are there are from every walk of life with levels of education that span the spectrum. Thus, if someone doesn’t “get it,” trouble can arise.

Despite their efforts in explaining the procedure and calling for calm and patience, for some reason, there tend to be a few people who just don’t get it.  They become impatient, act upon it, and decide to move forward on their own. What happens is that others follow. The female security do everything they can to prevent this from happening, but if the numbers are too great, since each group can be several hundred, they have to acquiesce and wait for the next group to come in. On one of my visits, I was at the front of the line sitting with the first group when this happened.

Being the person I am, following instructions to the letter, I remained seated as two or three women stepped around me and disregarded the security. Within seconds there were more women following suit and, all of a sudden, these strong hands grabbed my forearms that were protecting my head and pulled me up. It was one of the female security persons, who gave me the look that nothing was going to happen to any of the visitors on her watch. Realizing the danger I was in after she pulled me up and as hoards of women passed by me, I was incredibly grateful and wanted to hug her for her quick thinking and actions. Before I knew it, though, she was back to work, getting the masses to sit again and wait their turn.

In the second grouping, an incredible trance overcame the several hundred women. Our leader at this point stood at the base of one of the pillars and in a story-like tone, began her talk in English. I looked behind and no one was fidgeting, no one trying to leave the group and lurch forward, inadvertently creating havoc. Then she repeated the talk in fluent French, and again, no one moved. When it was our turn to visit the prime space, everyone rushed and I noticed the security standing on the pillars, overlooking the crowd, guiding people toward the exit, ensuring their safety. They helped clear the way for the elderly, they respectfully removed people who wanted to remain so as to make room for others; they essentially kept the order.

The space we were in was tiny, and the managing of thousands of people from all over the world was impressive. No men were around – they weren’t needed. These women were in control: efficient, patient, and professional. In the way they carried themselves and executed such a massive feat – and doing this everyday – to me, what they wore means nothing. If you put a business suit on them, you’d think they were CEOs; if you put a uniform on them, you’d think they were officers. Bottom line, they were sharp women doing their job in a manner that makes this sister proud.

Janaan Hashim is a member of the Council’s Board of Trustees and the host for Radio Islam.

From CNN

It’s a busy Sunday morning in August for Gabriella Velardi Ward in her modest home in the New York City borough of Staten Island.

Velardi Ward lights candles, gingerly lays out prayer sheets and looks at herself in the mirror, mindfully putting on her white robe and vestments.

A short woman with a behemoth sense of spiritual self, Velardi Ward also attends to earthly matters.

While she makes sure the table is full of healthy vegetarian dips and finger foods, umbrella-carrying worshipers trickle through the door before the heavens unload. She hugs new arrivals who take seats in a rough circle in the humble but welcoming suburban living room.

To any stranger, this would be a scene to behold: a demonstration of belief, perhaps similar in passion to 1960s war protests whose organizers loved their country but felt deep pain over some of its most troublesome acts.

Velardi Ward leads this sing-a-long and prayer-filled sit-in of devotion and rebellion on behalf of God, his creatures great and small and her half of humankind.

She says this is a Catholic Mass.

She says she is the priest.

“I was five when I told my sister that I wanted to be a priest and she laughed at me and said, ‘You can’t, you’re a girl.”‘

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