Blog Posts
At Axia Women we count ourselves fortunate to have seminarians in our midst! Sometimes we ask them to use their knowledge to take us deeper into what we encoubter in church every day. Here's Tanya Penkrat delving into a word we hear regularly and often, illustrated by a photo of another seminary graduate receiving a blessing of her own at a recent service in the Malankara church.
For Thanksgiving, we wanted to remind our readers that there are always ways to actively pray for the homeless and hungry. These ideas will work whether your church community is flourishing with many ministries or struggling to support even one.
Many years ago, when my children were little, I read to them a book which started me on my mission to feed the poor. It was a lovely story called “Papa Panov’s Special Day,” an adaptation of a Leo Tolstoy short story, based on Matthew 25: 31-40. Those verses touched me deeply and have been my motivation ever since to help the poor and hungry whenever I can.
Our home is a place of family love, drama, joys and tears; a place where we can gather to celebrate, mourn, dream and support each other. It can be orderly or chaotic, restful or filled with music, dancing, singing, laughter, shouting or tears all the vicissitudes of life. It is our shelter and refuge.
We are delighted to announce that we have a new logo, which we unveiled at a recent board meeting. We hope you soon see it everywhere. This is what it means to us:
When I was an art student back in the early 1980s, in my naivete I was surprised to suddenly find myself disillusioned with the rising tide of post-modernism. Many of the ideas and aesthetics floating around my college campus seemed fragmented, soulless, empty, and left me feeling bewildered. Surely school was meant be a laboratory of sorts where experimentation is welcomed and new forms and expressions can flourish. But I felt an inner crisis of calling, where my sensibilities and yearning to be an artist were at odds with the prevailing trends.
She looked up at me with bewildered, lost blue eyes. All I could do was stare back at her, dumbfounded. It was 7 AM in NYC’s Penn Station and I was watching an older woman drag herself on her knees around a trash can, barefoot, with sores climbing up her feet.
When I moved to NYC, what struck my heart the most was seeing the rich and the poor share the same seats on the subway. I could not--and still struggle to reconcile--walking past people on the street in need every day.
I have always seen icons of Mary, the Mother of God, holding the baby Jesus when I enter a church. But becoming a mother myself and bringing my children to various churches has changed the way I experience the icon. It made me wonder how the Theotokos and Jesus be received in those churches. (Sure, baby Jesus and Mary would have gone to a temple, but is your place of worship warm and welcoming to a mother like her with children?) Would she have a place to lay Jesus' head down? Would she have a place to change his diaper? Would there be a place to nurse baby Jesus? Would you glare at the Theotokos if baby Jesus cries or makes noise? Is your church clean enough that baby Jesus could crawl on the floor?