Tag: Re-exists

  • La teología feminista como resistencia al clericalismo y reinvención de la Iglesia Sobre las voces y saberes de las mujeres sobrevivientes de abusosLolo Góngora | Women on the Front Lines | Santiago, Chile, 2020

    Feminist theology as resistance to clericalism and reinvention of the Church On the voices and knowledge of women survivors of abuse

    By Carlos Mendoza Álvarez

    Yesterday I participated in the brilliant doctoral thesis defense of María Soledad Del Villar Tagle, a Chilean feminist thinker and activist, for the award of her PhD in the Department of Theology of Boston College,, after six years of mentoring as a thesis director, along with three outstanding colleagues of international renown: Lisa Cahil, Margaret Guider and Nancy Pineda-Madrid.

    With this act I concluded my academic commitments with that American university, where I was fortunate to weave networks of critical thinking with some colleagues, especially doctoral students who are now professors at various universities around the world such as Laurel Potter, Valentina Nilo, Amirah Orozco and Maddie Jarrett, who represent the new voices of feminist theologies, queer, Latinx and disability, with a seal decolonial in their research.

    Sole's thesis topic, as her colleagues affectionately call her, was inherently complex because it touches on an open wound in the Roman Catholic Church: justice for women survivors of sexual abuse committed by clergy in recent decades, particularly in Chile. Unfortunately, sexual abuse by clergy—against adult women and mostly male minors—is a phenomenon spreading like a silent cancer in other local churches around the world, where civil and ecclesiastical commissions have been established, especially in France, Australia, Canada, and the United States. In Mexico, unfortunately, the strength of the patriarchal pact It persists. The systemic practice of sexual and moral abuse is frequently associated with male leadership as an instrument of power in other religions as well, forming a patriarchal system with clerical religious justification, as analyzed by Kochurani Abraham in India.

    And to make matters worse, sexual and moral abuse against women and vulnerable people has persisted for millennia in various institutions such as schools and the military, not to mention families, where men with toxic masculinity practices impose perverse forms of control over the bodies, minds, and desires of women and vulnerable people.

    Below, I share some of my reflections that I proposed yesterday to open the dialogue with Sole in her thesis defense, which, virtually bringing together people from the North and South, created a community of listening, excited to receive the harvest of a living feminist theological thought.

    It is a pleasure to welcome you to the thesis defense of María Soledad del Villar Tagle, which crowns a research of profound significance and long academic work that contributes to Latin American feminist theology and its connections in other cultural contexts.

    It is also an honor to preside as Advisor This academic act together with the admired colleagues Lisa Cahil, Margaret Guider and Nancy Pineda-Madrid, who make up the Academic Committee that has accompanied with a critical reading the thesis of María Soledad Del Villar Tagle, providing her with important elements to refine the argument, methodology and the theological implications of the thesis.

    The title of the dissertation is in itself eloquent and challenging: “The Sexual Abuse Crisis in the Chilean Catholic Church: Feminist Theological Reflections for Survivors and for a Wounded Church.” The candidate confronts us with a debt of epistemic justice This research focuses on adult women survivors of sexual abuse perpetrated by clergy in the Roman Catholic Church in Chile in recent decades. It is an interdisciplinary study that combines qualitative research methodology within the theoretical framework of contemporary feminism and trauma studies. Through both lenses, it is possible to analyze the reality of these women survivors in its multifaceted complexity, as well as to consider the implications for the process of personal and communal healing. A crucial part of the thesis argument is the implications for an ecclesiology that addresses the causes of gender-based violence in the Church and its relationship to clericalism as an ideology of patriarchal power that persists in this ancient institution.

    For my part, I want to begin this dialogue with you, Sole, by recalling three moments from your shared seven-year research process. Inspiring moments that, in my opinion, lie “behind the scenes” of your theological work.

    The first instance was our meeting in Leuven, during the 2019 Congress on Systematic Theology, where you first told me about your nascent research project. Even then, your Latin American and feminist approach was opening up to questions that extended to other contexts and subjectivities experiencing diverse forms of violence, beginning with women, but also connecting with other subjectivities such as migrants, LGBTQ+ communities, and people with disabilities. We explored this together in the undergraduate course "God, the Person, and Society," where you collaborated as a teaching assistant upon my arrival in BC during the harsh winter of 2021, in the midst of the pandemic. That thread of violence against vulnerable people remains present in the fabric of your dissertation.

    The second moment was the meeting with the Basic Ecclesial Communities (BECs) of El Salvador, to which Laurel Potter invited us. This meeting served as a moment to verify the results of her dissertation research on the ecclesiology of the BECs as a narrative theology of liberation, with its altars, memorials, and Sunday celebrations. In that colloquium, enriched by the visit to the site of Archbishop Romero's martyrdom, you emphasized your experience with the women's communities in Chile that embraced the see-think-act as part of their journey of following Jesus. Processes that connect you with your Chilean ancestors in the construction of a another world, Beyond patriarchy, like Gabriela Mistral and Violeta Parra in times of liberation, or Elizabeth Lira and the social workers of the Vicariate of Solidarity during the Chilean dictatorship. Another precious thread in your theological tapestry is this communal fabric of women's experience and their way of embodiment redemption through care practices through which they creatively confront the pedagogy of cruelty produced by the mandate of masculinity analyzed by Rita Segato.

    The third moment I want to evoke today was the festival encounter It re-exists. The Spirit crossing peripheries, held in Guadalajara, Mexico, in 2023. In particular, I want to recall here the clay workshop led by the ITESO student LGBTQ+ collective. We went guests to mold the reproductive organs with plasticine to then talk about our own relationship with our bodies. Then you were pregnant with Manuel and you molded your belly with the embryo inside using plasticine. The most surprising thing that afternoon was your dialogue with the Searching Mothers who mourn the absence of their children in Mexico. children. They connected with you powerfully, and you with them, through the presence—or absence—of their own motherhood experiences. Mutual care as sisterhood This translated into a memorable moment as an experience of bodies in resistance and re-existence. There I discover another precious thread in the loom of your thesis.

    With these reflections in mind, I would like to ask you to explain more clearly two elements of your thesis that are already mentioned in the last chapter, but which will undoubtedly be part of future research: What is the spirituality of resistance among abused women and survivors that not only empowers them but also allows them to connect with other subjectivities in resistance? What rituals of sisterhood Can they connect with other collectives in resistance as an expression of the Church as the wounded body of Christ in the process of resurrection?

    And then a rich dialogue ensued about the practices through which women survivors imagine and create another possible world: rituals of sisterhood, the reinterpretation of Christian sacramental celebrations by returning to their symbolic and ethical source, as well as the connection with ancestral spiritualities that keep alive the sacramentality of Mother Earth as a gift from Divinity, and many more practices.

    These questions remain open for future research. I have no doubt that feminist theology is still relevant today with a new generation of thinkers, proposing critical thought such as that of María Soledad Del Villar Tagle, thus contributing to building new expressions of a post-patriarchal Christianity as a fulfilled promise of life for everyone.

    At the conclusion of the defense, the Committee unanimously approved the brilliant thesis, recommending its publication in Spanish to return to the survivors and their collectives the knowledge gained, as well as some articles or monographs in English on the topics that intersect in this interdisciplinary fabric, such as feminism, trauma and the spiritualities of the survivors.

    Those who wish to see Sole's publications can find them here: https://psiucv.academia.edu/Mar%C3%ADaSoledadDelVillarTagle

    Boston – San Cristóbal de Las Casas – Valparaíso, March 13, 2026

  • Sobre la esperanza en tiempos inciertosSearching Mothers | NTR | Zacatecas, 2025

    On hope in uncertain times

    By Carlos Mendoza-Álvarez

    At dusk this Saturday, the first Advent vigil begins, when Christian communities throughout the world embark on a journey, in the midst of the darkness of time, to receive the human and divine light of dignity and hope that the Messiah brings. The ancient hymn will resonate during the nighttime celebrations, Rorate caeli , whose lyrics and melody are like a lament that rises to heaven from the desolate city, crying out that “the clouds rain down on the Righteous One,” as the prophet Isaiah (45:8) implored during the exile in Babylon.

    Each year, this four-week calendar leading up to Christmas is accompanied by symbols of light, greenery, carols, sweets, tenderness, and community. According to each culture, the waiting period for the Messiah's arrival evokes the awareness that "something is lacking" for the fulfillment of those desires for new times of justice, truth, compassion and peace, not only for a people who arrogantly claim to be the only chosen ones, but for all of humanity and even for the entire cosmos.

    Every generation has seen terrible signs that the world is ending, whether through epidemics that make us feel how vulnerable our bodies and knowledge are; whether through wars waged by empires against emerging powers that threaten their arrogance; whether through the uncertainty of life itself, diminished by age, illness, failure, loneliness, or hopelessness.

    The biblical texts that we, the believing communities, meditate on these days speak of the expectation of the messiah, first with a strong apocalyptic tone that announces the destruction of the corrupt world, reaching the entire cosmos with a catastrophe that will destroy everything because of the human pride that has taken over creation.

    Then, as the date of the celebration of the Nativity of the Messiah Child, a Nazarene, approaches, the tone of the texts becomes more hopeful with the announcement of a God who is near, humanized, small, and fragile. It is the incarnate promise of a divine and human life that begins in complete vulnerability in the story of a migrant family with a newborn baby, trying to survive on the periphery of the empire and fleeing the fury of the local ruler, eventually finding refuge in Egypt, from where a definitive chapter in the history of human redemption will begin to be written.

    However, the collective depression we are experiencing today as humanity due to the escalation of hatred to extremes – which is spreading across the planet in an apocalyptic way “like a lie of Satan,” as René Girard said in an interview he gave me in 2007 in Paris (Hope as apocalypse)– this seems to render any narrative of hope for our uncertain times illusory. The genocide in Gaza continues as the climax of the Nakba or Catastrophe that began in 1947 with the expulsion of nearly a million Palestinians from their lands, paving the way for the creation of the state of Israel in 1948, this systemic violence continues today before our digital screens, met with indifference by social media and the international community. The wars in Ukraine, Congo, and South Sudan have become so “normalized” that they no longer make the front page of newspapers, much less a trending topic in the digital world. In Mexico, public indifference to urgent issues such as the crisis facing corn, lemon, and avocado farmers—caused by the violence in Michoacán—along with the persistent femicides and forced disappearances, speaks to a growing discontent among the population, expressed through strikes, road blockades, and street protests. But the masses seem numb, retreating into bubbles of entertainment and unrestrained holiday shopping, which, among other ills, leaves household finances in ruins for months and years to come.

    Religious consumerism is also part of the overwhelming Christmas marketing, amidst kitschy decorations and echoes of folk crafts used to make piñatas featuring popular characters. It will certainly be present at Mexican posadas, Trump's piñata , which is sold in various markets in Mexico and the United States, will receive blows as a ritual of revenge amid laughter and boos until the cardboard breaks and the blond wicks of the tyrant fly out like shooting stars in some tenement courtyard in Mexico City, Chicago or Los Angeles for the delight of all.

    A few families may perhaps rediscover the “mystical” meaning of the Advent wreath, following the Avatar of Carlo Acutis explaining Advent 2025. This video, which is circulating online, aptly explains the spiritual significance of the ritual of lighting each of the four candles during this season that prepares for Christmas. The light lit each Sunday of Advent symbolizes the "people who walked in darkness and have seen a great light" (Isaiah 9:2), which the prophet foretold to the Hebrew people devastated by the division between the small kingdoms of Israel and Judah, with their leaders corrupted by the idolatry of power, seeking alliances with neighboring Syria to defeat the rival tribe.

    And like a non-place amidst so much noise, creating a void in the midst of the urban clamor, in Mexico the collectives of Searching Mothers (Searching mothers light Christmas tree) will set up Christmas trees covered with ornaments bearing the faces of those we have lost. They are today “the voice crying in the wilderness” (John 1:23) because they speak on behalf of the victims of the narco-state war and the idolatry of the necropower of our time.

    Perhaps this is where the theological core of this season lies: the absence of the Messiah is something that has inspired Hebrew and Christian generations for centuries to mobilize in order to make the messianic times present through acts of remembrance, justice and an (im)possible reconciliation.

    Beyond a folkloric celebration of the coming of God-with-us, what we are about today is going to the other side of history to contemplate there, in the silence of the night, some glimmer of light that announces the arrival of the Messiah. And those who feel in every second of their lives, in every breath—like Vero and Fabiola, mothers searching for their missing children who shared their hope with us in a recent meeting in Guadalajara—the absence that hurts and motivates them to search out of love, are the ones who teach us what hope means in times of uncertainty, the heart of Advent.

    Next Monday, December 1st, the documentary Re-exists 2025 will be presented online (Presentation of the documentary Re-exists 2025), prepared by Uruguayan filmmaker Juan Meza. There, some of the stories of awakening, healing, and embodiment shared by people from seventeen countries and different religious and spiritual traditions from four continents facing diverse forms of violence where it has been possible to spell out hope.

    Advent is a time to continue weaving networks of combative hope , say the social movements on the peripheries of the empire, so that our world does not fall into the abyss. And it is possible to do so by listening to the people who for years and centuries have resisted and now accompany us in re-existing.

    Because there will always be hope as long as there are people and communities who live the end times, so insistently emphasized by Javier Sicilia and Elías González, as the opportunity to enter into another way of existing amidst violence but pregnant with the active expectation of messianic times.

    Happy Advent season!

    Mexico City, November 29, 2025

    Note: I would appreciate your feedback at the end of this page.

  • Una flor de composta O sobre las re-existencias en medio de la catástrofeCarlos Mendoza | Re-exists 2025 | Opening Ritual 23 IX 25

    A compost flower Or about re-existences in the midst of catastrophe

    By Carlos Mendoza Álvarez

     

    At the end of September, more than eighty people from survivor groups around the world gathered for a meeting of mutual listening, deepened by attentive dialogues with university students and nourished by provocations from artist groups. We were received with the magnificent hospitality of the Jorge Manzano Chair from ITESO that became home for a few days.

    We began by celebrating the resistances that transform what seems like waste through love, inspired during the opening ceremony by the renowned Catalan singer Lídia Pujol who whispered that “from the compost that is rottenness, the flower can emerge” (Babel). She had discovered this wisdom in the poetry of her 12th-century countryman Ramon Llull, who recounted that “having found a friend who was dying without love, when he asked him why he was dying without love, he replied that no one had made him know about love or had taught him to be a lover.”

    Angelica, from the lands of Malaysia, scattered grains of rice and Himalayan salt as an offering during the inaugural ritual, during which we prepared to listen attentively to the otherness that welcomes us as Mother Earth and inhabits us as Divinity that animates us with its ineffable breath of life.

    Five tables, each with representatives from six collectives, divided into Spanish and English language groups, were the place where we listened to each other each morning, exchanging experiences to awaken, heal, and embrace each other, drawing on the inner vulnerability of each person and collective. Each table had two listeners, who identified the similarities and differences between the experiences described, thus weaving together a mutual accompaniment of solidarity and hope to confront the local and global horror we were describing. Raúl, a young Mayan popular educator through hip hop in Chiapas, commented that "no one had ever sat at a table to listen to my knowledge." Nancy, a Latina feminist theologian from the United States, along with Bosque, a biologist and environmental-spiritual activist from Cuernavaca, were tasked, like other members of academia and organized civil society present at the meeting, with cultivating this attentive listening to weave a common narrative amidst the differences of each experience and context.

    Thus, we respectfully explored the sacred ground of resistance and re-existence. First, by approaching the horror, which we named according to the stories each person told. Sofía, for example, shared her experience as a young Ecuadorian migrant lawyer in Barcelona, where for several years she has worked with undocumented domestic workers in a feminist "coalition" that led them to form a union to strengthen them in the fight for their rights as migrant women while allowing them to develop artisanal skills to support their cause. Sofía's reflection echoed that of Alex, a graphic designer and popular artist who accompanies the Ecclesial Base Communities of El Salvador in the face of President Bukele's state of emergency. Now in its fourth year under an authoritarian leader, this regime of exception produces a filthy life for poor youth in the Salvadoran peripheries accused of criminality to whitewash a regime that has been colluding with criminal mafias for years. The resistance of both groups, in Catalonia and El Salvador, exuded an "interiority" that inspires them in their daily struggles. Christian spirituality in the Salvadoran case and feminist sorority in the Catalan case.

    But it wasn't just about sharing the spoken word; it was about exploring other languages through workshops on body language and sound expression, or through the Jauja dance in the Peruvian Andean highlands as a path of resistance for a people, thus discovering other modes of communication between the seeking mothers and the healing companions who came from South Dakota or Malaysia. These other languages allowed us to overcome language barriers and helped us create powerful nonverbal communication bonds.

    And to tie knots in the fabric of the threads intertwined in each day, the performances, like the one prepared with much love and talent by a Portland collective to celebrate the water that makes us up, thus helping us feel that we are water. To the rhythm of hip hop and rap as an alternative urban art proposal, the Mayan collectives of Chiapas that educate children threatened by drug cartels in the outskirts of cities in the mountains of southeastern Mexico, turned out to be a balm to heal wounds still open from other violence. Like that narrated by Vero looking for her son Diego, missing for ten years, or the violence against girls in Pakistan that Sabine recounted in her Support work in working-class neighborhoods of Faisalabad, in the Punjab region of PakistanThanks to this rapper performance, we all joined in the dance, while drawing symbols on the mural painted by Yara as part of a performance also dedicated to the water being killed in the planet's rivers, lakes, and seas.

    We concluded each day with a harvest moment, where the popular narrative of Blessed Mixture, formed by young people from the Ecclesial Base Communities of Our America, helped us celebrate what we heard and shared through symbols, songs, and rituals. The guiding figures were the bees, a symbol of Mother Earth's resilience, which we welcomed with a wax candle produced by them, burning their flame in the palm of our hand to feel the pain of endangered species. This gesture was accompanied by a drop of honey poured into the other hand to give us a taste of their sweetness as survivors.

    Then came the little house of Acteal, which was placed in the center of the circle of participants to remind us of the martyrdom of some human bees. pacifist collective of Las Abejas linked to the Zapatista bases, opting for the path of active non-violence in their shared struggle with justice and dignity for the indigenous peoples, suffered the murder of 45 of its members, among them four pregnant women, who were massacred on December 22, 1997 in Chiapas in the community hermitage while they were praying for peace, a crime perpetrated by paramilitaries with the complicity of the federal army (Acteal Massacre, Chiapas. Serious human rights violations by the Mexican State in 1997). His memory continues to sting like a splinter that hurts the lives of the indigenous peoples who seek other possible worlds.

    We closed those moments of harvest by making kites with messages of peace for women violated by patriarchy and for the Palestinian people resisting the ongoing genocide by the Israeli state. These artifacts helped us direct our hearts and gaze toward a future with dignity and hope for the people in resistance.

     

     

    The visit to the community of El Salto, in the suburbs of Guadalajara, led us to cross the abysmal line of the ongoing ecocide that the environmental collective that received us on the “Tour of Horror” (A Leap of Life) describes itself as “an industrial paradise with an environmental hell.” The Lerma-Santiago River basin, which runs 708 kilometers across western Mexico, is an open wound for Mexican territory and for the animal and plant species and people who inhabit it. Since the post-war industrial boom of the last century, polluting industry has spread across this vast region like a social and environmental virus. To date, more than 90 highly toxic pollutants have been identified, many of them carcinogenic, of which only a few, more visible, are treated with a couple of treatment plants. Sofía and Pedro, young environmentalists from the area, tell us that the transnational corporations established in this basin, such as Nestlé, Toyota, IBM, and many others, claim to be green companies today, when in reality, their local parts suppliers are the ones producing the most pollution because they do not comply with current national and international regulations.15 transnational corporations pollute the Santiago River, according to an international report.). ITESO is part of a network of universities in the region that study the water problem (Industry and nature in conflict: will there be a
    future for water in Lerma-Chapala?) in constant collaboration with the collectives of residents and environmentalists who seek to save the watershed with its inhabitants of diverse species.

    Among the members of the group welcoming us is Emmanuel, a little boy of barely ten years old. Wearing cowboy boots and a cowboy hat, he leads his mother's hand as they show us the polluted wetlands, filled with the fetid odor of the city's sewage and the invasive species that inhabit them, such as tilapia, a contaminated fish sold in many markets across the country. The ecological present for this little boy from Guadalajara is catastrophic, but a possible future is beginning to emerge with community organizing.

     

     

    One of the morning rituals was presided over by Cecelia Firethunder, a Lakota grandmother who told us about her people's long journey of healing their wounds in resistance in the United States. Her experience as a child in a sunflower field that welcomed her in a dance of dignity and strength when she faced discrimination at school has continued to inspire her ever since, as she accompanies her people in awakening from centuries-old segregation, to heal their wounded memories by recovering their language, their knowledge, and their ancestral rituals. It is then possible to walk forward creating new ways of eating, like the initiative shared by her compatriot Nick Hernández to recover lands and methods of communal organization and indigenous Lakota agriculture (Makoce. Agricultural Development) in the heart of the Indian reservations, which have been territories controlled by the US government for two hundred and fifty years.

     

     

    From the compost that is rotten, the flower can emerge, as Lídia Pujol said.

    But for that moment to arrive in our time of environmental collapse, it is necessary to first recycle the waste produced by extractive, racist, and patriarchal capitalism to recover the organic essence of the resistance of communities of survivors, including Mother Earth.

    At the end of the meeting, we each returned to our places of origin and life choices, certain that as long as there is resistance, there will be hope, because there, in the midst of catastrophe, the lilies of re-existence sprout.

     

     

    Guadalajara, September 28, 2025

English