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Showing posts from February, 2010

A Peace Testimony: Roots and Fruits

Not too long ago, I wrote what I saw as the first of a two part post on my personal peace testimony. Mostly, this post is the continuation of that one; having spent time talking about what my peace testimony has not asked of me, I'm going to try to explain what it has.

First, though, I think I need to say a little bit about what "testimonies" are, at least as I understand them, for those out there who may not be familiar with how that term gets used among liberal Friends.
I've fairly often come across people online who self-identify as Quaker, because "what they believe makes so much sense to me." Often these are people who have taken the Belief-o-Matic quiz on religions, that lists a series of religious groups as a result, and lets you know you're 59% Unitarian Universalist, or 85% Pagan, or 92% Quaker. (For enquiring minds, my result this morning is that I am 100% Liberal Quaker and only 89% "Neo-Pagan.")
With all respect to the developer…

A Little Plain Speech: History in a Christian Echo Chamber

Those who follow this blog already know how little I approve of slinging mud at another religious community. I object again and again to Pagans who demonize Christianity in their rhetoric, and, as an outsider to Christianity, I feel that it isn't fitting for me to criticize it.

But as a Quaker, I'm feeling a need today to call Quaker Christianity out on a problem: y'all need to look up from Christianity, regardless of how you may feel about Pagans and other dual-faith Quakers among you, and learn to see Christianity from the outside just a tiny bit. Trust me--sometimes, you folks don't even know how you sound.

Take this little tidbit that came out today from a blogger over on the QuakerQuaker networking site, "How the Gospel Came to You (For Thy Sake)." (Though the post is originally from an individual blog, it was picked up for the QuakerQuaker feed--a feed which, ironically enough, I carry on this website.)

The writer, Rickey Dean Whetstone, begins innocuou…

January Apples

I have become
January apples, soft, though sweet.
Flesh withered, slumped and baked,
My bloom is gone.

No summer pippin, I,
No garland in bright May.

I have no show in me that's left to make,
No sour-sweetness beckoning.
Perhaps there is no more in me
Of gladness for the eye, or heart, or mind.

Plain nourishment is all I have--
But I will keep you warm, my love,
With memories of spring.