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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

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 in

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.