Quaker Pagan Reflections

The recent discussion of Christian language (precious to some and toxic to others) feels like a single conversation, but it has been rambling over several different blogs. I've found myself writing much more on other people's blogs than on my own this week. Kwakersaur is trying to organize his thoughts about Quaker tolerance , laying down some of his basic assumtions to serve as a springboard for discussion. I'm hoping to engage him, not in a debate, but in speaking and listening deeply that may lead to some degree of unity between us, even standing as we do at near opposite poles on the Chritian language issue. Lynn Gazis-Sax, on her blog Noli Irritares Leones ("Don't annoy the lions"?) posted about God, language, and triggers . My response to her has begun to focus my thoughts on what all Quakers--different as many of us are--have in common. Today was day two of a week of inservices before the students come back next Tuesday. I'll try not to disappea...

Recent posts on Quaker blogs , discussions with Pagan friends, experiences in meeting for worship, and a new book I'm reading by Wiccan writer Christopher Penczak , are all causing me to reflect on what shape my spiritual life has right now. Marshall Massey , challenging my comments on the relationship between programmed and unprogrammed Friends in NEYM, asked a question I think he meant as hypothetical: whether I was "ready to change my actual religion?" But this question is not hypothetical, is never hypothetical perhaps, for those of us who practice blended spiritual paths. Maybe it's never hypothetical for anyone with a listening spirituality. In Quaker terms, isn't that what ongoing revelation implies? As the UCC puts it, "God isn't done speaking yet." In Pagan terms, hey, if the Gods talk to you in circle, trance journey, what have you, what are you _supposed_ to do if They tell you to add or change or eliminate a practice? The word ...

Peter's back at work, and the end of the summer not only is here, it _feels_ like it's here. My own teaching schedule starts after Labor day, and I've had three typical end-of-summer nightmares in the last week. (My favorite: almost all the students are off on a field trip, leaving only a handful, who really don't want to be there, including my least favorite student of all time--and if you're one of my students, reading this blog, it isn't you--really! My assignment: teach these students math for 74 minutes. As an English teacher with no lesson plan, you'd think that even in my sleep, I'd recognize that the job is impossible, but, as is the nature of dreams, I keep trying till the alarm goes off to wake me...) The upshot of all this anxiety is that I'm realizing that the things I've taken for granted all summer long, like time to exercise, see friends, and blog, may not be around for me much longer. I've resolved that this year, Year T...

Liz Opp of The Good Raised Up recently posted about how concerned she is at the difficulties that can arise when people, even caring Quaker people, try to communicate about different faith experiences. The back and forth that Peter and I have taken part in, not always calmly, seems to have been one strand in the communications that trouble her. And me... well, I'm concerned, too, because I've come to have a lot of respect for Liz's grounded, open-hearted words. This business of communicating with one another in loving openness and sensitivity--it's definately harder than it looks. For instance, I know that, coming to Quaker ways late in life and as a member of another religious community that is often marginalized, I tend to assume that I'm the outsider in any Quaker discussion. I feel defensive at hints of difference, and I don't always realize this. I am coming to understand that the place in the world that feels so insecure to me looks solid to others...

Greetings from the Maine woods. Actually, that sounds a lot wilder than it really is. After all, I'm posting to out blog, so we're not on the Allagash. We are, in fact, only an hour from the nearest shopping mall, and only twenty minutes from the nearest soft serve. However, though there is dialup web access, it is awfully slow, so I won't be updating the blog until we're home again. If we are slow to post moderated comments this, week, that is why. So, until we're back in the land of broadband, I'll leave you all to visualize the lapping waters of a peaceful lake, the sound of loons calling over the water, and the smell of pine needles and moss. There--isn't that nicer than another closely written philosphical post? Here's to the last hush of summer. May you enjoy it at least as much as I am doing this moment. Blessed be.

kwakersaur read one of my posts from NEYM and used it as a springboard for his own discussion of feeling squelched and silenced as a Quaker Christian. Read his post, rightly dividing the word of truth , and my comments.

This was a parable that somebody told at a prayer and discussion group that I was in when I was part of the Episcopal Church at Yale. I think it was originally a short story by Leo Tolstoy. A woman died and could not go to Heaven because she had been mean and cruel to everyone all her life. She went to Hell, and from there she prayed for mercy. Was there no way she could be admitted to Heaven? The angel who guards the gates looked around and asked all the souls in Heaven, "Is there anyone here who has ever had a kind word or an act of generosity from this woman?" Only one stepped forth. He said that in life he had been a starving beggar, and one time this woman had given him an onion. The angel told him, “Bring me the onion.” It wasn’t much of an onion—small and shriveled—a pretty poor meal even for a beggar. Would it be enough of an act of kindness to raise the old woman out of Hell? The angel took the onion and reached down with it into Hell. The old woman grasped it an...