This is the first time I've posted in quite some time, but thought that this would be worthwhile to share with others who might happen to come across this. I along with my husband and 7 other beautiful souls will be moving to Denver this summer to live as an intentional community, which we have named Hazelnut. During our weekly meetings, a very deep issue has risen, leaving many of us in tears and frustration.

As a brief preface, I'll say that it is specifically related to the issue of whether or not we will all attend and worship at the same church on Sunday mornings together. For some of us this is a very difficult issue to face, due to deep pain that has been experienced within the walls of the types churches we have attended.

In an attempt to work though one of the issues we are facing, I have spent much time reflecting on an issue that has been very painful for myself (and many others in the world today.) As I have only recently begun to be able to express verbally to others, language (more specifically non-inclusive language) has been my greatest obstacle with churches.

I have spent my entire life sitting in pews of churches who preach the Gospel in such a way that demeans and belittles women, and excludes many from the Gospel and the community of faith... not just women. I have not always had the words to describe or the ability to name the feelings that have a raised inside of me until my semester at the OE. Since then I have become extremely sensitive to the language used in churches and in the preaching of the Gospel. Each non-inclusive word has become a dagger. So much so, that I can barely even udder the beginnings of the Lord's prayer. A prayer that I know many hold so dearly.

I have sat in pews replacing non-inclusive words with inclusive words in my head or under my breath, but this is no longer enough. I long to be able to hear and speak freely the Gospel as it was meant to be spoken. I long to be able to hear and pray the Lords prayer again without cringing.

Imagine the relief, freedom, and healing one such as myself might feel walking into a church that communicates the Gospel in the same way that we are taught to love.

Imagine the relief, freedom, and healing one such as myself might feel when they can finally pray aloud to our God, our Mother and our Father.


Peace,
Beth P-R


*In hopes of helping others to understand the importance of inclusive language, I'd like to share with you a book that I have come across in numerous times in my studies at the Oregon Extension, Eastern University, and in my own personal reflection.

The first few chapters of the book, Inclusive Language in the Church by Nancy A. Hardesty are available online and I feel that she gives a pretty good introduction and has great insights into the importance of inclusive language and reflects much of the basics of what I believe.

Here's the link: http://www.google.com/books?id=8QMmY59kJkEC&dq=inclusive+language&printsec=frontcover&source=in#PPA15,M1

I've gotten into the habit of knitting much more consistently. I've found that it really helps me to relax and fo cus. Once I get into a rhythm, I soon find myself in a calm and peaceful state. I'm trying a lot of new patterns and techniques, which can be quite frustrating but also quite satisfying once I get the hang of things.

"Hope begins in the dark, the stubborn hope that if you just show up and try to do the right thing, the dawn will come. You wait and watch and work: you don't give up."

-Anne Lamott

For the OE by Me

My journey has brought me here,
a well amongst the wilderness.
Here I have met you,
you dreamers, lovers, life givers.
I hold out my cup, worn and beaten from my journey, and you,
you pour out your lives freely, overflowing so that I may have enough.
You introduce me to God, mother,
who wraps me in rahamim ,
a blanket for my journey.
And in the silence and stillness you,
you introduce me to God, father,
who kisses my face and says,
"Go, daughter, your faith has made you well,"
a blessing for my journey.
Soon I will leave here and continue on my journey
with my cup overflowing with love, mercy and blessings.
And when I come across another, searching for a well,
I will pour freely from my cup,
so they too may have enough.

The Journey by Mary Oliver

One day you finally knew
what you had to do, and began,
though the voices around you
kept shouting
their bad advice--
though the whole house
began to tremble
and you felt the old tug
at your ankles.
"Mend my life!"
each voice cried.
But you didn't stop.
You knew what you had to do,
though the wind pried
with its stiff fingers
at the very foundations,
though their melancholy
was terrible.
It was already late
enough, and a wild night,
and the road full of fallen
branches and stones.
But little by little,
as you left their voices behind,
the stars began to burn
through the sheets of clouds,
and there was a new voice
which you slowly
recognized as your own,
that kept you company
as you strode deeper and deeper
into the world,
determined to do
the only thing you could do--
determined to save
the only life you could save.

Wild Geese by Mary Oliver

You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
for a hundred miles through the desert repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.
Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and the deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting -
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things.

The Woman in the by Marge Piercy

The woman in the
ordinary pudgy [under]graduate girl
is crouching with eyes and muslces clenched.
Round and smooth axs a pebble
you efface yourself
under ripples of conversation and debate.
The woman in the block of ivory soap
has massive thighs that neigh
and great breasts and strong arms that blare and trumpet.
The woman of the golden fleece
laughs from the belly uproariously
inside the girl who imitates
a Christmas card virgin with glued hands.
It is time to bust out of girlscout camp.
It is time to stop running
for most popular sweetheart of Campbell Soup.
You are still searching for yourself in others' eyes
and creeping so you wont be punished.
In you bottled up is a woman peppery as curry,
a yam of a woman of butter and brass,
compounded of acid and sweet like a pineapple,
like a hand gernade set to explode,
like a goldenrod ready to bloom.
-Marge Piercy