I went looking for interesting Quakers with interesting lives and stories for the new book Passing the Torch, which is now out. Barbara Bernsten certainly qualifies. She has lived in Norway for many years. But she’s American born, and I first heard of and from her more than ten years ago, in an email to … Continue reading “Passing The Torch” – “Pray for Segregation!” The Authors Speak (First in a series)
I owe a lot to Peg Champney, who died November 5, at 87. But I did not know her that warm day in the late 1980s when I turned off Sandy Ridge Road in the small eastern Ohio town of Barnesville, onto the campus of the Olney Friends School, where she was. The grassy, … Continue reading Peg Champney: Tribute to a quietly powerful Friend
Souperist practices, reported at the time, included serving meat soups on Fridays – which Catholics were forbidden by their faith from consuming, and by the fact that they could not afford meat in the first place.
Soupers were frequently ostracised by their own community, and were strongly denounced from the pulpit by the Catholic priesthood. On occasion, soupers had to be protected by British soldiers from other Catholics.
There are still neo-Orthodox Friends who can’t discuss de Hartog’s novel, The Peaceable Kingdom without turning red in the face and showing signs of apoplexy. And it’s not hard to see why: a hundred or a thousand people have read of de Hartog’s rollicking, bigger than life liberal Fox for every one who searched out their querulous caviling about it in Quaker Religious Thought.
But there’s one other thing to note about de Hartog’s opus. “In his lectures on Quaker history,” Ann Sieber reports, “Jan has waged a sly campaign to shift the credit for much of Quaker faith and practice from Fox to Fell.” And she also notes that in The Peaceable Kingdom, it is Margaret Fell who is by far the more fully-developed character, while Fox remains something of a mystical wraith.
Jan was pointing toward a feminist reinterpretation of this history, one that scholars have been fleshing out since then.
De Hartog’s long life was full, not only of books, but of adventure and romance — especially in the older meaning of the term, conveying excitement, charm, fascination and a touch of mystery.
Mike snapped me out of one of my dreams. ”Hey,” he said. “Phone’s for you.” To my inquiring stare he whispered, “Judy Drake. The Phoenix.”
My stomach went cold. “Err, hi Judy,” I croaked.
“Chuck,” she said. “Interesting review. But I’ve got a few questions.”
“Interesting”? I knew that “interesting” was Judy’s word for copy that didn’t qualify for her usual adjective of “great.”
A few questions? My throat went dry. “Okay,” I croaked again. “I mean, Fine! Shoot.”
“Well,” she said, “here’s three: First, what is it you didn’t like about the bass player?”
“Ummm, sure,” I said. “And, uh, the second one?”
“What was it,” she asked, “about Sly’s singing that you said was ‘off-center’?”
“Right. Uh, yeah. Got it. And third?”
“The new song,” she said, “the one they did in the encore. What was the name of it?”
New song? What new song??
“Okay,” I said again. Then cleared my throat. And coughed. I thought maybe I had forgotten how to breathe.
“Chuck? You still there?”
Oh, I was there. And I was so, so busted. ”Um, Judy,” I said slowly, “there’s something I need to explain.”