While it is tempting for me to interpret the attacks on this blogger as misogynistic attempts to put a young feminist in her place, and while I am certain that some element of the rancor was in fact fuelled by individuals who dislike outspoken women, I think we feminists need to take a lesson from this too. If we are truly committed to the fundamental principles of feminism (and civil rights in general) that affirm the inherent worth of every individual, perhaps we should try to make sure that our rhetoric supports rather than undermines our values. I know that is something I occasionally forget, when I am angry or tired or feeling a lot of unfocussed passion in need of an outlet. But when we use demeaning and degrading language about others, we close the hearts and minds of those we seek to persuade. We also commit the same aggressions against others that we work so hard to defend ourselves against. That is a moral problem and a strategic one.

That is not to say that there is no place for humor and no place for expressing anger. Sometimes you have to find a reason to laugh at what hurts you. Sometimes you have to let out your frustration. But there has to be a way to do that with some sensitivity to the fact that our opponents in the "culture wars" are people who can be hurt by our words.

Another commenter noted that there is not a lot in this excerpt about grappling with the oppressive and violent aspects of Christianity's history. (Though that may be in the book, who knows).

During my own several-year journey into Christianity, I experienced a similar gap in self-reflection that eventually became a deal breaker for me, at least in terms of participation in the Church as a community of believers. We were a liberal-minded, open and affirming church, pastored by a gay man and a woman. We had a wonderful emphasis on social justice that was inspiring and changed the course of my life.

However, I experienced a persistent avoidance of self-criticism that eventually came to feel like defensive, willful blindness. I so longed to wrestle with the horror and sadness of the story of Jesus' crucifixion. I wanted to ask hard questions about a God that would require such violence and pain as a prerequisite to salvation. I wanted to confront openly and honestly the deeply ingrained misogyny, racism, homophobia, anti-Semitism, etc. of the historical church, and understand how and why abuse and violence could be perpetrated in the name of a God who was supposedly a God of Love. I did not want to ask these questions to deconstruct the faith, but to experience it more honestly, authentically, and responsibly.

These topics were not taboo, exactly, but they did seem to be religious buzz-killers. When raised, by me or others, in thoughtful rather than accusatory ways, they seemed to just suck the energy out of a room and leave even the most articulate believer somewhat speechless. That was unfortunate. It felt constraining and sad, like an opportunity repeatedly and regrettably lost.

I used to prioritize intellectual compatibility in partners. I grew up hearing that being smart (as in book-smart) was the most important attribute a person could have, the thing that made a person most worthwhile. I strove to succeed so I could prove my worth by demonstrating my intellectual prowess, often through the strategic deployment of wit.

What I ended up with, when I chose a mate with similar values and skills, was a constant, tiring, and ultimately shallow game of intellectual and rhetorical one-ups-manship. We were both just striving the best way we knew how to demonstrate our worth to the other ... but we both experienced the other's striving as somehow diminishing and threatening to our own sense of self worth. That was double-plus-unfun.

Eventually, I got wise to the hollowness of that partnership and left the man, kind and good and earnest though he was. I found instead a man who is heart-smart. He loves it when I flex my intellectual muscles, and he does not try to compete with me in that arena. Instead, he appreciates me and learns from me. Meanwhile, I love it tremendously when he shows me how intuitive and in touch he is with the people and the world around him. Best of all, just as our relationship has allowed him to learn from me and grow intellectually, it has given me the opportunity to learn from him and grow emotionally.

Point being, sometimes it's best to find a man to grow into, who will also grow into you, instead of matching yourself like a salt-and-pepper shaker to someone with the same values and the same standards of self-worth. A partner who is too similar will not challenge you in the same way. He will not offer you a new window into your own heart.