Quakers and Christianity

It’s a pretty common question online, in various question-asking-and-answering communities, and indeed offline when talking to people about our faith: are Quakers Christian? Seems like a simple question, doesn’t it? Well, the answer is, as ever, not anywhere near as simple.

If you want my short answer, it would be “some are”, but then others would say “yes”, despite the obvious presence of Quakers who do not identify as Christian, or “no”, despite the obvious presence of those who do.

If you want the quickest answer that is minimally misleading, I’ll have a go at that. Quakers grew out of Christianity, in a time and place where Christianity was the assumed norm, an almost, and to all practical purposes, universal faith – but where there were many varieties of it, most varieties suffering some degree of persecution. Christians who hold that a credal statement is a necessary characteristic of being a Christian – be it a specific formulation such as the Nicene Creed or a more general belief in, for example, the Trinity – would reject Quaker institutions as Christian, from early in our history, due to both our rejection of creeds and our acceptance of diverse forms of Christian belief from the very beginning. However, all early Quakers would call themselves Christians, indeed they generally felt they were ‘restoring’ true Christianity.

Easter Reflection: The Lord's Supper

I wrote last year about Quakers and Easter, both what it can mean from a community perspective, and what it can mean from a spiritual perspective. This year, I wish to reflect on a Christian story that forms part of the Easter narrative, but which has led to a practice that is undertaken regularly, year round, by most Christian and derived traditions – though not, largely speaking, by Quakers (certainly not by those who worshipped in an unprogrammed manner, and not consistently by those in programmed traditions). I refer, of course, to the story of the Last Supper, and the practice of the Eucharist – also known as Holy Communion, the Lord's Supper, the Blessed Sacrament, Sacrament of the Altar, the Breaking of Bread (a term which can relate to wider and older traditions), and other names besides. For those who do not recognise those terms, this is the symbolic (or more than symbolic, depending on your denomination) consumption of the body and blood of Christ – in the form of bread or wafers and wine (or grape juice or water, depending on denomination) – during the main worship service in most Christian churches.

Repentance and Forgiveness

Like much of our spiritual experience, the Quaker
confessional is inward.

Once upon a time, I habitually listened to Radio 4. For the Americans, this is broadly similar to NPR – I don't know a good point of comparison for any other countries. Basically, it's one of the nine “mainstream” national radio stations from the BBC (there's also a tenth specifically focused on British Asian communities, and local stations for the nations and regions), and it's focussed on talk content. Comedy, drama, in-depth current affairs, that sort of thing. It's very popular with Quakers. If your Quaker community has a trope about ministry coming from a radio station, we have the same thing with Radio 4.

In the last few years, I've listened to Radio 4 less and less. While it has some wonderful content that isn't related to current affairs, there's a huge amount that is – and current affairs has gotten rather depressing lately. It would be quite bothersome to put it on just for the programmes we want and change station every time a news bulletin comes on. Not that we avoid all news; we follow a lot of news online, consuming it when we want to, on our terms. Managing mental health is very important.

Revision: A Reaction to the Decision

As readers of my blog, or indeed those who keep up with Quaker matters in Britain at all, will be aware, this weekend Britain Yearly Meeting met in session, with the principal matter on the agenda being the proposal to revise the YM's Book of Discipline, Quaker faith & practice. This was proposed at Yearly Meeting Gathering four years ago, but Friends were unable to come to unity; instead, it was decided that a group be appointed to help prepare the Yearly Meeting to be better able to take the decision in either direction, and to lay the groundwork for future revision whenever it might occur.

This group, the catchily-named Book of Discipline Revision Preparation Group (BoDRPG is how I abbreviate this; it seems that BYM decided the appropriate revision would just be RPG, which I suppose is not too ambiguous in context – even if it makes me think of Final Fantasy or Dungeons & Dragons), has been working hard for over three years. They have been working out logistics, engaging in explorations of theology, and running the Reading Quaker faith & practice programme to encourage Friends to be more familiar with the existing text before trying to make the decision again.

That preparation has borne fruit, with – by all reports that have come my way – an amazingly positive and constructive approach to the question at Yearly Meeting. The decision was taken, with suitable commentary in the minute instructing Meeting for Sufferings, and the to-be-appointed revision committee, about the approach that Yearly Meeting feels they should take.

(Buckle up, this is going to be a long one)

What Are "The Things Which Are Eternal"?

“Seek to know one another in the things which are eternal”. It's a popular phrase, made particularly well-known by it's inclusion in Britain Yearly Meeting's Advices and queries, number 18. It falls easily from our lips, and a lot of people seem to put a lot of emotional investment in the idea, but what does it mean?

In my experience, Friends often seem to use the phrase in a way that is rather non-specific. Much like “that of God in every one”, its meaning seems to be in the moment, in whatever form is useful to the speaker. Usually, it seems to add a sort of warm fuzz to the idea of getting to know one another, that it means getting to know one another in a deep sense, rather than a superficial one. You might know what someone does for living, but it is knowing them in a deeper way to find out that they paint landscapes, or write poetry. This is a reasonable distinction to make, and the idea that we, as Friends, should know one another well is a laudable one. Is this really “the things which are eternal”? Certainly, there's a degree to which meanings change with time and context, especially as society changes – or as our Religious Society changes.

A Quaker Lent

If we are to examine Lent in a meaningful way, it should be in
connection to the story from which it derives – Christ's time in
the wilderness – whether that is part of our own belief
structure or not.

For a liturgical practice that is so drawn-out, Lent has a considerable degree of penetration into minimally-observant Christian society in Britain, and even into the lives of the completely irreligious. It doesn't have TV adverts exhorting us to excessive consumption, and it doesn't have a big punchy festival, although it leads up to one. But in my experience, a simplistic conception based on the traditional Lenten Fast is still fairly pervasive in British society.

As my regular readers will be aware, I have a recurring thesis in these posts – upholding the sense of the Quaker testimony concerning times and seasons, but seeking to see what Quakers might take from them to inform personal spiritual practice. Here, I shall apply that principle once again – to Lent.

The Spiritual and Moral Imperative of Outreach

It is not enough for the door to be open. People
need to know it is there, and have some idea
about where it might lead.

I have often bemoaned the tepid attitude to outreach among many liberal Quaker Meetings, especially here in my home Yearly Meeting in Britain. There is, perhaps, more enthusiasm centrally, but in many Local and Area Meetings, it is not something that people put a great deal of thought or energy into. There are those Meetings that do go at it wholeheartedly, of course, and I applaud them for it.

Some of the arguments for greater outreach that I see – in fact, if I'm honest, most of them – focus on the fact our numbers are dwindling, and that there is a practical need to get more people involved in our Meetings. I feel there should be more attention given to the spiritual imperative for outreach, and so that is what I will be presenting in this post.

For the many denominations commonly considered evangelical, there is a clear justification for their work to bring others to their faith, and the insistent persuasion, sometimes veering into badgering, that they tend to employ. The Great Commission of Matthew 26, for those who do not believe it to have been fulfilled (preterism being a fascinating subject that I might return to on an occasion that I feel like doing more research into Christian stuff), is a clear injunction that does not seem unreasonable to consider to have been passed on to the whole Church. From that point of view, attempting to cause as many people as possible to become Christians is perfectly logical, however irritating some might find it. Some Christian or Christian-derived groups even hold the conversion of others to give one some sort of credit with God, to ensure a better result in the afterlife.

For that matter, in any faith – whether Christian or not – in which there is an idea of “salvation”, of a good or bad outcome after death that is largely determined by right belief (and perhaps right action as well), there is a clear moral imperative to at least give as many people as possible the opportunity to come to that right belief and to understand how they should act, and why. Repugnant as some of the acts it was used to justify over history might have been, there is a logic of compassion in trying to bring people “to God” in such a framework.

Dualism and Duality

Is the coin heads, or tails?

These might seem to you to be two words that mean the same thing, subtly different terms, or completely distinct concepts, depending on your background. In one set of definitions, they mean the same thing – that things can be divided into two, or sometimes more, categories. Self and not-self is a duality that is important in some Buddhist traditions, while we might see theism and non-theism as a duality in modern liberal Quakerism. In philosophy, dualism refers generally to any division into two, but most often (as in Cartesian dualism) the division of mind and body, or material and immaterial. In religion, we speak of dualistic religions as those that posit a pair of oppositional fundamental forces, generally – but not always – good and evil, or a pair of oppositional divinities, or a divinity and an opposing non-divine force. In mathematics, and most especially with one famous example in physics, duality can refer to two distinct systems or representations that are nonetheless equivalent, or represent the same thing; we'll return to that key example later.

Why I, a Non-Theist, Like "Lord of the Dance"

As regular readers of this blog will be aware, I do not consider myself a Christian. Nor, in fact, do I believe in any theistic God, but that is (for once) beside the point of this post. Mostly.

In this post, I will be looking at hymns. Hymns are important to a lot of Christians, and even for some liberal Quakers, though they do not feature as a regular part of our worship. Devotional music is important to many people of all sorts of different faiths, bringing some beauty and profundity to the act that the words alone somehow fails to convey. I think a lot of Christian hymns are musically uninspired, personally, and the lyrics in many seem awkward, even taking Christian belief as a given. Some, however, I can see that beauty in, even if I can't sing them wholeheartedly myself due to the words not having that significance for me.

There are some hymns, however, that speak to me beyond the surface of their words, and in this post, I'll be looking at one of them. Despite it's absolutely Christ-based words, it speaks to me with more than just its music; my failure to identify with the literal meaning of its words doesn't stop it from somehow resonating. I'm going to try and explore why.

Everyone Can Draw Meaning From Christmas

The Adoration of the Shepherds, Gerard van Honthorst

As explored in my pantheons and archetypes series (which I hope to return to in the new year, when I decide which archetype to look at next), I very much believe that all Quakers, whatever their theological tendencies, can benefit from consideration of the ideas and stories from different faiths and traditions. When I say this, I don't just mean that Christian and non-theist Friends should look at ancient pagan traditions – I also mean that non-Christians should look at Christian traditions and stories. This time of year is a great opportunity to give an example of this, how the stories of Christmas can be spiritually meaningful to anyone, regardless of the extent to which they believe in them.

It's really quite a story, when you think about it. We're going to get into a bit of history for this, and I'm no expert on this stuff, so I've probably gotten some stuff subtly (or horribly) wrong, but the general sense should be accurate enough. The context is of a faith community and society that is living under a fair degree of repression, albeit sporadic, by a foreign power – and that has a history of oppression and forced migration present in both their written and oral histories. That foreign power, Rome, is habitually tolerant of the religious preferences of their subject and client populations, within certain limitations. One of the absolute limits was human sacrifice, which is not relevant here, but one of the practical limits was that the religion had to be somehow compatible with the Roman state religion. Monotheistic cultures could be okay, as they might acknowledge the validity of other deities while cleaving strongly to their own. The Jewish faith, however, resisted the idolatry they saw in even acknowledging other faiths, and while the Roman habit would be to let them have their faith, they found that exclusivity uncomfortable.

Liberal Quakerism as a "Self Religion"?

Shall we align our chakras with healing
crystals? The Quaker Way isn't just another
New Age mishmash.

One thing I have seen said, from time to time about liberal Quakerism is that it has become a “self religion”. Usually, this is said by way of criticism, often (but not always) by fairly traditionalist Friends. In this post, I'll be taking a look at what this term means, and the extent to which liberal Quakerism – as I've experienced it – fits that definition, and some thoughts on the extent to which it should.

The term itself is not used entirely consistently. It is widely used in a derogatory way towards “new age” spirituality, even identified with such things, and is also used by the less vociferous critics of Scientology to describe that faith. However, the underlying and original meaning appears to be religions or spiritual paths that aim for the development of the self, with specific reference to new age and other paths that developed in the 70s and 80s. A characteristic that is often derided in these faiths in extreme individualism, the ability to cherry-pick from a range of traditions in your attempt to perfect yourself – though reports rather suggest this is rather less true of Scientology, which is generally considered a self religion. Thus, I tend to feel that the main defining quality of a self religion is the goal of self-perfection – whether the faith says this leads to apotheosis, results after death, or a better life here and now. However, the implications of pick-and-choose are probably very important in the allegation that liberal Quakerism has become a self religion, so that must also be borne in mind.

So, here's the first question: does Quakerism aim for the perfection of the self? If so, how, and to what end?

A Quaker Christmas

As I described in my previous post regarding Halloween, Quakers have a traditional testimony concerning times and seasons, that different days and different times of the year not have liturgical significance. However, as I also set out in that post, we can see value and benefit of festivals without ascribing them inherent religious significance.

In this post, I shall be applying the same approach to Christmas, and all of the things that go with it, both liturgically and culturally – advent, epiphany, even the secular new year celebration.

Your Ideas Wanted for New Post Series

As those who have signed up to my Patreon will be aware, I've been working for a little while on a longer piece, that will be published as a series of posts, looking at different approaches to the Divine and to Quaker business method. This builds on the ideas I presented at Woodbrooke earlier this year, looking at discernment in the context of a religious society that enjoys a wide diversity of beliefs.

In that presentation, I talked about the idea of conceptions of the Divine, along similar lines to those in my post on the subject of such conceptions (which rather drew on the work I did for the Woodbrooke presentation), talked about how they relate to different conceptions of what is going on in a Quaker business meeting, and laid out the traditional (theistic) view of business. I then followed this up with my own non-theist conception, and I was very gratified to see that people could largely accept that, while they could not be considered equivalent, not “the same thing in different terms”, they were compatible.

What Happened to Quaker Missionary Zeal?

How do we, how should we, share our gift of Light?

In the early years of the Society of Friends, there was a strong focus on evangelism, of proselytising with a missionary zeal. While this is still found in parts of the pastoral and evangelical branches of the world family of Friends, over here in the liberal branch it has died away, pretty much completely. What happened, and should we be concerned? I shall attempt to answer this, for myself at least, with something of a whistle-stop tour of some relevant Quaker history. This will, by necessity, be somewhat light on detail, and will generally avoid making caveats around the different interpretations and versions of events that different factions hold to. This should not be taken as my version of events, or my preferred interpretation, just what I have managed as a fairly quick summary, covering the key points without attempting to make sure every little detail is included. Please do not use this as a source in your own learning about Quaker history – but the names and summaries may work as a jumping off point for your own reading.

Like many liberal Quakers, the lack of proselytisation is associated in my mind with some of the characteristics of liberal Quakerism that I most value: uncertainty about traditional religious “big questions”, universalism, theological liberalism. The idea that there is no “one true way”, that we can all find the spiritual path that is suited to us, and that this might be found in any number of different faiths. Of course, these are also factors that would seem pretty strange to many Friends in the earliest days of the Society; they were absolutely and definitely Christian, even if that Christianity was fairly orthodox. Universalist sentiments arose not too long after, from Friends such as William Penn and Mary Fisher, but they weren't about integrating different theological backgrounds into the community of Friends; rather, they were about respecting and valuing other faiths, rather than dismissing them – but they remained entirely separate and other, if not entirely “other”.

Religious Privilege and British Quakers

Being typically middle-class and educated, and with a strong interest in equality, Quakers (at least in the global economic north) are probably more likely than the average person to be aware of the concept of privilege and oppression. This is, however, a fairly academic concept, with reasonably precise and specialised meaning, and my own conversations with other Friends, both online and in person, have illustrated that understanding of it is far from universal. In this post, I will be discussing the idea of religious privilege, both in wider society and its impact within the Religious Society of Friends – particularly in Britain Yearly Meeting.

Privilege

Before we get into religious privilege, it's probably a good idea to make sure we're on the same page about “privilege” in general. When used in this context, the discussion of social advantage, it takes a particular sociological meaning. While the everyday sense of the word means some particular advantage, such as the franking privilege in relation to some legislatures, and there is a legal meaning related to the ability to compel evidence, or even whether evidence is admissible at all, this sociological meaning is both broader and more subtly specific.

I am aware that some people don't like the term, or even the concept. However, in order to discuss the actual underlying idea in this post, it's necessary to use language that makes the point efficiently and without repetition of explanations. So I ask those of you who struggle with this language to push through it to try and understand the underlying point, rather than reject it based on the premise of the language and theory itself.

A Quaker Halloween

It's a strange idea, isn't it? After all, the traditional Quaker testimony against keeping of times and seasons holds that there is no spiritual significance to any day. Quakers do not, traditionally, take liturgical notice of Christian seasons and festivals, be it Lent or Advent, Easter or Christmas. How then can we have a Quaker Halloween, a festival that is now of limited liturgical significance even to mainstream Christian churches.

There's more to Halloween than the lack of liturgical significance, however, and more to Quaker approaches to Christmas and Easter than their lack of liturgical significance for us. The important aspect of many of these festivals is now, in the global economic north, cultural. Practising members of many faiths will celebrate elements of such holidays, giving presents and attending parties.

Back from Woodbrooke

As previously mentioned, I was privileged to be invited to speak at Woodbrooke's course on The Impact of Diversity of Belief on Quaker Practice: Discernment, Decision Making, Worship. That course is now over, and I'm back home. You may have noticed that I posted a piece of written ministry on Thursday – The Contemporary Quaker Maze. This arose during reflection on an excellent session from Craig Barnett (no relation) on Tuesday morning, leading to a feeling that British Quakerism is in a period of profound transition; where that will take us is hard to know, but it definitely depends what we all do now.

The purpose of inviting me was that I deliver a session specifically on Quaker Business Method, in the context of diversity of belief, specifically non-theism; this session was delivered, over two 90 minute sessions, on Wednesday morning. With a course title and description like that, I had no idea what sort of people would be coming. Would they be open-minded about diversity of belief? Would they be worried about the increasing presence and visibility of non-theism? Would they feel that Christianity is being driven out of British Quakerism? Would they be worried that their own, less traditional beliefs, would be driven out by people who are worried about these things? It made things a bit more nerve-racking, and indeed I was more careful with presentation because of this. It is an issue that is a live source of worry for people with all sorts of positions.