A Quaker Covid Christmas

Your latest Christmas Tree decoration?
(visualisation of SARS-CoV-2 virus by US CDC)

It’s Christmas time. It’s a pandemic. It seems to have quite a lot of people in something of a tizzy.

Our friends across the Atlantic have already negotiated this with their Thanksgiving holidays, when it is common – even traditional – for families to come together, even if they live far apart. Many families here in Britain are in the habit of doing the same at Christmas, and certainly families who do live near one another often get together in larger family gatherings than is their habit at other times of year. The fact it has become a secular holiday, as well as a sacred festival for most Christians, means that this extends over more of the population than one might think by looking at religious demographics.

To an awful lot of people, Christmas isn’t Christmas without household mixing. For the religiously observant, busy services on Christmas Eve bring many households into close proximity. For lots of people, religious or otherwise, Christmas is when family comes together, even if normally spread out. Students return to the family home for Christmas, and even those children who are grown and settled in new lives often do the same. Where the next generation has brought forth their own new generation, the older generation might be hosted by their children, and see their grandchildren. This is normal, expected even – to the extent that childless people who spend Christmas alone, even as a couple, are sometimes pitied at best, thought strange at worst. Charities put a lot of effort into making sure people who don’t want to spend Christmas alone – or who other people think oughtn’t to spend Christmas alone – don’t have to do so.

Covid, Mental Health, Relgion and Spiritual Communities

The public health issues gripping the world have been hard on a lot of people – indeed, I would be surprised to find anyone who hadn’t experienced some sort of negative impact from the changes that Covid-19 has worked upon our lives. I’m sure, here in the UK, we’ve all heard from friends and relatives finding themselves homeschooling their kids with very little notice and usually equally sparse support. I expect more than a few of my readers have been in that position themselves, not just heard about it at one remove. People who have lost their job or had hours cut have obvious stress. People who thrive on social contact will have struggled with the limited ability to see other people. People who have had to restrict contact even more because of being at high risk, such as the UK’s ‘shielding’ category, will have had extra stress just getting essentials, and those who already relied on shopping deliveries have had to cope with slots being much harder to come by.

Those are the obvious sources of stress, of things that can affect people’s mental health. And those are just the tip of the iceberg.

#BlackLivesMatter: A White British Quaker's Perspective

'Slave Trade' by John Raphael Smith, after George Morland's
‘Execrable human traffick, or the affectionate slaves’

Recent events have brought back to wider public consciousness that rallying cry, “Black Lives Matter”. It comes from the United States of America, but its resonance is felt around the world. As we see from the incidents that prompt outcry, it is most easily associated with excess deaths of black people – but it’s about a lot more than that.

Now, most Quakers in Britain are white. Not all of us, by any stretch, but definitely most. We’re also mostly relatively educated, with a much higher incidence of post-graduate qualifications than the general population, and there’s a definite tendency towards being culturally middle class. This has a lot of results, some of which I’ve written about before, but one of them is a real difficulty in engaging with the deep issues that underlie the statement that Black lives matter. I’ve seen Quakers in public on social media respond to that simple statement with one of the most problematic responses that we see everywhere – that “all lives matter”.

Why is that statement a problem? After all, don’t we – with our pacifist tradition and believe in a sort of universal divinity – really fundamentally believe that all lives matter? Yes, of course we do. It would be silly to suggest otherwise. In fact, especially among Quakers, it’s so obvious that it doesn’t even need saying. So why do we need to say that Black lives matter?

Meeting Without Meeting

Well, life is different right now, isn’t it?

For context, just in case people stumble into this once life is back to normal (whatever that ends up looking like), this is written and published during significant social distancing restrictions in Britain due to the Covid-19 pandemic. For the benefit of the international audience reading this immediately, as well as a future audience, we’re currently (22^nd March 2020) being asked not to gather in any sort of group, not to socialise, to work from home if possible, not to go out except as necessary or if we can ensure a minimum 2m distance from anyone else (they want us to still get exercise seems to be the main reason for that). Workplaces are shutting down or going to remote working. Bars, restaurants, theatres, cinemas, cafes have all been asked to close, except for selling take-away food. The government is offering grants to employers to help cover salaries of people who might otherwise be laid off. Panic buying continues to empty supermarket shelves of toilet rolls, soap, some tinned goods, and bread (among other things).

Now, in the context of all of those other things, this next feature is fairly unimportant – but it’s the reason for this blog post, so it’s going to have some prominence.

The Cathedral and the Bazaar (and Quakers)

As some of you will be aware, I’ve put a fair bit of time in my life into software development – I’ve earned a living doing it, I’ve studied it formally, I’ve done it as a hobby. Some of this has been connected, to a variable extent, to the ‘free and open source software’ community, as much a social movement as a software development model, in which the source code of software is available, anyone can modify it, and there’s no restrictions in how you use it. This approach has given us Linux, which I imagine almost all of you have heard of, as well as office productivity packages like LibreOffice and OpenOffice, and specialist software like the database systems MySQL and PostgreSQL or the statistical software package R.

One of the great figures of the philosophy of free and open source software, Eric S. Raymond, wrote a famous essay about different approaches to open source development. Originally presented at a conference for Linux developers in 1997, and later published in a collection bearing the same title in 1999 (the book is still evolving, and available free on his website). That essay, and book, is called The Cathedral and the Bazaar. It talks about two models, the cathedral model and the bazaar model, that broadly describe the way most open source projects had been developed up to that point. So, what does this have to do with religion, what does it have to do with Quakers? Some of you might have a guess already, but read on – through some more about software development – and all will become clear.

What is Community?

Our Meetings are each a community. Each is situated in wider communities – the Area Meeting, the Yearly Meeting, and let us never forget the wider community, beyond Friends, in which our Quaker communities sit.

Community, as a word, is obviously related to commune. As a noun, a commune is a group of people that share something, usually property. As a verb, with a slightly different (but closely related) etymology, it is often used in a spiritual sense for a sort of silent communication, often with something bigger than a person – as in communing with nature, a divinity, and so on. It can also refer to other sorts of intimate communication, or taking of communion in the Christian Eucharist.

Another related word is common. A commune hold their property in common. A community is a group bound together by something in common.

Reflection on ‘Maxim 2’ (The Lone Voice)

“The most important voice to speak and be heard is the lone voice.”
–Maxim 2

This is a deceptively simple statement, I feel. At its most obvious interpretation, it is straightforward – we should listen to people who hold unusual views, or at least uncommonly expressed views. The “lone voice of dissent” should not be dismissed. But does that mean it should be accorded the same weight as the views that are held by most people? There we fall into the same sort of ‘false balance’ that the media have often been accused of in cases like climate science, treating fringe ideas (like “the climate is changing but it’s not because of what humans are doing, and nothing we do can change it”) as worthy of equal time and prominence as mainstream ideas (like “the recent rapid climate change is a result of human activity, and if we have any hope of halting it we must change our behaviour”). Certainly, the lone voice of dissent should not automatically be able to halt a considered and discerned position that has been reached, or is forming, among the rest of a community. Why then would be be encouraged to ensure that the lone voice speaks and is heard?

A Quaker Yule

Even thirty years ago, the word Yule would not have been completely foreign to English-speaking ears. After all, we've used the word Yuletide to refer to the Christmas period for some time. Indeed, the cognate jul exists as a modern word in the Scandinavian languages to refer to the Christian holiday of Christmas.

These days it's not unusual for people to be aware of the pre-Christian roots of the word, referring to a midwinter festival or holiday in the Germanic world. The exact practices among Germanic pre-Christians varied; while their languages and cultures, and indeed religion, shared common roots and themes, there was considerable cultural variation. We know, or at least think we know, of the dísablót and álfablót of the Norse, the public and private sacrifices that took place (as best we can tell, in some periods and some places) around the shortest day of the year, the winter solstice. The first honoured, perhaps placated, the dísir, a range of female spirits and gods, and the Valkyries; the latter the elves, mythic and folkloric figures attributed a great range of impacts of daily life. As the names suggest, each of these was a blót, an act of ritual worship generally involving a sacrifice, generally of an animal (though the similarity of “blót” and “blood” is generally understood to be coincidental). Some sources and evidence indicate that there was also human sacrifice, though evidence that is not questionable generally points to this being exceptional, and generally associated with war.

So far, so much interesting (if hideously simplified for brevity) history. What does it have to do with the world (or society) today, and especially what does it have to do with Quakers? We are not, after all, Germanic pre-Christians.

Maxim 2

Ego, Inner Light, and the Individual Journey

One of the allegations made about theologically pluralistic liberal Quakerism is that it feeds ego; that if we all have our own path that may look dramatically different from another Friends, we may become dominated, each individually and the Meeting and wider community of Friends collectively, by the worst sort of individualism. If we are all following our individual leadings, at least in terms of our spiritual development, it is all too easy to be led astray by our subconscious (or conscious) desires. Where a regimented, hierarchical faith community with a central authority can be a check on individual development through doctrine and review by the clerical hierarchy, a levelled faith community such as that of Friends can only apply any such check through a sort of collective supervision.

This is, frankly, obviously true in a logical sense. What is less obvious is how much of a problem it is in reality, and – related to that – what level of supervision, or even collective control, is appropriate.

Thoughts On Outreach

You may be aware that I recently posted some written ministry concerning outreach, asking why we are so quiet. I didn't mean in worship, of course; silent worship with contributions moved by the Spirit is at heart of the Quaker way. I mean how we are in the world beyond our little Meeting communities. I have written somewhat about this before, concerning the spiritual and moral imperative I see in outreach. It seems timely to put down some other thoughts on the matter.

I can understand a lot of reasons for reticence to engage in outreach. I can understand less the reticence I have seen among some Friends for others to engage in outreach, in general. You might be unsure of how to talk about Quakerism. You might not be generally socially outgoing. You might feel awkward at the idea of talking about your faith tradition as being a good thing. These are all valid. Some of them can be overcome, but none of them are things that you should feel you must overcome. Just because outreach is something that should happen, doesn't mean that everyone should be engaging in it. Indeed, I've sometimes seen people doing outreach who I would much rather weren't, but that's a whole other matter.

Membership, Convincement & Belonging

There are many ways of belonging to the Quaker family. There are those who are part of our community without identifying with our faith, fellow-travellers who participate in some, even all of our activities but do not consider themselves Quakers. There are those of fervent religious belief in the spirit of the early Friends. There are those who call themselves Quakers but deny the religious nature of the experience, or who recognise it as religious but are still patiently waiting for a direct experience of the Divine that they recognise. There is, of course, the division between member and attender, and other terms we throw around – newcomer and enquirer being quite popular ones.

We don't seem to have a coherent view, however, of these different dimensions of belonging, of being part of the Quaker community, of being a Quaker. In this post, I will be exploring some elements of this “belonging space”, to borrow mathematical terminology.

Equality Is More Than Equal Treatment

Equality is one of the most consistent values across the world family of Friends, and has a long and proud history as a Quaker value. Early Friend recognised the essential spiritual equality of men and women, and of rich and poor. Of course, there were hiccups on the way; Quakers were slower than we like to admit to recognise the evil of slavery, and meetings for church affairs (aka business meetings) were long segregated by gender. Still, the essential idea of equality, while it might not always have been as strongly held as it is today, is an important Quaker tradition, and is recognised as a core Quaker testimony by all groups of Friends that make lists of such (at least as far as I am aware).

What do we mean by equality? Equality before God was certainly always an important idea for Quakers, with no ordained clergy. There were those known as ministers, but this was a description of what they did more than who they were. They travelled in the ministry, held public meetings aiming to convince those outside of the Quaker fold, and developed reputations for inspired and powerful ministry in worship. For this, they were known as ministers, but this was essentially a recognition of certain gifts and activities, rather than giving them any authority. The source of authority remained the Spirit itself, and that dwelt equally in all.

The Great Lord and His Sons

There was once a great lord. His realm was peaceful and prosperous. He had five sons, and he gave thought to how they should be raised.

He had not been raised to rule himself, as he had elder brothers. They had all died before their father, so the rule had fallen to him. So it was in his mind to raise them all to know what it is good for lords to know. He saw that it would be best for his realm if any one of them could take up the rule of the realm, govern rightly and judge fairly.

Yet his aunt had married the lord of another realm, and had had many sons. They had all wished to take the place of the lord their father when he died, and so had schemed and plotted and killed, and in the end gone to war on one another. All had died, in assassination or in war, and the last at the hands of his people when he claimed rule over a land broken by war. The lord of that realm now was the the great lord's aunt's grandson, and the power in the hands of courtiers ruling in his name. So it was that the great lord saw that it would be best for his realm, and for his family, if none of his sons should greatly desire to succeed him.

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)

Theology and "Notions"

Water baptism: a ritual Quakers have traditionally considered
an empty form, based on notions, rather than any true leading
of the Spirit.

A fair amount of my writing could be described as theology. Not high, formal, academic theology, perhaps, but it's theology – questions (and, to be fair, rarely answers) about the nature of God, or at least of what-you-will. I've known some to quibble with the idea of calling it “theology” if there's no theos involved, but there's no better term, so I'll use this one. Indeed, I'm hardly the first person to talk about theology in the context of a non-theistic worldview. So, if you are a purist in the meaning of that term, insisting that it only applies to theistic (some would say only Christian) contexts, I ask your forbearance. Also, to not argue with me about it on this post – as will become clear, a large part of what I will be discussing here is in the Christian context, indeed in the context of early Friends, and in any case it would be rather missing the point of the post overall. If you prefer to think of the wider idea as hierology, you may do so, but this isn't the place for a debate on what counts as theology and what as hierology.

The context of early Friends is important here, because one of the great criticisms of those early Quakers was against notions. All the haggling among the Church and its divisions, in the first millennium, over the nature of Christ, the question of the Chalcedonian formulation versus Miaphysitism – that is, whether Christ incarnate was of two natures, human and divine, united in a single hypostasis, or whether he was of one nature, wholly human and divine – is one example. Another, far more contemporary with the early Friends, would be detailed questions over the nature of the Trinity and the relationship between its members. The early Friends were, of course, strongly bible-believing Christians; though this was tempered by reliance on “the Spirit that gave them forth”, the bible was still important and a key tool of the early Friends. Because of this, they did not consider the basic idea of the Trinity to be a notion – it is clearly pointed to in scripture. Indeed, one of the members of the Trinity is of particular importance to Quakers, for it was said from quite early days that what moved them in worship was the Holy Spirit (among other terms). Precisely what the relationship is between the members of the Trinity, however, would be a notion.

Doing It Ourselves

I've heard it said, many times, that Quakerism is a “do it yourself” religion.

People usually seem to mean it one of two ways. In one of those ways, they are usually being broadly positive about the idea. In the other, people tend to give it a negative connotation.

The first, positive way refers to our lack of separate, particularly paid, clergy. We are all in it together, we all muck in to do the jobs that need doing. Whether it's spiritual nurture, pastoral care, administration or looking after our property, everything is a communal task. This is, I think, usually seen as a positive both in the sense of having thrown off the authority of the “hireling priests” and in the fact that it enriches our sense of community. It is also often used as an encouragement, even admonition, to encourage members of our community (whether in formal membership or not) to get involved and take on voluntary roles within the community.

A Quaker Easter Part 1: Communities

In the western liturgical calendar, this weekend is Easter. Orthodox (eastern) Easter is next weekend, in case you were curious. As such, this is a good time to continue my series of posts on “times and seasons”.

Quakers traditionally reject liturgical calendars, but increasingly, Friends observe the various holidays and festivals, whether sacred or secular, at least on a cultural basis. As I have observed before, however, the rejection of times and seasons is not a rejection of the idea of the holidays themselves, not a rejection of the stories and ideas behind them, but a rejection of the basic idea of “holy days”. No day is more sacred than any other; for Christian Friends, or for any who draw inspiration from Christian stories, no day is more appropriate than another for the remembrance of the story of Holy Week, the Last Supper, the Crucifixion on Resurrection, just the same as no day is more appropriate than any other for the remembrance of the Nativity, nor indeed for the remembrance of those lost in war or the struggle to achieve rights and equality for women.

God, Words and Us: A Reaction

The most procedurally important output of the Book of Discipline Revision Preparation Group (BoDRPG) is probably their report to Meeting for Sufferings; the most important in terms of the wider conversation, and of direct lasting impact, may well be God, Words and Us. This book is a record of some of the output of the “Theology Think Tank” that the BoDRPG set up to help prepare for the inevitable “theism/non-theism” question that would arise in any future revision. I have previously written some of my own reaction, on specific points – most notably my recent post “Theism vs Non-Theism”? – but this post is to record my own reaction to the book as a whole, having now finished reading it.

As I understand it, the purpose of the think tank was to support the BoDRPG, and thus the whole Yearly Meeting, in looking at different ways of approaching the “question” of theology and theological diversity. This is in part because of a perception that became apparent, that many Friends responding to consultation and conversation, or indeed in ministry at Yearly Meeting Gathering, were concerned that the degree and nature of that diversity would lead to strife within the Yearly Meeting were we to engage in a revision process. Of particular concern were that some might seek to remove any reference to God from the Quaker faith & practice, or that others might seek to introduce an acid test of theistic belief in the process of revision. Of course, others see a revision as an opportunity to diversify our language – not to remove Christian and otherwise theistic language, but to supplement it with other expressions of understanding of the Divine so that our “handbook” text reflects the diversity that is already there. There are also a few I've come across who would like to use the opportunity to solidify theistic – usually specifically Christian – underpinnings of the book; likewise, I cannot claim there are no Friends who would like to remove all traces of “God language” from the Book of Discipline, but this is not a significant current of thought that I am aware of, even in non-theist circles (an impression that finds support in some of David Boulton's contributions to the book, as noted below).

No Hands But Ours

In hardship, I do not expect God to help me.
For all change in this world comes through us, you must see.
As I hurt, as I fear, still I know I rely,
Upon care, upon love, those who suffer as I.

For such powers as may seek to watch and to aid,
Need our hands, need our voice, need our hearts not to fade.
We might wish, we might hope, as we nurse at our scars,
This I know, this I say, they have no hands but ours.