Revision: Hopes and Fears

Well, the time is almost here. Again.

Britain Yearly Meeting, taking place this coming weekend, has managed to draw a little press attention, both specialist and general (paywall), regarding the question of whether to revise our Book of Discipline. So I thought I'd take another little look at the whole matter.

Firstly, both of the linked pieces put an unreasonable focus on specific elements of change that Friends think might happen in a revision process. One focuses on environmental matters and gender & sexuality; the other focuses on the suggestion that we might remove “God” (or, they acknowledge, maybe just reduce the use of the term). These are all things that will be live issues if the revision goes ahead, to be sure, but they miss the key point of revision.

Why Write?

It's an interesting question to consider, why anyone would write for others to read. Writing to make a living requires not only talent and dedication, but also a fair dose of luck – the better you are, the less luck you need, but you will always need luck. So writing with the express intention to make money from it is either foolish, or optimistic (or perhaps better to say “hopeful”).

I felt moved to write about why I write when, as I do from time to time, I was re-reading a collection of essays by Isaac Asimov. Most of these collections are compilations of his regular science fact feature from The Magazine of Fantasy & Science Fiction (often referred to simply as F&SF, though that is subject to confusion with a description of a literary genre), which might be billed as science fact, but often contained things that took a certain departure from that brief. Each essay begins, almost invariably, with some anecdote from Asimov's own experience.

"Theism vs Non-Theism"?

Within liberal Quakerism, and particularly concerning theological diversity, an area of particular tension has been what some have described as “theism/non-theism”, or even (as in the rather provocative title of this piece) “theism vs non-theism”.

For those of you not involved in British Quakerism (or, if you are, have been living under some sort of rock), I should say that, a couple of years ago, Quakers in Britain started a process of considering revising our book of discipline, Quaker faith & practice. This involved appointing a group to prepare us for making a decision about revision, and to lay some groundwork and preparation for any such revision – knowing that there will have to be a revision at some point in the future. The “Book of Discipline Revision Preparation Group” (BoDRPG) recently reported on their work with a recommendation to Meeting for Sufferings that Sufferings, in turn, recommend to Yearly Meeting that a revision process begin. Their recommendations had a lot of specifics about how this might be done, the order to do things in, and reflections on perceived risks (the meeting papers in question are available online, if you'd like to look at them yourself).

One of these perceived risks was related to theological diversity – particularly the question of non-theism. In order to help address this, they set up a “theology think tank”, with suitable Friends asked to be involved in discussions around theological diversity in Britain Yearly Meeting. They produced a reasonable volume of material published in the recent volume God, Words and Us (which is one of the various books I am currently working my way through – but I'm finding it very good so far), and also gave their own concluding notes that are included in the BoDRPG report to Sufferings.

Quaker Business Method and Theological Diversity

Swarthmoor Hall was a major centre in the early years of
Quakers as an organised movement.

In its origin, the idea behind the Quaker Business Method was very simple, if audacious – that by waiting in silence, with minds turned to both the problem at hand and to God, we could come to know God's will, that we might act based on it. Audacious or not, and whatever uncertainty anyone might express as to whether we truly acted based on divine guidance, we know from experience that it works. It may not work perfectly, and goodness knows not quickly, but done faithfully, it works – and has significant advantages over voting or consensus decision-making.

But we aren't in the early days of the Religious Society of Friends now. Across the liberal wing of the world family of Friends, and in parts of the conservative and pastoral sections as well, conventional Christianity, or any belief in a theistic God, is not a given. Some of those Friends who hold to a conventional, theistic view of God feel uncomfortable undertaking this solemn, religious exercise alongside those who openly do not believe in such a God. This is a situation that will need to be resolved, one way or another, in Britain Yearly Meeting – and I imagine there are similar situations in other liberal Yearly Meetings.

Purpose, Practice and Structure

Quaker faith & practice, essentially the handbook of Britain Yearly
Meeting, devotes considerable space to the structures of different
tiers of the YM, AMs and LMs, the expectations of various roles,
and so forth.

In a recent blog on the website of Britain Yearly Meeting (BYM), Alistair Fuller suggests that we might benefit from re-examining our structures and practices, to make sure that they serve us and our faith, rather than vice versa. As a response to that post, and being British myself, this post is very much written from a BYM perspective. The way different roles are broken down between different positions and committees, and the terms used for them, will vary between different YMs, and will be even more different in programmed traditions. As such, there's no attempt at all to put an international perspective on the specifics – I'd love to hear about how this works differently in different places in the comments section.

As Alistair writes,

“Many of us are deeply familiar with these structures and indeed can find great comfort and reassurance in them. But might there also be something about the shape and structure of our Quaker communities – locally and nationally – that makes them difficult to access for many people?

Is there sometimes something about our ways of working that seems to stifle the Spirit, rather than creating the space for it to flourish and speak?”

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.

Belief, Experience, Conception, Communication, Understanding

In an excellent blog post, Craig Barnett (no relation) recently wrote about the limitations of thinking of faith in terms of belief; rather than a conventional, simplistic view of belief leading to action, a better description – especially for Quakers – is of a cycle, practice leading to experience leading to community leading back to practice. Personally, I think that cycle should be bi-directional, but generally I think this is a good model, as far as it goes.

People, however, have a habit of thinking about things, not to mention talking about things (even if sometimes they don't do it in that order). It is when we talk about our experiences that our language, our choice of words and what we mean by them, our choice of phrases and references, brings something else to the fore, which we tend to refer to as “belief” – how we refer to God/the Divine/the numinous/the Spirit/whatever, the characteristics implicit in the terms we use, create the picture of what the speaker believes in.

For many liberal Quakers, however, theology – questions of the nature of the Divine – is a nebulous thing. I have heard many take a partially agnostic view, that whatever the Divine is in incomprehensible to us, fundamentally unknowable, which is a position with which I agree. The words we use don't reflect the kind of certainty that “belief” implies, when used in a religious context; rather, they are our groping after meaning that reflects our experience and attempts at understanding, indefinitely provisional. They are the shadows on the wall of the cave. So, if they don't reflect belief, what do they reflect?

The Need for Constant Rediscovery

As Quakers, we have a wonderful, rich history, full of learning. We have discovered principles and practices that guide us in our spiritual life and our secular life; indeed, ideally the two should become increasingly indistinguishable. There a centuries of Quaker writing to inform and edify.

And yet the very start of the Quaker story was railing against empty forms and notions. The idea that confession of the creed and going through the motions at church weren't enough, not even for those who tried to live virtuously and believed sincerely. Today, we wouldn't make a blanket assertion of this, but it is our experience for ourselves that true religious experience derives only from seeking to know the Divine for ourselves, and acting in the world out of sincere conviction stemming from this knowledge – not from acceptance of knowledge and teachings received from others, however wise and insightful. The story of Penn's Sword, however dubious its historicity, is an illustration of this principle; while wearing a sword was contrary to Quaker testimony, Fox did not urge Penn to abandon it until it was a matter of personal conviction for him. Even as a parable, this story is a great illustration of this principle, along with the complementary fact that, if we are open to it, the Spirit can transform us.

I Look To The Future

I look to the future of the Society of Friends. I see a thriving community of faith, where a great range of experience, of thought, of ideas are share. I see all celebrating the experience of each other, expressed authentically in the terms that fit that experience. I see each offering received in the sense in which it is offered, and difference a source of joy, celebration, and learning. I see a force for good in the world, speaking truth to power, uplifting the downtrodden and including the excluded. A voice in the wilderness crying out and being heard.

But I also see a community divided and dwindling, self-righteous, homogeneous and ageing. I see Friends become enemies, jealously guarding their own conceptions and sure of the superiority of their experience. A Society consumed more with its inward concerns, having been consumed by its inward turmoil. A Society that still cares for the outer world, but robbed of the power to speak to it, to act in it effectively. A voice in the wilderness muted and forgotten.

No future is real until it is reached, and thus both of these future lie before us now. Our Religious Society strides on, not knowing where it will reach; a hundred small decisions will bring us to the future we choose, even if that choice is made blindly.

For as I see these futures, as clear views of hilltops in the distance, I cannot see the streams and forests and valleys between where we are now, and where we might be. Yet setting our sights upon the future we would reach, and listening to the promptings of love and truth in our hearts, we may find our way to the future we desire. Trusting in that which guides us, and in our fellow travellers, we may together reach a fruitful destination. Distrust and contention are natural, and unavoidable, yet I feel in my heart that it is those that will, unchecked and unmanaged, lead us to the future we would choose to avoid.

Written October 2017

The Contemporary Quaker Maze

We are in a maze.

The hedges are tall, and we cannot see over them.

None of us can see where the paths lead, where the exits are, or even where those exits go.

Some claim to have glimpses of the path, and warn us of the perils of taking the wrong one.

Some tell us of the joys to come when we find our way out, and some tell of the horrors.

Some tell us the maze is wonderful, and we shouldn’t want to leave.

The only way we will know for sure is to make our choice and see what happens.

We can, however, get the lay of the land. While the hedges are tall, and we cannot see over them, none of us is here alone.

We can lift one another, stand upon shoulders, and we can see over the hedges.

We cannot see far, we cannot see clearly, but by working together and trusting one another, we can see something.

Written September 2017