Reflection on ‘Maxim 4’ (Fox is no authority)

“Fox is no greater authority than you or I, nor was his access to the true authority any greater than ours.”
–Maxim 4

I was not surprised that this one was controversial for some Friends. I suppose I wish I were surprised, but really I was more relieved that it seemed very few found it challenging.

George Fox is often spoken of as the founder of the Religious Society of Friends. He was certainly a charismatic leader (and for those into Christian theology, that applies in both the everyday and technical sense), and the proto-Quakers of the North West of England did coalesce around him. Yet it is in the very nature of what he taught – and he wasn’t the only one teaching it, mind you – that we not ascribe authority to other people. The message being shared by various spiritual teachers of the time, including Fox, was that we all had access to the ultimate source of teaching and authority. Not only did we not need intercessory priests, as asserted by Luther and Calvin, but every single one of us could sit down and find the still small voice within, and know some measure of God’s guidance and God’s will (at the time, there would have been no question as to whether or not it should be identified as such).

Reflection on ‘Maxim 3’ (No system of formal ethics)

“No system of formal ethics can properly account for the range of human experience.”
–Maxim 3

This is an interesting one to approach, because one has to understand the phrase “system of formal ethics”. I assume, as the ministry came through me, that it should be understood through the lens of my own understanding at the time. After all, I do not get the sense that ministry is literally words being put in our mouths (or at our hands); it is, rather, a sense of knowledge or the shape of an idea that makes use of our own faculties to be recorded. It is in this way that ministry also comes in the form of verse or visual artwork. This does not mean that the person through whom the ministry is delivered understands it fully, of course – rather that they have better context than others, perhaps, for discerning the meaning of specific terms. It’s important to know that sometimes that context gives little overall insight, but when it comes to what a phrase means, there are certainly times that it is helpful.

(There are also times when ministry comes in a way that adamantly insists on certain words being used without conscious understanding of why on the part of the person through which it comes. That is not the usual situation, in my experience, but it is not uncommon.)

Recognising and Supporting Ministry

We always say, and have said for some time (not without scriptural authority, though I sometimes think that one of the favourites is being twisted a little away from its intended meaning) that there are many gifts of the Spirit. These are abilities that we might put into use in the service of Truth, usually now meaning in service of our Meetings. However, liberal Meetings have largely grown away from recognising certain gifts. I speak, of course, of gifts of ministry.

It is necessary here to digress slightly into what we mean by “ministry”. It is a wonderful word, quite rich in its meaning before we Quakers came along and bent it into new shapes, albeit ones not inconsistent with the history or etymology of the time. It is derived from the Latin ministerium, meaning the office of a minister. Of course, what is meant by that term in Latin would not necessarily be terribly recognisable to modern English speakers. In countries where governmental terms derive from Britain (but a more recent divergence than that of the United States), a minister is a member of a government, generally one with considerable power – or at least who likes to think they have. Certainly they tend to have plenty of underlings. Of course, they are led by a prime minister, often conceived of as a first among equals but generally speaking the head of the executive element of government. In many faiths, we have ministers of religion, who tend to exercise authority over their flock in some way. A third major instance of the term, much less familiar to most people nowadays, is in the world of diplomacy. There, it is the usual short form for the title envoy extraordinary and minister plenipotentiary, and obsolete but still technically extant diplomatic rank used for the heads of missions that were rated as legations, a lower status than an embassy (which is naturally headed by an ambassador). There was also, going further back, a further rank of minister resident, for missions ranked below legations – often from or to states that existed de facto rather than de jure, or otherwise poor or unimportant polities. Since the growing value of the UN in the 60s, sovereign states now generally only create embassies as their diplomatic missions, unless there are not full diplomatic relations between them. In that case, a mission led by a chargé d'affaires en pied will be established, if anything. In that case, the head of mission is accredited between the foreign ministers involved, rather than between heads of state.

Aphorism 11

Our Unjust Pride

Quakers are proud of our historical support for important issues of social justice – prison welfare, slavery, women's rights. I wonder if we would be so proud if we understood properly the history of these things.

For some issues, we have truly been leaders, at least among religious communities. We have been at the forefront of acceptance and welcome for non-heterosexuality, though it still took us longer than, we may think in hindsight, it might. I don't know enough to say either way about the work of Elizabeth Fry, among others, on prison welfare. But to take the example of slavery and women's rights, two that Quakers are particularly proud of (especially on the western side of the Atlantic), we shouldn't be so proud of.

It's not that we were on the wrong side of history. And it's not that we weren't ahead of a lot of other people. It's that we had the call, delivered as usual by individual Friends, and we resisted it.

The Sanctity of Discernment?

A bench in the Meeting House at Scattergood Friends School,
Iowa. Photo by David Morris, used under CC-BY 2.0 license.

Discernment, the process of making decisions or otherwise being guided by the Spirit (usually through the Quaker Business Method), is extremely important to Quakers. It is probably the most significant practical application of faith among liberal Friends – our faith that we will be guided, our faith that we have faithfully discerned that guidance. In both a practical and emotional sense, it is one of the most fundamental cornerstones of our faith tradition.

It is also, though we may hate to admit it, a source of difficulty. For if a decision or statement, a determination or a course of action, is based on divine guidance, who can gainsay it?

Yet is something, once discerned, settled for all time? Plainly not, or the history of our Religious Society could not be as it is. And indeed, two Meetings might be approaching the same question at the same time, be in very similar traditions, even be part of the same Yearly Meeting – or even some closer association, such as Local Meetings in the same Area Meeting, in the organisational structure of Britain Yearly Meeting, or Monthly Meetings in the same Quarter as some other Yearly Meetings arrange things. They might be close neighbours in close accord on many things, both faithfully follow our business method regarding the same question, and reach different conclusions. How can this not call into question our faith – our trust in this process, in the guidance of the Spirit – indeed, call it into question at its very foundations?

Aphorism 7

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.

On Titles

One of the little details of Quaker practice that is not completely unheard of outside of Quaker circles – though that does not mean it is well-known – is our rejection of titles. That is to say, we traditionally do not use such things as “Mr”, “Mrs”, “Miss” etc., preferring to simply use names.

There are several reasons behind this. One is our view of equality; especially in the society in which the Quaker movement developed, a huge range of titles existed and reinforced the expected structure of society, of social interactions, and of status. Nobility was still considered important by many, and the titles of right or of courtesy that went with them were often insisted on. Titles and styles related to offices under the crown, such as “judge” or “doctor” (usually for those who have achieved a certain degree of study – academic doctors or doctors of divinity – rather than physicians) were important, and people of standing who could claim neither noble nor official title often sought a knighthood. Those entitled to the style of “esquire”, not a general formal term as it is now in the UK, nor a term conventionally restricted to certain professions as it is now in the US, would often insist upon its use. As such, the rejection of titles stands for a rejection of the formal and conventional delineations of standing and status, as well as of the forms that derive from them (such as the giving of hat-honour, one of the most noted rejections of convention among early Friends).

The Fire Inside

There's a fire inside me.

It burns to make the world better. It burns to help those I care about, and to help those I do not know.

It burns to drive me forward. It burns to sustain me in adversity. It burns to tell me I'm still alive.

Though I am assailed and dismissed, the fire burns.

Though I am unfairly accused, the fire burns.

Though I am misrepresented, the fire burns.

Though some seek to obstruct me, the fire burns.

Though I may be unnoticed, the fire burns.

Though I fail or fall, the fire burns.

True Inspiration

Many Friends find great value in reading the writings of early Friends. This is understandable. Some of it inspiring, some is intellectually very interesting. Some borders on being incoherent, but overall the hit rate is pretty good.

It is important to treat such writings with some caution, however. As early Friends wrote in the heat of the new inspiration they had found, we may read them hoping to catch a little of that inspiration. While it may inspire us, however, it is nothing like the inspiration that led to those writings.

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.

The Death of Fox

From the title of this post, you might have supposed that it was going to be a sort of tailpiece biography, covering the time shortly before and after the actual death of George Fox. Another possible interpretation would be that I was, out of all character, joining in with the sporadic habit of some Quakers online, bemoaning how unlike Fox most Quakers are today.

In either case, I'm afraid you're going to be disappointed. Rather, it is a reference to The Death of the Author, an essay by the French literary critic and author Roland Barthes (it's original French title itself being a play on the title of Le Mort d'Arthur, but that's too tangential a path for me to dive down here), and of the literary theory concepts that derive from it.

The essential principle of the essay, and the related (but separately posited) theory of the “intentional fallacy”, is that the author is not the authority when it comes to the meaning of a piece of work. Once an author has created a work, they might tell you what their intent was, you might infer it from other sources, but intent is not the determining factor of meaning. I don't say that this theory is universally accepted in the study of literature; I also probably don't understand it perfectly, not having studied literary theory or analysis, so please don't rely on my explanation (or lecture me too harshly if you know it better – I'm glad to learn more, but please keep it friendly).

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?”

Spiritual Accompaniment

I had a hard time, sitting down to write this post, with how I was going to refer to what I'm trying to talk about. It's a difficult idea. Three terms came up in conversations, in reading, or in thinking about things. What I'm talking about is certainly related to the priestly vocation, the calling that is considered in mainstream clergy to be a call to the priesthood – but we have no separate priesthood; we have rather a priesthood of all believers, and unlike some other groups with something approaching such a priesthood, we do very little to emphasise a priestly role for some over others in the liberal branch of the Religious Society of Friends. It's also related to the idea of the teaching ministry, a term in mainstream Christianity (and in some less mainstream churches) for the service given by suitably qualified members of the faith community in shepherding and guiding the spiritual development of their companions in their faith. A term perhaps more comfortable for liberal Quakers is spiritual accompaniment, which means much the same – in terms of goals – as teaching ministry, but with less implication of a didactic approach.

Whatever term you might prefer, the idea is this – that sometimes we need help from another person on our spiritual journeys, not just the help of the inward teacher, and perhaps that some people are suited or called to that work, perhaps only for a time.

Standing Up for Quaker Groundedness

In an earlier post, I argued that Quaker practice is essentially mystical. I stand by that point. However, it is also clear that this is not all there is to Quakerism. While my meaning of mysticism in that post is quite clear, there are connotations of mysticism that are unavoidable for many, and that jar with Quaker teaching. In this post, I will outline what those connotations are, why they jar in the minds of many Quakers, and why it is important that they continue to do so.

As I previously discussed, mysticism has the connotation of some of the more ill-defined spirituality approaches of the modern age, including New Age practices, conjuring images of billowing robes and the power of crystals. Even aside from that, people might think of the stylites, Christian ascetics who lived on pillars, believing that the mortification of their bodies would lead to the sanctification of their souls. It may even lead to poorly understood images of South Asian fakirs, beds of nails, that sort of thing. Overall, a lack of concern for the material or every day things of life. Even the understanding of mysticism that I argue fits Quakers, that of seeking through religious or spiritual efforts to attain spiritual understanding not accessible to the purely rational mind, has no obvious connection to the life that we live, to practical concerns. And yet it is the Quaker experience that our spiritual life drives decisions and actions in our practical life, and many if not most would say that the spiritual life is hollow if not accompanied by the practical life.

On Reliance On The Spirit

The Spirit is wonderful, marvellous, awesome – very much in the truest senses of those words. It astounds us, surprises us, fills us with wonder; we marvel at the things we can achieve with its assistance; we stand in awe of the things we are shown in its power.

Pantheons and Archetypes

Quaker tradition is rooted in, incontrovertibly derives from, Christian tradition. Much of our traditional language was alien to Christians of the time, but likewise much of it was reassuring and familiar, and many Quaker concepts derive directly from biblical sources – albeit rather unconventional interpretations of them. However, especially in the liberal branch of the worldwide Quaker family, we have also added insights, ideas and language from other traditions. Those that, in my experience, have most permeated British Quakerism in terms of language would be from Buddhism. “Mindful”, and words related to it, would seem a key example; these seem to drop from Quaker lips as readily as Christian references, and the practice of mindfulness has Buddhist roots, as well as being very much in vogue in the world of mental health and well-being. Other south Asian traditions get a look in as well, and there's a fair amount of non-specific nature-worship related ideas and language as well.

In this post, however, I will be focussing on the idea of pantheon-based faiths, and what we could draw from them. This isn't an area I hear or read much about in Quaker thought, but it often comes to mind for me. Of course, I live with someone who was massively into ancient Greek and Roman (mostly Roman) culture and mythology when she was a kid, and I have many friends and acquaintances who identify with or practice various neo-pagan faiths, so that may not be a surprise.

This is going to get a bit rambling, but please bear with me – it does all come around to add up to something in the end.

Again, and Again, and Again

Do you come to me asking for rules?

You will not receive them.

Simple algorithms, “if this, then that”,

Are not the fruit of the spirit.

Come to me with questions that are timely,

When you need an answer,

When the choice is before you.

Come to me for inspiration,

For principles,

For paths and pathfinders.

Do not come to me for maps.

 

For the land you would navigate cannot be mapped, being ever-changing.

The wisdom you would understand cannot be stated, being complex beyond your ken.

The rules that determine right action cannot be written, though you covered every page in every book in all the world.

You cannot take from me and then never need me again; if you would know how I would have you act, you must ask again, and again, and again.

Written August 2017