Sun and Clouds

The Spirit is like the sun. It is always there, its light shining always and in every direction, as bright one moment as any other. But like the sun, it does not always seem as bright to us from day to day, or hour to hour, or moment to moment – though even to our perception, there is no night of the Spirit.

What, then, are the clouds that make the sun seem dim or obscure? Perhaps our own condition: both the things that we do that put that separation between us and the Divine, that make us blind or deaf to it until we have put our own spirit in better condition, and the things that we have less control over – our state of mind, the distractions of our daily life, tiredness or busy-ness. Perhaps also something outside ourselves that is pure chance, like the behemoths and the wisps of sparse droplets of water and ice crystals that we see in the sky.

Maxim 17

On Sexuality

People get hung up a lot on sexuality. What does it mean? Is it an abstract element of our being, or does it describe what we are attracted to, what interests us sexually? The word is used for both. When someone says that people should celebrate or nurture their sexuality, they don't always mean their sexual orientation – and some people object to the word orientation there, for a range of reasons.

For now, I am using the word sexuality to mean all of that, and perhaps more. It is that part of us that desires that sort of physical intimacy. It is about the sort of intimacy we desire. It is what we like to do, and the sort of person we like to do it with. It is even involved in things we do entirely on our own. It is what we do, it is what we want, it is what we dream of.

Aphorism 2

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.

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.

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.

What do Quakers Mean by "Holding in the Light"?

It is something of a pat phrase, among Quakers, to respond to the difficulty of others by offering to “hold them in the light”. I do not mean by this that we do not do anything else to help people in difficulty, or that such holding is not appreciated. Indeed, it is equally common, in my experience, for Friends to ask others to hold them in the light as they face adversity.

Like many Quaker phrases, however, it serves to obscure the divergence of understanding among liberal Friends. We do not explain what we mean when we use it, and rarely discuss what we mean by it at other times. It is clear that there are a range of meanings Friends ascribe to the saying, and even where people have similar conceptions of the Divine, they may not mean the same thing when they offer to hold someone in the light.

In this post I will explore some of the different interpretations of this phrase that I have come across, looking at what connects them and what differentiates them. I will also, naturally, explain my take on the matter.

The Luminous Numinous

We use lots of terms to talk about the Divine, and some are more or less comfortable with different words and phrases. Some will never use a certain term except when quoting, and others have a favoured term that they use in preference to any other.

In my experience, though, the one that is most widely acceptable is Light. It might sometimes be dressed up as the “Light of Christ”, or otherwise specified as the “Inner Light”, but Light is a popular term in many forms and permutations.

There is no accident to that metaphor. Light describes it very well. What does light do?

Business Method & Theological Diversity - Mystical Nontheism

This is the fourth and, at least for now, final post in the series Quaker Business Method and Theological Diversity. If you haven't already, you will get the most out of this post if you read the opening post in the series. That post will also include links to all other posts in the series as they are posted. Reading the second and third posts as well would be an advantage, but it's the opening post that's important, as it sets the context.

I am not a strict materialist. While my experiences of the Divine lead to me conclude that it does not have those characteristics I describe as theistic – personality, however far removed from our own, identity, being willing and able to act directly in the world as we know it – there's certainly something, though I regard it as entirely impersonal. A force of nature, albeit a force for good, rather than a godly figure.

The best description I have ever come up with for this conception of the Divine came as written ministry, and I have never been able to put it better through deliberate action. As such, while it is available as its own post on this blog, I reproduce it here:

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”.

Light

There is a light in each of us.

We call it by many names – Inner Light, Holy Spirit, Divine Principle, the Light of Christ, and many more besides. Still, it is the same light in each of us, and if we can heed its promptings, it will show us the way to right actions – how we arrange our own affairs, how we are to govern our community, and how to act with love towards all.

When we gather in the silence, each of us willing to heed that light, it grows in us. Each light grows, reaching to one another, joining and binding us, allowing us to know it, and one another, with greater joy and clarity than we ever could without it.

Written December 2016