Quakers and Social Media

Photo includes trademarks that are the property of
their respective owners.

Love it or hate it, social media is now part of our world. It's not a purely western phenomenon, nor something restricted to “developed” economies. Not only is it prevalent in the so-called BRICS economies, or even the so-called “Next Eleven”, but it is increasingly a meaningful part of life in pretty much every country where it is available – and it’s available in more than you might think. We might look at how much our computers cost, in the Global Economic North, and the price of iPhones and their most direct competitors, and boggle at the idea that people in poorer countries have access, but remember that far more inexpensive phones exist. Companies want to make money from every population they can, and if that means finding a way to make it affordable to additional populations, that is what will happen. Also, it is worth remembering that every country, no matter how much poorer it may seem, has a wealthy elite. In fact, the biggest barrier to social media adoption in some parts of the world is not wealth, but literacy.

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.

Why Are We So Quiet?

This is written from the perspective of theologically pluralistic liberal Friends; I make no claims or assumptions either way of its validity to any other branch/wing of the Religious Society of Friends.

Why are we so scared of going out there and telling people about ourselves, suggesting that maybe they might like our way, were they to try it?

Is it that we are shy, culturally, corporately or individually? Our record on outspoken activism for peace, equality and justice says not.

Is it that we don't want new people in our Meetings? Maybe that is true for some; I have certainly heard some comments that seem to amount to that, reading between the lines. However, a great many of us are concerned about our numbers, about our sustainability. We cannot continue to do our work, follow our leadings, if we do not have the resources that ultimately come from there being people in our Meetings.

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.

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.

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).

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.

Why I Write a Quaker Blog

It's an interesting time to be a Quaker in Britain – and many other Yearly Meetings are having their own interesting times, albeit over different issues. Here in the UK people seem to worry about theological diversity, about falling numbers, about how we attract and nurture newcomers, about whether we are really giving all the spiritual nourishment we can. Among some pastoral Meetings across the Atlantic, there are also divisions on theology, and on how gender and sexual minorities are treated – welcomed, affirmed, or scorned. Of course, the latter point has a connection with the former, but which is at the forefront varies somewhat.

Here in Britain Yearly Meeting, we are faced with a call to revise our Book of Discipline, which some fear will bring painful differences to a head. We have a declining, ageing membership – where anecdotal reports suggest that many of our newly convinced Friends join us, as members or attenders, in middle age or later. We have quiet, but increasingly vocal concerns being expressed about the quality of our discipline in Quaker processes.

In this context, then, I will answer the question – why do I blog?

Spiritual "Zones of Proximal Development"

We have all of the ingredients we need for our
individual and collective development - we just
have to recognise them and work out how to
put them together.

Following some recent online discussions, I feel like it's worth spending another post exploring some learning theory, how it relates to Quaker practice – and what we can take from it to improve that practice. Previously, I wrote about communities of practice, and now I'll be looking at the idea of zones of proximal development.

ZPDs, as they are more concisely known, as a way of talking about what it is readily possible for a given learner to learn. There is what they already know, what they can already do, and there are those things that would be a struggle to attempt, and in between is the ZPD, the things that they can reasonably learn, or the things that they could do with help and guidance. This is a much simpler idea than communities of practice – in these last couple of sentences, the fundamentals of it are covered. Of course, there's more to it than that, but that's the basics all done. Given, in many spiritual situations, liberal Quakers' aversion to “teaching”, it might seem hard to apply this, but I think it has a particular application to spiritual development that doesn't require any sense of the didactic. It is this interpretation and application that I intend to explore in this post.

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”.

What Is "That of God in Every One"?

We often quote George Fox, but do we do so
without regard for what he meant?

One of the most well-known, and to many well-loved, traditional Quaker phrases is “that of God in every one”. Perhaps because of the advance of liberal sensibilities, perhaps because the phrase is used in isolation so often, rather than in its usually-cited context, the meaning of the phrase seems to have become rather woolly, disconnected from how it was originally meant, and – to my mind – less than useful.

Nowadays, people often seem to take it, or use it, to suggest that there is something good about each person, that there is something worthwhile or even laudable about each of us in this strange species we call “human”. That's an idea, as far as it goes, and it's often something worth pointing to, but people struggle with it when relating it to historical (or modern) figures in whom it is difficult to see any redeeming quality – be it serial killers, genocidal dictators, or ethically and morally bankrupt figures in business and politics. It's still valuable even then, as the reminder that there are essential principles to our treatment of people, now enshrined in law in many jurisdictions, that cannot be compromised however awful we think the people in question might be. However, it misses what I consider to be both the essence of what Fox likely meant in that famous quote, and the most useful interpretation we can put on it today.

Quaker Exotericism

There's a word in the title of this post that most readers probably won't be familiar with. So, let's clear that up first. Exoteric is simply the converse of esoteric – where the latter refers to things that are secret, or meaningful only to a select audience, possibly highly theoretical, the former refers to things that are for a general or universal audience. I suppose that, in wider use of the English language, there is a cultural assumption of exotericism, so only the esoteric needs to be referred to as such. However, it becomes clear as one spends time among Quakers that, in practice, our discourse and our activities are not really exoteric.

A recent piece of written ministry on this blog suggests that this is not essential to Quaker practice or theory; that our spiritual life should be accessible to all, not without effort but, perhaps, without bewilderment. And yet we have our own peculiar language, our own idioms, largely made up of relatively normal words being used in our own unique ways. This leading to bewilderment of newcomers or visitors is hardly surprising.

Look Beyond

You are not a Quaker because you are special.
It does not take any special ability or quality to live among Friends.
If your expressions of the Spirit are hard to understand,
That says more about you than it does the Spirit.

Everyone can understand the Light within,
Even if they cannot understand your description of it.

Everyone can learn to heed the prompting of the Divine,
Even if they cannot describe it in the terms you think proper.

The Quaker Way is not for all, but it is for all sorts.
No formal education or intellectual development prepares you,
To better apprehend what Love requires.
If your Meetings cannot show that power,
To the factory worker and street sweeper,
That is your failing, and not theirs.

But quiet your protestation.
Nor should you rush to guilt.
This is not to call you to tear down your house,
To build a new one that is without fault.
It is not to shame you
Or diminish you.

This is a call to wake up,
To look beyond your comfortable world,
Of people like you.

Written October 2017

Quaker Week

Once again, Quaker Week is here. This is a week that Quakers in Britain designate for Outreach, Friends House sets a theme, and all individual Quakers and Meetings are encouraged to run activities to help raise the profile of Quakers, inform and interest the general public, and just generally be “out there” more.

Outreach is a difficult topic for British Quakers. One of the first things I learned about Quakers could be summarised as “we do not proselytise”. Of course, I learned that in the context of liberal Quakers. Evangelical and pastoral branches of the world Quaker family are quite keen on proselytisation, especially (as you might expect) the evangelical branch. But liberal Quaker, especially the sort here in Britain, just don't go out and tell people they should be Quakers.

Yet, obviously thing we have something worth finding out about, and thus surely worth sharing. Anecdotally, it seems that those convinced in adulthood are growing, as a proportion of our Yearly Meeting, compared to those raised among Quakers. I'm sure someone has figures on that, but I don't have them to hand; in any case, that is the impression I, and others I know, have been getting over the last decade or so, at least in terms of people who are actively involved in Quaker goings-on. When you add our dwindling numbers and ageing demographics, it becomes clear that we would be both selfish and foolish not to try to share this wonderful thing we have found.

The Marvellous Fudge

Three friends, who loved to cook, were experimenting one day. They found themselves making a most marvellous fudge, the likes of which they had never tasted. Worried it was a fluke, they tried to repeat the recipe, and found they could reproduce it without great difficulty. Indeed, each attempt became easier, and produced gradually better results.

At once, the friends knew they had found something special, and wished to share it. They disagreed on how to do so, however.

The first friend approached everyone they knew, telling them how wonderful the fudge was. They spoke with such enthusiasm, however, and offered the fudge with such insistence, that people thought they were deranged, and very few accepted the fudge.

The second friend committed themselves to make all the fudge they could, and gave it away without comment. People accepted free fudge offered casually, and marvelled at it, but could appreciate it only occasionally when they came across it, as they could not reproduce it.

The third carefully wrote down the recipe, with detailed instructions. They experimented further, and made notes on what difference was found in the fudge with variations in the recipe. They made more fudge, of course, and offered it to people – but when people expressed appreciation for it, they offered them their recipe, and their notes. They even offered to help people when they tried the recipe for themselves.

And some of these people did try to make it, with help or on their own. And many succeeded. Some of those that succeeded shared the fudge in the manner of the first friend, and some in the manner of the second friend, and some in the manner of the third friend.

Written May 2016