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.

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.

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.

Standing Up for Quaker Mysticism

“Mysticism”. It's an odd word. You think of “mystic” as a noun, and you might get a lot of odd mental images – fakirs and gurus, new age crystal-power proponents in billowing robe-like dresses, and maybe, if you happen to know about them, perhaps Christian ascetics on pillars in the desert. You will find people talking about the Religious Society of Friends as a mystical tradition, but rarely and obliquely in our official literature. Are we mystical, and if so, why don't we talk about it much?

A good starting point, that may say much about the matter, is consider the general meanings attributed to “mysticism”. Those found in online references fall largely into two areas. The first is that union with God/the Divine/whatever, or otherwise hidden insights, are attainable through contemplation, meditation, self-surrender and so forth. The second, more disparaging sense refers to vague or ill-defined belief, including in the popular supernatural or stereotypical occult. One can clearly see in the first definition why Quaker tradition, especially in the unprogrammed traditions, might be considered mystical, and just as clearly in the second definition why Friends might be reluctant to use it.

Outward Silence, Inward Silence

Silence is a deep part of Quaker tradition. The early Friends met in silence, waiting upon the Spirit, and so we meet today. But the silence is the means, not the end; contact with the Divine is the hope, the aspiration, the goal of Quaker worship. The outward silence is a tool; stillness and absence of distraction makes it easier to reach that place inside you where that eternal and universal Presence that binds and strengthens us all can be known.

Do not rely on the outward silence. Cultivate the inward silence. Learn your way to that feeling within, where you connect to the Presence, where you know the Spirit, where you realise your nature as part of the Divine. Then you can know that life and power wherever you are and whatever you face, be guided by and strengthened by it, and doubts and fears will cease to control you.

Written October 2017

Fountains and Plumbing

It will be familiar to most Friends that spoken ministry flows forth from some like fountains, others in occasional bursts, and still others never find themselves speaking in worship.

But a fountain does not function alone. The water that is the Spirit is brought to the fountain by pipes, perhaps helped along by pumps, and just in this manner the whole worshipping community helps along the Spirit, whoever happens to be the mouthpiece.

Yet still, ours is a transformative faith, and our pumps and pipes should not assume that is always to be their role, vital as it is. If we allow it, the Spirit may transform a pipe, even the deepest buried, into a wondrous fountain, that we may all appreciate the beauty and bounty of it – be it for a day, or for years to come.

Written May 2017

What is your Penn's Sword?

I have often heard the story of Penn's sword held up as an example, however apocryphal it might be, of the transformative power of the Spirit in our lives, if we are open to it.

To me, it is much more than that. It raises to each of us a question – what is there, in each of our lives, that we are wearing as long as we can. Perhaps it is profligacy – foreign travel or imported fresh food that harm the environment, vain fripperies to enhance our appearance, or gadgets owned for their own sake, rather than their utility. Perhaps it is hate, wishing harm to others however justified it may seem, or jealousy, wishing others to lose things because we cannot share in them. Perhaps it is pride or ambition, the desire to be lauded or thought indispensable.

What change may the spirit work in each of us, if we let it?

Written May 2017

Righteous Transformation

I am told that Friends are made uncomfortable when one Friend ministers often, when that ministry feels like a sermon, when it asks what we should be doing, asks whether we are truly doing as we should.

Do we come to worship for comfort? Certainly, I'm sure many of us have experienced a meeting where we came full of doubt, pain, or fear, and we were held, sheltered and uplifted by the Spirit as shown in that meeting, in the ministry of Friends, and in the invisible yet palpable love of the Spirit itself, brought close to us by the faithful waiting of the meeting.

Yet as we are a gathered people, we are not gathered for our own comfort and uplifting. We are gathered to be made a people of God. That does not mean, for us, going through prescribed motions, as in the liturgies of mainstream churches. Nor does it mean merely helping and uplifting one another. Nor is it enough to take the spirit of righteous transformation into the world, exciting our efforts to mend it.

Righteous transformation must begin with us, and is never done with us. None of us shall ever attain our full potential as children of the Light. Faithfulness to that Light means ever striving, within our faith community, to make it reflect light and love, and yes, to comfort those who will benefit from comfort; in our wider community, to relieve suffering and share the fruits of the Light; and also in ourselves, to let the Light fill us, and transform us, and never think we have reached a final destination.

This does not mean that we have failed, or that we are not good enough. Were that so, none could succeed, and none would be good enough. In the Spirit, love flows freely to all who will take it.

Written March 2017