Following Light, Purely?

I have heard it suggested that the most true and pure form of Quakerism would be to follow the Light “purely”, directly, with neither story, nor symbolism, nor any form of tradition. It certainly follows logically from the idea of our direct experience of the Divine (or God, Light, whatever you want to call it). In a sense, it might be the Platonic ideal of Quakerism.

The problem is, it isn’t really possible.

We do not live in a world of Platonic ideals. The ideal triangle, the ideal sphere, the ideal rock – all are beyond our grasp. The ideals of purely conceptual things are similarly beyond us (indeed, some would argue that all Platonic ideals are conceptual). We shall never attain ideal democracy, ideal equality, nor even ideal faith or ideal love.

So far, so general and dismissive, you might think. It is only fair to ask that I give more specific, concrete, practical reasons to object to such a theoretically laudable objective – for we would surely follow the Divine most faithfully if we were not impeded by preconceived ideas of its nature or how it might direct us. Of course, as the matters involved include cognition, my points will still be somewhat abstract, or at least not tangible, but they ought to be more concrete than “ideals are unattainable, therefore it can’t be done, quod erat demonstrandum” – which is, after all, not just snobbily dismissive, but also somewhat begging the question.

A Quaker Easter Part 2: Meaning

In yesterday's post, I looked at the role the celebrating or otherwise marking Easter might have within Quaker communities, and in terms of a Quaker community's relationship with the community in which it is situated. Today, I will continue the exploration of Easter, but on a more spiritual note. I will look at the story/stories behind Easter, its history, and what meaning we might take from it.

As I have explained previously, I think this is important for Quakers. This is because, where we observe the traditional testimony concerning times and seasons at all, we tend to only remember half of it. No day is more holy, or more significant than another, which is important. However, the early Friends did not reject the lessons and meaning of holy days, just their fastening to a particular day. The same argument applies to liturgical seasons. Thus, it would be taught that we do not observe Easter, or other holidays, but that we should remember the lessons and meaning of Easter all through the year.

Now, of course, with the cultural pervasiveness of many holidays, it is (in my experience) a rare Quaker that refuses any observance of the holidays at all, yet I see little deep engagement with the meanings of these festivals, whether at that time of the year or otherwise.

God, Words and Us: A Reaction

The most procedurally important output of the Book of Discipline Revision Preparation Group (BoDRPG) is probably their report to Meeting for Sufferings; the most important in terms of the wider conversation, and of direct lasting impact, may well be God, Words and Us. This book is a record of some of the output of the “Theology Think Tank” that the BoDRPG set up to help prepare for the inevitable “theism/non-theism” question that would arise in any future revision. I have previously written some of my own reaction, on specific points – most notably my recent post “Theism vs Non-Theism”? – but this post is to record my own reaction to the book as a whole, having now finished reading it.

As I understand it, the purpose of the think tank was to support the BoDRPG, and thus the whole Yearly Meeting, in looking at different ways of approaching the “question” of theology and theological diversity. This is in part because of a perception that became apparent, that many Friends responding to consultation and conversation, or indeed in ministry at Yearly Meeting Gathering, were concerned that the degree and nature of that diversity would lead to strife within the Yearly Meeting were we to engage in a revision process. Of particular concern were that some might seek to remove any reference to God from the Quaker faith & practice, or that others might seek to introduce an acid test of theistic belief in the process of revision. Of course, others see a revision as an opportunity to diversify our language – not to remove Christian and otherwise theistic language, but to supplement it with other expressions of understanding of the Divine so that our “handbook” text reflects the diversity that is already there. There are also a few I've come across who would like to use the opportunity to solidify theistic – usually specifically Christian – underpinnings of the book; likewise, I cannot claim there are no Friends who would like to remove all traces of “God language” from the Book of Discipline, but this is not a significant current of thought that I am aware of, even in non-theist circles (an impression that finds support in some of David Boulton's contributions to the book, as noted below).

A Quaker Lent

If we are to examine Lent in a meaningful way, it should be in
connection to the story from which it derives – Christ's time in
the wilderness – whether that is part of our own belief
structure or not.

For a liturgical practice that is so drawn-out, Lent has a considerable degree of penetration into minimally-observant Christian society in Britain, and even into the lives of the completely irreligious. It doesn't have TV adverts exhorting us to excessive consumption, and it doesn't have a big punchy festival, although it leads up to one. But in my experience, a simplistic conception based on the traditional Lenten Fast is still fairly pervasive in British society.

As my regular readers will be aware, I have a recurring thesis in these posts – upholding the sense of the Quaker testimony concerning times and seasons, but seeking to see what Quakers might take from them to inform personal spiritual practice. Here, I shall apply that principle once again – to Lent.

Everyone Can Draw Meaning From Christmas

The Adoration of the Shepherds, Gerard van Honthorst

As explored in my pantheons and archetypes series (which I hope to return to in the new year, when I decide which archetype to look at next), I very much believe that all Quakers, whatever their theological tendencies, can benefit from consideration of the ideas and stories from different faiths and traditions. When I say this, I don't just mean that Christian and non-theist Friends should look at ancient pagan traditions – I also mean that non-Christians should look at Christian traditions and stories. This time of year is a great opportunity to give an example of this, how the stories of Christmas can be spiritually meaningful to anyone, regardless of the extent to which they believe in them.

It's really quite a story, when you think about it. We're going to get into a bit of history for this, and I'm no expert on this stuff, so I've probably gotten some stuff subtly (or horribly) wrong, but the general sense should be accurate enough. The context is of a faith community and society that is living under a fair degree of repression, albeit sporadic, by a foreign power – and that has a history of oppression and forced migration present in both their written and oral histories. That foreign power, Rome, is habitually tolerant of the religious preferences of their subject and client populations, within certain limitations. One of the absolute limits was human sacrifice, which is not relevant here, but one of the practical limits was that the religion had to be somehow compatible with the Roman state religion. Monotheistic cultures could be okay, as they might acknowledge the validity of other deities while cleaving strongly to their own. The Jewish faith, however, resisted the idolatry they saw in even acknowledging other faiths, and while the Roman habit would be to let them have their faith, they found that exclusivity uncomfortable.

Pantheons and Archetypes: Wisdom

In an earlier post, I wrote about the role of pantheons in various faiths, and how liberal Quakers might find them useful in their own spiritual approach and practice. This post is the first of what I hope will be a series – if there is enough interest in them – of looking at specific cases of this principle, specific archetypes and the deities that evoke them in various pantheons. This will include ways that Friends might find meaningful to incorporate these ideas in their own practice, if they feel so inclined.

In this first such post, I will consider the archetype of the wisdom deity. Wisdom is, in this case, distinct from knowledge, and somewhat distinct from intellect – in that some examples we will consider see the ideas of wisdom and intellect as more interconnected, and some less. Wisdom is not related to the acquisition of knowledge, but may be related to the ability to put together information to come to an appropriate conclusion, and is generally related to the ability to determine the right course to take beyond a simple optimisation of the outcome – looking past immediate objectives to peripheral or longer-term results.

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.