Good vs Evil: Nontheism and Dualism

Some expressions of Christianity are what is termed dualist: they are concerned with the adversarial nature of a divine Lord of good, in the form of God (and the Trinity), and a diabolical lord of evil, in the form of the devil, Satan, Lucifer, or the adversary, to give it a few of the more common names it is known by. All, or almost all are dualist in at least a purely moral sense – there is good and evil, even if there is not a personification of evil in opposition to a personification of good.

Quaker non-theists take a range of positions on the nature of that which our theistic Friends generally (and some non-theists) call ‘God’. Generally speaking, those who consider themselves non-theists (or who might be analytically classified as such) do not accept the idea of God as an entity with personality or personhood, but we recognise something in ourselves which we identify to some extent with what others call ‘God’.

Likewise, theistic Christian Quakers (neither Christianity nor theism inevitably follows from the other in practice, among Quakers) have a range of views about the devil, though among liberal Friends the identification of it as an adversarial persona with true power in opposition to God is relatively unusual. Yet we all recognise the concept of evil, that there are acts that are evil, that we all have the potential for evil within us – just as we all have the potential for good, and that we all have ‘that of God’ within us. We, Quakers, tend to be dualists to that extent, even if the degree of Christian dualism found in some other churches is (in my experience) extremely rare.

Reflection on Maxim 7: Being Who You Are Is Never A Sin

“Being who you are is never a sin.”
–Maxim 7

This is, I hope, self-explanatory. I suppose different people can take different things from it according to their own perspective and experience. I will reflect on it from my own perspective and experience.

People are all different. We’re different in different ways. Some of us are introverts, preferring to keep our time with other people to a minimum, and some are extraverts, thriving on the company of others. Some of us are born artists, or born dreamers, born analysts, even, it would seem, born bureaucrats. Some of us are attracted to people of particular sex or gender, the same as our own or different, and for some that matters little, if anything.

Quakers and Christianity

It’s a pretty common question online, in various question-asking-and-answering communities, and indeed offline when talking to people about our faith: are Quakers Christian? Seems like a simple question, doesn’t it? Well, the answer is, as ever, not anywhere near as simple.

If you want my short answer, it would be “some are”, but then others would say “yes”, despite the obvious presence of Quakers who do not identify as Christian, or “no”, despite the obvious presence of those who do.

If you want the quickest answer that is minimally misleading, I’ll have a go at that. Quakers grew out of Christianity, in a time and place where Christianity was the assumed norm, an almost, and to all practical purposes, universal faith – but where there were many varieties of it, most varieties suffering some degree of persecution. Christians who hold that a credal statement is a necessary characteristic of being a Christian – be it a specific formulation such as the Nicene Creed or a more general belief in, for example, the Trinity – would reject Quaker institutions as Christian, from early in our history, due to both our rejection of creeds and our acceptance of diverse forms of Christian belief from the very beginning. However, all early Quakers would call themselves Christians, indeed they generally felt they were ‘restoring’ true Christianity.

A Christmas Message (2021)

I don’t have a big, Quaker, theological post for Christmas this year (though I encourage you to look at Christmas posts from previous years). I have no Christmas-related written ministry to offer (at least, at the time of writing, that can always change unexpectedly). This year, I’m offering more of a personal message. Life, me, a year in review… well, we’ll see how it goes.

Recent history first. I went a bit quiet again, didn’t I? I won’t deny that any break is still harder for me to come back from, in terms of my mental health, weird (but apparently not unusual) topic-specific anxiety still holding me back a lot. The reason for the break, or at least a contributor to the length of it, is that I was actually physically ill again. Not my usual exacerbations of my balance problems or viral upper respiratory tract infections, either. No, shortly after my first in-person work since the pandemic started, I developed a chest infection. Bacterial. Possibly pneumonia, apparently, though that not confirmed, and if it was it was pretty mild (turns out there is such a thing as mild pneumonia, though such things are obviously relative). Either that or a pretty bad and tough-to-beat more conventional chest infection. I was laid out pretty badly, high fever, needed two lots of antibiotics to beat it (though the first lot broke the fever), and extremely low energy – mentally as well as physically – for a few weeks. I’m fine, now. My wife got a viral cough around the same time, so I suspect I brought home a viral lower respiratory bug and I got a secondary infection with it – it did take a little while for it to get productive in my case.

Reflection on Aphorism 6: It Is Not Faith That Sustains Us

“It is not faith that sustains us; the Spirit sustains us, and the exercise of faith and discipline facilitates this process.”
–Aphorism 6

This one is a little more mystical, more metaphysical perhaps, than is usual for me. I find it quite difficult to engage with because it doesn’t fit terribly well with how I conceptualise my relationship with the Divine. And yet I wrote it down, because I was called to do so.

I do not see the Spirit as something essential without the person, but as an essential essence of each person that is connected to that in others; a series of Divine shards, if you will, that joins us together and makes up a greater whole – though ‘shards’ conjures the image of these pieces having once been an undivided whole that was broken, which isn’t how I see it.

On Ministry and Clear Sight: A Reflection on Imperfect Divine Reflection

Copper alloy mirror, Turkey, circa 500 BCE

I was recently given written ministry to which I gave the title On Ministry and Clear Sight. It flowed as easily as any ministry I have ever given, and came as unexpectedly – a strong, clear leading to write or say certain things. As the ministry itself expresses, of course, there is much of myself in that ministry; it is an imperfect reflection shaped by what one might call, from the language of that ministry, as the ‘landscape of my mind’. In any case, it hit me hard, and I felt the need to think about it and give my own reaction to it.

The first, possibly most immediate point being that we have no sure way to know that any ministry offered is not genuinely drawing on the Spirit. Something might be so antithetical to our understanding of Quaker values and philosophy that we cannot countenance the idea that the Spirit gave it forth, yet still it did. Our task is to understand the possibilities of how it might have been inspired, let the ministry teach us about the Divine, about the world, and about the person who is speaking. We have to live with the discomfort that someone can say something we consider horrific in ministry, and yet there is some truth to it.

Remembrance, Performativity, and Sincerity

The Cenotaph, Whitehall.
Photo by Matt Brown

Today is the 11th of November – Armistice Day. When many people around the world remember that active fighting ceased, in Europe, on this day in 1918, at 11am (creating the easy to remember, and date-format friendly, time and date of 11am 11/11) local time. Many say the armistice was signed at 11am, but this is incorrect; it was signed earlier that day, after some negotiation, and communicated initially around 9am in Paris; the 11am time was that specified in the armistice for cessation of hostilities, and the troops had notice of it some time before that – and in many cases, carried on fighting quite close up to the minute specified, especially artillery units (who didn’t want to have to shift their ammo back home) and those who were in sight of a strategic target, whose officers were thinking ahead to the possibility that the armistice might fail. However, by 11am people had pretty much stopped fighting (in Europe), and the armistice did not fail – the war being formally ended with the Treaty of Versailles in June 1919.

I clarify ‘in Europe’ because, communication not being globally instantaneous in 1918, it took a while for the news to reach those fighting in Africa. About two weeks later, they got news, and the local commanders had to make their own arrangements for an armistice ceremony and cessation of hostilities in Northern Rhodesia (modern Zambia).

But this isn’t a history blog. It’s a Quaker blog. You might think, from the text above and a little knowledge of Quakers, that I’m about to get into Quaker pacifism, the wastefulness of the so-called Great War (now commonly known as the First World War), or, perhaps, how our public observances of Remembrance have taken on characteristics of glorification of war and the military. All of those would be valid things to post here, but that’s not what I’m up to right now. No, as those of you who’ve paid attention to the title of this post will have gathered, I want to take this opportunity to talk about performativity.

Keeping Our Past Close

My video game and media station. Visible devices, including those
barely visible are: an original SNES (top left), an original NES (top
middle), a Nintendo Gamecube (top right), a Nintendo Wii (bottom
right), a SNES Classic Mini (bottom right of centre), an N64
(bottom left of centre), a PlayStation 2 (bottom left), and a DVD
player (centre). Also present but not visible are a Steam Link and a
Nexus Player, and various switches and adapters behind the TV.

I recently finished a personal project. I got all my old-generation consoles and some bits of newer game-playing kit hooked up to our spare TV, on a trolley stand in our spare room/library/study (picture included for those interested). It’s got me thinking.

The oldest bit of kit I hooked up was originally released, in Japan, in 1983, not too long after I was born (although the particular item I have is from the European release, so can’t be any older than 1986, and is most likely from a later production run). I also have one that could date back as far as 1992, the original Japanese release being 1990, and a much more modern piece of kit that provides a selection of games from that platform in a modern, easy-to-use, small device. Successive devices from the same and other manufacturers span my childhood and teenage years, and into early adulthood; the only things newer than 2006 are a simple Android TV device that has some free or cheap games that are fun to play, and the much-maligned Steam Link, to play PC games on my TV over the network.

Reflection on Maxim 6: Forgive, Don't Be Quick to Forget

“Forgive as readily as you might, but do not be quick to forget.”
–Maxim 6

This is one of the most straightforward of these short pieces of written ministry. Indeed, it is entirely plain on its face. The question of why it needs saying, however, is worth some examination and reflection.

A common saying in English is “forgive and forget”; I do not know if similar sentiments are expressed in other languages where, perhaps, they are not so alliterative. The idea is much the same as “let bygones be bygones”, which is to say, let things in the past stay in the past – what’s done is done. I think many see this as a fine ideal, but hard to put into practice. On closer examination, though, is it even good as an ideal?

Welcome and Belonging: The Language of Community

Recent discussions among British Friends have used – and agonised over the use of – a range of terms. People start with ‘welcome’ or ‘welcoming’, and then bring in ‘belonging’, sometimes in contrast with ‘fitting in’. Then there’s ‘accepting’, and ‘affirming’. In all but the last case, these are not at all specific to the particular reason for these recent discussions. They are words about how people fit together, how people are brought together, how a group of people becomes a community and how people become part of that community.

This post is not about those recent discussions. It is about this group of words and ideas more generally. What is ‘welcome’, and does it only apply to new people, to bringing those ‘outside’ a community ‘inside’? What does it mean to belong, or to be accepted? What connotations do these words have that might not be intended? What do I mean when I use them, and how might I be accidentally conveying something other than I intend? These are not easy questions, and it’s likely people will have different answers to them, which can make communication about these ideas difficult.

Reflection on ‘Aphorism 5’ (Never Seeing with the Same Eyes)

“The spiritual journey is much like the physical journeys of our lives. While you may return to the same territory, you will never see it with the same eyes.”
–Aphorism 5

This actually bears less reflection than many of the maxims and aphorisms I have shared. It is, to be frank, fairly direct. It is not cryptic, and doesn’t have a great many layers of meaning. Still, I will deconstruct it, as I understand it, and we shall see what we shall see.

It is harder to see when considering those things and places we see every day, or every week. Still, it has been my experience that when I revisit places that I have not seen for some time, they do not seem the same. Sometimes, of course, it is because they have changed – a park that you visit for the first time in years will have changes in trees, in furniture, maybe even in the routes of paths. Returning to your school in adulthood, buildings may have been demolished and replaced, uniforms altered, the behaviour of staff and pupils altered. But that’s not all there is to the difference.

Quakers, ADHD, and Me

Visual representation of ADHD by Tara Winstead

I’ve known for some time – as long as I can remember – that my mind doesn’t work like most other people’s. I learned about autism over the years, and while I identified very strongly with the sense that autistic people shared of not understanding how other people’s heads worked, I didn’t identify with any of the specifics. I knew I was different, but I knew I wasn’t different that way.

In the last few years, I learned more about ADHD, partly through exposure online, and partly because I simply needed to for work. Things started to make more sense. People who know me, and know the common understanding of ADHD, might find that confusing – but people who know me and have deeper knowledge of ADHD seemed to think it made a lot of sense. So I started the process of seeking an assessment.

At one time, much as with autism (or for those who prefer to differentiate it in that way, autism spectrum conditions), ADHD was seen as something that would inevitably be spotted in childhood, so services to assess it in adults took some time to catch up. More so than for autism, there was even a sense that people usually ‘grew out’ of ADHD, so if it had been missed in childhood it wouldn’t matter, and adults – even those diagnosed in childhood – didn’t really need services. Still, I looked into what GPs were supposed to do if someone came to them thinking they might have ADHD (I don’t like saying ‘have ADHD’, but unlike with autism there isn’t really an alternative, an adjectival form), and went to my GP to talk about it. They promptly referred me on for full assessment, and warned me it would be a long wait.

Quakers and Practical Action

I have a very strong feeling about this, as strong as that when I am called to minister. I reflected and tested it, however, and it was clear to me that it is actually simply a strong feeling of my own. Nonetheless, like other deliberate writing on this blog, it’s something I want to share – something I feel is of value to share among Friends, and to be public about to any non-Quaker audience who happens upon my blog for whatever reason.

We Quakers can talk a good talk. But when it comes to practical action, we often seem to struggle. Oh, when we do take practical action we can be very good at it (and we can be ineffective – no-one is effective all the time), but actually taking the step of trying to take practical action seems to be difficult for us. I cannot count the times, in Meetings for Worship for Business, that I have been frustrated – we have a clear leading that something needs to be done, but ministry on what to do or how to do it is sparse, and often, to speak plainly, wishy-washy. Where it does occur, it is often in such a minority that, quite understandably, the clerks do not feel able to see it as the sense of the Meeting and include it in the minute.

My Experience of Gender

A note in advance: this is categorised as both ‘writing’, the tag I use for deliberate writing, and as ‘ministry’, the tag I use for things I am led to write in the same manner as being led to speak in Meeting for Worship. This is not a typical tagging pattern on my blog, and it arises for a simple reason. I am strongly led to write about my experience of gender at this time, but there is much more leading as to what I should write – though I was still guided by the Spirit more than I am generally in deliberate writing. This has been written deliberately, not entirely with the guidance of the Spirit, but definitely at the prompting of the Spirit.

I grew up in about as much of a gender-expectation-free environment as one could get, in the time and place I grew up. This is, I think, largely a result of my mother; my father never had any objections to it, as far as I was aware, but I’m not sure he would have been as encouraging without my mother’s influence. I had ‘boy’s toys’ and ‘girl’s toys’. As a small child playing dress-up, I gleefully mixed costumes and costume elements without regard for the conceptual gender that they belonged to. I even experimented with makeup as a small child, as well as in my teens within subcultures in which such exploration was acceptable. I may have grown up in a mostly male household, but my mother was always the most dominant figure in it.

Nominations, Mandates, Power and Service

Engraving of Vespasian, Roman Emperor,
by unknown artist circa 17th-18th century

We Quakers have a somewhat idiosyncratic way of getting a lot of our work done. In any organisation, in any community, there will be certain jobs that need to be done for that community – and some way of deciding who does the jobs and in what way.

In your stereotypical secular organisation, the main ongoing jobs are codified into specific positions – chair, secretary, treasurer, social secretary, communications officer, and so forth. Any work that needs doing is either in the remit of one of these people, or an executive committee decides who will do it. Who serves in the various named positions is usually a matter for election, though it is not unheard of for an executive committee for one year to designate the executive committee for the next, subject to ratification in general meeting, or for some or all of the positions to be filled ex officio by people with positions in other (typically constituent or affiliated) organisations. By and large, though, it comes down to something to some degree typically democratic – there is a vote of the membership to determine who serves in what role.

In less formal organisations, work is often done by whoever shows up. Decisions, be they by vote or consensus, are made at meetings by a self-selecting body of those who cared enough to show up. If the organisation wants a newsletter, someone volunteers to do it, and does so if no-one objects; when they cease to do so, someone else will offer – or not, and the work doesn’t happen, for good or ill.

It's Been a While

I’ve been away from this blog for a while. I thought it might be appropriate to talk a bit about why. An exploration and reflection on the past 9 months or so. I also want to thank those who have continued to support my Patreon despite the lack of output for so long; this might be a matter of not noticing, forgetting they had supported it, but it might also be a deliberate decision to continue to support me in this small but very tangible way in spite of my output. For that I am profoundly grateful.

I did post some written ministry recently, but if you read the note at the bottom on when it was written, you will see that it was written as far back as June 2020. I was not completely dysfunctional by then, but was already struggling.

A Quaker Covid Christmas

Your latest Christmas Tree decoration?
(visualisation of SARS-CoV-2 virus by US CDC)

It’s Christmas time. It’s a pandemic. It seems to have quite a lot of people in something of a tizzy.

Our friends across the Atlantic have already negotiated this with their Thanksgiving holidays, when it is common – even traditional – for families to come together, even if they live far apart. Many families here in Britain are in the habit of doing the same at Christmas, and certainly families who do live near one another often get together in larger family gatherings than is their habit at other times of year. The fact it has become a secular holiday, as well as a sacred festival for most Christians, means that this extends over more of the population than one might think by looking at religious demographics.

To an awful lot of people, Christmas isn’t Christmas without household mixing. For the religiously observant, busy services on Christmas Eve bring many households into close proximity. For lots of people, religious or otherwise, Christmas is when family comes together, even if normally spread out. Students return to the family home for Christmas, and even those children who are grown and settled in new lives often do the same. Where the next generation has brought forth their own new generation, the older generation might be hosted by their children, and see their grandchildren. This is normal, expected even – to the extent that childless people who spend Christmas alone, even as a couple, are sometimes pitied at best, thought strange at worst. Charities put a lot of effort into making sure people who don’t want to spend Christmas alone – or who other people think oughtn’t to spend Christmas alone – don’t have to do so.

Covid, Mental Health, Relgion and Spiritual Communities

The public health issues gripping the world have been hard on a lot of people – indeed, I would be surprised to find anyone who hadn’t experienced some sort of negative impact from the changes that Covid-19 has worked upon our lives. I’m sure, here in the UK, we’ve all heard from friends and relatives finding themselves homeschooling their kids with very little notice and usually equally sparse support. I expect more than a few of my readers have been in that position themselves, not just heard about it at one remove. People who have lost their job or had hours cut have obvious stress. People who thrive on social contact will have struggled with the limited ability to see other people. People who have had to restrict contact even more because of being at high risk, such as the UK’s ‘shielding’ category, will have had extra stress just getting essentials, and those who already relied on shopping deliveries have had to cope with slots being much harder to come by.

Those are the obvious sources of stress, of things that can affect people’s mental health. And those are just the tip of the iceberg.

#BlackLivesMatter: A White British Quaker's Perspective

'Slave Trade' by John Raphael Smith, after George Morland's
‘Execrable human traffick, or the affectionate slaves’

Recent events have brought back to wider public consciousness that rallying cry, “Black Lives Matter”. It comes from the United States of America, but its resonance is felt around the world. As we see from the incidents that prompt outcry, it is most easily associated with excess deaths of black people – but it’s about a lot more than that.

Now, most Quakers in Britain are white. Not all of us, by any stretch, but definitely most. We’re also mostly relatively educated, with a much higher incidence of post-graduate qualifications than the general population, and there’s a definite tendency towards being culturally middle class. This has a lot of results, some of which I’ve written about before, but one of them is a real difficulty in engaging with the deep issues that underlie the statement that Black lives matter. I’ve seen Quakers in public on social media respond to that simple statement with one of the most problematic responses that we see everywhere – that “all lives matter”.

Why is that statement a problem? After all, don’t we – with our pacifist tradition and believe in a sort of universal divinity – really fundamentally believe that all lives matter? Yes, of course we do. It would be silly to suggest otherwise. In fact, especially among Quakers, it’s so obvious that it doesn’t even need saying. So why do we need to say that Black lives matter?

The Choice of Judas?

Judas reaches for the food, School of Monte Cassino, c.1100

In keeping with my previous writings concerning ‘Times and Seasons’, and with conditions being so different from the usual at the moment, I have been reflecting on the Easter story.

I don’t have a great deal of skin in this game, not being a Christian or believing in the divinity of Jesus – or at least any more divinity than anyone else. Still, it is the tradition I grew up in. The irreligiosity of my family didn’t diminish the exposure to the story that one gets from wider society. It is a story that few who grew up in the UK, at least around the time I was doing so, could avoid knowing about.

Of course, without more study than even most Christians put into it, you get a very simplistic idea of the story. As with the Christmas story, the story we generally get through liturgy, or being taught in school, or seeing dramatic interpretations, is a sort of hodgepodge of the different gospel accounts. The journey into Jerusalem, assorted miracles, the Last Supper, the betrayal at Gethsemane. Yet all of these elements are different in different gospels, as I noted in previous writing concerning the Last Supper. Now, I am going to focus on the betrayal of Jesus by Judas, a story whose meaning I’m not sure is appreciated as best it might be – and a story that has been used down the centuries to justify injustice.