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The Limits of Quaker Universalism

I am, as regular readers will no doubt realise, a proponent of Quaker Universalism – the idea that a person’s underlying theology can take a wide range of forms, and still be a Quaker. This is not, however, a matter of ‘anything goes’. It can’t be.

For starters, it’s never a matter of “believe what you want”; it can only be “believe what you believe”. But while that is the most common error in talking about Quaker Universalism – often derisively – it is not the most fundamental limit. No, that most fundamental limit comes from the essence of Quaker practices.

Everything about how Quakers do things, especially in the Liberal part of our Religious Society, but not uniquely to it, is based on the idea of direct revelation – the idea that God, the Spirit, or whatever-you-call-it, can tell us things, give us guidance. Burning bushes are rare, but a still small voice is accessible to all. A personal theology, whether it involves a theistic God or not, must allow for this, or Meeting for Worship makes no sense. It is the usual centre of our spiritual life and the foundation for all other key Quaker practices and liturgy (yes, in practice we have liturgy, but that’s a matter for another day), and it is fundamentally based on the idea that we are prompted by something to speak, and that something is capable of doing something different from our ordinary, every day personal mind.

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?

On Ministry and Clear Sight

The ministry that comes to us from the still silence within, that we share together in worship or in other ways, most often comes out as words. But the inspiration of the Divine that becomes such ministry is not given to us as words.

The gift of ministry is pure inspiration, an injection into our being of guidance, of ideas, of symbols, of images, of relationships, and we cannot comprehend it consciously in its original form. Sometimes, for some people, it finds its best expression and understanding in a form other than words, though still it is not exactly what was given. When we do express it as words, it is necessarily imperfect. The inspiration might help us find the right words, but still it is we who find the words.

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.

I Have Never Seen a Peach Tree

I have never seen a peach tree,
At least, not to know I did.
There are many things we don’t see,
Though in plain sight they are hid.

Some things to see are plain to all.
Others seem subtle, their import easy to forgo.
It’s not a case of big or small—
We know what we see when we see what we know.

Of course I know a peach by sight,
The distinctive touch of the furry skin,
Succulent flesh in the mouth a delight,
Sweet juice running down the chin.

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.