The Hope of Our Worship

November 30, 2025 § 1 Comment

What do we hope for when we gather in our expectant silence?

Fellowship in the spirit, to know each other in that which is transcendental.

Some peace, a little respite from the troubles of the world.

Inner renewal, refreshment of spirit that we can take with us when we go back into the world.

Communion with a Spirit of Love and Truth, a Teacher and Guide who can lead us as we walk in the world.

And a deeper holy communion with a Presence in the midst, a Mystery Reality that gathers us into unity and love and gratitude.

I am the vine

November 9, 2025 § 1 Comment

A meditation in meeting for worship this morning. An “Afterthought”, I guess, though I did not share it.

In the gospel of John, Jesus says, “I am the vine, you are the branches.” (John 15:5) A passage the weekly Bible study that I moderate has been exploring.

When I try to feel inside myself this intimacy with the Spirit of Love and Life, it sometimes feels forced. When I try to feel the Sap of Life flowing into me from some holy Source beyond myself, or even within myself, when I try to open to its action within me, flowing through me to bring forth fruit in the world through my words and actions, I often feel like I’m trying to fake it until I make it.

But every once in a while, this faith and practice of inward attunement and at-one-ment with divine love and life does bear fruit, and its promise is fulfilled. I do feel divine love and life pouring through my spiritual veins, and I am alive with love and joy and gratitude.

Then my faith is renewed and my practice is strengthened in happy expectation.

Vocal Ministry: A Garden, a School of the Spirit

October 6, 2025 § 1 Comment

Vocal ministry is the signature form of ministry in the Quaker way. As such, it is the classroom and laboratory in the school of the Spirit for Quaker ministry of all kinds. In our practice of vocal ministry, we can learn and experiment with all of the spiritual elements that make up the faith and practice of Quaker ministry more generally.

Listening for the Voice. The spiritual foundation of ministry is listening for the Voice that is calling us into service, an expectant attention to a possible anointing by the Spirit within us for service. Something there is within us that can hear that call, that can see that light, that can feel that prompt as a seed sprouting, pushing aside the soil of our soul and unfurling into the light of consciousness.

Nurturing the plant. Once you feel that baptism, then the attention changes into a form of waiting to see how the plant grows, combined with however we water such emerging shoots with deep contemplation. We nurture it, give it the fertilizer of this new kind of attention, until it matures and perhaps a flower blooms, a message, or a mission, that is taking more definite form.

Expectant waiting. Once the shoot, now a plant, has produced a blossom, a possible message, attention shifts again. We remain attentive and open, trying to hold onto the opening but not obstructing its development. Will we see it pollenated? Will new thoughts and feelings enter our regard and enrich it, so that some fruit begins to form? Or will the ministry of others bring some truth to the body ahead of our own that settles us back into silence? Or perhaps just the mystery of the deep silence itself will bring the fruit to maturity. If so, eventually a beam of Light shines upon it with clarity, a wind of the Spirit shakes the branch, and it falls ripe into your hand.

Discerning the Spirit. But we are not done yet. Another form of attention is required. Has it truly been pollenated by God? Is this fruit the fruit of the Spirit or of ego, or of a mind engaged but without a true spiritual transmission? Is it just for my own nourishment, or has it been given to me to serve to the meeting? If so, then, we become clear and out to the diners at the messianic banquet it goes.

Serving faithfully. Now, more deep listening even while speaking is required. If it has been given for the meeting, do I keep my ego off the plate in its delivery? Is my ministry truly service and savory in itself, or have I over-seasoned it? And do I know when the plate has been cleared, and I can sit down, having fulfilled my service?

Eldering. Once I’ve sat down, how do I feel—deeply at peace or quite energized, not in the satisfaction of self, but in some transcending sense of relief or of satisfaction? How does my Guide, the spirit of the christ, of the anointing, feel about my service? This inner reflection is just as subtle and delicate as all the other forms of spiritual attention we’ve exercised, just as reliant on experiment and practice. But we are not alone. What does the meeting think of my service? Is our meeting paying attention, deeply listening not just to the message but also to the Seed from which it grew? Is our meeting passing on the faith and tools for listening spirituality and ways to enter the depths of our being and listen? Is the meeting looking for opportunities to nurture those who are being called into service?

All of these forms of attention are versions of our listening spirituality, ways to attune ourselves to the movement of the Spirit within us and among us, to hear its message for us, as individuals and as meetings. Do we have teachers in this classroom? Have we given our ministers the tools they need to find their own faith and practices, so that they may grow in their service? And is the soil of our meeting’s garden fertile and ready to receive the new seeds that our ministry brings to us?

Worship in Spirit and Truth

October 3, 2025 § 2 Comments

In the weekly Bible study that I moderate (Thursdays, 3:30, via Zoom), we’ve been looking at the wonderful story of Jesus and the Samaritan woman at the well in John chapter four. It includes a passage that is one of the scriptural foundations for worship in the manner of Friends, John 4:23–24, and, as very often happens, our exploration brought to me some openings. Here is that passage: 

The hour is coming, and is now here, when the true worshippers will worship the Father in spirit and truth, for the Father seeks such as these to worship him. God is spirit, and those who worship him must worship in spirit and truth.

The structure of this saying suggests to me an identity or deep correspondence between spirit and truth. And I think a key to that relationship can be found in the word for truth in Greek, and also in another passage in John, John 14:15–17.

“Truth” in New Testament Greek is aletheia, in which the “a-“ is a prefix which we might render in English as “un-“. Lanthano, the Greek root word for aletheia means to hide. So “truth” is an un-covering, a revealing. Truth is revelation. A revelation of the Spirit of Truth, our Advocate, as in John 14:15–17:

If you love me, you will keep my commandments. And I will ask the Father, and he will give you another Advocate, to be with you forever. This is the Spirit of Truth, whom the world cannot receive, because it neither sees him nor knows him. You know him, because he abides with you, and he will be in you [or among you].

So to “worship in spirit and truth” is to worship in the Spirit-Advocate whom God sends to us for revelation—continuing revelation, because that spirit is “forever”. The vehicle for revelation in our worship is our vocal ministry. So true worship is manifest in truly Spirit-led ministry.

This Spirit of Revelation is within us, and it is among us. It arises from within us as love, as vocal ministry, and as our presence in worship. It arises among us as it brings us into the Presence in our midst in worship that is gathered and covered by the Spirit. True worship is the gathered meeting.

To “worship in spirit and truth” is also to follow Jesus’s commandments, and “This is my commandment, that you love one another as I have loved you.” (John 15:12) So true fellowship in the Spirit is also a form of worship. It is worship in action, worship that continues after we have left the meeting room at close of formal worship, a continuing revealing of divine love.

The Goal of Quaker Meeting

July 9, 2025 § Leave a comment

I’ve just read Building the Life of the Meeting, the Annual Michener Lecture for 1994 presented to Southeastern Yearly Meeting by William and Fran Taber, published as a pamphlet and available from SEYM. In it (page 11), Fran Taber defines “the goal of Quaker meeting” this way:

“to open each participant to the ongoing work of God, which is to renew within me the image of the Divine in which I was created; to draw all present into a sense of unity in which the living presence of the Holy Spirit is enjoyed together; and to lead us individually and corporately into faithfully carrying out the varied ministries and service to which we are called.”

I could paraphrase it thusly: the goal of worship is inward spiritual transformation, gathering in the Spirit (the gathered meeting), and the activation and support of ministry. This seems both succinct and thorough to me, and inspired truth.

Thank you, Fran. I remember you with warmth and deep gratitude.

A Prayer

March 9, 2025 § 2 Comments

I have found myself speaking quite often in meeting lately. Maybe it’s because I’m working on a submission on vocal ministry to Pendle Hill Pamphlets, so vocal ministry is not just on my mind, but really in my mind. It’s been making me nervous, speaking often like this, more consistently than I every have in the past—three times in four weeks, maybe four times in six weeks. Oy.

Furthermore, I’m relatively new to the meeting, so I’m worried about how it looks to have this newcomer loading up an early morning worship that not infrequently goes silent the whole hour, as it did this morning.

All these concerns are beside the point, of course. The only thing that really matters is whether I’ve been called. But this new trend has me worried about that, too. Am I really called to speak this consistently?

So I went to meeting this morning set on resisting, and so I did. And that resistance had me literally quaking for the last ten minutes. This was made both easier and more difficult, paradoxically, because the message was a prayer. I have only brought vocal prayer to meeting three times in 38 years, and one of them was an extremely harrowing experience. But I held on to my resolve and did not speak. Was I unfaithful? In the end, it felt okay, but . . . I relieved the pressure by sharing the prayer in “afterthoughts”, so I got it out after all.

I’ve always been uncomfortable with afterthoughts and I think it’s possible that I have not offered one afterthought in all my time as a Friend. I suspect, with no clear evidence, that afterthoughts have some kind of feedback effect on the vocal ministry—but what effect? Does it protect the worship from shallow ministry or lower the bar? I’ve been in meetings that have them and meetings that don’t, and I still can’t tell. But my instincts tell me that afterthoughts must have some kind of effect on the worship that precedes them.

Well, anyway, here is that prayer:

Our Father, who art in the mystery of transcendence;
Our Mother, who art in the earth in her immanence;
Our Holy Spirit, which art in each of us a holy presence;
hallow our hearts and minds to your guidance.
Please help us to bring divine love into the world.
Please give all of us who are in need the necessities of the day.
Please help us to treat others as we want to be treated.
Please help us to resist the temptation to do wrong,
and to have the wisdom and strength to do what is right.
And thank you, thank you, thank you.

Spiritwind Hurricane

May 28, 2024 § 1 Comment

A Metaphor for the Gathered Meeting

The gathered meeting is like a hurricane of peace that has formed as a swirling pattern of astral spirit-breath-wind that has gathered over the sea of Light around the eye of our deepening silence. Okay, maybe “hurricane of peace” is an oxymoron. But let’s ride the paradox a little further.

Hurricanes form when an area of low pressure moves across warm ocean water. Air moves into the partial vacuum of the low pressure zone, picks up warm air full of moisture from the ocean, and rises; this draws in more air behind it, catching up more moisture. The air rises and cools, the water vapor precipitates forming clouds and then thunderstorms form, releasing even more heat into the storm through the condensation. And ultimately, a hurricane is on the move.

I cannot help but think of Genesis 1:2: “And the spirit of God moved upon the face of the waters.” But this should read “the spirit-breath-wind of God” because the words for all three are the same in both Hebrew and Greek.

Think of the “waters” as George Fox’s ocean of light, as a medium for the gathered meeting. We can think of the “low pressure zone” of the meeting in worship as what early Friends called the silence of all flesh, the deepening and centering of the worshipping community. Into that spiritual opening rise the prayers and spiritual yearnings of the worshippers, spiritual vapors drawn from the ocean of light by prayer and meditation, by love, attention, and desire. The updraft draws up with it the love, attention, and desires of other worshippers.

Some of this uplifting might ride on Spirit-led vocal ministry.

All of this spiritual energy is rising toward “heaven,” toward the undefinable and indescribable “space” in which spirit dwells. And then, at some point, something precipitates out, perhaps, especially in meetings for business, from some vocal ministry. Of, if not, then from some collective still small voice, some transcendent small signal among the worshippers.

And the spirit-hurricane of peace has formed, its swirling curls of spiritual energy gathering the meeting into a vortex of unity, presence, and joy, with the well of living water (John 4:10) in its eye.

Worship as Worth-Shaping

February 4, 2023 § 6 Comments

worship, from Old English weorth worthy, worth, and scieppan to shape.

Etymologically, at its root, worshipping is worth-shaping. It is giving shape to that which we deem of extraordinary, or even of ultimate, value.

What is it we Quakers value? And how do we give it shape with our worship? Let’s start with the latter question first. And here I am speaking of silent waiting worship.

The silence and the waiting. These would seem to be rather passive ways to give shape to something of value. But they are not.

They are open doors, through which we actively invite the spirit of the christ* to enter. And we do not just hang a sign above the door saying “Welcome!”.  We call out, from our hearts, with our prayers, in our expectant attention: “Please! Come!”

Like the bridesmaids, our lamps are lit and we wait with full attention; we actively keep watch (Matthew 25:1–13). The silence allows us to hear when the bridegroom approaches. And when the Holy Spirit knocks on our door, as we expect it will, we usher the Presence in, and together we sup (Revelation 2:30).

This banquet is of ultimate worth. This communion with the spirit of anointing is our treasure. 

Like Mary, we sit at the Spirit’s feet, listening for its revelation, its healing and forgiveness, its strengthening and encouragement, its peace and renewal, its inspiration and guidance. 

And like Martha, we serve, like waiters at the banquet. We are ready to pour out the living water, to offer the fruits of the spirit, in vocal ministry or vocal prayer, in silent holding in the Light and in prayers spoken inwardly.

We do not give this visitation and this revelation shape so much as we look and listen for the spirit-shape in which it has been given to us. We settle into the presence, exulting in the joy it brings. We pass on the revelation, in our vocal ministry, in our leadings to service, in our lives lived according to its guidance, accepting that our handling of it will alter its form but seeking also to be faithful to its Truth.

And thus we ultimately give shape to the spirit-worth when we walk through William Taber’s fourth door into worship, with how we live our lives, with the love and the integrity and the service that we bring into the world from that hour on first day. And that makes the rest of the week our worship, as well.

* Christos, in New Testament Greek, means anoint, as with oil. For me, the spirit of the christ is the spirit that anointed Jesus—that christed him—at the beginning of his ministry, as recounted in Luke 4:18: “The spirit of the Lord is upon me; he has anointed me [christed me] to proclaim good news to the poor.”

Virtual Worship IV – Zoom and the Gathered Meeting

May 29, 2020 § 8 Comments

In my last post, I revised my original evaluation of virtual worship. Before our meeting switched to Zoom for worship, I was skeptical. After that first meeting, I was thankful. Now I’m skeptical again. And for me, this comes down to whether a virtual meeting for worship can be gathered in the Spirit.

In my Pendle Hill Pamphlet The Gathered Meeting I identified five qualities that distinguish the gathered or covered meeting for worship: energy, presence, knowledge, unity, and joy.

Energy. The gathered meeting is thrilling; it fills my mind and even my body with an unmistakable sense of aliveness and focus. But “focus” is not really the right word, because there is no point of focus, but rather a whole-field sense of heightened awareness, of presence to the animating energy of consciousness.

To be honest, I’ve had these feelings when in deep meditation, so presumably I could have them in a virtual meeting for worship. There is a subtle difference, though, I think, between the deep contemplative state and the state I’m trying to describe in a gathered meeting for worship, which feels induced, not by my own individual practice, but by our corporate practice. That difference is pretty subtle. But can we feel that frisson, that shivering shared awareness, that passes through the body (the gathered body) when it’s covered by the Spirit if we are not sitting next to each other in the same space, but only present to each other as thumbnail images on a screen?

Knowledge. The gathered meeting brings a knowing, a feeling that one has touched, not some specific truth, but a more transcendent Truth. It’s as though some spiritual organ for gnosis, for spiritual understanding, has been super-charged, but without being given, necessarily, any object to be understood. We become a Subject Who Knows. And we also feel like a Someone Who Is Known. Like the sense of energy, this sense of knowing, and of knowing that we are known, transcends our ability to articulate it; it “passes all understanding”. But it is real.

Once again, I’ve experienced this state a few times on my own, in deep meditation, on LSD, and in a sweat lodge. What’s different in the gathered meeting is a collective knowing: I Know; I know that you Know; I know that you know that I Know; and I know that you know that I know that you Know. This psychic, collective, mutually reflective knowing is a signature characteristic of a gathered meeting; you look up after meeting is over and there are the other worshippers looking back at you with that look of—I Know! How would I know in this way in a virtual meeting?

Unity. This pentecost, this psychic manifestation of gathering in the Spirit, fuses the community in communion. This union, this unity, is most obvious in a gathered meeting for business, which, in my experience, often comes after hard struggle in disunity. But whether in a regular meeting for worship or a business meeting, the participants feel at one with each other in a way that transcends mere outward agreement. This unity is, in a sense, just another face of the gathered meeting’s sense of knowing. And like the collective knowing, it needs the collective. How can we share this sense of one-body-ness when our bodies and our consciousnesses are miles away from each other?

Presence. Presence, what Thomas Kelly calls the “dynamic, living, working Life”, is the hardest of all these qualities to share virtually with others. It’s not too hard to be present to each other socially on Zoom, but (for me, at least) it’s really hard to be psychically present to each other virtually. Virtually psychically present—that is an oxymoron. Meanwhile, being thus present to each other is somehow the very foundation of being present to the Presence in our Midst. On Zoom, we don’t really have a Midst for a Presence to be present in.

Joy. Joy is the easiest of these to feel in a Zoom meeting, I think. The joy I feel in seeing these faces, hearing your voices, is real and strong. But still—it is not the same as that overwhelming sense of gratitude that I’ve felt in a gathered meeting for worship, in which the unity, the joy, the knowing, the presence, and the Presence all shake my being in a way I’ve never experienced any other way. Oftentimes it has literally made me quake.

But can’t the gathering on Zoom still be worship?

The first-order question is, what is worship? What is meeting for worship for? For me, worship is the corporate practice of listening at the door for the knock of the Presence and that Voice and then opening (Revelation 3:20). We come together in worship in order to be gathered collectively into the Spirit of Love and Truth, into what Paul called the body of Christ. We come to realize what is perhaps the signature tenet of our faith, that not only can every human commune directly with the divine, but also the worshipping community can commune directly with the divine—as a community! And sometimes this happens in this extraordinary and beatific way we call the covered meeting.

So—for me—worship is all about the gathered meeting. And I just don’t think a virtual meeting can be a medium for a gathered meeting.

Now it’s true that gathered meetings are rare, and so a meeting for worship doesn’t have to be gathered to be a meeting for worship. Moreover, I suspect that many of our members and attenders have never experienced a gathered meeting; a certain number might not even know there is such a thing. And yet a meeting for worship is still a meeting for worship.

So I attend.

A note—a minute of exercise, if you will—that arose from writing this post. I found myself using terms to describe one aspect of the gathered meeting that, in my pamphlet, I had used to describe a different aspect of the gathered meeting. This, I think, is because the gathered meeting transcends description. That hasn’t kept me from trying to describe it. However, I found in writing this post that my various descriptions of its various aspects all verge on each other. These various aspects of the gathered meeting are, in essence, all faces of the same thing. In this transcendental state, all is one.

Virtual Worship III

May 29, 2020 § 3 Comments

Virtual worship—I take it back—again.

Looking forward to the first virtual meeting for worship hosted by my meeting, I wrote a blog post in which I said that I thought it would be worth doing but that it would really be a kind of group meditation, not a meeting for worship. I proposed calling it something like “Meeting for Virtual Community”.

Then, after that first Zoom worship, I took all that back. It was so great to see my Friends’ faces, hear each other’s voices. I felt such a strong sense of community.

But now I’ve attended a number of these meetings and I feel my original concern has been confirmed. These meetings are good, really good, in some ways. But I don’t think they really are worship, not in the deepest sense, anyway. In the sense that we are meeting at the same time to turn together toward the Spirit, we can call it worship. But in the sense that we are collectively turning toward the Spirit in our midst . . . about that I’m not so sure.

Or, to put it another way: I can’t imagine a virtual meeting for worship being gathered in the Spirit. Can you? How would you know it’s gathered? How would you “sense” the qualities that are such a blessing in a gathered meeting?

Thus—for me—if a virtual meeting cannot be a medium for a gathered meeting, it rather strains the meaning of meeting for worship. I want to dig deeper into this question in the next post by looking at the qualities of the gathered meeting. But here I want to explore the more mundane aspects of meeting virtually and how they impact the quality of worship.

The holy communion that we feel with God (however you would describe this Mystery Reality) and with each other in the gathered meeting seems to depend on the subtle perception of small signals working with a mysterious extra-sensory capacity for psychic connection.

Sound. Take the quality of the silence. It’s not really silent in the meeting room. People shuffle, a horn is heard outside, maybe birds in the summer. In the meeting room, we share this quiet ambient auditory environment. The vocal ministry carries through a room whose acoustics we all share.

By contrast, here in my study, I hear the annoying grinding of the timer we have on lights we have in the windows. I hear the horns and sirens of my neighborhood, and so on. You my fellow worshippers do not hear these things. Your vocal ministry comes through not quite in real time accompanied by the acoustics of the room you are in (though at least I can usually hear you). My local “silence” is my own, our shared “silence” is artificial and dead, until someone speaks. Then it is artificial and yet oddly immediate.

Sight. Then there’s the visual—on Zoom, a gallery of little faces that it is wonderful to see, but weirdly static. In our meeting’s meeting room, my vision becomes increasingly unfocused; the room itself dominates and most folks are far enough away not to see very well (Central Philadelphia Meeting is large and our room is large). I keep my eyes closed much of the time, but when I open them, I am still able to continue sinking into the Deep because it is relatively easy to “unfocus”.

On Zoom, I’m looking at a small screen—a short-range focus full of inviting images. I am tempted to look at face after face, and to zoom through the panels to see the other faces not displayed on the screen. This pulls me up and out, not down and deep. And each worshipper’s background is another inviting distraction. If I keep my eyes closed, I am in my study with my sounds and not with you.

Activity. Occasionally in the meeting room, someone gets up and leaves. And of course, there are always latecomers. (How I miss those latecomers now.) On screen, people move around, pop in and out. I pop in and out to answer my spouse or whatever. People eat and drink, which they would not do in the meeting room. We seem to feel free to mix our worship with other activities when sitting in our own homes and using an electronic device.

Smell. Who knows what role the shared but subtle odors of the meeting room play in our worship experience?

Auras. I have said before in my pamphlet on The Gathered Meeting and in this blog that I believe one of the mediums for the psychic dimension of the gathered meeting is the human aura and the entwining of auras in the meeting room. This is pure speculation. But presumably there is some medium that makes psychic experience possible, and whatever it is, I doubt that it works through the internet.

This gets to the heart of what we’re doing in worship—collective focus on the Mystery Reality behind our spiritual and religious experience—and its consummation in the gathered meeting. As I said above, I want to look at that in the next post.

Vocal ministry. But first a final word about vocal ministry. It seems to me that the vocal ministry in my meeting has gotten noticeably better since we’ve been meeting virtually. Fewer people speak. The messages seem more concise. And often they seem to come from a deeper place.

Why is this? Is it the gravity of the circumstances that are keeping us from each other? A heightened sense of our feelings for each other and the need to be of spiritual service? A paradoxical effect of the technology that makes our messages more immediate because we are speaking to faces rather than to a room, and we ourselves are so visible to our listeners? All of the above?

I would like to know whether my readers are having the same experience with the vocal ministry in their virtual meetings for worship.

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