Thanksgiving
July 29, 2013 § 6 Comments
New York Yearly Meeting Summer Sessions 2013
I attended the Summer Sessions of New York Yearly Meeting last week and a lot of things came up that I want to talk about. Because I attended as staff (I am the communications director), I was too busy to post entries during the Sessions, so I plan to post them over the next few weeks. They have no organizing theme, except that events at Sessions prompted them all, so I am applying to them a Category tag of NYYM Summer Sessions 2013.
The theme of this year’s Sessions was “Keeping Faith: Answering that of God in All Creation”. Our plenary speaker was Freida J. Jacques, who is the Clanmother of the Turtle Clan of the Onondaga Nation of the Haudenosaunee (hoe´-de-nō-SHOW-nay), the People of the Longhouse, known more popularly to European Americans as the League of the Iroquois. The Six Nations of the Iroquois Confederacy live in the Finger Lakes region of New York State. The original Five Nations were the Mohawk, the Cayuga, the Onondaga, the Oneida, and the Seneca. In 1712, the Tuscarora, an Iroquois-speaking nation from North Carolina, petitioned the Haudenosaunee for membership, were accepted, and they soon migrated to New York State.
Freida Jacques spoke on the Doctrine of Discovery (see Doctrine of Discovery.org), which New York Yearly Meeting repudiated in a minute approved at our Fall Sessions 2012 (see the factsheet and New York Yearly Meeting’s minute). She also talked about the Two-Row Wampum Renewal Campaign: 2013 is the 400th anniversary of this treaty between the Haudenosaunee and the Dutch, establishing an agreement that the two peoples would travel down the river of life side by side, in peace and mutual respect of each other’s traditions. As part of the renewal campaign, a flotilla of canoes and other craft are right now travelling down the Hudson River and will land on August 9 on the East River in Manhattan near the United Nations headquarters. From there the participants will go to the UN for a presentation. Freida also told the extraordinary story of the Great Law of Peace, the Haudenosaunee’s name for the constitution of their confederacy (see the Wikipedia entry for a brief introduction and the text of the Great Law).
Freida began her presentation with her people’s Thanksgiving Address (see here for a video of one version of the address). In the Iroquois Thanksgiving Address, you give thanks to all of the beings and elements and other spiritual presences around us. This is not a prayer of worship to the four-legged people and winged people, and the waters and the winds, and Mother Earth, etc. It is an expression of thanks to them for doing the jobs that the Creator gave them and for all the gifts that they give to us two-leggeds.
All Haudenosaunee events begin with the Thanksgiving Address. I have been to several and each person giving the address does it her or his own way. I have known it to last 45 minutes. I have been told that at ceremonial events, it might take several hours. The poet Gary Snyder has written a very abbreviated version.
After all this prologue, here is what I have to say in this post:
Thanksgiving
Thanksgiving is the very soul of indigenous peoples’ spiritways. It has almost no place at all in the Christian and Quaker way. Why is this so?
Instead of thanks for the contributions of all other creatures and earth processes and the elements of mother earth, we have the doctrine of discovery and the doctrine of dominion. Thanksgiving is built into the very structure of the religions of the First Nations of Turtle Island, and this includes a spiritually vital and intimate relationship with place—a religious culture of place. Christianity and Quakerism are cosmic and universalist, in that we speak of “the earth”, rather than of our landbase or bioregion, in our prayers, our theology, and our rituals, and our practice is virtually the same wherever we are, irrespective of our place.
Many Christian and some Liberal Quaker families give thanks over meals. That’s about it. Our liturgies may or may not include thanksgiving. It is not in any way central, or essential, or even habitual in our religious practice. Most yearly meetings have only relatively recently included testimonies on earthcare in their books of discipline and these often do not even mention thanksgiving. New York Yearly Meeting’s Faith and Practice (for which I am more than partly responsible) does not mention thanksgiving at all.
I suspect that this is because of the Christian dread of paganism and of the worship of the Powers of the earth. Because of the theology of sin, beginning with the belief in a Fall in which nature—an animal, a fruit, and a woman—are the sources of all sin and suffering, which leads to a fear of the spiritual power of nature and of its “temptations”. And because of the overwhelming focus on sin, a negative worldview that sees the basic human condition as broken and that reorients any thankfulness we might feel toward the source of sin’s salvation; that is, toward Jesus Christ and his Father the judge. And because of the resulting focus on the spiritual goal of noncarnal existence in a nonphysical heaven. This stands in contrast to a worldview oriented toward the positive gifts in material life, toward their sources in the world, and toward the Creator who provides them.
This blindness to the gifts of the earth and the gift-giving of its Creator, this pernicious self-centeredness and pathological worldview, this lameness of heart, lays a chasm—an obstacle of absence—between us and an earthcare that is deeply spirit-led. It has taken us two thousand years to find our way across, despite the prophetic ministries of Saint Francis, Hildegard of Bingen, and others, and of Jesus the Christ himself, whose own spiritual practice was deeply rooted in the landscape and ecology of his landbase of Palestine (more about this in later posts).
I felt inspired by Freida Jacques’s address and her attitude of gratitude. I felt ashamed of my own smallness of heart and my own people’s thanklessness.
A short history of the gathered meeting
July 18, 2013 § 17 Comments
On July 8, Bill Rushby wrote this in his comment on my post on The gathered meeting and Jesus the Christ—some questions:
I think there are important questions that are being missed here. In discussing this blog, we have moved off into “rabbit trails” concerning the theological basis of Quakerism.
No one here has offered an explication of the concept of “gathered meeting”. And, at least in this blog and discussion, the origins of this idea have yet to be probed. It would be useful to narrate some specific experiences of gathered meetings, both in the ministers’ (and other) journals/memoirs and in the personal recollection of the parties to this discussion. The theological context of these experiences would also be relevant.
I have been trying to explicate the gathered meeting in terms of experience and testing early Friends’ testimony that the gathered meeting has its origins, as an experience rather than as an idea, in Christ. I have been trying to square their testimony, which I believe, and their experience, which I trust, with my own. And I was just about to start a series that does describe my own experiences with the gathered meeting. Some other commenters have done this along the way, as well.
My approach so far is something of a departure for me. Usually I start a project like this with research and then try to make that concrete. This time, I’ve started with concrete experience and haven’t done any research, though all along my intellectual temperament has has lured back into the realm of ideas and the whole thing has been an exercise in theology.
I do think that the “idea” of the gathered meeting came from scripture, as did almost all the “ideas” of early Friends. And I’ve said already that I suspect that Matthew 18:20 is the original source for the idea, though I believe there are others. I remember Bill Taber mentioning Acts 15 in this regard, the so-called Council of Jerusalem, in which the disciples decide whether to accept Paul’s mission to the Gentiles. And, as I note below, there’s Matthew 23:37. But in fact, I don’t really know where this idea came from for sure, or, just as interesting to me, when Friends began using the phrase “gathered meeting”.
Still, Bill’s comment reminds me that I have covered some of the ground he seems to be looking for already in an article I wrote for the January 2013 issue of Spark, New York Yearly Meeting’s print journal, titled simply The Gathered Meeting. It’s too long to publish in this blog, except in installments and I don’t know if I want to do that. You can read it by following the link above. But I do want to excerpt at least one section of it, headed A Short History of the Gathered meeting. Here it is:
The gathered meeting runs as the essential thread of spiritual ignition in our tradition. This began with the original gathering experience of Jesus’ early followers. It reemerged in the birth of the Quaker movement, and in it Quakerism has found its Guide ever since.
The first recorded gathered meeting in our root tradition was the baptism of Jesus, in which all assembled shared a psychic experience of God’s revelation in some way. This continued in the event we call the transfiguration, in which Peter, James, and John were all caught up with Jesus in a vision of Moses and Elijah. Whatever else those events were, they were gathered meetings for worship in which Jesus and his friends were all gathered up into a shared religious experience. The defining example of a gathered meeting in our root tradition was Pentecost, in which several thousand were converted to the Way that Jesus taught in a manifestation of the Spirit through the apostles’ vocal ministry shortly after Jesus’ death.
The term gathered meeting comes, I suspect, from several passages in Christian scripture, and especially, from Jesus’ teaching in the gospel of Matthew, chapter 18, on how to elder wayward members. It ends with this promise: “wherever two or three are gathered in my name, there am I also.” This promise is the foundation of Quaker worship, and especially, of Quaker meeting for business in worship.
The first recorded gathered meeting in our Quaker tradition was the fulfillment of George Fox’s vision on Pendle Hill of a “great people to be gathered” (see note below)—the convincement of the Seekers at Firbank Fell in 1652, the initiation of the Spirit that jump-started our movement. The journal of George Fox and of many other early Friends and continuing through all the periods of Quakerism into at least the middle of the 19th century are full of descriptions of meetings that were covered by the Holy Spirit and “the power of The Lord.” (“The power of the Lord was over all” was their way of saying that a meeting was so overflowing with the Holy Spirit that some Friends quaked.)
Note: I wonder whether Matthew 23:37 may have been on George Fox’s mind when he saw “a great people to be gathered” in his vision on Pendle Hill at the beginning of his ministry: “O Jerusalem, Jerusalem, you who kill the prophets and stone those sent to you, how often I have longed to gather your children together, as a hen gathers her brood under her wings.” A number of other biblical passages use gathering in the harvested grain or the flocks as metaphors for the final judgment, and these may also have informed early Quaker use of the word “gathered”; examples include: Matthew 12:30, 13:30, 24:31, 25:26, 31-32, and Luke 3:17.
The gathered meeting and Jesus the Christ—some questions
July 5, 2013 § 24 Comments
A couple of commenters a while back raised the question of why I have focused so much on the Christ as the gatherer of the gathered meeting. The answer is that I don’t really know why. Or rather, that this is the direction in which I’ve been led, all unexpected. I have not been systematic in my approach to this series. Rather, I have been following trains of thought and publishing them when they seemed seasoned enough.
I have explored ways in which I feel that the consciousness of the gathered meeting corresponds to the glimpses we get in Christian scripture of the consciousness of the Christ, which has led me to speculate about the Christ as consciousness. In this regard, I can say that I believe we are “gathered in Christ” when we find ourselves in the gathered meeting, though I have not directly experienced Christ in that way.
So Friends in all ages have said of the gathered meeting, that they were “gathered in Christ”. But how exactly does the Christ “gather” a meeting? On the surface, this looks like a question that can only lead to what early Friends called “notions”, airy speculation that is, at best, only a shadow of the truth. But for theistic Friends, for whom this talk of consciousness misses the point, that Jesus the Christ is a distinct divine person active in the world and in our lives and in our meetings and capable of relationship, not some vague “consciousness”, then the question of how Christ gathers a meeting seems to me more than just a diversion.
Presumably, if he exists (and I believe he does) and he is present in the meeting, and the worshippers sense his presence, then some kind of “hub and spoke” connection gets made between the Christ and the individual worshippers. But what about the “rim”? How does the presence of the Christ enable the worshippers to sense each other in a gathered meeting? For this is one of the signature characteristics of the gathered meeting.
The answer might be that the Christ acts as a conduit for communication between worshippers, that our consciousnesses flow through the Christ as the hub of a wheel, as it were, and then on out to the other worshippers along the “rim”, to whom he is present also. To use a cybernetic analogy, we communicate with each other through the Christ much as computers communicate with each other through the server in a computer network.
The Christ consciousness serves the worshipping community as the medium through which we become spiritually present to each other. (I am tempted to explore John 15 along these lines: “I am the vine, you are the branches”; or John 14: “I am in my Father, and you are in me, and I am in you.”)
But I have reverted to my consciousness language again. This, as I said, may not satisfy the more theistic Friends among us, who, I suspect, focus more on communion with Christ than they do on communion with each other. They may have no such speculative and metaphysical approach to a “Christ consciousness” in the gathered meeting, but are satisfied simply to say that Christ gathers us and leave it at that.
I think I feel encouraged to pursue this consciousness angle because I have no direct experience of the Christ as the gatherer of the gathered meetings I’ve experienced. Moreover, I am hungry for more; the gathered meeting is all too rare among us these days. So I am seeking for ways to improve our chances of being gathered. I am looking for elements of both faith and practice that might foster the gathered meeting.
And I suspect that Christ is one of the key factors of faith. I can hear my Christian readers saying to themselves, no, Christ is THE key, the indispensable factor. But isn’t this just a confession of faith? Where is the evidence? Are there not gathered meetings in which no one experiences the Christ? Certainly, one does not have to believe in a divine Jesus Christ to experience the gathered meeting. So, in terms of actual experience, it’s not clear that a traditional faith in Christ is necessary. But that doesn’t mean that the Christ isn’t necessary.
In fact, I am inclined to agree that Christ is key. As I have said, I believe that Jesus the Christ actually exists, though I have not experienced him as such myself. Thus my own experience leads me to relax and expand my understanding of who and what the Christ is to explain what actually happens. This exploration of consciousness is part of my effort to do that.
I guess I’m evangelizing a new way to think about Christ. How did I end up here?
The gathered meeting—energy, presence, knowledge, and joy
June 26, 2013 § 4 Comments
Whatever else the gathered meeting is, it is an extraordinary consciousness. In my experience, this consciousness is one of energy, presence, knowledge, and joy.
The gathered meeting is exciting, thrilling, even, not just psychically or emotionally, but often physically, as well. In the gathered meeting, my body has felt charged, as though my whole nervous system was lit up. My head, especially, has felt like it was somehow pressurized, as though it wanted to burst, though not in a painful way. I have quaked.
The sense of presence has been very strong, but oddly generalized most of the time. I could sense the presence of the other worshippers quite palpably, but not usually the presence of any specific person in the room. There sometimes have been moments, though, when I did become more fully aware of individuals, but this hasn’t lasted very long.
And there was something else, too, a power or depth to the sense of the presence of the other worshippers. I am tempted to call it a synergy of the consciousnesses of the worshippers, a consciousness of the meeting, but that’s getting too specific about what is really just too mysterious to properly describe. All I know is that there is an extra aspect of power and depth that accompanies the sense of presence in the gathered meeting. I call it the Holy Spirit, as a way of saying that I sensed the presence of G*d, not as a discreet psychic entity with a personality, as we usually think of Jesus, and certainly not as a Supreme Being, as many people conceive of God, but rather more “generalized”, as a beatific energy and consciousness.
The gathered meeting brings “knowledge”, also, but like the sense of presence, this knowledge is indistinct, at least when the gathering happens in a regular meeting for worship. It doesn’t feel the way holding the knowledge of a fact in your mind does. It feels more like an extended sensation of discovery, the way you feel when suddenly something comes clear to you when reading a book, for instance, when you know you have just learned one of those things that will change the way you look at the world. You’ve had that experience of reading a book that opens you up. . . . It’s a special kind of “aha”, a discovery that carries a special sense of thrill and depth and significance.
For me personally, it resembles very closely the way I feel when I have a breakthrough in my Bible study and some puzzle or mystery comes clear. This has happened to me quite often, and some of these moments have remained with me quite vividly. It’s thrilling, that feeling: it swells your heart. It makes me eager to go find someone and tell them what I have just discovered. And it lasts for a while, minutes, sometimes many minutes. And it flashes back sometimes when I recall it, or especially, when I do eventually tell someone about it.
Yes, the knowledge that comes with the gathered meeting feels like that. But, unlike a discovery in Bible study, there isn’t any content to it. Just the feeling of knowing something important.
Unless we’re talking about a gathered meeting for business in worship. The gathered meeting for business in worship carries the same energy and sense of deep presence, but the knowledge is specific, intelligible, and capable of articulation. After struggling, perhaps, to find unity, maybe even in the face of deep divisions, suddenly the body knows what its decision is. Perhaps some powerful vocal ministry has drawn the Truth up from the Well in our midst and the meeting, upon recognizing it, suddenly precipitates into unity. The clerk or the recording clerk presents a minute and everyone acclaims their approval with extra enthusiasm, knowing that at last, they know the way, for it lies open before them.
Each of these aspects of the gathered meeting—energy, presence, and knowledge—inspire joy. The psychic and physical thrill are joyous. The sense of presence—of each other’s presence and the deeper something extra—gladden the heart, awakening a unique kind of love for each other and for G*d. And the knowledge, too, is deeply satisfying—to know that you have found something holy, that is, whole-making, however ineffable, or that, in doing G*d’s business, you share in the community’s communion of unity.
What a blessing the gathered meeting is.
The Gathered Meeting—Good News!
June 21, 2013 § 5 Comments
Friend John Edminster has been a very faithful reader and supporter of this blog. A while ago he shared with me a draft of a little piece of his that has reoriented me in this project of exploring a theology for Liberal Friends. One of his points is this:
We do not need a new theology; we need good news!
I agree. This has made me rethink how I approach this project.
In an earlier post, I defined “theology” as a way of talking about our religious experience. A “theology” can be thrilling, energizing, even transforming for a person like me, for whom the life of the mind and the life of the spirit are inseparable. But for most people, theology is just ideas, interesting at best, boring at least, and at worst, destructive and divisive.
“Good news”, on the other hand—a gospel—is a way to transform the world we live in and the lives we touch. Real “good news” won’t speak to everyone, either, necessarily. But for those it does reach, nothing will ever be the same.
For centuries the gospel of Christianity has been that Jesus the Christ has saved us from our sins. I’ve already said that, based on my own reading of Scripture, the gospel of salvation is mostly Paul’s good news, and that the gospel of Jesus is much more focused on ministry to the poor. But what is my good news?
I suspect that many Friends may find the question presumptuous and impertinent. Christian Friends, who deify Christ, may rankle at a mere mortal claiming an authority that they feel rests only in the Christ himself (or maybe in the Bible, though Quakers have traditionally held that, since Christ is a living presence to us all, he remains the ultimate authority, not the Bible).
Liberal Friends, on the other hand, may rankle at the idea of gospel itself: “gospel” smacks strongly of evangelism, and even of evangelicalism, of proclaiming a message you think people should not just hear, but accept—or else. I myself am unafraid of evangelism. For I do believe we have something transforming to proclaim.
That is, I believe that I have good news to proclaim—not just some ideas I think are cool or that might be useful to Friends. It actually does feel presumptuous to me to say this, yes, but that is how I feel.
By comparison, my “good news” is not as profound or transformative as the “good news for the poor” that Jesus proclaimed in Luke 4—an answer to their poverty, relief from their suffering, and deliverance from their oppression. My “good news” is much more modest. Perhaps I should just say that I can testify to the joy I have found among Friends in the gathered meeting for worship. This my good news:
- that each one of us is capable of direct, unmediated communion with G*d*—we know G*d directly through the joy and transformation we experience in the gathered meeting;
- that, even more astoundingly, our religious community—our Quaker meetings—are also capable of direct, unmediated communion with G*d; we know G*d directly through the collective healing and love and unity and joy and transformation we experience in the gathered meeting;
- that G*d’s revelation continues unbroken from the beginning of creation until now—we experience G*d’s revelation personally in the form of leadings to ministry, and in other ways, and collectively in the guidance and healing and love and unity and joy and transformation we experience in the gathered meeting, especially in the gathered meeting for business in worship and our other gatherings for discernment; and
- that G*d’s love inspires us and strengthens us to live outward lives that testify to the truths G*d has inwardly revealed to us individually and collectively—individually, we are called to live our lives as testimony to the Truth, while collectively, we have been gathered into unity on a gradually evolving and expanding set of testimonies.
My good news is that, in the gathered meeting, we have directly experienced wholeness of spirit, both as individuals and as worshipping communities. For hundreds of years we have seen the promise of direct communion with the divine fulfilled in the gathered meeting.
The world is hungry for this experience. It has come to doubt the promise of such a thing. We can testify to its ongoing reality.
* Every once in a while, I remind my readers that by “G*d” I mean the Mystery Reality behind our spiritual/religious experience—whatever that experience is. I am using an asterisk instead of an “o” in order to wrest the word from the habitual responses we often give it when we read it.
Seeking the gathered meeting
June 5, 2013 § 8 Comments
Seeking the gathered meeting
So what are the crucial factors that seems to help gather the meeting for worship most reliably?
Spiritual depth. First, I believe a critical mass of individuals who possess in themselves a certain spiritual depth makes a real difference.
Seasoning. Most likely, they are Friends who come already seasoned by regular immersion in the Spirit through their own devotional practice. Such elders are likely know the way already into their own depths (Bill Taber’s “first door” as he described it in his Pendle Hill pamphlet Four Doors Into Worship).
Preparation. Hopefully they also come to meeting that morning especially prepared, having spent a time, or a whole morning, in prayer, meditation, Bible study, or whatever practice helps them deepen, rather than listening to NPR or reading the New York Times, or diverting their minds with things that are likely to pull them outward from the depths. For families, preparation might include eating breakfast together and trying to make time for some family devotional practice.
Experience. Ideally, but not necessarily, a critical mass of participants have experienced the gathered meeting already, and so they know its joys and power. Their knowledge, their faith, and their yearning may help the meeting find its way to Bill Taber’s “third door” into worship, the one that leads to their collective center.
Ministry. Perhaps they possess the gift of vocal ministry, for it very often is a cascade of deep vocal ministry that draws the meeting into a gathered state.
Serving the meeting as elder. There are things one can do besides just radiate, and practicing them will make the gathered meeting more likely, whatever your spiritual depth. In fact, these practices develop one’s spiritual ‘muscles’. They may start as just exercises in your imagination; that’s fine. Eventually, they will bear fruit and blow your mind.
Prepare the meeting space. Come early, so that you have already started a meeting for worship when the other worshippers begin streaming in to their places. Welcome them inwardly and help them find the silence that is waiting for them.
Pray. Pray for the meeting; pray for those who rise to speak; pray for those who you know bear a burden or are unwell; pray for those whose burdens are unknown to you, but surely do exist; pray for the gathered meeting. Pray for our own deepening, awakening, and renewal. Pray for the gift of prayer, the ability to find a prayer so authentically within yourself that, when you pray it out loud, you draw the meeting into the spirit of prayer along with you. Pray to G*d, whatever that means to you, and not just for something in a general way—if you can. I do believe that such a “theistic” focus does sharpen our spiritual attention and that this is somehow more powerful than a more generalized sense of spiritual desire. But each person must find a way to pray that works for them.
Listen. Seek inwardly to recognize the need for ministry among your fellow worshippers—of any kind: pastoral, spiritual, material . . . Develop a pair of spiritual antennae. I like to focus on each person in the room individually for a moment long enough to let some impression emerge.
Commune. Try to commune with the angel of the meeting. Friends of old used to believe that every meeting had an angel, because of their reading of the second and third chapters of the Book of Revelation, which are letters addressed to the angels of seven churches in Asia Minor. That is, try to attune to the meeting: reach in to know that undefinable thing that we all recognize when we visit other meetings, how each meeting does have a distinctive feeling or spirit. It is hard to commune with the angel of your own meeting because it is partly a manifestation of your own spirit, and we are ever more blind to ourselves than to others; but it’s still a great exercise in communion.
Give thanks. Be specific in naming some of the things you are grateful for in your meeting, especially the people. Name specifically for yourself some of the spiritual gifts that members of the meeting bring to your community. Think about how you might nurture or even just acknowledge their gifts, as an act of gratitude.
Give love. Single people out and hold them in that love you feel. Single people out whom you do not particularly love and love them, too. That especially.
Ordered, open worship. It really helps when the meeting observes some of the basic conventions of Quaker worship:
Be on time. Very few (like zero) worshippers come into the meeting room late.
Wait. Friends allow at least 20 minutes of collective deepening before anyone speaks. Ministers give themselves and the meeting sufficient time to absorb the vocal ministry that came before them before they speak.
Ministry. Most importantly, all those who rise to speak should exercise a level of spirit-led discernment, such that their ministry deepens the silence and draws the meeting closer to the Life and Truth. Let me speak more concretely: deeply question for yourself any message that refers to superficial affairs, outward events, or that offers personal observations. Or at least, check to see that the affairs, events, or observations you feel led to share are not more superficial, outward, or casual than the vocal ministry that has already been offered. The goal of your self-discipline is that your message will draw the worshipping body more inward rather than outward, more toward a profound silence than toward busy thought, more toward love than toward fear or division.
Outward helps. Some additional outward practices seem, by the evidence, to support the gathering:
Proximity. Sitting close together, so that all can feel each other’s presence and no one feels that some worshippers are being left out—or leaving themselves out—by their remoteness. (I personally believe that it is the human aura that provides the medium for the psychic dimension of the gathered meeting.)
Space. A meeting room or space that feels like the enfolding wings of a dove, a space whose size, bench configuration, and walls give the feeling of warm and proximate enclosure without feeling confining.
Comfort. Reasonably comfortable seating.
Corporate knowledge and intention. A certain level of knowledge in the meeting—of the conventions of worship, of the traditions of Friends regarding ministry, of the existence, faith, and practice of the gathered meeting itself, certainly help the community gather. Most if not all of the worshippers should know that there is a there there, something deeply to be desired and worth the discipline required. Those who have experienced the gathered meeting should share their experiences, so that everyone in the meeting can feel their joy, acquire their faith, and share their hunger.
The meeting for business in worship. As I have said, several of the most gathered meetings I have experienced were meetings for business in which the worship fulfilled the community’s desire to do God’s work. Here are some things that help a business meeting become gathered:
The business meeting is a meeting for worship. This is the most important principle of all. We naturally do much of our mundane business in a rather mundane way. But even during the humdrum of meeting business, maintaining a considered, stately process with real pauses for deepening between agenda items keeps the body close to the center that it will need when more weighty matters come before it. Then, the key to arriving at spirit-led decisions is to worship—to wait truly on the Spirit to lead.
Spirit-led clerking. A clerk with the gift of discernment can sense when the body’s yearning for unity is real and help it find its way. Maintaining the sense of worship is really important; most important in this regard is it to protect the silence between contributions: give Friends enough time to recognize the truth in what someone has said (or the folly), before calling on the next speaker. Call for extended periods of silence when necessary. Feel your gut (I mean, literally pay attention to your abdomen). Breathe deeply. Pray. Listen for the littlest nudges inside you. Be willing to call on someone out of instinct, not feeling bound by the practice of first to rise, first to speak.
We all are clerks. Better yet would it be if all members of the worshipping body acted inwardly as though they, too, were clerking the meeting. Not that we should critique the clerk’s work, but that we should, like the clerk, pay closest attention to the movement of the Spirit in the meeting and seek ways, inwardly through prayer and, when led, in vocal ministry, to help lead the community into Truth and unity of spirit.
Corporate knowledge of Friends practice. Many Friends, unfortunately, come to the meeting for business in worship ignorant of our traditions. Meetings should regularly remind themselves that they are worshipping while they work, and they should take the opportunity to educate themselves about business gospel order, especially regarding the prerogatives of the presiding clerk. The main object of this education, vis a vis the gathered meeting, is to establish the meeting for business as a meeting for worship, which means that we rely on the Spirit to lead us into unity, not coming to a decision through consensus. No one in the meeting should feel free to hold the meeting hostage with their prejudice, and the clerk should not allow them to do it.
Love. Perhaps the most important factor is love, because it connects people so powerfully and we all understand it and possess it. However mature the worshippers—or not; however deep or shallow the “spiritual consciousnesses” of some of the participants, critical mass or not; all a meeting really needs to be gathered is love for each other. If enough Friends focus on that love, if enough Friends channel that love, silently in their hearts or vocally in their ministry, the meeting cannot help but fall into the Heart.
Even hate or conflict in the meeting cannot hinder a gathered meeting if enough worshippers channel sufficient love. Love of the enemy is perhaps the most powerful conduit to gathering that there is.
Grace. Then there is grace—the unexpected gift of God’s Presence. The fact that the meeting can be gathered spontaneously, without effort, just like that.
The Gathered Meeting—A call to ministry?
May 31, 2013 § 11 Comments
Over the past several posts, and over the past several weeks, I have quite unexpectedly become obsessed with the gathered meeting. I have discovered that, for me at least, the gathered meeting is the quintessential Quaker experience—and the essential Quaker experience. Not only does it embody all that we have to offer the world and to our members and attenders, it also is really the essence of Quaker religion—direct communion with the divine, both for the individuals present and for the gathered body as a whole.
With all the other stuff I’ve been saying, it seems I may have been working my way to the realization that I am called to a ministry of—ignition, I guess I’ll call it, a ministry of speaking, teaching, and traveling in the service of the gathered meeting—helping Friends develop a spiritual practice of listening and deepening that will prepare them to bring a full bucket to the gathering, and helping meetings develop spiritual nurture programs and religious education programs that would prepare those meetings to be gathered.
Who cares, really, whether it is the Christ who gathers our meetings? I don’t think he cares whether we recognize him or not. What matters is that we find ourselves in the Presence, that we truly are transformed, as individuals and as communities, that we feel the joy of unity of purpose, that we are open to God’s opening, that we revel in the overflowing of the Spirit, within us and among us.
Who cares what the metaphysics behind the gathered meeting is? I mean I’m interested. I’m really interested. But that feeling is nothing compared to the feeling of being gathered itself! What I really care about is what concrete things we can do to make the gathered meeting more likely in our meetings—like showing up to meeting on time and sitting close together, two simple, mundane things that seem to really make a difference.
I am thirsty—spiritually hungry and thirsty. Most of the world is hungry and thirsty for the presence of God in their lives. But I have drunk from the well. And I know where the well is. Right here inside my chest; right here in this meeting room.
In the center of our worship is a well that goes deep down to the Source itself. And each of us comes with a bucket. We come for the water of life, but we come with a bucket. The bucket is our attention, and our intention. The bucket is our preparedness and dedication. The bucket is a mind and a body seasoned in the practice of silence and attentive waiting. Our bucket is our faith—our knowledge—that direct communion with the divine is not only possible, but our heritage and birthright as Friends.
So I can bring my bucket, hopefully a large and tight and seasoned bucket, to the well of living water waiting in my own devotional practice and in the Quaker meeting for worship. I can lower it down and know that it will come back up filled to the brim.
But this is the wrong image, really. I do not have a bucket so much as I am a siphon. If I drop my mindsoul into the well of living water and my mindsoul is already primed, already holding at least a little Spirit, then when I draw upon that inexhaustible well, the Spirit will begin pouring out and it will seek to fill all present with its cool refreshment, until it has floated all that is buoyant within us, until its light has illuminated all darkness.
But it doesn’t just happen. I must prepare. I must rededicate myself to my own spiritual seasoning, so that I do come to meeting already primed. And I must help to prepare my meeting. I have never experienced a gathered meeting in my meeting. I know that many of our members and attenders have not either. Some do not even know what I’m talking about.
But my meeting has one of the two essential prerequisites—love. We really care for each other. We have great joy in each other’s beings. All we need is a little faith and knowledge that this glory is waiting for us, and a critical mass of Friends whose own inner lives are deep enough to reach the well with some regularity.
For this is our great gift to the world—direct experience of God. And writing about the gathered meeting has given me a mission—to evangelize this gift and to work to make it a much more common occurrence.
Gathered by—what?
May 10, 2013 § 1 Comment
Toward a theology for Liberal Friends, Part 8
In my last post, I argued that the consciousness we enter when we’re in a gathered meeting corresponds in some ways to the consciousness of the Christ as we see it defined in Christian Scripture: the consciousness of being anointed in the Spirit, as Jesus claimed to have been in Luke 4, and especially as we see manifested in the disciples at the Pentecost and repeated at Firbank Fell and in Quaker meetings ever since.
This was the testimony of early Friends, that they were being gathered as a people by Christ himself and that he was gathering their meetings for worship, as well.
For who else would it be? or what else would be going on? We have the testimony of scripture and the testimony of generations of Friends to confirm it and it is a reasonable assumption to make if you believe in the Christ and his promise to be with us “whenever two or three are gathered”. But what if you don’t believe in the Christ as a spiritual Power capable of being present with us today? Other answers are possible.
In my conversations with a couple of nontheists about what gathers us, they answered, “We gather ourselves.” Personally, I don’t see how “we ourselves”, the individual worshippers, as the agents of our own “gathering”, can alone account for the transcendental, psychic character of the gathered meeting. If it is just we ourselves who perform the miracle of gathering, then there must be something transcendental within each of us to accomplish it, something in human consciousness capable of psychic interaction with others. And there must be some medium in which this interaction takes place. What do you call these things?
Many Liberal Friends are ready with an answer to the first question: it is “that of God” within each of us that unites us in the gathered meeting. They say that “that of God” in me is capable of communicating transcendentally with “that of God” in you. One Friend I’ve talked to about this referred to a passage in Barclay’s Apology in this regard:
[God] causeth the inward life (which is also many times not conveyed by the outward senses) the more to abound when his children assemble themselves diligently together to wait upon him; that as “iron sharpeneth iron,” so the seeing of the face one of another, when both are inwardly gathered unto the Life, giveth occasion for the Life secretly to rise and pass from vessel to vessel; and as many candles lighted and put in one place do greatly augment the light, and makes it more to shine forth; so when many are gathered together into the same Life, there is more of the glory of God, and his power appears to the refreshment of each individual for that he partakes not only of the Light and Life raised in himself but in all the rest; and therefore Christ hath particularly promised a blessing to such as assemble together in his Name, seeing he will be “in the midst of them” (Matt. 18:20).
This Friend posited “that of God” within each of us as analogous to the candles and “the Life” in Barclay’s metaphor. She or he (I don’t remember who it was anymore) equated “that of God” with Barclay’s “glory of God” and “Light and Life”.
I am inclined to agree that these may just be different names for the same thing. The rich and varied vocabulary used by early Friends for God and Christ makes some room for the use and meaning of “that of God” among Liberal Friends today. If “continuing revelation” could lead Fox and early Friends to coin nearly a hundred new and distinctive terms for the Spirit and its work within us and among us, including “Light and Life”, why could it not lead Rufus Jones and modern Liberal Friends to do the same with “that of God”?
This doesn’t get us very far, however. The phrase “that of God” just begs the question of what we mean by “God”, and what we mean by “that of”. So we are forced to backtrack toward Barclay and talk about God anyway, something that most Friends who use this phrase do not do. In fact, ignoring ironically the presence of God in their phrase, many Friends use the phrase “that of God” to avoid talking about God; they use it virtually in place of God.
Since the belief that “there is that of God in everyone” is the essential tenet of Liberal Quaker faith (if not virtually the only tenet), I will return to it in some depth in later posts. Indeed, because it is so ubiquitous and significant among Liberal Friends, I could very well have started this whole project with a discussion of this phrase. But I wanted to start closer to the historical core of our tradition.
As for the medium for the psychic dimension of the gathered meeting, this, I believe, is the real question. I know of no Liberal Quaker explanation for the psychic or metaphysical mechanism for the phenomenon of the gathered meeting. To be honest, though, Christian Quakerism isn’t any better. George Fox was hardly interested in metaphysics at all, Barclay is satisfied with “the glory of God” and “the Light and Life”, and Friends have followed their lead ever since. It has been enough to say we are “gathered in Christ” without bothering to unpack what that means or how Christ does it.
Metaphysics is by definition speculation; it therefore is not essential to a vital Quaker faith and practice. But it is fun (at least for me) and not irrelevant. In fact, I feel that, to be faithful to the testimony of integrity, we owe it to ourselves to be more robust in our thinking than we have been so far about something that is so important to us. So I want to delve more deeply into the psychic or metaphysical mechanisms of the gathered meeting in a later post.
Right now I want to continue exploring this thread of the Christ’s role in the gathered meeting. To sum up my point in this post, it seems to me that the alternatives I’ve heard to our being “gathered in Christ”—that we do it ourselves and that we are gathered in “that of God” within each of us—do not explain its extraordinary psychic, transcendental character. These alternatives raise more questions than they answer. But I feel equally strongly that saying we are “gathered in Christ” hardly does any better.
What does “gathered in Christ” mean and how does he gather us? That’s my topic for my next post.
The Gathered Meeting and the Christ
April 28, 2013 § 1 Comment
Toward a “Theology” for Liberal Friends, Part 7
As I wrote in the last post, the experience of gathering in the gathered meeting is a psychic bonding of the worshippers in a shared consciousness of presence, unity, and joy. The worshippers are present to each other, aware of each other’s presence, and we share a unity of mind and spirit. And the knowing and the sharing fill us with a sometimes marvelous joy.
This shared consciousness, this meeting of the worshippers’ consciousnesses, this intimacy between our minds and our spirits, this being conscious of each other’s intention, creates a super-consciousness—a living synergy of mind and spirit that is greater than the sum of our individual consciousnesses. This “greater-than-ness” suffuses us individuals with a fullness of mind, a fulfillment of spirit, and a transcendental joy. At least, that is how I have experienced it.
This synergy of the gathered meeting, the psychic sharing, the oneness that is greater than the sum of the one-nesses—what is this? How shall we name it?
Suppose we name it the Christ. (Let’s put aside for a moment the relationship between the Christ and Jesus—just for a moment.) I say “the Christ” because “Christ” is not a name but a title. In the Greek of Christian scripture, “christos” means anointed. (In the Hebrew of Hebrew scripture, “messiah” means anointed. Christos is the word the Greek-speaking evangelists used to say “messiah” in their gospels.) This word means a lot of things in a lot of different contexts. Let me try to describe what I think it means in the context of the gathered meeting.
First let me define the Christ in terms of consciousness, working from the testimony of scripture. Usually we define Christ as the person Jesus, in his aspect as God’s son, almost as though “Christ” was his surname. (I want to get more deeply into what “God’s son” means in a later post.) I will therefore most often speak of “Jesus the Christ” rather than of “Jesus Christ”. But here, let’s think about what “the Christ” means in terms of consciousness. I want to approach it from two different angles—the meaning Jesus himself gave to his role as the Christ, and the meaning that the tradition has given—and I want to put them both in the context of the gathered meeting.
The consciousness of the Christ—as Jesus defined it
“Christ-hood”, “messiah-ship”, as Jesus himself defined it can be found in Luke 4:16-30. This is the only place in the synoptic gospels in which he explicitly defines his role as the Christ, and this makes it, in my opinion, the most important passage in Christian scripture.
Luke emphasizes this importance in several ways with the structure of the narrative. These are the first words Jesus utters in his public ministry in Luke’s gospel. Luke puts these words in a formal setting: Jesus has just emerged from his sojourn in the wilderness after his anointing of the spirit at his baptism and his testing by the Adversary in the wilderness, and it is a homecoming—Jesus has returned to his home town to make a formal pronouncement about his mission, much as a modern politician will declare her or his candidacy in their home town. He sets the vignette in Jesus’ home town synagogue, a place dedicated to worship and teaching, to proclaiming God’s world. And the words themselves are formal—he first reads a quote from the prophet Isaiah, then makes a formal pronouncement that he is fulfilling the prophecy here and now.
Because of their importance, I quote at some length (Luke 4:17-21):
He unrolled the scroll and found the place where it is written: “The spirit of Yahweh God is upon me, because he has anointed me [‘christ-ed’ me, ‘messiah-ed’ me]; he has sent me to proclaim [evangelion, the root of our word evangelism] good news to the poor/oppressed, to bind up the brokenhearted; to proclaim liberty to the captives and release to the prisoners; to proclaim the year that Yahweh favors” [the year of Jubilee mandated in Leviticus 25, in which all debts are forgiven, all debt slaves are released, all families that have lost their inheritance to foreclosure are returned to their family farms, and all fields are to lie fallow].
And he rolled up the scroll, gave it back to the attendant, and sat down. The eyes of all in the synagogue were fixed on him. Then he began to say to them, “Today this scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing.”
(Note that the text I have quoted Jesus as reading comes directly from Isaiah (Isaiah 61:1-2); it is not the text given in Luke. Luke, a Greek speaker, was working with the Septuagint, an early translation of Hebrew scripture into Greek. But the synagogue in Nazareth where Jesus has been invited to be a guest rabbi and read the Torah would have used a Hebrew text, not the Greek. The text reads slightly differently in Hebrew and Greek and, for reasons I won’t go into here, I prefer the original Hebrew.)
Jesus has just declared that he is the one who has been promised by Isaiah, who has been anointed by God’s holy spirit. “Christ-hood”, as Jesus defines it in his own case, is an anointing of the spirit. Christ-hood is a consciousness. It is the anointing, the inspiration, of the Holy Spirit, which has imbued him with the spiritual authority to proclaim God’s kingdom on God’s behalf, with the knowledge of the kingdom’s essential elements (its contents, if you will, his teachings), and with the charismatic power to implement it, to heal, teach, convince, and forgive in God’s name.
This consciousness was personal—it was Jesus’ consciousness. But it was also collective—it could be shared. Jesus could raise it up in others, as he did for Peter, James and John at the Transfiguration, and when he healed people or persuaded them with his preaching. And the community shared in this consciousness when the community itself was imbued with the Holy Spirit, as it was at the Pentecost, as it was when it met for the common meal, for community teaching and distribution of poor relief, as we see in Acts 2 and 4, and when it met to decide on Paul’s Gentile mission (Acts 15). The Transfiguration, the Pentecost, the lifestyle of discipleship that we see glimpses of in Acts—these we could describe as gathered meetings for worship.
“The Christ” (among other things) is the consciousness of the gathered meeting, in which the worshippers are imbued with the same spirit that anointed Jesus as the Christ.
Now this has all been my interpretation of scripture, just the kind of top-down, ideas-driven handling of our legacy that I said at the beginning of this series I was not going to rely on. I didn’t say I wouldn’t do it, only that I would not rely on it as the starting point or benchmark for my project of Liberal Quaker theology. Instead, I resolved to rely on experience, which we know to be true because we have experienced it. I diverted to this kind of theologizing in order to establish a context for what I will say in a moment. But first, let’s focus for a moment on the more common and traditional definition of the Christ—as savior. From there we will segue into the experience of the gathered meeting.
The consciousness of the Christ—as the tradition defines it
“The Christ”, according to traditional Christian theology, but here restated in somewhat new terms, is the consciousness raised up by God in Jesus for the salvation of God’s people, for their redemption, for their healing. It is the consciousness that saves us from the Adversary—from our tendency to do wrong and from the conflicts that prevent our unity. “The Christ” is the consciousness that redeems us from our debts (“forgive us our debts as we forgive our debtors”), in which we are forgiven because we forgive each other for our failure to give each other what we owe each other—that is, love. The Christ is the consciousness that makes us whole as a worshipping community, and in doing so, it also makes the individual members of the community whole, if only for a moment. The Christ is the consciousness of those who live in the kingdom. The Christ is love.
That’s also a description of the gathered meeting. “The Christ”—among other things—is the consciousness of the gathered meeting, in which the worshippers are reconciled to God and made one, made whole, set free from the captivity of the self.
I am reversing the vector of semantics here: Instead of defining the gathered meeting as the work of the Christ, I am defining the Christ as the spirit of love, unity, and joy that we experience in the gathered meeting.
The gathered meeting is an anointing of the spirit, an ascent, if you will, into Christ-consciousness.
But where does Jesus the Christ fit into this? I will explore this question in the next entry.
What is the gathered meeting?
April 27, 2013 § 2 Comments
Toward a “Theology” for Liberal Friends, Part 7
The following is an excerpt from an article I wrote for New York Yearly Meeting’s newsletter Spark. The January 2013 issue was devoted to the gathered meeting and you can read all the articles on the gathered meeting in that issue here: Spark, January 2013. You can read my article in its entirety by clicking here: The Gathered Meeting.
We have two wonderful discussions of the gathered meeting in Quaker writings, that of Thomas Kelly in his classic little pamphlet of that title, and William Taber’s discussion in Four Doors Into Quaker Worship.
I would like to add my own observations and meditations, based on my own experience of the gathered meeting.
Several of the gathered meetings I’ve experienced have occurred during a meeting for worship with a concern for business, in moments when seemingly insurmountable obstacles to unity suddenly melted away and the body was able to go forward in joy, usually following some powerful vocal ministry.
In that moment, the worshippers are present to each other, aware of each other’s presence, and we share a unity of mind and spirit: we see our way forward together and the sharing fills us with a kind of joy. Joy—that is the hallmark of the corporate religious experience of gathering—a thrilling sense of knowledge, a bonding of the worshipers in a shared consciousness of presence, unity, and joy.
This shared consciousness, this meeting of the worshipers’ consciousnesses, this intimacy between our minds and our spirits, this being conscious of each other’s intention, creates a supra-consciousness—a living synergy of mind and spirit that is greater than the sum of our individual consciousnesses. This “greater-than-ness” suffuses us individuals with a fullness of mind, a fulfillment of spirit, and a transcendental joy.
In the gathered meeting, we are lifted up, and when we look around us, we see that others have been lifted up, as well. And we all know.
We know the truth, the truth of that moment, a momentary miniature of a transcendent truth that is deeper than what we are experiencing at the moment and yet one with it. Usually, this t/Truth comes through some inspired vocal ministry. When experienced in the meeting for business in worship, this vocal ministry gathers all the threads of seeking together into a bundle of greater truth that opens the way for the meeting into unity of purpose.
In the silence of a meeting for just worship, it can come as a cascade of increasingly powerful vocal ministries, in which each offering sinks us even deeper into that peace that passes all understanding.
In that moment, we also know each other. Not in some outward sense, but inwardly and psychically. We sense each other as present. We each know the truth of that moment, and somehow we also know that the others know! And they know that we know. And we know that they know that we know. We all have been gathered up into a cloud of all-knowing—not that we know all, but that we all know.
All this is real. We know that it is real because we have suddenly found ourselves in unity and in joy.
And yet it is transcendental. It transcends the senses, certainly, since no one has said or done anything to confirm its reality—we just know. It transcends usual consciousness. And it transcends individuality—it is a collective experience.
And this knowing of each other and of the Truth and the joy that comes with it—this is knowing God. Or, to turn the semantics around, the mystical collective knowledge of God is, for Friends, the concrete experience of being gathered, of being lifted up into the cloud of all-knowing in the gathered meeting for worship.
So I’ve brought God into the conversation again. In the next post I want to be more specific. I want to connect the gathered meeting to Jesus the Christ.