“That of God” and our testimonies

August 13, 2013 § 21 Comments

Two minutes of conscience came before New York Yearly Meeting Summer Sessions this year, one on gun violence and another on drone warfare (see below). The assembled body was unable to come to unity on either of them for various reasons and they were, I believe, returned to our Witness Coordinating Committee, the committee that oversees the witness life of the Yearly Meeting, including its witness committees. For my own reasons, I agreed that the minutes needed more seasoning and that we did not have the time to fix them from the floor. In fact, I think fixing such minutes from the floor is almost always a bad idea.

One of the main reasons I could not approve these minutes, even though I agree with the general impulse behind them both, was the religious rationale they gave for our stand in conscience. Specifically, they both cited the belief that there is that of God in everyone and, as the drone warfare minute expressed it, “therefore every life is sacred.”

Over the past several decades, Friends have increasingly based our peace testimony, and indeed, all our testimonies, on the belief that there is that of God in everyone. This idea has even worked its way into our books of discipline. This is bad history, bad theology, and a cross to our testimony of integrity.

History

It just is not true that our peace testimony is founded on the belief in that of God in everyone. It is founded on passages in Christian scripture. I recommend Sandra Cronk’s excellent pamphlet Peace Be With You: A Study of the Spiritual Basis of the Friends Peace Testimony for a detailed treatment of the passages early Friends turned to for their rejection of violence.

We have only used the phrase “that of God in everyone” in the sense implied in these minutes since the turn of the 20th century when Rufus Jones popularized the “mystical” reading of the phrase. I’m not quite sure, but I think we have only been using it to explain our stand on nonviolence since about the 1960s.

Friends have largely forgotten that Rufus Jones gave us this new, “mystical” redefinition and assume that George Fox himself believed in some kind of divine spark in humans. This gets into a rather complex new reading of Fox that I discuss in earlier posts, but here I would say that he did believe that Christ does in some way inhabit the human at some deep level, but this is not the same thing as believing in “that of God” as some kind of generalized “divine spark” in us that has no connection to Jesus Christ. So, with the use of this phrase, Friends also have unconsciously reinvented Fox.

Bad history.

Theology

Both minutes imply that we do not harm others because we believe that this “that of God” in people somehow makes their lives sacred. But what do we really mean by that? What do we mean by “that of”? What do we mean by “God”? And what do we mean by “that of God”? Nobody ever unpacks this sloppy talk. We just seem to assume that everybody knows what we’re talking about. Well, maybe we do. I’ve gone on at length about this elsewhere, and I plan to return to it again, because I think this phrase deserves better from us, that our tradition deserves better from us, and that the people we are talking to with such minutes deserve better from us.

But I think George Fox would say that we have the dynamics of our relationship with “that of God” backwards. We do not reject violence because we recognize that of God in others; we reject violence because that of God within ourselves turns us away from evil and toward peace, love, and the good. It is “that of God” in us that moves with the Holy Spirit and gives rise to our testimonial life.

We do not reject violence because we believe in that of God in everyone. We reject violence because we experience the transforming power of the Light within us. Fox and Quakers for hundreds of years after Fox would have said that it was the light of Christ within us that turns us away from evil of all kinds, not some belief.

Belief is malleable and to a large extent socially defined and, in the case of “that of God”, inherited as an idea from our Quaker forebears, starting with Rufus Jones. Belief is held in the outward mind. Even a sincere belief in that of God is secondary; such a belief properly derives from our inward experience, also, that is, from that of God within ourselves, rather than from some legacy we have inherited. Once we have experienced the first motion of love, then we have grounded our belief experimentally.

Our use of “that of God” to explain our peace testimony is just bad theology. Or, if you don’t like the word “theology”, let’s call it irresponsible talk.

Integrity

All of this means that our unreflective, casual, indiscriminate, anti-historical, sloppy, and vague use of “that of God” to explain our testimonies . . . crucifies the truth. It crucifies the truth on the cross of ignorance, laziness, and convenience.

Well maybe that’s a little harsh. Because we’ve drifted blindly and dumbly into a new testimony, haven’t we, by virtue of the fact that we have been doing it for so long now. We have bedecked the foyers of our meetinghouses with our claim that there is that of God in everyone, never mind that we can’t really explain what that means. We have written it into the Faith and Practices of our yearly meetings. Everybody believes it now. It’s practically the only thing we do believe.

So maybe it is the truth now. Maybe this phrase is the new foundation for our testimonies. Maybe we don’t need breadth and depth and clarity in our testimonies any more. Just an easy answer and a little confidence. A sound bite to stick into our minutes that at least gives us something quasi-spiritual to say, so that our minutes of conscience are not totally secular humanist (which they often are). Maybe we do need just a simple phrase that won’t burden the minute with lots of “theology” or—God forbid—the taint of biblical language.

Gun violence minute

From the very beginning, Friends have opposed all outward forms of violence. We affirm the fundamental Quaker belief that there is that of God in everyone, including each person whose life is taken by a gun, and in each who takes the life of another. We support social and political initiatives, including legislation, to

  1. Eliminate the availability of military-style assault weapons,
  2. more firmy regulate gun purchases and require background checks for all purchasers,
  3. regulate the manufacture of firearms, and
  4. provide better mental health services.

We commit ourselves to be more active in working to reduce the death toll from guns, and more broadly we renew our traditional commitment to seeking nonviolent alternatives in our violence-prone society.

Drone warfare minute

The following minute against drone warfare originated at Orange Grove Meeting of California, and has recently been approved by 15th Street Monthly Meeting of New York City and also by New York Quarterly Meeting. These meetings encourage other meetings to adopt this coast-to-coast effort.

As Friends (Quakers) who believe there is “that of God” in everyone and therefore every life is sacred, we are deeply concerned about the proliferation of lethal unmanned aerial vehicles, commonly known as drones. The United States is leading the way in this new form of warfare where pilots in US bases kill people, by remote control, thousands of miles away. Drones have become the preferred weapons to conduct war due to the lack of direct risk to the lives of U.S. soldiers, but these drone strikes have led to the death of hundreds of innocent civilians (including American citizens) in countries where we are not at war, including Pakistan, Yemen and Somalia.

We urge our government to put an end to this secretive, remote-controlled killing and instead promote foreign policies that are consistent with the values of a democratic and humane society. We call on the United Nations to regulate the international use of lethal drones in a fashion that promotes a just and peaceful world community, based on the rule of law, with full dignity and freedom for every human being.

Quakers, Our Business, and the Minutes

August 10, 2013 § 4 Comments

The problem

I keep notes on Quaker process when I attend meetings for business in worship, looking for patterns, problems, ideas, or just comments to myself when something catches my notice. Many times I have watched a meeting follow roughly the process outlined below when pursuing a piece of business and it disturbs me. I also have some suggestions about how to avoid the pattern this outline describes. Have you had this experience, and do you have suggestions for fixing it? Here’s the pattern I see:

  1. We labor over a piece of contentious business until a direction seems to have emerged.
  2. The clerk asks the recording clerk for a minute; when it’s ready,
  3. the clerk asks the body, “Do Friends approve?”
  4. A chorus of “Approve”s follow the question.
  5. Then hands go up, or Friends stand—whatever the practice of the meeting is for asking the clerk to recognize you. They are not happy with the minute.
  6. Because these Friends are not comfortable with the decision, or at least they have something they feel they must say, we then dive back into the discussion.
  7. So we return to our discernment, only this time we do it after having already approved something, and that feels weird. And now we often do it by editing the minute rather than by speaking to the matter directly: Friends rise to criticize some aspect of the minute or to offer some correction or amendment. Essentially, we have spiraled back to #2, with the body now acting as recording clerk. Yikes. I hate watching Quakers try to do important business by editing a minute.
  8. At some point, we once again reach #3—some sense of the meeting—and the clerk again asks for approval.
  9. Enter another chorus of “Approve!”s.
  10. Then—when things are really bad—hands go up again and we return to this cycle of purgatory, in which Friends continue to criticize, correct, and amend the minute.
  11. We plod on, often until exhaustion claims the sense of the meeting.

I have seen some version of this cycle occur many, many times—Friends insisting on speaking after approval has been voiced for a minute, and then flogging the minute until it’s been distorted into some shape that no one feels ready to criticize, and we close the matter out of a sense of exhaustion or pity.

Do you recognize this pattern in the meetings you attend?

On the face of it, this is mainly an issue for clerks, who, it would seem, have prematurely presented a minute to the body without allowing it full collective discernment. But it would be wrong to blame the clerks for what is quite universal practice among us now, and which many of us take for granted. In fact, I suspect that many Friends may not even see the pattern as a problem.

No, it’s not a clerking problem. It is rather a cultural problem that has much to do with taking a habitual clerking style for granted, with the pressures of the clock on our business agendas, and with a sense of entitlement concerning vocal ministry in meeting for business in worship.

I would like to present three practices that I think would help to head off this kind of spiral into what I consider (rather extremely, I admit) to be Quaker-practice hell:

  1. A more ordered way to present contentious business items to the body.
  2. An alternative way to present minutes to the body.
  3. A radically different way to seek the body’s approval on the decision.

Presenting the matter of business

Many articles of business are not very weighty and even verge on the pro forma. But when something comes up that is important and likely to be controversial, you can help the body find its way to unity by sorting out the kinds of ministry you will ask for from the body and then asking for them separately. By “kinds of ministry” I mean

  1. the facts—Friends’ clarity or confusion about the facts of the matter and its history, 
  2. the feelings—Friends’ emotional responses to the matter, and 
  3. the solution—Friends’ proposals for decision or action. 

In such cases, it helps to take these “kinds of ministry” one at a time:

Clarity

Start with a presentation, carefully prepared, of the history of the matter, explaining how it has ended up before the body and what kinds of discernment it has already received. It’s helpful when someone besides the clerk does this, so that the clerk can watch the members of the body for their reactions while the report is being given.

  • Then ask for questions from the floor that are about matters of clarity only, firmly asking Friends who want to say something else to wait until the body considers that aspect of the situation. Here, we mostly are talking about emotional venting. Over time, a given meeting will become accustomed to this three-phase process and will follow the process with some discipline.
  • When a request for more questions about points of fact or clarity elicits no more responses from the body, then . . .

Emotions

Open the discussion to expressions of feeling regarding the matter—allow venting. Let the venting continue until it is clear that everyone has had their say. Encourage those who are displeased with some aspect of the matter to express themselves. This is perhaps the most important thing to get right.

  • Try to be sure that the members of the body really are done venting before you move on to “stage 3”. Do this by making a final request for more ministry related to feelings when things seem to have wound down or someone jumps to the next stage naturally. Let your last request for emotion-related ministry stretch into a relatively long period of silence to make sure everyone is done.
  • Then extend this silence some more with an invitation to enter into deeper worship before we move on to Friends’ ministry toward a solution.

Solutions

After this period of worship, open the meeting to vocal ministry toward a solution or decision.

  • During this last phase of the process, remind Friends that we have had an opportunity to express our feelings, though Friends will probably revert to venting occasionally.
  • Consider letting Friends know that you will cut short any clear attempts to vent rather than offer a solution to the matter.
  • However, if Friends just cannot keep themselves from getting things off their chest again, then formally return to the venting phase and let go of finding a solution until it seems that the body really is ready.

Testing minutes verbally

When the subvocal assents, body language, and vocal ministry suggest that the meeting may be reaching unity on a direction, the presiding clerk articulates a test minute, presenting it as a test minute, rather than having the recording clerk read a written minute. For her or his part, the recording clerk records what the clerk says.

  • This is the way we did things for a very long time. The practice of relying on recording clerks to write minutes that are then read to the body is now so long-standing and so universal, that many Friends do not know that we ever did it otherwise. But, when a meeting is struggling with a matter that is very contentious, it often works much better to rely on the presiding clerk to verbally float a minute while the recorder records. There’s something about the reading of a written minute that sets in motion a new phase in the dynamics of the meeting, one that makes further discernment more complicated.
  • So the clerk verbally floats a minute and then invites Friends to respond. Further discussion ensues. Usually, the body will start tweaking the verbal minute; sometimes someone will start off in an all new direction, once they have become clear what the clerk thinks the direction is and they don’t agree. Eventually, some new sense of the meeting will begin to emerge.
  • At this point, the presiding clerk reiterates this process, floating a new tentative expression of her or his sense of the meeting. S/he keeps reiterating this process until the body no longer offers changes in new ministry to a test minute.
  • The recording clerk has been recording the test minutes all along and has already recorded the final version when it finally arrises.

Asking for approval

The greater problem with our habitual process lies in the way we ask for approval for a minute. When the clerk has spoken a verbal test minute and asked for comment and no one has risen to speak, instead of asking the body to call out its approval, the presiding clerk should ask one more time whether Friends have any further objections, corrections, or additional ministry. Do it clearly, as a last call.

One of the reasons people still want to speak after a minute has been approved is that most of us have a natural aversion to speaking against the direction that the body seems to be going. It is especially hard to call out “No” when many other Friends are calling out “Approve!” But when it comes down to it, our discomfort often wins out, as it should when we are not in unity with the decision. So, to reiterate, here’s what we should do instead:

  • We keep encouraging Friends to speak until Friends stop asking to be recognized, letting time stretch out into worship when there is a lull—for there almost always is some further ministry after the first couple of lulls.
  • At some point, though, when the clerk asks for further ministry upon the latest test minute, no one will rise to speak. At this point, the clerk should formally ask the body if G*d has given anyone anything further to say. This last formal appeal is important. It’s a last call for vocal ministry. And I think it’s important to get G*d involved—to remind Friends that we are in worship and seeking the guidance of the Holy Spirit, before we go to the written minute.
  • If no one asks to speak, it’s useful at this point to confer with the recording clerk briefly to make sure that the recorder’s written text corresponds to the verbal version the body has been working with.
  • Then ask the recording clerk to read the last minute verbally expressed by the presiding clerk and ask one final time for vocal ministry.
  • If still no one asks to speak, the clerk can say, “May I then take your silence as approval?”

Here it is:

This is the real innovation in this approach to clerking—not to ask for a voiced approval from the body, but to ask whether the silence means approval.

If no one responds to this last request for ministry, the clerk can then declare the minute approved. This way approval comes in a holy silence, rather than in a chorus of “Approve!”s.

This process seems to take longer than our habitual (but not traditional) one; sometimes it really is longer. But it feels better and it nurtures greater unity with the decision. It also virtually eliminates the need to read back the minutes for approval because the minutes have already been approved. And it often reduces the time that the recording clerk sometimes needs to finish crafting the minute.

This approach redefines the roles of presiding and recording clerks. Nowadays, recording clerks are chosen because of their facility with words and some gift for discernment. Presiding clerks often are chosen for a wider set of gifts, though discernment ought, of course, to be one of them. The approach I have just laid out does diminish the role of recording clerk and it lays a new burden on the presiding clerk, who, it is often thought, has enough to do with just shepherding the meeting process.

I suggest that the recording clerk serve more actively as an assistant clerk and that the two clerks actively confer with each other throughout this process about the progress of the discussion, rather than obsessing about getting a good minute. It may even be useful for the recording clerk to write the test minutes for the presiding clerk to then verbally share with the body. I think it’s less important who crafts the minutes and more important that the presiding clerk take responsibility for reading the sense of the meeting—not just the readiness of the meeting to hear a minute—and that the final written minute only be read after the body has labored over tentative verbal minutes and all have had their say.

I learned some aspects of this process from Jan Hoffman.

The Gift of Healing

August 3, 2013 § 2 Comments

Several years ago I studied the passages in Paul’s letters on gifts of the Spirit (1 Corinthians 12–14, Romans 12, and Ephesians 4) and developed a workshop in which Friends mapped Paul’s extensive list to their own Quaker experience, expanded it to include things he had not considered, and most important, helped each other identify each other’s gifts.

Paul seems to think that the gift of prophecy is the most important, but I came away from my research and the experience of doing the workshop feeling that the gift of healing was the most important. It is the most concrete of them all, it does the most to relieve real suffering in the world.

At the time, I lamented to myself that the gift of healing was also the most rare these days. But I was wrong. The gift of healing is alive and well among Friends; at least it is in New York Yearly Meeting and certainly at the annual Gathering of Friends General Conference, I have attended the Gathering only once and only for one day, but I am well-acquainted with New York Yearly Meeting.

New York Yearly Meeting’s annual Summer Sessions are held at a historic YMCA resort on Lake George. The campus is large and beautiful and it has several pavilions, single-story buildings about twenty feet on a side, with glass windows all around and a sizable porch. For several years, NYYM Friends have used one of these pavilions as a healing center, modeled, I believe, on the healing center at the FGC Gatherings, and the place is well-used.

Healers practicing a wide range of healing modalities sign up for time slots that fit their schedule and clients either sign up or just show up. Every time I passed the healing center, the place was abuzz. I have never gone myself, either as a healer or a client. One day . . .

Moreover, conferences held at the Yearly Meeting’s conference center, Powell House, very often have someone who offers healing work during the breaks and rest times. Powell House has also offered conferences for healing, regularly bringing in John Calvi, and occasionally hosting weekends intended for the deepening and sharing of this wonderful gift among our members.

As a community, New York Yearly Meeting welcomes and nurtures the gift of healing.

I have not heard of any miraculous cures. But Friends are serving because they believe they are doing some good and Friends are going because they believe they are being done some good. And all of this is being done in the spirit of Quaker ministry. I think it’s a great blessing.

It is a blessing not just because people are being healed. One of the greatest blessings in my own religious life as a Friend has been to live and worship in a community that recognizes spiritual gifts and that provides opportunities to people who have a call to ministry to use their gifts and pursue their call. In its gatherings, New York Yearly Meeting does a pretty good job of this.

I am not so sure about our local meetings, though. I am afraid that many of our local meetings do not even think about spiritual gifts, let alone actively work to identify them in their members and attenders and then help to deepen them and support the ministries that arise from them. For this, meetings would need elders, people equipped to do this work of service to ministers, and a vital culture of eldership that supports the naming and nurture of spiritual gifts and ministries.

How many meetings have healers amongst them? Most meetings, I would guess, at least in the Liberal branch that I know fairly well, since we have so many members in medicine and the social services. Do we encourage our nurses and doctors, our therapists and social workers, to see their work in the world as a ministry, as service to G*d (whatever that means to them)? Do we make ourselves available to them for support? Do we help to make their services available to our own membership?

I know that my meeting’s pastoral care committee works with the therapists and social workers in our meeting—they serve on the committee and they serve as consultants when the committee needs advice. I’m not sure whether they think it’s professionally advisable to offer services to the membership, because we all know one another so well. But Philadelphia Yearly Meeting maintains a roster of such Friends on whom my meeting or a member could call at need. (I’m a member of Yardley Meeting in Philadelphia YM; I don’t think New York Yearly Meeting has such a list or provides this service.)

What about your local meeting? or your regional or yearly meeting? How fares the gift of healing among you?

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.