Releasing Friends from my expectations

Over on Beppeblog, Beppe has created a series of posts about what's troublesome to him about contemporary liberal Friends these days. Related to one such post, as I was typing a comment, I began to understand why I carry a sense of grief about the spiritual diversity of the monthly meeting that holds my membership. Not only why I carry grief, but also how I have been expressing that grief in an unintentional manner.

Sadly, in my humanness, I have often failed to base my testimony of Quakerism on my own direct experience of the faith. Instead, I have extended, extrapolated, and projected my experience—or more precisely, my hopes of that experience—onto other Friends.

It is only now beginning to dawn on me that such extrapolation and projection has been the result of my concern for the diminishment of a set of Quaker practices that holds much life for me. In my frustration and my grief over unmet expectations I have had, I had been wishing that these same practices still held life for others in the meeting.

For months, I have been fending off the realization that the practices that are precious to me aren't counted as treasures for others. I haven't wanted to face my anger, sadness, disenchantment, disillusionment. Yet I know that the only way to cope, to get through this period, is to surrender myself to the process, to the Holy Spirit, and acknowledge my powerlessness.

I feel the deep grief well up in me as I recognize these truths at a new level. It is like letting go of a friendship that has been dear to me for many years...

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Now, at Beppe's blog, as a result of an exchange of comments between the two of us, my thinking and understanding has again been exercised: I know that I can feel my feelings when it comes to the meeting and its circumstance, but I am concerned about how these raw feelings seep out in subtle, unhealthy ways, like projecting my grief and anger onto other Friends and ultimately wanting them to change—to be "better Quakers" according to my own definition—as a result.

I found myself wondering, as Beppe prompted, Is there anything wrong with wanting Quakers to be more faithful to our principles and practices? Did not John Woolman, George Fox, Margaret Fell, and others since them, each in their own way, lift up the human shortcomings of their fellow worshippers, striving to hold Friends accountable, to act out of greater integrity...?

So why am I so conflicted?

I am coming to realize—and having difficulty remembering—that it's a fine line between holding one another's feet to the fire (which is what I had hoped I was doing) and holding a person's feet to the fire long after the person has shouted, "Let go of me, I don't like doing this anymore!"

The former act is one of what Sandra Cronk calls "mutual accountability" (see below); the latter is one which borders on harrassment if not abuse. Once I had a handle on this distinction, I felt a clearness within me. Now I just have to remember to draw on this distinction in order to discern if I am being faithful or if I am letting my grief seep out.

I am also made tender by these words from Claire, who posted a comment to a guest piece by Jeffrey Hipp. Claire writes in part:

Sometimes when Friends call for more Christ-centeredness on the grounds that Friends are slipping away from true Quakerism, it makes me feel as if I am “less” of a Quaker, or not a true Friend. [Jeffrey's] post articulated clearly both sides of the story and was comforting for me to read.

We must wait and listen to the Spirit rather than taking it upon ourselves to “force” any such change either way.

Claire's words have tendered my heart where other similarly stated concerns have not been able to reach me. Her words remind me of the phrase "intention versus impact."

In some circles that address oppression in its different forms, this phrase encapsulates the reality that what is said or done with a good intention may not be welcomed or interpreted as such. In my case, if my intention is to encourage Friends to draw on certain practices and principles in order to be faithful to our Quakerism, but the impact of my words is the opposite—Friends interpret my words as meaning that I am saying they are not Quaker enough—then there is some clean-up to do. Attending to the relationship is needed.

But I cannot know the impact of my words until someone tells me what they are. I seldom hear about any hurtful impact until weeks or months have gone by. Then what? There is no way to recall the specific circumstance, and consequently no opportunity to search for the underlying intention of my words when so much time has passed...

There is more for me to write, but for now I feel the nudge to stop here and allow the Inward Teacher to continue to instruct me.

Blessings,
Liz

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Quotes from Sandra Cronk's "Gospel Order: A Quaker Understanding of Faithful Church Community" (Pendle Hill pamphlet series, #297; 1991):

The process of mutual accountability was not a way of checking to see whether Friends lived up to certain petty points of lifestyle, but a way to give each other the strength to be a people who listened to God and lived God's new order... (p. 16)

Friends saw mutual admonition as... helping each other hear and respond to God's call. The admonitory aspect of mutual accountability involved all sorts of situations, including helping people to recognize and exercise their gifts, to see where the broken and unfaithful places were in their lives, to overcome paralyzing fears, to discern leadings, and to know when they had outrun or lagged behind their Guide. Thus, admonition was not simply telling others when they were wrong, at least in the way we usually interpret that idea. It was admonishing a person to be courageous in adversity or to undertake a much needed ministry or service. It was encouraging one another to take a risk in trusting God's leading or letting go of a behavior that was blocking deeper commitment to God. In short, it was helping each other move toward greater faithfulness in all areas of living. (pp. 24-25)