July is a hard time to write...

Dear wonderful readers.

I thought I'd be long into my third or fourth post by now about the 2009 FGC Gathering.

Hah!

July has been wrought with travel plans. Followed by recovering from travels. Followed by preparing for more travels.

And in-between all that, there have been the minor things like paying bills, restocking the refrigerator, sorting through mail. Tending to Quaker committee work that has been my responsibility...

You get the idea.

Thanks for your patience. God willing, I'll return to my Gathering reflections later this month or--more likely--early August.

Sigh.

Blessings,
Liz

P.S. FGC's QuakerBooks now has Writing Cheerfully on the Web on its website.

The starfish... and babies in the river

Well now, this is strange: I could have sworn I had written this out in my journal, but it's nowhere to be found. Did I dream it...? Has it simply been so vividly alive in my head that I had only thought I had written it out...?

Well now, here it is.

. . . . . . . . . . . . .

The week before I left for Gathering in June, I found myself reflecting on two images that seemed related to each other yet were very different.

(NOTE: Embellishments to the original story and changes in gender and ages of the characters are my own.)

The starfish

There is a popular story about how we can make a difference in life, which basically goes like this:

One day, a little girl walking along the beach notices thousands of starfish just out of reach of the water. Off in the distance, she sees a person who is bending down, reaching for something, and tossing something into the waves. As she approaches, she realizes it's an old woman, tossing starfish one by one back into the ocean.

A bit skeptical about what good any of this will do, given how many starfish lay on the miles and miles of beach, the girl says to the old woman, "There are so many starfish out here, and the waves will just keep dumping more of them here all day, why waste your time, what difference will it make?"

To which the old woman bends down, picks up a starfish, and frisbees it over the water back into the waves.

"Well, I made a difference to that one."

Babies in the river

And then there's the second story, which I embellished quite a bit from a brief remark in Linda Stout's book (p. 106, with a reference to Rosie's Place in Boston).

There is a village of kind folk, living near a river. One day, as a group of children were playing by the river, they noticed something funny coming down to them from upstream.

There were babies in the river!

The children ran into the village, yelling to everyone they came across, "There are babies in the river! There are babies in the river!"

The village emptied out and everyone ran to the river to see for themselves. Those who got there first quickly started wading into the river and grabbed at the infants to pull them out, passing them by their tiny arms and legs to other villagers who had arrived seconds after them.

But the babies kept coming.

After an hour, two hours, three hours of pulling babies from the river, a few of the oldest villagers, too feeble to help with the rescue effort, fell back away from the riverside.

They didn't return to the village though.

They headed upstream instead, to see who was throwing babies into the river and what might be done about that.

I think these two images and stories have been with me because they speak to me about the many times I have taken action that amounts to tossing individual starfish into the ocean or pulling drowning babies from the river. The individual lives of those with whom I interact may in fact be changed, whether it's through a financial donation I've made for flood relief, a few volunteer hours in a women's organization, or starting a mentoring relationship with a depressed and isolated pre-teen.

But I mustn't think my work is done.

These days, I have been wondering what keeps me from investigating "upstream"? What keeps me away from coalitions that work to change policy? What keeps me away from organizations that work to change society and not just provide services that address the results of the current system?

(The other day at Meeting for Worship, I practically prayed to be changed by the Spirit intrinsically--but not by being whacked on the side of the head--just so I could get over my own ignorance and unconscious (or conscious!) privilege.)

These images and stories aren't the only things that speak to me and challenge me.

The social class workshop I took at Gathering is still impacting me, more than a week later. The conversations I'm having with my partner, difficult as they are, are stretching me to think beyond class oppression and instead to consider "internalized superiority"--a multigenerational trait of my family and of white, upper class/owning class society, that is hard to point to and harder to break.

The new discussion that has barely emerged at the monthly meeting around marriage equality--and whether to suspend serving as the state's "legal agent" for straight marriages under the care of the meeting--tests my patience as I listen to straight Friends openly talk about not wanting to give up their privilege.

At the same time, I recognize in myself that even giving up any non-unearned privilege I have would be among the hardest thing I would ever choose to do. (By this last point, I mean practical privileges to which I have access, like an iPhone, cable TV, TV in general, the car, multiple days' worth of clothing, access to food co-ops, etc.)

Living with these two stories, though, of the starfish and the babies in the river, makes me realize that there is always more to do. There is always more we can do, if we can convince ourselves and our faith community that it's worth the effort to work towards social change and not just provide social services.

Blessings,
Liz

Some initial reflections about FGC Gathering 2009

I'm intending to write separately about my experience in the Quakers & Social Class workshop that George Lakey led at Gathering. Before that, though, here are some less complex events and experiences I had while I was away from home.

A visit to Ploughshares Farm

One of the first people we saw on our 3-day car ride from Minnesota to FGC's Gathering in Virginia was Brent Bill and his wife Nancy--who he sometimes called Liz... very confusing to this Liz!

Brent was someone Jeanne had "met" via good ol' Facebook, though I was somewhat familiar with his blog, Holy Ordinary. I loved telling my parents that we were spending a night with "someone we met through the internet" ...and then waiting half a beat before explaining he was also a Quaker author and the writer of the preface to Writing Cheerfully on the Web.

Brent and Nancy's hospitality would be on the nature of the AAA four- or five-diamond rating. Y'know, when I hear "farm," I think of highly rustic, bugs crawling onto everything, no air conditioning, and a shared bathroom for whoever is there that night and the following morning.

But no: Ploughshares Farm is more like an immaculate Bed & Breakfast, with beautiful gardens, thanks to Nancy, and witty conversation, thanks to Brent. We also got a bit of a driving tour through nearby Plainfield, Indiana and saw where Western Yearly Meeting holds its annual sessions, as well as a former meetinghouse used by Conservative Friends.

We heard many stories about Quakers in central Indiana, which perhaps prompted me to ask Nancy and Brent how long they had been among Friends. I don't know that we ever heard Brent's answer because Nancy answered first:

"Oh, I'm a young Quaker. My family has been Quaker only for four generations."

What?!? I had to make sure she wasn't joking, which she wasn't. Brent went on to explain that Quakers in Indiana--and especially in central Indiana--had settled that area a long, long time ago, so four generations wasn't all that old as far as Indiana Quakers go.

We also heard about the struggles the two of them face regarding their monthly and yearly meeting, and how they began the Friends In Fellowship worship group just over two years ago. We had hoped to pass through Plougshares Farm again on the way back from Virginia in order to worship with these Friends on 5 Seventh Month, but Way was not open for that to happen.

If you ever have a chance to meet Brent or Nancy, or if you have an opportunity to stay with them at the Farm, do take advantage of the occasion!

FGC's Traveling Ministries Program

As I was preparing for the Gathering, I had a sense that I would not be spending my time doing the usual activities I've participated in so many times before. I felt little attraction to attending the worship that was convened daily by Friends for LGBTQ Concerns, even though it's usually quite settled and tender, despite having more than 70 Liberal Friends in the room. So I took things a day at a time.

On First Day afternoon, I attended a session that was offered by the Traveling Ministries Program of FGC (TMP). It was a time for worship and consideration of a few queries. Queries can sometimes be rather dull for me, but these queries seemed to indicate that the TMP is beginning to consider the bigger picture of Friends who travel in the ministry and their relationship to a vibrant Quakerism.

Here are the queries we considered:

What is the Quaker message for today's hurting world?

Can we begin to articulate a vision of our corporate experience and message? or is this not appropriate?

Do we have a sense of what God may be asking of us? or are we each given a different message and task?

We divided into small groups to consider these queries and then reported back to the larger group. From there, the convener summarized the main threads she had heard, which went something like this:

We are called to continue living into a radical Love and our radical faith. The origin of this radical love is deep and ineffable, and we yearn to grow into it.

We also need to nurture its roots and there is work to do. There is work to do in ourselves, in our meetings, in our Religious Society, and in the world.

A number of groups used the metaphor of a tree: being a tree that stands firm as a presence to others; paying attention to the roots and the fruits of our faith and how we are in the world.

We are called to listen well to others and to model to others the Truth we seek to live.

We are also called to share the whole of our stories--not just the pleasant parts--so others can share the fullness of their stories.

We sense that there is a Message, even though we don't know what that Message is. We sense it may have something to do with how we are all part of the same Body; we are all small streams that flow into the same Stream...

Mostly, I was pleased to be worshiping for a short time among Friends, many of whom I treasure.

The tragic death of Bonnie Tinker

Later in the week, on Thursday, word reached the Gathering community that an attender had been struck and killed while riding on her bike. That night, the announcement was made that the cyclist was Bonnie Tinker--a person that MANY at the Gathering knew personally. She had been a plenary speaker back in the late 1990s at Gathering (I remembered I had interpreted into sign language her plenary address); she was very involved in Friends for LGBTQ Concerns; and she was a well known... personality... in the Pacific Northwest and elsewhere in the country and around the world.

Bonnie was someone who advocated for oppressed and disenfranchised individuals, broke the rules in order to draw attention to the issue of the day, and worked tirelessly to change our society for the sake of equality and human dignity.

Though I didn't know Bonnie well, I attended a handful of Gatherings and smaller Midwinter events where she was also involved.

The night the announcement was made, all post-plenary events were cancelled and instead Friends were invited to a special Meeting for Worship, under the care of FLGBTQC. Most of us clearly were still stunned by the news and were in shock. But the convener of the called worship opened the time by explaining that in the 1980s, when so many of our loved ones were dying from the AIDS epidemic, FLGBTQC changed its form of worship and would do so again for that night:

Next to the convener was an empty chair. If someone wanted to express her or his grief--or other emotion, presumably--the worshiper was welcome to sit in the chair and speak from there. After sharing, the convener would then ask if the Friend was open to having a laying on of hands--a symbol that she or he was not alone and that she or he could stay connected with the community during such a tender time.

Some Friends spoke about when they first met Bonnie, or when they had last spoken with her. There were requests to hold Bonnie's family in the Light, some of whom had already been attending the Gathering and others of whom were traveling there because of the accident. One Friend reminded us to pray for the driver of the truck, too.

A few Friends did in fact move to the chair, but the corporal and cathartic release that some maybe were anticipating didn't emerge. It took time to digest the news and understand the implications that in fact Bonnie was gone.

The next day, Friday, during the daily afternoon worship--also under the care of FLGBTQC--Bonnie's sisters attended. Maybe Bonnie's partner Sara was also there, though no one made mention of her presence. It was at this worship when there were many more tears and sobs of grief.

And we sang.

Swing Low Sweet Chariot. Softly and Tenderly. Other hymns I didn't know.

And the news went out by phone, email, and Facebook. From local news broadcasts to articles in the Oregon newspaper and blog posts with additional details and personal reflections. I still come across news bits about the accident, though it's unsatisfying.

Nothing will bring Bonnie Tinker back to us. And there are a good many people who still need care, including the young adult Friend who apparently witnessed the accident, called 911, rushed to Bonnie's side, and held her hand as she died.

As I was finishing this blog post, I saw this open letter from the general secretary of FGC, Bruce Birchard. He writes about the events at the Gathering...

Looking ahead to 2010

Next year's Gathering is scheduled to be held in Bowling Green, Ohio--a new site for FGC, and there'll be a new paradigm for the week. Here is an excerpt of what was printed in the daily bulletin that was distributed toward the end of this year's Gathering:

Beginning in 2010, the FGC Gathering will run from Sunday to Saturday, effectively shortening the entire Gathering by one day. There are two major advantages to this:

- Lower fees for Gathering attenders (we are estimating by approximately 8%).
- More time on the first weekend to travel to the Gathering.

Having the Gathering begin on Sunday will alleviate the need for many Friends to take off work the preceding Friday in order to begin their travel to the Gathering site, and thereby reduce further the total effective cost of attending for those in this situation. We will continue to schedule the Gathering for the week including 4th of July, so that employed Friends need use only 4 vacation days, rather than 5. If reduced fees and a reduced need to use vacation to attend the Gathering result in increased attendance, it may be possible to reduce fees even further since our substantial fixed costs will be spread over more attenders...

FGC experimented with a shortened Gathering in 2006 when the Gathering was held in Tacoma, Washington. At that time, there were significant schedule conflicts between the activities of the Friends of Color Center and those of Friends for LGBTQ Concerns, so hopefully those conflicts will be avoided in upcoming years.

As for me, I'm currently planning to skip next year's Gathering, the first one I will have missed since I started attending in 1995. The Gathering has become a bit predictable for me and I feel my growth in the Spirit has stagnated considerably.

Also, since my partner and I continue to cut back on travels--for financial and earthcare reasons--we are planning to attend the White Privilege Conference next year, which will be held in western Wisconsin.

We also are toying with dipping our toes into the QuakerSpring meet-up that has emerged in the past few years, but we have more to consider about the where, when, how far, and how much sort of questions before committing to adding that particular event to our calendar.

Then again, God might call me elsewhere entirely.

In the meantime, I'll keep writing about my experience at Gathering. More posts to come.

Blessings,
Liz

Putting ourselves in the Way

A few weeks ago, I started reading the book Bridging the Class Divide, by Quaker author Linda Stout. In the first few pages I came across something (in the introduction?) that has stuck with me ever since:

As people who are concerned about social justice and equality, we often direct our efforts to impact the field of social services when what we need to do is focus our energy and attention on the concept of social change.

It's that distinction that has been working on me.

[CORRECTION: It isn't in the introduction, though this concept is in the part of the book that I had first started reading, the chapter called "Principles for a New Organizing Model": "Providing services does not result in social change." (p.106; emphasis mine)]

In the monthly meeting, we do fairly well to help feed and shelter people who are homeless--at least when it's "our turn" to do so as a meeting. We go to peace vigils and march along one of the bridges that span the Mississippi to protest the ongoing wars in Iraq and Afghanistan. We often gather a group of us to go to the state capital to participate in the annual Lobby Day on behalf of GLBTQ rights, and we turned out in force to rally against the Republican National Convention when it came to town in the fall of 2008.

It's been years, though, and little has changed, other than--most notably--the administration in Washington D.C. The wars are still going on; same-sex couples are still without equal federal protections under the law, and poor people, including more and more of the "working poor," are lining up at food shelves.

Recipients of social services no doubt appreciate the help, care, and support. Their individual lives are made better, if only for a short time before the oppression, financial destitution, or illness come knocking at their door once again.

But change in the way that social systems work, in the way that our attitudes and perceptions impact those systems: now, THAT would be real change.

The question is how to go about making those sorts of system-wide, integrated, and internalized changes.

It's been happening in Iran, of course, since their elections in June earlier this year. Something new has been struggling to break through, and it's changing the political, social, judicial, religious, international, and technological fabric that had existed there.

And it happened because Iranians began putting themselves in the way.

They put themselves in front of the military. They put themselves in front of television, cell phones, and Twitter. They put themselves in front of their oppressors and the world began to pay attention.

The world began to pay attention, not just the individuals who shout from rooftops each night or the relatives and friends of people who are in Tehran.

And so it was that during the last few minutes of Meeting for Worship, two days before I was to head to FGC's Gathering, that the pieces came together for me: Linda Stout's remark; the revolution in Iran; and the meeting's apparent laissez-faire approach to opportunities that await us:

We must be willing to put ourselves in the way if we want to affect change.

But as I sat a while longer, I saw this:

We must be willing to put ourselves in the Way if we want to affect change.

How often do we, as a body, commit ourselves to put ourselves in the Way--in what others have called the Stream or the Unseen Hands--put ourselves in the Way to the extent that we say, This needs to change and we will abide by it no more--this attitude, this system, this rhetoric, this law.

I remember watching the film Iron Jawed Angels and being impressed, not by the Quaker women portrayed in the film but how they put themselves in the Way of Truth, and they put themselves in the Way of Justice.

So many other examples exist in our history as Americans: Martin Luther King, Jr. Harvey Milk. Harriet Tubman.

During worship that morning, I began to wonder just where it is that we are to stand in order to find ourselves in the Way.

And yet...

In the very last few minutes of my afternoon worship, I began to understand that first, for me, I must pray to be changed inwardly and intrinsically. I must be changed at the core so that I might open myself "to be willing to be willing" to stand in the Way.

Lord, make us an instrument of Thy peace.

Where there is hatred,
where there is injury,
where there is doubt,
where there is despair,
where there is darkness,
and where there is sadness--

Give us the courage and the faith to be willing to put ourselves in the Way.

Blessings,
Liz

P.S. There'll be more to read about "social change" and "social services" both here and at my partner's blog, Quakers & Social Class. Both of us were in George Lakey's workshop at Gathering about, well... Quakers and social class. And we both have something to say about our experience there.

UPDATE: Jeanne has published a post on her thoughts about the "rules" that play into this sort of social service vs. social change paradigm, just moments after I posted this!