Breaking bread at a mixed wedding

Over on Aj Schwanz's blog, she's written a post about Quakers, symbols, and communion--with a dash of consumerism thrown in, too.

I left a comment there but wanted to expand it a bit further.

Aj's post reminds me of a "mixed wedding" I went to a few years ago, where one partner of the couple was very active as a Quaker and the other was very active in the United Church of Christ (UCC).

I didn't mind the initial rituals that were leading up to the Quaker part of the wedding--the Meeting for Worship--given the one partner's religious practice... but where the rubber really met the road for me was when the person presiding over the programmed part of the afternoon--a UCC minister?--invited all of the attenders to "break bread" and participate in a form of expanded or secularized communion.

Before offering the communion, there was a long and careful explanation of what the couple's intention was in offering this breaking of bread, as well as a carefully worded statement that it would be okay if Quakers didn't didn't participate.

I watched Quaker after Quaker rise to receive the bread and drink, along with family members and other friends of the couple. And I sank further and further into my chair, wishing that my own sweetie could have been sitting next to me to confer with, rather than being off in the reception hall, setting things up as part of the arrangements committee...

Granted, I knew that many of these Friends who were approaching the front had had a Christian upbringing--Lutheran, Methodist, etc. And I believed that many of these Friends accepted the intention of the ritual, feeling in their hearts they could lay their concerns aside ("Quakers don't do this, but the couple is inviting us to join them in this sacred act, so I shall honor their request").

But in the end, I just couldn't join in. A lot of it was because I had had a Jewish upbringing, not a Christian one. But I also flashed on Woolman's experience with Native Americans and still found no comfort or instruction there for myself in my current situation.

In the last few moments when the ceremony was wrapping up, I understood that it didn't matter to God what I did; that the couple would know my love for them, regardless.

And I knew that God already accepted me, whether I broke bread or not: I was already Loved.

So, since I couldn't resolve the inner conflict I was experiencing at the time, and since Quakers avoid taking action when they are not clear, I stayed in my seat and fell into worship for a few moments. It was one of the most difficult things I've had to do among Friends.

Those who know me know that I often worry that my deep regard for Quaker tradition and practice--including the stripping away of empty forms in order to keep a clear path between ourselves and God--sets me apart from many others. But recently I shared with a committee on which I serve that as a Quaker, I'm not called to be faithful to other Friends in the meeting:

I am called to be faithful to how God leads me, and I seek support from Friends in the community to help me in my faithfulness and obedience.

Often, rituals or not, it's the only way I know how to be me, deeply.

Blessings,
Liz