What is dear to me about Quakerism

What follows below is the major part of a letter I sent to a couple of Friends shortly after we saw one another at a local Quaker event.

I wrote them because they wanted to hear what I shared with a different small group. It is based on some journaling we were asked to do during the event, following which we were asked to "prepare a message" inspired by our writing. --Liz
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What is dear to me about Quakerism

When we gather for worship, the living Silence embraces us and we are joined to one another: we are yoked together with the Spirit.

It is such a precious time.

And when, out of the silence, someone feels moved by the Spirit... when the Living Spirit speaks through one of us while we worship, we are being offered such a gift.

I wait to hear what my fellow worshiper has to offer. Perhaps it is a message of how God has reached that person and has helped her or him be transformed, broken open, brought closer to the Spirit.

And it is in the silence that the community who hears such vocal ministry will come to bear witness to that person's transformation and healing. We will help hold the Friend prayerfully as she, or he, sinks down into the Seed and begins to share the story...

So of course I become expectant in the waiting: How is God speaking to me, to us, through this person? What is God calling me, or us, to do?

When I hear of someone's experience of how God has been speaking to him or her, of being broken open, of wrestling to yield to God's guidance, of being transformed; when I hear how God has spoken so deeply to that person that her or his life is changed, then I myself am somehow also changed, at a deep and wordless level.

It is as if I am being made ready for God to open me, too.

Maybe not immediately, maybe not the next day, but at some point.

When that time comes, I know that I will be called upon to speak out of the living Silence, to share how it is that God has worked on my soul, has broken me open, and has helped me be transformed.

And when that time comes, not only do I know that the gathered body will bear witness to my words during worship, but I also know that I will be held tenderly by God.

Blessings,
Liz

Going from meeting as we have come to it

In recent days, one of my Quaker "buttons" has gotten pushed a few times, so I thought I'd pay attention to it and write about it.

It's the one about to what extent we listen deeply to another Friend's spoken message, whether given during worship, during a committee meeting, or over a potluck meal. How often do we ask ourselves if a particular minister is embodying the voice of God that says:

"You, in the corner: This message is for you."

A few weeks ago, during the part of our worship where "messages that didn't rise to the level of vocal ministry" are welcome, I found myself rising to speak to the metaphor of babies in the river and how that relates to social change. I didn't know that I would be moved to tears as I was telling the story. Clearly, though, Something had been working on me during worship.

When worship ended, a number of people approached me to "thank" me for what I had shared. Most of them took time to affirm me for the good work I was already doing and told me not be hard on myself for not doing more.

As I recall, only one Friend mentioned that the message I offered that day had given her something to think about. And she is already in her 80s, has worked in the Congo, and has been a long-time war-tax resister.

I had already begun wrestling with the question if I'm called to "go upriver" or if I'm called to "pull out the babies" (see the above link), but I left that Meeting for Worship wondering how many worshipers would consider what Light may be in that story for them to wrestle with. I felt disconnected from all but that one person who had approached me after worship. Why?

And then I realized that I worry about and am anguished by the possibility that many Friends who worship in the unprogrammed tradition--many, not all--seem to keep themselves an arm's length away from considering the question, "What Light or Truth might be in that Friend's message for me?"

These days, it's unlikely that we're going to have the experience that Anne Wilson and Samuel Bownas had, when she arose during worship and spoke plainly.

Here's what Samuel writes:

...fixing her eye upon me, she with a great zeal pointed her finger at me, uttering these words with much power: "A traditional Quaker, thou comest to meeting as thou went from it, and goes from it as thou came to it but art no better for thy coming; what wilt thou do in the end?"

In Samuel's case, he was able to listen to the message--if not right away, then at some point later--and not blame the messenger-minister for literally singling him out (if not right away, then at some point later!). He was able to allow the Light to work on him inwardly and over time, and ultimately he grew into his own measure of Light.

But as Liz Gates asks in remarks she made in 2005:

How many of us sit on the bench next to Samuel, comfortable and quiet?

Indeed: How many of us would think that the message Anne gave was only for Samuel, since she pointed directly to him?

Sometimes I fear that we don't listen deeply to a message from a minister because we really don't want to be changed, challenged, or exercised spiritually.

Or if we do open ourselves to the possibility of growth and change, so often it's got to be on our own terms--during summer vacation, or after the baby comes, or after I get done with painting the house.

Have we lost the discipline of coming to waiting worship, expecting we could be changed?

Blessings,
Liz

What if Quaker worship came with instructions?

This past First Day, the monthly meeting held an adult education session that was based on earlier work undertaken by a committee. It was a time for us to share with one another ways in which we prepare ourselves for worship.

To help frame the session, a Friend read a few queries that had been printed in the meeting's newsletter:

How do I prepare for Meeting for Worship?

How can I come to MfW better able to worship?

What is the difference between coming to worship on time and coming prepared?

What makes MfW a shared experience rather than a collection of individual meditations?

How can we shorten the time of “settling in” at the start of a Meeting for Worship?

Have you ever considered coming early to MfW and beginning to worship ten minutes before the official start in order to help anchor the silence?

At some point, the conversation shifted when a relatively new attender said, "I'm still not sure what I'm supposed to be doing during worship. Is there something I'm supposed to be doing in order to help me feel that connection that some of you talk about?"

Soon after that remark, another Friend said, perhaps tongue-in-cheek, "Well, I grew up Quaker, and no one ever told me what to do. Wouldn't it be amazing if worship came with instructions?"

The danger of having technical instructions

I have to say, at that point, my own fear and worry came up: I worry that having "instructions" amounts to a depending on a formula that then can become rote; that the instructions might force the experience to look, feel, and be a certain way.

From there, I worry that those same instructions would ultimately disconnect us from the thing we are wanting to accomplish: a shared experience of being covered by the Living Presence.

For me, the life, depth, and vibrancy of Quaker worship is about the experience of discovering waiting worship for ourselves, the experience of letting the Spirit work in us directly simply by being present to it.

The hope of having spiritual instruction

Still, at the thought of "instructions," my own mind jumped to George Fox's Epistle X, though the counsel there refers more specifically what to do when one finds oneself in "trouble." It doesn't necessarily speak to how to engage in corporate worship.

I was thankful, then, for the Friend who briefly mentioned Bill Taber's Four Doors to Meeting for Worship, a pamphlet I read long ago and sadly had pushed aside to make room for other Quaker books and pamphlets.

It was about time I pull that out again, and I'm glad I did.

For one thing, on pages 14-16, Bill Taber enumerates a handful of specific ways that "some people, many people, other people" engage in traditional Quaker worship.

He doesn't say that this is a perfect recipe for how to do worship. In fact, he cautions against interpreting it as such:

All of these suggestions make it sound as if we are doing something, as if it all depends on us. While a few of these techniques may be helpful to some people, especially in their early years of attending Quaker meetings, most people eventually come to realize that as we learn to relax our anxiety to do the right thing, and as we learn what it feels like just to be present, then technique becomes far less important than our desire to be fully present. For some experienced Friends... they simply sit down, allow body and mind to be both relaxed and alert, close or relax their eyes; and they are soon there because they have been there so many times already, and because their desire to be there again is so great.
--p. 16

My revisiting this pamphlet sparks a memory: Is Bill Taber the Friend who spoke and/or wrote about how Quakerism is caught and not taught?

It seems that such a concept comes to bear on the thought of "instruction."

A matter of spiritual translation

Revisiting portions of this pamphlet and working on this post reminded me of a very different conversation I had had with another Friend.

She and I were talking recently about how, when I was studying Spanish--probably in high school--the teacher at some point encouraged the class of advanced Spanish students to stop translating in our heads from Spanish to English (and vice versa). Instead, we were to listen to the Spanish entirely.

Not translate.

Just be with it.

In Spanish.

Some part of me knew what the teacher meant by that. I challenged myself to stop pulling apart the Spanish sentences I was hearing, stop thinking word-by-word of what each corresponding word was in English, and stop re-assembling the English word-by-word back into Spanish.

When I was able to let myself accept the Spanish as it came to me, without "figuring it out," I was able to leave behind the anxiety of vocabulary memorization and patterned verb conjugation. I was able to relax into the experience of understanding Spanish in its complete, connected wholeness.

I think it was a similar shift in my participation in worship during my early years among Friends:

At some point, as new Quakers engaging in corporate waiting worship, we come to a point where we stop trying to connect, we stop trying to worship, and we just are.

We relax into the experience of worship in its complete, connected wholeness.

We fall into worship, just like that.

To paraphrase Bill Taber, we can take ourselves "there" because we have been "there" so many times before: "There" with the body in worship. "There" with the Living Presence. "There" in holy communion, with the Spirit, in the Living Stream.

Blessings,
Liz

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RESOURCES that offer "instructions" on how to "do" Quakerism

Bill Taber's Four Doors to Meeting for Worship

Lloyd Lee Wilson's Essays on the Quaker Vision of Gospel Order

Thomas Kelly's A Testament of Devotion

Rex Ambler's A Light to Live By

Michael Birkel's Silence and Witness

Howard Brinton's Guide to Quaker Practice

Tom Gates' Members One of Another

Tom Gates' Opening the Scriptures

Quaker Information Center's resources on worship

Hearts and minds prepared

I recently sat in on a committee meeting that was responding to an overall (and age-old) concern about how to encourage Friends to arrive on time on First Day mornings.

The concern was reframed for the small group of us, and we were asked instead to consider the question:

How do we change the culture of the meeting that has (unintentionally) made it okay to be loud, talkative, and rushed outside the meetingroom until the very last moment before the doors to the meetingroom are closed?

Well, that wasn't the exact wording of the question, but it gets to the heart of the matter.

Somehow over time, the entry area near the meetingroom, including the hallway and library, has morphed from being a transition space for people to slow themselves down to being the "red zone" where folks better hurry themselves up, all in the name of preparing themselves to enter worship.

The committee considered the popular advice about coming to meeting with "our hearts and minds prepared":

In worship we enter with reverence into communion with God and respond to the promptings of the Holy Spirit. Come to meeting for worship with heart and mind prepared...
--Britain Yearly Meeting 1.02.9

How can Friends be reminded of that advice? What needs to happen so that inward preparation is not just tended to when folks enter the meetinghouse but when they get out of their cars and cross the parking lot, when they leave their house to head to meeting, or when they rise in the morning on First Day?

Is it enough to leave the radio off when driving to meeting? to turn off the television the night before? to ignore the newspaper that's tossed on the stoop at dawn on First Day?

Is it only about removing distractions from the first part of First Day? Can we also be intentional about where we do place our focus as well?

Can we read a snippet of a Quaker pamphlet that morning, or read a verse or two from Scripture, or spend a few moments considering what we are grateful for?

Can we help our children get accustomed to the practice of stopping in their tracks, taking a breath, and being still for even half a beat before grabbing the door's handle and going into the building?

Can we shift our focus away from worrying about getting to meeting "on time" and instead turn our intention to one of arriving at meeting "on purpose"?

It's not about when we arrive, it's about how we arrive.

Not only that, but at what point do we move from focusing on helping ourselves prepare for worship as individuals and turn to recognizing and affirming that we are, in fact, part of a corporate body that is also preparing for worship?

Blessings,
Liz

RELATED POST: What if Quaker worship came with instructions?

Distracted from God

For the first time in about five or six weeks, I attended the midweek evening worship at the monthly meeting. It felt like the first time in about that long since I actually had some time to myself and wasn't doing committee work or rushing to get out of town on a trip or returning someone's phone call.

During worship, I found myself reflecting on just where the month of September went:

I hadn't done much blogging--reading or writing.

I hadn't done much gardening.

I hadn't done much socializing.

I hadn't been at worship regularly, either at monthly meeting or at the worship group.

So what had I been doing? ...A camping trip in late August. ...Helping prepare and host a large barbecue for 40 people. ...A trip to Massachusetts in early September.

But why was I feeling so drained? Some of those things were fun and even restful.

The answer came easily unfortunately: I've been drained because the events of the day have taken my focus off of God. I have instead been sucked in by news stories about the U.S. economic downturn and the craziness of this year's presidential election. I had lost my Center bit by bit.

Many Quakers--but not all!--caution one another about distractions, diversions, and temptations, but historically that's often meant gambling and drinking. More recently, it's included tobacco and even caffeine among some Friends.

Iowa Yearly Meeting Conservative raises this sort of caution in its Advice and Query on personal responsibility. North Carolina Yearly Meeting Conservative does so too, in its query on our manner of living.

Iowa:

ADVICE: (excerpt) ...Joining secret organizations, gambling and using addictive and/or consciousness‑altering substances were recognized as practices which diverted resources from useful purposes, distracted attention from the Inner Light, and placed obstacles in the way of Friends seeking to lead lives of integrity. We recognize the spirit of these testimonies and endeavor to apply the same principles in our lives today. ...We need to free ourselves from distractions that interfere with our search for inner peace, and accept with thanksgiving all that promotes fullness and aids in service to the divine Center.

QUERY: (excerpt) How do we center our lives in the awareness of God the' Spirit, so that all things may take their rightful places? How do we structure our individual lives in order to keep them uncluttered with things and activities? How does Meeting help us examine our personal lives for simplicity?..."

North Carolina:

"QUERY: (excerpt) Do we choose those activities which will strengthen our physical, mental, and spiritual life; and do we avoid those harmful to ourselves and others? Are we mindful of Friends testimonies against alcoholic beverages, tobacco, and other harmful drugs; and do we refrain from using them or dealing in them, realizing that abstinence is the clearest witness against overindulgence? Do we seek to avoid all kinds of gambling and places of diversion that tend to be demoralizing?..."

So in worship tonight, I recalled my time at NCYMC this past summer, when their query was read and we heard responses and then spoke out of the silence. Some of us spoke about how investing in the stock market may be a form of gambling. Others spoke about the use of computers, television, and video games as being modern forms of addiction or diversion.

And that's what I discovered about myself and these past few weeks: Television and the media became distractions for me. God was no longer at my Center, but the drama of politics and money were.

So tonight in worship, I lay before God my confession of my actions and I began to feel the slightest bit lighter. In that seed of being transformed, I began to consider what my patterns are like when I am focused on God and when God is at the core of my life.

Ultimately, three words were given to me:

Serve.

Cherish.

Retire.

When I feel my life is more attuned with Gospel Order, I am doing more to serve the Spirit, or others or both, than I am to serve myself.

When I feel my life is more aligned with God's desire, I find it is easier for me to cherish those around me, even during difficulty.

When I have been faithful in service and loving towards others, I find I am more easily refreshed when I also give myself time to retire.

And retirement, in the Quaker sense of the word, doesn't mean sitting in front of the television for three or four hours straight, watching CNN.

It's time for me to get back to God. It's time for me to tune in again.

Blessings,
Liz

Learning from our children

This past First Day at worship group, during the first few minutes of worship when the children are with us, I got such a kick out of watching the six kids.

For one thing, it's rare that all of them are there at the same time. For another, there are more opportunities for the kids to interact with one another, across the room, with gestures and facial expressions.

And with loud whispers.

For example, two of the three oldest kids were sitting next to each other, each of them in various stages of having lost a tooth or two while also having a few other teeth wiggly and loose.

As quietly as possible, the two of them compared notes on how many teeth they had each lost and how many were on their way out.

The girl holds up four fingers, and using Really Big Mouth Movements, opens her mouth wide at the same time:

F o u r .

F O U R , she repeats, bigger.

The boy feels the inside of his own mouth, double-checking before answering back, just as big:

T W O .

It was clear they were excited for each other. It wasn't a competition, just a simple telling of where they found themselves.

And it got me to wondering at what point in our growing-up years do we stop being so eager to show someone what's special about ourselves as beloved children of God and start to hide our Light and our spiritual gifts under a bushel?

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Off I go, to several adventures out east. If Way is open, I'll see if I can get a blog post about some of my experiences in-between major events.

Blessings,
Liz

Traveling, and a crush on God

Last night I attended the monthly meeting's midweek worship. Attendance was typical: about six or eight of us, including the regular high school attender; the four regular "white hairs," and one of the two middle-age men.

I found myself smiling a lot during worship. I suspect it has a lot to do with the trip I have coming up. Plans include a week at the summer Gathering of FGC, a few days sojourning at Pendle Hill, and then traveling with a few other Quaker friends and acquaintances to North Carolina. Some of us will attend the Friends United Meeting Triennial and others, including myself, will attend the annual sessions of North Carolina Yearly Meeting (Conservative).

As I was allowing myself to be flooded with the Light, I reflected on the initial troubled course I had taken in setting up travel plans.

I had committed myself to register for the sessions in Greensboro, NC before I figured out just what I'd do with the few days between the end of Gathering and the start of the yearly meeting's activities. Options included going to my parents' place in New Jersey (but who would I talk to about the Gathering?!?) or heading directly to North Carolina and staying at a hotel (again: who would I talk to...?).

I finally hit on the idea of staying in the Philadelphia area, which cracked open the possibility of staying at Pendle Hill. A few emails and phone calls later, I had a ride with fFriends from Gathering to Pendle Hill, as well as an invitation to stay there as an invited guest on behalf of one of the staff people--meaning that my room-and-board fees as a sojourner will be significantly reduced.

I also discovered that three or four of us would be traveling from the Philadelphia area on the same train to North Carolina.

That was when I felt I had Listened well in order to understand where and how the Way was opening.

And that was when, during Meeting for Worship, I felt such love and joy at knowing God was present, that I felt like I had a crush on God, and--even better!--that God, too, had a crush on me.

Not like a teenage crush, that can burn brightly for a few days or weeks or even months, but ultimately goes out as quickly as it started. But like a long-into-marriage crush, where you fall in love all over again with your partner, just because you see a new facet of the person, a new element of the relationship, and your eyes are all a-twinkle and your heart beats a little faster, knowing that you are with the one you love who loves you back.

It makes me wonder what else might be possible; how else will God show up in my life, seen or unseen, felt or unfelt...?

Blessings,
Liz

Two experiences of Meeting for Worship

As part of the ongoing discernment process of the worship group about where we might affiliate, we have begun a study of comparative readings between Liberal Friends and Conservative Friends. (Both of these branches worship in the unprogrammed manner of Friends.)

We're currently focused on parallel parts of Iowa Conservative's 1974 Book of Discipline and Northern Yearly Meeting's approved chapters of its first-ever Faith & Practice. This past week, we looked briefly at the sections on Meeting for Worship.

Though a number of us felt the two sections were "compatible," I myself noticed what for me are small-but-significant differences. Iowa's section mentions the Bible and refers to the Holy Spirit. There is also a brief explanation about the lack of outward sacraments:

The absence of outward rites and sacraments in Friends' worship is a result of our emphasis on the reality of the inward experience. Direct communion with God and the baptism of the Holy Spirit make the observance of rites unnecessary and even a hindrance to spiritual experience for some.

NYM's chapter, on the other hand, makes no mention of Scripture or the lack of ritual, possibly allowing for (or explaining?) the greater theological diversity among NYM Friends.

To NYM's credit, though, I appreciate the part within NYM's chapter on worship about vocal ministry:

Our Meetings for Worship go beyond private reverie. It is our experience that wherever two or more of us are gathered in expectant listening, the Spirit is in our midst. The quest for Truth among us is shared in community.

When I have experienced a gathered or covered meeting, it has felt to me like the worshipers have in fact "gone beyond private reverie" and have come into a sweetness and depth that is made all the more rich by the sense of having been yoked together in corporate worship and with the grace of the Presence...

But of course, reading about Meeting for Worship and experiencing it are two very different things, and no branch of Friends is immune from ever having a Meeting for Worship that feels disjointed.

What's timely about reading and reflecting on these passages about meeting for worship is that this past weekend, on two separate occasions, I experienced both a gathered meeting and a disjointed meeting.

On Saturday, a few of us went to the home of an aging Friend who can no longer get to the meetinghouse for worship. I would have expected us to fall into worship easily and deeply, uniting around our common fFriend, around a quiet celebration of being together. Instead, three of us fell asleep (or nearly so) and I had a hard time feeling connected or joined with the others in the Spirit. Maybe it was just too nice of a day to be inside; maybe it was just that I, and possibly others, couldn't transcend our "private reverie"...

The very next morning, though, I attended the earlier meeting for worship at the monthly meeting. Usually the group of worshipers numbers around thirty, with many more Friends going to the later worship, but this particular First Day morning, we numbered nearly fifty!

Over the last few weeks, many of us in the early MfW have been witnessing the decline of a beloved fFriend who, with his wife, has been attending meeting for many, many years but has consciously never pursued membership. This particular First Day, the fFriend was not there: we had received word that he had passed early on Saturday morning.

The thirty or so regular attenders, along with the additional twenty other worshipers, appeared to settle quickly and deeply into the silence. It was as if we were journeying together, continuing to accompany such a dear fFriend and his dear family, all the while being held and comforted by the Living Presence among us.

Away from the meeting, a Friend had recently remarked that as a worship community, we were united in our witnessing of the passing of a life. We were joined in our grief and we were truly holding one another up...

In that deep place, there had been more than a sense of individuals worshiping together, but a true sense of corporate worship, a movement that transcended each of our potential "private reveries" and instead united us, wordlessly, one unto another and all of us unto the Comforter.

When the Holy Spirit is felt by so many, what more can we do than take a few deep breaths and lean into the grace to accept every moment for what it is...

Blessings,
Liz

Do your best.

In Meeting for Worship this First Day morning, I found myself resting on two phrases:

Yes, I hear you.

and

Did you do your best?

The first phrase, as I understand how I received it today, is almost like the answer to the popular joke, "God always answers your prayers. Sometimes the answer is No."

In this case, though, my own sense is that Yes, I hear you is the reply we are given when we wonder if God is really listening:

"God, do you know how much anguish this situation is causing me right now?"

"God, can't you do anything about what is going on in the world/in our neighborhood/with my family?"

Yes, I hear you.

It's not meant to be a cold, thoughtless retort with a hidden subtext of "Get outta my way, you speck of dust." It's truly meant to be a compassionate response:

Yes, I hear you... and I struggle with you in your pain; I weep with you in your struggle...

The second phrase, Did you do your best? is a question I once heard a Friend lift up.

The Friend offered it as a way to nurture the children among us--and to nurture one another--whether they (we) are preparing for a test in school or are auditioning for a play. There is much more significance to the question Did you do your best? than there is to the better known, somewhat empty gesture of uttering, "Well, good luck."

For one thing, the question Did you do your best? invites us to look inward and ask ourselves if in fact we did our best. The person asking the question doesn't really need to know the answer, but the person who hears the question will quickly recognize the truthful reply.

Sometimes I wonder if God simply wants us to ask ourselves, Did I do my best? Was I faithful...? If we know we didn't do our best, if we know we weren't in fact faithful, we will have the consequence of living with that knowledge... and the opportunity to do something about it when we have a chance.

Blessings,
Liz

Reluctant ministry: Seeds of God

Today at Meeting for Worship at the monthly meeting, I found myself settling into this reflection:

I frequently come to worship hoping the meeting will serve my needs. What I need to do is come to meeting helping my meeting to serve God.

I sat with this awareness--and the sadness underlying it, which I won't go into here--for quite a while.

And then I realized I was being given something more, and I was humbled. I did not wish to give ministry today, but isn't that often how God works: those who are the most reluctant to serve are called upon...?

. . . . . . . . . .

In the spring I decided to prepare a small garden bed for some bergamot (monarda) I was wanting to plant. I noticed that there weren't any earthworms in that particular area of the yard, but I didn't make much of it: most of our backyard has very rich, fertile soil with lots of earthworms, and even though I think of myself as an amateur gardener, I was confident that I could grow bergamot without much trouble. I'm told that it's a very easy-to-grow, low-maintenance perennial.

So I made sure to buy a few plants during the annual Friends School plant sale this year--always a danger to go there, despite the list you've created ahead of time!--and I put them in the bed I had prepared.

Well, during the summer, nothing happened. The bergamot didn't grow, didn't put out any flowers. In fact, the leaves were starting to turn yellow, so I headed to my local garden store and asked for advice. Like me, she was surprised that the bergamot hadn't taken off. "It can grow almost anywhere!" she said, and I went home with a take-home soil test kit.

The test... well, let's just say that the soil failed in every category: No nitrogen, no phosphorus, no potash. The soil was dead, and I went back to the garden store. I was told to use some liquid plant food to get them through the summer but be prepared to dig the plants up in the fall and amend the living daylights out of the soil before replanting them.

That's what I did yesterday: I dug the bergamot up, added compost, green sand, and kelp (who knew?!), and then replanted them.

All this has made me consider the parable of the sower and my own condition:

Am I prepared to receive the Seeds of God that are tossed my way?

Am I hard and rocky? Am I too dry?

What can I do to prepare myself better to receive God?

How can any of us know what will help?

Blessings,
Liz

Stripping away

Yesterday I had the opportunity to attend "the big meeting"--the second of two Meetings for Worship on First Day, which during the school year accommodates up to 100 children and youth, in addition to their families and other regular worshipers.

I settled easily, since the meeting was small because of the U.S. holiday weekend.

A few minutes later, though, the gathering of the meeting was changed by the addition of the laughter and squeals of a few children and adults playing outside on the field next to the meetinghouse.

Then a lawn mower started up nearby, annoying at first but which later I realized provided a constant hum that masked the other outdoor distractions.

I managed to resettle and rested a bit in the arms of the Everlasting Presence.

A while later, the lawn mower stopped, and I felt a loosening within me that I hadn't been aware of. I guess the noise of the mower had unknowingly distressed me, at least at some level.

And as the children's peals of laughter also quieted, the ensuing silence became that much more noticeable and for me, that much more grounding.

It was a clear reminder to me of the fundamental nature of Quaker worship: to strip away the "noise" of our interior and exterior life, the empty forms of religion and hollow doctrine, so that what remains is a clear pathway between ourselves and God.

Blessings,
Liz

Treasuring one another through difficulty

Recently in worship at the monthly meeting, I spent much time turning over in my mind a comment that a Friend had emailed me.

The situation that led to the comment involved a number of things, including an interaction with that same Friend from a few years prior, a subsequent mutual look at our "emotional leftovers" from then, and more recently, a request I made to the Friend in which I sought clarification about possible committee service.

For me, my request was completely detached from the initial interaction and "emotional leftovers" conversation, but for the other Friend, they remained intertwined, and the Friend expressed concerns to me about how I engage in corporate process.

This new twist has made me wonder whose responsibility it is to evaluate and/or affirm any sort of transformation or "conversion of manners" that I myself may have experienced.

In my own heart, I know that such evaluation is between me and my Guide. But as a human being who sometimes loses her spiritual grounding, it often happens that I worry about what some Friends may think of me if I don't "see things their way."

So in my worship yesterday, I found myself settling into a few things:

A Query:

Do we treasure one another, even during difficulties between us? Do we reflect on a person's gifts and history of being faithful before we confront that person? Are we prepared to affirm a person's measure of Light and give that person space to grow into greater Light?

A Reminder:

Stay close to the root . . . Friends help Friends mind the Light . . . Stand still in the Light, submit to it, let it search you . . .

A Self-Check:

Have I allowed myself to be thoroughly searched by the Light for any wrongdoing I may have done regarding this particular situation? . . . What or who do I have in the Center right now? . . . To what or to whom am I giving over my power, my sense of self-worth? . . .What or who seems to be impacting my self-esteem and capacity for self-love?

Contemplation and Imagining:

I see God standing in front of me, looking into my eyes, saying nothing, and sending me only Love.

I melt. My heart is made tender, and I wonder how I will face Friends who may ask me to engage with them about concerns I thought had been put to rest. How might I answer to and call out that of God within others, whether or not they are capable of answering to and calling out that of God within me?

God, thank you for helping me remember who my Shepherd is, my Guide, and my Inward Teacher.

Blessings,
Liz

The meetinghouse with two doors

During the week of FGC's Gathering in River Falls, it was rare for me to be able to attend any afternoon event, especially early in the week when there were a number of workshop-related campfires to put out. I say "campfires" because they were very manageable and contained, but should not have been left burning for too long.

On Monday of the Gathering, I attended a brief presentation by Michael Wajda ("WHY-dah") and Deborah Fisch, both of whom I consider dear personal friends. Michael is the author of the Pendle Hill pamphlet, Expectant Waiting: Finding God's Thread of Guidance; and Deborah's talk, given for the 2006 Weed Lecture, was recorded, transcribed, and printed as the pamphlet, Being Faithful as Friends: Individually and Corporately.

Both Deborah and Michael are very good storytellers. That is, they have many experiences and personal stories that they lift up to illustrate their lives and struggles as Friends. And they tell a good story well. Plus, their delight in God and their joy in sharing their delight was in turn a delight for me to witness.

After the hour, though, and now more than a week later, there has been one image and one question that still lingers with me from that afternoon.

Michael had placed a large piece of paper behind him, and on it was a very simple but large drawing of a house--the kind of house a child might draw: a roof line, the outer walls, a few squares for windows, a rectangle for a door.

But in Michael's drawing--a typical meetinghouse, he explained--there are two doors, with a sign over each. Over the first door is a sign that says "Meeting for Worship." Over the second door is a sign that says "Meeting for Good Ideas."

The question Michael asked is,

Which meetinghouse door do we usually walk through in our meetings?

Blessings,
Liz

Spiritual intimacy

As I was walking out of the meetingroom this past First Day, I approached a Friend whom I have not seen at worship for several years. It was a Friend I had met only a few times before she had stopped attending, so I didn't expect to get involved in any sort of deep conversation.

It may have been a New Year's resolution on her and her partner's part to return to worship more regularly, and she expressed that it felt good to be among Friends again. She asked if I came regularly to that particular meeting for worship, and I answered yes, a couple of times a month, in addition to attending the worship group that's been around for a few years.

The Friend asked me how that was going and how large a group it was. When I told her we were rather small--but still growing--she joked that perhaps it was "worship for introverts." I laughed too, but then I added:

Actually, we've had someone come once who said the worship group wasn't for her because it was so intimate, and she felt she couldn't be anonymous there. I think it's not so much about being introverts as much as it is that, as a worship group, we are very much about seeing one another and about being seen, by God.

Spiritual intimacy can be the result of worship experiences that are grounded in corporate seeking as well as in sharing what our understanding is of how we are being called to serve and what we are wrestling with, both as individuals and as faith communities.

But spiritual intimacy must not be taken for granted. Our meetings and worship groups must be intentional about creating and safeguarding opportunities where we can ask one another how our relationship with the Divine is going; what we are wrestling with; where and how we are finding spiritual nurture. When those opportunities are reduced or dropped altogether in the place of social exchanges, peace rallies, and committee meetings, the foundation of our covenant community can begin to crumble.

Even our potlucks can undermine the knitting together of our covenant communities, if the meals morph into solely having a good time without discovering how it is within one another's souls and how we are faring with living into our measure of Light.

What's more, as new families and new attenders arrive at our meetings, they typically will pick up on how the rest of us engage with each other outside of worship: Do we talk about our Quakerism? Do we talk about our children? Do we talk about our week at the office?

If we restrict to waiting worship our reflection and expression of our spiritual encounters with the Divine, and if we dedicate our post-worship time to peace-and-justice announcements and activities, is it no wonder that those who are new to Friends come to see our meetings for worship as a place where what matters isn't so much about God in our lives as it is about having the hour of "silence" together, followed by the activities that encourage our apparent shared values?

Not that that's a bad thing; just that there is more to being a Friend than being able to sit in silence and then "go invisible" afterwards. There is the journey of learning to be obedient to the Spirit, and the acceptance of the very real possibility that at any moment, we can be changed, we can be transformed by the Light that shines within us.

Blessings,
Liz

OTHER POSTS in the series on Spiritual intimacy:
The next post (part II)
The post after that one (part III)

RELATED READING:
Members One of Another, by Thomas Gates.

Come to the Banquet!

Here's a comment I posted on Ruthie-Annie's blog about what my worship experience has been recently in the worship group I attend. As usual, it's very hard to capture the mystical, spiritual dimension of an experience. Is it any surprise that the English language is so limited in describing that which is Eternal? Some might even desire that words be left alone and that the experience itself provide the language for each worshipper.

Given my concern that we share a living, meaningful Quakerism with others so that its Life and Power can continue to be nourished and cultivated, I will err on the side of being explicit--open--about the experiences I have in worship and among Friends. That said, Meeting for Worship is not the core of my Quakerism, though this post might be interpreted as that. The core of my Quakerism (as I understand my Quakerism at this point) is the desire to understand and be obedient to the Guidance of the Spirit, to seek that understanding and pursue that obedience among a covenant community, to listen to and listen for the Inward Teacher.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
The "What do you (Quakers) do in the silence?" is a question that I always have to draw a deep breath around. (Like just now. Seriously.)

I am currently part of a newly formed, yet unnamed worship group in Minnesota. We've been worshipping together for 2 years. [UPDATE: Go to the website for this now-named worship group.] One thing we have in common that differs greatly from one of the nearby large monthly meetings is that we each have a belief in and an experiential knowledge of Something Divine. And we are experiencing a sort of spiritual intimacy: we share openly our desire to know the Spirit, to seek the Spirit's Guidance for us, to tell one another when and how the Spirit has shown up for us in our lives, and to tell each other when we are feeling dry and distant from the Spirit.

When we come together for worship, given our shared belief in the Divine, there is a mutual, reciprocal trust that we are, in fact, doing the same thing:

We are being still so that we may listen more clearly to that which God is wanting to tell us, show us, sing to us, whisper to us... We have come to the Banquet, ready to be fed by the Bread of Life and then some!

There is such unity in our practice and in our belief--that God is still speaking to us--that many times in our short 2 years, when worship was broken, during a period of quiet reflection, a number of us have spoken of our inward tenderness, our sense of connectedness and our experience of the Divine Mystery. And often our experiences are confirmed when we hear one another speak of the sense of the Presence in our midst that we ourselves experienced...

As for what I do in worship...? Sometimes I catch myself "trying" to listen inwardly to the Shepherd. But the trying gets in the way, much like when learning a new language, if I focus on translating word by word, I miss the concept that is encased in the message. But if I relax and simply absorb the whole message, something deep within me makes all the connections I need, and Voila! I understand what is being said, despite the fact that I did not translate it word by word.

So in worship, when I realize I am trying to listen instead of actively resting as a way into listening, then I am able to return to a relaxed receptive state. I find that I often feel my lower back moves against the back of the chair as I do so. I end up imagining or even sensing that God is standing behind me, arms thrown around my shoulders, and I lean, I lean into those Everlasting Arms...

Other times, especially recently, I have come to understand that in unprogrammed Quaker worship, there is an invitation for us all to be at the Holy Spirit's Table, the Banquet, and we are there as guests, and we are there to listen to our Dinner Host when the time comes. We will need to pay attention, and at the time when God speaks, we will all lean in to listen more carefully, and occasionally we will nudge one another and smile at one another when we recognize that God is speaking to our mutual condition; and when it is over, we will go home full, having been Well Fed by our time Together with the Spirit.

. . . . . . . .

Sadly for me, in a meeting in which there is great spiritual variety, I have experienced no sense of that corporate connection or gatheredness, and I find I mostly end up focusing on my own thoughts, my own world. Occasionally I can imagine God circling us all together, but that then interferes with my ability to Rest in God and Listen.

The image I have in less centered meetings for worship is that, around the Banquet Table, the dinner guests are each doing different things: some are reading; some are knitting with the radio on in the background; some are having whispered conversations with one another... And I picture myself throwing down my chair and saying, "Hey! There is something Magnificent being shared with us here, and I can't Listen or Hear with so much activity going on!"

My fear of being so "radical" usually quells that impulse pretty quickly, though. smile

As I empty myself into this piece, I feel I have articulated a number of things that have been turning over and over inside myself. I am grateful for and humbled by my fellow Quaker bloggers, and I'll be adding Ruthie-Annie to my links.

Blessings,
Liz