Theological unity and spiritual diversity

For some time now, I have been at a crossroads in my Quaker journey. On the one hand, I have come to accept that one of the ministries of the monthly meeting that holds my membership, is its openness to a broad spectrum of spiritual diversity among its worshipers. On the other hand, I have come to greater clearness—and also greater acceptance—that I am likely not to thrive in the life of the meeting because of its broad spiritual diversity.

This isn't exactly anything new that I'm relating here. But there is an image, a message, that has been wanting to be shared around similar thoughts, and I have been waiting for an opening to do so.

A tale of two natures

During an adult education program earlier this spring, about the Conservative-leaning worship group that has been established in the area, a number of Friends within the monthly meeting recalled fondly the days when they themselves were part of a smaller meeting or rural worship group, one in which Friends knew one another more deeply, "where everybody knows your name."

Towards the end of the hour, I recall that one Friend expressed her appreciation of the monthly meeting's variety of belief and spirituality that exists within it; that such variety is a blessing for her and others. Maybe she said that the spiritual variety enriches one's life, just as nature needs its biodiversity in order to thrive; and there is learning and an exchange of ideas that occur as a result of the diversity.

I recall that many Friends nodded in agreement. I also concurred, as far as nature's need for biodiversity goes. And it's true that God speaks to us through many vehicles, and all are needed.

Inwardly, though, I knew that the spiritual diversity of the meeting had been in essence creating a drought in my personal meadow: I had needed something different in order to thrive, and I had discovered a spiritual care in the worship group that brought healing water to my roots...

My recollection is that towards the end of her comments, the Friend—gentle in spirit and deeply caring in her soul—then asked those of us from the worship group:

Is there a danger for your group in having a unity of belief, a unity of theology?

In this question I am aware of a series of underlying cautions, that unity of belief is bad because it is insular; a unity of belief that is insular is dangerous because it is rigid; and a rigid, insular unity of belief can lead to a single, unquestionable creed that can be (and has been) used to oppress, disempower, persecute.

But just as quickly as came the awareness of possible cautions, so too came the awareness that inwardly, my heart was weeping. Not because of the cautions, but because in that moment, I felt I was horribly misunderstood. I wanted Friends to understand that for me, my learning has not been restricted because of the unity of belief within the worship group; my learning in fact has been enhanced in a different way because of the openness and commitment there is among us to seek the Spirit together!

Creeds and spectrums

And so I am aware of the intersection of both things: (1) It is true that if a shared understanding of belief, a theological unity is codified into a creed, it certainly could kill the spirit rather than lift up the Life out of which the unity originally grew, especially over the generations that follow. And (2) It is also true that if there is too broad a spectrum of belief—a theologically permeable membrane around the community of worshipers—eventually the Life out of which the acceptance was initially encouraged will draw in practices and beliefs that have little to do with the core of the Religious Society of Friends.

My understanding is that Friends have no creed because our direct experience of the Living Spirit and of our continuing revelation cannot be summarized or anticipated by a single statement of faith. The lack of a creed does not mean that "anything goes," though. As with many dualities in Quakerism, like the balance between the prophetic and the practical, and between the individual and the meeting community, there probably needs to be a balance struck between bringing out the welcome mat and showing folks the property lines: Yes, all are welcome to worship among us; and no, not all of us may be easy with coming under the discipline of the meeting, whether that discipline be loose or firm.

Be fully who we are called to be

I don't recall how the Friend's specific question was responded to at the time of the adult education program, but what I do recall is how the Spirit moved through me a few hours later that afternoon, during the worship group's regular meeting for worship, as I reflected on the events of that morning.

From my journal:

Third Month 2005

It is true that we [in the worship group] all freely profess our belief in the Divine, and our belief that if we listen, we can hear the Guidance and Instruction that God would have for us (God or Jesus or Christ or Great Spirit or...)

Yet I believe it is also true that we shall be called to respond with great Love if one among us expresses a perspective that at first blush appears contrary to the Light.

And yet my mind was not [made] clear; I was not satisfied. And again the question did rise for me as I sat in worship. And this time, I sat myself aside and I attended deeply so that I may understand.

At first I was shown a meadow with wildflowers, and I thought I was being shown the monthly meeting of which the original Friend spoke, with each Friend being represented by each flower, and also the diversity of life as sustained by the biodiversity within the meadow.

I expected next to see a rose garden, with the same rose repeated over and over again—a unity of belief—but this was not to be.

Instead I was shown the center of an enormous seed head of a sunflower. Hundreds of seeds packed tightly together, dense and seemingly uniform.

And I was made to understand that God does not ask the sunflower to be a rose; God does not ask the sunflower seed to be a rose hip. God asks for the sunflower to be completely a sunflower; the sunflower seed to be completely a sunflower seed. And the sunflower would not exist if the sunflower seeds did not congregate around their completeness, their wholeness and fullness of their being sunflower seeds, a unity of their deepest essence.

If I do not go as fully as I can into my faith and belief in the Spirit, I will disallow the sunflower from reaching the Light. But neither must I insist that the coneflower seed be a sunflower seed or the rose hip be a grass head. For that is the danger in unity of belief, to restrict the freedom to be faithful in being fully who we are called to be.

And in that freedom, so is the meadow made healthy and alive.

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

Afterthoughts

At the time of the adult education program, I did not originally speak with the Friend who posed the question about unity of belief. Preparing this post prompted me to do so, and I'm glad I did. When I asked her about the intent behind her question, the Friend replied she truly meant for the question to be given a fair amount of thought; that she had no hidden agenda in asking it.

She and I had a delightful exchange, then, about the developmental need to have safe spaces in which to process, decompress, express ourselves freely, and gain support before re-engaging in the larger world. Also, we share the concern that at some point in our journey, if we remain insular to the point of being separatist, we run the danger of staying stuck in our thinking, not allowing more Light into our lives.

We ended the conversation:

Me: I find it ironic that as spiritually diverse as the monthly meeting is—which many Friends like—I am too God-oriented for it.

Her: Well, Liz, it makes sense that the meeting may be too eclectic for you!

Perhaps next time I'll be ready to ask the question:

Is there a danger for your group in having so much variety of belief, so much variety of theology?

Blessings,
Liz

God is a monster with claws

The Conservative-leaning worship group of which I have been a part has been helpful to me during some tender times in my Quaker journey, just to have a small community of Friends who share an understanding of God's relation to why we do what we do--in worship, as we seek good order, etc.

The fellowship we have, with 3 kids under the age of 4, has likewise been very tender and enriching. Since my brothers have no kids and my brother-in-law's daughter lives in Florida, where my partner and I visit once a year, I've never had the Opportunity to be part of a kid's life in this way, to watch them go through teething, taking their first steps, babbling, saying their first words... It's rewarding and a small miracle when one or two of the children recognize me--me! a grown-up who is not their parent!--when I step into their home and they smile at me, or even ask me to play with them. Wow.

These kids are keeping me honest about my God-talk in a subtle, new way. For example, Emily who turns 4 in June talked about her experience on the playground while the adults were in worship. When the kids joined us later for open sharing and reflection, Emily declared most definitively that she was "chased by a monster with claws" (the "monster" was one of the adults who was providing childcare). Out of the blue, one Friend asked her: How do you know it wasn't God? and she answered, "Because it had claws and was a monster!"

Then another adult asked the same young Friend, "Is it possible that God could have claws and chase you?" She didn't know what to make of that, so I turned to the older Friend and asked him, "Have you experienced God chasing you with claws?" to which he replied he had, in fact.

The conversation was fun and light, but there was of course some ministry and spiritual fellowship going on, too. I loved it!

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
A very few seconds later, I recalled a phrase I first saw in a Thomas Kelly pamphlet. I asked the worship group, "Didn't Thomas Kelly write about something, "the hound of heaven"? The phrase was familiar to most of us in the group, and since then I've found Kelly's pamphlet Holy Obedience online. Among other quotes from this William Penn Lecture of 1939 is this one:

The Hound of Heaven is on our track, the God of Love is wooing us to His Holy Life.

Yes, I love that image of an all-compassionate God, using Pure Love to draw us into obedience, gently and unavoidably, as we are ready...

Also there is this longer quote:

The Hound of Heaven is ever near us, the voice of the Shepherd is calling us home. Too long have we lingered in double-minded obedience and dared not the certainties of His love. For Him do ye seek, all ye pearl merchants. He is "the food of grown men." Hasten unto Him who is the chief actor of the drama of time and Eternity. It is not too late to love Him utterly and obey Him implicitly and be baptized with the power of the apostolic life.

(For the poets out there, the phrase "hound of heaven" apparently comes from Francis Thompson's poem The Hound of Heaven.)

Yes, I do believe there are times when God feels like a monster with claws, hounding me. But God hounds me only when I am not being diligent, when I am being stubborn or simply dense, and I cannot hear the Call.

...There are times when just a whisper or a tickle is all that is needed to awaken me; and then there are times when I must be hounded and haunted, so that I may be returned to this, the Holy Life.

Blessings,
Liz

Activism and being faithful

Over at Ruthie-Annie, I made a comment to her post about what it means to live an integrated life. In the comment, I wrote, "As a Quaker, activism and being faithful are one and the same."

Another reader and fellow Quaker blogger asked me to explain what I meant, which I found has been hard for me to do directly. What I'll do instead, then, is to give you the story and situation of when I made this remark, and perhaps by way of context, the meaning will become clearer.

A group of LGBTQ Friends and allies were finishing up another tender Meeting for Worship recently. This particular group has been convening a monthly MfW for a number of months now, in light of Minnesota's push for an amendment that would ban same-sex marriage and civil unions. A few Friends in this group are very eager to jump into the political and legislative arena, and some have already contacted legislators, written a personal letter to their families and friends, made plans to attend the annual political rally that happens at the capitol, &c.

At the close of worship, we began to check-in about how we each were doing, given the political climate at the time. The more we shared our feelings about the turn of events in the state, the more agitated a number of us became: "There's so much to do!" "If I don't do it, I don't know who will!" "We're really the canaries in the mine shaft: many other groups are going to be affected down the road, and everyone's keeping their eyes on us and on this proposed amendment to see how toxic the political environment is..."

Since I'm not called to be politically active, I've learned to let others have that time after worship to vent, seek support, and build coalitions. If I add anything to this part of the discussion and sharing, it's usually around how to work within the life of the meeting, to lift up our concerns to the body, in the hopes that the meeting will get under the weight of them, and that straight Friends may come to understand more of what, as straight allies, is helpful to us.

For some reason, though, tonight was different. After listening for awhile, I interjected myself into the conversation. I think I started off by saying, "Y'know, there is something different about us in this group tonight than in other GLBTQ communities in Minnesota. We are Quaker, and that means something. It occurs to me that one of things it means is that our faithfulness to the call of the Spirit is what guides where we put our energies and how and where and when we are 'active.' I feel like I am being faithful to the leading I've been given around how to respond to this issue. If I let myself stray from my leading, I cannot be successful in my activism, and I have to trust that other Friends are also being equally faithful in following their leadings around this issue. For Friends, activism and being faithful are one and the same."

Most people (including myself, not too long ago!) would look at what I'm pursuing and wonder how that is being an activist, because it doesn't involve legislative work, protests, or letter writing. But when I understand and recognize that I am being faithful to the Spirit, well, that in and of itself is a form of activism.

Indeed: I feel the good raised up in me when I am faithful.

Delays in new posts due to Blogger

Friends,

It may be a while before I can post anything significant. I have several drafts in the works, some in response to your comments made elsewhere, but Blogger is having problems, apparently, with allowing users to access their drafts. At least, such is the report they have on their website, and such is the case I've been experiencing today (17 April 2005).

Hopefully, you'll see more of me here in the near future.

Blessings,
Liz