Beauty Surrounds Us

 

Beauty surrounds us,
but usually we need to be walking
in a garden to know it.

(Rumi, from 'Story Water', in 'Selected Poems')

Discernment

As part of the revision of Quaker faith & practice, the Book of Discipline Revision Committee has been working on how to describe and explain the practice of Quaker 'discernment'. Group members have produced some short discussion papers exploring this concept, and the working document below has been contributed by Joycelin Dawes. 

Discernment is a word Quakers use to talk about their way of making decisions, whether personal or in a group. Such decisions arise from searching inwardly for a source of wisdom that might guide the decision:

“The first Quakers discovered a source of insight, power and guidance within themselves, which they called by various names, including ‘the Inward Guide’, ‘the Light’, ‘the Seed’, ‘the Inward Teacher’ and ‘the Inward Christ’. Over centuries, the Religious Society of Friends has developed and refined a tradition of spiritual practice that can help to nurture a conscious connection to this source of inward guidance.”

(Craig Barnett, The Guided Life)

But this is not a vague or random process. Quaker practice blends key principles into a method used faithfully since the late seventeenth century. It comes from regular commitment to personal discernment, which in turn underpins the ability of a group to discern too. Although there are many aspects of a process of discernment, in practice they blend in a fluid way, and may include: 

• gathering and reviewing relevant information,

• recognising and setting aside fixed opinions, bias, emotional reactions or other internal ‘noise’,

• listening to a wide variety of points of view, remembering that each one has a ‘measure of the light” – holds a part of the truth,

• becoming still or centred, allowing the body, thoughts and feelings to settle down,

• opening the mind, heart and will to listen for what arises in you whatever it may be,

• tuning in to your deepest inward place, however you recognise it, then waiting and listening,

• reflecting with care on what arises in the stillness and

• finding words that best express the decision or direction that reflects this,

• in a group, crystallising a sense of a decision or direction into words which are initially drafted by the clerk, a person who is charged with listening for ‘the sense of the meeting’; their ‘draft minute’ is then refined by those present until all are satisfied it represents the most accurate expression that can be given of the sense of the meeting at this time,

• a decision that is discerned, whether personally or by a group, will be tested by being put into action and reviewed, and modified where necessary.

Quakers emphasise the importance of personal discernment as a way of searching inwardly for a decision or direction. It is a natural expression of the Quaker understanding that we can each access a source of inner wisdom and be guided by it. Practising personal discernment helps us to become more familiar with the particular nudges, prompts, voices and promptings of love and truth or other ways in which we perceive “the light”. This, in turn, enables us to become more able to discern decisions when we are part of a group.

Discernment rests on the experience of early Quakers who found that when they sat in a still and listening silence together, they experienced a sense of presence that would guide them if they were faithful to it:

“in the depth of common worship it is as if we found our separate lives were all one life, within whom we live and move and have our being.”
(Thomas Kelly, Quaker faith & practice 2.36)

Quakers use numerous words to name this inward source. Some commonly used Quaker words or phrases have been used above. Other phrases in common usage are “following the will of God”, “being Spirit-led”, “we seek through the stillness to know God’s will for ourselves and for the gathered group” (Quaker faith & practice 3.02), “what does Love ask of me /us?”. The variety in language indicates the diversity within Quakers in Britain of their experience of an inward source and the ways and words used to describe this. 

Some words are about how and what we experience and understand God / Spirit / Light / Teacher / Energy / Soul / inner source and other terms to be. Some are words or phrases that illustrate other facets of discernment. They are linked but with different usage; examples are Spirit-led; promptings of love and truth; being led; a leading, and many more. There are other Quaker discernment processes that are used in particular situations – e.g. clearness, threshing, testing, concern, Meeting for Worship for Business, clerking, nominations.

Sometimes the word discernment is used about quite routine or minor decisions; nevertheless, it still reflects a faithful commitment that decisions are Spirit-led. On other occasions, a discernment may be reached after a long and difficult period of wrestling with an issue, and represents a growing point or radical new direction. Yet, the outcome is a decision that is in unity. Where it is a matter of personal discernment, the decision – made after much heart-searching – may be very different to what we might have considered at the outset yet its unity is felt as a true sense of our prompting. When a decision is the outcome of a group discernment, affirming the group is in unity means those present accept it has been reached properly through Quaker discernment, even though some may struggle with the content of the decision. What is essential is to recognise that discernment is a skill to be practised. As individuals we can each become familiar and more practised at recognising the particular ways from nudges to gut instincts that are attuned to our Inward Light. It is important to distinguish between the many ‘voices’ we encounter within and discern which are true and which are not. Similarly, in a group, we learn to listen for and to the measure of truth that is in other points of view which may be quite contrary to our own yet, together, make up a tapestry from which the discerned direction becomes clear. 

In the varied ways we find to describe our experience and understanding, the essence of authentic discernment is the same: the art of listening to and embodying the movement of God within us, both for ourselves and corporately. For Quakers this is articulated in our principles and processes of discernment.

Joycelin Dawes

The Revision Committee welcomes your responses and reflections. You can contribute by leaving a comment below, or contact the committee with your suggestions directly by email to: qfp@quaker.org.uk or by using the webform here.

The Forest Dweller

We are all ageing. If we are fortunate, each of us will pass through young adulthood into middle and old age; and yet our culture is strangely silent about these typical life-passages. The idea of a 'midlife crisis' is the closest our society comes to acknowledging the transitions that most of us experience in some form. Unfortunately, our stereotypes about midlife often seem to trivialise its challenges rather than offering any useful guidance for navigating them.

Without any cultural signposts to guide us through the transition from the first to the second half of life, we may experience it as a frightening rupture, instead of an anticipated stage of maturation and opportunity. 

Many other cultures do provide maps to guide people through the major transitions of life, and they can offer useful insights for those of us who are seeking to make sense of our own life passages.

Hindu culture has a tradition of four main life stages or ashramas; the student (brahmacharya),  householder (grihastha), forest dweller (vanaprastha), and wandering ascetic (sannyasa).

The tasks and values of each ashrama are very different. The student stage is focused on learning and self-discipline, and householders must devote themselves to earning a living and their many responsibilities for family and community. Traditionally, around the age of fifty, or when the first grandchild is born, the forest dweller stage begins.

The forest dweller's priorities are different to those of the householder. The householder was preoccupied with the responsibilities of work, family, and the struggle for material security. The forest dweller begins a gradual process of withdrawing from practical responsibilities in order to prioritise the inward work of reflection and contemplation, as well as mentoring the younger generation.

This transition from the householder to forest dweller stage corresponds to what the Franciscan priest Richard Rohr (in Falling Upward: A Spirituality for the Two Halves of Life) calls the 'further journey' into the second half of our lives. He describes the task of the first half as establishing a 'container' for our lives - a home, family, relationships, an occupation and a sense of our place in the world. Of course for too many people the struggle simply to survive, to provide for themselves or their families, is unrelenting and never reaches a place of stability. But from a Hindu point of view, even if a person has managed to accomplish all these things, the most important tasks of life have not yet begun. The attainment of a home, a family, career, financial security, all of these, as good as they are, are only a preparation for the most crucial stages still to come.

When I reached the age of 40 I knew I needed a drastic change. With my characteristic tendency to go to extremes, this took the form of moving with my family to live in Zimbabwe, managing a rural development charity that was in acute financial crisis, in a country that had recently endured economic collapse, hyperinflation and famine.

Perhaps predictably this didn’t go that well for me, although our children had many valuable experiences. After returning to the UK I found, to my bewilderment, that I could no longer face the kind of managerial work I was doing before. I had become almost phobic about the life of meetings, offices and deadlines. Instead, I developed a passionate interest in working on the land. I retrained as an organic farmer and worked for several years on community food growing projects. 

Dramatic shifts like this are a common pattern as people move into midlife. Many people discover a desire to change career or to explore different sides of themselves, especially those skills or capacities they have neglected in the first half of life. 

These are signs of a transition to the second half of life, and the invitation to the forest dweller stage. Western culture recognises only the values of the first half of life, especially physical beauty, energy, status and achievement, and most of us try to cling onto these for as long as possible. Beyond youthful adulthood, ageing is usually thought of as an inevitable process of decline and deterioration. But the forest dweller stage has its own unique challenges and rewards.

Midlife can be an invitation to lay down some of the exhausting preoccupations of the householder life, and to begin to explore the quite different values of the forest dweller. The forest dweller stage opens opportunities for greater attention to the quieter and deeper satisfactions of everyday life. By withdrawing some of the time and energy previously invested in outward struggles and obligations, we can appreciate the simpler pleasures of time spent with friends and loved ones, of reflection, beauty and creativity.

The forest dweller stage does not usually involve a sudden renunciation of all practical commitments and responsibilities. Most people at midlife will continue to work and have responsibilities for family members and their communities. But there may be a turning of attention toward the inward work that has almost always been crowded out by the many obligations of the householder life.

For some this might mean reducing their hours of paid work, or changing to a less responsible or demanding job. People who have been very focused on achievement and recognition may find that these become less all-consuming goals. Instead of continuing to chase success they may be able to accept the place where they have arrived in life. 

The forest dweller also has important gifts to offer their community. Younger people may begin to turn to them for advice or support. Because the forest dweller is less invested in a competitive struggle for their own advancement, they can be more available to others. They can put their experience and maturity to use by sharing them with the generation that is still in the thick of the challenges and dilemmas of the householder life.

But increasingly the focus of the forest dweller's life may become what the Anglican contemplative Maggie Ross calls 'the work of silence'. This is her term for all of those practices that enable us to deepen our relationship with the inward source of life. Whether through traditional religious practices, or other creative, contemplative or ritual activity, the forest dweller's life may come to be increasingly centred on 

the unfolding activity of the Spirit within them.

By turning the focus of their energy and attention towards 'the work of silence', the forest dweller can discover new possibilities for a way of being in the world that is rooted in silence and open to mystery - an attentive and receptive stance that Ross calls 'beholding'. 

"The work of silence is so simple, yet to go against the grain of society and the culture is very difficult. But it is worth the effort: the work of silence and the way of being in the world that is beholding provide stability and even joy in a disintegrating world. People who undertake to live like this become beacons, islands of safety where others can find a refuge. The resonances of silence permeate the world around them, whether they are aware of them or not."

(Silence: A User's Guide, Vol 2)

Do you recognise this description of the 'forest dweller' stage in your own life? What have you learned about the transition to the second half of life?

A teachable moment

White people in the UK are usually very reluctant to talk about race. We are anxious to avoid getting it wrong and causing offence, but above all we are frightened of having our own innocence challenged. Most white people have a set of unconscious strategies to defend ourselves from even thinking about the evident racial inequalities that are all around us. But current events are offering us a teachable moment.

The Black Lives Matter movement has created a breakthrough in white people’s awareness of realities that we have habitually hidden from ourselves. This provides us with an opportunity to listen and respond; allowing our understanding to be expanded to include a broader perception of reality.

Whenever we experience a prompting to greater awareness, this is the Inward Light at work. The Quaker experience is that the Inward Light reveals the hidden aspects of our lives, including all the things about ourselves and the world that we would prefer not to acknowledge. Generations of Quakers have found that the Light exposes both the brokenness of the world and our own collusion with it, often in ways that are deeply uncomfortable and challenging.

I have become more aware recently in my own conversation of the ways that I habitually avoid acknowledging the evident social realities of race. This includes noticing for the first time the little hiatus in my speech as I realise I am going to have to mention a person’s race, and mentally scramble to find a way out of it. This avoidance is not just verbal, but also social. White people’s awkwardness about race and lack of skills for talking about it inhibits us in our relationships with people of colour, contributing to our tendency to form close friendships primarily or exclusively with other white people.

White people’s habitual refusal to acknowledge racial dynamics in our society and relationships is not neutral. Avoiding the subject does not avoid causing offence. It causes active harm, because it makes white people unable to hear the impact of our own behaviour on people of colour. This constant evasion is harmful in itself because it forces people of colour to have to prove the reality of their own experience in a way that will be acceptable to white people.

Reni Eddo-Lodge describes her own experience of white people’s habitual response when confronted with explicit reminders of racial inequality in her important book Why I’m No Longer Talking to White People About Race:

At best, white people have been taught not to mention that people of colour are ‘different’ in case that offends us… I just can’t engage with the bewilderment and the defensiveness as they try to grapple with the fact that not everyone experiences the world in the way that they do. They’ve never had to think about what it means, in power terms, to be white, so any time they’re vaguely reminded of this fact, they interpret it as an affront. Their eyes glaze over in boredom or widen in indignation. Their mouths start twitching as they get defensive. Their throats open up as they try to interrupt, itching to talk over you but not really listen, because they need to let you know that you’ve got it wrong.

White people who want to oppose racism are not innocent of this reaction. In some ways, we may be more inclined to defensiveness, because we so badly want to be in the right - to be seen to be innocent of racism and absolved of any responsibility for it:

White progressives can be the most difficult for people of color because, to the degree that we think we have arrived, we will put our energy into making sure that others see us as having arrived… White progressives do indeed uphold and perpetrate racism, but our defensiveness and certitude make it virtually impossible to explain to us how we do so.”
(Robin DiAngelo, White Fragility)

Unfortunately, on the subject of race there is no guarantee of always being in the right. There is no way as a white person in a racially unequal society that we can be certain of never doing or saying things that have a racist impact. Having Quaker values does not prevent us from contributing to patterns of behaviour that are harmful to people of colour. Racism cannot be eradicated just by good intentions, because it is not simply a matter of white people’s explicit attitudes. Above all, racism is the way that even unintentional words and behaviour impact harmfully and repeatedly on the same people, because of unequal access to power.

Feeling guilty about this is not helpful to people of colour. Too often, it is just another way for white people to place ourselves at the centre, saying in effect “poor me for happening to be born white, and inheriting the blame for slavery and colonialism ”. Personally, I don’t feel any responsibility for what white people have done in the past. What I am responsible for is what I choose to do with the privileges I am given by that history, which has created persistent inequalities that benefit me at the expense of people of colour.

Like every other white person, and even in the very liberal circles where I usually move, I have often heard racially prejudiced comments and witnessed behaviour that reinforces racial inequality. Very rarely have I ever challenged this. Usually it has felt more important not to create conflict, or I have made excuses to myself because it was not 'intentional' or motivated by ill-will. Unfortunately, this is not just me. It is such a consistent pattern of behaviour that it has been given a name - ‘white solidarity’, the way that white people routinely collude with each other to avoid challenging racism. Whenever I and other white people have failed to challenge behaviour which has a racist impact (irrespective of the motivations of those involved) we have been a part of perpetuating and supporting that racism.

I have also worked with refugees and migrant communities for many years, and until recently have never seen the need to educate myself adequately about the nature of structural racism. As a result, I have undoubtedly done and said many things that have had a racist impact over that time, through my own lack of awareness.

The good news is that white people can choose to start taking responsibility for learning about the racist impact of our own and others’ behaviour. We can make the effort to seek out feedback on how our behaviour affects people of colour. Instead of defending ourselves against uncomfortable information, we can welcome it as an opportunity to grow and to learn; even when it challenges our idea of ourselves as well-intentioned people and ‘good Quakers’.

Early Friends talked about an experience that they called ‘the Day of Visitation’:

The basic idea of the Day of Visitation is that there is a period of time in everyone’s life when they are open to hearing the voice of the Divine and acting on it. If they are attentive and obedient to this Divine Seed, it will grow and flourish in them and they will be led into a greater and stronger faith. If they ignore it, if they push it down and trample on the seed, eventually it will stop growing.
(William Taber, The Day of Visitation)

For many of us, the current uprising against racism may provide a crucial opportunity for a ‘day of visitation’, when we can be opened to the liberating power of the Inward Light that ‘shows us our darkness and leads us to new life’. 

Has the Black Lives Matter movement affected your awareness or behaviour in relation to racism?

I'm conscious that what I have written here may well be racially problematic in ways that I don't realise. I would welcome feedback from people of colour about how to improve the way I communicate about this subject.

One Wall, Two Prisons

There seems to be a traditional list of excuses for why so many Quaker Meetings fail to reflect the racial and social diversity of their local communities. These include:

“Silent worship doesn’t suit everyone.”

“We shouldn’t be trying to proselytise.”

“They prefer their own churches, which have lots of singing.”

“Muslims wouldn’t want to come to a Quaker Meeting anyway.”

“We do have lots of diversity, in people’s beliefs.”

“We welcome everyone, but we can’t force people to come.”

Despite their absurd inadequacy, versions of these statements are still frequently used to shut down the conversation as soon as this issue is raised in our Meetings.

But Friends who are not satisfied with these excuses, and want to encourage real dialogue about the possibility of more inclusive Quaker communities, are often unclear about the specifically Quaker motivation for this. Are there any reasons, beyond so-called ‘political correctness’, why Quakers should have a particular concern for the diversity of our Meetings and our movement?

It may be tempting to rely on the “Testimony to Equality” as a justification for wanting Quaker Meetings to be more inclusive, but I’m not convinced this is sufficient on its own. This is partly because the concept of “equality” is too vague to serve as much of a guide to actual practice. Quakers are very unlikely to dispute that people from different social and racial groups are ‘equal’, but this evidently doesn’t translate into any great motivation to get to know them. But relying on a testimony to equality also suggests that the motivation for wanting more inclusive communities is attempting to live up to an abstract ideal. In other words, it is because we think we ‘ought to’ be more diverse, as a way of doing a favour to ‘people less fortunate than ourselves’, rather than out of any desire for relationship with people who might actually have something valuable to offer.

In her eye-opening book ‘White Fragility’, Robin DiAngelo talks about the implicit message which white people receive from our culture; that we are not missing anything if we have no close relationships with people of colour. White people in racially divided societies such as the UK are brought up to assume that being isolated in a social bubble of whiteness comes without any cost, presumably because black and brown people have nothing to offer anyway. Relying exclusively on an ideal of ‘equality’ does nothing to challenge this assumption of white (and middle-class) self-sufficiency, and the status of everyone else as objects of Quaker philanthropy.


Instead of relying on ‘equality’ as the basis of a conversation about diversity in our Meetings, I think it would be more helpful to reflect on what our core Quaker practices need in order to fully realise their potential; especially the practice of discernment in our Meetings for Worship for Business.

In a perceptive discussion of Quaker discernment, Tim Peat-Ashworth and Alex Wildwood argue that “inspiration operating through diversity is God’s way of working”. (Rooted in Christianity, Open to New Light, 2009). In other words, difference is integral to the way that Quakers seek communal guidance.

Quaker discernment relies on a range of viewpoints and experiences being made available to the community through the contributions of its members. None of us individually has the breadth of perspective to be able to see every side of a complex issue, or to fully appreciate ideas that are very far from our own experience. In a community of people with diverse life journeys, we are given the opportunity to learn from each other how to see the world from many different points of view. It is this capacity to listen and learn from our differences that enables communities sometimes to get beyond partial or self-interested motives, and to recognise the divine ‘promptings of love and truth’, wherever they are leading us.

It is sometimes claimed that ‘it doesn’t matter who is in the Meeting for Worship for Business’; because it is God’s purposes we are seeking, rather than our own agendas. But this ignores the important part that each person’s knowledge and experience brings to the practice of discernment. I don’t believe the Spirit will magically give us all the information we need without our active participation (which is why we are urged to come to Meeting “with hearts and minds prepared”). So our own knowledge and experience matters, and the wider the range of experience we have to draw on, the greater our capacity to weigh all of the considerations that are relevant to the issue at hand.

The participation of people from different racial and class backgrounds, ages, abilities and other life journeys is not a matter of ‘representation’; as if they are expected to represent the agendas of competing interest groups. We should not value Friends for their identity labels, but for the different insights and life experiences they bring to our collective discernment. Just as we would consider an all-male committee inadequate, we should be able to recognise that Quaker approaches to politics or spirituality will be sadly limited if (as is often the case) they exclude the perspectives of people who are racially marginalised, working-class or under 50.

It is certainly true that it is not easy to change the composition of Quaker Meetings and committees; why should it be? But the inevitable challenges and failures have for too long been trotted out as reasons to stay as we are and keep doing things the way we are used to. Most importantly, we need to see the lack of diversity in many of our Quaker communities as ‘our problem’ rather than ‘theirs’. If we are serious about practising Quaker discernment faithfully, we will want to prioritise the participation of Friends with diverse life journeys, and be willing to make whatever changes this requires. Instead of making excuses for carrying on as we are, we would engage in a deliberate enquiry to discover what aspects of our current practice are experienced as exclusionary. This would involve, of course, actually asking people of different ages, social and racial backgrounds, instead of simply making assumptions about their needs and preferences.

On the Israeli side of the ‘separation wall’ surrounding the West Bank there is a piece of graffiti that reads “One wall, two prisons”. The truth this expresses is that exclusion and separation impoverish everyone. Our own society, which is so starkly divided by barriers of race and class, also deprives us of relationships with people whose life experiences are very different from our own. As Quakers, whose spiritual practice relies on collective discernment, we are even more reliant on learning from people with different backgrounds and life journeys. None of us has the whole picture: we need each other.

What is your experience of diversity (or the lack of it) in Quaker communities? Have you found ways to have useful conversations about this issue in your Meeting?

Quaker Leadership in times of crisis

This is a guest post by John Gray, Zélie Gross and Wess Daniels. Together they are currently co-tutoring an online Woodbrooke course, Leadership Amongst Friends.

Leadership in a Quaker sense can often be compared to servant leadership – the gathering and promotion of the group as a whole, relying always on spirit-led decision-making rather than quick fixes, valuing people, showing authenticity, and modelling good leadership and good followership. In the phrase of George Lakey, leadership is ‘taking initiative in relationship’: the offering of ideas or inspiration whilst also relying on and building on the deep connection we have with the people around us. 

  

What might leadership by and amongst Quakers look like in a time of global crisis such as we are experiencing with the coronavirus pandemic? What can we offer when overwhelming external conditions wrench the helm of the boat out of our hands?

In parts of the world, an increase in violence is one of the many terrible consequences of the virus and community/economic lock-down – violence on streets or within communities, and behind closed doors. Children and other vulnerable people are being denied support which they may have had access to in the past. Quakers around the world, and their worshipping communities, are being challenged in how they respond, and facing stark dilemmas between acting to contain the virus and speaking up for the rights and protections of the vulnerable.

This article is not a call for heroic one-person “command and control” form of leadership. It is rather a wondering about how those in formal roles within our Quaker communities and organisations, and those who have informal influence within them, can ensure that effective worship and witness continue and that our communities flourish. The call on leadership at this time is neither to lose sight of the current realities, nor to neglect established Quaker principles and practices, nor to ignore possibilities in a changed future. There is a lot to take care of in all of that; Friends are called to express their leadership in the practical business of taking care in a range of necessary ways:

Taking care of others

Be an enabler – of community, of connections, of relationship, of mutual support.

Be a mediator: everyone is under pressure; before asking yourself which side you are on in a conflict, ask yourself how you can mediate.

Be a listener: do more listening than telling or explaining; you won’t be heard if you don’t listen. And be patient – listen for the stress, anxiety, fear and dismay behind anger, impatience or criticism.

Be alert to the fact that everyone is having to do things differently, and some will be much less comfortable or familiar with change (and with electronic platforms!) than others. Be prepared to teach or handhold to help people learn.

Taking care of yourself

You will be ahead of some in your community in responding to the crisis, and for others you will not be responding quickly enough. Both groups may criticise you (though for different reasons). Thick skins and personal support-networks really help.

Pay attention to your own spiritual and physical well-being! - you can't walk the path without caring for yourself as well as for others. What daily practices can you commit to, to support your own wellbeing and to refill the well of spiritual nurture? What are your support networks that you can draw on?

Some mindsets can help too: accepting we're all perfectly imperfect; good enough may in fact what’s required; and, "This too will pass...".

You should not feel as though you’re alone in all this; but if your community is unable to respond effectively to the crisis, it's unlikely that you on your own can pull everyone else through.

Taking care of the task

The core Quaker testimonies – to truth, peace, simplicity, equality – always remain as essential foundations for why we act, and the way we act.

The challenge of decision-making amidst volatile, unstable, complex and ambiguous events makes it even more essential to ensure our own communications are clear and unambiguous. New ways of working and communicating verbally may lead to power vacuums; and they may result in decision-making structures and allocations of responsibilities which don’t fit current realities.

The number and frequency of communications increases exponentially; you won't hear everything or notice everything which is demanding your attention. Be ready to re-prioritise, to call for focus on specific things, and re-negotiate about what's essential. Regular “Covid catch-ups” might be helpful, to keep key conversations going amongst convenors and clerks.

Other people's sense of urgency can trick you into reacting rather than responding. It's OK to ask for time, to consult, to discern.

Be a learner – this is new for all of us, and some things may never be the same again.

Navigation through and beyond the crisis

Often three stages can be seen in responding to a crisis: dealing with the immediate challenge; then keeping the overall community or organisation going; and then readying ourselves for the return of ‘normality’ - or as in this case, the likelihood of a new different normal. What might these phases look like in a Quaker community or a Quaker-led organisation within a lockdown area?

The immediate challenge: This phase may already be coming to an end for some: the safe closure of meeting houses and offices; the arrangements made for staff and committees; the shifting of worship into a virtual setting. Many Friends have made huge strides in these areas, strides which may not have been imaginable even a few weeks ago, and we are finding that for many of us virtual meetings for worship can still have depth and intimacy. As a community, these crisis moments show us our strengths as well as our weaknesses.

Keeping going: Once things have begun to settle a little, what else needs to be sorted or resolved after the urgency of the first few weeks? Elders and Overseers will be considering what a Quaker community in lockdown can look like: in the face of physical distancing, how can social and spiritual connecting be promoted? Trustees, treasurers and premises committees will need to remember the legal responsibilities still impinging on us. For those meeting houses and organisations relying on income to continue, what are the cash flow forecasts, and where can legitimate postponement or ending of expenditure take place? What contingency plans can be made? It’s worth remembering that most organisations go bust not because they are making losses, but because they run out of cash. Is this a potential risk in your context?

Being ready for the new future: It is natural to want times like this, times of uncertainty, to come to an end quickly so we can get back to normal. The reality is that we will not go back to the way things were, there will be a new future, a new normal. This is a time of great change – much of it is deeply scary and painful, much loss and grief has occurred already. But we can leverage this moment as Friends for positive change, for regeneration in our meetings and Quaker institutions. This can be a moment to recalibrate or reprioritize: how are we caring for the poor and most vulnerable in our communities? As so much of our lives, including our work and worship, have moved online, are there lessons from the things we see working well and which translate into this new context, about what is most important? Are we noting and learning from what is hard, lost in translation, or feels futile? Have you had time to think through how your personal life, your meeting life, and your work life will be like after lockdown? What changes can we already anticipate within our own Quaker communities? What needs are likely to be present in the local communities beyond our meeting house doors, and how should we respond? What will love require of us?

Wess Daniels is lives in Greensboro, North Carolina (USA). He is the Director of the Friends Center and Quaker Studies at Guilford College.

John Gray is an attender at York's (UK) Friargate Quaker Meeting. He works as an organisational coach, supervisor and consultant.

Zélie Gross lives in Penarth in South Wales (UK). She is the author of With a tender hand: A resource book for eldership and oversight (Quaker Books, 2015).

Introducing 'The Guided Life'

This is a brief introduction to my new book The Guided Life, which is part of the 'Quaker Quicks' series of short books about the Quaker way.

If you have already read it, please consider writing a review on the Quaker bookshop website, Goodreads or Amazon.

I would also welcome your feedback about the book in the comments below.

I hope you are keeping safe and well in these troubled times.

Introducing Quaker Worship

As part of the work of the Book of Discipline Revision Committee, we have been experimenting with different approaches to what we are calling 'the voice of the book' - the explanatory text that introduces each chapter.

Some priorities we have already identified are making the language clear and accessible, and not assuming that readers will already be familiar with  Quaker practice. We are looking for ways to explain both how Quaker practices are carried out and why we do them like this, while acknowledging the wide variety of religious language and understandings within Britain Yearly Meeting.

This is still a work in progress for the committee, and no text has been agreed yet, but this is my own experimental attempt at our most recent exercise - to produce a short introduction to a chapter on Quaker Worship (which I would expect to be followed by a wide range of extracts reflecting different Friends' experience).

Quaker Worship 

Worship is a movement of our whole being towards a spiritual reality that is ultimately mysterious, but that we can know by experience. Quakers name this reality as God, Spirit, Light, or in a range of other ways. 

In the practice of Quaker worship, we meet together to turn our attention towards the Inward Light. Quakers have traditionally understood the Inward Light as a divine gift of spiritual perception. It enables us to see our true situation, by uncovering our deepest insights and motivations. This Inward Light also reveals the guidance of the Spirit for us as individuals and communities. In Quaker worship, we “wait in the Light”. We wait in stillness to see what is revealed to us in the depths of our own awareness. 

In a Quaker meeting for worship the gathered community may encounter a shared depth of stillness and a sense of divine presence. When this experience is shared by most or all of those present, there is a profound sense of being united in the Spirit that Quakers refer to as a “gathered” meeting; 

“a meeting where the silence is as soft as velvet, as deep as a still pool; a silence where words emerge, only to deepen and enrich that rich silence, and where Presence is as palpable and soft as the skin of a peach; where the membrane separating this moment in time and eternity is filament-fine.”
(Gerald Hewitson, 2013) 

Through waiting in the Light, we may come to a wordless encounter with the inward source of life and power – a sense of loving Presence beneath thoughts and concepts. In that place, we become receptive to the insights of love and truth that may arise to teach us, and that might lead us to offer spoken ministry.

In Quaker worship new insights may come to anyone in the community, whatever their age or experience, and they will be listened to as potential bearers of divine guidance. Anyone who takes part in a Quaker meeting for worship may be led by the Spirit to speak spontaneously to the meeting, to pass on whatever insights or guidance they have received. This reflects the Quaker emphasis on worship as a source of guidance towards action. The purpose of Quaker worship is to encounter the source of inward transformation that may inspire and lead us to act; to speak in a Meeting for Worship, to make some change in our own lives, or to work for change in our community or society. 

The Quaker way of worship is marked by its great simplicity. Quaker worship does not rely on a particular building or specially-qualified ministers. It is open to everyone on a basis of complete equality; whatever our gender, sexuality or background. Quaker worship does not require special techniques or great natural ability, but it does demand our self-discipline and self-surrender. 

“Give over thine own willing, give over thy own running, give over thine own desiring to know or be anything and sink down to the seed which God sows in the heart, and let that grow in thee and be in thee and breathe in thee and act in thee; and thou shalt find by sweet experience that the Lord knows that and loves and owns that, and will lead it to the inheritance of Life, which is its portion.”
(Isaac Penington, 1661)

I would welcome your thoughts and suggestions on this exercise in the comments below. If you have suggestions about the content of the next Book of Discipline you can also submit them directly using the online form at: https://forms.quaker.org.uk/qfp-idea/

An Uprising of Kindness

This is a guest post by Derek Guiton, reviewing Alaistair Macintosh's book Poacher's Pilgrimage: An Island Journey.

Alastair McIntosh, Poacher's Pilgrimage: An Island Journey ( Edinburgh: Birlinn, 2016, rpt. 2018 in paperback). ISBN 9781780274683. £9.99.

Alastair McIntosh has written a beautiful, inspirational and soul-searching book, the result of an adventurous twelve day trek across the Isles of Harris and Lewis in the Outer Hebrides where the author grew up. As soon as I opened this book, I found myself gripped by the excitement of the preparations and full of anticipation for the inner and outer discoveries that would follow. I certainly wasn't disappointed. The Outer Hebrides are famous for their neolithic standing stones, sacred sites, ruined chapels and other archaeological remains, often shrouded in mystery but offering plenty of scope for the historical and religious imagination.

These are the outworks and spiritual interiors that McIntosh visits as he takes us on a rollicking tour of a truly extraordinary landscape where scenic beauty and economic hardship go hand in hand, and where the people are still intuitively in touch, despite their ingrained Presbyterianism, with the pre-Christian 'Otherworld' and its stories of faery enchantment. It is from the liminal spaces between these worlds that McIntosh explores the myths and legends of this aeons-old Hebridean culture. Rather than dismissing its thought-patterns as mere childish superstitions, he sees them as revealing a traditional cosmology that 'questions the very structures of space and time, exploring consciousness and meaning in the deeper realms of life within the soul'. And he shows how such historically remote cultures with their different understandings and ways of being can open a path to reflection on some of the most urgent problems facing the world today.

Reading this book, I was delighted to discover parallels with my own childhood in the west of Ireland, the mixture of magic, mystery and myth that hung over the town of Sligo in those far-off days when I was a boy, the holy wells, the cromlechs, the cairn atop Mount Knocknarea believed to be the last resting place of Maeve, Queen of Connaught, the glens and waterfalls where one had to tread carefully for fear of 'the little folk' who might emerge and challenge the unwary. McIntosh's tale of the enchanted dancer with a jar of whisky on his back who is attracted by music coming from the fairy knoll, and ends up dancing himself to death, has a counterpart in the sleeper in the hillside, 'a great lad with a beery face', in The Hour Before Dawn, a poem by the Sligo poet, W.B. Yeats. And without wishing to press the comparison too far, I would challenge anyone to read (perhaps in conjunction with McIntosh's chapter 'The Rising of the Sith') Yeats' short poem, The Unappeasable Host, and deny that it refers to something deep and meaningful in the human psyche, accessible more to the religious mind than to that of the atheist or rationalist.

Yeats' poetry is saturated in the Sligo landscape - and soulscape - just as McIntosh's exuberantly poetic prose is steeped in the legends, folk tales, ancient sites and sacred locations of Lewis. It is work like McIntosh's, I believe, that will eventually rehabilitate the early Yeats, the Yeats of the 'Celtic twilight', making that 'other dimension' poignantly relevant again, a gentle but powerful antidote to the de-sacralising pressures, the materialism, the militarism, the commercial greed and environmental destructiveness of our modern way of life.

It is these harder - political - questions that the book primarily addresses. Poacher's Pilgrimage is essentially a work of resistance, espousing a non-violent activism that also speaks of healing, love and forgiveness. McIntosh meets up with an RAF pilot, home from a bombing raid in Afghanistan. The man is in an agony of mind and feels defiled by what he has seen and done. McIntosh tells him he no longer needs forgiveness, he is already forgiven. The point is, that faced with the unspeakable crimes of our rulers and those with power, we need a different spirit - 'an uprising of kindness'. What this involves can be summed up in a single phrase - 'Spiritual Activism', the title of another remarkable book by McIntosh, written in collaboration with his friend, the climate activist, Matt Carmichael.

Spiritual activism is concerned above all with community. Community here doesn't just mean the communities that configure our own age and which we think of as 'modern' and increasingly as 'broken'. It means community in its wholeness, reaching into the memories and meanings of the past, seeking fellowship with those who have gone before, 'the ancestral dead in the graveyard who are in some sense still alive, there in another dimension of existence', and straining after a future in which justice will be victorious. So as well as the archaeological sites, McIntosh visits an interesting array of native islanders. These are people whose tribal memory goes back to the battle of Culloden, the highland clearances, the industrial revolution and the two world wars, the weight of a history 'that breaks the heart'. The problems now faced by the people of the Scottish Highlands, due in part to this history of defeat and exploitation, include very high levels of heart disease, alcoholism and suicide.

As a spiritual activist and healer, McIntosh is concerned with reconnecting people and communities with the life-giving wells of their mythical, spiritual and religious antecedents, the 'holy wells' now overgrown with mosses and bracken, the importance of clearing which to reveal the pure life-giving waters beneath cannot be overstated. These are the metaphors and symbols that give us identity, refreshment and strength. Without a spiritual basis to our activism, he suggests, we are in grave danger of burn-out. I once saw inscribed on the lintel of an old Quaker Meeting House the words 'God being with us, who can be against?' Most translations of Romans 8.31 begin with the conditional 'if', but the old Quakers were confident that God was indeed with them, an ever-present support, and so they changed the wording slightly but significantly - a subtle shift from the outwardly combative to the inwardly holy. By having a religious faith and not relying entirely on our own strength as individuals or communities we may achieve a longer lasting and deeper commitment whilst avoiding burn-out. Is it any accident that the longer established foodbanks and homelessness projects tend to be those that are church sponsored?

Curiously, the one thing on this long meditative journey that McIntosh doesn't do particularly well is poach - unless dipping his rod into the wells of the Celtic past, as he deciphers the meaning of the 'tumbled stonework' scattered along the route, can be described as a kind of poaching. But the book is undoubtedly a religious pilgrimage and one where the inner cartography is as important as the outer. His frequent detours in search of some archaeological relic or craggy islander who is also a local seer and custodian of the island's traditional identity merge with a digressive stream of internal reflections as he searches for a perspective which brings together his 'political' interests, his sense of the 'imaginal' Otherworld from which the meaning structures of our contemporary world arise, and his personal sense of the real presence of God.

McIntosh is to be located within the liberal tradition of a 'progressive Christianity', open to the influences of other faiths and none. But he is far from seeking to jettison God or the meaning of the cross. This he sees as the Christ whose love and ultimate sacrifice absorbs - symbolically - the violence and oppression of the world. Neither is he seeking to promote a vague non-theistic pantheism. His repeated claim that 'we don't know what we're inside of', marks him out as a panentheist, one who sees God in all, rather than God as all. God, in his view, is not a synonym for the material universe, limited to time and space, but the mystery of the eternal Source of everything that is.

Poacher's Pilgrimage is an amusing book, in places downright funny. This is an author who can laugh at himself and is not afraid to expose his vulnerabilities. His larger than life personality shapes his prose style - rumbustious, thoughtful, inventive, poetic - and companionable. What's more, he is an excellent raconteur. This is what makes Poacher's Pilgrimage the perfect reading for a commute or holiday. It deals with serious issues but is one of those books which make it quite impossible to suppress the occasional capricious jolt of laughter. Be prepared for some strange looks from your fellow passengers!

The book ends, appropriately, with the image of the blue mountain hare, 'crouched, vigilant, amongst the rocks of Roineabhal , ancient, wild, eyes full of love' - Roineabhal, the beautiful blue mountain that McIntosh and his fellow spiritual activists saved from the depredations of the corporate giant Lafarge, 'the biggest cement and roadstone company in the world'. It speaks volumes for his approach that following their defeat, Lafarge brought him onto their Sustainability Stakeholder Panel to help them understand how they could 'shift their business model towards 'sustainable construction solutions', cutting carbon emissions per ton of cement by a third, and becoming the first major extractive corporation to recognise the UN Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples'.

Proof, if any were needed, that spiritual activism works!

Derek Guiton

The Enchanted World

Most human beings who have ever lived have experienced an enchanted world. In every society on earth until recent times, people have lived in a world inhabited by non-human presences, powers and spirits. Every land has its places of power, healing and spiritual danger; its sacred mountains, wells, trees, stones and rivers. Spirits, animals, plants and natural phenomena spoke to humans in dreams and signs, watched them, protected or threatened them, and could be asked for blessings or invoked against enemies.

This is what is known as an ‘enchanted world’, and it is a near-universal characteristic of all societies that have not been transformed by the culture of modernity. People in an enchanted world are vulnerable to powers, beings and forces that can infiltrate their lives, thoughts and bodies. The world is a place of spiritual threat, filled with powers that must be propitiated or entreated to ensure human survival. It is a world where collective ritual is essential for the safety and flourishing of the community. Everyone has to play their part to ensure that the gods and spirits are properly honoured, so conformity in religious practices tends to be strictly enforced.

The positive aspect of life in an enchanted world is that it is filled with places, times and occasions that are already charged with meaning and power. Human beings are held within a web of relationships that connects them intimately with each other and with every aspect of their environment; with their ancestors and the spirits of the land and other non-human beings. The characteristic modern afflictions of meaninglessness and alienation do not arise in an enchanted world. The meaning of human life is received from a powerful, pre-existing reality; a world already filled with its own radiant and mysterious purposes, to which human objectives are subordinate.

In western societies, a long historical process of religious reformation, scientific enquiry and industrialisation has steadily undermined this traditional perspective. In its place, modern societies have produced an experience of human selfhood that is sharply separated from the outside world. This process is often described in terms of humanity overcoming superstition, growing out of primitive fears and fantasies into a mature realisation of our uniqueness as meaning-creating beings. As distinct individuals, we are no longer subject to the threat of being invaded or caught up in malign spiritual forces. But we are also isolated and vulnerable in new ways. The isolated, self-contained modern sense of self can feel like imprisonment in an impersonal and indifferent universe. As the philosopher Charles Taylor describes this modern predicament (in A Secular Age), the separate, boundaried self “can also be lived as a limit, even a prison, making us blind or insensitive to whatever lies beyond this ordered human world and its instrumental-rational projects. The sense can easily arise that we are missing something, cut off from something, that we are living behind a screen.”

Thankfully, even within a thoroughly disenchanted culture that denies the existence of spiritual powers and forces, very many people have intimations of a deeper, more mysterious reality within and around them. Meaningful dreams, visions and insights from a power beyond ourselves are still surprisingly common, even for people with no explicit spiritual beliefs. Ben Pink Dandelion describes one such encounter as a young ‘atheist/agnostic ex-anarchist’:

“I had an experience aboard a Greyhound bus in America that gave me a sense of being lifted up, held, and since then perpetually accompanied by what I call God, but which I know is ultimately a mystery that is not for me to know too closely.”
(Living the Quaker Way)

Some people who experience the breaking-in of spiritual reality find themselves led towards a religious community that still maintains some link with an enchanted perspective.

We need enchanted languages to make sense of the full range of human experience. This is not necessarily in the form of religious ‘beliefs’, but primarily a collection of images, stories and symbols that are adequate to honour our lived experience.

Ideas and images derived from many different religious and spiritual traditions may help us to articulate our glimpses of an enchanted world, and different symbols may be useful for expressing different kinds of experience. These may not fit neatly into a consistent theological system or completely agree with any religious scripture. It may be that we need to accept the limitations of our capacity to grasp the totality of the mystery of the world. What is most important is not to have a tidy, logically consistent intellectual theory, but that we have words and images to represent to ourselves and others the reality of our lives, including all the aspects of experience that are excluded from a disenchanted world.

Have you experienced the world as 'enchanted'? What language or images help you to make sense of this reality?

Life in Community

As part of the work of the new Book of Discipline Revision Committee, we have been exploring the nature of a Quaker community, and what distinguishes it from a social club, political movement or meditation group.

The crucial insight for me is that a purely secular association is based on members' preferences. People may come together on the basis of shared purposes or interests, but it is their individual choices that are primary, and that define the basis of their membership.

There are many organisations, such as sports clubs, charities, political parties and trades unions, where members make generous commitments, and sometimes substantial sacrifices, for the causes that motivate them. The implicit understanding though, is that individuals opt in to these organisations on the basis of their pre-existing interests or values, and remain involved only to the extent that the group continues to serve or promote these preferences. In practice, of course, long-term involvement in any group also tends to form ties of loyalty and belonging which may go beyond the original motivations of their members. According to a purely secular understanding, however, these bonds are quite incidental to the explicit aims of the organisation.

By contrast, a Quaker community is (at least potentially) not just a collection of individuals with overlapping interests, but a 'people'. It is not grounded solely in the preferences of its members, just as the minute of a Quaker business meeting is not just the sum of individual opinions. Instead, people are led to participate in a Quaker community by the action of the Spirit, which may guide them in ways that remain quite obscure to their conscious intentions. A Friend in our Meeting once described to me how she had felt drawn to start attending a Quaker Meeting despite knowing very little about the Quaker way. This was not a matter of looking for a group through which she could pursue her existing interests, but being led by an inner dynamic that was drawing her towards new motives and a deeper encounter with life.

In reality, this Seed of Life is at work in many places in the world where it is not explicitly acknowledged. The Inward Guide is present to everyone, gently nudging them in directions that will enable their flourishing, or wrestling with their resistances and refusal of the Light. Many people are drawn into secular social movements, charities, political action or community groups by the action of this Spirit, drawing them towards opportunities for a more abundant and generous life.

The difference for a community that recognises the activity and guidance of God within each person, is that we can acknowledge this as the basis of our life together. Members of a Quaker community are not just individuals with similar social backgrounds, interests or values. A meeting community is formed by our common response to the same Spirit and Guide that is at work within each of us, however variously it is understood and described. It is our mutual recognition of this shared response that draws us together into community, even with people we might not otherwise choose and with whom we may have little else in common.

It is because we are responding to the same Inward Guide that we come to belong to each other, and to recognise our mutual responsibility and interdependence. We need each other to help us to be faithful to the Seed of Life within, and to practise the disciplines of worship, discernment and testimony that enable that Life to flourish in us and through us.

A community that is grounded in this mutual recognition and shared practice does not have to rely on being socially similar, or having the same opinions or attitudes. Becoming a Quaker does not depend on having the 'right' views or fitting in with a socially homogeneous group. We can find ourselves drawn to a Quaker meeting despite broad differences of background, experience and perspective, and expect both to enrich the discernment of the community through our differences, and also to be continually challenged and transformed ourselves.

Instead of expecting a Quaker community simply to serve or reflect whatever intentions we bring to it, we come in response to an inward call to go beyond our current motivations. Through the practice of the Quaker way together, we can expect our views to be enlarged, our resistances dissolved, our inward wounds healed, and even our desires transformed, so that we grow into "new thoughts, new desires, new affections, new love, new friendship, new society, new kindred, new faith; and new hope, even that living hope that is founded upon true experience..."
(William Penn, 1677, Christian faith & practice 37).

What is your experience of Quaker community?

Suffering is not a mistake

Photo: Alan Paxton

The religious path is often presented as a way to achieve inner peace and happiness, and to avoid suffering. Much popular spirituality claims that life is meant to be filled with peace and contentment; that pain and anguish are problems that can be overcome by the right attitude or technique. The promise of perfect contentment is seductive, but it can never be fulfilled, because it is based on the illusion that suffering is a mistake. 

Suffering, ageing, sickness and loss are not regrettable failures to realise our true nature. They are inherent in the nature of embodied human life and our often-incompatible needs and desires. Any spirituality, therapy or ideology that promises an escape from these limitations neglects the truth that suffering is an essential dimension of human life. Growth in spiritual maturity does not mean escaping or transcending these experiences, but becoming more able to accept and learn from them; to receive the painful gifts that they have to offer.

The Quaker way, with its emphasis on the Inward Light, is sometimes mistaken for one of these otherworldly spiritualities. But Quaker experience includes a far more realistic appreciation of the role of suffering in human life. In modern culture it is generally taken for granted that the aim of life is ‘happiness’ (understood as a positive mood or pleasant emotional states) and that our choices should be based on deciding what will bring the most happiness and the least suffering. This is in stark contrast to the actions of those Quakers throughout history who have deliberately chosen persecution, impoverishment, and costly and dangerous commitments in response to the leadings of the Inward Guide. If their goal was happiness, Quakers would never have stood up to governments and oppressive church institutions to demand religious freedom. They would not have gone to prison for conscientious objection to conscription, or like the US Quaker Tom Fox, been murdered working for peace in Iraq. For the Quaker way, it is not happiness or freedom from suffering that is the goal of life, but faithfulness to the life of the Spirit within, whatever it brings. 

Why should anyone choose to follow such a path, if it does not promise to give us happiness or spare us pain? Perhaps one answer is that there is a deeper need; for a life that is charged with meaning through relationship with the Inward Guide. Happiness cannot provide a meaning for life, because it depends on finding a meaning in something else. Pleasure, comfort and luxury rapidly give way to boredom and restlessness. Our deepest need is for a sense of the meaningfulness of our life. We can tolerate endless hardships and frustrations in enthusiastic service of a goal which is full of meaning for us. Without meaning, all our pleasures turn to ashes, and no rewards are sufficient to motivate us to action. 

Quakers and others have been willing to endure persecution and hardship in the service of the Inward Guide, because its leadings have been charged with meaning and purpose. The guidance of the Spirit has illuminated their lives with profound significance that made sacrifices worthwhile and brought the possibility of joy in the midst of suffering. The Quaker philosopher John Macmurray has described this understanding of the religious path:

“When religion is real, it throws the centre of our interest and our action right outside ourselves. It is not about myself at all, or only incidentally and for a purpose that is not my own. It is about the world I live in and the part that I must play in it. It is not to serve my need but the need of the world through me. Real religion is not something that you possess but rather a power that lays hold of you and uses you in service of a will that is greater than your own.”
(Macmurray ‘Search for a Faith’)

This is an extract from my new book 'The Guided Life', which is available now from the Quaker Bookshop.

The Guided Life

My new book, The Guided Life, isn't officially launched until November, but it is already available to buy from the Quaker Bookshop. The book tries to describe what I see as the central practices of the Quaker way and the role they have played in my own life, as well as in the lives of some other Friends throughout our history.

It is not so much another 'introduction to Quakers for newcomers', as an exploration of how traditional Quaker spiritual practices might be useful to anyone who is struggling with the challenges and dilemmas of modern life. The common modern experiences of constant change, mobility and insecurity can present deep challenges for many of us who are searching for a meaningful path through life. The Quaker approaches to discernment, worship and communal organisation that are described here can perhaps offer some helpful insights to anyone who is looking for a deeper experience of their life's purpose.

Rex Ambler has written this review of The Guided Life:

"This book will appeal to people who want a better understanding of the Quaker way. They might have heard what Quakers stand for, what sort of things they do – much has been said and written about these things. This book explores the experience behind all that. It shows how the practice of 'waiting in the light,' for example, can gives us an insight into our life that enables us to see how better to live it. The practice does this by putting us in touch with a source of wisdom within us that we are not normally aware of, because we rely too much on words and talk, on our own attempts to work things out for ourselves. The Quaker way is a matter of allowing ourselves to be 'guided'.
'The guided life', it must be said, is not a life that will appeal to many moderns. They want to guide life themselves. But Craig Barnett shows in this thoughtful analysis that taking control of one's life in this way, though helpful up to a point, eventually limits it and frustrates it. His many examples from contemporary experience, his own as well as others', will resonate with many people and help them see the point of the spiritual practice he recommends.
This is surely one of the best descriptions of the Quaker way of life we have. It explains so clearly the human experience on which it is based, the practical exercises we can undertake to follow it, and the outcome of following it in a wholesome, joyful life that is shared with other people."
(The Guided Life - an appreciation, Rex Ambler)

Speaking our Truth Part 2

This is the second and final part of Rex Ambler's talk to Lancashire Area Meeting in February 2019 on the theme of 'God, Words and Us'.

In the first part of his talk, Rex described the current difficulty facing British Quakers - "And yet we do not unite, as yet, on the most fundamental thing. What do we believe in or trust as Quakers? Do we trust ourselves or the great Other than ourselves? What is our truth? And how can we speak our Quaker truth to the world?"

How we are handling the difficulty

The way we are handling it at the moment could be described as a policy of toleration. That is, we agree to disagree. It is implied in that concluding section of the book God, Words and Us which says,

We agree that the Society of Friends is a community centred on the practice of waiting, listening meeting for worship, We agree that differences of understanding about what it is we listen to or worship do not prevent us from practising meeting for worship together. (p.79)

That is a fair summary of where we got to in the Theology Thinktank and it marks the important realisation that, for all our differences, we Quakers were able to unite on our distinctive practice.

Have we then resolved the issue in this way? Can we retain our unity and mission by agreeing on the practice and allowing a great variety of interpretations of the practice? A similar question arises from our final minute and epistle at last Yearly Meeting, in 2018.

Quakers in Britain are diverse in matters of belief and the language we use to describe them and that is to be celebrated. We also experience in our meetings unity and oneness in the depths of our worship together. We should be true to our own beliefs, and listen deeply to other people's experiences, as well as their words. We remember that sometimes ambiguity, and archaic phrases from former times, enable Quakers to search for the meaning for themselves and interpret it as they are led. Who are we, and who do we aspire to be? Can we also offer each other support by sharing honestly our real lived lives, including the parts we are not so proud of?

Toleration of diversity in this sense seems vital to the liberal culture we want to encourage among Friends and in society at large. Some Friends are even urging that toleration of different views is part of the meaning of Quakerism itself. It is part of what is meant by our commitment to equality and unconditional love. But we can see on reflection that this cannot be right. We do not tolerate practices that undermine our discipline or bring the Society into disrepute. We do not tolerate violent or abusive practices, or understandings of life which encourage these things. We are committed as Quakers to a certain understanding of life and how it is to be lived, which is why we have the practices we have. In particular, we have testimonies against war, oppression, poverty, untruthfulness and formal doctrine. We cannot really separate what we do as Quakers from the understanding that undergirds it and the understanding we want to convey to others by doing it. Our commitment is, and always has been, primarily to truth, that is, truth as we experience it and bear witness to it. Our understanding of the truth changes over time, of course, as the realities change. The above minute 31 also says, quoting our current Book of Discipline approvingly,

We are seeking but we are also the holders of a precious heritage of discoveries. We, like every generation, must find the Light and Life again for ourselves. Only what we have valued and truly made our own, not by assertion but by lives of faithful commitment, can be handed on to the future. Even then, we must humbly acknowledge that our vision of the truth will again and again be amended.

That is one reason we cannot fix it in a doctrine. And that is one reason that we have a Book of Discipline and revise it every generation or so. Here is our written testimony to the truth of our situation as it now is and as we now see it.

If on the other hand we allow or encourage quite different understandings we will get into serious difficulty. We will not be able to share our experience of unity in words. We will not be able to express our understanding of things in public for fear of upsetting others who might not agree with us or accept our language. Without a common language and understanding we will not be able to acknowledge and resolve those important differences that remain and have to be dealt with. Sooner or later differences both great and small will be swept under the carpet. Communication is therefore stifled and the life of the meeting is atrophied. We are are also then unable to tell others outside the meeting what the Quakers stand for, why we do the strange things we do in meeting for worship, or for business, or to protest publicly against some evil in the world. And finally, we cannot speak as a body of Friends nationally, either to respond to crises emerging or to communicate with other religious bodies to engage in dialogue. In these circumstances the Society of Friends begins to lose its voice, its basis for unity and its very identity. Under these conditions it surely cannot survive very long.

So the attempt to resolve our difficulty about language by adopting a liberal policy of toleration will not help very much. It is helpful in politics, of course, and necessary, when there are conflicts in beliefs and ideas which cannot be resolved, so long as there is a modicum of respect for the law and the democratic process. But it does not help a faith community where disagreements on the faith itself need to be resolved. A policy of toleration may indeed make matters worse.

How we might get out of the difficulty
This impasse, however, might itself help us to find a way through. This conflict is about words, language, beliefs, things that can be written down on a piece of paper. Put this way, it reminds us that Quaker faith is not based on these things, on ideas or 'notions,' but on experience - specifically our experience of the realities that concern us most.

This was a discovery of the Thinktank. If we have a puzzling variety of beliefs and ideas, we realized, we must recognize that they are at best interpretations of our experience. So if the variety is troubling in some way we should return to the experiences from which these beliefs arose and check them out. And let us hear from one another how our different ways of thinking or speaking arose. The last thing we must do is to fix those interpretations and polarize them into opposite camps. We must rather look carefully at the variety we have and come to understand what it means and how it has arisen. This way we can see our differences more clearly, honestly and positively. One good image that emerged from the consultation was Rachel Muers' 'caravan in the desert'. It was summarised in the conclusion of the book (God, Words and Us, p.79)

We have used the image of a caravan travelling together through the desert – some in the centre, carrying luggage and supplies; others scouting the way or exploring nearby routes; all visibly travelling as part of the same body.

It gave expression to the experience we had in the group when we had listened carefully and patiently to what everyone had said, appreciated the experience and thought out of which it came, and were then able to discern the underlying unity in our experience. We knew, not theoretically but experientially, that we were 'travelling as part of the same body.'

This reminded us of what often happens in a business meeting (as in Quaker Faith and Practice 3:01-07). The important truth we need to know is beyond what we might each initially have thought. When we have a difficult decision to make, we discipline ourselves to listen to what everyone has to say, without passing judgement. What we are looking for is not the best opinion or the winning argument, but the truth that we can all discern to be right, but which needs all of us to get there. I have reflected much on this since, because it indicates to me how we can get through the difficulty of our clashing beliefs. We don't normally apply our business method to such profound matters as our basis for living, but this is surely a time to do so, or at least an opportunity to see if we could do so. Let me quote from the Book of Discipline at some length, and I think you will recognize how relevant it is to the matter we are discussing here.

The right conduct of our meetings for church affairs depends upon all coming to them in an active, seeking spirit, not with minds already made up on a particular course of action, determined to push this through at all costs. But open minds are not empty minds, nor uncritically receptive: the service of the meeting calls for knowledge of facts, often painstakingly acquired, and the ability to estimate their relevance and importance. This demands that we shall be ready to listen to others carefully, without antagonism if they express opinions which are unpleasing to us, but trying always to discern the truth in what they have to offer. It calls, above all, for spiritual sensitivity. If our meetings fail, the failure may well be in those who are ill-prepared to use the method rather than in the inadequacy of the method itself.

It is always to be recognized that, coming together with a variety of temperaments, of backgrounds, education and experience, we shall have differing contributions to make to any deliberation. It is no part of Friends' concern for truth that any should be expected to water down a strong conviction or be silent merely for the sake of easy agreement. Nevertheless we are called to honour our testimony that to every one is given a measure of the light, and that it is in the sharing of knowledge, experience and concern that the way towards unity will be found....
The unity we seek depends on the willingness of us all to seek the truth in each other's utterances; on our being open to persuasion; and in the last resort on a willingness to recognize and accept the sense of the meeting as recorded in the minute, knowing that our dissenting views have been heard and considered....
In a meeting rightly held a new way may be discovered which none present had alone perceived and which transcends the differences of the opinions expressed. This is an experience of creative insight, leading to a sense of the meeting which a clerk is often led in as remarkable way to record. Those who have shared this experience will not doubt its reality and the certainty it brings of the immediate rightness of the way for the meeting to take. 

(Quaker Faith and Practice, 3.05-06.)

You notice that what a meeting is primarily concerned about, even in its discussion of practical affairs, is finding the truth of the situation they are concerned about. It is not about finding a course of action they can all agree on, or a compromise between different views, and certainly not a majority opinion. It is simply and bravely about the actual truth of the matter. And that truth might take us beyond what any of us might have previously thought. But when we see it, we know it's right and that we can commit to it.

When we come to the profounder matters of our faith and life as Quakers it might not be so easy to practise this discipline. How, for example, do we let go our individual viewpoints? We have a lot invested in them. So we will have to be more restrained and patient, and rely more on our practice of silent waiting and listening. We will have to become more aware, not only of our present beliefs and attitudes, but also of the experience of life that led us to them, perhaps over many years. This personal learning may then make us more ready and able to listen to the different ideas and experiences of others until we really do understand where we all come from. This discipline may be tough and challenging, but it surely bears fruit.

We found this in the Thinktank. When we talked about Meeting for Worship, for example, it sounded at first as if we were describing different experiences. Some understood they were worshipping God, others said they had no idea of God at all and were merely exploring the issues of their life. With more sharing, however, it became clear that they were not so far apart. Those who 'worshipped God' did not in fact have an idea of God in their minds; they were rather opening themselves to the reality beyond themselves which they dimly sensed to be the source of their life and made some sort of claim on them. Those who 'merely' explored the issues of their life said they were also, in a way, opening themselves to life itself, something ultimately mysterious and beyond their grasp. They didn't want to call it 'God', because that word indicated for them the idea of a being outside the world who somehow controlled it – that is, the idea of theism. But those who did want to describe it as God made it clear they had no such idea in mind. They used the word God to point to something which they could not understand but somehow nevertheless 'sensed' or 'felt', and wanted to acknowledge. In the group I was in I could sense this extraordinary coming together, which didn't mean that we now said the same thing about this ultimate reality, but that we recognized the genuineness of our different experiences – firstly – but also - secondly – the unity in our actual experience of worship.

Could we then describe this unity? Yes, but not in terms of the object of worship as something 'out there' or even as the source of it as something 'in here', like Spirit. We could express it by describing the experience itself, which in some way took us outside ourselves. This has something to do with the practice of silent waiting, which enables us to let go of our everyday concerns and become more aware of the world around us, the greater life that makes our life possible, that nurtures us but also demands a generous response from us. We even agreed that what we most valued in worship was the sense of belonging to this greater whole, the sense of awe at what was ultimately beyond our grasp, but which we could nevertheless trust and love. When I heard us saying this I felt there was nothing more that needed to be said, and very little more that could be said. We had touched the sacred, not least in one another, and our task was now to live in the light of it.

My conclusion from this experience and my reflection on it since is that we have the answers to the problem already in our Quaker way. We only need the courage to pursue it. Let me try to summarize that distinctive way of ours as it affects the way we speak our truth:

1. We do not put our trust in words about God that have been passed down to us from others, as in traditional Christianity. Nor on the other hand in words we ourselves have thought up to describe the world objectively and rationally. We finally let go of all words and open ourselves inwardly in silence to the reality of life as it presents itself to us. We discover that this reality is so elusive, though, as we open ourselves to it, that, however real we find it to be, we cannot form an idea of it or get a mental grip on it.

2. So the question is how we can speak our truth. We cannot describe it literally. It is not a factual truth about the world out there. It is not in this respect like science. So it is not only doubtful to speak about God as a being out there somewhere; it is a betrayal of our faith and vision. To be faithful to the truth we have discerned in silent waiting we need to speak in such a way as to express the insight that has come to us out of our experience of life and to evoke that awareness in others. We use stories, for example, poetry, advice, proverbs. Above all, we will speak from our personal experience. And for that reason we will all speak differently, even while speaking of a similar experience, because we ourselves are different. But these different testimonies to experience will enrich and enlarge us, if we recognise where they come from and and what it is in us that they resonate with Our own testimony will then become fuller and more inclusive.

3. To understand things more fully and deeply, we listen to one another with an open heart, not judging or criticising, and we look for the truth that we can all recognize and embrace. And the language that emerges as we talk openly with one another will be the language we can effectually use to communicate our truth to others in the world out there. We do not have to create this language with our own mental effort or imagination, or take it from some document we regard as authoritative. It is given to us in the conversation we have together about our experience – often in dialogue with friends past and present who have similar insights.

4. If we speak from our common and shared experience as a Society of Friends we will speak with one voice about the truth as we now discern it together. 

Bibliography
Helen Rowlands, ed., God, Words and Us, Quaker Books, 2017.
Britain Yearly Meeting, Quaker Faith and Practice, Quaker Books, 1995.
Craig Barnett, Quaker Renewal, The Friend Publications, 2017.
Rhiannon Grant, Telling the Truth about God, Quaker Quicks, The Christian Alternative, 2019.
Rex Ambler, The Quaker Way, The Christian Alternative, 2013, especially chapter 2 on 'Looking for God.'
Rex Ambler, Resolving Difference – in our ways of speaking about God or the ultimate reality, Quaker Universalist Group Pamphlets, 2016.