When I joined the
Religious Society of Friends eleven years ago, what I found most moving was
the sense of becoming part of an extended family of Quakers past and
present. It is a family which contains some wonderful ancestors and
fascinating far-flung cousins, as well as a full share of rather
peculiar aunts and uncles. By becoming a Quaker, I felt that I was
being accepted into the shared history and inner life of this
world-wide, centuries-old Quaker family. I was no longer just an
individual seeker on a solitary spiritual journey, but part of a
'people', with its own shared stories and culture; sometimes baffling
or infuriating, but now also part of my story too.
Most of us in modern,
western societies have been taught to value above all else the
virtues of freedom, privacy, independence, self-reliance and
individuality. In fact, our culture has formed us in the image of the
restless, dynamic capitalism memorably described by Karl Marx:
“Constant
revolutionising of production, uninterrupted disturbance of all
social conditions, everlasting uncertainty and agitation distinguish
the bourgeois epoch from all earlier ones. All fixed, fast-frozen
relations, with their train of ancient and venerable prejudices and
opinions, are swept away, all new-formed ones become antiquated
before they can ossify. All that is solid melts into air, all that is
holy is profaned, and man is at last compelled to face with sober
senses his real conditions of life, and his relations with his kind.”
(Manifesto of the
Communist Party, 1848)
The prospect of
complete freedom from all 'fixed, fast-frozen relations' can be
exhilarating, and it has exercised a powerful attraction for the
modern imagination; but for many of us there comes a time when the
absence of social rootedness leaves us feeling isolated, anxious and
depressed. In severe cases this condition contributes to the current
epidemic of anxiety and depression in western societies, but it is
even more commonly experienced as a pervasive sense of emptiness and
meaninglessness. These appear to be symptomatic of our collective
uprootedness and isolation; the starvation of our soul-needs for
connection, identity, meaning, value and purpose.
In more traditional
societies, that have been less uprooted by the forces of modernity,
this condition of drastic solitude is virtually unknown. In rural
Africa or Asia, you know who you are through your kinship relations
and the shared stories, ancestors and religion of your people; as
expressed in the African proverb 'a person is a person through other
people.' People are born into a pre-existing sea of meaning, a vast
network of relationships and mutual obligations within a specific
culture and social identity. This is not a romanticised portrait of
imaginary 'unspoilt' cultures. I have lived in a South African shanty
town and a semi-rural community in Zimbabwe, where I saw at first
hand the stark age, gender and tribal discrimination of traditional
African culture. Traditional societies are often oppressive and
violent, but they are not haunted by meaninglessness and isolation.
People know who they are, and what the the purpose and meaning of
their life is, because they are part of a people, which gives them a
place in a wider story, embedded in relationships with a multitude of
others in the past, present and future. This is the way that all
people throughout human history have lived until very recently. The
very evident advantages of industrial societies that have attracted
people throughout the world into cities and away from the limitations
of traditional rural life, like most modern remedies, also have their
inevitable side-effects.
Wherever traditional
people have been dispossessed of their land, culture and social bonds
they have been devastated by suicide, crime, mental illness and
addiction. As modern Europeans this is our story too; it happened in
England first, at the start of the industrial era, before
encompassing almost every nation on earth. It is the traumatic
experience of industrialisation and urbanisation, and the continuing
neoliberal assault on all social bonds, that has created the lonely,
anxious, rootless and insecure modern psyche.
The unmet human soul
needs for meaning, belonging and purpose have never gone away.
Instead they provide a powerful source of motivation within a
consumer economy. These needs are targeted by the entertainment and
marketing industries, which offer to fulfil deep human needs for
connection, status, identity, transcendence and security through the
purchase of clothes, technology, holidays and
insurance. These commodified experiences and products hook into soul
needs that they can never satisfy, creating a cycle of addiction that
is the perfect mechanism to drive the endless growth required by a
capitalist economy. Consumerism is the hollow, ersatz spirituality of
the industrial growth society.
We cannot overcome the
hollow meaninglessness of modern society on our own. The solitary
existential heroes of Sartre or Ayn Rand prove to be immature
fantasies when tested by the reality of our vulnerable human lives.
Our deeply rooted needs for meaning and belonging can only be
satisfied by the same means that every other human culture has
provided; through becoming part of a people. Modern westerners and
other deracinated people throughout the world can do this in several
ways, but it often involves identification with a religious or ethnic
group. It is this impulse to overcome the rootless isolation of
modern life that seems to be contributing to the resurgence of
religious identity across the world, what John Michael Greer calls
'the second religiosity'. This new religiosity often takes
fundamentalist forms, but it is not necessary for religious belonging
to be authoritarian or dogmatic. In the Quaker tradition, it takes
the form of what early Friends called 'a gathered people'.
A gathered people is
not just an association of individuals who happen to share
overlapping values or interests. It is formed by the raising and
quickening of a new spiritual life and power within each person.
Recognising this same Spirit at work in each other draws us into a
bond of mutual belonging and commitment – a 'covenant', as
described by the early Quaker Francis Howgill in this famous passage:
“And from that day
forward, our hearts were knit unto the Lord and one unto another in
true and fervent love, in the covenant of Life with God; and that was
a strong obligation or bond upon all our spirits, which united us one
unto another. We met together in the unity of the Spirit, and of the
bond of peace, treading down under our feet all reasoning about
religion. And holy resolutions were kindled in our hearts as a fire
which the Life kindled in us to serve the Lord while we had a being,
and mightily did the Word of God grow amongst us, and the desires of
many were after the Name of the Lord. O happy day! O blessed day! the
memorial of which can never pass out of my mind. And thus the Lord,
in short, did form us to be a people for his praise in our
generation.”
(Quaker faith &
practice, 19.08)
When we recognise the
life of the Spirit being kindled in another person, it calls forth an
answering response in us; this is what early Friends meant by
'answering that of God' in others. A gathered people does not
necessarily take the shape of a church, or any kind of formal
organisation. It is a belonging to one another through shared
hardship, commitment, mutual support, affection, obligation and
forgiveness. My family experienced this most powerfully when we were
living in Zimbabwe, through the faithful support of many members of
our meeting in Sheffield through some very difficult times. Even Friends from our large Meeting who knew us very slightly wrote letters and sent parcels
of gifts and books, and gave money to support us when we had to turn to them for help.
As modern Quakers, how
can we recover this experience of being a gathered people? It means
recognising that we are not isolated individuals on our own spiritual
journeys, or just members of a particular local Quaker community, but
also part of a living current of spiritual awakening that links us to
Friends in the past and future throughout the world.
Do you have a sense of being part of a gathered people? How have you experienced this in your journey with Quakers?
Do you have a sense of being part of a gathered people? How have you experienced this in your journey with Quakers?
This essay offers much to think about. My impression is that many Friends meetings with a transitory membership provide a rather superficial experience of community. An unprogrammed meeting for worship can be a way of avoiding a deep encounter with God and with one another.
ReplyDeleteIn order for "community" to be genuine in a typical unprogrammed meeting, ways must be found, and worked at, to get beyond a one hour a week formal worship experience.
Have the participants visited each other's homes? Have they broken bread together? Have they found opportunities to work together? Have they shared their spiritual journeys with each other on a level not easily done in a regular meeting for worship? Have they found ways to "bear one another's burdens and so fulfill the law of Christ?" Galatians 2:6
Thanks for this Craig. I used part of this post with a group of Mid-Essex Quakers. They found it refreshingly challenging!
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