by Geoffrey Durham
This text was given as prepared ministry at Britain Yearly Meeting, a gathering of Quakers, in 05/2012.
My name is Geoffrey Durham and I am a member of North West London Area Meeting. I am a Quaker. And the purpose of this session is to explore that phrase in depth. â€˜Iâ€™m a Quakerâ€™. What does â€˜Iâ€™m a Quakerâ€™ mean today?
It is a topic that covers the whole of our religious society. It is about spiritual journeys, testimony, membership, openness, belief â€“ and the ways in which they connect. We are asked to consider personal faith and diversity; to speak of our discernment around religious difference; to share our deepest convictions. And to return to our local meetings and continue the exploration there: what makes us Quaker?
It is important to speak from experience, but I am going to start by briefly relating some episodes in the life of a Quaker community â€“ imaginary, yet replicated often in my meeting, and perhaps in yours, too.
An enquirer arrives, letâ€™s call her Mary. She is made welcome, she reads the leaflet about Your First Time in a Quaker Meeting, she finds the stillness of our worship to be moving, perhaps inspirational. She is fairly sure that she is in the right place and she comes back for a second meeting and a third. By the time she is in her sixth consecutive week of worshipping with Quakers, local Friends have become delighted by her presence and confident that she knows herself to be a valued member of their community. She misses week seven, but a couple of weeks later, she is back. This time, though, she slips away before the notices, because â€“ you know whatâ€™s coming next â€“ it has been Maryâ€™s last visit and she is never seen again.
Now, if you donâ€™t recognise that scenario, I suspect you may be one of the lucky ones, because it does happen throughout our Yearly Meeting with mournful regularity. Local Friends try to find out what is going on, but both parties are embarrassed, no one wants to upset the other and the story ends there, in a kind of nebulous limbo, with the local meeting hoping fervently that Mary has found spiritual fulfilment elsewhere. Now, my job here is to introduce a topic, not to rattle off snap answers. But I am going to ask one question and venture a reply to it, just as a starting point. Why did Mary decide not to stay? Well, one possible reason was that she never discovered what it means to be a Quaker today. Perhaps she never found out how to join the dots.
It is understandable. There is a lot to grasp before those dots can make a picture. And Quakerism has changed during the last thirty years and it continues to change. If it didnâ€™t, it wouldnâ€™t be Quakerism. So, presenting our faith to outsiders requires â€“ from both halves of the conversation â€“ patience, good will, the ability to listen. And that can be a challenge, because people like to get straight to the point. Tell me what Quakerism is. What do you believe? Just put it in a nutshell. And it is essential to know what you are going to say. I sometimes start by telling these questioners as gently as I can that if you can put your religious faith into a nutshell, thatâ€™s possibly where it belongs.
And since Quakers donâ€™t live in a religious nutshell, since we all know with clarity and conviction that there isnâ€™t a spiritual formula, it is a good idea to take stock every so often, to look at what we have and to see who we are. One reason that we need to do it, of course, is that we are talking about Quakerism to newcomers, but it extends much further and far deeper than that. To function, we must know ourselves as a body. Every Quaker in the world, no exceptions, has experienced the truth behind a famous saying of Socrates: â€˜the unexamined life is not worth livingâ€™. If it is like that for us as individuals, it follows that it must also be true for us corporately as a religious society. So, I am grateful that this topic is on the agenda today.
Here are some of the fragments making up the Quaker mosaic that, it seems to me, we might want to examine in this session. And there is quite a number of them. I begin, of course, with the meeting for worship and the meaning and purpose that I and many other Quakers of my acquaintance find there. Without the right holding of meeting for worship, what it means to be a Quaker today becomes thin and insubstantial. Without the right holding of meeting for worship, Quakers become a pressure group.Â Worship remains, as it always has been, at the centre of our lives. People speak of Quaker silence, of silent meetings, but we make a mistake, I think, if we talk too long or too often about our lack of noise. The right holding of meeting for worship encourages stillness out of the silence, and it is Quaker stillness that can engender radical change.
But there are more elements to Quakerism than the meeting for worship â€“ this isnâ€™t one-day-a-week religion. Quakers believe â€“ all of us â€“ that the whole of life is sacramental. There is no difference between the sacred and the secular. We work for peace, for sustainability, for economic justice. And we accept that our concerns are often profoundly counter-cultural â€“ you canâ€™t seriously believe in truth and equality, you canâ€™t make them the essence of every decision, without upsetting a status quo.
Yet, for the same reasons, we are tolerant of religious beliefs we may not share and we learn from them. We do not fear uncertainty. We welcome people of all faiths and backgrounds â€“ we are Christian, Buddhist, Hindu, theist, nontheist, and we find that of God in everyone. We acknowledge that the valiant Quakers of the 1650s would not recognise this religious society at all, but we hope they would understand how we got here, because we know that they, too, were open to new light. We welcome change. Indeed, we demand it. Above all, we know that what we do matters more, far more, than what we say. And, heaven knows, we say a lot.
It can be hard to keep all this in focus.
So, as we get this session under way, I want to suggest that we might look at a familiar non-sequitur. Quakers have no creed: it follows, therefore, doesnâ€™t it, that Quakers can believe what they like. Well, no, I donâ€™t think it does. We call this (Quaker Faith & Practice) our book of discipline. Now, I find â€˜disciplineâ€™ a forbidding word and I wish there were an alternative, but its meaning is clear to me; and without discipline, as far as Iâ€™m concerned, there would be no Quakerism. Look for the word in the index and you will find that it comes up just twice. That is because the whole of this book is about Quaker discipline. The chapter headings are telling: caring for one another, faithful lives, worship, prayer, unity, diversity. This isnâ€™t a rule book, but it does do a lot of insisting. It insists that I, as a Quaker, live faithfully, that I listen for the promptings of love and truth in my heart and treat them as the leadings of God. So, no, I donâ€™t believe what I like. If I do what this book insists I do, if I allow myself to be pushed by the spirit, I believe what I must. If I didnâ€™t, this life of mine, this examined life of mine, would not be worth living. If I didnâ€™t, Iâ€™d fail my own examination.
If â€˜disciplineâ€™ is mentioned just twice in this index, another word essential to our corporate life isnâ€™t there at all. That is because, as with discipline, the entire book is concerned with little else. And what word is that? Love. It infuses this book like a perfume. â€˜Love was the first motion.â€™ â€˜Our life is love and peace and tendernessâ€™. And here it is again, nestling in the middle of Advice 28. â€˜Attend to what love requires of youâ€™. It doesnâ€™t say, â€˜Attend to the things you loveâ€™. It doesnâ€™t, heaven knows, say, â€˜Believe what you likeâ€™.
Years ago, when I first began going to Friendsâ€™ meetings, colleagues asked me what I was doing, consorting with these Quakers. And I said â€“ I remember this vividly, because it came from nowhere â€“ â€˜I think theyâ€™ve got a lot to teach me about being in the world.â€™ It took me a while to understand it, but when I first got the hang of this gentle, insistent phrase, â€˜Attend to what love requires of youâ€™ (because I skated over it a few times, I can tell you), when I first really absorbed the requirement in it, I found myself able to engage with people in ways that I had been too proud, too shy, or too diffident to do before.
I donâ€™t know about you, but I have had experiences in Quaker worship that have been electrifying. And they have almost always been the result of a realisation that, in that moment, meaning and purpose have become the same thing. At the time that I was talking to those colleagues, I thought I was going to Quaker meetings to understand myself better, to achieve religious insights for myself, to give myself meaning. I was looking for a sort of spiritual cushion. And I found it, I suppose, because I kept coming, but what I didnâ€™t know was that the cushion would turn out also, at exactly the same time, to be a springboard. It is a ridiculous image, I know, but it is true for me, because as a result of some unnameable spiritual process, what happens to me in worship is that I discover that the meaning Iâ€™ve been looking for is to be found in getting out of the meeting house and doing something with and for someone else. So meaning becomes purpose and purpose becomes meaning, and I canâ€™t tell the difference between the two, and it doesnâ€™t matter. Because what love requires of me is that I simply go where Iâ€™m pushed. We sometimes call it faith in action. I think of it as worship in action. This book (Quaker Faith & Practice 11.01) calls it divine guidance.
For the last ten years or so, I have been pushed into work that has involved me in opening up Quakerism to newcomers, in trying to make this religious society transparent and available to them. I love talking about our faith to enquirers, but it has been a sharp learning curve, and one thing I discovered early was that it is a big mistake to bend over backwards in an effort to make Quakerism suit everybody. We donâ€™t have to please people. We donâ€™t have to try to make them into members. It isnâ€™t our job. We just need to be patterns, to be examples. It is dangerous and ultimately untruthful, I think, to offer people a pick-and-mix, believe-anything, mish-mash. Iâ€™ve learnt not to be afraid of offending people with what I have to say about my faith. If I tell people clearly who Quakers are, who I am, what my experience is, and they say â€œWell, itâ€™s not for me,â€ then thatâ€™s fine. And Iâ€™m also wary of the converse of that: enthusiasm for Quakers based on something we are perceived not to believe. â€˜Iâ€™m attracted to you because you arenâ€™t all Christians.â€™ No, itâ€™s what we do that matters, not what we donâ€™t.
And it is concentrating on what we do, that helps people into membership. Do you remember me saying earlier that there are just two references to the word â€˜disciplineâ€™ in this book? Well, here they are: 11.01, â€˜Membership is a spiritual disciplineâ€™ and 11.10, membership is â€˜a commitment to the discipline of Friendsâ€™. That is pretty clear, and I had a sense of it at the time that I was contemplating applying, though I had never read those passages and certainly couldnâ€™t have put any of it into words. All I knew was that it felt like a big, disciplined step. I know some birthright Friends who find this curious, but it was a life-changer for me. Not so much a spiritual development as a God-given jolt. All the other shifts I had lived through were gradual meanderings â€“ an insight here, a determination there â€“ but this was a conscious desire to acquire a religious discipline. And it did change me. I said a moment ago that I had been electrified by the experience of Quaker worship and the revelations it brought. Well, membership of the Religious Society of Friends upped the voltage. I felt able to see who I was, and to be who I could be. There was all the difference in the world between this new membership I was experiencing and being an attender. And because I know that difference, I cherish it. I hope we donâ€™t forget it.
One particular area in which I felt the difference, to my slight surprise, was the meeting for worship for business. I had attended business meetings before and loved the Quaker business method, but as a member I began to understand what George Fox meant by â€˜standing still in the Lightâ€™. This, too, it suddenly struck me, was sacramental living. The outcomes â€“ we have seen this all around us over the last two or three days â€“ are spirit-led. They are achieved through stillness, through faithful waiting on God. And so the binding nature of our decisions becomes a religious matter. We trust them because we have become familiar with a deep, holy place from which they spring. And I hope that in this session â€“ and when we take its spirit home to our meetings â€“ we may be able to acknowledge that the way in which we conduct our business is an indelible part of what it means to be a Quaker today.
And for many, that word Quaker is enough. Â I have a sense that a large number donâ€™t find words like â€˜theistâ€™, â€˜Christianâ€™, â€˜Buddhistâ€™, â€˜universalistâ€™, â€˜nontheistâ€™ helpful in expressing their most deeply held convictions. My impression is that for many of us, adherence to credal labels of that kind may have fallen away a little, and the religious impulse may perhaps have become something we might call â€˜the Quaker pathâ€™ or â€˜living the Quaker lifeâ€™. This doesnâ€™t indicate to me, as Iâ€™ve heard it said, that Quaker beliefs have changed â€“ they have never been conveniently listed. What it may mean, if Iâ€™m right, is that the discipline of Quakerism has become more of a defining factor in the lives of some us than allegiance to a specifically Christian or other religious faith.
Speaking for myself, â€˜Quakerâ€™ is what I write in the box marked â€˜religionâ€™, when Iâ€™m filling in a form. And when I joined the Society, Quaker was what I hoped to become. I thought it was all I would ever be. So, I surprised myself a year ago when I found myself declaring in a little book I wrote that I am a Christian Quaker. It arrived on the page unheralded, like automatic writing. I read it again and again and again. I thought, â€˜Where did that come from? Is it true? Yes, I think it is. I think a Christian Quaker is what I have become.â€™
But in saying that, I am aware that calling myself a Christian doesnâ€™t tell the same story as your declaration might, or, heaven knows, that of George Fox, or James Nayler, or Isaac Penington. The Inward Light of Christ Within burned brightly for those early Friends in ways that I have not yet discovered. I appreciate the use of the word â€˜Christianâ€™ on the cover of this book (The Book of Christian Discipline of the Yearly Meeting of the Religious Society of Friends) â€“ and, as we know, it replaced another called Christian Faith and Practice â€“ but while I believe that Christianity is not a notion, while I believe firmly that it is a way, I also believe that no two Christians are remotely the same, particularly if they are Christians without a creed. Here is Isaac Penington in 1660: â€˜This is the true ground of love and unity, not that such a man walks and does just as I do, but because I feel the same Spirit and life in him, and that he walks in his rank, in his own order, in his proper way and place of subjection to that; and this is far more pleasing to me than if he walked just in that track wherein I walk.â€™
Beautiful words. Kind words. And in coming to the end of this introduction, I do need to say something that I donâ€™t think I have expressed in public before: I have never known such kindness as I have experienced in the Quaker community.Â Over two thousand years ago, Plato wrote, â€˜Be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a hard battle.â€™ If love is often the first motion, kindness is never far behind. And kindness and love are to be found, above all, in listening. Quakers listen. It is part of what it means to be a Quaker today.
And so, Friends, as this session gets under way, I hope we shall listen with love, with kindness and with creativity. We have time now to share our experience. There is much to consider, both here and in our meetings at home. It is our task to discover and embrace the reality of the worshipping community that we are, and to discern the religious society that we may become.
Visit http://www.quaker.org.uk/sites/default/files/What-it-means-to-be-a-Quaker-today_0.mp3Â to listen to Geoffrey giving this introduction.