A huge tip of the hat goes to my first guest blogger, Kevin B. I ran into Kevin at a high school reunion recently, and after noticing a Quaker bumper sticker on his car, I grew very nosy indeed (having attended a Quaker service in college myself). I proceeded to email Kevin
a pile of questions, which he answered with a maximum of grace and thoughtfulness. I present
to you, with heartfelt thanks to Kevin, the results of that email exchange.
You mentioned you first came in contact
with the Society of Friends in college. Are you willing to describe the
experience? What was it that piqued your interest?
In
college, I was immersed in the relativism that was popular among college youth
of the day – eg. things like feminist and Marxist interpretations of American
history. (It still may be, for all I know). But when I took a
course in American intellectual history, I was struck by how the Quakers seemed
to figure out the “right” answer to things a generation before others.
The acknowledged the sin of slavery in the 1700s, treated women as equals in
the 1600s, and provided the nourishing ground for many early suffragists and
abolitionists. So I got curious about how this particular sect could get
it right so often.
What drew you to the idea of becoming a Quaker?
At
a time when I was looking for a spiritual home, I was also curious about
Quakers. So on the Sunday of Halloween weekend, 1984 I entered a Quaker
meeting house for the first time. What I found was exactly what I was
looking for. It wasn’t so much that I thought it was right, than
that I *knew* it was right; that I’d been a Quaker my whole life without
knowing it.
But
I was also fearful of breaking the spell, of intellectualizing the experience
and moving it from my fragile soul to my strong mind. I therefore very
deliberately chose not to read anything about Quaker theology for well over a
year. Instead, I was drawn to the Quaker admonition to look for God
“experimentally.” (More modern word choice here would be “experientially.” )
Where do you put yourself on the Quaker spectrum - conservative,
liberal, or somewhere in between? How does that shake out in terms of
spiritual differences?
-- I’m unabashedly an Unprogrammed Friend. Quakerism is as much about
practice as it is about theology. (Old Quaker joke: a newcomer to a
Friends meeting sits through the hour of silence, then asks “When does the
service begin?” The elder replies, “The service begins when the worship
ends.”) Anyway, the practice of unprogrammed collective worship is the
spiritual practice in which I thrive. I can’t even imagine sitting
through a Quaker sermon and hymns each week.
-- I’m
a liberal universalist who believes that G_d is far beyond our ability to
comprehend. That faith communities across the world are all striving for
that same, impossible understanding. I make no claim that my beliefs are
more accurate than those of most other religions. (Noted exceptions being
Muslim extremists and Christian fundamentalists.) All I claim is that my
practice works for me. Yes, I also like the Jewish tradition of not
writing the name of the Almighty, since to do so would suggest a level of
knowledge we cannot attain.
-- I’m
also a Christian/Christocentric Quaker. I believe that the path to
enlightenment comes through faithfully following a particular religion, coming
to deeply understand its traditions, its myths, etc. Given my culture and
my personal history, it makes a whole lot more sense for me to immerse myself
in the Christian traditions than the Buddhist ones. Put another way, I’m
skeptical of a universalism that dabbles in lots of traditions rather than
committing to one.
What would you do if you or your child had to go to war?
Because
my faith is so personal and universal, I don’t expect others to follow it, even
my children. All I can hope for is to give them a deep sense of the
possibilities of a spiritual life. So if my son decided to join the armed
services, I wouldn’t feel a sense of religious betrayal. What I would
feel is the worry of a caring parent that my son would risk his life for a war
that I thought could be avoided. For myself, if I were drafted, I
hope I would have the courage to choose jail as a conscientious objector rather
than kill another human being. To me, the admonition that “thou shalt not
kill” is pretty black and white.
Are there any aspects of your life as a Quaker that you
would like to see changed? What would they be? Any frustrations,
now that you've lived this life for so long? Is there anything
doctrinally you find particularly difficult to swallow?
Your
question about how I would like to see my life change as a Quaker feels too
difficult to tackle right now, so I’ll go to the easier half of the question:
there’s NOTHING about Quaker doctrine I’d change. Why? Because there is
no Quaker doctrine! Seriously. Part of what I love about
Quakerism is that our “doctrine” actually comes in the form of questions rather
than answers. Historically, these “queries” began as straightforward
questions about the nature of the congregation (eg “how many of your members
are in jail?”) Over time, though, they morphed into questions intended to
prompt seeking. (Cool, huh, a church becoming more spiritual rather than
more doctrinaire over time!). Questions like:
-- Do you live with
simplicity, moderation, and integrity?
That’s
not to say that my religion or my religious community are perfect.
Friends, like the protestant movement that soon followed, were reacting against
very specific excesses within the Catholic church. In some ways, I think
they went too far. For example, I think early Friends grossly
underestimated the value of ritual as a spiritual practice. Saying that
the holy communion is spiritual rather than physical may make good theology,
but it robs Quakers of a ritual that is deeply satisfying for many
Christians. If I were the Quaker Pope, I’d be looking to reintroduce
rituals that remind us of the cycle of the seasons. I love Easter for its
wonderful overlap of Christian and pagan/naturalistic myths of the Rebirth and
the return of spring.
My
other biggest complaint is that there aren’t enough of us. On the east
coast, it’s pretty easy to find a 200 year old meeting house and a descent
sized meeting that mixes together 5th generation Friends and new
seekers. Here in the Midwest, we’re a rare breed. Our meeting
places aren’t optimal, and we frequently miss the wisdom that comes from
sitting with senior citizens who grew up in the meeting. We also struggle
with keeping a sense of community even though we don’t work, play, and live
near each other. What works well in a 19th century New England
town is a little harder in 21st Century Chicago.
Do you like Quaker Oats?
I
love Quaker oats. They secret to making them well is to cook them for
about half the time they say on the box – that way they’re still somewhat chewy
and wholesome rather than the mush you get with instant oats. Try it with
a little brown sugar and diced apples on top.
