Quaker

This from the "life imitates art" file. Some of you know my book The Actor's Way deals with the connection between a younger, would-be Quaker actor and and elderly Quaker woman, his former teacher. Below is an exchange between me and Maggie Davis, who at 82 seems to be something of a Quaker dynamo in Florida. While the comparison is not exact, I have been struck again and again by how important these intergenerational dialogues are in the Quaker community. I have been deeply affected by older Quakers in my Yearly Meeting. When we had established Elders in our meetings, these dialogues happened all the time. They were, in fact, the way our Society perpetuated itself. I am moved to ask again: how long until we put our Elders back in their rightful place of leadership, honor and stewardship within our meetings?

What follows, with her permission, is an edited email exchange between Maggie and me. She refers to a pamphlet I wrote for Pendle Hill Publishing called Turnaround: Growing a 21st Century Religious Society of Friends.

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Dear Ben -
 
As you know, I read your Pendle Hill publication "Turnaround" recently with great interest, especially the ending, in which you offer possible solutions for the problems being encountered by Friends and Quaker meetings today.
 
I hope you'll let me make a few comments, beginning with the ending of "Turnaround"  .
 
I'm glad you found a happy prospect in the numbers and activities of "young Friends" (apparently a 20-30 age group), who use text messaging and cell phones among other things to bond and generally stay in touch with each other in the Friendly spirit. 
 
I'm hopeful, too, that these young Friends are our future Quaker leaders and that the electronic age is going to be friendly to us (Quakers).  As you point out in "Turnaround," our numbers are diminishing and with them much of the spirit and sense of Quakerism.  Historically our numbers have always been small, but our achievements have been great . . . .

In his book "Beyond Majority Rule" Jesuit Michael Sheehan, writing  on Quaker decision-making, emphasizes how vital it is for Friends to base their thinking on respect and care for the group, which he considers essential and in some ways unique to Quakers.  He feels the focus on the importance of the Quaker decision-making process may be in danger, influenced by today's individualistic culture.
 
Certainly the shift, which Sheehan describes as "from communitarian to atomic" has been taking place in my meeting for some time.  Recently a committee member invited other committee members via e-mail to join him in a discussion of items of the committee's business before they met at the next committee meeting . . . .

[My] Meeting is mainly composed of two groups: the elderly (over 65), and a group in their thirties and forties.  Many in both groups attend for worship and some socialization, and are not involved in Meeting responsibilities. The Meeting has a chronic problem enlisting volunteers, and resorts to some paid positions such as "childcare," although there is currently not much need for this item, as we seldom see any small children.  Responsibility for the business of the Meeting is left to a handful of members and attenders who function as the Meeting "doers." . . . .

The Meeting, since building the new meeting house, has experienced a surge in attendance.  As with other meetings, many older, experienced Friends are no longer with us and the absence of their Quakerly guidance is felt.  A portion of our congregation appears to have become interested in Quakerism only relatively recently, and this group seems to lack knowledge and in some cases even curiosity of what Quakerism is about. As a result the Meeting sometimes seems to invent it's own "Quakerism" - often based on ideas from those "shrill voices" you refer to in your book "Turnaround."  This leads so some fairly odd interpretations of Quaker practice.  . . . .

The world needs to know about Quakers and what we stand for.  As you say in your [pamphlet], many of us feel bitter, defeated and disillusioned as our country has embraced policies at diametric opposition to our beloved testimonies. We ned to show ourselves.
 
But, I'd like to add, we also need to have recognition among Quakers, too.  The Religious Society of Friends In Truth exploded in the sixteen hundreds with thousands of preaching ministries, many of them women, that continued well into the eighteenth century.  Theirs was an ecstatic preaching of the Gospel that might more resemble that of modern day evangelicals, but the traveling Quakers were also carrying the message of Friends in many aspects  to other Quakers.  In the United States traveling, ministering Friends of the 1700's were a great unifying force for the movement, going up and down the east coast and visiting and speaking out in Meeting to other Quakers, and those interested, in the fashion of George Fox.  They penetrated parts even of the great American wilderness, visiting isolated Quaker families.
 
Since, as you say in "Turnaround," the majority of Quakers in this century will be convinced Friends, I believe we are in need of a revival of traveling recorded ministers speaking out to meetings.  Traveling Friends have never gone out of existence, but at least as far as my meeting is concerned they have been scarce in recent years. . . . .

There' s such a need and such a great message to be taken to people attending Quaker meetings today!  I hope you agree with me..  I am glad I could forward my support and ideas to you as my age, 82, prevents me from taking much of an active part in matters these days.
 
But I'd like to hear your thoughts in return.
 
Maggie Davis

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Dear Maggie, 

Wow! That's the longest email I've ever received . . . I think!

We are indeed of the same mind about many things. I too have urged my meeting to hold latecomers in our forum room until the children leave, and met the same resistance. So we still have to sit through 15 - 20 minutes of doors opening and closing, etc. and our "hour" of focused worship really shrinks to about 45 minutes. 

And I agree about the source of this resistance: our cultural attachment to individualism. Much to my surprise, my Yearly Meeting asked me to speak at our Residential gathering in New Jersey last summer. My speech was called "Building Bridges" and a great deal of it was spent looking at our individualistic nature in the R S of F; at how there are aspects of the R S of F which draw such individualists; and how our future depends upon transforming our individualistic "transfer students" into members of a covenant community, in which our collective well-being comes first. That speech is wandering through the Philadelphia Yearly Meeting publishing process. When (if) it's published I will be sure to send you a copy. There's a portion of it on my blog

Your email reminded me of Howard Brinton's observation, in Friends for 350 Years, that in Quaker communities, the freedom of the individual must be balanced against the freedom of the group. I feel that there is a relationship between our nearly anarchic behavior sometimes, and the absence of meaningful authority in our meetings. We used to have such authority of course: they were called Elders, and they were charged with protecting the meeting and nurturing future leaders. I feel that we need to restore our Elders (who need not be "old", by the way) to a place our loving authority in our meetings. They might be people we could go to and say, help us have a quiet hour in which to worship each week. There are two good pamphlets on Eldering available through Pendle Hill, one called "Tall Poppies" and a recent one by Marjorie Larrabee [not yet available on line] . . . .

I am glad we have made this connection. My book The Actor's Way is about a young NYC actor who re-connects with his elderly Quaker grade school theatre teacher. So these inter-generational relationships resonate for me. Indeed, I believe they represent the future of our Society.

Yours in the Light, 

Ben

PS: Could I post some of our exchange on my blog? It's okay if not - but I have recently discovered that there is a great nation-wide Quaker conversation going on electronically. Check out www.quakerquaker.org

Covenant: a law or agreement between God and a community.

We gathered a Swarthmore Friends Meeting Saturday October 6th to examine how we could transform our meetings into "covenant communities." Present in this examination was the sense that our meetings are generally not covenant communities. Friend Tom Gates led us into this examination with a talk he gave in the morning there. One of the distinctions of a covenant community, he said, is that it is a place in which the central question asked is not, what can this community offer me, but rather, how can I best serve this community? Again, we were led to see all the ways in which our tendency towards individualism impedes the emergence of covenant communities, and yet we acknowledged that P.Y.M. Quakerism is especially attractive to individualists, who are free to attend our meetings for worship for as long as they wish without many demands being made on them, doctrinally or otherwise.

I am such an individualist, and I remember well all the ways my ego fretted as I moved closer and closer to convincement. "But they'll change you!" my ego cried, "You'll become one of them! You won't be the unique and amazingly sexy and compelling you anymore!" But in one of the many paradoxes of a life lived in the Spirit, I soon realized that God wanted me to be more authentically me, and that joining the Friends and working towards a covenant community was a path to my own power; a power meant to be shared in the service of something greater than my own desire. I still tell dirty jokes. I own a cell phone and text people madly. I put good and meaningful work aside to watch baseball games. I dress in women's clothing and entertain people . . . if I am so cast. And, I am a 21st century Quaker, who tries to live in the Light of the Inner Christ, and wants to spread the good news that such a life is available to any who want it.

At Swarthmore, I was also aware that there is much which is joyful and useful in the simple act of assembling together as Friends. Simple in the event, not the planning and execution. In this age of multi-tasking and simultaneous schedules, getting the numbers we wanted for the conference was daunting and we fell short of our goal. Still, I experienced the feeling I have had a Residential Yearly Meeting: of meeting Friends from other meetings and delighting in our common values, experiences, joys and frustrations. I think this is why early Friends put such a premium on traveling ministry. Each meeting, each "outpost in the kingdom of God" (as Arlene Kelly called us) needed reminders that they were not alone, that they in fact were part of something much larger than the sometimes overwhelming demands of their own little outpost. Tom reminded us of Paul's letter in Corinthians, in which the covenant community is described as a body with many different parts (Cor. 12:12). Paul is saying, by each being our individual selves - the parts of the body we are created to be - we will be serving the whole body (Christ) best. I have written this before in theatrical contexts, but here it is in a Biblical context: I am best when I am most true to myself, when I am most "Ben" - the elbow I was born to be. And, this is when I am most useful to God. Trying to be someone else makes me false, inauthentic, and God wants truthful people. But it's deeper than that. I think Paul is also suggesting that we cannot experience love unless we are both deeply ourselves and deeply in the service of Something greater than ourselves.

Surely it was God speaking to me, or underlining something essential, as I had only just read those words the day before in Patricia Loring's book Listening Spirituality Volume II. That night I was astonished to find that that Paul's letter continues to the famous passage about love, the one often read at weddings:

13:4 Love is patient and is kind; love doesn’t envy. Love doesn’t brag, is not proud, 13:5 doesn’t behave itself inappropriately, doesn’t seek its own way, is not provoked, takes no account of evil; 13:6 doesn’t rejoice in unrighteousness, but rejoices with the truth; 13:7 bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. 13:8 Love never fails. But where there are prophecies, they will be done away with. Where there are various languages, they will cease. Where there is knowledge, it will be done away with. 13:9 For we know in part, and we prophesy in part; 13:10 but when that which is complete has come, then that which is partial will be done away with. 13:11 When I was a child, I spoke as a child, I felt as a child, I thought as a child. Now that I have become a man, I have put away childish things. 13:12 For now we see in a mirror, dimly, but then face to face. Now I know in part, but then I will know fully, even as I was also fully known. 13:13 But now faith, hope, and love remain—these three. The greatest of these is love.

Perhaps there is a connection to be made here too: that when we are authentic - truthful and genuine, the "body part" we are meant to be - we are more available to love.

I was conjoined to a different kind of community Friday night, the night before the conference. Me and about 20,000 others felt the Spirit rush through us on the amplified wings of the music of Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band. The Boss seemed more pissed than I've seen him before, not at us but at what's up in the country his so loves. "I love being in Philly," he said, "birthplace of some of the greatest things in America, like cheese steaks, and the Bill of Rights". The songs he played, and the sequence he played them in, all seemed to be saying - wake up, don't believe what hear or see, and even though you're being deceived there is still virtue and hope, but you have to make it happen. Click here for a great opinion piece by my friend David Bradley about the Boss's message last weekend.

As I sat in worship this morning images of 20,000 souls pumping fists and singing in unison drifted through my mind. And I was moved to speak to my Friends about what we sacrifice when we stay too attached to our individualism, and the enormous power we have when act together.

I was privileged to hear the Haverford College freshman class receive instructions on the Honor Code at the college. Simply put, the Honor Code is a pledge every incoming freshman signs. It has two components: academic and social. On the academic side, the student affirms not to cheat or plagiarize in any way, and to report any instance of cheating s/he witnesses. On the social side, the student agrees to a series of codes of conduct around interpersonal behavior and communal living. Packed into my sweltering meeting room, the freshman heard a series of speakers refer to the honor code as a "gift". They also came to understand that it was not an easy row to hoe, that temptations were plentiful and that everyone makes mistakes. I was astonished to learn that enforcement of the Honor Code is the student body's responsibility - as opposed to faculty and administration - as are judgments of those who break it.

What struck me as wonderful about what the college is doing is that it assumes goodness, but takes enforcement seriously. And I wondered - does my monthly meeting have an honor code? If so, how is it enforced? We assume goodness too - but what happens when Friends reveal themselves as the frail and imperfect creatures we are? How are we accountable to each other? One of the most moving speakers was a senior, who recalled of hearing of a student who had cheated on a take-home exam. He said he felt two things: pity for the pain the student must be in, and a deep sense of personal betrayal. I long for a spiritual community so closely knit together, that one Friend's transgression is my own as well, and so it must be my responsibility to mend it.

Dear Readers,

I have recently archived many entries from fall '05 through fall '06 which were orginally part of a journal I was keeping. They cover, among other things: my work on the following plays, Jason and The Golden Fleece, The Crucible and The Imaginary Invalid; reflections on the workshop I created called "Revival: Meetings for Theatre"; various pedagogical concerns related to teaching acting; the life of the "citizen actor"; my journey in recovery; thoughts about popular culture and various accounts of my Quaker and family experieinces.

I have expanded the categories to reflect these additions. These new posts can be accessed through the "older" tab in the "archives" section to the right.

We exchanged the corn fields of Lehigh Valley for the peach trees of Mullica Hill this year. As much as I griped about DeSales last year, I confess I missed the rural-ness of it. Rowan felt strangely urban, even though the part of New Jersey it sits in is not exactly a hoppin' place. But the rooms were a great improvement. The kids and I (and Susan for a night) had a double suite with our own bath. And the golf carts were rolling! My kids will forever associate Residential Yearly Meeting with two things: flagging down golf carts for rides and eating whatever they want from vast dining halls. Oh, and the awesome Friends made through the superior youth programs!

I think I will forever associate RYM with arriving hot and bothered. This year, I came from a full day of teaching hormonal teens acting, fought my way through rush hour traffic and arrived in time to unload bags and linens for four of us, and to make up beds. Then Sooz and the kids arrived. I wanted to shower but realized I had forgotten soap and shampoo. A change of shirt and some extra deodorant and the four of us went to dinner in the Rowan dining hall, a futuristic hallucination of a room, kind of "Jetsons meets mod-Italian". It took of couple of tries to figure out how the food was laid out among the various serving islands. Also - no trays. Later, Sooz took the kids to the kids programs rooms and I went to the vast auditorium called Wilson Hall. It's a both a sign of how good the kids programs are and how familiar Griff and Ella are with them, that they were deposited there with minimal fuss.

I had come to RYM to deliver a speech that night (a portion of which is in a blog post here called "Bridges Between Yearly Meetings".) Because of my work schedule in July, I actually finished writing it a month ago and have spent the last month sending it to a few trusted Friends for feedback. It was originally about ten pages longer, but I hacked away at it to get it close to the 45 minutes requested. Even with those ten pages out, I knew it was going to be longer. In a dry run last week it came in at 53 minutes. But reading it over in the days before I arrived at Rowan, I came to feel that it had been written by someone else. Not that I felt the ideas weren't authentic, but rather that so much water has passed beneath my fragile bridge in the past month that I feel like a different person now. As I sat on stage next to Tom Gates, who was introducing me, I gradually became more and more nervous. I saw Sooz had returned from dropping off the kids.

There was an epistle read from the Standing Committee on Worship and Care (which I sit on), followed by some passionate ministry from the floor. It was in response to the Committee's sense, expressed in the epistle, that PYM needs to to do a better job of supporting worship and ministry on a Yearly Meeting level. Then there was a wonderful presentation on the Friends Center at Race Street, and the way we are living our testimonies by taking such a bold step in eco-friendly design. Then Tom introduced me. He had asked if I wanted to begin speaking out of the silence, and I said I would. So we settled into worship in that giant hall, and I felt my heart pound in my chest. Here I ask: was it stage fright? exhaustion? or God? Does it matter? I use these physical sensations as signs of Divine Presence, but am aware that any doctor could parse them into clinical diagnoses. I guess what matters is what I choose to believe, over and above what I know. I felt moved to rise and speak after only a few minutes of worship. It was just past eight.

It was nine when I finished. I had that peculiar out-of-body experience actors know, when one feels somehow detached from the event taking place. This sensation was fortunately fleeting. I tried to remember to lift my eyes off the page and see my Friends as much as I could, scattered amidst a sea of empty orange seats. Afterwards, I felt spent, but whole. The response to the speech was enthusiastic throughout the weekend. I tried to quell my vanity with the sense that I had somehow been useful to my Friends, and the cheerful expressions of gratitude I received warmed me more from the connections they formed between us, than from their praise.

The Yearly Meeting made some weighty decisions that weekend. We were united in un-designating about 14 million dollars in funds and re-allocating them for general use. Some Friends asked to be recorded as standing aside, and one stormed angrily out. Then the next day, we agreed to form a committee to propose a process by which the Yearly Meeting can discern its priorities. One Friend rose and loudly complained about the pace of our proceedings, and while there were aspects of what he said that escaped me, I resonated with the sense he expressed that we were rushing and glancing over matters that deserved more time. I will suggest to the planning committee that for next year, the deliberative sessions be day-long, with a lunch break, and the workshops in the afternoon curtailed or eliminated.

Over all, I had the same sense I had last year, that of joyful co-mingling and fellowship with my spiritual community. I had meaningful encounters with young and older Friends, over meals, walking to sessions and riding in golf carts. I spoke in my speech about nurturing the experience of love in our communities, and this past weekend, we did. I felt loved there. And I spoke about supporting bold and beautiful ideas. And we did that too. Not because of my speech, I'm sure. But because the power of the Holy Spirit was flowing through us, and bringing us together.