Showing posts with label Quaker universalism. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Quaker universalism. Show all posts

2022/07/20

[[Are Quakers Christian, Non-Christian, or Both? - Friends Journal

Are Quakers Christian, Non-Christian, or Both? - Friends Journal

Are Quakers Christian, Non-Christian, or Both?
February 1, 2013
By Anthony Manousos
Photo Mircea Ruba

I am both a Christian and a Universalist Friend. I see no theological contradiction between Universalism and Christianity because the Gospel of John makes it clear that the Logos/Christ Spirit is present in everyone and everything. “Through him all things were made; without him nothing was made that has been made” (1:3). Furthermore, “the true light [another name for the Logos] that gives light to everyone was coming into the world” (1:9). This was the basis of early Friends’ belief that the Inward Light is universal, present in all people (though some ignore or turn away from it). If you look in the dictionary, you’ll see that the first definition of “Universalist” is a Christian who believes that God will save everyone.

There is no doubt that early Quakers saw themselves as Christian—in fact, they saw themselves as the only real Christians. Early Friends argued this in pamphlet wars, tracts, and longer works such as like Robert Barclay’s 1675 Apology for the True Christian Divinity. Around 1690, George Fox wrote an epistle to American Friends admonishing them to evangelize among the peoples there. Since this is not a passage you’re likely to see in your Faith and Practice, it’s worth quoting:


Dear Friends and brethren, ministers, exhorters, and admonishers that are gone into America and the Caribbean islands. Stir up the gift of God in you and the pure mind, and improve your talents; that you may be the light of the world, a city set upon a hill, that cannot be hidden. Let your light shine among the Indians, the blacks and the whites; that you may answer the truth in them, and bring them to the standard and ensign, that God has set up, Christ Jesus. For from the rising of the sun to the going down of the same, God’s name shall be great among the Gentiles; and in every temple, or sanctified heart, “incense shall be offered up to God’s name.” And have salt in yourselves, that you may be the salt of the earth, that you may salt it; that it may be preserved from corruption and putrefaction; so that all sacrifices offered up to the Lord may be seasoned, and be a good savor to God…. And Friends, be not negligent but keep up your negroes’ meetings and your family meetings; and have meetings with the Indian kings, and their councils and subjects everywhere, and with others. Bring them all to the baptizing and circumcising spirit, by which they may know God, and serve and worship him.

It is clear from passages like these that George Fox was not only a Christian, but an Evangelical who believed that Christ was the “way, the truth, and the life.”

Some prominent early Quakers embraced a more inclusive and tolerant view of other forms of Christianity, and even of other religions, as is evident in the writings of William Penn and Isaac Penington. Some 70 years after Fox’s epistle, John Woolman wrote:


There is a Principle which is pure, placed in the human Mind, which in different Places and Ages hath had different Names; it is, however, pure, and proceeds from God. It is deep, and inward, confined to no Forms of Religion, nor excluded from any, where the Heart stands in perfect Sincerity. In whomsoever this takes Root and grows, of what Nation soever, they become Brethren.

When John Woolman felt led to go among the Native Americans, he didn’t feel a need to convert them. He simply wanted to share what he knew about God, and to learn from them.[?]

William Penn also saw the Indians as having “that of God” and wrote about them with great sympathy. He was a (Christian) Universalist who believed that there was truth in all religions and in all people:

The humble, meek, merciful, just, pious, and devout souls are everywhere of one religion; and when death has taken off the mask, they will know one another, though the liveries they wear here make them strangers.

The issue of whether Quakerism should be inclusive or exclusive—conventionally Christian or faithful to the Inward Light—has long been a divisive one among American Quakers. In the 1820s, the split between Orthodox and Hicksite Friends was partly over power—rural Friends felt that wealthy Philadelphia Friends were lording it over them. Urban Friends felt that the rural Friends were out of touch with what was happening in the cities. The Orthodox wanted to become involved in Bible societies and other outreach efforts, like mainstream Christians. Followers of Elias Hicks, a rural Friend from Long Island, wanted to stick with traditional Quaker doctrines, such as the Inward Light, which seemed strange to mainstream Christians. Elias Hicks was an extremely charismatic and popular preacher who travelled all over the United States and drew huge crowds, including many non-Quakers. (The poet Walt Whitman was a big fan of Hicks and you can see glimpses of Hicksite Quakerism in Leaves of Grass.)

Perhaps the most controversial teaching of Hicks had to do with the Bible. Hicks totally disapproved of Bible societies and didn’t believe that they would do anything to advance “real Christianity.” In a controversial letter, Hicks argued that when the Bible was translated into English in the sixteenth century, and people finally had a chance to read it in their own language, it didn’t lead to more Christian love but to religious wars in which huge numbers of people were killed. Hicks argued that that it is the Holy Spirit, not the Bible, that makes you a “real Christian.”

More from Friends Journal on Christianity

• “God, Jesus, Christianity, and Quakers,” by Jim Cain
A nontheist Friend on the role of Jesus and Christianity in his life.

• “Are We Really Christian?” by Margaret Namubuya Amudavi
Do we focus on the religiosity or the spirituality of our Quakerism?

• “Expectant Visions of a Christian Anarchist,” by Zae Isa Illo
If all the gifts of the Spirit are still available today, why aren’t they present among us?


In the latter part of the nineteenth century, an Evangelical revival swept through Friends in the Midwestern United States, bitterly dividing Friends into “real Christians” who were “saved” and the traditional, Inward Light Friends who didn’t ascribe to the methods and theology of revivalism, and were therefore “unsaved.”

This revival was a severe trial for Joel and Hannah Bean, weighty Friends who had served as clerks of Iowa Yearly Meeting in the 1860s and 70s. The Beans tried to mend fences between the camps, but finally retired to San Jose, California, where they founded a new Friends meeting. Iowa Yearly Meeting refused to approve the San Jose meeting, and stripped the Beans of their status as recorded ministers after they incorrectly answered theological questions on a written test.

A test of this sort had never been used by Quakers, nor had a recorded ministry status been taken away for doctrinal reasons. Because the Beans were internationally known and respected, this became a huge “issue.”

Hannah and Joel Bean then did something unprecedented among Friends: they declared San Jose an independent monthly meeting. This “Beanite” movement eventually grew into an independent association that spawned three independent yearly meetings in the Western United States.

Even broad-minded twentieth-century Liberal Friends like Howard Brinton used divisive language at times. In his memoir, Brinton refers to unprogrammed Quakers as “real” Quakers. In the 1940s and 50s Howard Brinton worked hard to bring Hicksite and Orthodox Friends together because both practiced unprogrammed worship, but he didn’t reach out to pastoral Friends and hardly mentions them in Friends for 300 Years because he felt that programmed worship was not Quakerly.

Given this history of divisiveness, I can see why Friends are wary about identifying themselves as Christian or non-Christian. It seems safer, and saner, to keep Christ and God talk to a minimum. I am glad that many Friends are willing to bring up these concerns, however. I think we can be better Quakers if we are honest and admit our differences and have respectful dialogues about theological issues. We can learn much from each other when we open up and share our beliefs and spiritual experiences. And I think we can communicate with those in the ecumenical and interfaith movement, as well as our neighbors of other faiths, when we feel comfortable talking about theology among ourselves in a Friendly, non-exclusive way.

Until the 1960s or so, most unprogrammed Quakers identified with being Christian, at least publicly. But many questioned the dogmas of traditional Christianity, and some were drawn to other religious practices, such as Buddhism. In the 1980s, the Quaker Universalist Fellowship was created for Friends who didn’t identify with Christianity per se. (I belong to this group and manage their blog at quakeruniversalist.org.)

This Universalist approach was controversial at first. Some feared it might create new divisions. But the Universalist perspective met a deeply felt need. It has served those who have come to Friends as “refugees” from Christian denominations in which they felt spiritually abused. Others have come from other faiths, such as Judaism and Buddhism, and are grateful to find a religious community that is non-dogmatic and welcoming; a growing number of Friends proclaim themselves non-theists.

This theological diversity has enriched Quakerism in many ways—indeed, there would probably be no Quakers in South America, Africa, and Asia if it were not for splits that led to Quaker missionary efforts—but this complex history has also led to questions that many Friends struggle with. Are Quakers Christian? If not, what binds us together? What makes Quakerism distinctive?

The majority of U.S. Quakers consider themselves Christian. One third belong to Friends United Meeting, and another third are Evangelicals. Worldwide, the vast majority of Friends living in Africa and Latin America are Evangelicals. Kenya alone has 133,000 Quakers, far more than the 50,000 unprogrammed Friends in the United States and Britain.

Two years ago, I felt a leading to reach out to Evangelical Quakers. This came about when I heard the theologian Marcus Borg speak at the Friends General Conference gathering. I asked him, “What is the biggest challenge for interfaith dialogue?” His response startled me. “The real challenge is not interfaith dialogue, but intra-faith dialogue.” He went on to say that some of the bitterest misunderstandings are among people within a faith tradition. That insight spoke to my condition. It was far easier for me as a liberal Quaker to reach out to Muslims than to Evangelical Quakers.

Something seemed wrong with this picture, so I offered to become a representative to Friends World Committee for Consultation, the umbrella group started by Rufus Jones in the 1930s to enable Friends of different theological persuasions to come together and dialogue.

One reason I believe that God has led me to this work is because eight months ago I met my wife at a Peace Parade that took place in Pasadena on Palm Sunday. I went to this parade because the main speaker was Jim Loney, a Christian Peace Team member who was kidnapped along with the Quaker Tom Fox, who was killed by his Iraqi captors. Tom is one of my heroes and I wanted to honor him.

Meeting Jill was a major turning point in my life. She is an Evangelical Christian who defies media stereotypes. She believes passionately in the Bible as the Word of God and Jesus Christ as her savior, and she also believes passionately in social justice and peace. She moved into a low-income neighborhood in Pasadena to be a good neighbor and serve the poor. She started tutoring programs, a gang prevention program, and works for affordable housing.

Jill opened me up to a world of Evangelical Christians who share many of our Quaker values. For example, Professor Glen Stassen of Fuller Seminary has written powerful books arguing for “Just Peacemaking” and he is also a peace activist. (He went to a Quaker high school, and two of his children attended Quaker colleges.) He is part of an Evangelical group called the Matthew 5 project that advocates the abolition of nuclear weapons and the use of diplomacy rather than arms to resolve international conflicts. Jill also knows Jim Wallis, the founder of Sojourners—an ardent advocate for progressive social change. And finally, Jill introduced me to a young countercultural Evangelical named Shane Claiborne who believes that Jesus is a revolutionary who calls us to work for economic justice. Shane started an intentional community called “The Simple Way” in one of the poorest neighborhoods of Philadelphia. He was also asked to be the keynote speaker at Philadelphia Yearly Meeting.

Jill has made me realize that many Evangelicals are open to many of our Quaker theological beliefs, as long as we can justify them biblically. Some, like Ron Mock, a professor of Political Science and Peace Studies at George Fox University, have a keen interest in the theory as well as practice of Christian peacemaking.

Other Evangelical Friends are taking active steps to promote peace. For example, Evangelical Friends in Rwanda founded Friends Peace House in 2000 because of the genocide that took place in 1994 in which an estimated 800,000 people, about 20 percent of the total population, were killed. The surviving Rwandese were traumatized and destabilized. The young Friends Church of Rwanda, founded only eight years previously, accepted the challenge this posed, and has taken an active part in the rehabilitation of Rwandese society ever since.

In Kenya, where I took part in a pre-Conference program organized by Judy Lumb and David Zarembka, Evangelical Friends are active in trying to insure that violence doesn’t break out during the next election. They are enlisting Friends to help do trainings in the Alternatives to Violence Project.

Ever since 2000, Evangelical and liberal Friends have been working together in the African Great Lakes Initiative to do a variety of peacemaking efforts: trauma healing, community organizing training, conflict resolution training, compassionate listening.

I was not only impressed by how Kenyan Friends live out the Quaker Peace Testimony, I was also intrigued by their theological understanding. In Early Christianity Revised in the Perspective of Friends in Kenya, Zablon Isaac Malenge, one of the leading theologians of Kenya and former General Secretary of Nairobi Yearly Meeting, had a remarkable take on missionaries and the universal basis of Quakerism:


I will tell you a mystery. Many people in this world are practicing Quakerism without being aware of it. Some have never heard of it and yet they are practicing it. Even our great-grandparents might have practiced Quakerism long before missionaries came here. Quakerism is a religion of the soul, the indwelling Spirit, the light within, the light of Christ, the Seed. Missionaries did not bring it to us, but the missionaries revealed it to us and said, ‘This is Quakerism.’

Malenge describes Quakerism as an “old practical religion” that preceded the arrival of Europeans to Africa. It is the religion similar to that of James, the practical apostle, whose letter was a favorite with Quakers. James wrote: “faith without works is dead” and “true religion means taking care of the widows and orphans, and remaining unspotted by the world.” Similarly, Malenge writes:


When Quaker Missionaries came to Africa, and revealed Quakerism to our people, many lesser-known individuals discovered that they had been Quakers long before they had heard of this new movement. They had been caring for one another with compassion, they had aided each other in times of need and trouble and they had been providing companionship in their small communities. They had elders in their communities who handled conflict resolution through dialogue and counseling. Those who were offended were encouraged to reconcile with their offenders and so they forgave one another, loved their neighbors and exercised fairness and justice in their societies.

Reading this passage, I wondered: If Friends cannot unite around theology, could we instead unite around practices like peacemaking and social justice? George Fox said we need to be “salt” and “light”; Jesus urged us to a “Light to the world.” How can we, as a world-wide community of Friends, show that we can indeed be a Light to the world, as well as a preservative that prevents the world from sinking into decay and corruption?

To be “salt and light,” we need to transcend our differences. We need to share our stories, listen to those we disagree with, and be open to a change of heart. We also need to seek common ground wherein we can put our faith into practice. One important lesson I have learned from my marriage to an Evangelical is we don’t have to agree about everything in order to love each other.

American Quakers
Early Christianity Revised
God
Hicksite Quakerism



Anthony Manousos

Anthony Manousos, author of Quakers and the Interfaith Movement, attends Orange Grove Meeting in Pasadena, Calif., where he lives with his wife Jill Shook, author of Making Housing Happen, a book about faith-based affordable housing models. He is currently completing a book about Howard and Anna Brinton. His blog is laquaker.blogspot.com.
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28 thoughts on “Are Quakers Christian, Non-Christian, or Both?”
Quaker Writing on Listening and Speaking from the Heart | Nontheist Friends
March 11, 2013 at 5:02 pm


[…] Given this history of divisiveness, I can see why Friends are wary about identifying themselves as Christian or non-Christian. It seems safer, and saner, to keep Christ and God talk to a minimum. I am glad that many Friends are willing to bring up these concerns, however. I think we can be better Quakers if we are honest and admit our differences and have respectful dialogues about theological issues. We can learn much from each other when we open up and share our beliefs and spiritual experiences. And I think we can communicate with those in the ecumenical and interfaith movement, as well as our neighbors of other faiths, when we feel comfortable talking about theology among ourselves in a Friendly, non-exclusive way….If Friends cannot unite around theology, could we instead unite around practices like peacemaking and social justice? George Fox said we need to be ‘salt’ and ‘light’…To be ‘salt and light,’ we need to transcend our differences. We need to share our stories, listen to those we disagree with, and be open to a change of heart. We also need to seek common ground wherein we can put our faith into practice. [Anthony Manousos, “Are Quakers Christian, Non-Christian, or Both?” Friends Journal, 59(2), Feb. 2013, pp. 19-22, online at oldfj.wpengine.com/are-quakers-christian-non-christian-or-both/] […]
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Day 163: Are Quakers Christian, Non-Christian, or Both? Does it Matter? | Finding God in 365 Days
March 24, 2013 at 4:01 am


[…] Are Quakers Christian, Non-Christian, or Both? | Friends Journal. […]
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dihappy
June 16, 2013 at 12:17 pm


Nice website.

I just wanted to point something out and let you know i didnt even get past your first paragraph.

Heres why:

“the Gospel of John makes it clear that the Logos/Christ Spirit is present in everyone and everything. “Through him all things were made; without him nothing was made that has been made” (1:3)”

This is an incorrect statement. The only thing the Gospel of John makes clear is that Christ had a hand in creating all things. This in no way means His “spirit” dwells in all things. The Gospels make it clear that only those who have accepted Christ have the Holy Spirit dwelling in them. Time and time again this message is preached, and can easily be proven by referencing the original texts/words and comparing how these words were used elsewhere in the Bible.

Well, thats my .02 cents. Your in my prayers.
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Chester Kirchman
September 1, 2013 at 8:10 pm


Anthony Manousos, “Are Quakers Christian, Non-Christian, or Both?” actually does an excellent presentation of people actually believing in Quakerism, before being aware of its existence. We all have training and personal beliefs. Without being Christian, the ‘salt and light’ can appear in many people around the world. Love of life, a belief, is to be in each sane individual on earth.
What is believed, can be false in reality. Many United States citizens wish to believe in a valid Justice Court System. However, an attorney at Buzgon-Davis has explained the four Judges in the Lebanon County Court, Pennsylvania that will automatically disregard a twenty year lease, once materials from a flooded home is seen in a picture of a Manufactured Home and the leased lot. Even though a picture the lessor’s considerably more dangerous mess, before the lot was prepared for the Manufactured Home. What we have faith in, may or may not be true. The lessor was trained in a Mennonite School and lied before a District Magistrate, at least twice, after taking a vow to tell the truth with the left hand on the Bible. The District Magistrate insisted the lessee pay for cleaning-up the lessor’s mess and evicted the lessee.
In the United States, the apparent God is money. Many local governments insist people keep their lawns ‘mowed’ within certain regulations. The real reason for this, is artificial value of the property to keep real estate taxes higher. There is total disregard for natural landscaping and the high level of air pollution created by machines used to meet the regulations. To many Christians, this is the right thing to do, to keep the value of their homes and even church buildings at higher levels.
Does it really make any difference, whether Quakers are Christian, some other religion, Agnostic, and/or atheist? With belief in the Quaker Universalist Fellowship, plus similar to Africans presented by Anthony Manousos, practicing Quakerism before joining, this individual has finally found a permanent Honor as a Quaker.
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James Tower
December 28, 2013 at 1:00 pm


Great article. As an Evangelical Friend who has recently migrated to FUM, I have come at this from the opposite direction. I have struggled greatly in trying to reconcile liberal Quakerism’s positions. I do feel we have much to learn from each other, yet theology is profoundly important to me. It has been said that Evangelical Friends are a politically diverse group bound together by a unified theology, and liberal Friends are a theologically diverse group bound together by the politics of social justice. I am one of those who want to have it both ways. I firmly believe that the gospel is important and that social justice is an expression of the gospel lived out. For me, true Quakerism must embrace not only the theology of social justice embraced by early Friends but the theology of the Gospel from which these expression arose.

While we have divided further along a spectrum over time, I find it odd to be accused by liberal Friends of not being Quaker enough because I have definitive theological beliefs and attend a programmed meeting, when they have virtually turned their back on the theology of early Friends. While many liberal Friends have been more faithful to early Friends worship practices and social justice concerns, I have found a lot of intolerance for someone who gets to the same sorts of practices theologically, though the Bible. How can one person who reveres the name of God speak to those who are offended by it? Shane Claiborne and Ron Mock are heroes to me. They take the Bible seriously and let it shape them with its redemptive message. I too have been shaped powerfully by God through the Bible, as well as by mystical experience. For me, doing good alongside a non-Christocentric Quaker is still good, but what I would rather have is a shared vision of what it means to be working toward the inbreaking Kingdom of God. I want a shared vision of servant evangelism, where service and gospel are working together as they did in the days of early Friends. Frankly, I refuse to settle for anything less. I have a great deal in common with liberal Friends, but if we don’t have Jesus in common, there will always be something of great value missing.
Thank you for your efforts coming toward the middle from the other side!
Agape,
James
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Guy Napthine
January 5, 2014 at 11:29 am


Not everyone is going to Heaven. However religious someone might be, God is no respecter of persons and will not save everyone. Christ Jesus alone is the One to whom we must look for soul salvation, forgiveness of sins and eternal life.
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Kevin
January 20, 2014 at 11:18 am


Thanks for a poignant article. I find the greatest freedom as a disciple of Jesus to follow the Quaker way in joining God in his loving/saving/redemptive work in the world. To know God as final judge (far more righteous than me and anyone I know) and that he has come to all whom he spoke into existence… (John 1:1-18; Romans 1:16-2:4 – hopefully proof texting with some context) is incredibly freeing! It matters not what tradition you ascribe to in the Christian faith nor what Religion you adhere to in the global market. Kevin. Committed to the Gospel and its effects according to Matthew, Mark, Luke & John.
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Christopher
March 1, 2016 at 5:45 am


Stealing from Al Gore, his soundbit was “An Inconvenient Truth” and it says it all. Truth isn’t what we fancy it ought to be, truth is what it is.

But what is “True” ? Its certainly not for us to decide – if as individuals we say we can decide “what truth is” we are stating that we are “God”. Its for us to weigh the evidence, discard the chaff and accept what remains, however inconvenient it may be.

Somehow we as human’s don’t like being told we messed up – whether that’s teenagers who won’t admit their best attempts have failed, or when they were toddlers and refused to be shown.

Somehow we want to prove to God that we will do something good then having earnt his approval “he’ll owe us”, which is absurd. This is a foundation principle of many world religions.

Many have incorrectly assumed that Jesus left us a set of rules and a way for people to somehow “earn” God’s approval, he didn’t. He challenged us to accept that we can’t “earn” God’s approval, but we can simply ask for it,

Its a gift, if you don’t want it, send it back……………..and since he himself claimed to be God ……

You can’t change what the choices you can choose between are, you simply choose which one you want. Disagreeing is a choice. Agreeing is a choice. You takes your choice and pays your money …..

Jesus himself claimed to be God, He said he has no intention to Judge us, and we will only be separated into those who believe and accept he was God and those who don’t. He made that perfectly clear many times, not least when he had a stand-off with the religious and judgmental community of his day as recorded by mark, (mark ch2).

“Son, your sins are forgiven you.” And some of the scribes were sitting there and reasoning in their hearts, “Why does this Man speak blasphemies like this? Who can forgive sins but God alone?” There are many other examples, this wasn’t an isolated exchange.

Jesus says he isn’t going to Judge (Separate / Choose / use whatever language you wish), but that the people will themselves be “Separated” between those who thought Jesus was God and those who don’t. – boiling down from John 12:47-50

“If anyone hears my words but does not keep them, I do not judge that person. ……… {but}…. There is a judge for the one who rejects me ……….For I did not speak on my own, but the Father who sent me commanded me to say all that I have spoken. ………………. So whatever I say is just what the Father has told me to say.”

So Jesus was either stark raving mad, or he was God. There is no middle ground. “An Inconvenient Truth” for sure.
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Nicholas
January 10, 2017 at 2:18 pm


I became interested in Quakerism before even attending a meeting. The words of Fox, Woolman, and others “spoke to my condition”. When I did attend a few meetings (an east coast meeting in Massachusetts) I met some “Christian” Quakers, but also Buddhist Quakers, Wiccan Quakers, and atheist Quakers. I even met one Friend who didn’t know who George Fox was. “Not important”, another Friend told me. Jesus wasn’t mentioned at meeting, and God, if mentioned at all, was referred to in nebulas, all inclusive ways that would make a Unitarian proud. Much of the meeting’s focus was on social issues and concerns – a traditional Quaker focus to be sure, but one that was an expression of Quaker FAITH, never an end in and of itself. Oddly, for me, the Bible – never mentioned at meeting (and not my first source for guidance, that being the Spirit) WAS quoted – when touching on social concerns. I’m a Friend who’s too socially liberal for, and geographically distant from, the Wilburites – but too conservative and traditional for the more liberal Quaker groups that are around me. My life goes on – in endless song – but in a solitary manner, at this point. I identify as a Friend, but am a Friend – without a meeting.
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Mother of Six
April 10, 2017 at 10:41 pm


Why I know that you are not saved…a Christian. In your posts, Jesus, him being God’s Son, his death, on the cross to save us from our sins (You are not saved unless you believe with your heart, and confess with your mouth), and his resurrection and eventually return are not your focus. “Go ye into the all the world and preach the gospel”. As a Christian, spreading the gospel of Jesus Christ is always our focus. Christians, those who have accepted Jesus Christ as their savior and confess him, know and understand that spreading that message….and that message only is what we have been tasked to do by our Savior Jesus Christ. Church organization, meetings, dress codes, denominations, church names..lifestyles (no matter how simple)……are not what Christians do… We live the life and witness to the unsaved as God leads us.
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Shelli Hill
August 15, 2017 at 12:41 pm


When I speak of my experience with God, I can’t speak of anything, but the risen Jesus, whom I have found to be alive, speaking and guiding me from the beginning of my seeking. Other spiritual voices (alive and deceased) have been appreciated throughout my reading and studies (I have a Master degree in Spiritual Formation from Portland Seminary, formerly George Fox Seminary), but none are authoritative, but Jesus. As for Scripture, my understanding of God’s love through Christ came through reading the New Testament without instruction. So, for me, the Scriptures are a powerful way that God reveals Gods self. However, I recognize the danger of going too far. The Scriptures have no power except the Spirit of God enlivens my mind to understand who the true Word is. I have a newfound appreciation for the Quaker saying, “What sayest thou?” It forces me to not be satisfied with only 1st century interaction with God, but to continue to seek God’s voice myself. I consider their testimony and what the Spirit reveals to me as well. I am a Quaker who believes in Jesus as the only Divne incarnation of God. I currently do not have a Meeting to Worship with.
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Toria
September 17, 2017 at 9:01 am


If someone is an atheist and has concern for social justice why don’t they start their own humanist group and practice social justice etc? I don’t understand why atheists would want to attend a meeting that traditionally is based on religious principles.
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`Nancy Mott
October 22, 2018 at 10:05 pm


I like this suggestion. And as a friend of Quakers, please consider how you can be practicing Quakerism if you cannot be friendly toward Friends whose worship practices or theology differs from you. It surely makes your witness weak. And that’s sad.
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Aaron Zacharias
March 28, 2019 at 8:21 am


Interesting article and thread of replies. I have been to a few Quaker meetings in my city, Vancouver, BC, and here in Monteverde, Costa Rica, where I a currently visiting. I do no identify as Quaker. I am a Christian. I am also an Anglican, but I feel centred in the Jesus Christ of the Four Gospels. I also have the experience of the baptism of the Holy Spirit, from my days as a teenage Jesus freak. What has attracted me to Quakerism has been the focus on social justice, reconcilition and silent prayer. But I have always found something to be spiritually lacking in the meetings I have attended, and have also felt saddened and alienated at the evident hostility in many Friends towards the Christianity of the New Testament, which does involve centring and ordering our lives, not around a nebulous light, but around Jesus, the Light of the World. Just last week I attended Catholic mass in the parish church in nearby Santa Elena. I felt there a sense of God’s Spirit and presence that I have never experienced while in a Quaker meeting. I probably won’t visit the Friends again. There is something lacking when Christ is not the focus. By the same token, I’m not about to convert to Roman Catholicism either. But I do agree that we are all on a journey together, and that whether or not salvation is something universal, really, who knows? I would rather not put God to the test, but continue living my life in a state of holy reverance and awe and of universal kindness towards others.
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Aaron Zacharias
March 29, 2019 at 9:27 am


Interesting article and thread of replies. I have been to a few Quaker meetings in my city, Vancouver, BC, and here in Monteverde, Costa Rica, where I am currently visiting. I do not identify as Quaker. I am a Christian. I am also an Anglican, but I feel centred in the Jesus Christ of the Four Gospels. I also have the experience of the baptism of the Holy Spirit, from my days as a teenage Jesus freak. What has attracted me to Quakerism has been the focus on social justice, reconcilition and silent prayer. But I have always found something to be spiritually lacking in the meetings I have attended, and have also felt saddened and alienated at the evident hostility in many Friends towards the Christianity of the New Testament, which does involve centring and ordering our lives, not around a nebulous light, but around Jesus, the Light of the World. Just last week I attended Catholic mass in the parish church in nearby Santa Elena. I felt there a sense of God’s Spirit and presence that I have never experienced while in a Quaker meeting. I probably won’t visit the Friends again. There is something lacking when Christ is not the focus. By the same token, I’m not about to convert to Roman Catholicism either. But I do agree that we are all on a journey together, and that whether or not salvation is something universal, really, who knows? I would rather not put God to the test, but continue living my life in a state of holy reverance and awe and of universal kindness towards others.
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Jonathan Lloyd
July 23, 2019 at 7:07 am


This is eye-opening and mind-opening for me. Just when I thought I had to run as fast and as far away from Evangelical Christianity as I could, here comes Quakerism. I, too, am married to an evangelical, a Bible-believing woman who holds social justice to heart. But as the Beans discovered and the Hicks discovered the dogma and teaching of the theologians within fundamentalism turn one against the Spirit. Even in these comments on this site you can see and hear the judgmentalism coming from that quarter. It sickens me and just makes me want to turn away from all things fundamentalist–the “it’s me or the highway” approach. I feel the error of fundamentalism; I feel it comes from a deep-set hatred of spiritual truth. It seems to love to circle the wagons, to protect what it has taken, to war from within and without. But Quakerism! This is something to consider, something to hold dear. Maybe the lilacs in the dooryard really can bloom after all–to steal from Walt Whitman.
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Bill Rushby
Crown Point NY, May 6, 2021 at 10:37 am


I am also a Wilburite-evangelical Friend without a meeting. I understand your circumstances, but believe that being a genuine Christian calls for fellowship with other Christians; in our case, Christian Friends! For my take on matters of faith, see my essay on “Conservative Friends” https://digitalcommons.georgefox.edu/qrt/topdownloads.html. Let’s be in touch!
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2022/03/31

The Journeyman – The Making of a Muslim Quaker – Brent Miller-White 2004

The Journeyman – The Making of a Muslim Quaker – Quaker Theology

The Journeyman – The Making of a Muslim Quaker


The Journeyman – The Making of a Muslim Quaker 2004

Brent Miller-White


How does a person start out as a liberal Protestant Christian, follow doubts about Christian orthodoxy into Quakerism, move from there to becoming a Muslim – and through Islam find a way back to understanding and valuing Jesus?

That’s my story, a journeyman’s story, which is laid out below.

My understanding of a journeyman or woman is someone who undergoes a particular apprenticeship that qualifies them to work for other people. My candidacy for such an appellation began unknowingly via being blessed with worldly parents and being exposed to very basic Christian roots.

My journey began when my parents moved from New York to a farm in the small town of Bethel, Connecticut, which suffered a polarized Protestant/Catholic setting where e.g. intermarriage was a rarity. The Congregational Church provided the compromise of their separate religious backgrounds, one Methodist and the other Christian Science. Our small church supported a missionary in Africa by the name of Minnie Carter.

I was much too young to pay attention to the country or countries that she served, but the impression of her devotion to her predominantly service-oriented mission did take hold. This also later influenced Eleanor Tishkins, the widow of our minister, to go to India under the auspices of The United Church in a service-oriented role as opposed to one of proselytism. Years later we shared memories of our different lay missionary experiences.

In 1938, my parents became active in the Moral Re-Armament movement and I attended all of their house parties, the agenda of which was based upon evangelism which emphasized “absolute honesty, purity and love.”

Who could take issue with that? The MRA, also known as The Oxford Group, peaked about 10 years later and then slowly subsided. It was also a “spiritual ancestor” of the Alcoholics Anonymous movement. [The group still exists, renamed in 2001 as “Initiatives of Change.” Its website is: http://www.uk.initiativesofchange.org/] It amuses me to think of its promotional success as the forerunner of such commercial techniques as Tupperware parties. Such a reference is not made entirely in jest. Long ago it had occurred to me that the politics of capitalism, i.e. commercialism, is very much involved with Christianity. Even today, President Bush is in bed with fundamental Christianity, and who knows how such is manifested politically and commercially within our cultural approach to God while we’re trying to keep a secular straight face?

The MRA experience eventually proved to be somewhat of a blessed event because it introduced my parents to meditation and in 1942 influenced them to send me to George School, a Hicksite-founded Quaker boarding school near Philadelphia. That result, however, initially backfired because it caused me to exercise the first of several rebellious acts as an otherwise seemingly harmless teenager. On First Day mornings I began to disappear in order to attend a nearby Presbyterian church, so I could sing in their choir. To stake my claim to a more active Christianity, I also began wearing a small cross in my lapel – i.e. my heart was now ‘on my sleeve,’ unseen but pounding hard and fast. I think I was experiencing the born-again phenomenon long before that term became popular.

Fortunately, George School also had another required Meeting for Worship on Wednesdays, so my brain continued to be washed just enough in Quaker practice to actually cause me to finally rise to my feet just before graduating in 1946. My confused message from God was immediately explained by my Religious Education teacher, who I suppose had a more direct line to God. I suffered a degree of mortification but managed to survive to speak again in Meeting for Worship a few years later. I now wish I could remember what that original message was all about.

After George School, I entered Trinity College in Connecticut, where chapel credits were mandatory. What a mistake that was. Its Episcopalian trinitarian approach was emphasized from the pulpit and/or within such rote acts as Responsive Readings and/or joint prayers, and I found myself simply unable to relate to such an environment. The realization of what a Quaker Meeting had to offer had finally taken hold. I never would have graduated due to my already familiar practice of going elsewhere, and so I became an Attender at the Meeting in Hartford. In doing so it might be said that I had rediscovered congregational stability. I also began to replace bible readings with Aldous Huxley’s The Perennial Philosophy, published in 1945. Rufus Jones called it “a magnificent achievement” and it really worked for me, its basic setting being that “Only the pure in heart can see God.”

My eventual marriage in 1951 to Theodora Whitaker, in an Episcopal church, was my next and also my last experience in being led to the trough of the logia of Jesus in terms of “Lift the stone and you will find me.” I recall vividly feeling offended by being asked to polish the soles of my new shoes so that when I knelt down to face the minister and his book, the congregation would not have to look at any dirty soles. What about dirty souls?

Fortunately, my marriage resulted in the blessings of four daughters and out of that came the instinctive realization that original sin could not possibly be a valid truth. My Christian box had begun to get some large holes in it. However, the understandings I felt that related to being of Christian service were not disturbed. No indeed. These were instead reinforced throughout by the world’s unrest during the thirties; and by the time World War II came into play I had already become a convinced pacifist confused only by the involvement of my peers, particularly my brother, in making themselves available to military action.

Lurking in the emotional background of such disturbing modern history was my bewilderment in learning that my roots included a female ancestor, a daughter of the Chief of the peaceful Siwanoy Tribe that lived on the land between Connecticut and Manhattan Island. She was one of 24 survivors of an organized massacre by combined Dutch/English forces in 1644. The purpose? The seizure of land. Between 500 and 700 Indians killed.

What on earth were Christians thinking then and since? It was 246 years later, in 1890, when my father was barely a year old, that the last massacre of Native Americans took place, at Wounded Knee in South Dakota. By 1899, our national occupation was finalized with the recognized total collapse of all tribal governments.

Despite my discomfort with Christian history my eventual personal need to be of service took hold in the early sixties at the age of 35. However, the concept of becoming available for overseas service immediately seemed doomed to failure. My search began with the American Friends Service Committee, not only because I was a Quaker but because I knew that I could not become involved with proselytism. AFSC, however, showed no interest in a man with a large family. Maybe we didn’t fit into its budget.

Fortunately, the more affluent Church World Service program of the National Council of Churches responded to our availability and we agreed to an assignment in the Middle East where proselytism was not an issue. Coincidentally this introduced us to the spreading wide of Quaker wings (other journeymen and women) in the world of service. I not only replaced a retiring Quaker, Willard Jones, as the CWS Representative to the Middle East but I was later replaced by Yoon Gu Lee, a Korean Quaker. Further, our work was carried out through the offices of the Near East Council of Churches in Beirut whose Secretary, Richard Butler, was a graduate of Earlham.

The Council’s Committee on Refugee Works was located in Jerusalem so, in the early sixties, with my venturesome wife and our four young girls we took up residence on the Arab side of the divided city of Jerusalem. We rented the basement of the former Iraqi Consulate which happened to border the old Hebrew University grounds that now housed an Israeli garrison that had a personnel exchange every two weeks under the protection of the UN. Our house and grounds, with its high wall, became an occasional military position, right on the 50-yard line, whenever hostilities broke out.

This often put the children at risk over the next three years and I’d have to run home from my nearby office to make sure they were staying undercover. The walls were thick but so were the bullets. Fortunately, the only close call we had was a stray bullet that bounced off an inside wall and ended up in the hem of a nun who was caring for Theodora in the hospital behind our house. She was suffering from severe hepatitis and the eventual effects of culture shock which later caused her early return to the States.

That is the background that led eventually to my getting out of the Christian baptismal pool that I had been washed in for so many years prior to becoming a Quaker. My work took me to six divergent areas of the Middle East . . . Syria, Jordan, Egypt, Lebanon, Gaza and the western protected newcomer, Israel. Each government was a form of theocracy and my work was carried out by indigenous Christian committees in each country through their refugee programs, which primarily affected Palestinian Muslims.

My most exciting work, when not traveling, was on the Israeli/Palestinian border of the West Bank. We had a self-help development program in 112 border villages populated primarily by Muslims. Most of the indigenous Christians (10% of the whole) were located in the more heavily populated areas. One could easily tell that they had come under a much greater exposure to western secular influence than the Muslim population. We were not involved with any direct proselytization but the implication was there. That was somewhat troublesome. Muslim curiosity was always at its peak. “Why is Abu Yacoub (my Arabic name) helping us with these projects? What is his motivation?” My particular moral sensitivity was not obvious enough for their immediate understanding of the ‘whys’ and ‘what fors.’ In time the efficiency of village networking took hold and a lasting depth of personal relationship surfaced that took care of such needs.

Meanwhile, life in Jerusalem proved to be very exhilarating. Theodora had become a skilled unofficial travel guide for visiting internationals and our oldest children were attending the Friends School in Ramallah. We further enjoyed the beaches of Gaza, the mystique of Damascus, cosmopolitan Beirut, the modern emergence of Amman, a multitude of archeological sites . . . the most outstanding being Petra. Then of course there were the side trips to such places as Cyprus, Greece, Baghdad and Istanbul.

In return, as residents of Jerusalem, we were caught up in the hosting and education of international visitors, experiencing the passion of multitudes of Christians at Easter time. We were also on hand to witness the excitement of the Islamic welcome when the Pope visited to meet with the Eastern Orthodox Patriarch, and also made contact with the enlightened King Hussein of Jordan.

Whenever visiting clergy came through Jerusalem we would invite one of them to preach at the YMCA Chapel. On those rare occasions when one was not available there were a few international laymen such as myself who would perform that pulpit exercise without benefit of the educational badge of ordination. I knew this hypocrisy did me more good than the congregation. Similar duties were less of a sensitive challenge in Ramallah, north of Jerusalem, where the Friends Meeting called upon my occasional services. They split their weekly Meeting for Worship between programmed and unprogrammed styles of worship. They more easily accepted the results of my less skilled interpretive role within the spirit of my intentions.

In the interim I began to study Islam by benefit of the wonderful facilities at the American University of Beirut and also Jerusalem’s single book store of new and used books on Middle Eastern subjects. I was immediately drawn to Sufism, the esoteric and mystical side of Islam, then known best for its weird whirling dervishes – which did not claim my hypnotic interest.

Instead I uncovered Sufism’s rich history in the study of sound. Earlier I had already developed skills in a cappella harmony so I knew about making overtones where the root sound is augmented by harmonizing. Our culture enjoys this unknowingly thru the skills of a good barbershop quartet that produces overtones, i.e. a fifth sound. It is also possible for an individual to do this alone, i.e. produce two sounds at once . . . the root and its variety of overtones.

In learning to do this I discovered that it was a very useful sound healing technique. When vibrations of sound produce overtones (the third, the fifth, the seventh etc.), one can enter a disciplined physical vibrational environment that when maximized is great medicine for the soul as well as the body. Practitioners call it toning and/or variations of chanting and I have been benefiting from it for many years.

Such toning or chanting is commonly found in use in various religious bodies but Sufism gave early recognition to it. One day when I was in Istanbul enjoying listening to the sounds of the multitudes of minarets providing the Muslim call to prayer, I suddenly realized that sound vibrations were being put to good use. Today I use silent toning as a personal method of centering down in Meeting for Worship in order to make contact with God.

Sound healing practices
have become an important personal hobby of mine. The listening as well as the execution works equally well for the soul. I have become a student of David Hykes’s work with The Harmonic Choir <www.furious.com/perfect/davidhykes.html> producing incredible sustained overtones as a self healing tool useful to one’s spiritual healing path.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=j4pVASwvvMk

Sufism goes well beyond the sound work I’ve mentioned. Its basic doctrine is one of love, with its own trinitarian emphasis of Lover, Loved and Love. For me, its poetic works and emphasis on mysticism, supported by the influence of the universality of Quakerism, brought the realization that I had climbed out of my Christian box. It simply had too many holes in it.

But, one very large question always remained and that was my relationship to the gospel teachings. Who could take issue with them? It seemed clear that over the centuries the teachings of Jesus had often been ignored or abused in the name of Christianity, but the teachings always remained available to be put to use or rediscovered for the hopes of future generations. In the words of Muhammad, “The heart is between the two fingers of the Merciful.”

Another current that drew me was monasticism. Life in the Middle East puts one directly in touch with monasticism. When living there one can’t avoid the awareness of being surrounded by ascetic practices that are directed towards a purification of the soul and one can easily get caught up in an almost spontaneous desire to satisfy one’s religious consciousness through direct contact with God.

I’m not suggesting that I was drawn to monastic practice. On the contrary, such practice seemed to be institutionalized and called for being experienced but not joined. The monastery of Mar Saba near the Dead Sea was my favorite one to introduce to visitors, but this was really no more meaningful than a visit to my favorite castle in Syria, the Krak des Chevalier, or visiting Petra in Jordan, my very favorite archeological site.

In my experience, those who fall in love with the Middle East discover very quickly that God is to be found everywhere, and in particular, one can find God immediately available within the relentless passion of its active Muslim community. The Quaker understanding that “there is that of God in everyone” is somehow more easily discerned when it is not burdened with the manifestation of evangelical Christian agendas, particularly those constantly on display overseas where we promote democracy prematurely for some cultural settings.

Upon returning to the West in 1965 I must have brought with me a nomadic urgency, because I have since made a multitude of moves involving six states. I went to Haiti on behalf of The World Council of Churches and subsequently returned to New York to become an Associate Director of CWS. Then, in the early seventies I was privileged to serve Pendle Hill as its Administrative Director in a backup role to its Educational Director. A special privilege that came with that was having Howard Brinton on campus, retired but wonderfully active. After he passed on his vibrations were alive and well in our daily Meetings for Worship.

Influences such as children and grandchildren are partly to blame for my wandering, but the primary influence has been pragmatic in connection with my work in syndication and land development activity. Any proclivity for service work needs to be funded beyond the straightening of children’s teeth or eventual college tuition demands. Ending up today in Asheville (semi-retired) can be traced to a modest investment in forest acreage made with a partner in 1968. The land is still there waiting to experience its inevitable future. To some extent I’ve lived in a closet on this because so many Quakers are critical of any environmental activity relating to the demands of our population growth.

These movements have resulted in a wider Quaker experience within several Monthly and Yearly Meetings. Every move has demonstrated extraordinary differences in each, mostly wonderful but some a little rougher than one would expect, based on what I’ve always perceived as an ingrown institutional stereotypical and almost untouchable ego. As Quakers by osmosis we seem to represent ourselves as being so special and who knows, maybe we are. I have no reason to complain. I don’t allow this to get in the way of my own spiritual quest.

These same geographic movements have given me an opportunity to witness the adaptation of Arabic culture to the West, with particular emphasis on our own immigrant Muslim community. One has to cultivate such contact and in so doing I have had the advantage of limited Arabic language skills. Conversely it also helps to keep them alive. I’ve come to realize and enjoy a personal need to cultivate those ties. It’s an extraordinary culture. I label it as one of the heart. You will not find Arabs on welfare. And once contact is in place they are quick to join in that mutual need to continue to identify with genuine warmth and kindness.

Another realization soon entered into this formula for wanting to foster this cultural relationship. I was taken back to the differences between the Muslim and Christian Arabs that I experienced earlier. And now, here it was again, surfacing within our own secular society. Without any depth of intellectual research I soon decided that it had to be a difference born out of the influence of the West as opposed to that of the East. In other words, many Arab Christians had been converted to western cultural standards despite the fact that the Middle East was the cradle of Christianity.

I had long ago come to the realization that Christian fundamentalists are as big a problem to our culture as the Islamic fundamentalists are to theirs. They both have been painted with the brushes of terrorism. Geographic lines have been diluted. The differences appear to be only degrees of sophistication when such a word is aptly applied to terrorist activities. We Westerners are perceived – correctly – by the East as a malignant society and this feeds the roots of terrorism. They also – correctly – consider us arrogant and that has fostered claims of an indirect or devious imperialism. The latter does not occur in a vacuum and the current end result of a terrorist response is very difficult to avoid.

I’ve come to recognize two important needs for America and the West. First of all, it is obvious that we will have to learn to get along with Islam. Then, what is not so obvious is that we will have to depend upon Muslims to get rid of their own extremist elements, just as Christianity has to deal with its own. War and temporary occupation simply does not work. One need look no further than the abortive occupation of Palestine over the past 56 years, and the recent introduction of walls to create Palestinian ghettos may prove to be the last straw.

9/11 resulted in an extension of my Islamic journey, and paradoxically, a renewal of my Christian roots. Although I had enjoyed social contact with the local Imam (Muslim teacher) in Asheville I had never visited the mosque during its Friday prayers. 9/11 was the springboard that prompted my first visit to the mosque itself, intended to show my support in case we experienced any local reaction as was being reported in isolated incidents across the country. Since that first visit I have now developed a regular Friday habit.

I already had some sense that Islam has perhaps a better understanding of the teachings of Jesus than Christians do. Islam literally means ‘submission’ and is based upon the concept of peace. It makes no division between secular and sacred, and I resonate to this. For instance, I am not one of those who would ask for the removal of our being ‘one nation under God’ in our Pledge of Allegiance, although I have not been available to the Pledge itself for many years.

The tragic acts by Islam’s lunatic fringe on 9/11 are aberrations from Muslim fundamental Koranic understandings. My first mosque visit in 2001 was prompted by the immediate ignorant and paranoiac profiling treatment of those in our midst who appeared to be Arabic. Those of us in my generation were immediately reminded of the injustices caused by the internment of Japanese-Americans after Pearl Harbor. I knew I had to reach out to be supportive, not only to my Arabic friends but to the powerful diversity of the Muslim congregation that I found, standing shoulder to shoulder and kneeling as one body to face the East in a posture that brought their hearts together as one in contact with God.

At the mosque I found a mixture of Arabic nationalities, Africans from many different countries, Indonesians and a few American blacks who had converted in recent years from their Christian upbringing. My initial visits to the Mosque were not without incident. The first found me completely alone except for the evidence of a pair of sandals. My shoes joined them while I went looking for the owner who never did appear. A true romantic might have equated that experience with the sandals of Jesus. The second visit required my being rescued by the Imam. Thirty pairs of eyes were upon me, the newcomer with a perhaps bewildered westernized pale face who was provided with the only chair in the rear of the room plus a visual instruction book on the moves required to make congregational contact with Allah.

My third visit found me standing in the back row and after the call to prayer I was soon experiencing the act of prostration which resulted in my glasses flying out of my shirt pocket! Horrors! What to do? I was no longer pale. I could feel the blood rushing to my head. Retrieval seemed imperative but difficult. Only later did I learn that such was not a problem. My errant glasses were not in the way, and if they had been then one would just pick them up.

Before a subsequent visit I asked the Imam for permission to tape the Call to Prayer. No problem. So, the following Friday, by this time fully confident of all the moves, when I prostrated myself the tape recorder went flying out of my pocket! Anyone familiar with Arabic culture soon realizes that intrigue plays a large role in establishing new relationships. I was still too new to be fully accepted and when my recorder took center stage I instantly knew that my cover had been blown. One or more would think that due to the paranoia of 9/11 the CIA had planted me in the Mosque to record the weekly thirty minute messages of the Imam.

Again, however, I was rescued by the Imam, Yusef. He and I had been visiting church groups in the area to explain Islam and with this incident he now introduced me to the congregation of the mosque, about 40 strong, not as Brett but as Abu Yacoub (my Arabic name) and since then I have become known and accepted. The introduction of course included my prior life and activities in the Middle East.

I must now digress and go back to 1999 to provide some background that relates to the eventual influence that took hold some time after 9/11. Quakerism for me has always involved the technique of centering down. Long ago I often wondered about those who were unable to take advantage of that approach in making ones self available to God in a Meeting for Worship.

In ‘99 I came down with a mysterious brain disorder which was originally diagnosed as Parkinsons Disease, changed later to a variant of Parkinsons, and then changed again to a variant of Multiple Sclerosis – and now, perhaps finally, the diagnosis as a variant of both. The tremors caused by this disorder are such that I’ve been unable to center down, the nature of the tremor being that it becomes active at rest. Any attempt at centering down results in an internal quaking that introduced me to the posture of those in meeting for worship I used to be curious about i.e. those whose active brains didn’t allow them to center down. I soon learned that my only recourse in meeting was to piggyback upon the words of others. Contact with God had become congregational again. And, in regard to the Mosque practice, here it was again, congregational.

There are twenty-two moves to be made in the act of making contact with God in Muslim prayer. One stands in a body, then in sync hands are held up, then brought down and crossed with the right hand over the left and so on thru a body of moves and when one’s forehead and nose touches the floor, with one’s toes pointing inward, that is perhaps the initial moment of contact with God or, as Quakers say, ‘the meeting has gathered.’ I’ve not made reference to the multiple vocal responses in Arabic that are called for. To me they are not unlike a mantra (I wonder what the plural might be for such?).

And so my long term interest in Sufism began to be experienced, not in the direction of a sophisticated intellectual pursuit but rather towards basic tribal or family oriented weekly worship based upon Koranic teachings which include the Hadithic supplements written after the death of Muhammad. Such became the traditions of Islam as understood by the early Arab scholars and they have remained in place for a long time, but today modern Muslim scholars are inclined towards the essential Quaker belief that I’ve heard more than one Imam express in pointing out that “God can breathe His spirit into man.” That and other similar understandings prompted me to explore Islam well beyond my earlier interest in Sufism. My early individual studies turned into an extensive Islamic library that includes both eastern and western writers.

While Christians are quick to reject Islam and Muhammad, the Muslims have great respect for Jesus.
I had already known that Jesus was respected and revered by Muslims as perhaps the greatest of the many prophets to be honored that preceded Muhammad. What I had not known was the extent to which his teachings and our historical biblical scriptures were accepted. There is the Islamic understanding that Jesus was a Muslim. Further, the disciples of Jesus are considered to be Muslims. The Koran refers to Jesus as the son of Mary. Having been born of a virgin mother is considered a miracle and I simply distance myself from that and any other questionable matters by being a deistic freethinker.

What first appealed to me was the Muslim denial of the divinity of Jesus. Like the prophets before him Jesus is considered human. The Koran tells us in Surah 23: “No son did Allah beget nor is there any god along with Him.” Yet Koranic studies uncover a broad respect for the teachings of Jesus. For me the Koran is particularly acceptable not only due to the absence of trinitarian beliefs but also its denial of original sin as a concept. I had long ago come to accept that point of view thru the Creation Spirituality teachings of the Catholic theologian, Mathew Fox. As for the trinity concept, I have no memory for that ever having entered into my belief system.

Eventually I was led to accepting, in 2003, after having studied its wider implications, an invitation to take Shahadah–i.e. to become a Muslim. To do so one simply has to affirm that “there is no God but Allah and Muhammad is the Messenger of Allah.” I had no problem with such an affirmation. I knew instead that my problem would be one of what I will call hybridism.

What a simple exercise it is to become a Muslim. Before doing so I knew I had to explore the acceptability of becoming a hybrid Quaker and/or a hybrid Muslim. With the latter no problem surfaced but it seems it could happen that my Quaker membership might come into question depending upon wherever I might choose to connect with either a monthly or yearly meeting. The latter write the guidelines but monthly meetings take the decisive actions.

This issue was addressed in the February 2004 issue of the Friends Journal, in which two authors, Chris Parker and Valerie Brown identify as Quakers who are also members of other religious entities. Subsequently, in reaction to those articles, letters were printed in the Forum section of the 2004 May and July Journals that questioned the multiple inconsistencies on dual memberships between both monthly and yearly meetings. The July issue quotes Sam Legg who points out that “If I understand what Quakerism is all about, I am one of the multitude of God’s children. Thee too.” What a wonderful understanding.

For years I have been a member of The Quaker Universalist Fellowship and it has often dealt with membership issues and relationships. Through its writings I came to learn that George Fox was apparently very open to other faiths, and that such included his having explored and identified the universalism of the Koran. Islam has never claimed to be an exclusive religion. It has been very open to the authenticity and in particular the accommodation of other religious persuasions. As for my having responded years ago to the call to be a Quaker-Sufi, it had never surfaced as a membership problem because it never involved me in any formal relationship to a Sufi entity.

I discovered that such formalities were not called for by the many Quakers I’ve known who have embraced Sufism individually as the Quakerism of the East and vice versa. Such mutual path crossings are delightful, but they usually end due to the obscure nature of Sufism which almost refuses to allow for definitional understandings. Traditional Islamic scholars have the same problem and tend to set Sufism off to the side. My Muslim congregation does not know me as a Sufi. That somehow reserves itself for certain individual relationships that require discovery.

I’m waiting to find out whether my having accepted the act of Shahadah will pose a problem to my Monthly Meeting or my Yearly Meeting. I remain comfortable with my own recognition of Quakerism as a universalistic vehicle that takes one beyond the limits of Christianity. I depend fully upon the genius of Quakerism being understood as the Light of God waiting to be discovered within each soul. And if I were removed from membership I would simply take my Quakerism with me and become one of many Attenders.

When it comes to peace issues, a claim might be made that there has been no rival to Islam in its emphasis on peace until the recent disturbances caused by its lunatic fringe, which is attempting to appropriate Islam in a way that is not unlike the actions of fundamentalist Christians in terms of ownership. Christians have a long and sad history of militancy and Islam is now having to confront the terrorism of its own lunatic fringe. These acts have been born out of cultural differences (both Judeo and Christian…i.e. Western) that need to be dealt with. We need to explore those peculiar secular demands that defy common sense and/or our spiritual sensitivities.

I am one of those who believes that Democracy has become a synonym for Christianity. And, we now find ourselves in a profound crisis with this understanding produced by the outrages that have been committed in the name of both. They have become little more than hollow words, emptied of all content or meaning and unfortunately they can be whatever politicians want them to be. To my personal satisfaction I recall having heard one admit that Democracy was the Free World’s whore, willing to dress up to satisfy a whole range of tastes and available to be used or abused at will. Our early support of Iraq against Iran was a prime example of exactly that.

This characterization was not true of Democracy in my younger days, at least as I recall them. Despite our isolationism we seemed to be on the path of compassion for real social justice in the thirties. I recall learning to knit washcloths in grade school for Finnish relief. Perhaps that was the beginning of the feminist movement! Earlier my young heart ached when I watched newsreels of the Abyssinians being overrun by the Italians. Finally, following WW II, the implementation of the Marshall Plan introduced us to world relief issues that were uplifting. Later our support of Israel was rational until it was corrupted to allow for the injustices suffered by the Palestinians being subjected to over 50 years of occupation. It seems nowadays that every rationale presented for what is going on ends up on the road to commercialism and corporate globalization which is the new name of the game. Commodities go hand in hand with injustice. The divide between the rich and the poor is becoming wider as commercialism wields its power.

And so 9/11 became a wakeup call for me to take my long term Sufi-Quaker connection and make it come personally alive to Islam’s future in our midst. To formally accept the faith (Shahada) does involve one with a membership commitment. Attendance at regular Friday services (Juma) is expected. A weekly lesson is offered based upon the Koran. There is a financial support expectation. One may choose, however, to remain on the fringe of the Five Pillars of Islam. For example I don’t pray five times a day (Salat) unless one credits those moments of silent contact with God that occur routinely throughout one’s day. That works for me. Contributions (Zakat) on behalf of the needy is a given and as to the annual fasting (Ramadan) I am excused due to health issues. I would love to go to Mecca (the Hajj) but again age and health issues interfere. That didn’t prevent me recently from being caught up in the joyful return and excitement of a local small ‘f’ friend who went this year. I believe it may have changed his life.

Meanwhile the dichotomy of my two weekly experiences, the mosque and meeting, are not in conflict. The demands are quite similar, both being a part of like-minded people, one body willing to prostrate themselves as a whole to make contact with God and the other willing to center down together and gather in the whole to make that same contact. In my case it really works.

This potential conclusion to what I have called my Journeyman experience has had quite an impact upon my way of life. I’ve often wondered what my life’s journey would have been like if I had remained in that small Connecticut town just to keep its grass manicured. Then I think also of those many others who preceded my journey, some of whom were not unlike Muhammad (peace be upon him) and/or Jesus (peace be upon him) in the presentation of the truths they brought forward.

While the Koran was making its impact upon the world there were numerous other similar sects or efforts in process. The list is long . . . the Sabaeans, the Magians, the Keomursians, the Zarwanians, the Maskhians, the Zoroastrians, the Dualists, Sasanadese, the Musnawanians, the Maniwians, the Muzdakians, Jainism, the Samaritans and who knows how many more? We do, however, know of those that survived with greater ongoing visibility such as Hinduism, Buddhism, Judaism and our own Christianity with its seventy some odd sects. But, for how long? There are over one billion Muslims for us to eventually include significantly within our long history of successful secular diversification. They cannot be ignored.

My hybrid posture may not be found to be acceptable in terms of genuine Society membership. I don’t know the answer to that. I do know that so far I am in good company. My long standing Quaker-Sufi posture has simply been enhanced by the activity of two loving communities who gather weekly to pray for peace. It has been quite a journey.

I have a postscript that may be helpful to some readers who may have never recognized the success of Islam’s early geographical conquests as a religion based upon peace. This was a fascinating phenomenom. Historical studies confirm that Europe, other than Spain which prospered under its Muslim culture, was experiencing the Dark Ages and was eventually rejuvenated in part at least by the science, poetry, mathematics, philosophy and the arts that flourished in the Muslim world. The spread of Islam that took place was due primarily to those differences rather than its military skills. Stanwood Cobb, in his 1963 book Islamic Contributions to Civilization, claimed that Islam . . .” was the virtual creator of the Renaissance in Europe.” Now, perhaps we can return the honor via a change in how we handle our own supremacy to include a willingness to truly become one of many nations under God and relate to the Middle East with the respect that it deserves.

Sufism, Quakerism, and Universalism by John Marsh - Quaker Universalist Voice

Sufism, Quakerism, and Universalism by John Marsh - Quaker Universalist Voice


Sufism, Quakerism, and Universalism

John Marsh reminds us of the mystical connection between Sufism, Quakerism and Universalism—a subject I am exploring in a new book, “Becoming a Friend of God” ( http://laquaker.blogspot.com/2010/11/becoming-friend-of-god-path-of-sufism.html). John shares with us this beautiful poem by Rumi along with reflections on Silence.  As the great Sufi teacher Baha Ad-din Naqshband once observed, “God is silence and is most easily reached in silence.”—Anthony Manousos

Only Breath
Rumi (Coleman Barks translation)


 


Not Christian or Jew or Muslim, not Hindu
Buddhist, sufi, or zen. Not any religion


or cultural system. I am not from the East
or the West, not out of the ocean or up

from the ground, not natural or ethereal, not
composed of elements at all. I do not exist,

am not an entity in this world or in the next,
did not descend from Adam and Eve or any

origin story. My place is placeless, a trace
of the traceless. Neither body or soul.

I belong to the beloved, have seen the two
worlds as one and that one call to and know,

first, last, outer, inner, only that
breath breathing human being.

****
Within Silence below stories, below emotion, below even concepts, the world opens up to include everything held in forgiveness and love. It can’t be taught, only pointed to. It must be experienced directly. It comes when the conditions are right as a matter of grace and more than grace, of alchemy and personal transformation in which the universal is seeing through you, just you in all your particularity. It changes everything, leaving room for virtues to arise without effort, because of what’s needed in the moment, and action thusly. The early Friends (who were startlingly awake) knew this intimately; today we are lost in words as if these familiars are a sufficient explanation of the world. There is a deeper calling to return home. The student asks “What is Buddha?” The master responds “Great intimacy!” This is what’s meant by rediscovering Friends in the time of the founding, at least to me. May we all be intimate with the universe in its oneness and in its particularity, which are one and the same, and act accordingly from where we are truly home.

2021/09/05

A Quaker in Iran - Stephen W. Angell

A Quaker in Iran - Stephen W. Angell

Quaker Universalist Fellowship

Quaker in Iran

by Stephen W. Angell

About the Author

Stephen W. Angell is the Leatherock Professor of Quaker Studies at the Earlham School of Religion. A lifelong Quaker, he is a member of the Oxford, Ohio, Monthly Meeting. He has a long and deep interest in ecumenical and interfaith work, and in citizens' peacemaking initiatives. He has also published books and articles in such areas as Quaker studies and African American religious history. Together with Hal Weaver and Paul Kriese, he has edited Black Fire: African American Quakers on Spirituality and Human Rights, forthcoming from Quaker Press of Friends General Conference in February, 2011. Stephen Angell has served as a member of the Steering Committee for the Quaker Universalist Fellowship. He lives in Richmond, Indiana, with his wife Sandra, and one dog and two cats..




Editor's Introduction

In these times of widespread and often intense religious prejudice and conflict, the Quaker Universalist Fellowship joins with many others in seeking to open doors to dialogue, understanding, and cooperation. One important way in which we do that is through visitation and conversation with persons of other cultures and faiths. In this pamphlet, Stephen W. Angell, a member of the Fellowship's Steering Committee, relates his experiences and reflections during a visit to Iran. He reports not only on his encounters with others, but also on the relationships among divergent religious traditions there, and his report is enriched by his personal reflections on the experience and its implications regarding the relationship between the United States and Iran. By helping bridge the gaps of misunderstanding and misinformation while offering an honest report of some of the real problems that separate us, this pamphlet _ like the visit itself _ is another small step toward mutual understanding and peaceful coexistence. It is also a pleasure to read.




A Quaker in Iran

I am convinced that God led me to Iran in the spring of 2009, but this happened in a complicated and rather unexpected way. Sam Neff, a retired Earlham College professor and a member of Clear Creek Friends Meeting in Richmond, Indiana, met in June, 2008, with Jay Marshall, dean of the Earlham School of Religion (ESR) where I work, to acquaint Jay with an opportunity for an Earlham or ESR professor to submit a paper proposal to present at the Second International Conference on Religion and the Media, to meet in Tehran, Iran, in November, 2008. At Jay's suggestion, I submitted a proposal. When my proposal was accepted, I began preparations to visit Iran. ESR bought a plane ticket for me, and I began the tricky process of applying for a visa.

Then, in mid-October, the conference was cancelled. This seldom happens with scholarly conferences; in fact, during more than two decades of attending such conferences, I had never known it to happen before. The reason given for canceling the conference was that the university president scheduled to chair ALIGN="JUSTIFY">the conference had to undergo open-heart surgery. Also, none of the 61 American participants, including myself, had obtained visas. ESR and I were left with a plane ticket to Iran; my ticket could be rescheduled, but not refunded.

It turned out that Sam and Ruth Neff had planned a tour of Iran in the spring. The tour would be under the auspices of Neighbors East and West, a citizens' peace advocacy organization founded in 1986.We would travel the country, including some of the larger and most famous cities (Tehran, Qom, Kashan, Esfahan, and Shiraz) as well as a humble village (Abyaneh). We would talk to a lot of ordinary people about their country of Iran, our country the United States, and what we hoped would be our mutual desires for peace. I proposed that I should join the Neff delegation. Jay and I conferred, and he agreed. This time the visa process proceeded flawlessly. My ticket acceptably rescheduled, I joined a group of 24 extraordinary people whom the Neffs had recruited. Our group included African Americans and European Americans, Christians and Jews, religious leaders and social and political activists, academics, farmers, lawyers, nurses, one retired doctor, social workers. We flew to Iran on April 25, and most of us were able to stay a full two weeks.

I had traveled to Europe and Central America before, but never to the Middle East. It was my first opportunity to visit a predominantly Muslim country. For someone whose scholarly work was in the history of Christianity, but with a strong interest in the broader history of religions, this was a wonderful opportunity.

But while Iran is a predominantly Muslim country, it also has religious minorities, including Jews, Armenian Christians, much-persecuted Bahaís, and the Zoroastrians whose presence in Iran pre-dates the coming of Islam to Iran in the 7th century. Our visit to Iran was an encounter with all of these religions.

Encountering Cyrus

Isaiah 45

1Thus says the Lord to his anointed, to Cyrus,
whose right hand I have grasped
to subdue nations before him
and strip kings of their robes,
to open doors before him—
and the gates shall not be closed:
2I will go before you
and level the mountains,
I will break in pieces the doors of bronze
and cut through the bars of iron,
3I will give you the treasures of darkness
and riches hidden in secret places,
so that you may know that it is I, the Lord,
the God of Israel, who call you by your name.
4For the sake of my servant Jacob,
and Israel my chosen,
I call you by your name,
I surname you, though you do not know me.
5I am the Lord, and there is no other;
besides me there is no god.
I arm you, though you do not know me,
6so that they may know, from the rising of the sun
and from the west, that there is no one besides me;
I am the Lord, and there is no other.
7I form light and create darkness,
I make weal and create woe;
I the Lord do all these things. . . .

13I have aroused Cyrus in righteousness,
and I will make all his paths straight;

he shall build my city
and set my exiles free,
not for price or reward,
says the Lord of hosts.

While there was plenty of the strange and unfamiliar in Iran (or, as it was more commonly known in ancient times, Persia), I often found myself coming full circle _ I had the feeling of coming home and of being at home in Iran. One day of our trip was dedicated to exploring the ruins of Pasargadae, including the tomb of Cyrus, extolled in the 45th chapter of Isaiah. Cyrus was the early Persian king who conquered Babylon in 539 B.C.E. while the exiles from Jerusalem were living there. The Jews were not the only conquered people he found in captivity. He sent them all home, and he respected the religious customs of all of the peoples he found there. He allowed the Babylonian Jews to return to Jerusalem, where they eventually rebuilt the temple. Iran brought me home to the Hebrew Bible that I love and cherish.

Our tour guide, Mana, was a young Iranian woman, extensively educated in the humanities. Her adherence to the strict Iranian dress code was casual and grudging. Her own religious orientation was profoundly secular, although she was also profoundly in love with Persian culture. She was uninterested in Islam, which she saw as an unfortunate import by seventh-century invaders of Iran, namely, the Arab armies of Omar, one of the Prophet Muhammad's successors.

Mana loved Cyrus, and she labored to have us appreciate him. "Many of the peoples among whom Cyrus went wanted to worship him," she told us. "But Cyrus did not want to be worshiped. He did not want people to regard him as a god, which would have been common for a ruler of that period. Cyrus said, `I am a man. I am human like you.' All of his inscriptions emphasized that he was a human." Of course, humility was not Cyrus's only notable characteristic; one scholar, Edward L. Greenstein, notes that "Cyrus combined great ambition, shrewd calculation and military expertise to establish" his large empire.2

One of my companions on this journey, a retired physician by the name of Will Rutt, and I were puzzling over the title given to Cyrus _ he was often called "Cyrus the Great." After listening to Mana, we agreed that the reason that "Cyrus" was regarded as great was paradoxically because of his humility.3 How often is humility a vital ingredient of greatness?

The divide in Iranian culture between Persian and Arab influences can run deep. At the time of the Iranian Revolution thirty years ago, there were Muslim clerics who wished to obliterate the ancient ruins at Pasargadae and Persepolis. Prior to the Islamic Revolution of 1979, the Shah had often appealed to Cyrus and the Achemenian dynasty that he founded as a precedent for the Shah's oppressive rule, and he held a terribly extravagant party for Cyrus' 2500th anniversary in 1973, a party to which many world leaders were invited (and actually attended) and from which most ordinary Iranians were excluded.

Moreover, for Muslims, this period before the time of Muhammad is often referred to as the "Age of Ignorance"; to suggest that there is greatness to be found in this period is farther than many Muslim clerics would want to go. Fortunately, wiser heads prevailed and the cultural treasures of ancient Persia were preserved. But many Iranians still get caught up in the rather limited conundrum, baldly stated: Who is greater, Cyrus or Muhammad? What is greater, Persian culture or Islamic culture? From the outsider's viewpoint, the way that Persian and Islamic influences can intertwine and intermingle is extremely impressive. It is impossible to imagine contemporary Iran without either the ancient Persian or the Islamic influence, just as it would be impossible to imagine Christianity without either the Hebrew or the Greek influence. God has quite evidently worked through both strands. I keep coming back to the thought that God delights in the synthesis of Persian and Islamic cultures in Iran, just as God delights in the synthesis of Hebrew and Greek strands in Christianity.

As we have seen, through the second Isaiah God addresses Cyrus thusly: "I call you by your name, I surname you, though you do not know me." (Isaiah's reference is to God's "surnaming" of Cyrus as "the anointed" _ a very exalted title used in the Old Testament for King David and some other kings of Israel and Judah, and in the New Testament for Jesus. In fact, the word "Christ" is the Greek translation of "the anointed.") The prophet is stating that a complete outsider, someone who neither knows nor worships the God of Abraham, Isaac and Ishmael, and Jacob, can be the savior _ of the Jewish people, at least. And again, God tells Cyrus: "I arm you, I empower you, though you do not know me."This may be one of the most under-utilized universalist passages in all of the Hebrew Scriptures. Often, universalism is approached from the viewpoint of the question, "Who can be saved?" with universalists giving an inclusive answer to

that question. This passage from the book of Isaiah addresses quite a different question: "Who can save?"

Chapter 45 of Isaiah reminds us that God can always call on any of us, even if we have not been in the practice of calling on God, or have a mistaken conception of who God is. God can call on us, whether we are Christian, Jewish, Muslim, Zoroastrian, Bahaí, Buddhist, or non-theist. God can empower us; God can rouse us to accomplish great saving deeds, even if we are ignorant of God, even if we do not belong to the synagogue (or to one of the later-arising institutions, such as church or mosque). God can rouse us, just as God roused the Persian king Cyrus 2,500 years ago.

"People of the Book" and of Light

I took along my English translation of the Qur'an on this trip, and for the first time in my life I succeeded in reading all of it. In talking to Muslims and in reading the Qur'an, the Muslims' holy scriptures, I found much that is familiar to Quakers and other Christians. The Qur'an discloses a continuous divine revelation, one that started with the ancient Jews and continued, through Jesus and the early Christian movement, up to the teachings of the Prophet Muhammad in Arabia in the 17th century. Take for example, this passage from the 57th surah of the Qur'an:

We sent forth Noah and Abraham, and bestowed on their offspring prophethood and the Scriptures. Some were rightly guided, but many were evil-doers. After them, we sent other apostles, and after those Jesus, the son of Mary. We gave him the Gospel, and put compassion and mercy in the hearts of his followers…. Let the People of the Book know that they have no control over the grace of God; that grace is in His hands alone, and that he vouchsafes it to whom He will. God's grace is infinite.

Mystics of many traditions, like the Muslim mystics, or Sufis, have thrilled to the Qur'an's description of divine light:

God is the light of the heavens and the earth. His light may be compared to a niche that enshrines a lamp, the lamp within a crystal of star-like brilliance. It is lit from a blessed olive tree neither eastern nor western. Its very oil would almost shine forth, though no fire touched it. Light upon light; God guides to His light whom he will. [24th surah]

How often do we encounter the image of "light" in the Hebrew and Christian scriptures? "Arise, shine, for thy light is come, and the glory of the Lord is risen upon thee." "The Gentiles shall come to thy light, and kings to the brightness of thy rising." That, from Isaiah, chapter 60. "The light that enlightens every human being was then coming into the world." That, from the prologue of the Gospel of John.

Muslims do not solely emphasize the transcendence of God. They also talk about God's nearness, even God's immanence, that God is inside of us. How else should one interpret the assertion in the 50th surah? "We[i.e., God] know the promptings of the human soul, and we are closer to you than your own jugular vein."

Yes, reading the Qur'an we find much that is familiar. God is inside us, and guiding us to God's light.

As we visited Iranian mosques, we found much use of light and color to bring our spiritual focus to God. In Shiraz, there is a breathtaking mosque composed almost entirely of mirrored surfaces; our group did not visit that mosque, but we did visit the shrine to the fourth imam of Shi'ite Islam, Zayd, which was decorated in the same way. Beautiful blues and yellows were a frequent color scheme in Iranian mosques and there was an exceptional mosque in Shiraz that had rose as its predominant coloring. Neither human beings nor animals are displayed in Islamic sacred artwork, but much use is made of the plant kingdom and of stylized calligraphy of Quranic verses.

Most mosques have a minaret where a muezzin used to give the call to prayer three times a day (three, rather than five times a day as is common elsewhere in the Islamic world). Modern-day Iran dispenses with a live muezzin, and in the rare instances where the call to prayer is broadcast, it is done so in a recorded version. One mosque, however, that never had a call to prayer is the extraordinarily beautiful Sheikh Lotfallah Mosque in Esfahan's grand Imam Square, constructed in the seventeenth century by another Persian monarch designated as "the great," Shah Abbas the First, primarily as a place in which the shah's harem could worship. One story as to why this Mosque had no minaret stresses the importance of Sufis in the design of the mosque. Sufis believed in and practiced prayers through contemplation, or through dancing (think of the whirling dervishes), but not primarily in spoken prayer. Thus, for their worship, the minaret would have been largely redundant.

Nearby, in fact on the same square, is the Imam Mosque, constructed nearly simultaneously with the Sheikh Lotfallah Mosque. In that mosque, both interior and exterior sound plays a very important role in worship. In fact, there is one floor stone in the mosque where, if one stands and sings or even whispers, the acoustics will echo the sound through the whole mosque. Our group's visit to the Imam Mosque corresponded with a visit by a group of male education students from a local teacher's college. They stood on the special stone and sang beautiful religious songs that rang impressively through the mosque. We Americans stood and listened; we too could have stood on that stone and sung, but none of us did. (I had a bad cold and could not have sung clearly.) But afterwards we found an opportunity to talk to our new acquaintances. They had many questions for us about our views of Iran and of Islam. Like countless times elsewhere in Iran, we left with new friends.

Light, color, sound, silence: my visit to Iran reinforced my intuitive sense that all of these can be ALIGN="JUSTIFY">moving, even stunning, pathways to God. The play of light in worship space is a familiar sign of God for me; most Quaker meeting houses testify to that sign of the presence of God. Dazzling color, while not entirely new to me in the context of worship _ I've visited European cathedrals, for example _ was, in its Iranian form, an extraordinarily wonderful revelation.

Iran, the United States, and Peace

I was about to step onto the tour bus in Tehran when an older gentleman, with a deeply lined face and long white whiskers, stopped me for a moment. "French?" he asked. Given the paucity of visas handed out to Americans, his guess of my national identity was understandable. "No, American," I replied. His face broke into a broad smile. "American? I am happy." Those few eloquent words spoke for everybody that I met in Iran.

I am old enough to remember distinctly the takeover of the American embassy in Iran thirty years ago, and the Iranian chants of "Death to America" that pervaded ABC's Nightline and other news programs of that era. On this trip, I never felt a trace of that hostility. I saw one small sign on the wall outside of the former American embassy that exhorted, "Down with the USA," but that was the only such sign that I saw in my extensive travels through Iran.

Attitudes toward America are not especially a partisan issue in Iran. There are indeed two vigorous political parties, the conservatives and the reformists, and the reformists in general are slightly more open to a broader range of Western influences. But everybody I met, reformist or conservative, went out of their way to display interest in and friendship toward Americans and America. And everyone, conservative, reformist, or other, was eager to practice their English with Americans.

Their interest in Americans was not, however, an uncritical one. Indeed, we Americans have much to be self-critical for when it comes to our relationship with Iran. A 1953 coup sponsored by our Central Intelligence Agency overthrew a popular left-wing elected prime minister, Mohammed Mossadegh, and replaced him by an oppressive dictator, Shah Mohammed Pahlavi, who ruled for 26 years and could only in the end be displaced by a popular revolution. Americans are not the only foreign power to have meddled extensively in Iran's internal affairs. Great Britain, Russia, and the United States have taken turns doing that for much of the late nineteenth and twentieth centuries. Foreigners have much to be repentant about.

But many people, including me, wonder why, after 30 years, the great nation of the United States of America can't be friends with the great nation of Iran. I can report that it is what the people of Iran want. Is it not also what God wants? As the Psalmist writes, "Depart from evil, and do good; seek peace, and pursue it." (Psalm 34:14) What can we do to seek peace with Iran?

There are many knotty issues in U.S.-Iranian relations, and this is not the appropriate format to sort out the details. What does seem worth emphasizing here is the uniformly good feeling that existed as we visited the Iranians, as we befriended each other. Many times, as we reflected during our conversations, we were sure, not only that the American and Iranian peoples could be friends, but also that we are friends. We wished and prayed for this discernment to trickle up to our leaders.

On my flight out of Tehran, I sat next to an Iranian man, who, for most of his life, had earned his living as a truck driver in Europe. He pleaded with me to carry the message to the United States that we should not bomb Iran. That would simply unite Iranians behind their current, hard-line regime, he observed. Iranians would have to become suicide bombers such as those Americans have experienced in Iraq and Afghanistan. While the United States should use whatever diplomatic means that we can, he asked that Iranians be given time to clean up their own house, to replace their current intransigent and corrupt rulers with a truly decent government. In the months since I left Iran, we have witnessed the great sincerity of millions of Iranians who have the same yearning for freedom that my seatmate on the plane had. We have also seen the power of the entrenched conservative establishment, which in elections that were not free and fair may well have obstructed the majority of the Iranian people. May it be that Americans have learned the lesson that our bombs and our covert military forces should stay out of this dispute, which is for Iranians to resolve.

How many of us Americans and Iranians are being used by God and can be used by God may seem considerably more uncertain to us in our time than it was to the prophet who celebrated the just governance of Cyrus 2,500 years ago. We may feel, and we ought to feel, the anguish of the Iranians and anyone who suffers. Dear Jehovah, Allah, Ahura Mazda, eternal Christ spirit, the great God who holds the whole world ALIGN="JUSTIFY">in your hands, may your peace, truth, righteousness and love prevail.

Zoroastrianism

I frequently found myself while in Iran puzzling over the role of Zoroastrianism. There are no more than 150,000 Zoroastrians in the world, of whom 28,000 live in Iran, the religion's country of origin, and about 20,000 in the United States. Thus, numerically, Zoroastrians are few, fewer in number worldwide than even Quakers. Yet, in Iran, their presence bulked large.

Reference sources commonly available in the United States paint the picture of an elaborate religion with an enigmatic founder. The founding prophet Zarathustra's dates vary widely, with one set of sources, probably Babylonian, presenting Zarathustra as having lived only a few generations before Cyrus, with a putative death date of 588 B.C.E., while another set of sources, mostly Greek, presents Zarathustra as having lived in the seventh millennium B.C.E. Scholars now think that a date between the eighteenth and fifteenth centuries B.C.E. is more probable. A variety of stories about Zarathustra are presented, with little confidence that any are more than legendary. An elaborate religious structure is described, with extensive scriptures, an intricate theology, and involved ritual.

None of this was the Zoroastrianism that I encountered in Iran. Zoroastrianism was not a live religion, such that I would encounter living adherents of it. Quite the contrary, while I heard of Zoroastrians (mostly in the central Iranian city of Yazd), I encountered none. Yet Zoroastrian religion, or more accurately, Zoroastrian influence, was everywhere. And it was presented very simply. Zoroastrian religion involved nurturing "good thoughts, good words, and good deeds." (In that sense, I suppose, nearly everyone in the world may be Zoroastrian!) I was pleased to read a news story about Zoroastrians in the United States soon after my return that used this same mantra _ good thoughts, good words, good deeds _ to express the essence of Zoroastrianism in this country, too.5

It was also presented as an indigenous nature-based religion, celebrating the four elements known to the ancients: earth, air, water, and fire. Motifs that embodied squares, rectangles, and other quadrilaterals, very common in Iranian architecture, were often explained as alluding to these four sacred elements. Zoroastrianism underlies Iranian Shi'ite Islam, in the same way that Celtic and Druid spirituality underlies European and European-derived religious systems, and in the same way that Native American and African American spiritualities underlie much of the current American cultural synthesis.

One place where this was evident was at a small village, Abyaneh, a good day's bus drive south of Tehran. Our tour group spent two nights there. Abyaneh is 2,200 meters (about 7,283 feet) above sea level. It is surrounded by mountains. No one knows exactly how old the village is, but it is likely thousands of years old. The village held onto its Zoroastrian religion until the time of the Safavid dynasty in the sixteenth century, at which time the villagers either converted to Shi'ite Islam or migrated to the remaining Zoroastrian stronghold of Yazd.

Abyaneh is in the middle of a very arid landscape, but it is built on springs that have made habitation possible. There are many willows along the bottom land; the fertile area, where there are numerous garden plots, is located below the houses, which are built farther up the hillside. Many fruit trees are included in the garden plots, and elderly women, dressed in very colorful floral print scarves, gain some sustenance by selling dried fruits, including dried apples, to the tourists who stream through the village. Other fruits and nuts cultivated in Abyaneh include walnuts, apricots, almonds, pears, and plums. There are three functioning mosques in Abyaneh, as well as a Zoroastrian fire temple that has not functioned for some time.

My friend Roger and I hiked out into the countryside to find an old shrine, helped by gestures from a donkey-riding shepherd who, even though he spoke no English and we spoke no Farsi, guessed accurately what we wanted to see and pointed in its direction. Next to a trickling stream, we found a two story, open air, abandoned structure. Roger and I walked into a dark chamber off the ground floor corridor, and Roger remarked about how earthy the shrine was. But then I beckoned Roger to come up to the top story, which was surrounded by air. Earth, air, water: the only one of the elements lacking was fire, and I was sure that fire, too, had been present in the shrine when it had been active.

The shrine was said to have been dedicated to a Shi'ite woman saint, who, however, had the recognizably Zoroastrian name of Mitra. Later, it was explained to us that many of the Shi'ite shrines in Iran did, in fact, date back to the pre-Muslim era, and thus had transitioned from a Zoroastrian past. One

of the differences between Shi'ite and Sunni Islam is that Shi'ites allow a place in their faith for shrines to saints, whereas Sunnis tend to frown upon such shrines. So, many of the Zoroastrian shrines were hurriedly converted to a Muslim saint after the Muslim armies invaded Iran. With their re-dedication to Islam, there was some hope that the beloved shrines of Iran would escape defacing or destruction.

Later, when visiting the magnificent ruins of Persepolis, we saw there, too, the numerous quadrilateral designs celebrating earth, water, fire, and air. Let us recall that, in the aftermath of the 1979, some zealous clerics wished to destroy these pagan, pre-Christian ruins, but other, wiser heads counseled against such plans, and the preservationists prevailed. Iran did not destroy its cultural treasures as did the Taliban in pre-2001 Afghanistan. The Shi'ite respect, even reverence, for shrines prevailed.

Visit to Qom

Qom is the religious capital of Iran, and, inasmuch as for all of the most important functions of government there is a clerical arm that oversees the regular government, that means that real power is vested in Qom. The dominant personality of the Iranian Revolution, Grand Ayatollah Ruhollah Khomeini, enshrined in the new Iranian Constitution the principle of velayat e faqih, or guardianship by the Supreme Jurisprudent. In the more than three decades since the 1979 revolution, there have been only two Supreme Jurisprudents _ Khomeini himself, until his death in 1989 at age 88, and his immediate successor, Ali Khamenei, Supreme Leader from 1989 to the present. Their visages stare down on all from billboards all around the country. (President Ahmadinejad, whose face is often portrayed as the face of Iran in this country, is never portrayed in this fashion in Iran.)

After our bus parked, we walked to the major shrine that dominates the city of Qom, the shrine (with its gold-plated dome) dedicated to Fatima al-Masumeh (790-816 CE), the famously pious and saintly sister of Shia Islam's eighth imam. We passed many clerics busily walking through downtown Qom, some with black turbans (signifying that they are sayids, descendants of the prophet Muhammad) and some with white turbans (signifying no relationship to Muhammad).

The shrine itself is open only to Muslims, so we knew that we would not be admitted. What we hoped for was a chance to talk to a high-ranking Shi'ite cleric, and our dream was to be realized. After the fifteen women in our party donned further coverings in order to make sure that no part of their necks, throats, or hair was exposed, we were ushered into a small guestroom adjacent to the shrine and cordially greeted there by Hojatoleslam Muhammad Nazari. He is the Director of International Affairs at the shrine (formally known as the Holy Shrine of Hadrat Fatimah Masumeh). The word "hojatoleslam" means "authority on Islam;" for Shi'ite clergy, it is the rank immediately below "ayatollah." Notable Iranian clerics who have achieved the rank of hojatoleslam include Muhammad Khatami and Ali Akbar Hashemi Rafsanjani, both past presidents of Iran.

Hojatoleslam Nazari did not speak English, so our guide, Mana, translated for us. The hojatoleslam was very cordial, and he spoke in an accessible and comprehensible way. He was just as likely to refer to Jesus (at least when talking to us) as he was to Muhammad. He confessed a liking for Americans. He expressed a wish that there might soon be an ayatollah in the United States. He noted that, during most afternoons, he put aside his duties as an interpreter of Islam to visitors to Qom in order to provide counseling on a one-to-one basis. He confided to us that one of his favorite authorities in the area of counseling was Californian Barbara De Angelis, a popular lecturer and author in the area of self help and personal growth. He was so happy to be conversing with Americans that he was clearly reluctant to wind up his discussion after the short time that he had allotted for us on his schedule. As a group of German tourists waited impatiently at the door, his assistant went about busily and officiously opening all of the drapes as a sign that our time was up. Only after several minutes of this did the hojatoleslam reluctantly conclude our interview.

The topics of our discussions with him were far-ranging. The restrictive policies of women's dress came up. (Afterwards, I found out that several of our women, with so many extra layers of cloth surrounding them, had found the still air of the interview room to be stifling and oppressive.) Hojatoleslam Nazari responded affably, but did not give any ground on the Islamic Republic's policies.Two women members of our group, Kathy from Kalispell, Montana, and Gayle from Atlanta, Georgia, were ordained ministers, and naturally the issue of whether women could be clerics in Shi'ite Islam. Nazari expressed a surprising ALIGN="JUSTIFY">amount of agreement with this proposition. He introduced us to his daughter, who, at the start of our visit, had been counseling some women in a room partitioned off from ours by a non-soundproof barrier, but who was now free. She came into the room, and we learned that she was engaged in theological studies. She was more than ready to ask questions about us and the religions that we espoused (some of us were Christians, some Jews), but time unfortunately did not permit that kind of discussion. Afterwards, some members of our groups parsed this portion of the discussion with a strong degree of skepticism, noting that Nazari had said that a woman could become an ayatollah as long as she did not have followers. Did he mean she could have no followers at all, or only no male followers? Anyway, we did not see how a female ayatollah could possibly be taken seriously with this kind of restriction on who could follow her teachings. In practice, Shi'ite Islam has no female ayatollahs.

Perhaps the most pointed answer that Nazari gave to one of our questions came early in the discussion. One member of our group, taking note of our location, asked for information about shrines in Islam _ what are they, and what happens there? Nazari gave a long and thoughtful answer, but then ended the answer unexpectedly with a political reference. Noting that Sunni Muslims did not have shrines, whereas Shi'ite Muslims do, he stated that this was an important reason that the Islamic Republic of Iran was unalterably opposed to both al-Qaeda and the Taliban. Both of these extreme groups, with their Sunni Muslim membership, had no respect for shrines, and engaged in fatal, brutal bombings of pilgrims visiting these shrines. Al-Qaeda and the Taliban were terrorists, and Iran was as opposed to them as was the United States.

Nazari was underlining what is common knowledge for most Muslims, but often overlooked in a United States illinformed about Islam; namely, that actions of al-Qaeda targeting civilians, such as the 9/11 attacks, violate Islamic law. Aggressive warfare is forbidden under Islam law (as is stated in the Quran 8:61, "if the enemies incline to peace, do you also incline to peace"), and it is also forbidden to kill innocent non-combatants. 7

Nazari, like many other Iranians we encountered, believed with considerable justification that the Iranian position on terrorism is misunderstood in the United States. Over and over again, we were asked about this during our visit. We should understand, we were told, that Iran is not terrorist, and that it does not support terrorism. What was left implicit but was nonetheless clear is that Iranians do not accept the notion that the United States State Department should be the agency that has the responsibility of defining for the rest of the world who is and is not a terrorist. If the issue in question is the struggle against al-Qaeda and the Taliban, Iran stands strongly, side by side, with anyone who opposes these two groups, and Iranians generally see them as terrorists. If the issue, however, is Hezbollah or Hamas, Iranian perspectives often shift to see these latter groups not as terrorists, as defined by our State Department, but as freedom fighters.8 It put me in recollection of the civil war in Nicaragua in the 1980s. The anti-Communist contras were seen by President Ronald Reagan as freedom fighters, but much of the rest of the world saw them as terrorists. We Americans need a more reasoned, even-handed, and dispassionate national discussion of foreign policy, especially Middle East policy, than we often get in the United States.

Jews and Christians in Esfahan

Jews and Christians have an ancient presence in Iran. Several books in the Tanakh (Old Testament) refer to the presence of Jews in Persia, most notably the book of Esther, which portrays its Jewish heroine as a wife of the Persian emperor Ahasuerus (Xerxes). The Persian empire, like the Roman empire, persecuted Christians in their first few centuries of existence and then provided them with increasing degrees of toleration. One Persian emperor, Khosrau I (reigned 531-579), even married a Christian wife. With the advent of Islam, both Jews and Christians became part of a dhimmi, or protected minority. Still, there were sporadic persecutions of both groups over the centuries, sometimes severe.

In recent years, a large number of Iranian Jews migrated to Israel or the United States; about 15,000 Jews remain citizens of Iran. Many Christians migrated, too, especially after the 1979 revolution.; the largest Christian Church in Iran, the Armenian Apostolic Church, has about 200,000 adherents, and there are other Christian churches, too, but none with more than 11,000 members. Jews, Christians, and Zoroastrians are each guaranteed a single seat in the Majlis, the Iranian parliament. Jews who remain in Iran are restricted in employment possibilities. They are generally not allowed to take a civil service position, for which it is required that one be a Shi'ite Muslim. (Iranian Jews did take part in the military during the ALIGN="JUSTIFY">Iran-Iraq War of 1980 to 1988, and some 15 Jews died as soldiers during that deadly war.) Certain professions, such as medicine, are open to them, and they may also engage in business.

The present Iranian president, Mahmoud Ahmadinejad, has made headlines in the West on account of his remarks about Israel and the Holocaust. He is commonly quoted as saying that the "Zionist entity" should be "wiped off the map," although many Persian scholars argue that this is a mistaken translation of Ahmadinejad's statement in Farsi. What Ahmadinejad said is probably better translated as Israel "should vanish from the page of time," an intransitive construction that was intended to express a spiritual desire, not a military threat; it is also pointed out that Ahmadinejad was quoting the founder of the Islamic Republic, Ruhollah Khomeini, ("our dear Imam") when he made this statement.9 It is commonly stated in Iran that the Iranian argument is with Zionism, not with the Jewish people; in fact, Iranian government officials, including Iranian State Department officials sitting next to me on my flight into Iran, speak highly of the Jewish people. Ahmadinejad i s also a Holocaust denier: "The pretext (of the Holocaust) for the creation of the Zionist regime is false…. It is a lie based on an unprovable and mythical claim."10

The contents of the previous paragraph were thoroughly known both by all 24 Americans who were part of our group and by most of the Iranians with whom we talked. Iranians did not think highly of their president for these kinds of remarks, even if his comments do not pose the kind of military threat that some Americans think that they do. The Iranians with whom we met thought of Ahmadinejad's remarks as stupid. They offered no defense of his Holocaust denial. They often resent the fact that he makes Iran look foolish on the world stage. The fact that Ahmadinejad's views on the Holocaust are not shared by many Iranians has not been widely reported outside of Iran.11

Our request to visit a synagogue in the beautiful city of Esfahan was granted, so this controversy served as a backdrop to our visit. We were instructed not to raise politics during our visit to the synagogue, and it was emphasized specifically that we were not to ask questions about Israel: this was neither a safe nor an approved topic for dialogue between Americans and Iranian Jews.

We waited on an Esfahan street corner outside a compound with very high walls. Then the gates opened. An elderly man with long white whiskers and a flowing robe _ we afterwards learned that he was the gatekeeper _ welcomed us. "Shalom! Shalom!" he said over and over again, most emphatically and welcomingly, in a soft, musical tone. I was perhaps the first man through the gates, and I stood at the front of our group of twenty-four. He came over to embrace me, as if I were his long-lost brother, kissing me on both cheeks several times. I definitely and intensely felt at home, and I was delighted with this greeting! But, for whatever reason, whether it was the look of surprise on my face or the time that it would take to greet all in our group in the same fashion, he did not repeat this greeting with the other members of the group, but rather shook hands with them!

Quickly we were ushered inside the synagogue itself. It was a beautiful and very large two-story open space that we were invited to take a seat in. A balcony stretched around three sides of the room. There we were met by a sixty-year-old man in regular business attire. He had both a Jewish name, Reuben, and a Persian name that I did not record, and he was the synagogue's historian. From Reuben, we learned that Jews had been in Iran for more than 2,700 years. A stone found in a local cemetery had Hebrew writing that was 2,300 years old. The city we were then in, Esfahan, had been called the "City of the Jews" at the time of the Muslim invasions during the seventh century CE. He told us lovingly about all the Biblical personages who had lived in Iran. One noteworthy person he mentioned was the prophet Daniel, whose tomb, he told us, is located at Susa, modern-day Shush. Jews and Muslims, he said, went to Shush to visit this tomb; Shush is "a good substitute for Mecca" if one is looking for a pilgrimage site! Esther and Mordecai are buried in Hamadan.12 Three Hebrew brothers, Shadrach, Mishach, and Abednego, the escapees from the fiery furnace, are also buried in Iran, he stated, as well as the last ruler of Judah, who is buried in Esfahan _ "even the Muslims go there."

His attention turned to more current concerns. In the middle of the twentieth century, there were 150,000 Jews in Iran, but in 2009 there are only about 15,000 Jews left. About 6,000 of these live in Esfahan and 8,000 in Tehran. Of the nine-tenths of the 1950 Iranian Jewish population no longer in Iran, most had emigrated to Israel.

"Why did they emigrate?" asked one of our group members, clearly ignoring the instructions we had received.

"You'd have to ask them," Reuben parried smoothly. He was clearly ready for any challenge that our group could pose to him!

The questions turned to Jewish practice in Iran. The congregation is Orthodox, thus it has no woman rabbis. Esfahan Jews had everything they need in order to be a functioning community. They have bar mitzvah ceremonies for 13-year-old males. They hold Hebrew classes in the synagogue, and even seven-year-old children can read Hebrew. They have a local slaughterhouse that provides kosher food. The oldest of their Torah scrolls, about 250 years old, originally came from Baghdad. They have up to sixteen Torah scrolls, many from defunct synagogues elsewhere in Esfahan.

Our group moved up front, and one of our group members who knew Hebrew read from a Torah scroll. Then Reuben gently turned the conversation to Iran and Israel. Both he and his wife loved Iran, he stated. Still, not everything about living in Iran was easy. A hard part was that all of his children had moved to Israel, where it was much more difficult to have family visits. The last time that he had seen his son was in 2003, on a trip he and his wife had made to Israel. A feeling of great poignancy and sadness enveloped our group in a few full moments of silence. Reuben had managed indirectly to answer our earlier impolitic and ill-advised question.

Since the 1979 Islamic Revolution, Reuben added, it was easier in some ways to be a Jew, but harder in other ways. We Jews are safe here in Iran, he concluded, as long as the government wants us to be safe.

There are twelve Armenian Christian churches that are open in Esfahan, but our group was not invited to visit a functioning Christian church. The church that we visited was a museum. We were ushered into a very large sanctuary, in which all of the ceilings and all of the walls were covered by icons, large sacred paintings. This seemed instantly familiar; inasmuch as the beautiful Islamic art does not depict persons or even, for the most part, animals, this space that depicted Biblical characters from the Creation through the early Christian period seemed a place of at-home-ness, of instant familiarity. Then, as I examined the paintings more closely, I was jarred out of my sense of at-home-ness somewhat. Unlike most icons I had seen in the United States, many depicted the prophets and apostles being subjected to great acts of violence. Outside of depictions of the crucifixion, my experience of Christian sacred art in the United States and Europe was of far more peaceful scenes being depicted.

What was being depicted was a version of the Christian story in which martyrdom is placed front and center. The exact same thing could be said of the Shi'ite Muslims in Iran; for them, too, martyrdom, as experienced by their imams such as Ali (martyred in 661) and his son and Muhammad's grandson Husayn (martyred in 680), is constantly kept before one's eyes either in sacred stories or in the central acts of worship in their faith. So martyrdom is a central element in Iranian religion, whether Christian or Muslim. As I moved on through the complex, this insight was strengthened and deepened. There was a beautiful, abstract monument to the victims of the Armenian genocide of 1915 in the courtyard of this church complex. Another building in the complex held important records documenting that genocide at the hands of the Turks.

As I left the Jewish and the former Christian places of worship, my heart was full. It was hard to sort out where I was happy and where I was sad, the feelings mingling together so acutely. Geographically, I was further from home than ever before, but participation in a familiar sacred story brought me to a place where those thousands of miles mattered not at all. In one minute, I found myself easily drawn into Iranian Jewish and Christian stories, feeling at home, but in the next minute, I might easily find myself thrown back into an observer's position. It was all incredibly poignant.

Baha'i

One export from Iran in the past two centuries was the new religion of Baha'i. The major figure for this religion is Tehran native Mirza Husayn Ali Nuri (1871-1892), better known as Baha' Allah, who in 1863 claimed to be a new prophet of God, "the one whom God shall manifest." This was a direct challenge to Islam, for whom Muhammad is the last and greatest prophet. Most of the early Baha'is had been Muslims, so in many respects it can be seen as a Muslim heresy. After Baha' Allah's death, his son and successor, Abd al-Baha, inaugurated a successful world mission, in large part by emphasizing the universalist themes in Baha'i. He increased references to Christianity. Abd al-Baha emphasized that his father had been the prophet for this age (or, to use the phrase Muslims use for Muhammad, Baha' Allah is the "seal of prophecy" for this age), but there would be other, greater prophets in future ages whose message would supersede that of Baha' Allah. In other words, Baha'is, like liberal Quakers, argue for a progressive and continuing ALIGN="JUSTIFY">revelation.

Baha'is also emphasized the oneness of humanity, and they came to champion such causes as interracial marriage, global peace, equal education for women and men, and a world language. By 2000, there were six million Baha'is in the world, and the most substantial growth was occurring in the developing world. In the United States, there were 142,000 Baha'is at the dawn of the twenty-first century. In Iran, there had been 300,000 Baha'is in 1979, at the time of the Islamic Revolution, but they have been severely persecuted in the three decades since.

One authority notes that Baha'is received "the most repressive treatment" meted out to any religious minority by the authorities in the new government. They cannot practice their religion openly in any manner. "Since the revolution, a total of about 300 have been killed, which equates to one in a thousand. There being no civil marriage in Iran, religious marriages contracted according to their faith were not recognized by the state, leaving their children in a legal limbo. Their cemeteries were bulldozed and they were given no land to bury their dead."13

Of course, our group was not given the option to meet with Iranian Baha'is. But the subject did come up once in discussion, when I was flying into Iran seated next to officials who work for the Iranian State Department. They quickly ascertained that I was a professor of religion, and they worked to make sure that I knew of Iran's enlightened policies towards Jews and Christians. I had done some homework, and thus I did recognize a considerable degree of truth in the information that they were giving to me. But there was also an omission that I perceived in their talking points.

"What about Baha'is?" I asked. "Do Baha'is also have freedom of worship in Iran?"

With this question, the tenor of the conversation changed. At one subsequent point, they challenged me to justify the anti-immigration actions of many, including many in authority, in the United States. I conceded the point and repudiated these actions by U.S. officials, actions that I don't support, although I confess that I did so with more irritation and far less grace than I wish that I had been able to muster.

But they did address my question about the Iranian Baha'is. Their response boiled down to two points. First, they accused the Iranian Baha'is of being agents of the imperialist powers, especially the United States. Second, they pointed out that Baha'is are different than Christians and Jews, in that the latter are the result of divine revelations that pre-existed the unfolding of Islam, whereas the former, more recent religion in some sense seeks to supersede Islam. The ancient spiritual traditions of Christianity and Judaism could therefore be tolerated, but not so the upstart Baha'is.

We were about to descend into Tehran, so that discussion got left there. But if I had had a chance to respond to them, here is what I would have said. I find their first response not compelling at all. They should give more credit to the Baha'i religion as a homegrown tradition. But, in response to their second point especially, I do not believe that freedom of religion should be only for the range of religious traditions of which one personally approves. Under the principles of religious liberty, Americans don't get a prerogative to disallow the building of a Muslim mosque on a site where a Christian church would be welcome. Similarly, if Iranians support freedom of religion, as these officials affirmed, they should not have the prerogative of tolerating only the traditions that they find acceptable. In any society, these principles will be tested and tried, sometimes severely. Americans certainly have given in at times to hysteria against unpopular religions and sects. But we need to stand firm that religious freedom is a universal principle, a principle to be honored by actions and not just by our rhetoric; only then does it really become religious freedom.

Religion and Secularity in Iran14

Before I disembarked from the plane into Iran, the Iranian state department officials, respectful of my knowledge of Islam as a professor of religion, tried to prepare me for differences in the Islam I had read about in books and the Islam I would experience in Iran. "You probably know that Muslims pray five times a day," one told me, "but in Shi'ite Iran, Muslims only pray three times a day." With that, they left me to solve the puzzle of religion in Iran myself.

It is quite true that I observed far less public practice of religion in Iran than I would have expected. At our hotel (Hotel Engelhab) in Tehran, there was a playing of a recorded call to prayer three times a day. But that was the only place in Iran that I heard the call to prayer, either live or recorded. Where had the disappearing prayer life gone? From five daily prayers to three _ to none?

From time to time, Iran struck me as a wayward piece of Western Europe that unaccountably got stuck between two American war zones. In part, that was because the many educated Iranians we talked to often seemed more attuned to the ideals of Western Europe and Canada (places to which they would emigrate in droves, if work permits were forthcoming) than to the ideals of their own Islamic regime. But their religiosity was less, probably far less, than I would have expected from the citizens of an Islamic regime.

Before arriving in Iran, I had read of complaints by Iranian clergy that 70% of the Iranian people did not pray daily, and of the astounding estimate that less than 2% of the Iranian people attend services at the mosque on Friday, the Sabbath day. We were taken far away from mosques on the Fridays that we were there, so I cannot vouch for that figure. But if it is true, far fewer Iranians attend religious services on their Sabbath day than Americans do on theirs; the most conservative estimates are that 20% of Americans attend religious services on their Sabbath day. The reason advanced by Bahman Bakhtiari for the low attendance of Iranians at Friday services strikes me as true: "The regime's draconian policies of imposing Islamic restrictions on everything, ranging from the country's penal code to university admission policies, have backfired."15 Human beings seem to have to learn over and over again that there can be no compulsion in religion.16

Both religion and secularity have an important place in Iran. In the religious arena, a very conservative, fundamentalist form predominates, and it has far more political power than do fundamentalists in the United States (although in my more pessimistic moments it sometimes seems to me that the United States is striving to catch up with Iran in this lamentable respect).

Our guide, Mana, was a face of Iranian secularity for us. "There are more Iranians like me every day," she announced brightly, early in our travels with her. I have already written about the scant interest that she had in Islam. Perhaps the most important religious holiday in Iran, Ashura, commemorating the 680 C.E. martyrdom of the Prophet Muhammad's grandson, Husayn, was for her a secular holiday, to be celebrated by a trip to the Caspian Sea (where, however, she disdained swimming, because neck to ankle covering is required of women who swim in the Sea).

One interest of Mana, one shared by very many Iranians, was in the poetry of the fourteenth-century Persian Hafez. Perhaps this interest showed an engagement with Islam, but if so, it is a very different engagement than that preferred by Iran's ruling clerics. (The poet's name "hafez" signifies someone who has memorized the entire Quran.) Hafez was someone who thoroughly enjoyed life, even as he recognized the limits of happiness:\

Strive always after ready bliss; for Adam, when by Fortune left,

Abandoned the Abode of Peace, and of the Garden's joy was reft.

Drink one full cup or two, and then from Life's bright banquet turn aside

Check thou, to wit, too eager hope that happiness will ever bide.17

The hometown of Hafez, Shiraz, features his tomb and the gardens in which he strolled, gardens that have been maintained through the centuries. "Shiraz" is also the name for a red wine with a spicy flavor, wine that can no longer be produced in Iran because of the Islamic regime's prohibition of alcohol.

A few days into our stay in Iran, a counterpoint to Mana showed up. Elham was a friend of one of us 24 Americans on this expedition. Elham was very traditionally Muslim, in a typically Iranian way. She wore the chador, which exposed her face but covered the rest of her body in a swath of black. On festive occasions, a colorful cloth peeked out from her chador and covered her throat. When Elham first saw Mana, she told her, "You are not dressed right." Mana ignored her. Elham accompanied us on some of our bus expeditions. When I asked Elham about Shi'ite Muslim holidays, she answered, but she was much more interested in asking me about English usage. My dog's name was "Sojourner," I admitted at one point. "So what does the word `sojourner' mean?" she asked.

We encountered other religious Iranians as well. Bob Phelps, a United Church of Christ minister from Montana, and I worshiped in Tehran in the Shrine to Zayd, Husayn's son, among a modest crowd of male worshipers in a late afternoon in May. In Isfahan, I conversed with Azar, who was surprised to find a Westerner who taught in a Christian seminary (or, as I said, struggling for English words that would translate across cultures, "I help to train clerics.") "So you believe in God?" she asked, perhaps used to Westerners who embraced non-theism. I gladly affirmed my belief in God.

What does account for the remarkable diminution of religion in Iran's public spaces? Is it the desire to keep one's prayer life private? Or is it a profound questioning, even possibly a repudiation, of the state-approved religion? From my perspective, clearly the answer is some of both. Part of that very well may have been because some, presumably like Elham, kept their devotional life very private. But we also met Iranians, like Mana, who were scornful of religion altogether and made it very clear that they were resentful of the numerous impositions made on their lives by the religious police.

Mana, Elham, and many, many other Iranians were very hospitable to us Americans. There seemed to be little difference between religious conservatives and more secular-minded persons in that respect. But it was also obvious that they found it a challenge to encounter each other. Religious diversity within the population of Shi'ite Iranians is an important part of Iranian life, just as religious diversity between conservatives or fundamentalists, on the one hand, and liberals, on the other hand, is an important part of Protestant and Catholic Christianity within the United States. There exist unrest and severe questioning of the Islam of the Iranian regime at a number of different levels, although of course the authoritarian, repressive nature of the regime makes it very difficult to ascertain how extensive the questioning and unrest are. How far that unrest extends to Islam as a whole is something that also is difficult to ascertain.

Conclusion

After my visit to Iran, I have come to see with even greater clarity the importance of genuine peacemaking, especially in the Middle East. I fervently hope that there is some way that sustained peacemaking can bring peace and justice to Palestinians and Israelis, and move us away, once and for all, from this horrendous cycle of violence. Equally as important, I hope for diplomacy and dialogue directly between the United States and Iran, and for diplomacy and interchange between Iran and all of the other nations of the world. We need to find the way to forgive each other of wrongs from the past, and we urgently need to find ways to prevent the violence that is so easily, even casually, threatened toward Iran _ especially, I am sad to say, from numerous highly placed individuals in the United States. Americans need to learn much more about Iran, and that may require unlearning some things that we think we already know about it.

It is a tremendous pity that so few Americans get an opportunity to travel in Iran. Its mosques and its ancient monuments are incalculable treasures, but the opportunity to visit with Iranian peoples is a treasure even more to be cherished. There is a grandeur in the ideals and aspirations of both Iranians and Americans; there is also human fallibility, easily perceptible in our respective sets of leaders and, indeed, in ourselves. But we are all children of God. There is much that we can learn from each other, and much love and laughter to be shared. Reader, if the opportunity arises for you to visit Iran, I hope that you will seize it.

Endnotes

1See their website at www.neighborseastandwest.org.

2Encyclopedia of Religion, 2nd ed., s.v.. "Cyrus II," by Edward Greenstein.

3Actually William Penn made a similar point in No Cross, No Crown: "Cyrus . . . is more famous for his Virtue, than his Power." Penn, No Cross, No Crown (York, England: William Sessions Trust, 1982), Chapter XIX, Section 1, p. 293.

4Isaiah 45:1, 4-5; Interpreters' Dictionary of the Bible, "anointed."

5Laurie Goodstein, "Zoroastrians Keep the Faith and Keep Dwindling," New York Times, Sept. 6, 2006, http://www.nytimes.com/2006/09/06/us/06faith.html.

6A Chinese journalist quotes Nazari as saying, "according to Shi'ite ideology, women are completely free to study, work and choose their husbands . . . Iranian women are actually in a `very good situation,' but their veils might give foreigners the wrong idea." This was very similar to what he said to our group. Yan Wei, "Vitality Under Veils: Iranian women enjoy the freedom to study, work and marry, but not what to wear," Beijing Review.com.cn, Dec. 2, 2008, http://www.bjreview.com.cn/exclusive/txt/2008-12/02 /content_167684.htm (accessed Sept. 12, 2010).

7Juan Cole, "Top Ways 9/11 Broke Islamic Law," posted Sept. 11, 2010, http://www.juancole.com/ (accessed Sept. 13, 2010). Cole quotes the first Muslim caliph, Abu Bakr, as giving these instructions to his armies: "Do not kill women, children, the old, or the infirm."

8In 2005, when Nazari was a university professor at Tabriz, Radio Free Europe reported that he gave a talk at a conference honoring Palestinian female suicide bombers. According to their report, he stated that "the `tactic of sacrifice' is the only way to confront Israel. He also criticized al-Qaeda's suicide bombings as religiously improper. Afterward, volunteers signed up." While I confess that I find this terse report of the Tabriz conference to be disturbing, I recognize that I am reacting less to the words Nazari is said to have spoken than to the context in which those words were spoken. His condemnation of al-Qaeda was similar in the Tabriz conference to what I and my friends had heard from him about al-Qaeda. His praise of martyrdom is a standard, indeed central, element of Shi'ite Islam theology. Christians and Jews highly honor martyrs as well, so it is a feature of all of the Abrahamic religions. In this speech, he did make explicit his support for the Palestinian cause, something left implicit when talking to our group. "RFE/RL Iran Report: A Weekly Review of Developments In and Pertaining to Iran," 15 August 2005, Vol. 8, No. 32, http://www.globalsecurity.org/wmd/library/news/iran/2005/32-150805.htm (accessed Sept. 12, 2010).

9 Juan Cole, "Top Things you think you know about Iran that are not true," Oct. 1, 2009, http://www.juancole.com/2009/10/top-things-you-think-you-know-about.html.

10Parisa Hafezi and Firouz Sedarat, "Ahmadinejad says Holocaust a Lie, Israel has no Future," http://www.reuters.com/article/idUSTRE58H17S20090918.

11See http://www.juancole.com/2009/10/top-things-you-think-you-know-about.html.

12The first written account that survives of these traditions held by Persian Jews comes from a twelfth century C.E. travelogue by Benjamin of Tudela. Encyclopedia Judaica, (2nd ed.) s.v. "Shushtar," by Amnon Netzer; "Hamadan," by Amnon Netzer: see also Richard Gottheil and Eduard Konig, Jewish Encylopedia, 1906, cited in http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tomb_of_Daniel (accessed Sept. 14, 2010).

13 H. E. Chelabi, "Religious Apartheid in Iran," in The Middle East Institute Viewpoints: The Iranian Revolution at 30 (Washington, D.C.: Middle East Institute, 2009), 120, www.mideasti.org.

14Parts of this section are adapted from my article, "Whither Islam in Iran?" published in ESR Reports 11:2 (Spring 2010): 4-5.

15Bahman Baktiari, "Iranian Society: A Surprising Picture," The Middle East Institute Viewpoints: The Iranian Revolution at 30 (Washington, D.C.: Middle East Institute, 2009), 80-81, www.mideasti.org; Bob Smietani, "New study confirms that we go to church much less than we say, " Christianity Today, April 1, 2006, http://www.christianitytoday.com/ct/2006/april/32.85.html?start=1(accessed Sept. 13, 2010).

16Quran 2:256 states that "There shall be no compulsion in religion." William Penn says much that is similar; e.g., persecutors "subvert all true religion; for where men believe not because it is True, but because they are required to do so, there they will unbelieve, not because `tis False, but because [they are] so commanded by the Superiors, whose authority their Interest and Security oblige them to obey, then dispute." "Great Case of Liberty of Conscience," Collection of the Works of William Penn, ed. Joseph Besse (London, 1726), I, 451 (available on-line in the Digital Quaker Collection).

17Hafez, Divan, 15, trans. Herman Bickwell. From Ismail Salami, ed., The Divan of Hafiz (Tehran: Gooya Art House, 2007).


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