2022/07/20

A Quaker Approach to Living with Dying - Friends Journal

A Quaker Approach to Living with Dying - Friends Journal

A Quaker Approach to Living with Dying
August 1, 2017

By Katherine Jaramillo


Photo © Martin Kelley.
I’ve been present with hundreds of people as they’ve died, hundreds more who were already dead by the time I was paged, and hundreds more who were in their dying process. I’ve accompanied spouses, parents, children, friends and family members as they’ve experienced the horror and sorrow of grief. For the past 20 years, I’ve been a chaplain, mostly in hospitals, a few with hospice. In doing this work, I’ve crossed death’s path more often than I can count as I’ve zigzagged my way through the hospital corridors and in the homes of folks experiencing the last days, weeks, months of life. Those of us on the interdisciplinary healthcare team struggle, as best we can, to provide our dying patients with a “good death,” however they and their families define such. There’s a saying in healthcare, “People die as they have lived.” Sometimes that is not the case, but, more often than not, that’s the way it goes.

Often, Quakerism is defined as a way of life. Some questions that I have carried for years in the ministry of chaplaincy include the following:

What does our Quaker faith and spirituality offer us as we face decline, diminishment, and death?
What can we say, as Quakers, with regard to dying and death as a personal and spiritual experience?
Is there a Quaker way of dying? How do we, as Quakers, do this?
My formative experience with regard to the Quaker way of dying was by accompanying a Friend through her decline and death. Her final illness, dying process, and death were Quaker community and meeting experiences. Her experience wasn’t a private or family-only affair. When she couldn’t come to meeting, small groups of Friends were dispatched to her home, hospital, or nursing facility to have meeting for worship with her. Friends from meeting stayed with her overnight in the hospital when she had to be on the breathing machine and was so uncomfortable and scared. She had a committee of trusted Friends who arranged for her practical needs when she was still able to live independently, including staying with her 24/7 when just home from the hospital and at times of extreme debility. These Friends helped with discernment regarding transition from independent living to a skilled nursing facility. In what turned out to be her final hospitalization, these Friends helped her discern her choice to decline heroic life-sustaining treatment and allow herself a natural death. Friends reflected with her about her desire for integrity and living in alignment with the testimonies, her beliefs about an afterlife. She was afforded the opportunity, though her Quaker way of living, to proceed to a Quaker way of dying. One First Day, as we knew death was approaching, our meeting of about 80 Friends decided to meet in a hospital conference room for worship. About halfway into the worship hour, a Friend came downstairs to announce our Friend’s death. It was a gathered meeting. Our Friend died the way she had lived.

Last year, desiring conversation on these questions, I facilitated an interest group I called “The Quaker Art of Dying” at the Pacific Northwest Quaker Women’s Theology Conference. The conference brings women together from the divergent Friends traditions in the Pacific Northwest, primarily from Canadian, North Pacific, and Northwest Yearly Meetings, as well as other independent meetings and churches, to articulate our faith and to learn from each other. The group was well attended and diverse. I presented three queries to the group for discussion. We broke into small groups each taking one of the queries, then reconvened into the large group to get the bigger picture.

What is a Quaker approach to declining health, dying, and death?
Friends reported their understanding that all life is sacred and Spirit informs all life. A Quaker approach would be a mindful, conscious, and prepared approach, with an excitement—or at least a willingness—to enter the mystery of death. It was agreed that a Quaker approach would involve less denial that someone is dying or that death is imminent. There is a value for listening, hearing one another’s experiences, and entering new situations with curiosity, not offering answers. Especially for Liberal Friends, but for some Evangelical Friends as well, there was less focus on an afterlife. A Quaker approach would be a well-ordered approach, with orderly records, legal documents, and final letters and lists of wishes. Friends agreed that cremation was customary and in alignment with Quaker values. The writing of a memorial minute was another Quaker tradition to document the passing of a Quaker life. As one Friend stated, “The Quaker approach is portable; you can take the heart of the Quaker way wherever it needs to go.”

How do our beliefs, testimonies, and values inform our approach to the end of life?
Friends agreed in their understandings that we have a direct connection with the Divine. Some Friends voiced a lack of fear about death. Others voiced fears about the decline of physical and cognitive abilities and the actual process of dying, such as the possibility of pain, loss of competence, being a curmudgeon, or depleting family resources. One Friend likened the burdens of dying to birthing: “Both are hard work.” Friends agreed that upholding the dying person in community benefits the community as well as dying person. Friends voiced an intention to allow support and presence of others as we approach the end of life, as well as taking all the alone time we need.

How can we prepare for death? Our own and that of our loved ones? A list emerged.
We need to:

Pray.
Think about what we want.
Talk about what we want, even though it is difficult, especially with our children.
Talk about what others want.
Talk with our families about our wishes.
Pray some more.
Deal with unfinished business—either finishing it or leaving it unfinished, but dealing with it intentionally.
Educate ourselves about health decline and the dying process by reading books like Atul Gawande’s Being Mortal.
Talk with our spouses or significant others, about things we’ll need to know if they can’t tell us themselves for whatever reason.
Prepare for the process:
Who do we want involved? Who do we not want involved? Do we want a care committee or not?
How do we want our remains disposed? Do we prefer cremation or burial? If we want to be cremated, do we want our remains to be scattered, interred, or buried?
What do we want for a memorial or funeral?
Do we want an obituary; a eulogy? What would we want said in our memorial minute?
We need to help meetings and churches be prepared for the decline, debility and deaths of their members and attenders.
Keep praying.
This conversation continues. In a recent meeting of our Quaker women’s discussion group, I facilitated a robust discussion about a Quaker approach to end-of-life issues and posed similar queries to the group. Evangelical Friends spoke of the “continuum of life” that transcends death, the need for “being right with God,” and the peace that “being with Jesus” will bring. Liberal Friends spoke of “entering the mystery” and “going into the Light.” There seemed to be agreement and assurance that “all will be well” at the end of physical life. Some women focused on the need to enter this time of life with their “affairs in order.” Other women spoke of their experiences accompanying a dying person in their meeting or church or in their own families. All seemed to enjoy the discussion of “things we don’t usually get to talk about” and voiced an intention to encourage further discussion in our churches and meetings. Later this month, I will attend my own meeting’s retreat where the topic will be “Spirituality As We Age.” No doubt, we will be continuing the discussion of how we Quakers intend to die as we have lived.

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Katherine Jaramillo
Katherine Jaramillo is a staff chaplain at Legacy Good Samaritan Medical Center in Portland, Ore. She has worked in healthcare chaplaincy for 20 years. She is a member of Bridge City Meeting in Portland.

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9 thoughts on “A Quaker Approach to Living with Dying”

Karen Modell
August 3, 2017 at 2:56 pm
Nicely put Friend Kate. Complaining each other on the final journey is one of the most important actions we take together as Friends.

Reply


Gwendolyn Giffen
August 4, 2017 at 9:10 am
I also have seen many, many people die, but from the other side of the bed. For the past 20 years, I have worked as a registered nurse. I grew up a Quaker, and my mother was a recorded Quaker minister. This past autumn, she slowly declined after breast cancer cells that were resistant to chemotherapy, took off through her body like a drug resistant organism, and took over her liver and bones. In December, she died with with her husband and I at her side. For 20 years, I have worked with the other nurses and aids who turn, reposition, clean, medicate, and attend to the bodily needs of the dying. Those caregivers suffer spiritually, and immensely. They usually do not have the freedom or energy to attend church, and they become very disillusioned with many forms of religion. As I helped my own mother go through the dying process, I felt frustrated with the lack of integration between those attending to her spiritual needs, and those attending to her physical needs. She was a very involved person. So there was a bit of overkill from the spiritual community, while my niece and I, and sometimes my brother and two aunts for short periods of time, attended to her physical needs, in an intense and demanding sharing of shift-work between just a few people. Hospice gave us a couple of hours a week of reprieve, but they were not by far the backbone of her direct care. I truly became quietly sick and disgusted with all of the ministers and friends coming to pray with her by the end. I smiled at everyone, hugged people, but inside, the frustration with it was building.This feeling may have been misplaced and misguided, but I’ve had months now to think about it. We all have different roles in caregiving. We really do. I’ve only brought myself to go to my Friends meeting twice since she died, and it has been fulfilling when I went. But I can’t deal with the belly-fuzz picking, and I probably will not be able to for a very long time, if ever. I suppose that it is important for the people going through it, to dwelll and discuss personal issues. Direct caregivers only really have each other, and on-the-fly, in reality. I truly wish I could pick my own belly fuzz, but there isn’t time, and I don’t have the patience. There is just too much to do, and not enough people doing it. I’d like for everyone to receive the care my mother received, at home, as she died. But I know that most Quakers will not be able to do that. I know that my own family will not. I know that a minister might give me a little comfort, but when I am dying, please, plenty of pillows, and keep me clean and dry. And buy me frozen mocha latte’s at McDonalds every day.

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Barbs
August 6, 2017 at 2:05 am
Hope you get what you want and need, Gwendolyn. Same for all of us. Good post. Thank you.

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Marilyn Laforest
August 6, 2017 at 10:39 am
The greatest gift:another human being allowing you to administer to them in their dying. Feels like one foot in heaven and your heart is full.

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Penn
August 9, 2017 at 4:31 pm
How do Quakers feel about green burial instead of cremation?

Reply

A Mysticism for Our Time - Friends Journal

A Mysticism for Our Time - Friends Journal

A Mysticism for Our Time
September 1, 2017

By L. Roger Owens

Rediscovering the spiritual writings of Thomas R. Kelly

Thomas R. Kelly, “The Record of the Class of 1914.” Courtesy of Quaker and Special Collections, Haverford College, Haverford, Pa.
While doing doctoral studies at Harvard in 1931, Thomas R. Kelly, a Quaker and author of the spiritual classic A Testament of Devotion, wrote to a friend and offered an assessment of famed British mathematician Bertrand Russell. He said that Russell seemed to him like an “intellectual monastic,” fleeing to the safety of pure logic to avoid the “infections of active existence” and the “sordid rough-and-tumble of life.”

When studying the papers of Kelly at Haverford College outside of Philadelphia, cocooned in the safety of the library’s special collections room the week after the presidential election, I was struck by this remark about Russell. I realized that many have leveled the same charge against mystics like Kelly himself. They are the ones, the story goes, who flee into an interior world of spiritual experience to escape the rough-and-tumble of actual existence.

The suggestion is not unfounded. Kelly’s thinking about mysticism was carried out under the long shadow of psychologist and philosopher William James: Kelly worked with James’s understanding of mysticism as the experience of the solitary individual. Kelly was also writing in the period following Evelyn Underhill’s influential Mysticism—its twelfth edition published during the years he was at Harvard—in which she writes that introversion is the “characteristic mystic art” that aids a contemplative in the “withdrawal of attention from the external world.”

That Kelly might be branded, then, a guide to the experiences of the inner life alone seems reasonable. My research has caused me to rethink this assessment; now I see Kelly as a mystic whose life is one of commitment to the world, not escape from it. And he can be a resource for those of us searching for a worldly engaged spirituality.

owen-4owen-2owen-3
Istarted reading Kelly when I was 32. I remember this when seeing the mark I made in the biographical introduction to A Testament of Devotion of what Kelly was doing when he was 32. Because I wanted to explore the inner life of prayer he wrote about and lived, I was as drawn to the story of his life as I was to his writings.

A lifelong Quaker, Kelly was academically ambitious, driven, convinced that success as an academic philosopher would ensure he mattered. He received a doctorate from Hartford Theological Seminary in 1924 and began teaching at Earlham College in Indiana. But he pined for the rarefied intellectual atmosphere and prestige of an elite East Coast college. In 1930 he began work on a second doctorate at Harvard, assuming this would be his ticket east. But when he appeared for the oral defense of his dissertation in 1937, he suffered an anxiety attack; his mind went blank. Harvard refused to let him try again.

 

This failure proved the turning point in his life. It thrust him into a deep depression; his wife feared he might be suicidal. It also occasioned his most profound mystical experience, and he emerged a few months later settled, having been, as he put it in a letter to his wife, “much shaken by an experience of Presence.”

His friend Douglas Steere, a colleague at Haverford where Kelly was teaching at the time (he made it back east), summarized how many perceived the fruit of Kelly’s experience: “[A] strained period in his life was over. He moved toward adequacy. A fissure in him seemed to close, cliffs caved in and filled a chasm, and what was divided grew together within him.”

Three years later Thomas Kelly, 47 years old, died suddenly while washing dishes. The essays published in A Testament of Devotion were written in those few years between the fissures closing and his death. He died not only a scholar who wrote about mysticism, but a mystic himself, who knew firsthand that experience of spiritual solitude purported to be the essence of religion.

Far from sinking into the solitude of mystical bliss after emerging into his new, centered life, he promptly made an exhausting three-month trip to Germany in the summer of 1938, where he lectured, gave talks at German Quaker meetings, and ministered to the Quakers there who were suffering under Hitler.

The purpose of Kelly’s trip to Germany was to deliver the annual Richard Cary Lecture at the yearly meeting of German Friends. His letters home detail his painstaking preparation. He met frequently with his translator, working through the manuscript for several hours a day to render it in German. In a tribute to Kelly that was sent to his wife following his death, his translator—a Quaker woman of Jewish ancestry—said that his presence and his message were what the German Friends needed in “a time of increasing anxiety and hopelessness.”

 

From the beginning of the lecture, Kelly’s florid language is on display: he comes across as an evangelist for mystical experience, the “inner presence of the Divine Life.” His purpose is to witness to the inner experience of this divine life, this “amazing, glorious, triumphant, and miraculously victorious way of life.” He’s not offering an argument for it, or a psychology of it, following James, but a description resting upon experience.

Importantly, early on, he rejects any notion that this is a merely otherworldly experience. (In the published version of this lecture more than 20 years after its delivery, Kelly’s son cut out this section, maybe because it’s technically denser than the rest or maybe because it didn’t fit the mold of relevance for spiritual writing.) Kelly believed that the Social Gospel Movement of his time had too narrow a horizon, having bracketed out the persuading, wooing power of the Eternal. It is the one place, he noted, that he agrees with theologian Karl Barth. On the other hand, the experience he’s describing does not issue in withdrawal or flight from the world. “For,” as he puts it, “the Eternal is in Time, breaking into Time, underlying Time.” In fact, the mystical opening to an eternal “Beyond” opens simultaneously to a second beyond: “the world of earthly need and pain and joy and beauty.” There is no either-or.

This is precisely the place where Kelly’s experience makes all the difference. His weeks in Germany brought him into contact with many Quakers. He saw how they were at once struggling to live under the Nazi regime in fear, anxiety, and material want while also serving their suffering neighbors.

We learn this in a 22-page letter he wrote near the end of his trip. (Kelly spent two days in France in order to write and send home this frank letter describing the situation in Germany, fearing his letters sent from Germany were being read.) He notes in the letter that though Germany is “spruced up, slicked up,” its soul echoes hollow. If you were not a Nazi, you were always afraid, he wrote, because there’s “no law by which the police are governed.” He expresses amazement at the difficulty of getting good information, lamenting the lack of a free press because of the government’s stretching its “tentacles” deep in every news source. “There are many, many,” he writes, “who pay no attention to the newspapers. Why would they?”

But he puts a human face on these generalizations. He tells the story of a man who wouldn’t pay into a Nazi-run community fund because he was caring for the wife and children of a man in a concentration camp. This man lost his job and was also sent to a concentration camp. He expresses disgust at the signs everywhere that say “No Jews!” He writes about the courage some people display in not saying “Heil Hitler,” and the crushing blow it is to the conscience of those who do say it because they have children to feed and fear retribution. “It’s all crazy, isn’t it?” he writes. “But it’s real.”

He realizes he can’t ignore this suffering, even as he reflects on returning to the relatively safe, comfortable suburbs of Philadelphia and to his position at Haverford College. God hadn’t just shown himself to Kelly in a solitary moment of mystical experience, for as he says, “The suffering of the world is a part, too, of the life of God, and so maybe, after all, it is a revelation,” a revelation he knew couldn’t leave him unchanged.

This letter describes the context in which he gave the Cary Lecture. He believed these German Friends needed to hear both the message of the possibility of a vibrant inner life, and also how this inner life invites them into a sacrificial bearing of the burdens of their neighbors and a continued search for joy, the divine glory shimmering in the midst of sorrow.

And now we must say—it sounds blasphemous, but mystics are repeatedly charged with blasphemy—now we must say it is given to us to see the world’s suffering, throughout, and bear it, God-like, upon our shoulders, and suffer with all things and all men, and rejoice with all things and all men, and we see the hills clap their hands for joy, and we clap our hands with them.

A decade ago when I read passages like this in A Testament of Devotion, the admonitions seemed tame, tinged with poetic excess. When I read this today, knowing the context of its writing, I see it differently: it’s a summons to a vocation, the vocation of seeing and acting as one in the world settled in God, open both to the deepest pain and the hidden beauty in the midst of suffering—a call to service and to faith.

The very day I was reading this lecture, holding the 80-year-old, yellowing pages in my hands, students at Haverford College were walking out of their classes in solidarity with their classmates who have lived most of their lives in this country, though illegally, to protest President Donald Trump’s proposed immigration policies. Similar walkouts were occurring on campuses across the country. That same week, Haverford students were in downtown Philadelphia protesting the police brutality they expect to continue under a Trump “law-and-order” administration.

 

Kelly’s lecture and letter resonate with these current events, not because of parallels between Nazi Germany and the victory of Trump—some have tried to make them, but that’s not my point. Rather, it is the suffering caused by fear (the fear immigrants, African Americans, Muslims, and refugees feel) that Kelly’s spirituality of a dual beyond—the Eternal Beyond, and the beyond within of suffering and joy—might prove able to guide us through, whenever such fear occurs. Just as Kelly’s presence and message were what the German Quakers needed to hear in their time of “increasing anxiety and hopelessness,” so too might the same message be needed in ours.

But this wisdom is useless if it’s not made concrete. There is no “suffering with all” in general, only concrete commitments to this or that person, this or that situation. Kelly knows this, and his most important point in the lecture is the exploration of the load-bearing wall of Quaker spirituality: the concern. A concern names the way a “cosmic suffering” and a “cosmic burden-bearing” become particular in actual existence. A concern names a “particularization”—one of Kelly’s favorite words—of God’s own care for a suffering world in the concrete reality of the life of this person, of this community. It is a “narrowing of the Eternal Imperative to a smaller group of tasks, which become uniquely ours.”

The Quakers in Germany can’t bear the burdens of all of Germany. But, when sensitized to the Spirit, they could discern how God’s care for the world could be made concrete, particular in their life together: in this caring for a neighbor, in this act of resistance, in this fleeting sharing in joy.

While he was reminding those German Quakers of something at the heart of their spirituality, he offered the rest of us a way out of the sense of being overwhelmed when we view the world’s suffering as a whole. “Again and again Friends have found springing up a deep-rooted conviction of responsibility for some specific world-situation.” For Kelly, mysticism included ineffable, inner experience, but also included a sense of the Eternal’s own turning in love toward the world, made concrete in particular lives and communities.

 

Ileft Haverford with these thoughts distilled into one word as I made my way back to my own community of Pittsburgh, a word that I knew, but Kelly gave to me anew: “discernment.” This is the word I want to carry, to offer to my church, the seminary where I teach, to all those who wonder how to live in the midst of suffering and fear—with the occasional upshot of joy. Discernment. How will God make concrete, particular, in my life, in my church community’s life, God’s own concern for the marginalized, displaced, and discriminated against? How will the mystical become flesh-and-blood in life’s rough-and-tumble, here and now, as it so longs to do?

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L. Roger Owens
L. Roger Owens teaches spirituality and ministry at Pittsburgh Theological Seminary and is the author of What We Need Is Here: Practicing the Heart of Christian Spirituality.

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6 thoughts on “A Mysticism for Our Time”

Laura Dodson
September 2, 2017 at 12:07 am
Thank you. I have worked before fall of communism in Russia and since with beautiful human beings suffering from oppression of their country. I have seen them re- find their soul and come “home” to their spirit. Now I am entering old age, though still working to in the south of Thailand with children who have seen their parent killed by drive by shooters, and I am helping Thai’s to work with these people. I am constantly moving between a suffering world and being a mystic in retreat, and aging is moving me toward the quiet inner life……I am so enriched by your writing and happy that it will continue.

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Laura Dodson
September 2, 2017 at 12:18 am
Thank you. I am enriched by your writing and happy it will continue. I know the journey as a long time Quaker working in Soviet countries for years on recovery from oppression and now in South Thailand with children who have seen their parent killed by drive by shooters.

Now I have moved from 57 years in Colorado at Mt. View friends in Denver for many of those years, as I am aging, husband has died and I spend half year with son and his young family in Plummer, MN where he is a minister, struggling with spiritual in the church, and I live in winter in in Austin, TX with my sister where I hope to be with Quakers there. How I miss our community in Denver. Now I am moving from active work in the world to more inner life and body limitations that require more quiet time, writing, and soul time. So, fellow journeyer, I am so glad to renew my connection with Kelly and to connect with your journey. Thank you

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Kathleen B Wilson
October 11, 2017 at 12:05 pm
I am sincerely grateful to Roger Owens for his concise, studied discussion of the mysticism of Thomas Kelly and for the much needed understanding it provides. Highly relevant for these times, his article is indeed cause for rediscovery of Kelly’s spiritual writing.

To that same end, I have written the free online pamphlet Life from the Center: The Message and Life of Quaker Thomas Kelly, available at quakerthomaskelly.org. The pamphlet introduces A Testament of Devotion (TD) and The Eternal Promise (EP) through excerpts from the two books, organized by topic, and through a brief biography.

Since first learning in 2009 of Thomas Kelly (and then finding Friends), I have been caught up nearly every morning in the message Kelly shares and in passing it on. It calls me to the center and endlessly keeps giving.

While reading TD and trying to grasp so much that was new to me, I started copying excerpts verbatim and arranging the sentences in phrases. That arrangement helped me to savor each word and phrase and happened also to highlight the poetic feel of Kelly’s prose. Early on I felt drawn to put on the internet those copied excerpts that later became Life from the Center and to make that introduction accessible and free to anyone, worldwide.

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Rebecca Cole-Turner
February 19, 2018 at 8:55 am
Thanks so much for this, Roger. His phrase, “the divine glory simmering in the midst of sorrow,” will stay with me. . .

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Rebecca Cole-Turner
February 19, 2018 at 8:56 am
Make that “shimmering!” Although “shimmering isn’t bad either!

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Rebecca Cole-Turner
February 19, 2018 at 9:00 am
Somehow autocorrect must be attempting to foil me!

The above should read, “although ‘simmering’ isn’t bad either!”

Reply

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Mystical Experience, the Bedrock of Quaker Faith - Friends Journal

Mystical Experience, the Bedrock of Quaker Faith - Friends Journal

Mystical Experience, the Bedrock of Quaker Faith
February 1, 2017

By Robert Atchley

© Mopic
© Mopic
Mystical experience is direct experience of God. Quaker silence is an invitation to experience that of God within ourselves, and indeed within the entire perceivable universe. George Fox felt that we should “walk cheerfully over the earth, answering that of God in every person.” He also said, “Be staid in the principle of God in thee . . . that thou wilt find Him to be a God at hand.”

Rufus Jones (1863–1948) was arguably the foremost Quaker scholar, writer, and advocate of opening to mystical experience as a central practice among Friends. He built on foundations laid by Meister Eckhart, the anonymous author of The Cloud of Unknowing, William James, and many other Christian mystics—people who had had direct experiences of God and tried to describe them. Jones concluded that the founders of most great religions of the world got their spiritual understanding through mystical experience. The Hebrew Bible and the New Testament are filled with reports of direct experiences of God. Mystical experience “makes God sure to the person who has had the experience,” wrote Jones.

Jones cautioned against using the term “mysticism.” Each seeker of “God within” is confronted by a unique personal and cultural labyrinth that he or she must negotiate to directly experience God. Because each path is different, it is impossible “to make an ism out of” the journey to experience God. But perhaps we can agree that we seek direct experience of “the Divine Ground of All Being”—the term Christian theologian Paul Tillich used for the transcendent Holy Spirit. Perhaps we can agree that we are all dancing around a divine Light that eludes naming. Jones also pointed out that we are seeking our own direct experiences of God, not “second-hand descriptions” of mystical experiences in books and scriptures. However beautiful and uplifting Eckhart’s descriptions of his direct experiences of God might be, we cannot have his experience. We can only have our own.

 

Most mystics report experiencing God as immanent: God is here and now—palpably present to be experienced. God is also experienced as transcendent. God is infinite and therefore beyond our ability to completely perceive or understand, or even denote. But for many mystics, God’s infinite awareness can be intuited and is a super-magnet that can draw us out of our conventional personal and culture-bound consciousness and into a non-personal awareness that allows us to see with “eyes unclouded by fear or longing.” This is the vantage of the sage mystics who have many years’ experience viewing the world from a non-personal viewpoint. Sages have many years of practice abiding in a field that transcends our earthly concerns, yet sages also experience compassion and love for those—including the sages themselves—who endure the suffering involved in living a human life.

Is mystical experience rare? Apparently it is not. According to Jones, mystical experience is widely available, if we are tuned in to it. He wrote that “many people have had this vital experience.” God is everywhere we look, if we know how to look. In my 30 years of research on spirituality and aging, I found that many types of situations can evoke an experience of God within. Being in nature, meditation, contemplative waiting, religious rituals, singing hymns, reading sacred texts, and service to others are but a few of the situations in which people find themselves in touch with God within.

 

Among Friends, mystical experiences during meeting for worship are common, but only a minority of these experiences leads to vocal ministry. Why? Many times the experience is not in the form of words, and putting it into words is daunting. Often, direct experience of God is ineffable. As Eckhart noted, “As one’s awareness approaches the wilderness of the Godhead, no one is home.” Tillich called the Supreme Being “the God beyond God,” meaning that there is a field of Being beyond our personified God—the God who resembles us and speaks to us in our language. Tillich called this transcendent God “the Divine Ground of All Being.” Hindus call it “the Great Sea of Being.” The enormity of the Ground of All Being is very awe-inspiring and humbling to experience, yet it is comforting to abide in this field of ultimate, limitless Being.

Is there a knowledge element to mystical experience? Jones suggested in his book The Radiant Life that we use our experience as a guide for answering this question for ourselves. If we begin with questioning if there is “an intelligent, creative, organizing center of consciousness [that] transcends itself and knows what is beyond itself” and if our experience gives us a definite yes to that question, then we know and understand in a way that is guided and informed by mystical experience of God.

Jones wrote: “Spiritual ministry, in this or any age, comes through a prepared person who has been learning how to catch the mind of spirit, and how to speak to the condition of the age.” I wrote song lyrics that relate to this point: It takes practice to feel that deep connection as the havoc of this world goes on and on. Soul-centered life has a deep attraction that ever draws me back for more and more.

 

We often need help in recognizing what we are seeing. Ken Wilber, in his book Eye to Eye, points out three main ways of knowing, or “eyes”: the eye of the flesh—sensory knowing; the eye of the mind—our dualistic cognitive processes of acquiring language, ideas, and meaning; and the eye of contemplation—our holistic, integral capacity to abide in non-doing. Each of these eyes has its injunction (if you do this), illumination (you may see that), and method of confirmation (knowing you really saw that). For Quaker contemplative knowing, “waiting upon the Lord” is the injunction, direct experience of God (mystical experience) is the illumination, and discernment is the confirmation. When Friends agree that someone is a “weighty Quaker,” the community’s discernment is confirming the validity of that Friend’s contemplative understanding.

 

Quaker spiritual practice involves much contemplative waiting, not waiting for something, but simply waiting. The region of my awareness where I have most often had direct experiences of God is deep, inner space. When I sit in meeting, I release into that space. Of course, my mind sometimes has stuff it is processing, and when that stuff arises, I release it. Over and over, I release. After a time, I am able to release into abiding in the vastness of inner space, where I experience God. I feel God’s palpable presence. I feel God drawing my awareness to a non-personal, transcendent level.

In his Discourse on Thinking, Martin Heidegger distinguished two very different types of thinking: calculative and contemplative. Calculative thinking is preoccupied with the surface of thinking and a thinking process aimed at dominating and manipulating situations and “re-presenting” or constructing experiences and stories. Contemplative thinking is deep thinking. It “contemplates the meaning that reigns in everything that is.” Contemplative thinking requires that we develop the art of waiting. “Contemplative thought does not grasp the essence but rather releases into the essence.” Contemplative waiting is a practice of remaining open to experiencing God.

Friends who have waited together for decades often reflect this openness. They are secure in their faith because they have met God countless times along the way. Some of these meetings were dramatic experiences, and some were ordinary. These Friends are confident of God’s presence, even though this presence is revealed in different ways to different people. In my experience, the sages in our midst understand each other, often without much talk, because their mystical experiences over the years have been shared and are similar enough to be taken as roughly equivalent. There is not much vying or trying or hair-splitting among sages; they have released into the Divine Ground of All Being, where they increasingly abide. This does not mean that they are detached from the world—far from it. It simply means that they are aware of the deeper backdrop, the Divine Ground of All Being, as they play their part in everyday life.

The transcendent knowing that comes with spiritual maturity does not mean turning one’s back on prior stages of development. Wilber wrote that we “transcend and include.” Our transcendent, non-personal consciousness includes a deeply reflected upon version of what came before in our personal evolution. In most cases, this “transcend and include” process is conducive to a forgiving and accepting stance toward the earlier self.

At the start of their conscious spiritual journeys toward God, people often have immature faith that needs nurture and protection in the form of study, structured practice, and supportive community. As they grow more comfortable with their direct experiences of God, study becomes a reward and stimulus for openness. Structure becomes more utilitarian and less a means of protection. Community centers in the One.

From its beginnings, Quaker faith and practice has assumed that we are created with the capacity to influence our evolving experiential relationship with God. We are not passive, empty vessels hoping to be filled. We have to move toward God, be open to God, be willing to meet God, and be guided by our experiences of God. For me, this has been a recurring feedback loop. I act from the non-personal, loving vantage that comes from connection with the Great Sea of Being. I observe the results of this enlightened action, which have always been vastly superior to the results of actions taken from a purely personal vantage. I am affirmed in my connection with God and that connection’s influence on my capacity to see things more clearly than I could from a limited personal viewpoint. All this takes place with awareness of the Ground of All Being in the background.

Trusting this process required practicing it over and over. The proof is in the pudding. Of course, all my words are merely “fingers pointing at the moon.” They are not the moon. You have to see the moon for yourself.

 

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Robert Atchley
Robert Atchley is a member of Boulder (Colo.) Meeting. He is author of Spirituality and Aging, which won the Innovative Publication Award from the Gerontological Society of America in 2010. This article is based on a program hour presented to Boulder Meeting in November 2015.

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4 thoughts on “Mystical Experience, the Bedrock of Quaker Faith”

Shelia Bumgarner
February 6, 2017 at 8:07 pm
Beautifully and succinctly written.

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Robin Dopson
February 7, 2017 at 5:13 pm
I love this word to the wise. “Fingers pointing at the moon”

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Maureen white
August 9, 2019 at 1:50 am
Clearly expressed thank you

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Ric Lutz
March 22, 2020 at 3:09 pm
Sometimes we need to reminded rather than taught. Thank you for this valuable reminder.

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What People Really Want from Church and Quaker Meeting

What People Really Want from Church and Quaker Meeting

What People Really Want from Church and Quaker Meeting
August 1, 2018

By Donald W. McCormick


© spinyant
Ideeply love Quakerism and don’t want it to die out, but the number of North American Quakers has been steadily decreasing for three decades. According to statistics from Friends World Committee for Consultation, Quaker membership in the United States and Canada grew modestly over the middle part of the twentieth century to peak at 139,200 in 1987. The latest Quaker census in 2017 counted 81,392 U.S. and Canadian Friends, a loss of over 40 percent. A report published by Earlham School of Religion in 2005 concluded, “If these downward trends in the Society’s membership were to continue unchecked, American Quakers would become extinct sometime late in the twenty-first century.”

We can reverse this downward trend, and this is likely to involve learning from the experience of other churches. A good tool for doing this is the Reveal for Church survey: an extremely large survey of over 2,000 churches and 500,000 congregants. (To find out more about this survey, go to revealforchurch.com or listen to their podcast.)

What do people want from church?
At the core of the survey is an important question: What do people want from church? The answer to this is key to understanding why people join a church. The respondents’ answers are inspiring. Fifty-four percent said that the thing they most want is spiritual guidance, and over 30 percent said they want fellowship.

The survey defined a church that offers spiritual guidance as one that does the following:

provides a clear pathway that helps guide congregants’ spiritual growth
challenges congregants to grow and take next steps
has church leaders who model and consistently reinforce how to grow spiritually
helps congregants to understand the Bible in depth
helps congregants to develop a personal relationship with Christ
Churches that provided this were generally vibrant and had high levels of congregant satisfaction.

When I read this, I asked myself if we Quakers are providing the equivalent of this type of spiritual guidance. Do newcomers and others see us as meeting their spiritual needs? If they do, do they see this right away, or does it take a while? To answer these questions, I had to learn more about the “clear pathway” that the Reveal literature described. Although Quakerism has great wisdom in the area of spiritual guidance, at first it seemed that it was inconsistent with the spiritual guidance described in the survey. I thought of how listening to and heeding the Spirit may lead one Quaker to refuse to pay any taxes that contribute to war and another to become an army chaplain. It didn’t seem like we Quakers were following one clear pathway. Also, my initial understanding of the Reveal survey model of spiritual guidance didn’t fit with the kind of models of lifelong spiritual growth and maturity that I used to cover when I was a professor teaching courses in psychology of religion.

Then I looked more closely at what the Reveal researchers meant by a “clear pathway” and I realized that their idea of it isn’t so much a nuanced model of lifelong spiritual growth as it is something much more basic and doable. It’s the kind of thing that would get you off the runway of the spiritual path and into the air. It isn’t intended to guide your spiritual plane all the way to its destination. Understanding this, I began to see how a Quaker version of this could be crafted.

Classes that challenge you to take the next steps along a clear spiritual pathway
In the survey, churches that provide spiritual guidance communicate the path, the next steps, and the challenges in different ways. The most common model is a set of four afternoon classes that make up what is probably the most popular adult education curriculum in churches today. It comes from a church known for phenomenal growth: Saddleback Church, headquartered in southern California. In 1980, 40 people attended their first worship service; today over 22,000 people attend weekly services.

The first class covers the church, membership, how to live in accordance with God’s purpose, and the church’s plans for the future. At the end of the class, you are challenged to be baptized and to apply for membership.

The second class is about the path of spiritual maturity and techniques for developing four habits needed for spiritual growth (prayer, Bible reading, tithing, and fellowship). After this class, you are challenged to practice these habits.

The third class is about finding your spiritual gifts and choosing how you will use those in ministry, that is, in serving the church and others. At the end, you are challenged to put these into practice.

The fourth class is about evangelism. At the end you are challenged to begin sharing your faith.

The classes constitute a clear pathway that starts with membership and leads to spiritual maturity, ministry, and evangelism. Each time you finish taking a class, you are asked to accept the challenge at the end of it. The next steps involve putting into practice what you just learned and taking the next class.

Fellowship is the other major thing that people want from church. In the churches from the Reveal survey, it is primarily experienced in small groups of eight to ten people who meet weekly to learn about spiritual matters and to get to know fellow parishioners. These groups are places where people know you, know what’s going on in your life, and know what matters to you. If you wind up in the hospital, it’s the members of your small group that come over and visit, that take care of your kids when you’re in there, and that bring you meals while you are still getting back on your feet after having been discharged. And you are glad to do the same for all of them.

The classes described in the Reveal literature get people moving on their spiritual journey quickly. These churches make their expectations clear right away. They let you know that you are expected to embrace Christ (if you haven’t already); join a small group; and to take the classes that show the path, provide you with next steps, and challenge you to grow spiritually

When you do this, you begin to experience the two main things that people want out of church—spiritual guidance and fellowship. This makes people want to keep coming back.

Can Quaker meetings provide this kind of fellowship and spiritual guidance?
How can newcomers to Quakerism experience a similar kind of fellowship and spiritual guidance without watering down the Quaker experience?

One way would be to encourage newcomers to join a small group and take a comparable set of courses. This would involve reorganizing the way that we introduce people to Quakerism, not changing what Quakerism is.

Newcomers could be encouraged to participate in a small group early on. People want a spiritual home where they experience a sense of belonging, where people care about them and they feel like they fit in. In other words, they want real spiritual community. It can be difficult to feel included in a meeting that has long-term social bonds; small groups can help with this. I should point out that in many meetings, we are already providing the kind of fellowship described in the Reveal survey through the excellent Friends General Conference (FGC) Spiritual Deepening program.

Classes that offer a clear pathway, next steps, and challenges
In addition to fellowship, a meeting could offer classes that form a path, that provide next steps, and that offer regular challenges. Below is one possible way of doing that. (I don’t mean this suggestion to be definitive; there are many other ways that these kinds of classes can be organized.)

The first class could provide a short overview of Quakerism as a whole, but spend most of the time on the meaning of meeting for worship and what to do when you’re in it. At the end, participants could be challenged to take the next steps: regular participation in meeting for worship and enrollment in the next class.

The second class could focus on personal spiritual practices such as prayer, meditation, and discernment of leadings. Since the process of discernment can be both individual and corporate, group processes like clearness committees, spiritual accountability groups, and meeting for worship on the occasion of business would also be included. At the end, participants could be challenged to take the next steps: regular engagement in personal spiritual practice, participation in business meeting, and enrollment in the next class.

The third class could be about learning about Quakerism in more depth. It could present some information about Quakerism and offer ways to continue learning about it (e.g., reading Faith and Practice on a regular basis, or participating in quarterly meetings, yearly meetings, the FGC annual gathering, Pendle Hill programs, etc.). At the end, participants could be challenged to commit to some ongoing form of study.

The fourth class could focus on service: serving the meeting (e.g., serving on a committee), directly serving those in need (e.g., feeding the homeless), or activism (e.g., creating systemic change by working for peace, justice, or sustainability). At the end, participants could be challenged to commit to some form of service.

At the end of the four classes that make up this beginner’s path, participants would have most of the tools they need to start living the Quaker life. These are also tools that they can continue to use for the rest of their lives.

Meeting spiritual needs
There is a thirst for greater spirituality in Quaker meetings. I say this for two reasons. The first is because of dissatisfaction with Quaker meetings that have shied away from their spiritual and religious center; this was a common theme in the over 100 online comments about my February Friends Journal article, “Can Quakerism Survive?”

The second reason is that in recent moving and influential speeches, both Parker Palmer and Ben Pink Dandelion called for embracing and communicating the spiritual and religious core of Quakerism.

The model presented here shows one way to help satisfy the spiritual thirst of newcomers by introducing them to the spiritual core and spiritual guidance that they want from a meeting.

People in Quaker meetings and those interested in Quakerism aren’t that different from the people who took the Reveal survey. We Quakers have something to learn from the survey about what people want from church and how to provide it. People may show up at our doors because of various outreach activities, and they may like their initial encounter with Quakerism because various methods from FGC’s Welcoming Meetings program are being used. These are both important, but people won’t keep coming back to meeting if they don’t see how it addresses their needs for spiritual guidance and fellowship. All three activities—outreach, welcoming, and meeting people’s spiritual needs—are essential. If one is missing, the other two won’t get very far. But together, these three activities can defeat the trend of declining membership. Quakerism can grow, and meetings can become more vibrant.

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Donald W. McCormick
Donald W. McCormick, donmccormick2@gmail.com, is a member of Grass Valley Meeting in Nevada City, Calif. He is director of education for Unified Mindfulness, a company that trains mindfulness teachers. The senior editor of Friends Journal described his February article, “Can Quakerism Survive?,” as “the most talked about article in recent history.”

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10 thoughts on “What People Really Want from Church and Quaker Meeting”

Mackenzie
August 1, 2018 at 3:38 pm
I just want to plug a book I read on this topic. It’s called “Simple Church,” by Eric Geiger and Thom Rainer. They studied a whole bunch (maybe 1000?) of churches and found that churches that align their programs with the goal of making disciples grow, and ones that don’t, don’t. Even in declining rural towns, churches that do that grow! I read it a while ago, so it’s not super fresh in my mind, but I think there were even case studies of churches that changed what they were doing and started growing again, after having been stagnant or in decline.

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Joshua Brown
August 5, 2018 at 10:22 am
I greatly enjoyed reading your Friends Journal article, “What People Really Want From Church and Quaker Meeting”. You mention a number of points which I have been trying to get Friends to see for a long time, and some of your conclusions parallel my own research.

A few years ago, I looked at the membership numbers across all yearly meetings belonging to Friends United Meeting from 1906 up until the turn of the century. There are a few dips and surges, but basically I found a straight-line decline over that time period. Over the last 40+ years, it’s been running about 1% per year, which is roughly in line with your figures.

The straight-line nature of the graph says to me that it’s not the fault of any particular yearly meeting, or any individual yearly meeting leadership, but probably something more to do with larger demographics. My best guess is that Quakers have simply failed to reproduce in adequate numbers to offset deaths and departures. This is a well-documented trend affecting many other denominations as well.

One of the other things which came out in my research was that while membership numbers were dropping, actual attendance at meeting for worship has been much more stable. Where membership went down by roughly 40% over 40 years, worship attendance only went down by about 15%.

This says to me that our membership numbers were probably somewhat inflated to begin with. Meetings kept people on the rolls long after they left. I’ve seen this in many local meetings, both pastoral and unprogrammed, in several different yearly meetings where I’ve served, and I expect it’s pretty universal among Friends. We don’t want to drop people who might come back. We don’t want to hurt the feelings of parents and grandparents by dropping their kids who left after high school or college. Ministry and Counsel committees go for 5 or 10 years without housecleaning the membership list.

I’m a little leery of the general population survey done by Reveal for Church which you mention in your article. To some extent, I think that these surveys tend to force the taker into a somewhat predetermined outcome – the questions channel you into a fairly limited number of possible answers. I could be doing them a disservice, but the answers seem a little canned to me. They sound like the kind of results that most evangelical Christians want to hear.

I don’t think that the four points you list are altogether wrong, but I’m not sure they really cover the depth of what either existing members of Friends want, or what potential new members want. I agree that people want something more than what most Quaker meetings offer, and this almost certainly has an impact on our declining numbers.

In many meetings, the losses are gradual, and the additions are also gradual. It’s easy not to notice the change until you look at 4 or 5 years. I always try to get the meetings I serve to look at the net loss or gain in attendance – not always easy, because Quakers tend to view keeping track of attendance as somehow unspiritual. A net loss of 5 members in a single year may not seem like much in a meeting with 100 members, but over 5 years it’s a 25% decline in membership.

Another important trend, and it’s common to many churches (not just Friends) is a decline in the average number of times people attend worship each month. Gone are the days when everyone came every Sunday. At Springfield Friends, we have about 130 members. Out of that group, about 40-45 people are here every week without fail, about 50 come once or twice a month, and another 40 come 2 or 3 times a year, mainly at Christmas and Easter. We also have a large pool of inactive and semi-active members who show up at random, sometimes coming for 5 or 6 weeks and then disappearing for 4 or 5 years.

Quakers used to take membership very seriously indeed, and there were a lot of outward signs that you were a member. Plain dress, plain speech, and a long list of disciplinary items, all added up to being a Quaker. Perhaps most important, Quakers expected to marry other Quakers, and you could be disowned for marrying outside the Society of Friends. I’m glad that period faded away several generations before I joined. But Friends no longer set a very high bar to joining, and there is no particular penalty for drifting away.

I heartily agree that Quakers need to offer more in the way of guidance, challenge, leadership modeling and Bible study. Most meetings fail miserably at all of these. But I doubt that we will succeed in gaining and maintaining members by adopting a generic evangelical agenda.

In many contemporary evangelical churches, they consider you a member after coming to worship 3 or 4 times. Mega-churches in particular have tend to have a very large turnover in membership, often 20% or more every year. Before taking Saddleback as a model for Friends, we need to look at the life of churches like this, and ask how it relates to the life that Friends want to offer.

Years ago, a Quaker researcher told me that the “natural” size for most Quaker meetings is about 35 members. Growth above this level takes a tremendous amount of work and organization, which most Quaker meetings are ill-prepared and ill-inclined to do. Many meetings of my acquaintance have a kind of snobbery about their small size. Quakers also value the family feeling of a smaller group, and when the meeting grows we complain that we don’t know everyone in the meeting. There’s a kind of suspicion that meetings which are larger are using tricks to grow, or that they are somehow less spiritual than the small, devoted remnant meetings with 25 or 30 members.

I’ve worked with meetings of different sizes, and I appreciate this criticism. On the other hand, there are simply a lot of really great things you can do with a larger group. You can have a much more effective youth program, and more adult discussion groups catering to different interests. With a larger meeting, you can more easily find kindred Friends who are deeply interested in peace activism, or singing together, or serious study of the Bible or Quaker history. Smaller meetings have a lot of trouble reaching “critical mass” for different groups like these.

Monthly meeting for business is much more intimate in a small meeting, and most business is undertaken by everyone. In a larger meeting, committees do more of the work, and a much smaller proportion of people usually come for monthly meeting. Larger meetings have to spend a lot more time on communication and coordination – as the newsletter editor and web site manager for Springfield Friends, this is one of my main concerns.

Most small meetings simply don’t have the resources for the kind of membership training which you recommend in your article. Even larger meetings can struggle with this. It’s one of the reasons why the week-long workshops at FGC are so popular. FUM and many yearly meetings used to do this, but financial pressures and the limited number of people who can take a week off for a conference have cut into this type of ministry.

I have long advocated that quarterly meeting is a better sponsor for serious educational ministry. I’ve been involved several times as a teacher and organizer of quarter-sponsored adult groups, usually modeled on a program developed many years ago by Philadelphia Yearly Meeting, which meets once a week for a 2-hour session. With 6-10 meetings in a quarter, we usually drew about 20-25 participants. The program ran during the school year, and we had three 10-week sessions, one focused on the Bible, one on church history, and one on Quaker theology.

You mention fellowship as an important need. Again, in small meetings this tends to be a fellowship of the whole group, though many meetings have small interest groups and formal or informal social groups. In larger meetings, fellowship needs to be more organized, and most meetings have a host of smaller groups of different kinds. When I came to Springfield, I found 4 or 5 adult Sunday School classes which have been going for decades, mainly organized in age cohorts. Group members have supported each other through having children, seeing them through school, middle age, and the death of spouses. These groups have survived for anywhere from 10 to 50 years and are deeply valued, and they form the backbone of the active membership of the meeting.

Your article is focused on spiritual growth and getting new people involved, but I would also like to mention another issue which can send membership numbers into a death spiral. In the local meeting, any kind of scandal involving money, sex or power can destroy a meeting within weeks. We don’t like to talk about this, but I have personally seen this happen in Quaker meetings, and several times my first 3-4 years of work with a new meeting has centered on healing after this type of problem.

Long before the #MeToo movement, I worked with meetings where many of the members had been damaged by sexual abuse of one kind or another. Quakers are not immune to this, and I’ve been involved with a couple of very painful interventions. At West Richmond Friends, following the discovery that one of our most respected elders had been making unwanted advances to several women, we had an intensive 8-week discussion and planning group to work on healing. Most congregations – even Quaker meetings – don’t do this kind of work, and suffer major losses in attendance and membership after something ugly comes to light. At West Richmond, because of the way we handled it, we actually gained a number of new members!

One of the other things which I have seen at very close range, is the tremendous destruction and loss of membership and resources which take place when a yearly meeting divides. Quakers used to know about this – the memory of the Orthodox/Hicksite separation stayed very clear in Quaker memories for several generations. In the last 40 years there has been a lot of pressure to separate from Friends for theological reasons, mainly over LGBT issues. At least 5 large yearly meetings have been torn apart over this, and the results have been catastrophic. In most cases, the total number of Friends left on both sides after the fight has been substantially lower than the total before. Missions and service projects which served for generations have been gutted. I know that this is outside the scope of your article, but one major reason for recent membership losses has been these divisions. I’ve documented a lot of the fallout in my blog, https://arewefriends.wordpress.com/

Anyway, thanks again for your very thoughtful article. I hope you will keep Friends’ feet to the fire on this!

Best wishes,

– Josh Brown

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Richard Gordon Zyne
August 13, 2018 at 2:59 pm
I have been a member of a Friends Meeting for several years and at the same time I have also been a member of a Unitarian Universalist Fellowship. My UU membership goes back decades. I love Quaker worship, the silence, the Light within, and also the commitment to God and social justice. Both denominations, however, are struggling to find their voice, to grow, and to survive. At least that’s how I experience it. Both of the fellowships I attend are right down the street from each other. One week I go to the Quakers and the next to the UU. I make jokes about both fellowships merging and meeting in the middle at an abandoned building that used to be a car repair shop. I need both because both provide me with good fellowship and peace. Both fellowships suffer because they spend so much of their time and money worrying about property, buildings, and stuff. They get bogged down in politics and doing things like they’ve always done. Sometimes I want to run away from both! Looks like I’ll just have to create my own spirituality and just pulsate between the two bodies.

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Julie Scott
August 13, 2018 at 3:29 pm
Your article and the comments added here were very interesting and are important discussions. As a non-quaker, you might ask why I’m reading your website and newsfeed. It is my attempt to get a better understanding of your way of life and cultural norms. To see if I might fit in. I have only heard good & wise things from Quakers.

You might ask – why haven’t I joined. Well, first of all, I’m not sure I measure up. Not sure of what is expected of me. One thing every person who is contemplating a new direction is looking for – and that’s certainty. Certainty that they will fit in, that they won’t offend anyone; that they are following the structure expected. Especially when it comes to exploring new churches and spirituality.

Without asking your membership to change their worship style and meetings, maybe you could add an activity that is available at all the Quaker meetings – one that is more geared to fellowship. A place & time to connect with strangers, and a place to be safe. Folks like me, might be willing to travel a little further, if we really knew we might be welcomed. Your non-structured services won’t fit the cookie -mold of other evangelist churches. And that’s okay. But we really do need more encouragement to observe and ask questions, where as interested individuals, we don’t disrupt the meditative side of your gatherings.

Glad you’re all sharing such interesting discussions.

The Quakers seem to have a vibrant young adult membership, even if small. They should be included in this quest to share what you offer in spirituality.

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Brent
August 15, 2018 at 2:56 pm
For years, before I was on FGC staff, I worked for the Center for Congregations in Indianapolis. There I served on a some working groups on effective outreach and welcome based on research from the US Congregational Life Survey (you can check out the 10 strengths of vital congregations here — http://www.uscongregations.org/…/beyond-the-ordinary-10-st…/) Faith Communities Today (FACT) also has some downloadable leaders resource you might find helpful/interesting (if we can get beyond “Quaker exceptionalism” and learn from others — in particular small congregations) — http://faithcommunitiestoday.org/publications… as well as other resources.

In addition, the Center for Congregations (www.centerforcongregations.org) has a wealth of free downloadable resources — just search through workshop resource guides and resources. Their information is based on work with thousands of congregations (including small ones — like many Friends congregations are).

I think these are more helpful to the majority of Friends than is the REVEAL survey mentioned this article since REVEAL is a product developed by the megachurch Willow Creek for a specific set of reasons that don’t fit most Quaker congregations..

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John Moorman
September 8, 2018 at 6:29 pm
In the areas I am familiar with, Minneapolis-St Paul, Houston and Austin, growth has been mostly geographical (drive time), membership preferences (read cliques) and to a lesser extent worship style. In all three cities the Meetings are viable and stable or growing. Our Meeting in Georgetown Tx has became a Worship Group sponsored by Austin Society of Friends after being an informal meeting of Friends for several years. Our immediate goal is survival, growth would be a blessing.

Unfortunately I can find little help online or from Yearly Meetings and the General Friends Conference. PDFs, one size fits all, articles are seldom very helpful. What would help our Quaker growth would be better outreach by the Yearly Meetings, especially online interactive availability.There seems t be a shortage of computer literate talent among Quaker. SCYM is a small Yealy Meeting covering five states of progressive Meetings with limited resources. I believe strongly that growing small “seed” Meetings like ours are the future of our Quaker faith.

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