I am a South Jersey Friend and dad with a love out of outreach and a passion for looking afresh at Friends' testimonies, language and practices. I am the publisher of Quaker Quaker, a community site for Friends, and write about online publicity, organizing and design on my business site at MartinKelley.com.
heard enough Posts
Max's program at Guilford is one of the recipients of the Bible Association's efforts and he began by joking that his sole qualification for speaking at their annual meeting was that he was one of their more active customers.
Many of the students going through Max's program grew up in the bigger East Coast yearly meetings. In these settings, being an involved Quaker teen means regularly going to camps like Catoctin and Onas, doing the FGC Gathering every year and having a parent on an important yearly meeting committee. "Quaker" is a specific group of friends and a set of guidelines about how to live in this subculture. Knowing the rules to Wink and being able to craft a suggestive question for Great Wind Blows is more important than even rudimentary Bible literacy, let alone Barclay's Catechism. The knowledge of George Fox rarely extends much past the song ("with his shaggy shaggy locks"). So there's a real culture shock when they show up in Max's class and he hands them a Bible. "I've never touched one of these before" and "Why do we have to use this?" are non-uncommon responses.
None of this surprised me, of course. I've led high school workshops at Gathering and for yearly meeting teens. Great kids, all of them, but most of them have been really shortchanged in the context of their faith. The Guilford program is a good introduction ("we graduate more Quakers than we bring in" was how Max put it) but do we really want them to wait so long? And to have so relatively few get this chance. Where's the balance between letting them choose for themselves and giving them the information on which to make a choice?
There was a sort of built-in irony to the scene. Most of the thirty-five or so attendees at the Moorestown talk were half-a-century older than the students Max was profiling. I pretty safe to say I was the youngest person there. It doesn't seem healthy to have such separated worlds.
Convergent Friends
Max did talk for a few minutes about Convergent Friends. I think we've shaken hands a few times but he didn't recognize me so it was a rare fly-on-wall opportunity to see firsthand how we're described. It was positive (we "bear watching!") but there were a few minor mis-perceptions. The most worrisome is that we're a group of young adult Friends. At 42, I've graduated from even the most expansive definition of YAF and so have many of the other Convergent Friends (on a Facebook thread LizOpp made the mistake of listed all of the older Convergent Friends and touched off a little mock outrage--I'm going to steer clear of that mistake!). After the talk one attendee (a New Foundation Fellowship regular) came up and said that she had been thinking of going to the "New Monastics and Convergent Friends" workshop C Wess Daniels and I are co-leading next May but had second-thoughts hearing that CF's were young adults. "That's the first I've heard that" she said; "me too!" I replied and encouraged her to come. We definitely need to continue to talk about how C.F. represents an attitude and includes many who were doing the work long before Robin Mohr's October 2006 Friends Journal article brought it to wider attention.
Techniques for Teaching the Bible and Quakerism
The most useful part of Max's talk was the end, where he shared what he thought were lessons of the Quaker Leadership Scholars Program. He
- Demystify the Bible: a great percentage of incoming students to the QLSP had never touched it so it seemed foreign;
- Make it fun: he has a newsletter column called "Concordance Capers" that digs into the derivation of pop culture references of Biblical phrases; he often shows Monty Python's "The Life of Brian" at the end of the class.
- Make it relevant: Give interested students the tools and guidance to start reading it.
- Show the genealogy: Start with the parts that are most obviously Quaker: John and the inner Light, the Sermon on the Mount, etc.
- Contemporary examples: Link to contemporary groups that are living a radical Christian witness today. This past semester they talked about the New Monastic movement, for example and they've profiled the Simple Way and Atlanta's Open Door.
- The Bible as human condition: how is the Bible a story that we can be a part of, an inspiration rather than a literalist authority.
A couple of thoughts have been churning through my head since the talk: one is how to scale this up. How could we have more of this kind of work happening at the local yearly meeting level and start with younger Friends: middle school or high schoolers? And what about bringing convinced Friends on board? Most QLSP students are born Quaker and come from prominent-enough families to get meeting letters of recommendation to enter the program. Graduates of the QLSP are funneled into various Quaker positions these days, leaving out convinced Friends (like me and like most of the central Convergent Friends figures). I talked about this divide a lot back in the 1990s when I was trying to pull together the mostly-convinced Central Philadelphia Meeting young adult community with the mostly-birthright official yearly meeting YAF group. I was convinced then and am even more convinced now that no renewal will happen unless we can get these complementary perspectives and energies working together.
PS: Due to a conflict between Feedburner and Disqus, some of comments are here (Wess and Lizopp), here (Robin M) and here (Chris M). I think I've fixed it so that this odd spread won't happen again.
On Tuesday night Bishop Galante and his posse came to visit St Mary's and were greeted by an overflow crowd. He came with charts and a game show host of a priest for MC who tried to start the meeting with a pasted-on smile and crowd-control speaking rules. The St Mary's parishioners were having none of it. There were over five hundred people in the pews asking why the Bishop wanted to shut down a church with sound finances, an impassioned priest, an involved laity and the wherewithal to continue another hundreds years.
"Vibrant" has become the Bishop's stock answer, his new favorite code word. Like a President backpedaling on the rationales of an unpopular war, his spokespeople have admitted under pressure of evidence and easy solutions that the closures aren't due to a priest shortage, financial problems at the targeted churches, or the lack of lay participation and involvement. The only explanation the bishop can offer for closure is "vibrancy." But every time he tries to define "vibrant" he ends up describing St. Mary's and dozens of other local churches he wants to close.
There's obviously more to the definition than he'd like to share. One parishioner asked whether he thought a small church was even capable of displaying the "vibrancy" he demands. He refused to answer, which suggests we've finally dug down to a real answer. His fix for South Jersey is Megachurches that cop strategies from the Evangelical movement and consolidate power more closely in the diocesan offices.
The bishop gave the church-saving movement its best metaphor when he disparaged the little churches he wants to shutter as "Wawa churches." Readers from outside the Mid-Atlantic region might know that Wawa is a local convenience store chain but that's like saying water is a common chemical compound. You can't drive more than twenty minutes without passing three Wawas. South Jersians practically live there. The bishop might was well condemn motherhood, baseball and apple pie if he's going to take on South Jersey's Wawa.
One disgruntled "Catholic in name only" campaign supporter rose to reclaim the Wawa label, saying that all these little churches were indeed like Wawa: ubiquitous, open at all hours, with good food that brought people in. The bishop obviously prefers the Walmart model: big box, big parking lot, hidden Eucharists, gameshow-host priests and clowns for music directors (seriously: check out this post of Julie's and scroll down to the Greatest American Hero dude). I'm not sure why someone who dislikes Catholic culture so much would want to become a priest and I'm really not sure why someone who dislikes South Jersey culture so much would agree to be its bishop. One blogger recently wrote "I have gone through enough mergers and consolidations to know one thing is true: reductions in manpower and assets are made for tighter control" which sounds like as good an explanation as any other I've heard. Power and money: same as it ever was.
I was following the kids around outside for much of what turned into a speak-out session but I got to see twenty seconds of my wife Julie's testimony on the Fox affiliate's 10 o'clock news. Julie had THAT LOOK when addressing the bishop. It's a look I know too well, it's a look that means "I'm right, I know it, and I'm not backing down." If I've learned anything over the course of the last seven years of marriage it's that I don't stand a chance when Julie gives me THAT LOOK: it's time to concede that yes she is right, because any other option will just prolong the pain and delay the inevitable. I saw hundreds of people giving the bishop that same look last night.
It's nice to see South Jersey standing up to an outsider who hates its culture and wants to force change for the sake of his own power and profit. We get a lot of it down here. The power guys usually end up winning: the woods get chainsawed and the farmlands buried under vast expanses of generic box stores and cookie-cutter McMansions financed by Philly money and greased by the pro-development laws of North Jersey politicians. I could be wrong, but after this week I don't think the bishop stands a chance. The question now is how long he's going to prolong his . And how many churches will he succeed in taking down in the name of "vibrance?"
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An anonymous donor paid for this billboard in Laurel, Delaware, for a full year starting last July. It's visible from southbound Route 13 on the left side of the highway. The Southern Quarter website has a supporting peace page.
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At some point, the meetinghouse sign came up. Several of us confessed our dissatisfaction at what it says. I said that what I really want on our sign is simply this: "We gather here every Sunday at 10:30 to meet with God. Please join us."
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Pop culture mashups, many re-purposing images from the 1950s.
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"Peace is Possible," it says. [The location] is probably known best by those who listen to the traffic reports as a place where traffic often backs up. So for two weeks, people stuck in traffic get to meditate on the metaphysics of peace.
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"Quakers?? I thought they all died out." Such confusion is embarrassing, but all too understandable, in view of the fact that so many meetings are all but invisible, even in their own communities. How bad does it get?
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The Web site "functioned for too long as just a marketing arm for the print magazine, rather than publication in its own right," said the editor in chief. For years, he said, "it was a very small number of people, working very hard, who kept it alive."
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What does it say about the condition of our meetings and of our Religious Society when we ourselves don't know enough about our own tradition that we go reaching into another faith tradition...? And religion, like nature, abhors a vacuum.
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Sometimes I feel that we Seekers are afraid of finding the Truth, because we wouldn't know what to do with it then. If we are not Seeking, then what are we doing? And this is, I think, a flaw of ours: that we have become connected to the idea of Seeking
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What if the previous clerk was rightly led to stop? Met with the new clerk, gave the new person all their materials, advice, and best wishes? In both cases, I thought the transition had gone pretty well. I was wrong.
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The question of why more people weren't Quakers was raised. One weighty Friend had a simple answer: "Because Quakerism is a religion of Seekers, and most people prefer having answers instead of more questions."
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The violence in Kenya today was especially fierce in the western town of Kisumu. Anchor Lisa Mullins speaks with long-time Kisumu resident Eden Grace.
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Quaker Quest, with its commitment to 21st century P.R., well designed glossy posters and brochures is a way to draw new and "frightening" people to us. QQ is a direct affront to the Quietest pall which has been hanging, smog-like, over my Yearly Meeting.
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Soon after I began attending Quaker meetings, I became aware that Quakers have their own meanings for some words and phrases that are different from the meanings used by non-Quakers. That kind of jargon frequently appears in cultural or vocational groups.
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After eight years of threshing sessions, discussions, meetings for worship for business, personal conversations, and called meetings for worship, I have the sense that we still have not totally heard each other. We can't just wait this out.
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The great bluegrass band that played at our wedding!
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I was taking part in an expression of solidarity with Muslim women in this country who might be experiencing hostility in the wake of 9/11; it was a sort of semi-organized Quaker activity that spread by word of mouth and email at the time.
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While at Quaker Quest on Monday night, I heard one of the facilitators say that we are called Quakers and calling ourselves Friends is something informal. Funny that, because I understand us to be Friends of Truth originally...
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We don't know what is to come but we can develop so we be flexible enough to respond but are we in danger of losing sight of that and taking on board aspects of managerialism which have blighted so much of recent life?
Essential to this thinking has been Jeanne B's Social Class and Quakers blog. There are many ways to tease out the way culture and faith work to reinforce and sabotage one another, but class is a good one. If you travel from one theological brand of Friends to another, from one cultural zone to another (e.g, urban vs ex-urban vs rural) you'll see marked culture differences. Just take a look at the potluck array if you doubt me. Jeanne talks about the urban liberal Quaker stigma against Cool Whip and a great link she turned me on to talks about some of the ways the alterna-lefty culture can unwittingly separate itself from potential allies in social change over tofu.
Since falling out of the rarefied world of professional Quakerism a year ago, I've become more local. I live in a small, largely agricultural town in rural South Jersey roughly equidistant from the region's skyscraper metropoli (I don't give its name for privacy reasons) and residents range from multi-generational families to Mexican farmworkers to people who got in trouble up north in NYC and are looking for a quieter place to come clean. I don't see Quakers in my day-to-day life anymore but I do interact with a more representative sampling of America, people who are all trying to get somewhere other than where they are. Jesus would have been here. Fox would have preached here. But what do modern liberal Friends have to say about this world? As Bill Samuel wrote on Jeanne's blog issues of safety-net public assistance that seem like do-gooder causes for most well-off liberal Friends are matters of personal practicality for more economically diverse religious bodies (the child care program that President Bush vetoed last month is the same one that let me take my fevered two year old to the doctor last Friday).
Last First Day I heard a good orthodox piece of Quaker ministry couched in a learned language, all talk of justification versus sanctification, with a bit of insider Quaker acronyms thrown in for good effect. I love the fellow who gave the message and I appreciated his ministry. But the whole time I wondered how this would sound to people I know now, like the friendly but hot-tempered Puerto Rican ex-con less than a year out of a eight-year stint in federal prison, now working two eight hour shifts at almost-minimum wage jobs and trying to stay out of trouble. How does the theory of our theology fit into a code of conduct that doesn't start off assuming middle class norms. What do our tofu covered dishes and vanilla soy chai's (I'm so addicted) have to do with living under Christ's instruction? And just which FGC outreach pamphlet should I be handing my new friend?
Enough for now. More soon.
A few decades ago a little boy named Linus van Pelt sat in a pumpkin patch waiting in vain for the return of the Great Pumpkin (gotta love Wikipedia). Nowadays he might as well sit on his front stoop waiting for the trick-or-treaters. With the two hour "official" time almost at an end we've had only one lonely costumer come to our door. We ourselves went up and down the street (the last showing of the butterfly outfits) but only one in three houses opened their doors. Curiously, the most Halloween-decorated houses on the street were empty. Only one house with kids opened the door--it was grandma, who said her daughter had taken the granddaughter across town to a busy trick-or-treat street.I used to live on Windsor Avenue, one of West Philly's best trick-or-treat streets, a magnet that drew ghosts, goblins and ballerinas from across that part of the city. It was a lot of fun. Over the years I developed a routine where I'd play a helpless victim on a spider web stretched with string across the back of the porch. I'd moan, "candy candy, give me some candy so I can go free." Eventually some brave little kid would inch up and give me candy, whereupon I'd scream "I'm free, now I can steal your candy, hahaha!" Little kid screams raised in alarm as I lunged at them. I often kept the candy and once counted over thirty pieces in my pockets by night's end! That was a lot of showings for the "candy!" routine, at at least one family of Ethiopian kids would yell out "Candy Man!! Candy Man!!" year-round whenever they'd see me.
When I moved to Jersey I decided I wanted to make this my home and that one way I'd do this is by celebrating Halloween here. A few of the people on my current, way-too-quiet street told me that this street used to be busy on Halloween night and I've heard enough anecdotal stories to think this is just how Halloween has evolved over the last few decades: carnivalesque magnet streets surrounded by miles of dark porch lights. It's kind of a shame, as this is really the only night of the year where I have a good reason to go up to my neighbor's doors and chat a few moments with them. Trick-or-treating is such an iconic small town American tradition and it's death is just another indicator of the way in which geographic locality has been replaced, for better or worse.
Wess Daniels posts about Quaker theology on his blog. I responded there but got to thinking of Swarthmore professor Jerry Frost's 2000 Gathering talk about FGC Quakerism. Academic, theologically-minded Friends helped forge liberal Quakerism but their influenced wained after that first generation. Here's a snippet:
"[T]he first generations of English and America Quaker liberals like Jones and Cadbury were all birthright and they wrote books as well as pamphlets. Before unification, PYM Orthodox and the other Orthodox meetings produced philosophers, theologians, and Bible scholars, but now the combined yearly meetings in FGC produce weighty Friends, social activists, and earnest seekers." ...
"The liberals who created the FGC had a thirst for knowledge, for linking the best in religion with the best in science, for drawing upon both to make ethical judgments. Today by becoming anti-intellectual in religion when we are well-educated we have jettisoned the impulse that created FGC, reunited yearly meetings, redefined our role in wider society, and created the modern peace testimony. The kinds of energy we now devote to meditation techniques and inner spirituality needs to be spent on philosophy, science, and Christian religion."
This talk was hugely influential to my wife Julie and myself. We had just met two days before and while I had developed an instant crush, Frost's talk was the first time we sat next to one another. I realized that this might become something serious when we both laughed out loud at Jerry's wry asides and theology jokes. We ended up walking around the campus late into the early hours talking talking talking.
But the talk wasn't just the religion geek equivalent of a pick-up bar. We both responded to Frost's call for a new generation of serious Quaker thinkers. Julie enrolled in a Religion PhD program, studying Quaker theology under Frost himself for a semester. I dove into historians like Thomas Hamm and modern thinkers like Lloyd Lee Wilson as a way to understand and articulate the implicit theology of "FGC Friends" and took independent initiatives to fill the gaps in FGC services, taking leadership in young adult program and co-leading workshops and interest groups.
Things didn't turn out as we expected. I hesitate speaking for Julie but I think it's fair enough to say that she came to the conclusion that Friends ideals and practices were unbridgable and she left Friends. I've documented my own setbacks and right now I'm pretty detached from formal Quaker bodies.
Maybe enough time hasn't gone by yet. I've heard that the person sitting on Julie's other side for that talk is now studying theology up in New England; another Friend who I suspect was nearby just started at Earlham School of Religion. I've called this the Lost Quaker Generation but at least some of its members have just been lying low. It's hard to know whether any of these historically-informed Friends will ever help shape FGC popular culture in the way that Quaker academia influenced liberal Friends did before the 1970s.
Rereading Frost's speech this afternoon it's clear to see it as an important inspiration for QuakerQuaker. Parts of it act well as a good liberal Quaker vision for what the blogosphere has since taken to calling convergent Friends. I hope more people will stumble on Frost's speech and be inspired, though I hope they will be careful not to tie this vision too closely with any existing institution and to remember the true source of that daily bread. Here's a few more inspirational lines from Jerry:
We should remember that theology can provide a foundation for unity. We ought to be smart enough to realize that any formulation of what we believe or linking faith to modern thought is a secondary activity; to paraphrase Robert Barclay, words are description of the fountain and not the stream of living water. Those who created the FGC and reunited meetings knew the possibilities and dangers of theology, but they had a confidence that truth increased possibilities.

