I suppose that in either case, Christian or Quaker, the prevailing assumption was that these books are for internal use among Friends. This is who we are, more or less. But what I like about the title Christian Faith and Practice is another interpretation entirely, one I have no permission or evidence to propose: this way of faith and life is not just for us; it’s recommended for all Christians.

I’d argue a strong yes to this. When I think about what ancient Quaker oddities might still be relevant, one of the questions I ask myself is whether we could argue that the whole church should also adopt the practice (however unlikely that might be in reality). If it’s just some Quaker canard, we can toss it into an antiquity dustbin. But if all Christians should be following the practice, then let’s set the example.

I like Thomas Clarkson’s historical account of Friends particularly because he’s not writing for a Quaker audience. I get the feeling he’s holding our practices up for scrutiny, as if to say that maybe everyone should be following them and indeed, his pacifism and abolitionism were greatly influenced by the Friends he met in his work.

Of course this witness to other Christians sort of falls apart if we don’t consider ourselves Christian. If online discourse is any indication, there are large numbers of Quakers who are rather oblivious that almost all of our Quaker identity has a biblical basis (selective, of course, and also interpreted, debated and changing). Quakerism is seen as something that just randomly popped up in the world. None of the early Friends would have thought that.

Whose faith? Whose practice? (part one)

Political and cultural observations in light of Quaker discipleship.

blog.canyoubelieve.me

The claim is that Shaker leader Ann Lee was born a Quaker. The Wikipedia entry says: “Her parents were members of a distinct branch of the Society of Friends (a sect of Quakers) and too poor to afford their children even the rudiments of education.” The source of this is given in the citation: a 1879 encyclopedia article, a copy of which is hosted on Wikisource: “Her parents were members of a distinct branch of the society of Friends, and too poor to afford their children even the rudiments of education.” A source for this claim was never given in the encyclopedia, though later on it does reference Frederick William Evans, a much later Shaker figure.

That is the Tim Gee compiles five pieces of evidence that together feel very convincing.

There are of course influences but that’s to be expected. Every religious movement of the Second Great Awakening had some relationship to Quakers. The Methodists, Mormons, Holiness, Adventists all have some connections. When you tour the “1652 Country” area of England, where George Fox first brought Quakers together, you’ll keep running into signs about John Wesley doing the same for Methodists a century later, and here in South Jersey where I live a whole slew of Quakers became Methodists in the early 1800s. At least one early Mormon evangelist in Ohio essentially went from Quaker town to Quaker town trying to recruit people. The Quaker defense of female leadership and the principle that women can preach obviously rubbed off on the Shakers and other movements.

The idea that the British colonies in America were some pure land where we could reinvent a primitive Christianity was a powerful meme (if you will) at the time and certainly drew Ann Lee to cross over and plant a religious movement here. But Ann Lee picked one of the least Quaker areas to plant her community and drew early members from New England millennialist revivalists. She definitely wanted to build something distinct from Friends.

Ann Lee Was Never a Quaker: Here’s the Evidence

Five reasons why Wikipedia is wrong.

Friends Journal

I love complicated identities like this. There’s a lot of discernment that goes on about how to incorporate Indigenous and Quaker elements into life. For many, it seems a surprisingly natural fit. This is true elsewhere, in parts of Africa and South America, where missionary Quakers’ beliefs meshed with the belief systems of pre-colonial ethnic groups, allowing an easy transition.

Also of interest is that these meetings are all Christian, which demographers tell us is the norm for Native Americans today.¹ Decolonialism means something very different for those who are committed to hold on to Christianity.

Indigenous and Quaker Both

Explore how Native Quaker communities hold onto their unique culture while practicing Christ-centered worship cultural commonalities, and shared…

Friends Journal

We agreed that a lot of Quaker belief can only be experienced, not described, which makes for difficulties when doing outreach. It’s easy to go into nuance once someone has coming into the meetinghouse and is participating in an education program but how do we get them off the street in the first place. Tom said:

I’m comfortable with Christ language and the inward light of Christ. And I know there are friends who are not, and there are good reasons why they’re not. I’m not denying that. in these newcomer sessions a persistent question is: Are Quakers Christian? And how do you understand that? And they’re mostly coming from backgrounds and other kind of more conservative churches.

And so that’s a live question for them because in some sense they all left those churches because the fundamentalism was grating on them. I always pull off this thing from my shelf, it’s the Reader’s Guide to George Fox’s Journal by Joseph Pickvance. And he makes a fascinating statement: the commonest cause of misunderstanding of Fox’s teaching today is a failure to realize how wide and deep and functional is the meaning that quote Christ had for him. 

Our discussion ranged quite a bit, from Art Larrabee’s “Nine Core Quaker Beliefs” to Marcus Borg’s Heart of Christianity and 1653’s Saul’s Errand to Damascus, by James Nayler and George Fox. I definitely need to do some more reading!

Full show notes and a transcript are available.

Tom has also written a follow-up post on Quaker belief on his blog.

Today Jaime Johnson tweeted out a link to a new piece by Rachel Held Evans called “The Future of Evangelicalism.” She does a nice job parsing out the differences between the two camps squaring off over Rob Bell. On the one side is a centralized movement of neo-Calvinists she calls Young, Restless, Reformed after a 2006 Christianity Today article. I have little to no interest in this crowd except for mild academic curiosity. But the other side is what she’s dubbing “the new evangelicals”:

The second group—sometimes referred to as “the new evangelicals” or “emerging evangelicals” or “the evangelical left” is significantly less organized than the first, but continues to grow at a grassroots level. As Paul Markhan wrote in an excellent essay about the phenomenon, young people who identify with this movement have grown weary of evangelicalism’s allegiance to Republican politics, are interested in pursuing social reform and social justice, believe that the gospel has as much to do with this life as the next, and are eager to be a part of inclusive, diverse, and authentic Christian communities. “Their broadening sense of social responsibility is pushing them to rethink many of the fundamental theological presuppositions characteristic of their evangelical traditions,” Markham noted.

This is the group that intrigues me. There’s a lot of cross-over here with some of what I’m seeing with Quakers. In an ideal world, the Religious Society of Friends would open its arms to this new wave of seekers, especially as they hit the limits of denominational tolerance. But in reality, many of the East Coast meetings I’m most familiar with wouldn’t know what to do with this crowd. In Philly if you’re interested in this conversation you go to Circle of Hope (previous posts), not any of the established Quaker meetings.

Evans makes some educated guesses about the future of the “new evangelical” movement. She thinks there will be more discussion about the role of the Bible, though I would say it’s more discussion fo the various Christian interpretations of it. She also foresees a loosening of labels and denominational affiliations. I’m seeing some of this happening among Friends, though it’s almost completely on the individual level, at least here on the East Coast. It will be interesting to see how this shakes out over the next few years and whether it will bypass, engage with or siphon off the Society of Friends. In the meantime, Evans’ post and the links she embeds in it are well worth exploring.

There must be a purpose to this constant story review, some way it deepens our own spiritual lives. One gift it gives to me is perspective. I was just taking an evening bath and found myself getting upset about a particular situation from my past and stopped to pick up my One Year Bible. The Old Testament readings for most of Tenth Month come from Jeremiah. Here’s a bit of God’s instructions to the prophet:

“Tell them all this, but do not expect them to listen. Shout out your warnings but do not expect them to respond. Say to them, ‘This is the nation whose people will not obey the Lord their God and who refuse to be taught. Truth has vanished from among them; it is no longer heard on their lips.’ ” (Jer 7:27)

And later:

“Jeremiah, say to the people, ‘This is what the Lord says: When people fall down, don’t they get up again? When they discover they’re on the wrong road, don’t they turn back? Then why do these people stay on their self-destructive path? Why do the people of Jerusalem refuse to turn back? They cling tightly to their lies and will not turn around.’ ” (Jer 8:4)

Here we are, Sixth Century B.C., and the spiritual state of God’s people is in a terrible state. It makes my aggrievements look petty. And maybe that’s the point. The relationship between God and His people have been in a rollar coaster ride for millennia. Sure, Jesus’ new covenant brought about a lot of changes but didn’t end hypocrisy or faithlessness. Protestants can point to the reformation and Friends to the new people gathered by George Fox but both movements long ago floundered on the shoals of human weakness. History hasn’t stopped. The trials of the spiritual don’t stop. We don’t get a free ride of spiritual ease just because we’re on the current edge of human history.

As early Friends were aware, a spiritual life still requires lifting of the cross. It’s easy to let disappointments lead to despair, and to retreat into the many temptations of the modern world has at ready supply. In that state it’s easy to put off worrying about our duties to our fellow humans, to life on earth and to God. Every once in a while I’ll get whiny about something and my dear wife will say “get over it and do what you need to do already.” We’ve remembered the story of Jeremiah for 2500 years for the same reason: “you think you’ve got it bad, you’re not being decimated and enslaved in Babylon!” Perspective.

* * *

I’m still thinking about one of the conversations I had the other week at Vineland Mennonite Church–about the difference between theology and Biblicism. I like theology and I like learning about the context of Bible stories I read. I enjoy hearing new theories about old paradoxes (for example, Martin Luther King’s take on the story of the Good Samaritan fascinates me in part because it reminds me that the story is set on a real road and is intended as a story about real people making difficult choices). But I’m also aware that it’s easy to spend so much time reading and talking about the commentary that I forget to read the original stories themselves. If stories are religious ed, then we have to remember to actually read the stories. Sometimes when I stumble on the cool blogs of the cleverest ministers I wonder if they stop to actually read the stories. So much energy seems to be expended on making up new words and giving messages of easy hope. I can’t see Jeremiah joining them at the local church brew pub fest to hoist a Rolling Rock. The current New Testament reading in the One Year Bible is Paul’s letter to the Colossian, which includes this gem:

Don’t let anyone capture you (Colossians) with empty philosophies and high-sounding nonsense that come from human thinking and from the spiritual powers of this world, rather than from Christ.

I’m sure George Fox hooted in joy when he read that line! The stories remind us that all is not well and that all will not be well. Temptations still nips at our best intentions. The greatest temptation is self-reliance. Our test as individuals and as a people will be demonstrated by how we patiently and faithfully we bear the hardships we encounter and keep our trust in the risen Christ.

So it’s useful to read William Penn’s thoughts on spiritual individualism in The Rise and Progress of the People Called Quakers. He’s talking about those members of the still-new Society of Friends who had become the “greatest trouble,” who “fought dominion over conscience”:

They would have had every Man independent, that as he had the Principle in himself, he should only stand and fall to that, and no Body else: Not considering that the Principle is one in all and though the Measure of Light or Grace might differ, yet the Nature of it was the same; and being so, the struck at the Spiritual Unity, which a People, guided by the same Principle, are naturally led into: So that what is an Evil to one, is so to all, from the Sense and Savour of the one universal Principle which is common to all, and which the Disaffected also profess to be the Root of all true Christian Fellowship, and that Spirit into which the People of God drink, and come to be Spiritually-minded, and of one Heart and one Soul.

For Penn, that of God is the spirit of the inward Christ–a spirit we can drink from to find spiritual unity. It is an authority rooted not in our own human weakness but in  universal spiritual truths that are accessible to all.

We were coming after 8:30 Mass at Julie’s church and arrived a few minutes before the worship service while they were doing their religious education program. But the distinction between religious ed and worship was minimal, almost non-existent. Attendance at both was near-universal (about 110 total) and much of the worship itself was religious education. There was a series of 15 minute’ish sermons (delivered by various men), broken up by some four-part a capella singing (beautiful), recitations from a Bible verse they were memorizing and kneeling prayer (a surprise the first time, as they all spin around suddenly to face the back, kneel and pray).

It’s probably one of the most religiously conscientious communities I’ve seen. A lot of the service involved reviewing belief structure. Their book of discipline is very slim, not much more than a tract, but it’s something they use and they spent part of the time reading from it. Much of the worship hour was meant to reinforce who they were, why they were and how they were–to explain over and over why they led their distinctive life. Theirs is a voluntary association for those who agree to follow the authority of the group’s teachings. I suspect that every adult in the room could give a detailed presentation on conservative Mennonite faith and give detailed answers about points of doctrine. At the risk of inserting my own opinion I will venture that the worship service felt a bit dry (as Julie said, there wasn’t a ounce of mysticism in the whole proceeding) but I don’t think the members there would feel offended by this observation. Exciting the senses is less important than reviewing the values and living the moral life.

Visually, the group is striking. Every man in the room wore a long-sleeved white dress shirt buttoned all the way up, dark pants and black shoes; all had short hair and only one or two had facial hair. I was more distinctively plain in my broadfalls and suspenders but the effect of sixty-or-so men and young boys all dressed alike was visually stunning. Like a lot of plain peoples, the women were more obviously plain and all but one or two wore lightly-colored cape dresses and head coverings (I later learned that the exceptions were newcomers who weren’t yet members). Seated was segregated, women on the left, men on the right. Gender roles are very clear. There were kids–lots of kids–all around, and a big focus of the sermons was family living. One extended sermon focused on discerning between providing well for one’s family vs. greed and the balance between working hard for your family vs. giving up some things so you can spend time with them. Kids were present throughout the service and were relatively well behaved.

The church itself was called a meetinghouse and was plain–no crosses of course. People sat in pews and there was a raised area up front for ministers and elders. The building doubled as a schoolhouse during the week and its schoolrooms had a lot of Rod and Staff books, familiar from our own home schooling. A member described the school as one leg of the three-legged stool, along with church and family. If any one part of the equation was lacking in some way, the other two could help insure the child’s moral welfare. School was free for church members but was open on a tuition basis to non-Mennonites. These outsiders were required to make certain lifestyle choices that would insure the school stayed relatively pure; the most important requirement was that the family not have a television at home.

My regular readers will have one question on their mind right about now: did anyone invite us to lunch? Why yes they did! We didn’t even have to prompt it. We knew a couple there–M and J, who run a restaurant in the local farmer’s market, a favorite Saturday morning stop for us. They took us under their wing when they recognized us, sitting with us during worship and then showing us the school. J said that if we came back again we could come over for lunch. Then she backtracked and offered that we could come now, explaining that the church had had recent discussions over whether it was too pushy to ask first-time attenders to lunch or whether they should restrain themselves and invite them on the second visit. Wow, a church that thinks about this?!

So we followed them to their place for lunch. It was a wonderful opportunity to ask more questions and get to know one another. Meals are important. Julie and I had wondered why there were Mennonites in Vineland NJ of all places–and two Mennonite churches at that! Short story is that there had been a civilian public service facility in Vineland for conscientious objectors and Lancaster-area Mennonites decided that “the boys” stationed there needed the grounding of a local church community (apparently other C.O. camps were scenes of debauchery–Mennonite drag racing in Colorado Springs was cited). This became Norma Mennonite Church, which still exists and is another local church I’ve been meaning to visit for years (hi Mandy!). In the 1960s, there was a great round of liberalization among Mennonites, an unofficial abandonment of the distinctives codified in their books of disciplines. Many churches split and the Vineland Church was formed by those members of Norma who wanted to maintain the discipline.

This probably explains the strong focus on the rules of the discipline. For those wanting more of the histories, I commend Stephen Scott’s excellent “An Introduction to Old Order and Conservative Mennonite Groups” along with anything else Stephen Scott has written. The Vineland congregation is part of the Eastern Pennsylvania Mennonite Church conference, profiled on pages 173–176. A lot of the Mennonite issues and splits are echoed among Friends and we’d do well to understand these cousins of ours.

The result is a church that’s big on group practice: the dress, the lifestyle. M. told me that they don’t believe in theology but in Biblicism. He explained that they don’t think the Bible contains the word of God but instead that it is the Word of God and he paused to let the distinction sink in. The Bible is not to be interpreted but read and followed, with special attention given the gospels and the letters of Paul.

So no, I’m not going to go Conservative Mennonite on you all. I have a TV. My profession is web design (they’re not into the internet, natch). I’m married to a praciticing Catholic (I don’t know how they would bend on that) and at this point my brain is wired in a curious, outward way that wouldn’t fit into the normative structures of a group like this. Doctrinally-speaking, I’m a Friend in that I think the Word of God is the Inward Christ’s direct spirit and that the Bible needs to be read in that Light. There’s a lot of people who wouldn’t fit for various reasons, people who I would want in my church (they maintain a hard line against remarriage after divorce and I didn’t even ask about gay issues). But I have to admit that the process and structure puts together a really great community of people. They’re hard-working, kind, charitable and not nearly as judgmental as you might imagine–in practice, less judgmental than a lot of progressive religious people I know. Non-resistance is one of the pillars of their practice and they were genuinely interested in Julie’s Catholic church and my experiences among Friends and we talked a fair bit about Islam.

Normally I’d give a big thanks to the church and M & J here, except I know they won’t read this. I am grateful to their kindness in sharing their church, beliefs and family meal with us.