I collect style guides and the only modern one I’ve found to address it is an early-aughts version from Friends General Conference, originally written in the late 90s by Barbara Hirshkowitz. Barbara more or less taught me everything I know about editing when we worked together at New Society Publishers in the early 90s. Bits of her personality come out in the guide so it’s fun to read it and remember her and later additions by Chel Avery are just as wonderful. I miss them both, both as editors and friends¹

Early Friends were well known for their idiosyncrasies. They weren’t afraid of looking weird for a principle they believed in. They would risk imprisonment, illness, and death for these principles. For example, their radical belief in the equality of all people under Christ ² led them to refuse to take off their hats in front of judges. Friends were hauled off to jail just for refusing this hat honor. Plain language, dress, and dates all set off Friends as a “peculiar people” who were easily recognizable for standing out. But this wasn’t necessarily a bad weirdness: it also reinforced their commitment to a radical integrity.

Succeeding generations of Friends chipped away and eventually dropped many of these peculiarities. Much of this was peer pressure I suspect: being strange got in the way of assimilating into the wider culture. Another motivation, especially among more evangelically minded Friends, was outreach. If we want to bring in the masses we should drop the silly, outdated markers that are secondary to the core message—that Christ has come to teach the people himself.

Another reason for the decline is ossification. It’s perhaps inevitable that every religious tradition will gradually forget why they do the things they do and start doing them simply because that is something they’ve always. Kids in Quaker First-day school will be told we don’t swear oaths or don’t gamble or vote in our internal decision-making because Friends don’t engage in those activities. Forgotten in this are the biblical and historical theological rationales for avoiding the practices. Margaret Fell described this process when she recounted the first time hearing George Fox preach: “We are all thieves; we have taken the Scripture in words, and know nothing of them in ourselves.” I think many Friends have taken our traditions mostly in words. It’s easy to abandon a practice you don’t understand.

So I thought I’d share my own personal test for deciding whether an old Quaker peculiarity is worth reviving. I’ve probably shared this before (the danger when someone with maybe twelve interesting ideas has a twenty-plus year old blog³). Here they are:

Can a peculiarity be explained to an outsider in a few sentences without the need to give any historical context?

Is it a practice that one could argue is applicable to any Christian?

I realize the Bible is a contest realm but could someone understand it from a straight-forward reading of the gospels in particular and maybe even more particularly the Sermon on the Mount , from which so many Quaker testimonies arise. One of my favorite Quaker interpreters is the Anglican antislavery activist Thomas Clarkson. He described Quaker practice for the education of his denomination—I think he thought some of the ideas were worth poaching. Is an old Quaker practice found in the gospels and could someone like Clarkson want to import it into their Christian tradition?

What babies in the bathwater are worth preserving with this test? Are there tests you use to think about Quaker practices?

Beyond Majority Rule has one of the more unique stories in Quaker writings. Michael Sheeran is a Jesuit priest who went to seminary in the years right after the Second Vatican Council. Forged by great changes taking place in the church, he took seriously the Council’s mandate for Roman Catholics to get “in touch with their roots.” He became interested in a long-forgotten process of “Communal Discernment” used by the Jesuit order in when it was founded in the mid-sixteenth century. His search led him to study groups outside Catholicism that had similar decision-making structures. The Religious Society of Friends should consider itself lucky that he found us. His book often explains our ways better than anything we’ve written.

Sheeran’s advantage comes from being an outsider firmly rooted in his own faith. He’s not afraid to share observations and to make comparisons. He started his research with a rather formal study of Friends, conducing many interviews and attending about ten monthly meetings in Philadelphia Yearly Meeting. There are sections of the book that are dry expositions of Quaker process, sprinkled by interviews. There are times where Sheeran starts saying something really insightful about early or contemporary Friends, but then backs off to repeat some outdated Quaker cliche (he relies a bit too heavily on the group of mid-century Haverford-based academics whose histories often projected their own theology of modern liberal mysticism onto the early Friends). These sections aren’t always very enlightening–too many Philadelphia Friends are unconscious of their cherished myths and their inbedded inconsistencies. On page 85, he expresses the conundrum quite eloquently:

If the researcher was to succumb to the all too typical canons of social science, he would probably scratch his head a few times atjust this point, note that the ambiguity of Quaker expression makes accurate statistical evaluation of Quaker believes almost impossible without investment of untold time and effort, and move on to analysis of some less interesting but more manageable object of study.

Fortunately for us, Sheeran does not succumb. The book shines when Sheeran steps away from the academic role and offers us his subjective observations.

There are six pages in Beyond Majority Rule that comprise its main contribution to Quakerism. Almost every time I’ve heard someone refer to this book in conversation, it’s been to share the observations of these six pages. Over the years I’ve often casually browsed through the book and it’s these six pages that I’ve always stopped to read. The passage is called “Conflicting Myths and Fundamental Cleavages” and it begins on page 84. Sheeran begins by relating the obvious observation:

When Friends reflect upon their beliefs, they often focus upon the obvious conflict between Christocentric and universalist approaches. People who feel strongly drawn to either camp often see the other position as a threat to Quakerism itself.

As a Gen-X’er I’ve often been bored by this debate. It often breaks down into empty language and the desire to feel self-righteous about one’s beliefs. It’s the MacGuffin of contemporary liberal Quakerism. (A MacGuffin is a film plot device that drives the action but is in itself never explained and doesn’t really matter: if the spies have to get the secret plans across the border by midnight, those plans are the MacGuffin and the chase the real action.) Today’s debates about Christocentrism versus Universalism ignore the real issues of faithlessness we need to address.

Sheeran sees the real cleavage between Friends as those who have experienced the divine and those who haven’t. I’d extend the former just a bit to include those who have faith that the experience of the divine is possible. When we sit in worship do we really believe that we might be visited by Christ (however named, however defined)? When we center ourselves for Meeting for Business do we expect to be guided by the Great Teacher?

Sheeran found that a number of Friends didn’t believe in a divine visitation:

Further questions sometimes led to the paradoxical discovery that, for some of these Friends, the experience of being gathered even in meeting for worship was more of a formal rather than an experiential reality. For some, the fact that the group had sat quiety for twenty-five minutes was itself identified as being gathered.

There are many clerks that call for a “moment of silence” to begin and end business–five minutes of formal silence to prove that we’re Quakers and maybe to gather our arguments together. Meetings for business are conducted by smart people with smart ideas and efficiency is prized. Sitting in worship is seen a meditative oasis if not a complete waste of time. For these Friends, Quakerism is a society of strong leadership combined with intellectual vigor. Good decisions are made using good process. If some Friends choose to describe their own guidance as coming from “God,” that their individual choice but it is certainly not an imperative for all.

Maybe it’s Sheeran’s Catholicism that makes him aware of these issues. Both Catholics and Friends traditionally believe in the real presence of Christ during worship. When a Friend stands to speak in meeting, they do so out of obedience, to be a messenger and servant of the Holy Spirit. That Friends might speak ‘beyond their Guide’ does not betray the fact that it’s God’s message we are trying to relay. Our understanding of Christ’s presence is really quite radical: “Jesus has come to teach the people himself,” as Fox put it, it’s the idea that God will speak to us as He did to the Apostles and as He did to the ancient prophets of Israel. The history of God being actively involved with His people continues.

Why does this matter? Because as a religious body it is simply our duty to follow God and because newcomers can tell when we’re faking it. I’ve known self-described atheists who get it and who I consider brothers and sisters in faith and I’ve known people who can quote the bible inside and out yet know nothing about love (haven’t we all known some of these, even in Quakerism?). How do we get past the MacGuffin debates of previous generations to distill the core of the Quaker message?

Not all Friends will agree with Sheeran’s point of cleavage. None other than the acclaimed Haverfordian Douglas V Steere wrote the introduction to Beyond Majority Rule and he used it to dismiss the core six pages as “modest but not especially convincing” (page x). The unstated condition behind the great Quaker reunifications of the mid-twentieth century was a taboo against talking about what we believe as a people. Quakerism became an individual mysticism coupled with a world-focused social activism–to talk about the area in between was to threaten the new unity.

Times have changed and generations have shifted. It is this very in-between-ness that first attracted me to Friends. As a nascent peace activist, I met Friends whose deep faith allowed them to keep going past the despair of the world. I didn’t come to Friends to learn how to pray or how to be a lefty activist (most Quaker activists now are too self-absorbed to be really effective). What I want to know is how Friends relate to one another and to God in order to transcend themselves. How do we work together to discern our divine leadings? How do we come together to be a faithful people of the Spirit?

I find I’m not alone in my interest in Sheeran’s six pages. The fifty-somethings I know in leadership positions in Quakerism also seem more tender to Sheeran’s observations than Douglas Steere was. Twenty-five years after submitting his dissertation, Friends are perhaps ready to be convinced by our Friend, Michael J. Sheeran.

Postscript: Michael J Sheeran continues to be an interesting and active figure. He continues to write about governance issues in the Catholic Church and serves as president of Regis University in Denver.