Tag Archives: Qf&p

Openings: Qf&p chapter 19

This is a chapter with a lot of famous passages in it; I’m no historian, but skimming through, I find that I recognise a lot of the stories. Here’s George Fox on top of Pendle Hill, seeing the sea and the people to be gathered. Here’s James Naylor called away from his plough. Here’s Thomas Ellwood pretending to be hunting when he’s actually gone to meeting. Here’s Mary Dyer, executed for her religion.

Skimming through also reveals the structure of the chapter. Some of the material is chronological, but there’s no attempt to provide a complete history. (There’s no need to; plenty of other histories of early Quakerism exist.) What is does do is to try and provide some examples of the historical roots of things which are now important to Quakers: universal access to the Inward Light, our structures or ‘gospel order’, and our testimony or witness in the world (here presented as a list of four ‘testimonies’). For me, the benefits of this approach are that it shows us how we are part of a continuity, working along the same lines as our forebears, worried about the same kinds of issues and using the same kinds of methods. Some of them have even more or less worked – English did abandon the you/thou distinction, and affirming rather than swearing is well recognised in law. Bigger goals, like the abandonment of outward warfare, are still works in progress!

Feeling part of the community who have never been afraid to stand out, to be different, to work by our own values and not those of the rest of the world, can be a real aid to taking courage and continuing the work.

There are disadvantages to this presentation too, of course. It could gloss over all sorts of things that I don’t at all have in common with early Friends. Sometimes I’ve felt that this was a real weakness of the book – especially when this book is treated as the only book, as if it’s called ‘All About Quakerism’ or ‘Everything You Need To Know About Quakers’ – but actually there are lots of other resources out there about Quaker history. (Books, films, a free online course running again this May…) We might benefit from being reminded of some of the ways in which early Friends disagreed with us, but we also gain a lot from the sense of community created by focusing, in one chapter at least, on what we do have in common.

That being so, I want to end with someone from this chapter with whom I feel a commonality: Samual Bownas, perhaps one of the first people able to write about the experience of having grown up as a Quaker. Among the very earliest Friends, that experience didn’t exist; then it came to dominate the Society for hundreds of years; but today, it’s almost gone again, with a majority of Quakers arriving in adulthood. Samuel Bownas describes very vividly the need to move from merely being a Quaker because you have always been one, to being a Quaker because you want to be one. My own experience isn’t like his at all – except that in some ways, it is. These experiences doesn’t fit the ‘convincement’ narratives often preferred by Friends, especially if it happens more slowly and less dramatically than it did for Bownas. I sometimes need to be reminded that it is no less valid for that.

A Past Future: chapter 29

You know how old science fiction tells you more about the time in which it was made than the future? I think Qf&p chapter 29, ‘Leadings’, is a bit like that. It was compiled for 1994, when this Book of Discipline was new.

Some of it stands, of course. Predictions about the future are about people, and people don’t change that much. 29.01 talks about walking with a smile into the dark – just as much of a challenge in any age. The situation in Northern Ireland has improved, but there are plenty of other places in the world where you can talk to the “men of violence” mentioned in 29.08.

On the other hand, a lot has also changed.

Some of the leadings which are seedlings in this chapter have grown and blossomed into flowers. 29.03 and 29.18 talk about what we now call sustainability. We have stuck with the inter-faith dialogue mentioned in 29.14, and this work has borne some fruits.

Some positions are clear and consistent but surrounding society hasn’t changed – at all, or in the direction we’d like. 29.09 talks about the arms trade – the technology has changed, but the trade is still happening and Quakers are still protesting it. 29.10 talks about not paying taxes for war purposes – but when I submitted my most recent tax return, HMRC provided me with a handy and horrifying graph to show that more of my money is spent on the military than the environment. (See Conscience for the ongoing campaign.) 29.12 and 29.13 were both written in 1987 – but the poverty they discuss is still very much part of British life in 2017.

Some issues haven’t been taken up by Quakers in the way the authors of these passages hoped they might be. 29.04 talks about the anti-vivisection movement: as far as I know, Quakers in Britain don’t have any united position on this, and while many would want to reduce animal suffering, many still eat meat, and I think most would accept that some medications are best tested on animals. As far as I can tell as a white person, the problems of assumptions about race and ethnicity identified in 29.15 are just as much of an issue now as ever.

Other issues which have been areas for Quaker discussion or even decision aren’t mentioned here. Questions about sexuality and marriage aren’t in this chapter (although they were, as I understand it, on the radar at Yearly Meeting 1994). Questions about gender diversity, assisted dying and end of life care, drug legalisation, and mental health don’t appear here, but have all been raised by meetings since this was written.

Which bits of this chapter do you relate to, and what feels outdated or absent?

Reading Qf&p: chapter 2

This blog post is later than I intended. Please address any complaints to The Common Cold, Rhiannon’s Sinuses, Probably On A Train, UK.

Chapter 2 is called “Approaches to God  worship and prayer”. It has the curious feature that while it focusses on experience and people’s personal practices, it deals with topics in which there is inherently a certain amount of theology – speculation, assumption, belief, or even (rarely in Quaker documents!) argument about the nature of that which we are approaching. This is not an explicit theme in this chapter, but it has come up more than once in discussions around it. For example, in this Facebook comment Craig identified the lesser-spotted ontological argument in 2.09.

A first question about this might be: does it matter? Are these ideas about the nature of ‘God’ significant, or should we be focussing on the experience? A second, following on from that, might be: can we separate them? Would it be possible to write about this topic, “approaches to God” without saying anything about the nature of God (or the Spirit, or the Light, or whatever you call it)?

I think that we probably cannot separate them. Certainly, I couldn’t write about my experience of worship without revealing some of the ideas and assumptions I have about that which I seek or respond to in worship. Even the ways I choose to describe the worship I prefer tell you something about those ideas: terms like “waiting”, “listening”, “silent” and “open” all hint at what kind of Divine I think or feel there might be, or what I think might happen. They might suggest attributes: present, quiet, speaking, unpredictable…

I also think there are levels at which this does matter. It seems to me to be important to acknowledge both that we might be wrong about the assumptions that we make, and that we do in fact have those assumptions and underlying ideas. We can’t get rid of them – sometimes, they’re embedded in the structure of our language (if you doubt this, try actually using the word ‘God’ as a verb for a significant period of time – it’s very difficult indeed to break out of the usual noun pattern). At other times, they’re embedded in our culture and history, and even if we can speak differently, we want to retain them.

In short, talking about our experience is very valuable, but the claim sometimes made by Friends that we can focus on spiritual experience and thereby not have to deal with ‘theology’ – with ideas about what underlies that experience – seems to me to be misleading.

Reading Qf&p Chapter 23: Social responsibility

“Evils which have struck their roots deep into the fabric of human society are often accepted, even by the best minds, as part of the providential ordering of life.” – William Charles Braithwaite, 1919, 23:05

Of all the memorable passages in the chapter, this one has remained with me since our discussion at Watford Meeting last Sunday. It raises a number of questions; some, obviously, are about what we should do about these evils once we know what they are, but I am more interested in the first stage – identifying them as evils. What injustice or other evil might I be unable to notice because it simply looks like the fabric of society?

History can help to illustrate some of the possibilities (slavery, disenfranchisement of women, colonialism, etc.), but of course the point is that we can see the evil in these social patterns very well with hindsight; people at the time struggled to see, and even now there are people who fall into the same patterns (of racism and xenophobia, for example). Some of these evils may mutate through time, taking many forms but apparently never disappearing (even in this country, let along worldwide, we are hardly free of anti-Semitism among many others). How can we come to see the evils which are in our society today?

Braithwaite suggests two ways. One is that there may eventually come a direct threat to human welfare arising from the evil in question – perhaps this is where we are with pollution and others issues around care for the environment today. Sometimes, though, people seem to be wilfully blind to suffering, even at home, even when their actions or states of society which benefit them are directly implicated. (It’s easy to be blind to suffering which can be declared someone else’s responsibility). Having identified these evils it is possible to create a plan for responding – how ineffective it is, I can at least write to my MP, donate to charity, or change my lifestyle in response to problems which I have identified and which are also at least partially visible to others in society.

The other way Braithwaite suggests we might bring these evils into the light is by ‘dragging’ them there, something he says will require people “of keen vision and heroic heart”. This is good; if we can see and name an injustice, we may be able to bring it to the attention of others, even if this is difficult.

It doesn’t solve the core problem, however. How do we see these things in the first place? I can sometimes see injustices which are being done to me – although I am often encouraged to view them as personal failings rather than social problems. I can sometimes see evils visited upon my nearest and dearest – although they may not see them in the same way. I also need to be listening to those of “keen vision and heroic heart” in other parts of society – people who through my blindness I might be inclined to discount or might never meet in the first place – in order to break through the blocks which my society, and my social training, set up.

TL;DR – the development of Quaker social testimony could benefits from insights from Standpoint Theory.