If I wanted to live by 1600s standards, I would be Amish

Recently I have read several contemporary Friends' writings that tries to align themselves with early Friends. I also have witnessed numerous occasions during discussions early Friends being brought up and used against others to bolster claims of un-Quakerly acts and thoughts. Are we listening to God or to our egos when we enlist early Friends to support our claims? These holier-than-thou statements help to reinforce deep divisions within Quakerism and drive people away.

For a long while, I have been frustrated with this problem of Holier-than-thou stances made by some Friends, but I have not been able to articulate my concern. As I have thought about this more, I realized that I had this same frustration for a long time with Christianity in general. I believe that the roots of Quakerism are fundamental to our faith, but Quakerism should not be fundamental towards the roots, because we are a faith of continuing revelations, which is a similar view I currently hold of Christianity. This is why we as Friends still gather each week in our communities to hear the continuing revelations from God. If we believe that early Friends really figured it all out, why should we still gather for waiting worship? Maybe we should then just study early Friends' writings for an hour, instead of having meeting for worship.

Personally I don't want to be an early Friend. I am a 21st Century Friend. I do indulge responsibly in the tavern culture, I like to date non-Quaker women, I enjoy listening to sermons at other churches on Sunday and several other things that early Friends frown upon.

Even with that statement, I do recognize the roots of Quakerism came from these valiant Friends, who under threats of jail and death, continue to speak out their convictions. They carried forth a powerful, revolutionary messages of peace, of continuing revelations, and of being able to have a personal relationship with the Lord without the need for an intermediary, all of which are still very relevant in today's world. They successfully sought to have equality in spoken language. I am grateful that I can trace my beliefs back to these roots, but my beliefs are updated to current day. I do not have to reconcile if I am willing to be hung in Boston Commons for what I believe, like Friends who first came to the New World, but I do consider how to maintain integrity while I am on the internet.

Quakerism today is very diverse and looks different than it did in 1660 or even 1850, just like the whole world has changed in the last 350 years. Quakerism has changed as the world has changed. As I look at the branches of Quakerism and reflect on my vast experiences with the different branches, I am amazed at how diverse our faith is and how thankful I have been to be able to worship with fellow Friends from all of the branches. Each branch have retained the essence of the roots, but each branch chooses different ways to live out the Quaker faith. We may disagree, but lets not forget that we are all related in this continued discernment.

These debates about who is truer to Early Friends turn people off to Quakerism and they are not relevant. For me, I am more interested in questions, like: What is God calling us to do today in this time? Our religion does have standards for accountability within the community by using Faith and Practice and the Bible as guides, so we do not need to hold ourselves accountable to people who died 300 years ago. For myself, I am attracted to monthly meetings and churches that are alive with the Holy Spirit, not ones trying to live according by 1600s standards. If I was, I would be Amish.

-Greg Woods

Musings on Radical Hospitality

Last fall at William Penn House, we were called to respond to why we were hosting Navy Midshipman for an evening conversation and allowing them to call what they do “service”. Among the sentiments that challenged us included: 1) being in the military is less about “service” and more about “murder”, and 2) that these young men and their peers were nothing more than pawns in the military industrial complex. During the evening, while people were civil (for the most part), what became clear was this: these young men were articulate and thoughtful. They could talk about their vision for the world and how they see what they do as serving that vision. They could articulate some of the ethical and moral dilemmas of serving. They talked about how the military community has, over the last decade, recognized that humanitarian work is vital to preventing unnecessary violence and casualties, citing the examples of the shift in strategy in Iraq and the creation of floating Navy hospitals that respond to such things as earthquakes and tsunamis.

What also happened that night was this: while these young men were calm and easily answered any and all questions, the questions from the people in the room were not up to the task. There were certainly some questions about specific acts of war and what these young men do when they don’t agree with the orders that come to them, but there was a lack of articulate questions grounded in the philosophy and practice of pacifism. There were passions and emotions, and there was a desire to ask good questions, but the ability to clearly state these questions was not there. What I saw was that the reactivity drowned out the peaceful messages that we seek to bring forth. So what can we do?

This brings me to Radical Hospitality. As we at William Penn House have adapted it and strive to practice (notice "strive"), it means “welcoming everyone as if he/she were Christ”, or in Quaker-speak, “seeing that of God in all”, or for the more secular among us, recognizing the goodness in people. To live this way takes a leap of faith – a leap that can take us right out of our comfort zone about what we have been taught to believe about good and bad in the world. But it does not at all mean being soft or wishy-washy. In fact it is quite the opposite: To me it means that if I really believe there is that of God in all, I want to see it in others and while I share mine with them. In order to do this, I have to do what I can to create a safe and respectful place. My experience is that this actually works in making the world a better place. One of the basic tenets is this, I’ve learned: we have to be fully willing to be wrong. It’s hard in our polarized work, but take gay rights, for example: if you ask people how they feel about laws supporting gay marriage, you’ll often get a “yes” or a “no”. But if you can hold a real conversation beyond the legislation, you often find a much more enriching conversation about the rights and responsibilities of legal couples. As a bonus, I’ve often found, people become more gay-affirming. They may not be where I am on the spectrum, but the gap between us has decreased when we see that, really, we want much of the same thing in the world. Just yesterday, in an almost "comedy of errors" way, when I was stopped by CIA security in Langley Hill VA, the ability to consciously practice this rather than get fearful or angry led to a positive experience where I saw a good person doing his job and, hopefully, a CIA policeman has another example of Quakers being good people, not just reactionary "peaceniks".

What are the keys to living this kind of spiritual and disciplined life? First, I readily acknowledge that I more often fail than succeed in accomplishing this, but I am doing better. I recently read a book called “In Praise of Doubt: How to hold convictions without being a fanatic”. It’s a great read, and really reassured me that there is a great need in our multicultural, multi-religious society for people to commit to the spiritual discipline of bridge-building for peace-making. It’s a calling that I think easily fits with Friends testimony when we can really push ourselves to put ego and self to the side, and consider that we are part of a much bigger societal fabric. It is a life practice that calls for curiosity (“seeking”), and realizing that there really is no “other”, there is just “us” in this world. Even for the military, it is not the alternative to peace. It’s there for those times when pacifism is just not up to the trick. When we can share in this, it’s a wonderful feeling.

Now the hard part for Friends: to learn to really do this often means that we be experts in listening – “bearing silent witness”. Just like running a marathon, however, we actually have to practice, not just think about it. So how well-trained are we at the art of listening? What can we do? Just as “there is no way to peace; peace is the way”, I would say “there is no way to listening; listening is the way.” Let’s get out there and practice it. Let’s step up our commitment to congregate with people of other faiths – and do the real hard work, congregate with those who not only have a different faith tradition but more importantly with those of the same faith but different interpretations and who may disagree with us on some of the issues of our times. When we feel the need to respond, let’s try and sit in appreciative silence. If we really believe in our faith, let’s put it into practice.

Demands and Petitions: Is this all we have?

The recent oil spill in the Gulf is awful. The impact of this environmental catastrophe is still to be told, but no doubt it is going to have a lasting effect on all of us. For this, my heart aches. I hate to see the wildlife that suffers so much because of our complacency, greed, and desires for comforts. I can't help but think during these times that we really seem to give little thought for the future generations, despite all the signs and opportunities to learn.

At the same time, I am pretty disgusted with the internet campaigns that are spreading from environmental and environmentally-minded groups right now. Take 350.org. Their mission is to inspire the world to rise to the challenge of the climate crisis—to create a new sense of urgency and of possibility for our planet. So what is their message regarding this oil spill? It's "a moment when we can help the US and its leaders understand the depth of their addiction to fossil fuel, and the real need to get off dirty energy now." What are their action steps? Sign a petition demanding clean energy now and no more drilling, join a facebook group, donate money, and then click through about how to build momentum in your community. Now look at 1Sky.org. They want you to print up a sign that says "No More Drilling/Clean Energy Now" - with the 1Sky logo on it; take it to the local BP station and protest them, demanding that BP be held responsible, take a picture of yourself, and send the picture to 1Sky.

Is this the best we can do? When 350.org talks about "their" addiction to fossil fuels, don't they really mean "our" addiction? When it comes to demands for energy, how about raising a stink among ourselves that we consume less? That we commit to driving less, and significantly changing our daily habits? That we stop using so many plastic bottles? (To see the impact of plastic water bottles, see http://www.williampennhouse.org/sites/default/files/Water%20and%20Bottles.pdf). If all we can do is make demands and shame people for "their" addictions, it's a bit hypocritical, I think. All that is going on is really a reflection of all of us, and until we decide to stop being victims to it and take proactive action in our daily lives, I suspect very little will change.

What Should I Eat? Community and the Individual

As Quakers, we talk a lot about community, one part of the handy SPICE testimony acronym. And in a world that often isolates and estranges us one from another, the idea of a real community gives us all sorts of warm fuzzies. As part of a true community we receive support, nurture and love. We find meaning in providing that same care to others and in identifying as a member of something bigger than ourselves. But as just one of many members in a community, these connections with others sometimes rub against, or even clash with, the individual. The group as a whole may have different needs or expectations than I, as an individual, do. Some other individuals in the community may feel strongly convicted about something in a way I do not. Greater society tells us when this happens that it is always the rights of the individual that override the constraints of the group. I, the individual, am the ultimate authority on all things pertaining to me.

But, is this the way that we, as Christians and Quakers, are called to live? Does this reflect the kingdom of God? Can I be part of a community and do whatever I want? To me, the answer seems clearly no. Jesus calls us to love one another, be in community with one another, and be members of a body. And sometimes this will mean that I will give up some of my individual agenda in order to be caring for others in the community.

As a newlywed committed to living her life jointly with another individual, this situation is often before me. In a somewhat mundane example, I like boxed macaroni and cheese, especially with tuna in it. My husband, Micah, is not a fan. And so, I choose to not eat boxed mac and cheese when we have dinner together, instead eating something we both will enjoy. Of course, I could say “I want macaroni and cheese and that’s what we’re having. So there.” I would then get what I want to eat, but I also would be selfish and choosing my own needs over those of a person I love. The beautiful thing about this situation is that I know that Micah would eat boxed mac and cheese for dinner because he knows I like it. He too would surrender his own agenda so that I could enjoy my cheesy noodles.

This surrender of our own demands so that others might be welcome and a full part of the community is part of being a family of faith. A youth pastor I knew growing up once told a story of a kid he had in his youth group who had been previously involved in some really dark satanic stuff. One day, the guy came over to the pastor’s house and his kids were watching a movie. The movie deeply disturbed the teenager as it reminded him of the satanic things he had been involved with and struggled to leave behind. The pastor turned the movie off and from then on when the guy came over the family made certain that movie and any related toys and games were put away. They themselves did not feel convicted about stopping watching and enjoying the movie, but they choose to not put a stumbling block in front of a brother.

For a third example of this balance between individual freedom and community, there are those among my friends who choose not to drink out of religious conviction. I personally do not feel convicted in this way. But when I am with these friends, I do not drink and a certainly do not suggest that we go out to a bar during our time together. It is the kind and understanding thing to do. I choose to abstain from behavior I would usually take part in so that I can be in fellowship with them.

That in one community there would be people who have different convictions on how we live out our life is nothing new. Paul felt the need to write in Romans advice on how to proceed when we differ on such things.

Accept other believers who are weak in faith, and don’t argue with them about what they think is right or wrong. For instance, one person believes it’s all right to eat anything. But another believer with a sensitive conscience will eat only vegetables. Those who feel free to eat anything must not look down on those who don’t. And those who don’t eat certain foods must not condemn those who do, for God has accepted them. Who are you to condemn someone else’s servants? Their own master will judge whether they stand or fall. And with the Lord’s help, they will stand and receive his approval. (Romans 14:1-4)

Paul goes on saying:

Don’t tear apart the work of God over what you eat. Remember, all foods are acceptable, but it is wrong to eat something if it makes another person stumble. It is better not to eat meat or drink wine or do anything else if it might cause another believer to stumble. You may believe there’s nothing wrong with what you are doing, but keep it between yourself and God. (Romans 14: 20-22)

And what is more loving for a community than that? I show I care for other’s by putting their needs above my own. By loving their spiritual health more than I love my freedom to do whatever I want. And as a reward for such a sacrifice, I also have my spirit cared for and am in communion with my brothers and sisters.

-Faith Kelley

Sacred Space

Yesterday afternoon a guest asked me, in tentative English, if there is a church here at the William Penn House. I told her yes, we have worship here every morning from 7:30 to 8. She then asked me where it was and if it was open now. I was confused for a moment and then realized that she when she asked about a “church” she was wondering about a physical space. I explained that we met for worship in the very unassuming conference room that she had been store her luggage in all day. She too was confused for a moment, but then realized what I was trying to tell her.

In this misunderstanding I was, once again, reminded of the very real temptation to view a certain space as being more sacred, more full of God’s presence, than other spaces. But of course, we’re all good Quakers here and never make that mistake. We point to it with the language we use, not calling our buildings “churches” but rather “meeting houses,” not wanting to blur the line between the community that is body of Christ and some drywall and bricks. We often explain to non-Quakers that we think that all of life is sacred. No one day of the week, no one space, no one physical object is more blessed then the rest. God created everything and continues to be among us and in us, making everything hallowed. The physical space is irrelevant. Only our openness to the Spirit’s moving in us in a particular moment matters.

When in town, I often attend Sunday morning worship at Takoma Park Preparative Meeting, which holds worship in a dance studio. We all have to take our shoes off so as not to scuff or dirty the floor and we sit in medal folding chairs. There’s only a small window high on the wall and the rest of the lighting is florescent bulbs. This is nothing about the space the cries, “Communion with the Creator of the Universe going on here!” But God is there making the space sacred, when we are attentive enough to notice and respond.

But do I really live my life this way? Certainly I enter the National Cathedral here in Washington with more reverence and awe than, say, I enter my bathroom, for example. The cathedral is large and grand. It has an altar, stain glass and stone. My bathroom is small and normal. It has an old tub, linoleum and a leaky skylight. (Part of difference in attitude might also have to do with how often one space gets cleaned versus the other too.) The beauty of the National Cathedral makes me feel like I am closer to God there than my bathroom; even though I claim to know God that exists and can make himself known in both spaces equally.

If I was to live my life really in the truth that God has made all and is present always, what would it look like? Would I be more centered and aware? Would I notice God’s working in the suburban sprawl as much as in a forest? Would I be closer to living my life as one continuous act of worship? I am not making an argument that everything is beautiful- certainly a Wendy’s parking lot is less beautiful then Sequoia National Forest. But God is there in both those spaces. Miracles and epiphanies can happen in both those places. God calls us to be part of his work in the world in both places. The parking lot and the forest, the cathedral and the conference room are all part of the sacred space that makes up our lives.

-Faith Kelley

Middle school students participating in an after school music/theater program in DC
Women from Kenya, Tanzania, Cameroon and Uganda working in HIV/AIDS here in the states while supporting children in their home countries
A DC resident artist from Cameroon
8 exchange students from China
8 students from a PA private school
3 high school students from Hiroshima
1 Holocaust survivor

This is just a sampling of the range of people I have had the honor of crossing paths with, working with and sharing meals with over the past 6 weeks.

One of the things I am really learning to appreciate about working at William Penn House is the amazing diversity of people that we get to meet, and how, in meeting all these people, we see not how different we are, but how similar we are.

What is so incredibly moving to me is that people really do want to be a part of making the world a better place despite, in some cases, incredible adversity. The adversity of each person also brings a different level of gift to the world. The students from Hiroshima and the Holocaust survivor are/were visiting DC as part of telling stories of reconciliation and healing. The artist and the music/theater students are using the opportunities of the creative arts to tell stories and to bring their voices to the world - stories not of gloom and doom, but of hope and love.

In our most recent newsletter, Faith Kelley wrote that what we do at William Penn House is provide a space for conversation and a place of welcomeness, and then get out of the way so that new things can happen. I am really learning to appreciate this as a means of making the world a more peaceful and hopeful place. It means making a conscious effort and commitment to being open to the possibilities - not an easy task and not always achievable, but as the past few months have shown me, well worth the effort.

In Praise of Doubt

I just finished a book called "In Praise of Doubt: How to Have Convictions Without Becoming a Fanatic" by Peter Berger and Anton Zijderveld. I had first heard of this book when I heard Berger on the Public Radio program "Speaking of Faith" in the fall, and then I hear him speak at the National Cathedral's Sunday forum a few weeks ago.

I knew from the very first minute that this book might very much "speak my mind" and know that I've finished it, I know this is so. I can also say that I suspect there is much in these pages that could benefit the Religious Society of Friends.

Increasingly, I am seeing myself as a 'bridge-builder'. Going back to my "coming out" days, when the conservative/military side of my family stunned me by being the only part of the family to unconditionally accept me, and continuing through my days of working with evangelical Christians on HIV and subsequently gay issues, and now in DC building bridges across the economic and geographic parts of this city, I see that this is something that, while not always easy or successful, comes natural. What I am clear about, however, is that I am not wishy-washy on issues. I am convinced that we need to have a cleaner environment, a less-consumer/greed driven society, and more equal footing from which all people start this journey of life. I also know that most people have the same basic values I have, but they may have different ideas of how to get there, where authority lies, who should call the shots, etc.

I am also convinced of this: no matter what a person believes, his/her intentions are good, he/she is intelligent, and love is some part of the equation. To be sure, there are fanatics, as Berger and Zijderveld write. "Fanatics" are those extremists who exist at the ends of any spectrum, and are convinced that their world view and their way is the only right way and, often, those who don't see it their way are clueless, amoral, unChristian, unAmerican, or some other demonized being. I try to not let that be me. I have run into my fair share of fanatics - both left and right - and what I find is that there is little room for dialogue, so really there is not much to be said, even though they, too, are often motivated by love (usually with a mix of fear and power). It is between the margins that I am convinced that the real possibility for transformation exists, for creating a more peaceful and just world.

In our modern society, it seems that we could use more civility as we deal with the problems that face us. No matter what the issue, leaders of the causes of these issues tend to push a "with us/against us" paradigm. For Quakers, this creates a dilemma: are we going to choose sides on issues, or are we going to try and bring greater civility (peace) to the discussion by committing to see the "others" perspective? To what extent do we achieve our aims by making the other "wrong", vs. being open to possibly being wrong ourselves? In a pluralist society, these are inherent challenges, and I truly believe that it is the Peace congregations and pacifists who could really take up this mantel of finding common ground. It is going to take a disciplined life, but it is something we can do. "In Praise of Doubt", similar to another book called "Blind Spots: Why Smart People Do Dumb Things", are great resources for grounding us in this without sacrificing what we believe.

As a tangent: "In Praise of Doubt" also raised a question of how we reactively respond to and adopt understanding of things without thinking more deeply. An example of this was in the discussion of liberalism, conservatism and socialism as the 3 points of the "democratic" triangle. Taken to extremes, liberalism goes to absolutist understanding of the market (libertarian), socialism goes toward a totalitarian control of institutions, and conservatism is a reactionary project of going back to some traditional sense of society. As moderating forces (basically bringing the best of each together), conservatism glorifies civil society (in modern day this means a democratic state and market economy), whereas liberalism and socialism understand the limits of both state (socialism) and market (liberalism). This understanding of liberalism is not one I had heard, but does raise the question: what do we really mean when we use the terms "liberal" and "conservative" to either define ourselves or the other?