From Bill Taber’s The Theology of the Inward Imperative: Ministry of the Middle Period
The “awfulness” of becoming a minister lay partly in the high expectations which the Friends placed on their ministers, for they expected everything and nothing all at the same time. Ministers were to do everything which the Light, the Master, the Guide, the Heavenly Father (to use some of the various names) required of them; they were supposed to follow every intimation and speak every word given them in the light. Thus mothers or fathers might have to leave family, work, and friends for years while they traveled, not knowing when the Spirit would allow them to return. On the other hand nothing was expected of them if they felt no immediate leading, not, of course, could they ever prepare for any sermon. Thus each new meeting, each new family visit was a fresh test of faith in which one might be called to rise without knowing what was to be said, or what difficult or perplexing words might come forth; even worse, a well-known minister might be required to remain silent throughout a meeting called just for him…
Thus, as their journals make very clear, they experienced the body of Christ not as a metaphor but as a living climate or organism from which — as well as in which — they functioned. They saw themselves not as separate leaders but as extensions of the one Life and Power. They dwelt together with the other members in the same pool of the divine presence which blended all souls together in a wonderful unity. Although Quaker ministers were expected to be very good examples of the Quaker way of life, they were not required to be leaders all the time; they could sink back into the nurture and unity of the body until such times as they were clearly called to stand forth for the Lord. They knew that if they were “faithful,” he would give them both words and power, or the “matter and the “life.” Yet even so, each new meeting was a renewed test of faith; as Hannah Stratton (1825 – 1903) of Ohio Yearly Meeting (Conservative) put it near the end of her life, “it don’t get easy.”
Ever since I found Friends at age 20, I’ve been drawn to this rather serious vision of ministry, with its strict demand for a complete trust in the Holy Spirit’s prompting in the moment. It’s not easy to square with modern Quaker practices. I’m due to lead 5.5 hours of a workshop next week; the topic and times are set. But maybe this dilemma is not so very new. Traveling ministers in the quietist “middle period” that Tabor describes had itineraries and meetings called for them (as for the minister of his story that was led to stay silent for a called worship).
How do you prepare when you shouldn’t prepare? Perhaps by spending part of a Saturday afternoon reading an old Bill Tabor pamphlet that’s not on a topic you’re expected to lead on the following week.
I’m reading Tabor’s essay in Quaker Religious Thought number 50, autumn 1980.