From Google Insights, a new service that tracks popularity of certain search phrases over time. See the chart here.
Warning: insider Quaker conversation to follow.
Over on her blog Robin M has a great post looking at the Convergent Friend conversation now. It’s kind of State of the Convergent Friends report. It’s very good and well worth a read and makes me wonder again where exactly I stand.
Even though I was around at the gestation and birth of the term, and even though it originally referred to a small group of bloggers who I all love, I go back and forth between using and refusing to use the label. I don’t feel the need to always be explicitly “convergent.” Sometimes I can just embody the spirit of it, which as a renewal movement is really just the same old spirit of Quakerism, which as its own renewal movement is the same old spirit of Christianity, with is just that spirit which animates the world.
See: it’s too easy to throw up terms as a defense shield or as a way of boosting ourselves. I know I’m prone to this trap. I’ll say “I’m doing this as a [Convergent Friend/Quaker/Christian]” as if that explains anything, as if careful listening to the Holy Spirit isn’t all the authority that any of us needs.
I think a central part of the convergent experience is stepping outside of the institutional boxes and walking into the discomfort zone of our brand of Friends – asking the thorny questions and pointing out the inconvenient elephants. If “Convergent Friend” ever settles down into a set definition and annual rituals (like a Gathering interest group?), we’ll see our own brier patches take root along those inconvenient pathways.
I’ve noticed Friends with bright ideas brand and sell themselves, and have wondered to myself how freely the gospel spirit is moving after ten years of Gathering workshops and Pendle Hill workshops. I’m not so much purist that I don’t understand that sometimes those of us led to the ministry have to push through doubts and present things we’ve promised to present even if we’re not in the best mood (praying that we find that groove). But I’ve also sat through committee meetings that felt like the Bill Murray movie Groundhog Day, where I look around and realize the same people have been sitting in the same room having the same conversation for twenty years, and everyone is just so tired and the feeling is they’re all reading a script and would want to be anywhere but where they are.
A friendly amendment to Convergent
Just the last thing is that for me if our work isn’t ultimately rooted in sharing the good news then it’s self-indulgent. I don’t want to create a little oasis or hippy compound of happy people. Friends aren’t going to go to heaven in our politically-correct smugness while the rest of the world is dying off. It’s all of us or none of us. If we’re not actively evangelizing <liberal translation: sharing the spiritual insights and gifts we’ve been given />, then we are part of the problem. “Convergence” is Quaker lingo. When we say it we’re turning our back to the world to talk amongst ourselves: a useful exercise occassionally but not our main work.
I’ve been reading a lot of seeker blogs where Quakers are mentioned and I’m struck by how so many of the words we routinely use in our blogs and self-statements are totally alien to others.
It may be too late to throw a switch on the quickly-gathering-steam train that is the “Convergent Friends” express. But here’s my friendly amendment: Convergent Friends need to be ready to get out of the Quaker conference centers and need to be ready to put aside the Quaker arcana we’ve accumulated over the years. If all we’re doing is sitting around talking to roomfulls of Quakers in our hopeless-inaccessible lingo then we’re fooling ourselves that any real renewal is happening.
Frankly, I have no idea what this would look like. I’m as clueless and scared by the possibilities as most of y’all. I just know we need to do it. Even if I had all the travel money and time in the world (I have neither), I don’t know if I’d have enough motivation to get to the next Barnesville / Greensboro / Richmond / Newberg / wherever conference (I just realized I’m reinforcing my last Quaker post!). I love meeting other Friends and I soooo miss seeing other Friends in my current relative isolation. But. But. I wish I had a better ending to this post. I guess I’ll just throw it out to the comments: what are we being called to do to send this work into the world?
It’s been a fascinating education learning about institutional Catholicism these past few weeks. I won’t reveal how and what I know, but I think I have a good picture of the culture inside the bishop’s inner circle and I’m pretty sure I understand his long-term agenda. The current lightening-fast closure of sixty-some churches is the first step of an ambitious plan; manufactured priest shortages and soon-to-be overcrowded churches will be used to justify even more radical changes. In about twenty years time, the 125 churches that exist today will have been sold off. What’s left of a half million faithful will be herded into a dozen or so mega-churches, with theology borrowed from generic liberalism, style from feel-good evangelicalism, and organization from consultant culture.
When diocesan officials come by to read this blog (and they do now), they will smile at that last sentence and nod their heads approvingly. The conspiracy is real.
But I don’t want to talk about Catholicism again. Let’s talk Quakers instead, why not? I should be in some meeting for worship right now anyway. Julie left Friends and returned to the faith of her upbringing after eleven years with us because she wanted a religious community that shared a basic faith and that wasn’t afraid to talk about that faith as a corporate “we.” It seems that Catholicism won’t be able to offer that in a few years. Will she run then run off to the Eastern Orthodox church? For that matter should I be running off to the Mennonites? See though, the problem is that the same issues will face us wherever we try to go. It’s modernism, baby. No focused and authentic faith seems to be safe from the Forces of the Bland. Lord help us.
We can blog the questions of course. Why would someone who dislikes Catholic culture and wants to dismantle its infrastructure become a priest and a career bureaucrat? For that matter why do so many people want to call themselves Quakers when they can’t stand basic Quaker theology? If I wanted lots of comments I could go on blah-blah-blah, but ultimately the question is futile and beyond my figuring.
Another piece to this issue came in some questions Wess Daniels sent around to me and a few others this past week in preparation for his upcoming presentation at Woodbrooke. He asked about how a particular Quaker institution did or did not represent or might or might not be able to contain the so-called “Convergent” Friends movement. I don’t want to bust on anyone so I won’t name the organization. Let’s just say that like pretty much all Quaker bureaucracies it’s inward-focused, shallow in its public statements, slow to take initiative and more or less irrelevant to any campaign to gather a great people. A more successful Quaker bureaucracy I could name seems to be doing well in fundraising but is doing less and less with more and more staff and seems more interested in donor-focused hype than long-term program implementation.
One enemy of the faith is bureaucracy. Real leadership has been replaced by consultants and fundraisers. Financial and staffing crises – real and created – are used to justify a watering down of the message. Programs are driven by donor money rather than clear need and when real work might require controversy, it’s tabled for the facade of feel-goodism. Quaker readers who think I’m talking about Quakers: no I’m talking about Catholics. Catholic readers who think I’m talking about Catholics: no, I’m talking about Quakers. My point is that these forces are tearing down religiosity all over. Some cheer this development on. I think it’s evil at work, the Tempter using our leader’s desires for position and respect and our the desires of our laity’s (for lack of a better word) to trust and think the best of its leaders.
So where does that leave us? I’m tired of thinking that maybe if I try one more Quaker meeting I’ll find the community where I can practice and deepen my faith as a Christian Friend. I’m stumped. That first batch of Friends knew this feeling: Fox and the Peningtons and all the rest talked about isolation and about religious professionals who were in it for the career. I know from the blogosphere and from countless one-on-one conversations that there are a lot of us – a lot – who either drift away or stay in meetings out of a sense of guilt.
So what would a spiritual community for these outsider Friends look like? If we had real vision rather than donor vision, what would our structures look like? If we let the generic churches go off to out-compete one other to see who can be the blandest, what would be left for the rest of us to do?
I guess this last paragraph is the new revised mission statement for the Quaker part of this blog. Okay kids, get a step stool, go to your meeting library, reach up high, clear away the dust and pull out volume one of “A portraiture of Quakerism: Taken from a view of the education and discipline, social manners, civil and political economy, religious principles and character, of the Society of Friends” by Thomas Clarkson. Yes the 1806 version, stop the grumbling. Get out the ribbed packing tape and put its cover back together – this isn’t the frigging Library of Congress and we’re actually going to read this thing. Don’t even waste your time checking it out in the meeting’s logbook: no one’s pulled it down off the shelf in fifty years and no one’s going to miss it now. Really stuck?, okay Google’s got it too. Class will start shortly.
One of the things I liked about my old Quaker job is that I occasionally had a moment in between all of the staff meetings (and meetings about staff meetings, and meetings about meetings about staff meetings, I kid you not) to take interesting calls and emails from Friends wanting to talk about the state of Friends in their area: how to start a worship group if no Friends existed, how to revitalize a local Meeting, how to work through some growing pains or cultural conflicts. I’ve thought about replicating that on the blog, and halfway through responding to one of tonight’s emails I realized I was practically writing a blog post. So here it is. Please feel free to add your own responses to this Friend in the comments.
Dear Martin
I have read that Meetings that are
silent for long periods of time often wither away. But I can’t remember where I
read that, or if the observation has facts to back it up. Do you know of any
source where I can look this up?
Thanks,
CC
Dear CC,
I
can’t think of any specific source for that observation. It is
sometimes used as an argument against waiting worship, a prelude to the
introduction of some sort of programming. While it’s true that too much
silence can be a warning sign, I suspect that Meetings that talk too
much are probably also just as likely to wither away (at least to
Inward Christ that often seems to speak in whispers). I think the
determining factor is less decibel level but attention to the workings
of the Holy Spirit.
One of the main roles of ministry is to teach. Another is to remind
us to keep turning to God. Another is to remind us that we live by
higher standards than the default required by the secular world in
which we live. If the Friends community is fulfilling these functions
through some other channel than ministry in meeting for worship then
the Meeting’s probably healthy even if it is quiet.
Unfortunately there are plenty of Meetings are too silent on all
fronts. This means that the young and the newcomers will have a hard
time getting brought into the spiritual life of Friends. Once upon a
time the Meeting annually reviewed the state of its ministry as part of
its queries to Quarterly and Yearly Meetings, which gave neighboring
Friends opportunities to provide assistance, advise or even ministers.
The practice of written answers to queries have been dropped by most
Friends but the possibility of appealing to other Quaker bodies is
still a definite possibility.
Your Friend, Martin
Interesting reading today about how our Quaker structures can choke the Spirit and hem in our communities. Johan M is no stranger to Quaker institutions, but in “Clerk Please” he writes:
But who will see and proclaim these things to new audiences if we are so busy trying to sort out our structures, nomination processes, and interpersonal animosities that we don’t take the time to discern and honor leadings?
Susanne K echos some of these themes in her latest post, “Quakerism and Structure”:
One of the key parts of George Fox’s revelation was that religious structures can kill the free movement of the Spirit… My Ffriend R has advocated the practice of disbanding the Religious Society of Friends every 50 years. He believes that the spark of the initial vision and passion of religious groups only survives for about 50 years before developing structures start to choke the movement of the Spirit.
It’s been about eighteen months since I was sidelined from the professional Quaker world (I work for some Quakers now, but on a contract basis and the relationship is much different). A year or two before this, my monthly meeting melted down and more or less devolved into a worship group and while I’ve found a more active meeting to attend, it’s not particularly close and I haven’t joined.
The result of these two changes is that I haven’t sat in a staff meeting for over a year; I don’t attend business meetings; I don’t belong to any committees; I don’t represent any group at conferences. After years of being what Evan Welkin called an uberQuaker, I’m an uninvolved slacker. Bad Martin, right?
Except I’m not uninvolved of course. I feel I’m doing as much now to help people find and grow into Quakerism than I did when I was paid to do this. I don’t spend much time with that 2% skim of Quaker elite who attend all the same conferences and appoint each other to all the same committees, but then catering to their needs was pretty high maintenance and was never something I thought of as the real mission.
Suzanne talks about the “Sabbatical Year” meme, and of course lots of electrons fly about the blogosphere about the possibilities of the Emerging Church movement. There’s a hunger for a different way of being a Friend. I know one Quaker who threatens to burn down the famous meetinghouse he worships in because he feels that the building has become an empty icon, a weight of bricks upon the Spirit (I’ll leave him anonymous in case something mysterious happens to the meetinghouse tonight!). How tragic would it be, really, if some of institutional baggage was laid down and we had to find other ways to confirm and support one another’s ministries?
I love teaching Quakerism, I love helping Quakers use the internet for outreach and I love reaching out to potential Friends with my writing. I’m doing all that without committees or staff meetings. No budgets to fight over, no mission statements to write.
Half a decade ago now I wrote about the “lost Quaker generation,” active and visionary Gen X Friends who seemed to be dropping out in droves. We’re all keeping in better touch now via Facebook but I haven’t noticed much jumping back into the fray. What I have noticed is a phenomenon where Friends half a generation older are taking on Quaker responsibilities only to drop away from active meeting involvement when their terms ended.
If we could pull together all of the dropouts together and start meetings that focused on worship, religious education and deep-community activities, I think we’d see something interesting. I envy those with less-musty, Gen‑X heavy meetings nearby (Robin M showcased her meeting recently). And don’t get me wrong: I also love the old Quaker ideal of the strong local Quaker community and the bonds of the community on the individual, etc., etc. But I don’t see meetings like that anywhere nearby and the only clear leading I really have is to continue this “freelance” teaching, writing and organizing. It’s not the situation I want but it’s the situation I have and at this point I have to just trust the leadings as they come step by step and have faith they’re going somewhere. Boy though, I wish I knew where all this was heading sometimes!
For any bleeding edge Web 2.0 Quakers out there, there’s now a QuakerQuaker FriendFeed account to go along with its Twitter account. Both accounts simply spit out the QuakerQuaker RSS feed but there might be some practical uses. I actually follow QQ primary by Twitter these days and those who don’t mind annoying IM pop-ups could get instant alerts.
Web 2.0 everywhere man Robert Scoble recently posted that many of his conversations and comments have moved away from his blog and over to FriendFeed. I don’t see that occurring anytime soon with QQ but I’ll set the accounts up and see what happens. I’ve hooked my own Twitter and FriendFeed accounts up with QuakerQuaker, so that’s one way I’m cross-linking with this possible overlay of QQ.
For what it’s worth I’ve always assumed that QQ is relatively temporary, an initial meeting ground for a network of online Friends that will continue to expand into different forms. I’m hoping we can pick the best media to use and not just jump on the latest trends. As far as the Religious Society of Friends is concerned, I’d say the two most important tests of a new media is it’s ability to outreach to new people and its utility in helping to construct a shared vision of spiritual renewal.
On these test, Facebook has been a complete failure. So many promising bloggers have disappeared and seem to spend their online time swapping suggestive messages on Facebook (find a hotel room folks) or share animated gifs with 257 of their closed “friends.” Quaker Friends tend to be a clannish bunch and Facebook has really fed into that (unfortunate) part of our persona. Blogging seemed to be resuscitating the idea of the “Public Friend,” someone who was willing to share their Quaker identity with the general public. That’s still happening but it seems to have slowed down quite a bit. I’m not ready to close my own Facebook account but I would like to see Friends really think about which social media we spend our time on. Friends have always been adapting – railroads, newspapers, frequently flier miles have all affected how we communicate with each other and the outside world. Computer networking is just the latest wrinkle.
As a personal aside, the worst thing to happen to my Quaker blogging has been the lack of a commute (except for a short hop to do some Haddonfield web design a few times a week). I’m no longer stranded on a train for hours a week with nothing to do but read the journal of Samuel Bownas or throw open my laptop to write about the latest idea that flits through my head. Ah the travails of telecommuting!
A recent article on the art and science of taste and smell in the New Yorker had a paragraph that stood out for me. The author John Lanchester had just shared a moment where he suddenly understood the meaning behind “grainy,” a term that had previously been an esoteric wine descriptor. He then writes:
The idea that your palate and your vocabulary expand simultaneously
might sound felicitous, but there is a catch. The words and the
references are really useful only to people who have had the same
experiences and use the same vocabulary: those references are to a
shared basis of sensory experience and a shared language. To people who
haven’t had those shared experiences, this way of talking can seem like
horse manure, and not in a good way.
How might this apply to Quakerism? A post-modernist philosopher might argue that our words are our experience and their argument would be even stronger for communal experiences. I once spent a long afternoon worrying whether the colors I saw were really the same colors others saw: what if what I interpreted as yellow was the color others saw as blue? After turning around the riddle I ended up realizing it didn’t matter as long as we all could point to the same color and give it the same name.
But what happens when we’re not just talking about yellow. Turning to the Crayola box, what if we’re trying to describe the yellowish colors apricot, dandelion, peach and the touch-feely 2008 “super happy”. Being a Crayola connoisseur requires an investment not only in a box of colored wax but also in time: the time needed to experience, understand and take ownership in the various colors.
Religion can be a like wine snobbery. If you take the time to read the old Quaker journals and reflect on your spiritual experiences you can start to understand what the language means. The terms stop being fussy and obscure, outdated and parochial. They become your own religious vocabulary. When I pick up an engaging nineteenth journal (not all are!) and read stories about the author’s spiritual up and downs and struggles with ego and community, I smile with shared recognition. When I read an engaging historian’s account of some long-forgotten debate I nod knowing that many of the same issues are at the root of some blogospheric bruhaha.
Of course I love outreach and want to share the Friends “sensory experience.” One way to do that is to strip the language and make it all generic. The danger of course is that we’re actually changing the religion when we’re change the language. It’s not the experience that makes us Friends – all people of all spiritual persuasions have access to legitimate religious experiences no matter how fleeting, misunderstood or mislabeled. We are unique in how we frame that experience, how we make sense of it and how we use the shared understanding to direct our lives.
We can go the other direction and stay as close to our traditional language as possible, demanding that anyone coming into our religious society’s influence take the time to understand us on our terms. That of course opens us to charges of spreading horse manure, in Lanchester’s words (which we do sometimes) and it also means we threaten to stay a small insider community. We also forget to speak “normal,” start thinking the language really is the experience and start caring more about showing off our vocabulary than about loving God or tending to our neighbors.
I don’t see any good way out of this conundrum, no easy advice to wrap a post up. A lot of Friends in my neck of the woods are doing what I’d call wink-wink nudge-nudge Quakerism, speaking differently in public than in private (see this post) but I worry this institutionalizes the snobbery and excuses the manure, and it sure doesn’t give me much hope. What if we saw our role as taste educators? For want of a better analogy I wonder if there might be a Quaker version of Starbucks (yes yes, Starbucks is Quaker, I’m talking coffee), a kind of movement that would educate seekers at the same time as it sold them the Quaker experience. Could we get people excited enough that they’d commit to the higher costs involved in understanding us?
My friend Kevin-Douglas emailed recently about a new worship group he’s helped to start in downtown Baltimore. It sounds like some of the other Christ-center worship groups that have been popping up the shadow of established Quaker meetings. It’s consciously small and home-based, taking place at a non-traditional time with an implicit Emergent Church flavor. Experienced Friends are involved (I know KD from FGC’s Central Committee for example) and while it’s formed next to and out of large, active meetings, it’s not schismatic.
I asked KD if I could put his description up as a “guest post.’ I’m hoping a post here can let more seekers and Friends in Baltimore know about it. But beyond that, there’s a definite small movement afoot and I thought Ranter readers might be interested in the example (here are a few others: Laughing Waters and Chattahoochee (thanks to Bill Samuel for the last link, some of these are indexed in his helpful Friends Christian Renewal listing).
From KD:
Before R. got sick and eventually died, we had been thinking of
hosting an informal meeting for worship in the manner of Friends at our
house that would be explicitly Christ-centered. We aren’t talking
Christian Orthodoxy here, but rather with the understanding of all
involved that we come together to explore our faith through the
teachings of Jesus and those who came before and after him. It would
be Quaker in that we’d follow in the tradition of Quaker Christians,
gaining from their wisdom and experience.Now, the Spirit is leading me back to this.
So, what is going on?
I
very much appreciate universalism as a world view. I in no way believe
that Christianity is the only way. I do believe, however, that Jesus is
the Way, Truth and the Life. The Way being one of love and compassion,
of justice and sincere seeking of that mystery that I call God. I
don’t think Jesus was the only one who brought that way, but I do see
his way as leading to God, and that by his Way, we can get to God. It
doesn’t matter to me whether he was or is God; I do see him as a
sacrament, a way to God. For me he is the way to God. He is living. I know this experientially.So
I want to share in this with others. I want to sit in silence, or sing
in praise, or consider a query, scripture or word of advice from
Friends past with others who also want to know God through Christ. I’m
not concerned about theology. IT’s about experience for me. I don’t
mind if those who don’t “know Jesus” come, as I know God can speak
through all. If those who come and don’t consider themselves
Christian are willing to wrestle with the teachings of Jesus and his
ancestors and his followers, then I say WELCOME! I’m not set on form
either. I do prefer unprogrammed worship, but I mean that literally:
that we don’t necessarily set a program, but that there indeed may be
silence or a query, scripture or advice read at the beginning of
worship. Perhaps candles are lit, maybe even *gasp* incense! I don’t
feel the need to be bound to our puritan roots and yet I feel the
wisdom of allowing the Spirit to direct the worship is a wisdom we
should continue to follow. I believe in experiential and experimental
worship. Perhaps we have the Friends hymnal available and one may feel
led to sing from it and others can join if they too feel led. As for
now, it’s been completely unprogrammed worship as one would find in
most Conservative Friends meetings. As for community, I hope God will
gather together a community where we do recognize ministries and gifts
perhaps in the way that Friends have done so traditionally but maybe in
radically new ways! I’m so tired of Evangelical/Liberal/Conservative labels. Can we just be Friends?I do so love being Quaker. I do so love Jesus. I hope to find a community where these are wed without qualifications.
We meet third Sundays of every month at a home (Mine right now) from 5 – 6pm and are listed in Quaker Finder:
Downtown Baltimore Worship Group
Christ-centered, unprogrammed worship is generally held on the 3rd Sunday of the month at 5:00 PM in a home. Follow link for current details.