WITH OR WITHOUT A PULPIT

If I speak of pastoral Friends, it’s often because I often see there some attempts to respond to problems we, too, face. There are ways their side has adapted from broader society, just as we have, in our own manner. We typically share periods of open worship, though theirs are admittedly much shorter and often filled with prayer requests. We share some common difficulties, starting with the “herding cats” problem or the attempt to transport a hundred frogs in a wheelbarrow; at least we don’t have to go through the trials of hiring or firing a pastor. But there are times, admittedly, when I wish we had someone who could devote more full attention to the demands of our Meeting.

Visiting among pastoral Friends can be challenging, as well as rewarding. There are often differences in language and understanding – same-gender marriage being one. Sometimes we can see ways we fail to reach out into the wider community; I recall one minister telling of making a pastoral call here in New England, where he entered the kitchen of one of his parishioners to find the man seated under a bare light bulb, wearing an undershirt, smoking, and drinking a can of beer. “I go because it’s the neighborhood church,” the pastor was told, as if we should be so inviting. Sometimes it’s the insights from our Puente connection, and the life of Cuban Friends as a community of faith. These encounters certainly help me look at Dover Meeting from fresh perspectives.

Some of the most interesting dialogue among Friends has been happening in the journal, Quaker Religious Thought, which is found in our Meeting library. It’s not just that we share a common root, but also that we face a common future that fascinates me. Often, our experience has more in common than we might care to admit. Sometimes there’s even strength in numbers.