As I said at the time …
In these reflections on Quaker practice, I’ve tried to avoid overt theology. Leave that for messages in worship or for “nuts and bolts” workshops. My focus has been largely on ways our faith comes together in community and some of the quirky sides to that.
This time, though, I want to remind us that the foundation of Meeting is our experience with the Divine – by whatever name we use, or however personal or transcendent the relationship. What is often seen as a tension between peace-action Friends and contemplative ones – or universalist and Christocentric, depending on the particular discussion – can be turned on its head: in Beyond Majority Rule, Jesuit Michael J. Sheeran argued “the real cleavage among Friends is between those who experience the gathered or covered condition and those who do not.” How astute!
There’s a difference between Quaker culture and Quaker faith itself. Since most of us in Dover Meeting weren’t raised Quaker, we’re not steeped in the culture, but we’ve adopted it, to whatever degree, in our own lives all the same. (Or at least like to think we have.) It’s more subtle than it was in the days of Plain speech and dress, but it’s there all the same. The faith part, of course, is at the heart of our worship.
We can ask ourselves if we were led to Meeting more by the culture or by the faith, and then ask how one activates the other. Jim Wallis, the evangelical editor of Sojourner, sees social action arising from the faith as an imperative. In a similar vein, one might see how central the Peace Testimony is in the teachings of Jesus, and how hollow the Christian message is without it. One lights up the other when the culture and faith move together.
Using the language that’s come to represent my experience, this is what happens with Christ amongst us. How do you express it?
Jnana's Red Barn 
I’m not sure I understand what you’re trying to express, before I try to express it in my terms. Perhaps you could say something about what the Peace Testimony is?
Quakers believe that participation in armed conflict — or more broadly, physical violence — is contrary to the spirit and teaching of Christ. This includes bearing of arms, but for some includes refusal to pay taxes that support military expenditures. As you may expect, it gets complicated — and it often runs against the grain of national passions.
That, I understand. I’m a pacifist in a culture currently celebrating war far more than I like (the centenary of ANZAC) and so my faith becomes strongly counter-cultural.
There’s something there about the importance of courage and integrity, and how faith needs to undergird both before we can set our faces against an often-hostile culture.
Is that sort of what you mean?
In part, yes, especially as faith leads shapes and prompts our daily actions.
The other part, though, is just how we describe or define or express our encounter with the Divine — something other than the usual words of creeds. I sense that your use of “courage” and “integrity” here points toward that.
What I’m hoping for is a way around what St. Paul calls the stumbling blocks — so that each individual can deepen a holy relationship with our Source.
I suspect I had some “non-theist” people in mind when I wrote this, but finding an authentic language for our hearts remains a challenge.
Oh, I don’t think I can help much there. I get all apophatic when it comes to describing encounter with the Divine.
The words which resonate most are probably ones like dynamic, transformative, even ecstatic (in its old sense of standing outside oneself – or at least, what one has known oneself to be).
Yes, but have you noticed how when it gets personal like that, other people are more willing to listen? It’s no longer theoretical or speculative, but something we feel in our hearts and blood and breath and …
Well, that points us toward particular Scriptural passages, right? In a fresh way, I hope.
I’m not sure that I have noticed that, exactly…
It’s an interesting question. I find, though, that many of my random conversations on this sort of topic now start because I am visibly identifiable as a “God-person;” people see the clerical collar on a (relatively) young woman and want to know what that’s about. So the personal account for me often starts with explaining what it means to be a priest, and that colours the whole conversation.
Not that that’s bad, or good, but probably just very different.