Tag: Inspiration

QUERIES IN THE SOCIAL HOUR

~ Jnana Hodson ~ 3 Comments

Some of the most profound and lasting messages I’ve received among Friends have come outside of the Meeting for Worship – and often as questions. It may surprise many of you to learn that in my first years with Quakers, I was generally pretty hostile to anything smacking of Christianity. And yet seeds were planted. I recall, for instance, Norris Wentworth’s observation while giving me a lift in his car – something to the effect that because America has an underlying Christian mindset, Eastern religions would have trouble taking root here.

Or “What do you think of Jesus?” during my clearness session for membership in what turns out to be one of the most universalist meetings in America. (Our preparative meeting was about 150 miles away in the desert of Washington state.) Followed by a remark to me, “I fear that we’re losing our Christian connection.”

A few years later: “What do you think of the Bible?” as an elderly Wilburite Friend in Whittier, Iowa, drilled her eyes in my direction. I doubt my analogy of a sharpening-stone wheel satisfied her.

Or, a year or two later: “And just what spirit was thee speaking of?” Mary Hawkins, an elder at Middleton Meeting in Ohio, before adding. “there are many spirits – anger, envy …” Since then, I have since been careful to say, Holy Spirit or Spirit of Christ.

The most influential Friend, though, was Myrtle Bailey, a recorded minister at Winona, Ohio. I’ve been thinking a lot lately about her asking me what I considered the perfect meeting, and my response, which seemed to surprise both of us. Rather than looking at meeting as the experience of worship, I looked at it as a community – a woodpile, in fact. We need good pieces of seasoned wood, as well as kindling; but also green wood, to begin seasoning. Here at Dover, we seem to be falling behind on the green wood supply. Which leads us to the next question.

ALONG WITH THOSE ARTISTS WE KNOW

~ Jnana Hodson ~ Leave a comment

As I said at the time …

For too long, there’s been a huge gap between the blockbuster superstars and the rest of the practitioners, many of them far more innovative or penetrating.

Paris for American ex-pat writers? Again, I smile. By the time you and I came along, the destination was Seattle or San Francisco or Greenwich Village. Or some mountainous terrain, for those of us who couldn’t afford anything better. (Or thought so.) And then Minneapolis and, of all places, San Antonio. As it turns out, New Hampshire has far more than its share of authors, probably because of its proximity to both Manhattan and Boston, in addition to its tax structure – so again, I’m in a decent spot.

Especially compared to many of the others.

STEP BY STEP WELCOME

~ Jnana Hodson ~ 1 Comment

These days, the Greek Orthodox community has much more substance – and influence – in Dover than do the Friends, even though Quakers once formed a third of the population.

Our plumber, our wine retailer, our favorite meat store, the downtown seafood restaurant … the list goes on. Add a daughter’s boyfriend, one-half of his genetic pool. The local congregation’s participation in the ecumenical Thanksgiving service. Or its annual Labor Day weekend festival and traditional food and dancing.

Even so, it’s a largely invisible presence … and quite a legacy, as I’ve been discovering, step by step. Let me add, a very tolerant circle, too, as they’ve welcomed me to the line in dancing. Oh, my, have they!

A STRANGER AT THE DOOR

~ Jnana Hodson ~ 2 Comments

No Friends Meeting is ever the same – whether with the same body of people, in the same location, or while visiting around the world. This awareness casts a new light on the concept of expectant worship, in that you never know exactly what to predict, other than the possibility of being blessed by something wondrous and remarkable.

Traveling among different strands of Friends expands that concept.

In one pastoral Meeting, for instance, I encountered “silent singing” – no, they did sing from a hymnal, but the room was awfully quiet. Maybe all of their best voices were away in Philadelphia that weekend.

In one Evangelical Friends Meeting, as the pastor told me the following week, the Holy Spirit had been so powerful he had to put his sermon aside; I’m sure he wasn’t expecting that!

Or I was introduced to karaoke, of a contemporary Christian vein, in a midweek Meeting in central Pennsylvania. Who’d a’thunk.

So what do you say, greeting the stranger at our meetinghouse door, ready to sample Quaker worship for the first time? This is what not to expect?

“Maybe we’ll have a rare, totally silent worship,” seems to be as good as any. You never know.

IN THE FLITTING MOMENT

~ Jnana Hodson ~ Leave a comment

The delight of watching from our dining room as a hummingbird goes from one bloom to the next in a tithonia beside the window – observing the balanced hovering of what looks like giving each one an injection of a special nectar and then moving on, to repeat the dance figure. And then, it’s gone.

It’s the joy of embracing a rare moment before it’s gone. And then? It’s a lesson in appreciating life itself.

ANYBODY SEEN JULY?

~ Jnana Hodson ~ 9 Comments

I don’t know how it is where you live, but here in New England, we seem to have gone straight from the end of June into August. Not just my household, either – ask around, and everybody admits the same. We just didn’t have a July. Nobody knows where it went. Hiding out in one of the closets?

Some years we know it’s July by a prolonged steamy oppression that finally breaks out into a glorious August. Not this year. The only evidence of passing time I see is in the profusion of weeds – the garden was still orderly at the end of June. At least the produce is coming along on schedule. Oh, my, yes! Real tomatoes!

If it were just me, I’d blame being obsessed with drafting my newest (and likely final) novel. But then I ask around. Yup, everybody agrees.

Now, let’s make the most of August before it, too, has passed.

SNOBBERY, ALL THE SAME

~ Jnana Hodson ~ 3 Comments

To see the old meetinghouse at China, Maine, as it’s been turned into a Friends Camp arts studio (a messy one, at that) is a pointed symbol of the tensions many of us encounter as we attempt to live out our faith – and not just on the cultural front. (For the record, I am, after all, a published poet and novelist, a professional journalist, an avid contradancer, gallery-goer, foreign film buff, occasional violinist and harmony singer, and a lover of opera and classical music – all of which can raise eyebrows in various spiritual circles, and most of which would have been forbidden in traditional Quaker discipline – all this even before we turn to the struggles of the workplace, families, neighbors, or politics. Call me a snob, if you will.) The fact remains that the Society of Friends today is filled with many artists pursuing every imaginable medium. Dover Meeting is not alone in its range of talent.

A while back, I spoke of practice as something that’s ongoing and never finished, in contrast, say, to a performance or even a rehearsal. Practice as something done more for its own exploration and pursuit of a discipline than for any finished product. Practice as being part of a bigger encounter: the practice of prayer, practice of poetry, practicing musical scales, play practice, football practice, even medical practice. Something done with care, and if freedom follows in critical situations, as we often hear in interviews after a Patriots’ game, then all the better. Weeding and composting, I suppose, are part of the practice of gardening, apart from any harvest.

When I think about qualities that mark Quaker artists, I would tentatively suggest: placing the ongoing work ahead of themselves; “cool” rather than “hot”; a sense of experience and discovery rather than make-believe or escape; honesty rather than pretense; wonder rather than irony; humility rather than egotism or arrogance; candor rather than flamboyance; a preference for simplicity over complexity; directness rather than confusion; economy rather than extravagance; calmness rather than shrillness; curiosity and listening rather than dogma or bombast.

We might also turn the old Quaker views toward a critique of today’s cult of celebrities (almost universally entertainment/professional sports figures) and their exorbitant incomes – a situation that I believe accompanies a lessening of power within our communities. To that we could add the ways the arts are often used as a secular religion to sanctify public occasions. As for the Oscars?

But maybe that’s just another part of our unfolding spiritual awareness.

THE BIG TREES

~ Jnana Hodson ~ Leave a comment

I still miss the Douglas firs and the Western red cedars. In their maturity, they stand tall – not quite to redwood stature but still impressive, especially when they’re massed together or the clouds roll through the branches.

Close your eyes and let the aroma present another unforgettable impression.

Maybe off in the distance of night you’ll hear the singing.

~*~

Mountain 1

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OH, THE SONG OF THE WEARY

~ Jnana Hodson ~ Leave a comment

At our yearly meeting sessions each summer, one night features an all-ages coffee house organized by the teens. It’s a great release for the adults, who have been hunkered down in joint business agendas that often run three hours at a shot. Still, in a week filled with those plus organized discussions and workshops, committee reports and tables, social issues documentaries, casual conversations, and much more, the live amateur entertainment can be a bit much, no matter how excellent many of the acts are.

So it was for me one year when I decided to skip the event – perhaps even go to bed early for a switch.

As I wandered down a hallway, I came across a half-dozen or so Friends gathered around an upright piano and singing four-part music. Great! I jumped right in and was delighted when we turned to a Stephen Foster piece that’s also in the repertoire of my choir. We were just getting it down for ourselves when the announcement came: “You’re on in five!”

What?

My plans had just changed.

So there we were, all adults, lining up for the stage, marching up, finding our places in a semi-circle facing the audience, and being introduced by an enthusiastic high school senior. What was supposed to be “the Hard-Timers,” after the piece we were to sing, came out of her mouth as “the Old-Timers.” Instead of being offended, though, I was grateful it hadn’t come out “the Alzheimers.” Ahem.

If you’re not yet there, be warned: This getting older does have a lot of unanticipated turns. Don’t you forget it. And don’t forget to smile.