‘At Glastonbury, it is clear that people feel able to be who they want to be.’
The Engaging Young Adult Quakers project is exploring how to help young adults to thrive. This year a group of Friends visited the Glastonbury music festival. Joseph Fuller was there to listen
After a whole week at Glastonbury Festival it was very difficult to return to everyday life. I was hit by an enormous, irresistible wave of music, beauty and humanity, and my faith is stronger because of it all. I was left with the sense of a child who has just returned from a school trip, not wanting to answer any questions about how it had been, as it had all been far too precious and mysterious to give any of it away.
Four of us were invited to hold the first official Quaker presence at the festival with a stand in the Green Futures Field. It was my first time at the festival and I had only heard brilliant things about it, so I arrived with a deep sense of excitement and responsibility to represent Quakers at such an important event. Glastonbury is unique in that it does not focus on any one musical genre but rather creates a whole series of cultural worlds within the festival, creating the widest range of people wanting a ticket, each perhaps seeking out their one particular section as a priority but who will inevitably encounter something from outside their known cultural map. It is this joyous collision of all these different worlds of music and art and the crossing paths of all the various groups of people that is so intoxicating. It was this atmosphere of exploration and discovery that made for such great conditions for conversation and outreach when we met with people.
Amid the chance to see some of the best musicians and artists in the world, the festival arguably has almost perfect conditions for a spiritual experience. A large number of people (in this case some 200,000) have: all made the decision and effort to be assembled in one place together; are all implicitly agreeing that what they are doing there is important and worthwhile; are all invested in the collective history and tradition of what they are doing; and all arriving carrying the hope of something out-of-the-ordinary – or wonderful, or almost miraculous – happening, with the quality of their experience totally and electrically dependent on everyone present. So many people will have fallen in love in so many different ways this year at Glastonbury.
In our Quaker tent we strove to create the right balance in offering a taste of Quakerism that was completely honest, unrushed and undiluted, in the context of a weekend where there was always far too much to see and do. We focussed on providing a calm, peaceful space, in the middle of all the noise and clamour, and to offer an experience of stillness before anything else, with conversation only coming later if it felt necessary. The very least that we offered was a safe, undemanding space and a large number of people did simply rest in the tent with us, in stillness, a welcoming invitation that they will associate with Quakerism.
We had a number of Friends visit us, many of whom joined us for one or more of the three Meetings for Worship that we held each day (thanks to the direction of the wind I was able to hear a distant version of Johnny Marr’s set during our worship on the Saturday evening). We also had a number of people come to see us who knew of Quakers in some way: some had relatives who had told them a bit about their faith, others had colleagues who are Friends. The majority of our visitors knew very little to nothing about Quakerism, so we were their very first encounter. For me, these opportunities for meeting people are the most exciting moments, when nothing is known from either side, but there is curiosity, and it can allow for the very best conversations.
One group of friends were in the tent with us and were gradually opening up with their perspectives on what was important to them and what guided them in their lives; only one of them considered God important, and this was cautious at best. They then asked us what we thought of God and were taken aback when we answered in turn to explain that we had among us separate, individual and contradictory relationships with God, and we were all Quakers. This allowed the conversation to go up a level, with one of the friends opening up in a much deeper way about his perceived struggle with needing proof for everything and how he felt that might be holding him back. His friends were listening to him speak. They stayed a while longer before we all shook hands and they all left in time to see their favourite band performing on a stage on the other side of the festival.
I believe that our spiritual experiences are conditional on a combination of vulnerability and trust. When we worship together, for example, others in the room are not politely being quiet so that an individual might have a religious experience, we are all vitally in it together. We must make ourselves vulnerable together in that stillness, vulnerable enough to trust each other. A number of times I saw people during our conversations reach that tipping point of vulnerability, where they found themselves willing to ask an extra question or share an extra layer of their own spiritual story, and when this was listened to with care they trusted to continue further. I am convinced that the particular quality of the festival allowed people to reach that point with far greater ease than in everyday life.
At Glastonbury, it is clear that people feel able to be who they want to be: the festival creates a profound and collective sense of encouragement to express yourself freely, you are invited to trust that everyone present is somehow utterly seeking out new experiences and there is something in the air giving everyone permission to be themselves more than usual. But this is not a trite thing that is happening. It might be easy to disregard it all as frivolous and indulgent and nothing more than meaningless hedonism, but the very best of it all, that overwhelming sense of freedom and the sight of people being free with themselves is profoundly moving. The disarming beauty of thousands of people dressing exactly how they want to, for a weekend, with no threat of judgement, when in the rest of their lives they are most likely required to put on clothes that speak nothing of who they are, is enough to fill your heart with love. And perhaps the clearest sight of someone perfectly poised with trust and vulnerability, outside of a deep, centred Meeting for Worship, is when they are dancing to music that they love. At its best it is clear that you are seeing God in that person. It is no wonder we had so many beautiful encounters.
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