Being faithful
Steve Whiting writes about witness, faith, choice and being challenged
I remember many years ago, when I first came to Quakers, Mary, a member of the Meeting, asked if I wanted to come on a CND protest. I said probably not. She asked why. I said that, although I, of course, wanted to get rid of nuclear weapons – actually all weapons – I simply couldn’t see the campaign succeed-ing, it wasn’t the way of the world. She said nothing. She didn’t judge me, just gave me a quizzical look.
I’ve never forgotten that response: the silence, her wise deep-etched face and those spirited, twinkly eyes. That look. It bothered me. It led to weeks of internal wrestling, a crucial time for me when I felt I had to make a choice, come to a clearness on what my life was about. I felt a powerful presence challenging me, supporting, and… well, nudging me. Then my ‘AHA!’ moment of realisation: it’s not about success or failure. We don’t control the outcomes, and we can’t pick winners. It’s about making a choice, bearing witness, trying to act and live faithfully: do I stand up publicly and be counted for the truth in me, or remain passive and, therefore, complicit in something I oppose?
I knew I couldn’t be passive or complicit. I had to risk stepping out from the comfort of the mainstream. I’ve come to realise that being faithful to the promptings of love and truth in our hearts inevitably brings us into conflict with the world as it is. Our choice lies in whether and how we enter into that conflict.
I did go on that protest and then plunged headlong into years of intense activism. My entry point was nuclear weapons, though I soon came to see that the real issue is the values, beliefs and behaviours that brought them into being. Such weapons remain for me the dead-end to the logic of violence; the supreme expression of human violence and disconnection from our world. It’s a spiritual crisis.
Much of my work now is about practising better ways of doing conflict – transforming our values and behaviours into nonviolent power and reconnection. For me, it’s a direct expression of religious experience, personal and collective. Quaker worship requires me to open myself up and connect, to permit that endless loving Spirit to breach my internal defences and allow me to be led by its promptings and leadings. Nice words, but in reality difficult and sometimes scary – it can invite you to places you don’t want to go. I’ve found myself facing challenges I’d rather not face. But courage and support comes from knowing that this experience is shared by others, all drawing from something bigger.
And the outcomes and results of these years of effort? There is still relentless violence and cruelty in the world, so you could say I’m a complete failure. Why don’t I admit defeat and give up? Well, that Light that pushes us, reveals to us and carries us – it won’t go away. Mary had no idea what her look did for me. She never knew the outcomes of her witness. That’s why.
Steve works with Quaker Peace & Social Witness’ Turning the Tide and Peaceworker programmes.
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