How Quaker Meetings work
Bob Johnson writes about the nature of Quaker Meetings
Since I was very young, I’ve always wanted to know how things worked. What does this cog do, or that lever? So, it has long puzzled me as to what makes Quaker Meetings tick. It’s not been easy, finding a route through. What happens when a group of human beings sit together, largely in silence – what is happening, if anything? You can’t stop people chattering – they love it, especially if they know each other well – but here they are, sitting, meekly, sometimes even for as long as an hour, without emitting a single word. What gives?
Well, the short answer is, I don’t know – worse, my research into the philosophy of knowledge convinces me that I’ll never know. I’m comforted when the same research tells me that nobody else will either, but I gain even more from a conviction that what happens there is real; that is to say, Quaker Meetings do achieve what they’re meant to. They succeed where all expectations predict they shouldn’t. Not every time, of course, but often enough to be awesome.
Take the term ‘worship’. There is discussion – sometimes elaborate, even tortuous – of what is actually meant by ‘Meetings for Worship’ – but then there always will be. I recall from my Quaker boarding school several speakers agonizing over how this term relates to ‘worth-ship’. This was not clear, helpful or useful. You are not going to understand what happens in Quaker Meetings by wrestling with the ‘hidden’ meanings behind worship. In fact, I tend to advise against it, and the reason I do is simple enough: words such as worship and its ilk so often get in the way.
This leads me to my ‘solution’ or partial solution. I have recently been writing a book on where mental healthcare has gone so wrong and why. In it I have come to see how redolent is the axiom: ‘It takes a village to bring up a child.’ Human beings are complicated. They are the most complex items you’ll find anywhere in the cosmos – and they each have a unique ‘take’ on reality, not all of which are compatible. So, if a child grows up knowing only the people their parents knew then he or she will tend to follow their bias and mistakes, and we all make mistakes. The person who never made a mistake never made anything, whereas in a village (and in Meeting) you meet all kinds.
If your social connections are limited to a small select group you, too, will be limited. On the other hand, if your group is too wide you could waste much time and energy trying to reconcile their differences. This is a tough call. So, how about not discussing your personal predilections. How about meeting with a group and talking only about things you cannot fully define – give them an airy label such as ‘the things which are eternal’, and be careful not to say too precisely what that means. Would that work? Could silence somehow bypass verbal mayhem? Words work both ways. They can help and they can hinder. The Quaker genius digs deeper. Don’t rely on words only. Let your lives speak. What a glorious insight.
What about Quaker Meetings? Could it be that our collective body language is somehow speaking for us, without words? Sometimes it is true, words do illuminate everything. Recently, the word ‘serenity’ was spoken in ministry, which prompted me to say that this is something you can neither buy, nor earn, but you can give it away. Where else would you ‘meet’ such deep experiences? Roll on Quaker ‘Meetings’. Where would I be without one?
