In good time: Peter D Leeming’s Thought for the Week
‘I know that the ticking does still continue and that it will be heard again eventually.’
I sit in Meeting and look across at the friendly face of our old clock, gazing down on us as it has done for many years. As I settle into worship, I try to catch the sound of its ticking, something which I always find helpful in quietening my mind. From time to time it is drowned out by the noise of the traffic outside, louder now due to the open windows, a precaution against Covid. But I know that the ticking does still continue and that it will be heard again eventually.
When I hear it again it almost seems to me that one of us, either the clock or myself, has gained in confidence, for there seems to be a more determined, persistent quality about its sound. I seem able to recognise it sooner each time the outside noise ebbs away. The ticking continues through our worship and beyond, whether we hear it or not; it is there waiting for us to engage with its presence.
At times, only vaguely aware of its steady rhythm, I feel that in a mysterious way it paces and calms my very heartbeat, stills the tides which constantly flow through my mind. The clock regulates without fail, whatever takes place within these walls. All it requires from us is the occasional change of battery.
But we have gathered today to experience another Presence, one constrained neither by time nor place, though it too has need of human hand to do its work. We meet trusting that if we wait in patient stillness, we will experience once more the loving solidarity and divine presence. This is the ultimate message of Jesus: ‘That they may be one’ (John 17:11), which is a prayer for the whole of humanity.
A sense of oneness and loving unity is found at the heart of all true worship. In the case of Friends, it is discovered in the depths of the stillness, when we are surrounded by and in the active presence of something indefinable – unimaginably other – but tangible and real because we feel ourself to be in relationship to it. This has been our witness for almost four hundred years. It has many names: Friends often call it ‘The Light’. Light implies relationship, requiring us to respond, even if only by turning away. On another evening long ago, disciples who met in fear behind locked doors felt abandoned and alone, forgetting Jesus’ promise that he would not leave them bereft and that help would come. Yet by gathering together, supporting and comforting one another, they created the very condition for that experience to take place. With joy they suddenly realised that the spirit of Jesus was still present and active among them, as tangible and real as his wounds.
Sitting in worship today I listen again for the quiet, steady ticking of our old clock. Just like my heartbeat, I think: almost as if we were one. The desire rises within me to use the sound as a mantra, to affirm and welcome in that other, living Presence: Love-tick-one-tock-another. Slowly, imperceptibly, this fleeting hour resolves into the Eternal Now.
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