'What happens if everyone chooses to come to the wellsprings and drink, but nobody replenishes it?' Photo: by Afif Kusuma on Unsplash
Renewable resources? Jamie Wrench has a niggle
‘What if even Love is a finite resource?’
It started aeons ago, before lockdown. Two people ministered in Meeting and I felt this niggle, somewhere at the back of my neck. It landed up at the base of my spine. This journey took about three weeks, and it still resurfaces periodically, disturbingly.
What was so disturbing about these ministries? They were succinct and clear. The one followed the other logically, after a reasonable time for contemplation, building in a positive and uplifting way. What was there to niggle over?
The first ministry was a celebration of our diversity: some of us were theists, said the speaker, some were universalists; we had ‘Quanglicans’, Buddhist, Humanist, even Jewish and Catholic Quakers. Some of us were members, some attenders, some neither. All of us were Quakers. She rejoiced in this wide and inclusive family.
The second was from a Friend who was moved to read Angela Nunn’s poem ‘Wellsprings’ (the Friend, 3 March 2017). ‘Come to the wellsprings. Bring only the real, authentic you. No qualifications needed. No imperfections excluded…’. It was a wonderful poem, beautifully read, deepening the message of the first ministry. I found myself remembering Dorothy Nimmo’s story in Quaker faith & practice (21.19) in which, finding herself ‘somewhat diminished, faced with demands I found difficult to fulfil’, she went to Meeting:
‘“Here I am” I said. “That’s all right.” “Just for a bit of a sit-down.” “Whatever you need.” “You mustn’t expect anything from me” I said, “I can only bring a need.” “Whatever you have”.’
And that’s when the niggle started. I’m not proud of it; I don’t think it reflects very well on me to have it. But a niggle shared is a niggle halved, perhaps. So here goes…
What happens, says the niggle, if everyone takes the no-strings-attached option? What happens if everyone chooses to come to the wellsprings and drink, but nobody replenishes it? What if everyone ‘only brings a need’? What if we are all angry, depressed, tired or spiritually cold, asking for the prayerful support of others joined with us in worship? What if we all choose to be passengers, enjoying the company and the view? What if there is no one to drive the bus, fill it with fuel, keep the tyres inflated and the oil checked?
One of my most respected colleagues was a deputy treasurer – a calm, supportive, diplomatic administrator, just the sort of person you would want looking after money. My esteem for him rose even more when I learned that his wife had contracted a debilitating disease that he had taken in his stride, devoting more time to her as her needs increased. He was amazing. But a decade later I met him at a funeral, and he said he’d had to leave his wife. ‘I’m all loved out’ he said, simply. I felt a chill in my heart. What if, I thought… what if even Love is a finite resource?
If I were a proper Quaker, I’d tap into that great floodwater of the Spirit, and trust that the way would become clear. Perhaps the way revealed is to share this.
