‘If we seek first the love of God, we will be safe enough.’ Photo: by Nelly Antoniadou on Unsplash
Safe keeping: Abigail Maxwell on radical vulnerability
‘Here, we meet God in ourselves and others, which may change us.’
The Quaker Meeting is not a safe space. It is a fearful thing to fall into the hands of the living God. Here, we meet God in ourselves and others, which may change us. The door is open, and Jesus’ brothers and sisters may come in: hungry, sick, convicted.
In a Meeting with far more chairs than worshippers, a man no one knew made a woman uncomfortable by sitting next to her, and Friends warned neighbouring Meetings. Disputes of members are harder: I did not think a nontheist should be part of a religious society, until a Friend said, ‘The question is not why we join, but why we stay’. My tensions changed but remained painful.
The world outside impinges on us, uniting or dividing. I spend some time each Meeting delighting in the beauty of Friends and creation, but first I need to let go of my demands that the world, and Friends, be other than they are.
If Friends feel the Meeting should be safe for them, as they understand safety, a web of unspoken assumptions may then make the Meeting unwelcoming to strangers – and indeed the Friends themselves. Someone starts to knit, and Friend X feels unsafe because rules are broken. But X has a testimony to peace, so says nothing. The other knits every week. Eventually, X confronts the elders: why has nothing been done? The Meeting convulses as each Friend’s desire for safety, and to be peaceful and mature, conflicts. Friends leave. Sometimes, one must be excluded.
At Yearly Meeting we had a rule: do not knit. Friends with particular needs who find it easier to concentrate when using their hands had to inform the elders first.
I volunteer to be the technical host for Woodbrooke Zoom worship. I am not an elder in the usual manner, but I desire to support the ‘quiet gathering of the meeting for worship in order, reverence and harmony’ (Quaker faith & practice 12.12). This requires awareness and loving care. It makes me feel compunction about so often crying in Meeting in the past. I was working through inner conflict, and am grateful for the space worship gave me, but was aware at the time that other Friends’ tension could show by a slight tightening of their hands in their lap. And crying Friends’ vulnerability may open others’ hearts.
When I think of past Friends like Clare Whitehead, I delight in her sweetness. She showed me what a Quaker could be, and spent her life generously. She once said that the Meeting was a haven of peace, but was never enough. My defences are illusory: they let me suppress awareness of my terrifying uncertainty, unless reality supervenes. I crave safety but cannot gain it through worry. If we seek first the healing and love of God, we will be safe enough. Letting go of our defences we might come to community. The Meeting is as safe as anywhere else in the world.
