A London Underground sign for Bethnal Green subway station. Photo: By Maggie Jones on Flickr.
Where the heart is: Catriona Forrest on Meeting places
‘All we need is to make sure that someone pays the rent and buys the biscuits.’
Some Friends are feeling heartbreak and anger over losing – or facing the possibility of losing – their Meeting house. It’s a feeling I have compassion for, but have not experienced. Not because my Meeting house is secure, but because my beloved Local Meeting has not had one for as long as I’ve been a Quaker – not for almost ninety years, although our Meeting dates back much further than that, all the way back to 1655.
Today we are known as Bethnal Green Local Meeting, but we started out life as Ratcliff (or Ratcliffe) Meeting – a locality that is no longer officially recognised but still exists within our borough of Tower Hamlets in East London.
Our first Meeting place was in the home of James Brock of Mile End. Our first and only Meeting house was built in the 1700s, and used until it was declared unsafe in 1935, and demolished. We have effectively been homeless ever since.
Over the years, we’ve gathered in various locations: Toynbee Hall, DeafPlus, and, most recently, the offices of Quaker Social Action, where we still Meet today. Although our home has changed many times, the heart of our spiritual practice has not. In every home, in every place, since 1655, we have sat together in silence, in the light.
At times, our numbers have dwindled down to only one, during this century and in centuries past. But in every case, some Friend has held fast to their faith (as directed by Quaker faith & practice 18.14), and waited patiently for new Friends to show up. And they did show up. In recent years our Meeting has flourished, and continues to grow.
With no Meeting house to care for, all we truly need is to make sure that someone pays the rent and buys the biscuits. Almost all of our energy is spent on simply looking after our growing spiritual community, both outwardly and within our own spiritual practice.
I write this in hopes of bringing a little comfort to those who have been in pain from losing their Meeting house, or fearing its loss. I don’t want to diminish this loss. It is real. We lose a piece of our history as we say goodbye to the places we have called home, personally and as a collective. But, even in the face of this loss, there is much to be gained, and what truly matters has not been lost.
The same spiritual heart that beat in the 1655 home of James Brock, beat in the Meeting house of the 1700s, and beat in the rooms of all our hosts over the years since 1935. It is this thread, which lives in our hearts, and not the history in our walls, that is our true legacy. We find it in each other, everywhere that Quakers Meet.
We are not bound together by bricks and mortar, but in the shared silence and stillness that surrounds and supports us. It’s in us – it is us. So, for as long as any one of us keeps showing up, no matter where, Quakers will always have a home.
