Come hear: Anne Watson’s Thought for the Week

‘To be prepared to minister is a continuous, sacred state.’

I am an elder in a large Meeting at the heart of a diverse university city, with many visitors and newcomers. Discerning the nature, and nurture, of spoken ministry, can be a challenge. 

Many of the disciplines described in Quaker faith & practice are about when not, and how not, to speak. There are fewer about when or how to speak. So the personal disciplines I have adopted have been mainly about not speaking – particularly not if I am also sitting as elder, lest I should be mistaken for a self-promoting leader. I have learned, for example, that a trembling in my throat was more often my own desire than a leading of the Spirit. I have learned that, if I feel something needs to be said, waiting for someone else to say it tests that need effectively, and leaves a space for someone else to speak. My husband, an attender of twenty-five years, goes slowly through a personal catechism: ‘Does this need to be said, here, now, and by me?’ Only if there are four yesses will he speak. He has never had four yesses. For me, it is important that I experience some trembling after speaking, while my body, which seems to have been separated from the driver of my voice, reconnects with the rest of me. This is how I am affirmed. 

‘The essential difference is in the listening.’

I have also learned that some people, who can enunciate well-honed thoughts, clearly understand a sacred need in worship that they can fulfil. I learned from John Punshon (whose enunciated ministry was always well-honed) that to be prepared to minister is a continuous, sacred state, and does not need to end in speech. He was always prepared but spoke very rarely. Preparation for him meant taking deep breaths when entering and centring, and living a life steeped in reading, spiritual practice, and prayer.

In his essay ‘An hour to fill’, John describes how, at his first Quaker Meeting, spoken ministry was unhoned and very personal – everyday stories of the insights in life events. He came again. Thomas Merton, also attending worship for the first time, heard everyday stories but was not moved to return. What is the difference between their experiences? I would say that, whatever the words, the essential difference is in the listening. It matters whether I listen to others for the Spirit, or in the Spirit. 

As a listener, I can dismiss differences in language (God or not-God; Christ or not-Christ) or irrelevance to me (e.g. about someone else’s struggles at work), or differences in supernatural beliefs. My job is not to close my ears, but to listen for the undertow of love, justice, care, forgiveness, generosity, hope, learning and healing. These are demonstrated in what I am told about Jesus. For me, this is listening in the Spirit, with tenderness and creativity. There is no need for me to question whether it is Spirit-led or not, nor to enter into argumentative banter to solve the riddles of life. Just as ‘the letter killeth…’ my own over-attention to the letter also killeth. My task is to seek and answer that of God in everyone – and so often in worship, the ‘answering’ is found in the way I listen.

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Comments

I feel somewhat intimidated by Anne Watson’s description of her preparation for ministry. As a relative newcomer to Quakerism, joining a newly established meeting, it may be that my experience of ministry is not typical – I’ve no idea. My impression is of a simple everyday spirituality which merely seeks to express rather than impress. I remember reading that one should not come to meeting with a prepared ‘script’. This seemed to imply that the spirit only moves one between 10.30 and 11.30 on a Sunday morning, whereas my experience has long been that it can speak at any time of day, particularly in the shower!

By david@wright47.me.uk on 2025 03 06

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