Quaker for the Day

One thing I value as a "glo-burbanite" is learning from faith traditions other than my own.  I believe there are nuggets of wisdom found in most faith traditions if we are humble enough to listen and learn from one another.  This does not mean I adopt every belief or practice as my own... only that I am open to what truths may be expressed or experienced in ways I am not familiar. 

For example, growing up across the street from Amish neighbors provided a window into a culture that has many values worth borrowing, not the least of which are hard work, humility, simplicity, and forgiveness. I still keep in touch (and am challenged by) my childhood friend Elsie who is one of the most joyful and content women I know!

Borrowing from the Catholic tradition, I began seeing a spiritual director four years ago (who happens to be Mennonite, actually), and her mentoring friendship with me has been one of the most significant gifts in my spiritual journey as an adult.

And I began practicing yoga and meditation (which I love with my whole limber self!) a year ago, borrowed in part from Buddhist and Hindu practices.

Yesterday, I decided to visit the Quakers.  I have been wanting to visit a Friends Meeting House for quite some time now, as I find the Quakers very intriguing.  One of the "nuggets" I have learned from them is that they value the divine presence of God (often termed Light) in every human being (even in their "enemies") which has led them to value non-violence and peace-making as a way of life.

Another interesting tidbit about the Quakers is that they usually do not have spiritual leaders.  When they gather for Sunday morning worship, they sit in silence until someone feels led by the Spirit (or Light) to share something for the benefit of the whole group.  Then they return to silence and prayerful meditation until another might feel led to share. 

Since Jarred was in Boston for the weekend at a conference and the kids had spent the night with their grandparents, I decided that I'd go and visit the Maidencreek Meetinghouse, a small stone structure built in 1759, near Leesport, PA.  These are my reflections from my journal...


Struggling to find my turn off of 61, I tried to silent my pumping heart like a good Quaker girl. (Rushing into a silent room doesn't seem to be the Quaker way.) I found it, a blessed ten minutes before 10:00, and was, a little awkwardly, only the second person to enter the meetinghouse. "Oh no," I thought. "What if it's just me and that man?" Then I heard another car pulling along the stone drive. Phew...

One by one, the faithful strolled in.  Sometimes I glanced their way and received a smile or "good morning." There were twelve of us altogether (the same number Jesus thought would be good to change the world.)  ;-)

This one was a silent meeting. No words were needed today. Personally, I thought the setting was a beautiful sermon in its own rite.  The old stone building with its wide, wooden-beamed floor and long straight wooden benches--covered by faded orange cushions--sang with total tranquility and sacred tradition.  The open windows and doors were just that... open.  They welcomed not only the nameless strangers such as I, but the breezes and the bees and the flies.  Had a skunk walked in the door, I think he would have been offered a seat.

Instead of a choir, we had the birds.  And let me tell you, their voices echoed beautifully over the lake and the trees, filtering into our sanctuary. 

As the hour passed, I shifted my posture now and then, as well as my thoughts.  They drifted to loved ones, my friend who just moved away and to my brothers.  They drifted toward the members in the room... What are their stories?  How long have they been "Quaker"?  What do they think of me?  They drifted to myself... I need to stretch.  Can I clear my throat silently?  I'm getting sleepy.  

I thought about other moments where I've sat in silence with others--at the beginning of Nar-Anon meetings, before our sung prayers at the Pilgrimage of Peace retreats in West Virginia, at youth group events when we'd spread out for silent prayer or devotions, during the evening Scripture meditation at the Kairos retreat back in January.

I've decided I like sitting in silence.  (Almost as much as I love gabbing with friends.)  Both are good. Both nourish the soul.  Both communicate truth and love if we have ears to hear.  And so I think I will practice Quakerism more often. 

How about you?  Have you ever experienced a faith tradition outside of your own?  What did you learn from it?