Friends Journal

In my travels among Quakers, especially in North American unprogrammed meetings, I have often sensed and heard a deep yearning for more powerful and truly Spirit-filled vocal ministry. And who wouldn’t want to be part of a community where gifts are recognized, uplifted, and nourished? Friends who share a hunger for thriving Quaker communities would be well served to read the features in this issue and to find time to discuss them with others who care.

Let spools of featherlight wisdom swaddle me still. Let there be brave instruments— quiet songs, chirping always flitting. In the knowing, I’ll thread your awareness through the pinhole eye of how I connect to you. I’ll stitch echoes together like spiders bring you gifts in the nest of a morning it will all be new: this naming, this wading, this fury.

Matches mutter to candles in a closet, Somebody needs to install a light in here! Roses reach over the fence, wondering what smells so beautiful. Finch flaps its feathers ragged, seeking freedom seeking sky. A wizened monk reads yet one more spiritual text, with God’s eyes.

When considering how to support ministries for and by children and youth, Quakers often look for ways to teach young Friends and integrate them into the existing structure of the meeting. Friends who work with youngsters suggest that encouraging them to follow their own leadings to initiate or participate in ministries involves acknowledging people are innately wise regardless of age.

Due to the state of our country and environment, I’ve been having trouble maintaining an outlook that includes gratitude and a zest for living. Feeling such sadness, grief, and anger has made it difficult to keep my head straight and feel a connection with the Divine. A day at the beach at Assateague with a good friend helped me find peace, balance, and yes, gratitude. Sitting on the sand, I asked the Universe to give me comfort and asked it “why” I should feel happiness and gratitude.

Vocal ministry is Quakerism’s signature form of ministry. For some two hundred years, we supported this ministry with a culture of eldership that revolved around recording the ministers. Elders kept a lookout for Friends who were emerging into their ministry; after a time of seasoning and discernment, the meeting would record their gift.

The first time I encountered the word “elder” in its Quaker context was at a social hour after worship when I overheard someone in a nearby bouquet of Friends say with dismay that they had been “eldered.” What leapt to my mind was the scene in Ghostbusters in which Bill Murray moans, “He slimed me!” after an encounter with a particularly odious green wraith. I didn’t know the definition of the word, but I gathered its connotation pretty clearly.

Religious education has always been public ministry. After Pentecost, Jesus’s disciples became apostles; those who had been his students became teachers and the early church’s foremost religious educators. Seventeenth-century Friends traveled in the ministry, sharing an emergent faith and developing practices.

Earlier this year, in a meeting with my small spiritual accountability group, I found myself dipping into an unexpectedly tender topic. Usually these meetings are simple: I share what I’ve been up to in my witness in the world—mostly writing and speaking—and they offer thoughtful appreciation and some insightful feedback. I leave feeling enormously supported.

Expectant waiting worship relies on two critical motions to truly work: First, Friends open their hearts to the Living Spirit, recognizing our deep shared dependence on God. As more and more of those present do this, there is a sense of being knit together with each other and with the Love at the heart of all things. If this happens, we refer to our worship as gathered or covered.