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Primitive Christianity Revived, Again

The Odd Man at the Dinner Party

When I first began attending Quaker meeting 16 years ago, I quickly noticed a notable absence. Sunday after Sunday would pass (or First Day after First Day, as the Quakers insisted on calling it) without a mention of Jesus. I mean, Quakers were Christians, weren't they? It was as if he had dropped down a rabbit hole somewhere in the Quaker past to be replaced by - well, nothing. There was no central figure, no icon, no rallying point. I brought the subject up with the folks that I figured were the "weighty Friends" and received a set of thoroughly unsatisfactory answers, all equally vague and non-committal: "teacher," "model," "significant religious figure," or (my favorite) "metaphor." No matter how hard I tried I couldn't flush out anyone who would give the stock answer: "Divine Son of God who was born to a virgin and died on the cross to atone for my sins and then was resurrected from the dead to sit on the right hand of God until such time as he returns to judge the quick and the dead." I mean, that's the right answer, isn't it? The one that, at the very least, would get you a gold star from the sweet Sunday School teacher - or, more to the point, save you from a miserable fiery eternity if you would just sign on to this version of the Christ story. Eternal damnation, fire and brimstone, or its alternative, wafting around forever on a cloud sporting a pair of wings and plucking a harp didn't appear to be part of the Quaker way.

Frankly, this was a big relief, but I remained disconcerted by the generally Quakerly discomfort with Jesus to whom I took to referring as "the odd man at the Quaker dinner party." He was there if you looked for him, sitting at the far end of the table, sort of awkwardly squeezed in. Most of the other guests were happy to make small talk with him, but no one really wanted to engage with him in any serious way, particularly since some of the guests were determined to ignore him altogether. Poor Jesus. "I'll talk to you," I would squeak inwardly. "I still care."

Of course, I came to Quakerism fairly unmolested spiritually. Unlike many people who cross the Meetinghouse threshold, I was not a member of the walking wounded who had been chewed up and spat out by their previous faith communities (or at least by those brethren in charge of their previous faith communities). Born with a fairly big "God gene," I had thus far enjoyed a fairly riveting walk through a number of religious venues - transcendentalism as expressed in "Little Women," born-again-ism (more than once), transcendental meditation, Mormonism, a brief dabble in Buddhism-lite. All of this my resolutely non-religious family bore with fairly good grace even though I think they found me a little odd and occasionally a real pain in the butt. ("No, I won't give Grandpa his Scotch at 6 because it goes against my religious principles.") I enjoyed all of these sortees and came away pretty positive about all of it even if I couldn't permanently swallow the whole tamale.

By the time I came to Quakerism, I had been off the path for about a decade, getting married, having children, and, shall we say, worshiping at the shrine of Bacchus. But children have a bad habit of getting one thinking about stuff other than the next good time. For reentry into the religious life, I took them to the local Methodist church. Everything a family could want - good people, nice minister who didn't look as if he was going to demand anything scary, terrific youth program. Except I just couldn't do it. I couldn't serve up the usual Christian boilerplate to my children and look them in the eye and say, "It's all true." So I asked my Quaker friend Catherine to take me to Meeting with her. I loved the idea of Quakers. Peaceful, serene, emanating, no doubt, a faintly ethereal glow powered by all of that brotherly love. Also, unusual and vaguely exotic, which I considered a plus. And if I wanted a spiritual path devoid of Christian boilerplate this was definitely it. So why did I feel so bereft at the absence of Jesus?Head Upon A Stone blogspot

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Comment by William F Rushby on 11th mo. 26, 2011 at 5:50pm: When I read your comments about the "walking wounded" who come to Friends, I saw for the first time that this imagery also applies to some people's experiences in Friends meetings. It's not just "them" (fundamentalists, Catholics, etc.) who commit these spiritual crimes. Liberal, conservative and evangelical Friends are also capable of inflicting grievous wounds. And, metaphorically, Friends are not above "shooting their wounded" either.

We have not an inch of room for smugness!

Comment by Amy Ward Brimmer on 11th mo. 26, 2011 at 6:20pm: Hey, sister! Thanks for essentially describing my own spiritual meanderings, which ended me up at my first Friends Meeting -- because of my children. :-) Not wounded by religion, I also have a rather large "God gene" (love that), and if anything, I probably inflicted more damage during my teen born-again days than was ever inflicted on me, by any religion. Sure, I don't personally buy most of the standard story about who Jesus is/was, but I agree that it is downright weird that names of political leaders pop up in messages during meeting for worhsip more often than Jesus does. Quakers seem especially fond of quoting, discussing, and occasionally emulating, favorite Quakers of the past. But whoa -- the uncomfortable silence that descends when someone mentions Jesus in a conversation! It is often just not QC (Quakerly Correct).

Comment by Patricia Barber on 11th mo. 26, 2011 at 6:22pm: Indeed! Recently I led a couple of sessions on Quaker history for my meeting's Quakerism 101 course. The session about the Great Separation was subtitled, "When Quakers Behave Badly." The village where my meeting is situated (Lincoln, VA) once had two meetings located about 50 yards apart - the Hicksite one and the Orthodox one. It took an act of God in the early 1940s (the Hicksite meeting house was severely damaged in a storm) for the meetings to unite. I have sometimes tried to imagine what it must have been like in 1827 or 1828 when the schism occurred in little Lincoln. The term "brotherly love" does not spring to mind. Earlier this month at Pendle Hill I met a same gender couple from Seattle who for the past 14 years have participated in a women's gathering that brings together women from all branches of Quakerism. Over that time they have formed some deeply close relationships with women from Evangelical Friends churches which just goes to show that there is hope that one day we Quakers will be able to put aside our intra-group prejudices and find unity within diversity.

Comment by Ray McIntyre on 11th mo. 26, 2011 at 6:37pm: The early Christians spoke of Jesus often but more important, they lived in such a way that they did not need to speak. Their compassion, their acceptance spoke for them much more loudly than mere words. As a theologian who attends a Quaker meeting (from time to time) I sometimes wonder if Friends haven't become a little wishy-washy (theological term!)

Comment by Patricia Barber on 11th mo. 26, 2011 at 6:55pm: Ray - the same thought has crossed my mind on numerous occasions, although to be fair, liberal Quakers have generally eschewed the talk for the walk. "Let your life speak" (or as George Fox more accurately said, "Let you life preach." - modern liberal Friends don't like the term "preach.") However, the longer I have stayed in Quakerism, the more "there" I have found there.

Comment by Bill Samuel on 11th mo. 27, 2011 at 8:33am: I know dozens of people who have responded to Jesus being pushed to the side in much of Quakerism by leaving Quaker meetings. Some have gone to other churches. Some have started small Christian Quaker worship groups. Some have found no place they are comfortable to worship with others. I myself now find myself in a church where the message of Jesus Christ is taking seriously and we are seeking together to be more faithful disciples. And it is such a relief.

Comment by ben schultz on 11th mo. 27, 2011 at 11:16am: Don't wanna look like a christian.Looks very bad right now---

Comment by Bruce R. Arnold on 11th mo. 27, 2011 at 1:33pm: Lovely post, Patricia. I like hearing how other people found Friends. Like you, I am not a traumatized former-something. I still believe in God and I do call myself a Christian, although I've put a lot of thought into what that means, beyond all the Sunday School pablum I was fed. And which you are also uncomfortable with.

You might enjoy reading my recent blog post on this subject. It's linked elsewhere in the blog section, under the title "Why I Call Myself a Christian." I don't know if it will resonate with you or not, but might at least provide some thoughtful moments.

Comment by Aaron J Levitt on 11th mo. 27, 2011 at 2:02pm: As a rather new (non-Christ-centered) attender, it strikes me that a silent worship is best realized against a background of voluble engagement and sharing between members at other times. Silent discomfort seems like a poor foundation for true fellowship! If Christ-centered friends feel silenced or unwelcome, that is a serious problem, just as if women, African-Americans, etc., have similar experiences, and it requires a serious response. Otherwise, Christ-centered friends will suffer by exclusion, but the rest of the meeting will suffer even more by failing to profit from their experience of the Light.

Comment by Patricia Barber on 11th mo. 27, 2011 at 2:48pm: Aaron - I absolutely agree. Given the nature of the Quaker meeting structure, with its emphasis on self-governance, it is very easy for a meeting to become insular and for the meeting to set up subconscious theological boundaries. It behooves members and attenders to engage with the wider Quaker community and bring back the "good news from out there." I didn't budge from my Quaker meeting for probably 12 or 13 years and when I did I jumped in with both feet (FGC Gathering). Being confronted with Quakerism writ large, I was more than a little disconcerted. I knew the tent was large, but I really had no idea...Needless to say, once I "got over" my personal view of Quakerism and opened myself up to what the Spirit had to teach me, I was hugely enriched by having my horizons opened. I am now pressing out of liberal unprogrammed Friends to try to engage with Evangelical, Conservative and FUM Friends. We have so much we can share with each other.

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