An Interpretation of Friends Worship Part 1

An Interpretation of Friends Wors.h.i.+p.

by N. Jean Toomer.

INTRODUCTION

I was not more than ten years old when I first heard mention of the Quakers. The grown-ups of my family were talking among themselves, speaking of an uncle of mine who lived in Philadelphia and operated a pharmacy near the university. I had never seen this uncle and was curious about him, so my ears were open. Presently a reference to the Quakers caught my attention. I wanted to know who the Quakers were. What was told me then I have remembered ever since. The Quakers, I was told, are people who wait for the spirit to move them.

A picture formed in my mind. Many a time I had seen my grandmother sitting quietly, an aura of peace around her as she sewed or crocheted or did her beautiful embroidery work. So I pictured older people, most of them with white hair like my grandparents, all with kindly faces, gathered in silent a.s.sembly, heads bent slightly forward, waiting to be moved. It never occurred to me that young people, boys and girls of my age and even younger, might be present and partic.i.p.ating.

As the word "spirit" meant nothing definite to me, I could have no idea of just what would move the Quakers, but I had a sense that it would be something within them, perhaps like the stirrings that sometimes moved me, and I may have had a vague notion that this something within them was somehow related to what people called G.o.d. I never thought to ask what the Quakers might do after they were moved.

Had I been invited in those days to attend a Friends meeting for wors.h.i.+p I would have gladly gone. I would have gone because my picturings had given me good feelings about the Quakers. I would have gone because, young though I was, I liked to be silent now and again. Sometimes my best friend and I would sit quietly together, happy that we were together but not wanting to talk. Sometimes I would go off by myself on walks to look at the wonders of nature, to think my own thoughts, to dream, to feel something stirring in me for which I had no name. Or I might withdraw for a time from the activities of the boys and girls and sit on the porch of our house, my outward eyes watching them at play, my inward eyes turned to an inner life that was as real to me, and sometimes more wonderful than my life with the group.

Certain experiences I had when alone, certain experiences I had with my young friends, att.i.tudes and feelings that would suddenly arise in me at any time or place--these made up the mainstream of my religious life.

Such religion as I had was life-centered, not book-centered, not church-centered. It arose from the well of life within me, and within my friends and parents. It arose from the well of life within nature and the human world. It consisted in my response to flowers, trees, birds, snow, the smell of the earth after a spring rain, sunsets and the starry sky. It consisted in my devotion to pet rabbits and dogs, and to some interest or project that caught my imagination.

I had been taught several formal prayers. One of these I said every night, regularly, before getting into bed. But I am thinking of the unformed prayers that welled up in me whenever I had need of them. I had been read some stories from the Bible and some of the psalms, and from these I had doubtless gained att.i.tudes of reverence. But I am thinking of the wors.h.i.+p that spontaneously arose as I beheld the wonders of the world which G.o.d created. Young eyes are new eyes, and to new eyes all things are fresh, vivid, original.

It is sometimes asked if children and young people are capable of the religious life. Certainly they are not capable of sustained effort towards an unswerving aim. Certainly they cannot hold themselves to a consistent discipline. They cannot engage in the religious life as a conscious way of living. These abilities come only as we grow up and subject ourselves to training. But, just as certainly, young people do have religious experiences, and these often are more vivid and glowing than those of the elders. That is it--children can glow. They can light up. This capacity to glow is at the very heart of what we are talking about.

To be sure, people young and old need instruction. We need instruction in the Bible, in poetry, in all literature that contains truth and beauty. We need to be helped to struggle against our faults, to overcome our imperfections. And we need to be curbed on occasion, as the only way in which we may eventually become able to curb ourselves. But it should not be forgotten that all people, especially young people, have poetry in them. And, more than that, according to the faith of the Friends all people have within them something of the very spirit that created the scriptures.

Religious education, it seems to me, is on the wrong track if it a.s.sumes that religion is something that must be drilled into people. It is on the right track if it recognizes that the source of religion is within us as a native endowment, and that the function of education is to call this endowment forth, supply it with the nourishment it needs in order to grow, and guide it in ways that promote maturing. People should have reason to be a.s.sured that formal religion is not contrary to the springs of innate religious experience and longing, but is in accord with the life and light within, and simply seeks to direct and develop this spiritual life.

Had a Friend approached me in those days with some such understanding and a.s.surance, and had I been able to understand what he said, I would have had still another reason, and this a compelling one, for attending a meeting for wors.h.i.+p. And so I would have gone. I'd have sat there with the others, feeling much at home, perhaps feeling I was in a holy place.

I'd have sat as quietly as any for the first ten or fifteen minutes. I would not have wors.h.i.+ped in any formal sense, for I had not been taught any form. But I would have practiced my kind of inwardness, thinking my own thoughts as I did when alone, dreaming wonderful dreams, feeling a life stir within me. Had there been a spoken message or two, I would have listened attentively, tried to understand, and honestly responded.

Presently, however, I would have begun to fidget. Not knowing what I should try to do in a meeting for wors.h.i.+p, I would have had nothing to fall back on when my thoughts ran out, no purpose for curbing my increasing restlessness. Through the windows my eyes would have caught sight of the world outdoors, and I'd have wished I were out there having fun with the boys. Time would have dragged. I'd have asked myself, "Will the meeting never end?" And when finally it did end, I'd have been as glad for the ending as I had been for the beginning.

What should we try to do in a meeting for wors.h.i.+p? What do we hope to attain through it? Why is silence desirable? What is the main idea behind the Friends manner of wors.h.i.+p? It is true that Quakers wait for the spirit to move them. Why wait? Wouldn't it be better just to go ahead? Besides waiting, what more is to be done? Can we not pray and wors.h.i.+p when we are alone, or as we go about our daily affairs? Why is it necessary to meet together? What is wors.h.i.+p?

These are not questions that you answer once and for all. You continue to think about them and continue to increase your understanding. But it helps us to think if we put our thoughts in order and study the thoughts of others. So I am going to write down some of the thoughts that have come to me. We shall think about wors.h.i.+p and the central faith of the Friends, and let the answers come as they may.

WORs.h.i.+P AND LOVE

Wors.h.i.+p is the action of the spirit. It springs up from our depths, as love does. It is a form of love, and just as desirable, and just as necessary to human life at its fullest and highest. To wors.h.i.+p is an innate need of man. It is not imposed upon us from the outside, though the way we sometimes go about it may make it seem an imposition.

Suppose you are hungry. No one has to tell you to eat. No one has to force you to take food. Suppose you are in love. Must you be told to think of the person you are in love with? Must you be forced to yearn for the loved one?

Wors.h.i.+p is a hunger of the human soul for G.o.d. When it really occurs, it is as compelling as the hunger for food. It is as spontaneous as the love of boy for girl. If we feel it, no one needs tell us we should wors.h.i.+p. No one has to try to make us do it. If we do not feel it, or have no desire to feel it, no amount of urging or forcing will do any good. We simply cannot be forced, from the outside, to wors.h.i.+p. Only the power within us, the life within, can move us to it.

But others can guide our preliminary efforts. They can help us to prepare to wors.h.i.+p. Such preparation, as Rufus Jones has said, is the most important business in the world. Others can provide conditions, such as the Friends meeting for wors.h.i.+p, thanks to which the desire to wors.h.i.+p may spring up and grow. The meeting for wors.h.i.+p came into existence because the early Friends were powerfully moved to wors.h.i.+p together and meet the spiritual needs of one another. I use the word _needs_. Their spiritual needs were more dynamic than ours--or theirs--for food and shelter. Neither threats of violence nor active persecution could keep them away from their meetings.

Why is it that some of us would rather go to a movie, or listen to the radio, or see a ball game, or read an exciting book? One reason, it must be acknowledged, is because our meetings today are sometimes dull and unliving. We a.s.semble in our meeting houses, but nothing happens. A related reason is that many of us have not yet awakened spiritually. Our bodies are active. Our minds are alert. But not our spirits. Such awakening, however, will come in due time, if we encourage it, if we do our part to prepare for it, if we live honestly and are true to ourselves, face life with clear eyes, and continue growing.

The main reason why we do not wors.h.i.+p, or do not want to, is that G.o.d is not yet sufficiently real to us. He is not as real to us as our human father. His power is not as real to us as the power of man's brain and muscles, as steam power, as electricity. Wors.h.i.+p expresses man's relations.h.i.+p to G.o.d. How then can we wors.h.i.+p if we are not aware of this relations.h.i.+p, if the main party to it is unreal to us?

Some people speak of wors.h.i.+ping things that are not of G.o.d. G.o.d being unreal to them, their relation to Him being unrecognized, they turn to what is real to them, and engage in various so-called wors.h.i.+ps: money-wors.h.i.+p, hero-wors.h.i.+p, ancestor-wors.h.i.+p, the wors.h.i.+p of material power and machines, the wors.h.i.+p of political States and their rulers.

These are false wors.h.i.+ps. G.o.d is the sole object of genuine wors.h.i.+p--G.o.d and His power which He manifests to us as love, light, and wisdom.

All forms of true wors.h.i.+p arise from an experience of the _fact_ of G.o.d, from the realization that G.o.d _is_. Men such as George Fox and John Woolman had their first experiences of G.o.d early in life. Most of us come to the experience gradually and later on, if at all. What are we to do meanwhile? Most religions offer formal official statements of what they believe G.o.d to be. They say what G.o.d's nature is, and set forth His attributes. Friends make no such p.r.o.nouncement; and I, for one, am glad there is none. Man's words about G.o.d cannot subst.i.tute for a first-hand experience of the living reality. Friends are directed to seek for the reality within themselves. Meanwhile, we are called upon to have faith that G.o.d exists and that it is possible for us to meet with Him. We are called upon to prepare ourselves for this supreme experience. We are urged to try to sense G.o.d's presence, daily to practice His presence. By such practice, if we persevere, we shall surely come to have a convincing experience.

Wors.h.i.+p is our response to G.o.d's reality, a reality which is, to be sure, within men, but which also is the radiant foundation of the entire universe. In trying to wors.h.i.+p, we turn ourselves G.o.dwards. We yearn for Him and endeavor to know His will. Our lives are pointed toward Him. If, and as we succeed, we make contact with G.o.d, and by this contact He is made real to us. When He becomes real to us we spontaneously love Him.

Can we see a sunset without responding to its beauty? Can we witness those we love, in their goodness to us, without being touched and moved?

Can we hear the voice of our best friend on the phone without eagerly listening and eagerly replying? Be sure, then, that when we come into G.o.d's presence we will be touched and moved beyond our greatest expectation.

Nothing so deters us from wanting to wors.h.i.+p as the notion that wors.h.i.+p is unliving. If it is unliving it is not wors.h.i.+p. If it seems dull, tedious or difficult, it is because we are not truly wors.h.i.+ping. We are, perhaps, preparing ourselves to wors.h.i.+p. There are difficulties to be overcome in the preparatory stages. Or, we are but a.s.suming the appearance of wors.h.i.+p, there being no life, no yearning within, we being more dead than alive inside. Indeed it is dull and tedious to hold the posture, if it is not backed up by a quickening life of the spirit.

True wors.h.i.+p is a living experience. By and through it we enter into a life so vital, so vivid, so large and glorious that, by comparison, our life of ordinary activities seems narrow, dull, dead. By bodily action the body comes alive. By mental action the mind comes alive. So by spiritual action the spirit comes alive. Wors.h.i.+p is spiritual action. By means of it our spirits awake, mature, and grow up to G.o.d.

All human beings, except those who have been badly damaged by man's inhumanity to man, are moved to love. Some love animals, some flowers.

Others love the sea or farm lands or mountains. Some love truth, some love beauty. All of us want and need to love and to be loved by our families and friends, and we would be happy were we able to love all people everywhere. To love and be loved is a universal human urge. Is it any wonder, then, that we are moved to seek G.o.d's love? It is inevitable that we should desire this supreme form of love. The First Commandment expresses our innermost desire as well as G.o.d's will.

There is nothing incredible about our wanting to love and to be loved by G.o.d. The incredible fact is that it can actually happen, does happen.

Some day we will experience it. Then our doubts will end. Then we will wors.h.i.+p G.o.d through love of Him.

Here is what two religious men of advanced spiritual development had to say of their experiences. George Fox wrote, "The word of the Lord came to me, saying, 'My love was always to thee, and thou art in my love.'

And I was ravished with the sense of the love of G.o.d." Brother Lawrence wrote, "You must know that the benevolent and caressing light of G.o.d's countenance kindles insensibly within the soul, which ardently embraces it, a divine and consuming flame of love, so rapturous that one puts curbs upon the outward expression of it."

It is to this divine love that we are called. This is the high promise of man's life. We are called away from indifference, from meanness, malice, prejudice and hate. We are called above the earthly loves that come and go, and are unsure. We are called into the deep enduring love of G.o.d and man and all creation. Wors.h.i.+p is a door into that love. Once we have entered it, our every act is a prayer, our whole life a continuous wors.h.i.+p.

THE BASIS OF FRIENDS WORs.h.i.+P AND OTHER INWARD PRACTICES

Some people believe that whereas G.o.d's nature is divine, man's nature is depraved. G.o.d is good, but men are evil. G.o.d, according to this view, exists in heaven, remote from us. We exist in sin, remote from Him, in h.e.l.l or next door to it. Human beings are completely separated from the Divine Being. The only possible connection between men and G.o.d is that brought about by the mediation of the church and its authorized officials. Friends have never held this view.

Friends, beginning with George Fox, realized that something of G.o.d dwells _within_ each and every human being, and that, therefore, He is reachable by us through direct contact, and we are within His reach, subject to His immediate influence. This is the well-known basis of Friends wors.h.i.+p.

Since G.o.d is within us, Friends turn inward to find Him. This is not a matter of choice or inclination; it is a matter of necessity. Turning inward, we turn away from all externals. Friends practice inwardness.

Rufus Jones writes, "The religion of the Quaker is primarily concerned with the culture and development of the inward life and with direct correspondence with G.o.d."

Some number of Friends in the early days of the movement not only sought G.o.d but found him, though it would perhaps be better to say were found by him. It was because they found G.o.d that they had such living wors.h.i.+p, such vital meetings. It was because they truly wors.h.i.+ped and had vital meetings that they progressively discovered G.o.d and came increasingly within his power. The one led to the other. Without the one we cannot have the other.

That there is that of G.o.d in every man was, as already implied, more than a belief or a concept with the early Friends. It was an experience. It was a recovery of the living Deity. As he made and continued to make this recovery in himself, George Fox went about his apostolic work and laid the foundation of what came to be the Society of Friends. What did Fox aim for? How did he regard his ministry? Let him answer in his own words. "I exhorted the people to come off from all these things (from churches, temples, priests, t.i.thes, argumentation, external ceremonies and dead traditions), and directed them to the spirit and grace of G.o.d in themselves, and to the light of Jesus in their own hearts, that they might come to know Christ, their free Teacher."

Pointing as they do to the basis of Friends wors.h.i.+p, these several considerations do not, of themselves, throw light on the reason for certain other inward practices. The basis of these other practices is, unfortunately, less simple and less well-known. Why is there need of particular occasions for prayer and wors.h.i.+p? Why need we gather together and sit quietly? Why practice waiting before G.o.d? If He is in us, why does He not manifest to us continually, why does His power not always motivate our actions? Why do we have to practice His presence, and why is this practice so difficult? To answer these questions we are forced to adopt a somewhat complex and non-habitual view of the situation.

Suppose we are approached by a person of inquiring mind who says, "You say that there is that of G.o.d in every man. All right, I am prepared to accept that as truth. But precisely where in us does the divine spark exist? Is it in our bodies? Is it in our ordinary minds and everyday thoughts and emotions? Do you mean to say that G.o.d exists in ignorance, in man's prejudices and hatreds, in human evil?" How will we reply?

Obviously G.o.d does not exist in our trivial actions, nor in our G.o.dless thoughts and feelings. Certainly He does not exist in our ignorance and evil. But these things exist in us. They const.i.tute a part of us. This part of us, then, is separated from G.o.d, while another part is related to Him. Insofar as we identify with the separated part and believe it to be ourselves, we exist divorced from that of G.o.d in us.