Message for Durham Friends Meeting based on Psalm 133, September 8, 2024
Psalm 133
How very good and pleasant it is when kindred live together in unity!
It is like the precious oil on the head,
running down upon the beard,
on the beard of Aaron,
running down over the collar of his robes.
It is like the dew of Hermon,
which fall on the mountains of Zion.
For there the Lord ordained his blessing, life forevermore.
—The New Oxford Annotated Bible Fifth Edition, NRSV
Good morning! Hallelujah! I am so grateful to be here with you this morning, and so surprised. I am surprised that Spirit asked that I bring a message to you because public vocal testimony is not my strongest gift. As Friend Sue Reilly often says, the conversation with the Divine often includes the incredulous question “You want me to do what?!” So, I am here before you in faithfulness – trusting that all will be well.[1] Please extend both patience and grace to me as I practice being faithful to this leading to be among you. What I believe I am asked to do today is to help us celebrate the joy, the labor, and the messiness of Quaker unity which like all great symphonies has plenty of dissonance. Today I hold out to you that we need to celebrate that dissonance – that messiness, that uncomfortable feeling – as part of the in-breaking of the Holy Spirit in our time. We need to figure out how to do this without becoming so focused on the dissonance, or the messenger, that we forget to take in as much of the entire opus as possible. We also need to allow the dissonances and the silences in order to appreciate and fully enter the joy of the musical experience.
I rediscovered Psalm 133, the Psalm we read this morning, after a concordance search to see what the Scriptures had to say about unity. I was asked to help present a program on the “Spiritual Literacy: Reading the Sacred in Everyday Life” and my assigned theme was unity. Honestly, the New Testament verses weren’t very helpful to me that day. They focused on unity as a way to protect and build a new community in the midst of first century Christian persecution. The authors of the text we were using as the base of this program, Frederic and Mary Ann Brussat,[2] would probably would have found the New Testament readings acceptable because they defined unity as “living in harmony with other people.”[3] They continued their description of unity saying:
“It means working for a common cause with those around the globe who know that when one person gains, all gain, and when one fails, all fail. We are crafting unity when we build communities.” They continue:
“The spiritual practice of hospitality helps us learn to respect differences and celebrate diversity in Creation. Unity is about affirming commonalities. This can be as simple as acknowledging how you are like another person. It can lead to actions demonstrating your solidarity with others. Without unity, there is little hope for compassion, justice, or peace.“[4]
I could agree – all of that is true, but for me this definition wasn’t complete enough. I had much more that I wanted to express about the process of getting to unity. As a Quaker, I have found that unity goes far beyond the Brussats’ description. Their description left out the messiness, and sometimes hurtfulness, in getting to unity. It seemed to pass too quickly over the acknowledgment of and celebration of differences as well as commonalities, and it left out the mysticism of personal unity with the Holy Spirit. That moment when one’s head, heart and gut align, and one just knows that their will is aligned with the will of the Divine. That moment when one can stop struggling and striving, at least for a short time. I delighted in this Old Testament image of messy oil and damp dew. In its poetry, the psalm seemed to capture both the messiness of unity and the mystical union that was beyond caring about any possible mess. This image of unity, with all its messiness, painted exactly the vision of what I wanted to express about Quaker unity to this non-Quaker group. As I became aware of the Holy Spirit guiding my search of the Scriptures for an adept Biblical metaphor, I experienced a tiny bit of the Everyday Sacred.
When this group and I eventually read Psalm 133 together, and I described how chaotic unity could look in my Quaker world, I wondered if I was making any sense to these non-Quaker folks. I spoke of Quakers protesting and getting arrested for any number of causes while other Quakers sit and hold them in waiting, expectant worship or stand in silence to film and witness their protest. I spoke of those Quakers raising funds for the bail and defense of those arrested. I spoke of the sacrifice of time, comfort and money on each person’s part. I spoke of Bolivian Quakers creating water filters in their country. I spoke of worldwide gatherings of Quakers and different worship practices with some worshipping by singing and shouting praises to God and Jesus while others sit in silent, expectant worship listening for the still small voice within and some who do both. I spoke of those using very different language to speak of the Divine. Those that use the words God, Christ Jesus and Holy Spirit and those that prefer to speak of the Light and the Light within. I spoke of the energy needed to lovingly listen through another’s language – a process that can be painful and rewarding at the same time. I spoke of the longing to hear one’s own language spoken by another. I spoke of intervisitation both regionally and internationally with Friends going, and being received, in a Spirit of Love and Friendship. I spoke of some of these travelers bearing needed medical or other supplies or a message that needs to be heard. I spoke of those carrying a message hearing another message in response. I spoke of other Quakers sponsoring refugees from war torn, poverty ridden, or intolerant places to come to other safer places for a better chance at reaching their divine potential; I spoke of the fear and needs of those coming and those receiving them. I spoke of Quaker Women from Kenya and the United States working together to provide something as simple as reusable sanitary pads, and the means to make more, so that poor Kenyan women could continue to go to school or work regularly and reach their potential in the place that they live. I spoke of those teaching at the Friends Schools in Portland, ME, Providence, RI and in the West Bank City of Ramallah. I spoke of painful arguing among ourselves over how all of us will be welcomed to our Quaker table. I spoke of some putting their bodies in harm’s way while others stayed home and maintain a base of operation as Margaret Fell did at Swarthmore Hall centuries ago. I spoke of those that gave of their capital so that other could answer these calls to witness to the Love of the Spirit in the World. We also spoke of the individual unity with the Divine that is possible.
I paused and asked the group if what I was describing made any sense to them. What I didn’t know was that I was speaking with some weighty and skilled musicians. To show their understanding, one of them gave me back the beautiful metaphor of dissonance in a symphony with which I opened this message.[5] The rest of the group joined in the development of that metaphor. Hallelujah, my shoulders dropped three inches, and I sighed a breath of relief as I watched this group run with this discussion of how chaotic unity could look and how messy and fulfilling it could simultaneously be. They described their understanding that Unity was not about sameness and uniformity, but an active Spirit working to make the “City of the Divine”[6] a reality for all in this moment right now. They spoke of how hard one musical piece might be to perform while another is easy. They spoke of a unity not just about building community and restoring “streets to dwell live in”[7] by working toward a common goal, but a unity of our will transformed to match that of the Divine in its many manifestations both individually and collectively.
Soon after this Spiritually-covered experience with these non-Quaker friends, I took a class on Quaker Beliefs at Earlham School of Religion with Stephen Angell. Kenyan Quaker Paster Noah Kellum was also taking that class. In the class he summarized well this symphony of messy Quaker unity when he shared:
The concept of unity in diversity is a cornerstone of Quaker belief and practice. Despite the diverse interpretations and practices that have emerged over the centuries, Quakers maintain a sense of unity rooted in shared values and spiritual experiences. This unity is not about uniformity in thought or action but a deeper spiritual connection and mutual respect that transcends differences. – Noah Kellum, May 2024
I would modify Noah’s summary only slightly to say “a sense of unity rooted in shared values and in both shared and diverse spiritual experiences.”
More recently, at our Yearly Meeting Sessions, Friend LVM Shelton expanded the metaphor of the symphony for me when she noted that the silences in the piece are often as important as the dissonance. She noted how the silent rest can mark endings, new beginnings, and changes in the direction of the movement, changes in the direction of our lives.[8]
I hope today that sharing this story of my still evolving, metaphor for Unity brings you both joy and hope for the work before us as 21st century post-modern Quakers. I hope we continue to be alive to and listen for new in-breaking of the Spirit of Love, Light, Toil and maybe even a little Chaos and Pain We may hear that still small voice anywhere – in the melody, the harmonies, the dissonance, or the silent rests. I pray that we might recognize and greet this Spirit both among us and among those that would be co-creators with us. I pray that the oil we receive is warm and free flowing and acknowledge that often I fail to perceive my oil this way. Sometimes it feels cold and sticky. I seek to feel my oil as warm and free flowing every day: however, I was recently reminded by Tammy Forner, who is here with me today as Elder, that “cold, sticky oil also serves a purpose,” one being a base for healing salves.
Now, I invite you to close your eyes and feel your oil and dew in this moment and know your condition whatever it may be. Is it blessed warm oil pouring over your head and dripping down your neck and over your collar? Is it encounter in a blessed, silent pause or in a cacophony of sound? Maybe today it feels more like a cold, sludge that you are going to need help removing. Is it getting in your eyes and dripping from your nose making your way forward seem unclear possibly filling your heart with fear? Or maybe your oil feels like gentle, anointing massage oil, working its way into your pores, relaxing and energizing at the same time. Preparing and opening you with love for whatever comes next in your call to live a life aligned with the Holy Spirit. Maybe it’s like a good hand lotion, soaking in and moisturizing your soul – hardly noticed once applied.[9] Is it so unnoticed that you forget to return to the Source and apply more before your soul has begun to dry out and long for more moisture?
And speaking of moisture, what about that dew that gives needed moisture to plants? While sometimes dew is a blessed relief from relenting heat and drought, at other times it makes your feet wet and cold and has dirt and grass clippings sticking to your shoes. That dew can make it impossible to sit down in the grass or on a lawn chair without soiling your britches. Don’t we sometimes grumble over the moisture and soiled britches and forget to be grateful for them both?
So what does unity or being in the process of getting to unity feel like for you in this moment? Does it feel like a refreshing blessing or costly, dirty struggle? Is it oily or dewy? Does it raise hot fear in you that needs the moist dew to calm it? Are you exhausted and in need of oil to relax and be rejuvenated? Are you able to feel any joy in the knowledge that unity is both a process and moments in time?[10] It’s probably clear that for me, Unity is not a destination to which we arrive together once and for all. How is your process of getting to unity both with the Divine and with the communities surrounding you fairing today?
Bibliography
Abbot, Margery Post. To Be Broken and Tender: a Quaker theology for today. Palo Alto, California: Friends Bulletin Corporation, 2010.
Brussat, Frederic, and Mary Ann Brussat. Spiritual Rx. New York: Hyperion, 2000.
[1] Julian of Norwich reference
[2] (Brussat and Brussat 2000)
[3] Ibid
[4] Ibid
[5] Thank you to Mary Anne Totten and the residents of the Havenwood Heritage Heights first “Spiritual Literacy: Reading the Sacred in Everyday Life” group for this wonderful metaphor of dissonance in a symphony.
[6] (Abbot 2010)
[7] See Isaiah 58:12 RSV
[8] Thanks to Mary Anne Totten for reminding me that a musical term for a silent pause in the music is a “rest.”
[9] Thank you to Mary Wholley, from the Hadley MA UCC church for adding the metaphor of the love of the Spirit being like hand cream to my repertoire.
[10] Thanks to Brian Drayton for a conversation in which I realized that Unity is a both/and situation. It is something that happens in a moment and a continuous process
