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

Message given at Durham Friends Meeting, August 11, 2024

What do we say to God?

A friend recommended a book of poems, Bucolics by Maurice Manning.  I trust their recommendations so I purchased it. I didn’t appreciate the poems until I started reading them out loud. These poems are one side of a conversation between the poet and Creation or God.  Reading them out loud made me pay attention. This is the poet talking to God or creation – what he calls “Boss” – without including God’s response. 

I’m going to read a few poems and some sections of poems in this message – I will read each poem twice.

O boss of ashes boss of dust
you bother with what floats above
the chimney what settles to the ground

you wake the motes from sleep
you make them curtsy in a ray of sun
they hold their tiny breath as if
they’re waiting for the little name
of the dance that’s coming next then they
will take their places Boss if I
were smaller I would join them O
I’d cut a rug or two I’d slap
my hand against my shoe if that’s
the kind of fuss you’re raising Boss
you know I never know for sure
I only know you bother me
from time to time you’ve caught my breath

a time or two you’ve stirred me up
before which makes me want to tell
you Boss I wouldn’t mind it if
you bothered me a little more

What leaps out is the clarity that the poet knows that Boss is present in each moment, each small event is significant, and that the poet feels invited to observe, comment and feels bold enough to make suggestions to Boss. This is an intimate, reciprocal relationship. The speaker is curious about Boss,  and sees themselves as a collaborator with Boss.  And Boss knows the poet fully.  By sharing their half of the conversation, we are invited into this wonderful relationship.  The poet is engaged in a ceaseless conversation and is sharing what they have learned about God from their experience.  

Am I your helper Boss or am

I not do I bring in the Hay

For me or you or only for

The horse I help the horse he helps

Me too why sometimes Boss he hooks

His head across my shoulder just

To rest it there he’ll heave a sigh

As if he’s tuckered he always makes

me laugh he knows I know he wants

an apple Boss his heavy head

on me it helps it helps so much

it helps to hear him sigh a sigh

he doesn’t really mean he means

another thing is that the way

you mean to mean another Boss

another thing beyond the thing

you want from me you see the horse

gives me a weary sigh when he’s

not sleepy Boss he doesn’t want

to hear sweet dreams from me he wants

to hear you want an apple hoss

I mean we help each other Boss

—————-

Fragments:

 … O everything gets carried Boss, / even if it never moves / I wonder if you ever notice/ but sometimes Boss I carry you.

How big is your hand Boss hold it up / to show me if you can I need / to know you know I need to know/ so many things …

I guess you’ve got a lot / of hands though I’m just one / of many Boss  I’ll turn / the earth I’ll shock the corn / O Boss whatever else / you need I’ll pitch it in …

In reading these poems, I found myself paying attention to what I say to God – beyond the intentional forms of praise and gratitude and listening. ..  I recognized that when I am asked how spirit is with me,  I’m more apt to share what I felt or heard from God then to share my side of the conversation.   Talking with God is prayer. 

In The Sermon on The Mount, Jesus is giving direct and clear guidance to his followers – to preach, to share all things in common, to heal.  But he has to teach his followers how to pray – they know how to do all the other things, but they did not know how to pray.  The prayer he talk, as it comes to us after many translations is a prayer that includes permission to make demands on God “Give us our Daily Bread”…

When I pray each morning I start singing “Praise God from whom all blessings flow..”  The way I talk to God reveals how I see God, what I know from my experience. Do I see God as playful, inviting, distant, funny, known or a mystery? Do I see God as a Savior, a Father, a constant companion? As separate from me or as something I am a part of? The other day in my morning prayers, after singing “Praise God” and noticing all that I had to be grateful for since the day before, I realized that the meadow where I go each morning was so full of bees and other pollinators that I could hear it hum.  It was this that I talked to God about through the rest of the day – not the gratitude or the praise or the petitions.  

The query that I bring is what do you say to God? Are you bold enough to make suggestions? Are you paying the close attention that creation warrants? Are you paying attention to the dance of the dust motes.  What do you say to God and how does that inform you of what you know of God?

______________________________________________________________________________

Here is a poem I did not read that I find particularly delightful and close to some of my conversations with God.

I  like the weaving bees I like

The purple clover blossoms the way

The pasture runs away I like

In winter sinking lambs in straw

How I like bearing buckets full

of water waking up the sun

I like making up a little song

O looking at the sky I close

One eye I hold my hand in the air

I let the red hawk tip my fingers

Every day I pretend I am

A tree in your pasture Boss a tree …

Message given at Durham Friends Meeting, June 23, 2024.

Message given at Durham Friends Meeting, July 7, 2024

My working theme for this message has been integrity, journey and courage.  This past month my thoughts have been on national voting impacted by Brexit, a day of remembrance for those killed in the troubles, a weekend seminar on Borderlands. 

Following the result of the Brexit referendum, Corrymeela produced biblical resources to enable Christian faith communities to talk about the nature of borders and belongings and the difficulties thrown up by Brexit. These resources have been used for catalysing conversation about all manner of borders we make between ourselves.

One such resource is that of Borderlands which met for a residential a few weeks ago.  I was able to attend part of the sessions.  

Outside of the residential Borderlands is a monthly gathering in Belfast of those who are exploring the edges of faith, the borderland of faith and our society using stories, poetry readings, music, songs, courageous conversations on faith, doubt, questions, meaning outside of traditional church, for people to come together to explore faith on the edge, at the borders of where faith stands – in a bar.   Borderlands creates a brave and bold space for people to explore difficult – often life-changing – moments from their personal lives to help others find solidarity and healing, to be agents of peace and change in the world.   To be a safe space and also a courageous space for those who ‘don’t sit comfortably in or feel excluded from the traditional spaces of faith.  Space for meaningful encounter, sacred stories, using scripture to open and extend courageous conversations rather than close them.”

Borders.  Edges. Frames with edges.  If you move the frame you are looking through the picture changes. What you see and understand changes. Borders. That which makes us stop and go no further. To declare this is us and there is you, the other.   Where we encounter our perceived limits, walls, frames. 

Each time we come to the edge or borders we can choose to go beyond or to stand and ponder, to figure out what this edge means, how it defines and defined us and what is beyond.  Can we go beyond?  Do we want to go beyond?  Why? Why not? 

At our borders we can choose to move beyond us-them divisions to ‘we’.  Many of you in this room are doing just that in the courageous conversations, seminars, writings, facilitation of different groups and more.

The Borderlands gatherings provide a space for courageous conversations along with safe places.  

Quakers were and are often on the edge.  They pushed borders, boundaries, pushed the limits of society and established churches throughout history. 

So also with the Beatitudes.  These new words and invitations were and are challenges and inspiration from Jesus to expand our understanding of others and ourselves in our struggles and poverty.  An invitation to shift our understanding of God’s love for all and  enter into courageous conversations and relationships rather than close them with walls and borders.  The Beatitudes were presented to the crowds, blessings that were on the edge.  A reading from ‘First Nations Version. An Indigenous Translation of the New Testament.  I was inspired to purchase the book after a visit from one of the authors of the book The Gatherings.

A new road, beyond the borders of the writings of the Old Testament.  ‘You have heard that it was said, an eye for an eye …  but I tell you …If some one strikes you on the cheek, or if someone wants to take your tunic give it away along with your cloak.  If someone forces you to go one mile, go two miles.   MT 5:38

We are called to go beyond the expected.  Go beyond our physical, social and psychological borders.  To be courageous.  To share the love of Spirit, God, Jesus to all.  ‘A new command I give you: Love one another.  As I have loved you, so you must love one another.’  MT 13:34  This is illustrated further in the parable of the Good Samaritan. 

‘I am giving you a new road to walk’ he said.  In the same way I have loved you, you are to love each other. ‘  First Nations version.

My personal borders.

Talking to another who has a different opinion than my own.  Where our passions contradict each other.  At least at first then we see our commonalities.  We share our truths.  Not in anger but in sharing our experiences of love of those who are a part of our stories and experiences. 

There are 2 woman who sit in the Coleraine town square.  On the ground.  I assume they do not have a home or much money.  My personal borders are raised high when I pass by.   What keeps me from doing anything?  What might I do to help?  How might I best love my neighbour?  What walls and borders keep me from acting, reaching out?

My sense of belonging where I live now.  Struggled for many years to come to terms with a desire and a need.  Limited in my frame which indicated my picture was only to be in the states but now see that the frame can be moved to include the US and where I live now.  As a good friend once said – when you know where your home is then home is everywhere.

My discomfort with the borders of the zoom frame which limits my ability to fully engage and connect with others in worship. 

It takes courage to look though the walls, to break them down, to build windows in them, to look beyond the edge of our personal borders. 

What truth is yours?  What truths are yours?  What borders do you come to in living your truth?  Borders of standing still and waiting for more insight or borders of courageous conversations?

I offer this final reading from John Lampen, who, along with his wife Diana, was the Director of Quaker House in Belfast during the Troubles.  A house where people from both sides of the walls and borders came together for courageous conversations.

An old Greek priest, a refugee, dreams that a small bird perches in front of him on a branch, singing so beautifully that all he wants is to catch it. As he tiptoes towards it, it flies away to another branch, still singing.  He follows it: and again it flies a little way off.  The dream lengthens out to days, to years, to the length of his life, and still it is out of reach, captivating him with its song.  Jesus, brother, enchant us too with your singing.  Stay beyond our grasp, do not let us put you in a cage.  Lead us forward.  John Lampen, 1985 [From Quaker Life and Practice: A Book of the Christian Experience of the Religious Society of Friends in Ireland, 1.110].

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More about Corrymeela here.

Available on the Corrymeela website is Exploring Brexit Through the Lens of Ruth