Passage into silence

From my earliest days of practicing meditation, I’ve been aware of an invisible wall of resistance or restlessness before passing into the comforting depth on the other side. It reminds me of those early experiences of a sonic boom, when planes overhead would “break through the sound barrier” – not that we sense a loud crack of arrival, but there is a distinct change all the same. Maybe it’s an awareness that the air in the room feels different – heavier, like water, is one description. Maybe it’s not that far removed from the ancient Israelite priests who “passed through the veil” to offer sacrifice in the most holy space in the Temple.

My experience of meditative worship has also changed, from the initial goal of getting naturally high or stoned – of transcending out of the world – to the present centering down into the essence of life, but the wall remains. Some weeks it’s more pronounced than others; other weeks it’s quite faint. Even so, coming to that point Bill Taber referred to as “soft eyes” worship, where Friends begin removing their eyeglasses, is delicious. Even our antique Regulator clock seems to stop ticking.


Getting intimate with soul

For me, a significant breakthrough arises in envisioning soul not as a vehicle we ride through eternity but as the Seed. That is, the soul or Seed is perceived as an abode or agent within us where we encounter the Light – or perhaps even where the Light penetrates us.

This is the discernment I find embodied in many expressions of soul in the Hebrew Bible.

For instance, in the Psalms: my soul is sore vexed, let me tear my soul like a lion, he restoreth my soul, I humbled my soul with fasting, heal my soul, I pour out my soul in me, my soul waiteth upon the Lord, my soul thirsteth for thee, my soul refuseth to be comforted, my soul longeth, rejoice the soul of thy servant, my soul is full of troubles, my soul had almost dwelt in silence, thy comforts delight my soul, bless the Lord oh my soul, the hungry soul with goodness, my soul melteth for heaviness, my soul is continually in my hand, let my soul live and it shall praise, my soul is even as a weaned child, bring my soul out of prison, and so on …

These are all emotional, experiential, and varied reactions somewhere deep within individual awareness and identity.

In other words, while we may speak of this as a place of soul or Seed, it is also a realm of psychology and the fine arts as much as theology – a dimension contemporary Friends already live within.


In the end, ours is a deeply personal faith

The best writing and best vocal ministry among us come from the well of individual experience, and even when it counsels us to a course of action, its voice seems to arise more in confession and self-discovery than from any outward agenda. What we have is both timeless and fresh.

Paradoxically, this has also called us to be part of a community of faith – individuals who also respond to this voice. The fact that we have come to sit facing one another in a circle – or, more accurately, what we call a hollow square – says something about the value we place on each other’s presence in this enlarging vision.

These days, as I look at our committee structure, I find myself seeing it recast as “ministries” – where each of us may grow and blossom through service. Ideally, then, the inward and outward would come together.


The (garden) plot thickens

In the opening chapter of Genesis, seed is even presented as the basis for morality itself: “And the earth brought forth grass, and herb yielding seed after his kind, and the tree yielding fruit, whose seed was in itself, after his kind, and God saw that it was good” – good here as both nutrition and righteousness.

And God said, Behold, I have given you every herb bearing seed, which is upon the face of all the earth, and every tree, in which is the fruit of a tree yielding seed; and to you it shall be for meat. … And God saw everything that he had made, and behold, it was very good.

Only in the Garden of Eden, in the second chapter of Genesis, is the concept of limitations introduced, again as seed, where some fruit may prove toxic to humans. Curiously, this is entwined with ethical comprehension and an awareness of individual mortality. As they say, the plot thickens.



How humbling, indeed

I’ve never asked previous clerks how they experienced sitting at the head of an institution founded in the 1660s, but I find it humbling.

The mere thought of superintending the construction of our present meetinghouse in 1768 is overwhelming enough, as is the faithfulness that led the congregation through the American Revolutionary and Civil wars. The succession of mighty Quakers who came here in traveling ministry reflects the history of the movement itself, beginning with an elderly Elizabeth Hooten, who first nurtured George Fox in the emerging faith.

Dover Friends originally sat down to worship in primitive homes and barns, then in our first two meetinghouses, and finally in the room we know so well.

There aren’t many places in the United States having organizations with such long histories. We know only a portion of ours.


In the dim filtering of time

As Friends continued to express a varied awareness of the Light, they eventually inverted its meaning from a central Light pouring into the human heart; nowadays, this Light is commonly presented instead as an innate illumination from within. Regrettably, any expression of the Seed has fallen away altogether. In effect, the modern expression of “Inner Light” obscures and occupies a range of thought belonging to the Seed, while losing the awareness of Inward Light altogether.


Taftsville Mennonite

Mennonites had a vital influence over the early Quaker movement, largely through their General Baptist connection to England. Like Friends, they maintain a pacifist witness and simplicity.

In fact, the first Mennonite congregation in North America — in Germantown, Pennsylvania — initially worshiped with a Quaker Meeting as one. By tradition, it introduced the first anti-slavery statement among Friends, who were slower to accept its call.

Unlike the mid-Atlantic and Midwest, there are few Mennonites in New England.

Taftsville Mennonite, in a former schoolhouse in eastern Woodstock, Vermont.