"Oh, Lord, bless this thy hand grenade..." - Monty Python and the Holy Grail

I have been waiting to write about my experience in last First Day's Meeting for Worship with a Concern for Business. This is mostly because I was so shaken up and angry afterwards that I didn't think I could talk about it fairly and in the Light. But now, as the old man with the plauge said in a memorable script of our dear Pythons'..."I'm getting better!'

After thinking and praying and talking, I don't think there was anything particularly treacherous about the meeting. I was just really wounded by the anger expressed over what seemed to me really petty matters, the barely concealed violence of tone, the impatience, the almost complete lack of evident tenderness and forebearance for each other, and especially the fact that each minute seemed to be composed not in unity, but in grim and grudging compromise.

It all struck me at once, like an unexpected blow to my stomach, and to my humiliation, I began to cry silently, and could. not. stop. I'm not a big crier, really, so it was disconcerting. And it was bizarre the way the tears just rolled for the rest of the meeting. I tried to take a prayerful position that hid my face and just wait it out. I felt separated from everyone in the room, and really angry, which I hadn't expected. When the meeting finally ended, I stumbled blindly out of the meetinghouse and once out of earshot, vented furiously to a sympathetic friend. He offered some very good perspective, and I calmed myself.

After a little reflection, I was suprised to discover that the overwhelming emotion, more than saddness, anger, or disappointment, was a huge amount of ignoble indignation. This didn't make sense to me at first.

I'm going to quote from some of my correspondace with Jeff Hipp, who's not only fun and really smart, but has also managed to provide a lot of clearness over the course of just a few e-mails. I told him about my indignation, and that...

"(The business meeting had) my self-rightious little self ready to walk out for the sole purpose of punishing them all with the loss of such a pious, sweet, zealous, hardworking, loving new little Friend as myself. "They'll be sorry!!!" I thought, "when they realize they've driven off the bright future of the Meeting as personified in my perfect little Quakerly self!!"

I ended up staying instead of so "punishing' them, of course, and as I
process what "went down" at that business meeting, I find that my
reactions to it have as much to do with me and my silly ever-changing
self image as it has to do with my discovery of the common-place
brittleness of the meeting."

Where was the serenity, I wondered....what of the famous patient and commited Quaker way to reaching unity, even if it took years? Why did I feel like parliment conducts its business with more courtesy than a room full of Friends?

Jeff had some answers...

"I think you may have encountered something I like to call “magical, mystical superhero syndrome.” The theory is this – someone learns about Quakers, gets really excited, runs into the nearest meetinghouse and declares, “You guys are awesome! You are magical, mystical superheroes!” The Quakers respond with, “Yes! We are! And you FOUND US! Congratulations!” And over time, the attender inevitably realizes that Friends are QUITE normal and human, often times intolerant and petty -- we just have a bit more corporate egotism than most faith communities do."

I realized he was right. What my scrunched-up little soul was really asking was:

"How dare they?!? How dare they be petty and impersonal and harried and unloving? I expected so much of them! How dare they have the same boring nasty little faults of the rest of the world? Where is my damned "Garden enclosed", for the love of God?"

Oh, I was mad.

I'd been warned repeatedly about this by many people, and I'd brushed it off. "Pshaw..." said I, "I am a sober-minded though zealous woman.Nothing can suprise me now...I've seen it all. I shall not become disillusioned, because I have no illusions!"

It's funny how the brighter the ideal, the more frail and subject it is to be turned into flashing cynicism. To me, Quakerism is Emancipated Religion. It's time for me to grow up and put away childish things - to stop having psychic tantrums everytime the "grownups" prove themselves fallible. It is a supremely important distinction that this religious adulthood has nothing to do with cynicism and bitterness and world-weariness. One can be mistaken for the other, a mistake I've made before,in both directions. I also know that I can do a lot to avoid falling into the second if I temper my religious fantasies and discipline my expectations.

I am not going to hide my light under a bushel, or ration my fire in fear that it will burn it out too fast. I truly believe that I've been given a measure of the Eternal Fire that can't be quenched - if I feed it regularly. The challenge now is to make sure it is this Fire that I allow to light my way, and not some flash, a man-made tissue-paper-and-tinsel blaze that the first mere breeze will extinguish.

I've had my share of "Holy Experiments". I want my faith, this time around, to be sustainable, steadfast, and ever-growing. Though I'm naturally zealous and energetic, being young, I feel distinctly led to withdraw a bit from the activity of the meeting. Friend RW, concerning committees and suchlike, wrote these wise words...

"If I wanted to I could sign up for everything and give a little to everything because they are all deserving and they all mean something.

But I am waiting. I know to some people the patience of a Quaker can be maddening, but it is possible that by enjoining everything the truth is I will have an effect on nothing, except maybe my conscience - which isn't the point.

I am waiting for a leading to my concern, and believe that when this occurs I will be able to have a stronger effect on what has presented itself."

This seems so true, and when applied to my own practice, so important. Naturally I want to be in the middle, working away, getting lost in good causes and the excitement of a flurry of Concerns. But if I take just a little look at myself as I AM, not as I want to be, I know that for the moment, this is a sure way to deadly pridefulness and burnout. Before I am steady on my feet in the Light, I can just see the inevitable meltdowns and crises of faith I'd be wishing down upon myself as I went into battle with the Establishment over concerns that are really Good Ideas, but not really my calling.

So instead, I'm going to take up some Quietist disciplines, read a lot, sit a lot, learn a lot, fellowship a lot. I'll continue to regularly attend the meeting, although I think I'll personally treat it like "A Meeting for Business with a Concern for Worship" and focus on silent worship instead of getting drawn into the business that doesn't concern me. And if some Martha should call me out on playing Mary, I'll just try to non-smugly direct them to the appropriate passage.

Pray for me, friends!