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The Healing Power of Quaker Worship

by Vera G. Dyck

Let the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart be acceptable in Thy sight, Oh Lord, my Rock and my Redeemer.

I grew up hearing that verse regularly. In the church where I was raised, the ministers usually recited it right before they began their sermons-a kind of prayer that God might accept and bless and use their words of preaching to communicate truth and lead to good. It seems to me to be a good thing to say before preaching. Yet for many years I had a knot in my stomach whenever I heard it.

"That's a neat prayer for them," I thought, "but what about the meditation of my heart, and the words of my mouth? Can they be acceptable in God's sight? Can they be blessed and used by God in worship?" As with most forms of traditional Christian worship, the worship experiences of my childhood did not include an opportunity for lay members of the congregation to speak. Only ministers spoke. And in the particular denomination I grew up in, only men could be ministers.

The church organization of my childhood gave me precious gifts that I will always be grateful for. It gave me access to much truth, and nurtured my passion for God. Yet it limited my ability to speak and serve according to how God was calling me, and to value myself as having been created in God's image. Although I cherish many ideas and relationships with people that began there, I have chosen to distance myself from that organization. And I am deeply grateful to have landed in the Midwestern heart of Quakerdom at this juncture of my life. I want to share with you how it is that worshipping with this meeting has been so healing for me.

Listen carefully to the voice of the Lord your God… for I am the Lord who heals you… I bore you on eagles' wings and brought you to myself.
(Exodus 15:26,27; 19:4)

Steve and I came to Richmond a year ago knowing that it was a Quaker center. Steve's Mom had given us The Peaceable Kingdom a few years ago, and we had both loved it. I had interviewed at the Earlham School of Religion as a prospective student. We knew enough to hope that we would find much in common with Friends, and to expect that the community would be an open enough space that whatever differences arose would be tolerated.

I had never heard of a "programmed meeting," and when I did, it didn't sound very "Quaker" to me. Being totally fed up with the structure of listening without response to sermons, I was uninterested in coming to the programmed meeting someone invited us to. I was in no mood to listen to another man giving sermons week after week, even if he was a Quaker, thanks just the same.

But we were living across the street from some of the friendliest people we had ever met. I remember the kids saying, "Wow, when they say they are Friends, they are not kidding. If that's what being Quakers is, we want to be Quakers too." I felt the same way. But a programmed meeting??? Well, if our wonderful neighbors worshipped there, we could at least try it.

I don't really remember the first few meetings for worship I attended here. I remember being thrilled that you were looking for people to sing, and do special music. But what I remember most were the conversations following meeting-with the pastor and others in the fellowship hour, and sometimes over lunch with our neighbors. Most of the conversations were about the structure of things among Friends. I wanted to know who made the final decisions, whether any meetings had women pastors, whether women gave the messages sometimes, and who decided who could speak. I learned some Quaker history, and about how the programmed tradition had arisen. But still, my fists were up, my running shoes were on. I'm a little embarrassed that I was such a "one issue" person, that I really couldn't even begin to open myself to everything that was happening, or even the warm reaching-out of many people to us, until I got the leadership question sorted out in my mind.

It was such a relief to have it gradually sink in that perhaps this was the real thing. That in the Religious Society of Friends, there is no hierarchy, no division between laity and clergy, and that women have always had the same invitation as men to speak in meeting for worship and for business. And-here was the real clincher-that I, if and when I felt called by the Spirit to do so, could speak in meeting, could sit on the facing bench, and could even give the message. All I would have to do was let it be known that I had been led to do so.
I had been raised to believe that "The Word" was something to be found in a book, the letters on the page given as revelation to someone else a long time ago. But new meaning was given to this concept of "The Word" in the experience of Quaker worship. Yes, "The Word" could be found in written revelation, but it was also coming directly from God through heaven every day where hearts and minds were open. Later, I came upon a passage from one of Swedenborg's books that said this as well.

"For 'by a voice from heaven' is signified all that proceeds from the Lord, which...is called Divine Truth, and with us in the world, "The Word..." This is called a voice from heaven because it has descended from the Lord through heaven." (Apocalypse Explained, by Emanuel Swedenborg, #668)

I clearly remember asking West Richmond's pastor about who was allowed to speak in meeting and give messages. "So Quakers say that the Word comes to people, comes through people, but which people? Only to card-carrying Quakers, right?" The question I couldn't quite ask was that old, old, question: what about me? "My words, and the meditation of my heart?" My whole body was braced for rejection, for proof that men in leadership in organized religion could not be trusted, that at the very best they would condescend to allow women to speak, and of course, members only. That kicker never came.

Quote from 19th century British Friend, Caroline Stephens

I, a non-member, a newcomer to town and to Friends, and a woman, was welcome-not politely tolerated, not given permission because being politically correct required it, but warmly invited to speak as I felt moved by the Spirit inside me to do so. The pastor expressed that it was not his place to allow or forbid someone's speaking; that was up to God.

And I heard as it were the sound of a great multitude, and as it were the voice of many waters, and as it were a rumble of mighty thunders, saying "Alleluia, for the Lord God, the Almighty, reigns." (Revelation 19:6)

Well. It took a while for this to sink in. I had spent two years of my life on a study called "Paradigm Shift and the Issue of Women in the Clergy," in which I challenged the policy of barring women from preaching and speaking in worship. I had begun this paper when my daughter was about six months old and I realized that I could not raise her in an organization that restricted her voice and opportunities for ministry the way it had restricted mine. For a long time now, the thing that I had been propelled to speak was that all people have something to say, and need to be listened to with humility and a desire to learn what God may be speaking through them. That no one has the right to interfere with what God may want to speak, and through whom. And here it seemed I wasn't going to need to say it! It was understood. It was the starting point for worship.

Finally I could return fully to...listening. Being quiet in the Silence. Opening myself deeply in worship. WOW.

The Lord called Samuel again, a third time. And he got up and went to Eli, and said, "Here I am, for you called me." Then Eli perceived that the Lord was calling the boy.
Therefore Eli said to Samuel, "Go, lie down; and if he calls you, you shall say, 'Speak, Lord, for your servant is listening.'" [In the morning] Eli called Samuel and said, "Samuel, my son." He said, "Here I am." Eli said, "What is it that he told you? Do not hide it from me."(I Samuel 3:8,9,16,17)

It was like Eli (the keeper of the sacred space) had at last stopped sending me away saying, "what are you talking about, no one called you." He had at last realized that even though he wasn't calling me, the Lord was." Something very important about God is being spoken, and lived, just in the very structure of open worship.

Certainly those of you who have come into a Friends Meeting from other religious organizations with top-down leadership will resonate with some of my amazement at suddenly finding myself in this space. And I expect even those of you who have been brought up Quaker have had enough experience of being voiceless elsewhere to know what an incredibly precious thing it is to worship in a space where God might choose to speak through you, and where this will be honored.

Worshipping here has been for me an experience of living truths that I have long believed, such truths as: "GOD is alive, God is indeed very near, God is in everyone no matter what we look like, what gender we are, how old or young we are, what color our skin is, what we do for a living, where our organizational membership lies, what the specifics of our beliefs are." It says, "God is in me." We can not underestimate the healing power of this belief and worship based on it. It says, "God wants to, and will, be known, seen, heard, felt-through us all." Open worship says to us, "Open your eyes, your ears, your mind, your heart, to each other, and in this way, to Me."

I especially love open worship, but I have also come to value the programmed structure. Far from limiting the movement of the Spirit in all of us, it actually gives God a greater voice-through ours. Unlike what I originally assumed, a programmed meeting doesn't mean more time with the preacher preaching at you and you listening to the preacher; it means anyone who is moved to speak and has more to say than can be said during open worship, or who wants to spend time alone in prayer, study, and reflection, and then bring something in to speak, can, and there will be a time and place where people will be eager to hear you speak. And it means there is a pastor thinking about the meeting as a whole, continually seeking to co-ordinate and empower all the other ministers serving according to their callings. To me this is real leadership: it does not seek to be in charge, but rather to help others find their own leadership and ministries.

What a precious, precious space of worship this is, may we never take it for granted. May we honor its sacredness, and thank the Power and Glory and Mercy of the God who has brought us all together. May we continue to say to each other-and to every person who walks in to worship with us-as Eli said to Samuel, "What has the Lord told you? Do not hide it from me."

Vera was raised in the General Church of the New Jerusalem, one of four worldwide Christian denominations based on the theological writings and biblical interpretations of 18th century Christian mystic Emanuel Swedenborg. The General Church is one of the more conservative branches of the Swedenborgian Church both in terms of its interpretations of Swedenborg, and also its policies and government.

A few months ago, I heard Vera speak at West Richmond Friends about her experience of Quaker worship. We sometimes feel a bit sheepish about open, or unprogrammed, worship in this era of the highly polished, "seeker sensitive," media-driven churches. Hearing the testimony of a newcomer to Friends, rekindled my own excitement about the treasure we have in the free Gospel ministry, and the silence from which it emerges.

Editor

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