101 Reasons why I like Quakerism

#84: They don't sing 'Oh Happy Day'

Ok, I'm not really compiling a list of reasons I like Quakerism :) I'm not that obsessive, and I don't even mind singing 'Oh Happy Day' on occasion.

Rob recently wrote about how churches manage depression. It got me thinking about how, when we gather together to worship as part of some kind of church/religious meeting, do we include whole manner of people in whole manner of states of mind. Is Sunday morning a pick-me-up to set me going for the week? Is it an opportunity to grieve with those who grieve? When some people come joyfully and others come with saddness - how can both give a meaningful expression to those emotions?

In my former religious incarnation we used to sing a lot of songs. We'd sing happy songs - like the one that says 'And in your presence our problems disappear!' I always thought that was a stupid line - afterall, our problems invariably didn't disappear and how can you sing that you're all happy happy joy joy when you're really depressed or grieving? Don't get be wrong, we had songs that expressed sorrow and loss too, like this one by Kevin Prosch. However, as I said on Rob's blog, I once arrived to church being my usual cheerful self to hear a worship leader chroning Prosch's song. I didn't really feel honest singing about being crushed like a rose by God's hand!!!

It is a real challenge to give space to one another in a community where some may be grieving and others may be celebrating. I like the piece of Biblical advice that says 'Rejoice with those who rejoice and mourn with those who mourn'. But can we reflect that as part of a religious meeting?

I realised that there is another aspect of Quaker silence that I appreciate: The ability to be exactly as I am and to feel exactly as I feel whilst also allowing others the same privilege.

I have come to Quaker meetings feeling terribly low. Indeed, in my first few weeks in NY I lived for that hour of silence. I was living in a dire situation, feeling desperately homesick (like I have never experienced despite leaving home and country at the niave age of 18) and wondering if it wouldn't be better if I just got back on a plane and went back to England, Cadbury's chocolate, Heinz baked beans and my friends! Sitting with others in the stillness was a wonderful place for me to truly be myself - not to pretend, not to sing along for the sake of it, but simply to be. Although I didn't spill my emotional guts for all to see (I'm British don't you know), in the silence I felt welcome as I am and able to be myself.

At other times I have come to Quaker meetings feeling happy. Last week Ken, my best friend and partner visited me in NY and we attended together. We'd had a lovely weekend and I was feeling very grateful and happy for his presence. Sitting beside him, gently holding hands we spent a grateful meeting with others, welcomed as a couple. (I've also noticed that Ken and I are not the only Quaker couples who share a quick gentle kiss on the cheek at the end of meeting!) We share our happiness with one another.

When people speak in a Quaker meeting, it often comes from the depths. I have heard people voice deep thankfulness and joy, I've also heard people express their sense of mourning and loss, I've heard people talk about how they have lost faith and others talk about how they have found it (in the same meeting!)Maybe it all sounds very individualistic - but I don't think it is. We can each feel and own our own state of mind at the time, but we can do so together as a community. To be with others in the low times and in the good times is a wonderful experience. Stillness and quietness can be a gift that we offer one another - allowing each other to simply be and enjoy the warm acceptance of a silent community travelling together through both the hard times and the good.