Friends Bulletin- Building the Western Quaker Community Since 1929-December 1998

24 Pages·1998·2.8 MB·English

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Building the December
Western 1998
Quaker Volume 67
Community Number 4
Since 1929
Fiction, Poetry, a
J
Friends Bulletin Fromthe Editor Ocean of Light, and Darkness
The official publication of
Pacific, North Pacific and ^ — ighting Candles in the Dark” is a beautiful metaphor for the work of
Intermountain Yearly Meeting J Quaker artists and visionaries. And it’s wonderful to learn that a chil-
—
of the Religious Society of dren’s book of the same name will be published in the former Soviet Union with
Friends (Quakers)
a little help from Friends (see p. 48).
(Opinionsexpressedare thoseofthe
authors, notnecessarilyoftheYearly Another metaphor that comes to mind to describe Quaker creativity is Fox’s line
Meetings.) about an “ocean of light and love.” As wave after wave of Quaker poetry and fic-
Editor/Publisher tion poured over my desk and life this year, I have sometimes felt as if I have been
Anthony Manousos swimming in an ocean of light.
5238 Andalucia Court In January Kirsten Backstrom sent me her deeply moving essay “On Being Lost
Whittier, CA 90601 —
and Being Led” an account of a night walk in a snowy wood, and her struggles
Phone: [phone]
Fax: [phone] with cancer, and how she has learned the importance of waiting for Guidance.
[email protected] Six months ago, when I was visiting Aliyah Shanti (the ten-year-old poet whose
Website: www.quaker.org/fb
picture graced the cover of the July-August issue), her father David read aloud his
IMYM story “Joseph’s Annunciation.” It was so compelling and provocative that I could
Corresponding Editors
Maria Krenz, 10107 Gold Hill Rd, hardly wait to share it with the readers ofFriends Bulletin.
Boulder, CO 80302 At a recent gathering of Friends Committee in Unity with Nature, Tom Farley
W
Doris Tyldesley, 703 Meseto gave me his touching story about a handicapped girl and her twin brother.
Mesa, AZ 85210
Eleanor Dart’s poetry and letter from her late father arrived recently via the
NPYM Corresponding Editors Internet. With great sensitivity, she reminds us that the joy and pain of the holiday
Carole Lindell-Ross season cannot always easily be separated.
4Sa8l7e3m,ToOwRhee97C3t0,2 Last summer I was present at NPYM when Marty Grundy gave her inspiring
Don Goldstein talk, “Who Is That Stranger In Our Midst?” Her questioning of our liberal Quaker
PO Box 1010, assumptions provoked us to think about the living Christ, and our Quaker “Golden
WA
Twisp, 98856 Goose,” in new ways.
Jean Triol
PO Box 367, Along with this ocean of light has also come an ocean of darkness. When Jean
Somers, MT59932 Triol sent me a report about a nasty verbal assault on Pansy, a gay Friend in Mon-
PYM tana, I was reminded of the recent savage murder of Matthew Shepard, a gay stu-
Corresponding Editors
Bobbi Kendig dent at the University of Wyoming. As James Wall points out in The Christian
3275 Karen St, Century, “assaults on gays have been on the rise throughout the nation...heightened
Long Beach, CA 90808 by the rhetoric and activities ofthe Religious Right. ...”
[phone]
The Religious Right poured millions of dollars into an effort to pass an
FriendsBulletinBoardofDirectors amendment to the Hawaian Constitution that would effectively bar same-sex
marriage. I am pleased to report that the AFSC took a strong stand in opposition to
Jeannie Graves, Clerk
2960 Dom Ct, this measure, which, unfortunately, passed (see p. 59).
Laguna Beach, CA 92651 Many of us Friends need to be reminded that not all Christians are homophobic.
Lucy Fullerton, Treasurer Presiding Episcopal Bishop Frank Griswold expressed the enlightened Christian
41 1 N 90WtAh St, #402, viewpoint when he said that we have a “particular responsib—ility to stand with gays
MarySeLaotutlCeo,ppock9,8R1e0c3ordingClerk and—lesbians, to decry all forms of violence against them from verbal to physi-
514 E Colgate cal and to encourage dialogue that can, with God’s help, lead to a new apprecia-
Tempe, AZ 85283 tion for their presence in the life of our church, and the broader community.”
Cynthia Taylor I also take heart from Pansy’s enlightened example—an example that a Friend of
962 26th St,
Ogden, UT 84401 the Living Christ would approve. Pansy not only urges us to speak out against ho-
Arden Pierce mophobia, he also asks us to pray for those benighted souls who verbally assaulted
3498 South Court, him.
Palo Alto, CA 94306 How blessed we are to have such Friends among us, lighting candles in the dark-
Anne Friend
2649 Kenwood Ave, ness!
Los Angeles, CA 90007
Alan Chickering
1916 Orange St SE, Apt B, \A<W\caaT<rf
WA
Olympia, 98501
• Friends Bulletin (USPS 859-220) is published monthly except February and August by the Friends Bulletin Corporation of the
Religious Society of Friends at 5238 Andalucia Court, Whittier, California 90601-2222. Telephone [phone]. Periodicals postage paid
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• POSTMASTER: Send address changes to Friends Bulletin, 5238 Andalucia Court, Whittier, CA 90601-2222.
—
Page 45 Friends Bulletin December 1998
—
n the case ofa virgin who is pledged
I —
to a man ifa man comes upon her
in town and lies with her, you shall take
the two of them out to the gate and
stone them to death; the girl because
she did not cry outfor help in the town,
and the man because he violated his
neighbor’s wife. Thus you will sweep
away evil from your midst.
Deuteronomy 22: 23-24.
T
hen Joseph her betrothed, being a
just man, and not willing to make
her a public example, was minded to
—
take her away in secret. Matthew 1.19
H
e loved her, deeply he loved her,
but he didn’t believe it. Not a word of it.
And he was quite certain she didn’t ei-
ther.
She was already beginning to show a
little. This tale about visitations by an-
gels, and impregnation by God was
strictly her way of covering. The God
part was the parlance of the day, just a
manner of speaking. No one knew why
children were visited upon us, or why,
sometimes, they weren’t. It wasn’t for
lack of trying. Children were God’s
blessing. In this case, would it be His
curse? No one believed in angels.
But what else could she say? He knew
the child wasn’t his, although if that had
been the case, at least there wouldn’t be
any shame in it. He wondered if it was
her uncle, who beat her beyond reason
and without mercy. Or maybe she had a
lover? He doubted that. The story about
the angel was told so poorly, with so George de la Tour, Joseph the Carpenter, c. 1645. The Louvre, Paris.
little art and subtlety, with such lack of
conviction. She wasn’t telling the truth, throw her into the streets to escape his cracked against the side of her skull,
her eyes red with weeping told him as family’s shame, or even his own. His and he could see her frail body left
much, but most definitely it was not love father could demand her younger sister, limp and bloody beside the gates, to be
she was hiding. And the way she spoke, who was, as yet, merely a child, even if carried off at night by strangers to an
with such fear in her voice and trem- but two years younger, in her stead. unmarked grave.
bling in. her limbs. Her whole body pled, This would be the best which could And what if she gave up this tale of
“Do notreject me, and do not ask.” occur. His brothers could require her heavenly visitation and surrendered
He wouldn’t ask. It would be better if death. The law required it, as she was the name of her attacker? It had all the
he didn’t know. They were already be- pledged to him and didn’t cry out. The makings of a blood feud. He would be
trothed, but the wedding had been penalty was the same as for adultery. asked, no, required to lead it. People
planned for next spring. He would be They would not likely await the law’s had long given up any hope of obtain-
justified in breaking the engagement. If verdict. Her uncle would eagerly render ing justice from their own courts,
his father found out, the marriage would her up. In his mind’s ear, he could hear which had surrendered even the ap-
surely be called off, and her uncle would the stones cast by his brothers as they ("Joseph’sAnnunciation," cont. onp. 47)
—
Friends Bulletin December 1998 Page 46
(“Joseph'sAnnunciation,” cont. fromp. 46) ing tribute and taxes. He himself had reject him, scorn him, grow to despise
pearance of impartiality. Faced with been born under a similar proclama- him, father to grief, an outcast father in
Solomon’s challenge of determining tion, as had many of his brothers. The a foreign land?
an infant’s mother, they would have decrees were read, and fathers would He began to sweat. This could not
sold the baby to the highest bidder. ransom their children through the tax be the way. This way was the madness
And sometimes, with first-born male collector. When the proclamations of the world, that which had made him
children pledged by law to the Tem- were cancelled, fathers were expected lose his home, his family, his world,
ple, and whom their parents could not to offer tribute in thanksgiving and all that he held dear, all, but her. He
afford to redeem, they did just that. gratitude. This was an old story. The thirsted. The way, the only way, was
The Roman courts? Even if one could greater danger for the child would be forgiveness. His head began to swim.
manage to understand them, very few to be born in the alley outside the city Forgiveness. Unmerited. Undeserved.
people ever returned from Roman ju- walls beside the fields of the dead, Unasked for. A new law, a new begin-
risprudence with their worldly goods where she would raise the child to be ning. His body shook. Uncontrollably.
intact, if still in possession of their raised among the dead and among A rule of forgiveness which would
lives. strangers, without a future, and without cause princes to bend, and govern
No, blood feud it would be. Throats a past, not even one which could be kings and vagabonds, soldiers and
cut, the acid of fear and rage admixed, invented. slaves, architects and carpenters,
eating at their bellies. That’s how it He loved her, but could he accept equally, and which would brook no
had always been, and perhaps always this child? He wasn’t sure. He didn’t exceptions. If only he could convince
would be. His brothers and his father even know what it would be like to be them. A forgiveness which would
would settle for no less. And if he was- a father. Certainly he had not planned shake the foundations of the world.
n’t killed in the process, the Romans on it so soon. The flight would be Joseph’s law, born of his love for her.
would have a cross waiting. For him. rough on them, and he had little This is what he would teach his child.
But he loved her. He still loved her. money. The child would likely be born Love. He would love his child. Love
His whole being ached with love. on the road, perhaps at an inn, maybe his child as he loved her, uncondi-
Strangely, he loved her even more under a tree, or, he had a vision, in a tional love, with all his heart, with all
now. He loved her more for the manger? He liked that. In his experi- his soul, and with all his might, love
strange story she told, and the strain ence, animals, more so than humans, more than he loved himself. He would
she manifested in the telling. were accepting of each other, at least protect his child as he would protect
He saw clearly they would have to of their own kind, the black sheep with her, keeping watch over them at night,
leave. In the middle of the night, like the white, the pure brown cow with the like a shepherd in the field, keep them
thieves, steal away. Forever. There brindled. He could imagine the animal out of harm’s way. He would love and
would be no wedding, and no good- smells, and she lying there, her brow teach his child, suffer for his child,
byes. They would leave no trace be- bathed in sweat, the baby suckling at continue to suffer, die for his child, if
hind. He would take his carpenter’s her distended breasts, and he standing it was required, and he was called
tools. She would change her name. To there, useless, and, curiously, and ut- upon. He was ready, or would be, or
Mary. He would lie about his lineage terly, alone. so he thought.
so as not to be found out. Something He loved her, but what child would At last. Thankfully. He was asleep.
safe. Common. this be? Unto them the child would be In the night. He dreamed. He dreamed
Something which would never be born, but not of his flesh and blood. Of he had been visited, and heard an an-
questioned. That was easy. All his that he was certain, though what to gel’s voice. He saw. He dreamed he
countrymen who had left Judaea, be make of this fact had him confused. He saw. A great light. He loved her, and
they merchants, criminals, or thieves, as of yet had no experience of sex, and he saw, a great light, and now he was
especially thieves, claimed they were would not touch her while she was with sure. It would be a daughter.
descended of David, or so he had been child. Would he ever? For him, forever
told. Abroad there were probably more for him, this would be a virgin birth. David H. Albert describes himselfas
descendants of David than of Abra- Would there ever be other than this “a homeschooling parent, writer, mu-
ham. How many generations would child born ofsorrow? sician, and would-be nature lover, ifI
that be? His mind ached. He would He loved her, but the child, would he only knew how. ” He is currently re-
writing the Old Testament, as ‘they
have to figure that out later. grow to hate the child? Child of a vile,
He loved her, but what of this child? hateful act, could this be a child loved? left out all the good parts. He says
Leaving now would put the child out Would he revenge himself upon the ‘‘the hardest thing in my life is trying
to be a Friend. ” His daughter, Aliyah
of Herod’s reach, as if that mattered. child, even as he could not bring him-
Shanti, appeared on the cover of
Kings were always threatening the self to do, or have done, upon her? —
Friends Bulletin (July Aug., 1998).
death of children as a way of extract- Would the child be a stranger to him,
—
Page 47 Friends Bulletin December 1998
joy a better life. This is certainly
Janet Riley and I met on the shores true in many respects; however,
of the Delaware River fourteen some areas of Russian society
years ago, when Ifelt a leading to go are suffering. One area affected
to Philadelphia and get involved with is the local schools throughout
Quakers. (See my Pendle Hill pam- Russia. The Soviet education
phlet, "Spiritual Linkage with Rus-
system is bankrupt: teachers
sians. ”) For six years, we worked to-
unpaid for long periods,
gether on an historic Quaker-inspired
school buildings in disrepair
Soviet-American book project entitled
The Human Experience. It’s wonderful and classrooms barren of
to see that Janet continues to carry the suitable textbooks void of
torch for improved relations between communist propaganda.
the United States and theformer Soviet Lighting Candles in the
—
Union. Editor. Dark is not only an at-
tempt to help fill this
void, but also to provide
By Janet Riley, meaningful material for
Los Osos Meeting children to ponder and
A discuss.
A
n exciting international event small group of
directed towards Russian youth twelve-year-old students in
will take place in the Former Soviet Novgorod (a small town not too far
Union, namely, the bilingual (Russian/ from St. Petersburg) first prompted
English) publication of the popular us to publish Lighting Candles in dles in the Dark for Russian children,
Friends General Conference children’s the Dark in Russia. Many of the sto- teachers of English, parents, and older
book, Lighting Candles in the Dark. ries were read and discussed in Eng- students ofEnglish.
The stories in this book are based on lish at a local Novgorod school in The bilingual edition will be do-
the basic human values of non- 1994. Their instructor, Janet Riley, nated to teachers of English in schools
violence, fairness, kindness, service was traveling in the ministry under we already have a relationship with in
and care of the earth. Most of the the care of Central Philadelphia the regions of Novgorod, Moscow, St.
thirty- four stories in the collection are Monthly Meeting. She had expected Petersburg, Serpikov, Perm and Kez.
true, depicting events in the lives of them to respond favorably but never They will be used as a springboard for
people exemplifying these values. expected such deep understanding discussions in addition to language
The Quaker FSU (former Soviet Un- and enthusiasm. During one of the study. One teacher could expose sev-
ion) Committee, Friends General Con- last classes, the children were in- eral classes to the book year after year,
ference Publications Committee, and vited to give their honest opinions of keeping it in constant use.
Friends United Meeting are coordinat- the stories. They were asked also The book will be in four-color with
ing this project. We are working about the appropriateness of provid- a hard cover. Artistic illustrations for
closely with Friends House Moscow ing a bilingual edition for other Rus- each story were created by young peo-
and several Moscow Meeting Mem- sian children. Their response was ple from Russia, the United States,
bers. Additionally, the project has been very much in the spirit of a gathered Britain, Cuba and Ramallah. Some of
endorsed by the East-West Relations Friends meeting. English teachers in the art work and the stories can be
Committee of Pacific Yearly Meeting, the school also began to read some seen at http://www.quaker.org/russia.
which encourages Friends to support it. of the stories and were also attracted We are ready to move into the final
This significant publication is much to the rich content ofthe material. stage of this project, but are a little shy
needed by those in Russia who will be With this positive encouragement in meeting expenses for printing. All
served. When the Soviet Union became from our Russian friends and co- other expenses have been met. The
a more open society, we in the West workers, we decided to publish a material has been edited and trans-
felt that Russians, now free, would en- bilingual edition of Lighting Can- (“Lighting Candles,“ continuedonpage49)
—
Friends Bulletin December 1998 Page 48
— — —
(“Lighting Candles,“ continuedfrompage 48) Lighting Candles in the Dark to frui- Moscow City Council. We pre-
lated. The youth art is in our hands. tion in Russia. We seek your generos- sented these signatures to the USSR
Our Moscow publisher is ready to be- ity in this worthwhile endeavor and Youth Commission and the Russian
gin printing. As usually happens in hope you will feel led to offer assis- Human Rights Commission. Am-
such projects, funds are greatly tance. nesty International eventually as-
needed. We are seeking the generosity sumed responsibility for this project.
of individual F/friends, Friends Meet- Past projects of the Quaker/FSU • publication of translated Quaker lit-
ings and Churches to help bring the Committee include: erature, the Russian Quaker Library,
vision of the Russian edition of Light- now includes: Testament of Devo-
ing Candles in the Dark to fruition. • the publication of The Human Expe- tion (Kelly); The Prophetic Stream
Printing costs are expected to be rience. An editorial team of Rus- (Taber); Introduction to Quaker
about $5.00 per book: $120 will cover sians and Americans selected short Spirituality (Steere); and Quaker
printing costs for 24 books, enough for stories and poems from each country Practice After the Manner of
We
two classrooms. have $12,000 in based on the theme of the everyday Friends (Moehlman). Lighting Can-
hand, and would like to raise $10,000 life of people in both countries. It dles in the Dark will be the next
more to cover printing and distribution was published by Alfred A. Knopf publication. John Punshon has writ-
costs. in the U.S. and Hydozhvestnnaya ten, at our request, a brief history of
Through stories, children come to Literatura in Russia. Authors in- Friends especially for Russian read-
see themselves as God’s hands in the cluded John Updike, Yvgeny ership, to be published at a later
world, helping to make things safer Yevtushenko, Alice Walker, Bulat time.
and better for people and for the earth Okuzhjava, Stanley Kunitz, Andrei
itself. When children meet many peo- Voznesensky, Yunna Moritz, and Other information:
ple who believe that life is precious Garrison Keillor. After publication
and who dare to respond to hate or there were two conferences for the Your tax-deductible donation checks
unfairness with love and nurturing in- book’s authors, one in Washington can be made out to: Quaker US\USSR
stead of more hate, they can see the
D.C. at Friends Meeting of Wash- Committee (our legal name) and
power of one individual to make a dif-
ington, and the second in Moscow. mailed to: Janet N. Riley, 1517 Ni-
ference. The creation of the Russian • distribution of charity aid to a few pomo Avenue, Los Osos, CA 93402-
edition of Lighting Candles in the
Dark has grown out of a wish to help families and an institution of people 2913. Janet can also be contacted at
all children learn the ways of peace with mental handicaps 805-534-9597 [email protected].
Further financial information can be
and to teach them to live a philosophy ® the collection of 4,000 signatures
oflove, as opposed to hate. from the West in support of an Al- obtained from Winston Riley III,
The moving response of the ternative Service Law that was being Treasurer at 721 Park Ave, Plainfield,
Novgorod children prompts us to bring introduced by four deputies on the NJ, 7060. 908-757-1234.
Reader Responses the “playground” (what a sick name [Thefollowing letter was passed on to
for the battlefields of childhood!) at the editor by Mary Beth Webster of
Benson Elementary School in Rose- Grass Valley.]
Dear Editor: Just a note to say how burg, Oregon. I just read your poem in the July/
much we enjoy Friends Bulletin Since My oldest daughter (now 24) at age Aug. Friends Bull [sic] and felt a letter
\
George’s blindness does not permit seven was attacked on a school bus in coming on. Going to a pot-luck in our
him to read, I read it aloud. We have Hingham, Massachusetts, when a small town worship group is a com-
just finished reading cover to cover the twelve-year old boy wanted to test her mon occurrence. The best cooks are
October issue. It was great! “Dudu” Quaker convictions. He had boots and vegetarians but most of the men are
Mtshazo and I were in the same work- used them to continue kicking her meat-eaters, including my husband. I
shop at a conference in England sev- body even as she hid under the bus usually bring meat plus whatever
eral years ago. I can understand what a seat to avoid him. She did not strike grows in my garden. My fa—vorite foods
blessing it was to have her with you at him back. And the bus driver did noth- are bread and potato salad neither of
North Pacific Yearly Meeting this ing to stop the incident. When I talked which I make well. So I depend on
year. Elizabeth and George Watson, to the school the next day (in 1981) others. When I see fancy casseroles
Minneapolis, Minnesota they were inclined to do little until I which have consumed hours in prep
said the word “lawyer.” The boy was time, I invariably feel guilty. Your
Dear Editor: I enjoyed your editorial suspended from school for a week and poem has helped take away this guilt.
on “The Pains of Growing Up Paci- lost all of his school bus privileges for “To each their own.” Kitty Bejnar,
fist” (Nov. 1998). Even as a girl I was the year. Carole Lindell-Ross, Salem Socorro, New Mexico.
roughed up, punched and kicked on (Oregon) MM.
—
Page 49 Friends Bulletin December 1998
our assumptions are
By Kirsten Backstrom,
called into question; if
WMultnomah Meeting we can see such experi-
ences as special chal-
hat does it mean to lenges, we can be led in
“have a leading”? unexpected directions. A
How do we know when we leading is something that
are being led, and how do we comes from beyond our
—
live our lives so that it is pos- familiar identities from
sible to perceive and follow God, or from our own
our leadings? larger selves. An answer
As a child and young comes, clear and com-
adult, I had a reputation for plete, where we’d
frequently getting lost, but I thought there was no an-
was also known for my “good swer, when we’d barely
sense of direction.” Though begun to acknowledge a
the two things would seem to question. Mysteriously, a
contradict each other, they leading develops out of
were,—in fact, directly re- the elements of ordinary
lated my ability to find my life, just as a pattern or
way grew out of my tendency path might emerge from
Knowing that I was in serious trouble, I did the only
to get lost. Only when we are a selection of random
able to wander off the trail thing that I could do: I stood still, breathing and landmarks mapped in the
and lose ourselves will we waiting. Many years later, when I found out that I had dirt, yet it transcends
My
discover the deeper “sense of cancer, I did exactly the same thing. one clear those elements by show-
direction” that can lead us leading said, “When there is nothing to be done, ing us a way through
home. them and beyond them.
do nothing. Wait.”
My first job offered me In recent years, when I
plenty of opportunities to was wandering bewil-
learn about the process of dered in the landscape of
losing and finding my way, quite liter- and began to develop a “sense of direc- cancer, chemotherapy, radiation treat-
ally. I worked as a volunteer at an tion,” I could allow myself to get lost ments, and a long, slow recovery, I
Audubon wildlife sanctuary, hiking out more or less on purpose. The mainte- rediscovered my own propensity for
alone to clear and maintain the more nance work involved seeking out sel- getting lost and being led. The trails all
remote trails. Often enough, I’d come dom-used paths that were overgrown seemed to end in tangles of briars, or
stumbling back to the center well past and difficult to discern; often, finding pools of dark water, or empty, open
dusk, covered with mosquito bites and and clearing the trail really just meant fields. This was unfamiliar country,
bramble scratches, after having wan- imagining where a trail might have been and perhaps—it would be night soon. I
dered in circles for hours with no idea or where a trail might belong, and then was afraid but also awestruck, in-
where I was going. But eventually I creating one. It was natural to find my- trigued, and hungry to explore. So, I
came up with a system that helped. self “in the middle of nowhere” from left the trails at their dead ends and
Whenever I got lost, I would squat time to time. I enjoyed the feeling of just walked wherever the woods would
down and draw a map in the dirt with a dislocation and mystery that came from make way for me.
twig, including every landmark that I having no clear course and waiting for In other words, I gave in to what I
could remember. Soon, a pattern and a “way to open.” was experiencing. Cancer created dras-
path would begin to emerge among Experiences like this gave me an tic changes in my body, my emotions,
—
these known points. I could look at the early inkling of what a leading is like. my identity as though an earthquake
real woods around me and sense which In our everyday lives, we often encoun- had rearranged the whole landscape;
direction was the right one. ter periods of confusion, indecision, there were obstacles everywhere, and
As I grew to trust this procedure frustration and even disorientation when (“Being Led,” continuedonpage 51)
—
Friends Bulletin December 1998 Page 50
)
("Being Led,” continuedfrompage 50) ness, the next immediate step was al- seriously and dangerously lost, under
all familiar routes led to detours or ways made clear for me just when I conditions where no easy mapping
were simply closed. At every turn, I needed to take it. This all-pervasive procedure would help me, and only a
came up against pain, nausea, exhaus- meaningfulness did not come as a dra- deeper “sense of direction” could lead
tion. In the mirror, I met someone un- matic flash of enlightenment but as a me through; this experience bears
recognizable: a bald, pale, hollow- gentle, constant leading that directly comp—arison with what cancer was
eyed, trembling gnome of a woman. influenced my attitudes, decisions, ac- like not in scale or significance, but
—
My
relationships with the significant tions, relationships and identity then in essence.
people in my life felt different: closer and since. The landmarks I had always I was in my mid-twenties and living
and more intense, but less easy, less known, my priorities and purposes with a friend in a tiny cabin of rough
casual and less “normal.” I could not seen from a new perspective, became logs, without plumbing or electricity,
concentrate enough to work, did not part of a larger pattern that extended on the edge of a marsh in the woods of
We
have the physical strength for any ordi- well beyond the limits of my own life- Maine. were a half mile from the
nary activities, and had to make new time. And the leading that emerged nearest road, a quarter mile from the
choices about what was most impor- was a path I could have followed read- muddy spring where we got our water.
tant to me. ily, even if it had led me through my The one room was lit by propane and
As I looked at the strange, altered own death instead ofin the direction of kerosene lamps, and heated by an old,
landscape, I knew that none of my for- healing. Something beyond me was at inefficient wood cook stove. It was
mer certainties applied here. Yet with- work within me; it was as close as I mid-January; my friend was away for a
out the well-worn avenues, the wilder- can imagine coming to the immediate few days, and I was very much alone.
ness itself seemed filled with more presence ofGod. One night, I decided to take a walk
subtle paths to be followed. I could down to the marsh. The temperature
easily lie on the couch for hours, just was ten below zero, and even wearing
gazing at everything: the swirls in the layers of long underwear, socks,
plaster ceiling; the slow breathing and sweaters, and a hooded coat, I knew I
quick, flickering dreams of the sleep- could not stay outside for long. But I
ing cat; the shape of words on a page bundled myself up anyway, damped
in a book; the intricacies of my own down the stove, and stepped out into
hands. I could sit outside with my eyes the cold.
closed and listen with perfect attention Though there was no moon, bil-
to a neighbor pruning shrubs. I would lions of tiny, barely glittering stars
struggle, slowly and quietly, with the gave the whole landscape a stark, som-
challenge ofeating a halfcup of apple- ber sheen. A little wind sent the pow-
sauce one tiny, painful swallow at a dery surface of the snow blowing and
time, and could find great satisfaction hissing around the bases of the dark
in summoning the strength to wash the trees and around my legs as I made my
dishes or fold a pile of warm, clean way through the woods and out onto
laundry. Each full moment of each day the wide, white marsh. The sky was
was a new landmark, each contact with Certain features of this experience everywhere, with stars as numerous as
a person I loved, each small thing I seemed familiar, reminding me of past the crystals of blown snow. The winds
learned or felt or comprehended: these occasions when I’d been lost and then spread and scattered and spun those
were the points of reference I placed had found my way, but finally a life- crystals in the emptiness of the open
before myself as a kind of map. From threatening and life-changing illness snowfield. I stood on the edge ofit and
these disparate but recognizable fea- could not really be compared to my looked as long as I could stand the
tures, something more complete earlier adventures within the safe, cold, breathing the beautiful, deep
emerged: a pattern among them, a path comfortable confines of the Audubon clarity of those gentle, icy winds. And
through them, a leading. sanctuary. With cancer, my common then I turned back. But the woods
For me, this leading came as a deep sense and intuition did not lead di- seemed very dark after the bright
certainty that life was meaningful, re- rectly to the right path, they only breadth of the marsh. And each shad-
gardless of its worldly purposes. helped me to trust the process as I owy gap between trees looked exactly
Though none of my own intentional wandered further and further into the like any other. Which was the mouth
goals in life could be actively pursued, unknown. It’s difficult to make an of the trail?
a sense of meaning and direction per- analogy between this and a literal ex- I chose an opening and entered, but
vaded everything that was happening. perience of losing the way and finding the trail became uncertain almost im-
And though I could see no sure future it again. But on one occasion, when I mediately. I kept on walking. I kept
beyond this present experience of ill- was in my mid-twenties, I did become imagining I was on a good path and
(“Being Led,” continuedonpage52
—
Page 51 Friends Bulletin December 1998
(“Being Led,” continuedfrompage 51) hear the stars, a faint hissing—like the ments and decisions all the time. When
then losing it and finding it and losing sound of hot coals in a stove or was I was sick, being lost was effortless
it again and again, zigzagging between it only powdered snow blowing across and natural, but now it requires a little
trees in the half-dark, my boots the crust? I felt quiet, cold, but no work, a conscious relaxing of my need
crunching on the hard-packed snow longer afraid. to get where I am going by a particular
and leaving no visible footprints. In fact, I seemed to recognize this route in a particular way. Stepping off
Perhaps an hour had passed since place, this condition. I understood that the trail is actually more frightening
I’d left the cabin, perhaps more. My I would die someday, and whenever it than it used to be, because now I know
toes had been aching with cold for happened it would be like this: in how utterly lost I can get, how faint my
some time, but now I could not feel readiness, in openness, as I was lov- everyday trails can seem in the midst
—
them. A stinging numbness stiffened ingly led. This was a state of sheer of this incredible wilderness yet I
my face and there were ice crystals in prayer, without thought or need. When still choose to stray into unfamiliar
my nose and the corners of my eyes. we know that we are entirely lost, our places, to lose myself a little whenever
Soon, I noticed that the denser woods ability to act and ask can be sus- I can, because I also know that when I
had given way to a stand of young al- pended, and we can discover our ca- have lost all direction, finally, all di-
der. Wrist-thick saplings the color of pacity to wait, to experience a true rections will open. And in that open-
frosty iron stood about an arms-span leading. I opened my eyes and looked ness, I will be led.
apart, surrounding me as far as I could up at the unimaginable depth of sky.
see in any direction. I knew where I There was a thread of soft gray against Kirsten Backstrom works as a writer,
was now, but knowing was no help. the brightness and the blackness above and her essays and short stories have
This alder thicket went on for many me: it was smoke from the cabin chim- been published in a variety of literary
miles down the valley, beginning fairly ney. Following that thread, I was soon journals. For the past several years,
near our cabin and following the edge home. one of her central concerns has been
of the marsh all the way to a distant, As my cancer is now in remission. to explore (in writing, and in life)
frozen river among hills. I might be I’ve begun to follow some of my regu- spiritual questions related to death
close to home now, but if I chose the lar trails again: I make plans, commit- and dying.
wrong direction from here, I would
freeze to death before I found shelter. I
squatted down and tried to orient my-
self by plotting a map in the snow, but
Western Sister Fellowship
I was frightened and I knew that my
usual methods would not work this of Quakers in the Arts
time. I already had some of the symp- M
toms of hypothermia: the shiver at my
omentum is gathering to create a support community of Friends who
core, the inability to think clearly. —
There was no room for experimenta- make art actors/performers, authors, cartoonists, composers/
musicians, dancers, fiber artists, film makers, painters, photographers, poets/
tion. If I chose a direction and walked
fast to warm myself, I might be all playwrights, potters, printmakers, sculptors, singers, weavers.
By writing FQA, PO Box 58565, Philadelphia, PA 19102 or e-mail:
right....But walking wouldn’t warm
[email protected], you receive an informative brochure and for $15
me enough, and the further I went the
(recommended amount) tax deductible, you can be included in the next na-
more lost I could become. tional FQA Directory, and will get a quarterlyjournal Types & SHADOWS.
Knowing that I was in serious trou- By contacting Marybeth Webster (PYM), PO Box 2843, Grass Valley, CA
ble, I did the only thing that I could do:
95945 or calling [phone], you will be placed on the Western mailing
I stood still, breathing and waiting.
list, and for a donation of$3 or so, will receive the roster and announcements
Many years later, when I found out PYM
and/or minutes of gatherings at Quarterly and Yearly Meetings. Please
that I had cancer, I did exactly the include a brief bio with media used, plus ideas for a western FQA. We en-
same thing. My one clear leading said,
courage forming Monthly, Quarterly, and Yearly Meeting committees, proj-
“When there is nothing to be done, do
ects, or informal support groups in your area, and then telling us about your
nothing. Wait.” I stood there and did
work.
not think about the trouble I was in. I
closed my eyes and listened to the soft Next MONTH: “The TRUTH WILL out!” Marybeth’s follow-up
ticking and crackling of dry snow get-
article in which she addresses the question: “How does being a Quaker im-
ting slowly colder and drier as the
pact your art making? And how would an association of Friends in the Arts
night’s temperature dropped. Over-
usuupport you, your work, your spirit...” Please feel free to respond to these
head, I heard the bare alder branches V qquvestions c/o the editor of Friends Bulletin.
rattling a little. I thought I could even
—
Friends Bulletin December 1998 Page 52
—
Our
er in Midst?
Keynote Address by
Marty Grundy,
Intermountain Yearly Meeting 1998
[This article contains the beginning
and end of a much longer talk. The
full te—xt is available at www.quaker.
org/fb Editor.]
T
here is a well-known Quaker
painting of a meeting for worship.
Friends are seated, wearing their plain
clothes, heads bowed. Rising in the
center of the room is a spectral Christ
figure. The painting is titled, “The
Presence in the Midst” and it refers to
the verse in Matthew 18:20, “For
where two or three are gathered
together in my name, there am I in the
midst ofthem.”
Historically, Friends were the ones
that radically tested that statement.
They tested it, and they found that it
was true. The Christ, Lo—gos, Spirit, “The Real Presence" byAileen Jacobs (above) based on J. Doyle Penrose’s “Presence in
God, Truth, Divine Love the reality the Midst, ” is available through Quake,r Heritage Showcase (seep. 66).
was that when they gathered together
in that “name,” trusting that reality, because these were politically correct identified its desire to extend
there was a Presence, a reality that was ideas but because Christ taught them, hospitality through the sanctuary
more powerful, more convicting, more as a people, that this behavior movement, or working today with
loving, than any of them experienced demonstrates to the larger world how undocumented workers, as identical
separately. It was such that when a God’s family behaves. with the Biblical or Christian
stranger entered he could feel the good But now I’ve been asked to talk experience of hospitality? What would
IMYM
in himself raised up and the self- about “who is that Stranger in our happen if named the author of
serving parts weakened. midst?” Perhaps you expected me to its work as the Spirit of Christ? Could
The reality of the power of the speak about the strangers in the midst we acknowledge that the Stranger in
Inward Spirit of Christ was the of our wider society, those strangers our worshipping midst might be the
energizing, formative experience out without legal documents, or without one who is leading us to reach out to
of which was created the Religious adequate employment, food, or help the strangers in the midst of our
Society of Friends. Friends sat in housing, strangers who do not look or larger community?
silence without any program because talk like us. These people and Jesus Who is this Stranger in our midst? I
they expected Christ to direct the have some things in common, want to look more carefully at this
worship and vocal ministry, to bring beginning with no place to lay their invisible Stranger. Sometimes we seem
them into communion with God as a heads; they are an embarrassment to to forget that there is Someone who
united group. Friends had their the establishment. IMYM Friends feel directs our worship, who inspires and
peculiar method of decision making a strong inward desire to extend draws forth vocal ministry, so that
and church governance because they hospitality and assistance to the “least talking in meeting might be more than
expected Christ to teach them what of these” people for whom God seems a form of therapy, a book review,
decisions to make in order to be to have a preference. announcement, or discussion of
obedient to God’s will. Friends had Early Friends would have current events. Sometimes we seem to
some counter-cultural testimonies such immediately identified the inward forget that our meetings for business
as non-participation in violence with impulse to love and help other humans are not exercises in secular consensus
outward weapons, refusal to subscribe as prompted by the Inward Christ building, finding the lowest common
to a two-tiered standard of honesty by even if the benefactor did not know denominator which we will all be
swearing an oath to tell the truth this anything about Jesus of Nazareth. willing to accept. Sometimes we seem
particular time in court, and so on, not What would happen if IMYM (“Stranger in OurMidst,“ continuedonp. 54)
—
Page 53 Friends Bulletin December 1998