Not too long after becoming a Quaker, I remember hearing an inspiring story. I was told that there was once a Friends Meeting that had at once been a vibrant community. The meetinghouse was built to hold several hundred people, and at some point – perhaps a hundred years ago – it had been filled to overflowing.
But times changed. For a variety of reasons, the community shrank dramatically, and by the turn of this century, there were only a few elderly members left. Finally, even these last few members died or moved away to retirement communities, leaving only a single old man as an active member!
Not so inspiring, huh? But wait – there’s more! While most people would have given up and found somewhere else to worship, the last remaining member of this Meeting made a different choice. Rather than joining some other community, he just kept on attending, all by himself. Each week, he drove down to the meetinghouse, opened up the doors and sat for an hour of silent worship. Alone.
Here’s the inspiring part: After a while, things began to change. Week after week, the last elderly member of this Friends Meeting sat alone on the facing bench, holding a silent vigil, but one Sunday morning, a young family arrived. They appreciated the hour of silence, a respite from their busy lives. To the old man’s surprise, the family came back the next week. And the next. Somehow the word seemed to get out about this little meetinghouse and its unique style of silent worship. Soon, there were several families and individuals attending.
The triumphant conclusion of the story, as I remember it, is this: Today, the meeting has thirty or forty attenders, and is an active part of the Yearly Meeting.
I don’t know how this story strikes you, but when it was first told to me, I found it encouraging. All around me, I saw Quaker churches dwindling down to fewer than a dozen participants, low on energy, enthusiasm and hope. But that did not have to be the end! This story taught me that one faithful person, resolute in trust and commitment, could hold the space and encourage the restoration of the community.
This story especially encouraged me because it fit into the narrative that I was already learning as a new Quaker. The idea of the Religious Society of Friends as being a faithful remnant is widespread, especially among the more traditionalist Friends that I was running with. In the faithful remnant conception, our job is to remain true to the tradition, even if it means apparent decline. If our communities are struggling, it must be a problem with our faith – or, more likely, with the world! – certainly not with our traditions.
I have heard the story of the old man and the meetinghouse on several occasions, in slightly different forms, and I have come to wonder to what extent this story is based in fact. Does it simply reflect the collective wish-fulfillment of an entire extended community that has not experienced real growth in centuries? Whether or not it is based in fact, I am increasingly convinced that this story is a false one, and that the remnant theory is holding us back from the becoming the people that God is calling us to be.
The reality is, for every church that experiences revival after dwindling down to a handful of members, many more congregations simply die off. I watched this happen before my eyes during the three years I lived in Indiana. Friends churches were dropping like flies in the summer heat. Across the developed world, most of our congregations are caught in a death-spiral of declining participation and a sense of stuck-ness that we seem unable to pull ourselves out of.
In times like these, one stubborn old man opening up the meetinghouse is the last thing we need! Even less do we need fading communities of entrenched Quakers who value the imagined glories of ancient Quakerism more than the new and living opportunities that God is calling us to in this very moment.
To be clear, I am not equating numerical growth with faithfulness. The size of our communities will vary, and some communities are undoubtedly intended to be smaller than others. But no one I know believes that most of our Quaker communities today are in a healthy place. We could become small and fruitful – but God does indeed expect us to bear fruit!
I do not say any of this out of disdain for the many thousands who are stuck in this place; I am, myself, a recovering stubborn Quaker. What I needed – and what I believe many of us still need – is a wake-up call. Our dogged commitment to the old forms and specialized vocabularies of sectarian Quakerism is not serving us well – and it serves our neighbors even less.
Our world is crying out for us to emerge from the meetinghouse and engage with our towns and cities as they are, not as we wish they were. If we are to be disciples of Jesus – imitating his love, grace and truth – we have to go where the people are, especially those people who are least likely to feel welcomed by our pious forms and churchy words.
How do we change the story? What if we imagine instead that the old man shuts the doors of the meetinghouse and goes to join a neighboring church that is engaged in ministry to the poor? Or maybe he doesn’t leave at all – but he starts reaching out to his neighbors proactively, seeing what the real needs are in his community. Perhaps the Quaker Meeting becomes something very different than he ever imagined it could be.
There are probably hundreds of alternative scenarios in which the lone member of this imaginary Friends Meeting goes out into the world to bless others and make disciples. All of these scenarios require radical change on the part of this last Quaker standing. And this is good news.
I told a Friend that I spent last weekend with a Quaker group and he said I that the last one of them died a few years ago.
Must have us confused with the Shakers. Though I hear there are still a few of them alive and kicking. 馃檪
nope, we’re still here
Heritage. We are the current stewards of a Truth that goes back to within a few generations of Jesus. If we engage that heritage it will lead us into new life, much joy, and new activity. Tradition is the relic of past faithfulness. Our heritage is – Behold, I make all things new.
What in particular do you think we are stewards of, and how can we share it more widely?
Living faithfully in our day, guided by queries that open us to new possibilities, and Friends who help us discern what faithfulness requires. Jesus as the one who calls us into a fellowship of Truth, Love, and Humility, as the one who loves us beyond all of our anger, pride, pain and regret, who enables us to live as he would have us live. Worshiping in Spirit and Truth. The days of our lives are a gift from our Creator; the least we can do is spend some time quietly with our God reviewing how we have used this gift and seeking guidance of what we should do after the worship. How else should those who believe in a Living God conduct their affairs?
Sharing: pamphlets, Youtube (etc.), public events – soup & bread for all (contributions accepted); Presenting the Gospels of Mark and John; Open meetings to consider challenges in the surrounding community with Friends present to provide christian suggestions without theological or biblical baggage. Holding meetings for worship as often as possible.
We received the Gospel before there were creeds and made the Bible available to the common reader when doing so was heresy. We know the Bible to have been written by people like us, that the internal contradictions are there on purpose – to lead us to deeper, living, Truth; and that it should be read in the spirit in which it was written. We also know that the Spirit falls on all as the rain and the sun.
Sharing: Pray and follow. Part of receiving is needing to share as the Giver directs and enables.
Many times in my monthly, quarterly and yearly meetings I am the only remnant of color. The issue for me is not about the number of people of color in our Quaker Meetings . But the diverse experiences and richness of the holy who dwells in all people .That is missing in our homogeneous Quaker Meetings. Particularly in regards to class and race.
Can you imagine if our Quaker Meetings were 99% men?
For me personally being the only remnant of color in Quaker settings leaves is a challenge: We must integrate without compromising ourselves or our beliefs. So the holy in us can live, breathe and reveal new revelation. We must constantly filter our experiences, screening for racism in each moment, as we try to be faithful to the truth given to us. I don’t have any easy answer. But many questions.
Micah, great post. I often feel this way when I get dragged into committee work that I feel is unnecessary. My meeting (which is thriving, fortunately) has many committees that I feel are just not necessary–including the one I’m now clerking because no one felt led to clerk it for more than a year (communications). Whenever someone, after meeting, makes an announcement about inviting new attenders/members to join committees because “that is the life of the meeting” or “how to get involved with our meeting” I cringe. Churches that have actual ministries that are outward facing seem to make more sense, even to me. I can’t imagine as a new attender who didn’t already know about Quaker committee structure finding the prospect of sitting on the dang communications committee appealing as compared to, say, helping out with a soup kitchen or a homeless shelter or a river cleanup. I’m pretty dug in as a Quaker so I’m not going anywhere, but I wish that we could just lay down some of our committees–they suck up time and energy on unneeded projects (it doesn’t take 7 people meeting monthly to put together a piece of paper with announcements on it that no one reads anyway) but Friends are so reluctant to consider NOT doing these things. rant
Thanks for this, Julie. Quakers seem to have a sick love affair with committee structures, and I think that moving into a greater diversity of constructive models for decision-making and leadership has to be a priority for Friends moving into the 21st century.
As clerk of communications, can you lay the committee down? 馃槈
believe me, i’m considering it 馃檪
I’m sorry I’m late catching up with this post, because I want to offer testimony that the story is true. The meeting is Saratoga in New York Yearly Meeting. And the man was Milford Lester. (Here’s a photo of him from his non-Quaker activities )
I knew Milford from working with him on NYYM committees. He was quiet, solid, and thoughtful. I’m not sure how long it was that he drove to Saratoga, opened the meetinghouse, and sat there for an hour alone. I do remember asking him about it, and he answered that he had no great vision of reviving the meeting. He simply wanted to sit in worship for an hour on Sunday and the meetinghouse seemed like a sensible place to do it. Also, he wanted to check the place to make sure all had stayed secure during the week. (You get a sense of the man in that answer.)
As much as I’d like to think that Milford’s faithfulness was rewarded with renewal, I’m not sure I can fully embrace that interpretation. My sense is that the demographics around the meetinghouse changed. The economy allowed for New York City and Albany residents to once again buy weekend and summer homes on Lake George after a slump, and the arrival of one or two families turned it around.
Milford died in 2006.
Very interesting, Carol. Thank you!
Hm. Nice to know that’s not just a legend. But, however demographics changed, if the meeting house had been closed and sold off, it would not have been there for the new people.
Whether supporting a meeting house is the best use of our time and money is another question.