Therefore, since we are receiving a
kingdom that cannot be shaken, let us give thanks, by which we offer
to God an acceptable worship with reverence and awe; for indeed our
God is a consuming fire. -
Hebrews 12:28-29
In
retrospect, I should not have been surprised that the image of a
torched meetinghouse upset some members of my online community.
Despite our insistence to the contrary, we Quakers are just as
attached to our "stuff" - buildings, rituals, procedures and endowments - as any other religious group. This is
not necessarily a bad thing. An
important function of religion is to provide a stable community where
we can grow deeper in the knowledge and practice of the love of God.
That function would not be served by constantly calling every aspect
of the community's life into question. Stability
and unity within the Church are helpful.
All
too often, however, stability gives way to hardness of heart, and unity
degenerates into group-think. In our desire to maintain a
conflict-free community, we may come to value conformity over
prophetic witness. Our tendency can be to freeze the community at a
particular point in time - whether past or future - and to seek to
maintain that "perfect" moment indefinitely. But a living,
breathing community cannot be perfect in this sense. True life is
found in dynamic tension. Living
communities change and grow; they reproduce themselves in a diverse
array of shapes and sizes, suited to their own times and places.
Life
depends on a vibrant dynamic between stability and change, the new and the old, creation and destruction. Neither a constant turmoil,
nor frozen "perfection" present fertile soil for the work
of the Spirit. How do we
balance the need for corporate unity with God's call to radical
faithfulness? How can we
embrace the God-given stability that we need for our community to
thrive while remaining open to new teaching from Christ?
Such
questions are too complex and contextual for me to give firm answers
here. These are questions for us to live into as a body. That being
said, I do believe there
are steps we can take to encourage the stable flexibility that our
communities need if they are to be places where we grow together in
maturity and love. One
of these steps is to consider the generational dynamics that are at
play in our religious society.
I
write from my perspective as a 29-year-old man - a Millennial
- who is pretty close to aging out of the "young adult"
category. I speak out of
almost a decade of experience of being a twentysomething among
Friends - first as a
seeker; then as a new member of a small Quaker Meeting in Kansas;
later as a seminarian at ESR; and finally as a Friend doing ministry
in the wider world.
I have watched for years as so many in my generation have fallen away
from Quakerism, sometimes
to join another religious community, but usually drifting into the wider, secular culture. I
carry a concern for these younger Friends who have not found a place
within their religious community, and I have opinions about how we
might change to become more relevant to our present context.
Yet,
when I participate my Yearly Meeting, or other Quaker groups, my
peers are nowhere to be found. I am surrounded by people who are
decades older than me, with very different life experiences,
assumptions and worldviews. I am too young to clearly remember when the
Berlin wall came down, yet most of my brothers and sisters in the
Quaker community had their worldviews shaped in the context of the
Civil Rights Movement and the Vietnam War! I
love my older Friends, and I lean on a number of them for eldership,
support and counsel. But, over time, it can also be alienating to be
a part of a community where my different life experience is often
unrecognized.
So,
I apologize for anything
I have written or said that has made my older Friends feel attacked
or devalued. While at times I may say some things that feel like
insults to our older members,
I hope you will hear where my concern really lies: not
in tearing down older Friends, but in lifting up the particular
gifts, experience and concerns of younger Quakers. How
can our religious community value and empower the gifts and
ministries of younger Friends? How can all of us come together in the
Truth?
Our God is indeed a consuming fire, and all of us - young and old - have dross to be melted away as we wait in that refining Presence. How must we change so that we can wait together as a body, receiving the teaching of the Holy Spirit? If all our forms and structures and buildings and finances are tools that God has given us for blessing the world, what does it look like for us to faithfully exercise those tools, those gifts? And how do we avoid making the tools and gifts our focus, rather than God? How can we live into these questions together, as an intergenerational community?
