A message offered in worship at the opening celebration of the 360th Annual Sessions of New England Yearly Meeting of Friends
Welcome, Friends. I’m so glad that you’re here.
A Friend once told me that there is only one meeting for worship. We gather there in eternity. It is available to all who open their hearts. We emerge from it in birth; we will return to it in death. In every moment, it is closer than breath to us. And across the miles, we are participating in it now.
This communion transcends space. It transcends time. Those who came before us join us here. Our ancestors—all of them, from so many cultures, peoples, and traditions—are with us here, in their wrongs and their seeking to be faithful, their grief and their joy, their shortsightedness and their wisdom.
For each of us gathered here who call ourselves Friends, among these spiritual ancestors we share are the first people who claimed that name, part of a generation who first gathered three hundred and sixty years ago for what would become New England Yearly Meeting of Friends. And I believe that as we enter this time together this week, those Friends have an invitation to share with us—an invitation about living faithfully in the midst of change.
Can I tell you a story?
Amidst so many voices and visions for how a world more aligned with God’s dream for us could be born, in those days there were some people who yearned for change. Together, they rediscovered something hidden in plain sight since the foundation of the world, discovered by many in many ages—a tender, humble, world-transforming power, waiting within every heart. And as they came to recognize it, and yielded to it, and sought to live trusting that power, they were transformed, coming to live lives that were, when they were faithful, clearer channels of Love and Truth for—and with—those around them.
These first Friends found that there were three essential movements to this process, three moments in this journey of inward and outward transformation that we’re called to participate in again and again. In the language of their time, they named these movements: conviction, convincement, and conversion. For many of us, these words might be heard in the context of their use in support of oppression, religious abuse, or colonialism. But just as the first Friends understood themselves to be reclaiming the heart of Christianity from the distortions of empire, I invite you, if you’re willing, to engage with these words—and the powerful testimony these Friends sought to describe—in the Spirit in which our spiritual ancestors used them. I’ll use some different words to describe the Truth I believe they might hope to share with us.
These Friends testify to their discovery that the first movement we experience, each time this process of transformation begins in us again, is the revealing of where our lives are not in alignment with the dream God has for us. We are brought to the at-times-shattering recognition of the distance between our inward and outward condition and the liberation and joy for which we were born.
Some of us might experience this movement of revealing as being shown the impact of our own choices, of ways we have been living that separate us from one another, and from God. We’re given a glimpse into how we have participated in the oppression of ourselves, and of one another, and so of the seed of God in every one.
Because our journeys and experiences in this world are different, some of us may experience a different kind of revealing. What’s good for one is not necessarily good for all. Rather than being shown the places we have fallen short, some of us might be brought to a renewed assurance of the Truth that we and each of our fellow beings are infinitely beloved in the regard of the Living Spirit. From this anchoring place of deep clarity in our belovedness, the systems and structures of oppression are unmasked; the powers of this world that seek to silence that Truth of belovedness, in us and in others, are laid bare.
In these moments of revealing, it helps to name, to ourselves and to those we trust, what we see. Because when we can testify to the Truth that’s been revealed to us, we can help each other to live as if it’s True.
Are you experiencing a moment of revealing like this? Who might you share it with?
The next movement is surrender. It’s about giving over—not giving up. It’s about releasing our ego’s grip on our lives and opening our hearts in trust to a power far greater than ourselves. In this moment, we’re invited to give up trying to save the world through our own rage and grief and frantic action. Instead, we begin to participate with intention and freedom in the healing of Creation that is already underway in every moment.
In moments like this, we can take refuge in the stories and the examples of others who we have surrendered in this same way. We can share the testimony we carry of how releasing our fear and attempts to control has led to fuller and more fruitful living in the Light.
The third movement in the dance our spiritual ancestors invite us to is about turning. It’s about putting into practice, with yielded hearts, the invitation to turn toward Love again and again in the daily actions of our living, in each aspect of our lives, our relationships, and our work.
Only we can choose to be faithful. But in these moments, we can encourage one another. We can remind each other of our shared commitment to what’s been revealed to us and to the surrender we’ve made.
So our spiritual ancestors invite us to participate in three movements: a movement of revealing where it helps to name what see, a movement of surrender where we need the testimony of others about how letting go has led to freedom; and a movement of turning where the work of faithfulness belongs to each of us, but we can—and must—encourage one another.
Supporting one another in how we respond to this Invitation, our spiritual ancestors might say, is the essential purpose of the Quaker Movement. It is the purpose for which New England Yearly Meeting was gathered three hundred and sixty years ago. And—if we accept the Invitation—it is the purpose for which we gather now.
In our meetings for discernment together this week, we will be offered several opportunities to name how the Truth is being revealed to us. Those of us participating in home groups will have a particular opportunity to reflect in some way on the work of these movements in our own lives. Those of us not participating in home groups can do it too with a trusted Friend, or in our home faith communities where this work can take root and be sustained. In our memorial meeting, we will have the opportunity to reflect together on the testimony of the surrendered lives lived by those who came before us. I know this invitation will be present in our plenary time and in the bible half hours. And the practice of Naming and Noticing Patterns of Oppression and Faithfulness that we are experimenting with this week will offer us many opportunities to encounter each of these movements within ourselves, and in our common life.
So again, I want to welcome you. And yet, I know that we are coming with so many different conditions, inwardly and outwardly. We’re arriving here with so many distinct hopes and burdens and gifts to share. I can’t pretend to speak to all of our conditions.
But I believe—because I have tasted it—that there is a Spirit who can. And this is the Spirit who welcomes you here today, Friends, even if—and when—we fall short of offering the grace of that welcome to one another.
If you are in a moment of revealing, the Spirit says “welcome.”
If you are in a moment of surrender, the Holy One says, “welcome."
If you are in a moment of turning, the Divine Presence says, “welcome."
Whatever your condition, the Life beyond all naming welcomes you to the Invitation.
It’s good to be together.