World Peace (1957)

From World Peace, by Swami Sivananda, publ. 1957:

Only removal of ignorance can stop all future wars and dissensions. Spiritual culture, ethical education, measures that are best calculated to instill love and a sense of unity in men and women can prevent nations from resorting to war.  If all people begin to practice kindness and mercy, how can they at the same time stand with weapons and guns in their hands to destroy each other? Individual peace alone can lead to the establishment of universal peace. May there be peace, plenty and prosperity throughout the whole world! May all nations be united by the bond of love!

Who is “Christian?” What is “Mystical?”

A discussion among Quakers about de-emphasizing the Christian foundation of the Religious Society of Friends (Quakers),  and its Christian principles got me thinking about the definition of  “Christian.”  People shy away from the word because of  the negative and repressive connotations connected with fringe elements.  Fundmentalists,  Evangelicals and similar sects have hijacked the word and given it a narrow, often angry and aggressive, generally hateful meaning; they have made Christianity repugnant to many people.

The discussion about Christianity has been going on in Quaker circles here in England for years.  In the last revision of  Faith and Practice (the book of queries and testimonies) pretty much all the references to Christianity were removed. When I first went to Strawberry Creek Meeting in Berkeley, the meeting described itself as Christ-centered rather than Christian.

Friends accept anyone into meeting for worship, and woe betide any meeting that offends the one single Bah’ai or atheist who might wander in one day. The issue is serious; that is, that Friends in general do not believe there is one exclusive path to God, and so do not judge other religions. But it is carried to silly extremes lately.

My definition of Chrisitian is pretty simple and broad: A Christian is someone who reveres Jesus Christ as a teacher or leader, someone whose life is an example to follow. Doctrines such as redemption, sin and all the rest are not so important to me as the principles Jesus taught. If you follow Jesus’s example, you’re a Christian– living the teachings, not just believing them.

That’s part 1. Part 2 is, I love all the Jesus stories. They are whacking good yarns, in my book. Raising people from the dead, walking on water, making wine from water, accepting people as they are (i.e tax collectors and whores, etc.) — all of those are great stories, every bit as good as anything the Grimms or Anderson or Lewis came up with. Plus, in my view, it doesn’t matter whether he was “truly the Son of God” or not. If we do nothing more than follow his example we’re making an effort. As it happens, I do believe in his divinity. Whether he was more divine than Krishna or Buddha is another question, and, again, I don’t think it matters.

Oddly enough, the Christian mystics I know about are the Catholic ones, especially Theresa of Avila, who apparently had orgasmic experiences of Jesus (although we won’t find that word in any of the stories of her). I’ve always been fascinated that descriptions of Christian mystical experience so often sound like sex as described in borderline pornographic novels. Is it the Catholic Church’s  preoccupations with sex and masochism? Is it all in their heads? Is it truly a physical manifestation of the Holy Spirit entering their bodies? Is it delusional– and if it’s all delusions, are they the result of fasting or lack of sleep or other explainable reasons?

More seriously, mystical experiences are by definition unique and personal. No two people experience God in the same way. We are all imperfect humans, and we bring to any experience of God all the intellectual and emotional baggage we carry, no matter how genuine our intentions. Being open to being taken over by God is a pretty big order. Quaker meeting started the process for me; Tantra moved it forward very, very fast. Being able to surrender completely, even if only for a few seconds at a time, is an incredible grace. And the more you can do it, the more exciting and wondrous it becomes.

Have you seen Scorcese’s Jesus movie– The Last Temptation of Christ– the one with Willem Dafoe as Jesus and Harvey Keitel as Judas? It’s my favourite of all of the Jesus movies. Dafoe plays Jesus as a real man, with doubts and needs and secrets, not as a perfect godlike creature. I mean, he obviously likes women (which none of the other Jesus actors seemed to do). And the relationship between Judas and Jesus is close and loving (and interpreted by some hopefuls as homosexual, but I don’t see it). The apostles are very real too, bickering among themselves, all trying to impress Jesus. To me, showing these “holy” people as human, with the fears,  needs and quirks we all have, makes them MORE holy, not less. They were able to overcome those things and follow this guy for three years. That’s a big sacrifice if you were making money, sleeping with women and living a life before he turned up.

For me, that is the point: the mystical takes you out of the physical world and into the inexplicable, but even more real, world of pure spirit. Even if we  have it only for a few seconds, or once or twice in a lifetime, what a gift! That some of us manage to have these experiences at length or repeatedly, then actually to communicate them in human language, and to have people hear and understand and follow— well, that’s a great grace.

Quakerly Christmas

©2008, Ramona K. Silipo. All rights reserved.

Friends (Quakers) have a testimony against holding special days (holidays), presumably based on the concept that each day is a blessing and that we should have one standard of behaviour for every day of the year. This means that many Friends do not celebrate holidays such as Easter, Christmas and Thanksgiving (USA and Canada). However, many Friends do celebrate, albeit modestly in most cases. My home meeting in California, for instance, has a Christmas event presented by the children, followed by a pot luck meal. This year, there is carol singing each First Day for those who want to join in. And so on. As with all the testimonies, it is left to each person to discern what, if any, recognition of Christmas to express.

My experience, both before and after becoming a Friend, is that nothing in my personal or family Christmas traditions seems antithetical to living as a Quaker. As a matter of fact, I find that at Christmas time many people are more alert and open to answer that of God in everyone; and people are often more aware of their need to be generous, forgiving and patient with others. I see nothing negative in setting aside a specific time of day or year to stop and consider how one’s life might be more enlightened and enlightening.

My personal and family traditions are pretty simple: a nativity set from my childhood with candles lit each night, a tree decorated with homemade ornaments and old glass ones as well, inviting people with no family or friends in the area for dinner, and a Christmas Eve with closest friends at which we eat soup and bread for dinner, read Christmas stories and light candles to remember friends who have died during the year. (This began during the early years of the AIDS epidemic, when we lost several friends each year. We’d stand around the table, all too aware that one or two of us would probably not be there the next Christmas. Thank God, we haven’t had to light any candles  for many years now.)

Reading to each other and the children is a lovely bonding activity. Story telling is as ingrained in human history as music, and the stories of Christmas are always a joy to me. Stories are usually more symbolic than literal, so I don’t see that Christmas stories in the form of carols are a threat to good Quaker order in any way

For me, the joys in life are simple– friends, family, dogs (or other pets), good times, talking, laughing, music, theatre, art– nothing spectacular. At Christmas many of these joys are magnified and appreciated more. We all strive for the Quaker ideal of living in the Light every day, but, so far, I’ve not met anyone who’s achieved this ideal. Until we do, it seems not only appropriate but very positive to set aside times, like Christmas, to remember our best moments in life, reinforce long-cherished relationships, and create new opportunities to move forward toward the Light every day.

Ritual Among Friends (Quakers)

©2008, Ramona K. Silipo. All rights reserved.

The query for our day retreat was, “Other religious traditions use rituals to help align their lives with the Light. What helps us open our lives to the Light and realize our visions?”

The basic assumption inherent in this query is that there are no rituals among Quakers. Among the group I was in for Quaker dialogue, there was a further, somewhat disturbing, assumption that all ritual is empty.

The idea that there are no rituals among Friends is interesting.  The central ritual for the Christian world, the celebration of Mass or traditional communion service, is, at its core, a meal. From my observation, the principal ceremony to mark Quaker milestones is a meal: baby and new member welcoming, newcomers’ brunch, graduation, friendly sevens  — all revolve around a table where Friends are gathered to share food. These are not very complex events, but nevertheless are a ritual in their regularity and simplicity.

The truth is, we need ritual in our lives, and if we don’t have any, we create it. I have my personal ritual for Meeting for Worship, and have no doubt that others do, too. I have, in fact, observed people’s personal rituals as they arrive at Meeting and find it both comforting and slightly amusing that a body that so definitively eschews ritual comprises so many people with very specific small rituals.

Neither for me nor, presumably, for my fellow Friends in Meeting, are our small routine activities empty rituals. They give structure to worship, mark a beginning and an ending to the formal meeting period. It is strangely naive, while also condescending, to assume that all ritual is empty. Certainly a great deal, perhaps even most, of religious ritual has arrived at emptiness after a couple of thousand years. And there is no doubt that the ritual George Fox rebelled against was empty. The ritual itself had replaced the sanctity of the real events it was meant to represent.

However, ritual is valuable if we observe it as a remembrance, or symbol, or representation, of its original meaning. The meal I mentioned earlier was, of course, the Passover meal at which Christ used the bread and wine to speak of the feeding of the Spirit of humankind by the Spirit of God (or the Light, the Absolute, Jehovah, Allah, or any other name you prefer). Christian services, both Catholic and Protestant, throughout history, have maintained the ritualistic meal as the center of their worship.

As a former Catholic, what I miss most are the rituals around candles, which are used in various ceremonies and to indicate specific periods in the liturgical calendar, for those who keep up with those things. The lighting of a candle “‘with an intention,” that is, with your own or someone else’s special need, was a simple ritual that always had meaning for me. The dancing flame was a reminder of the Light, and of the fact that we could be bringers of Light, too, if we live by the Light.

Friends talk about the Inner Light, which we experience not only in Meeting for Worship, but also in our daily lives, if we open ourselves to it. Sometimes, however, an outward symbol is a powerful reminder to others of our commitment to a particular way of life. When I was growing up, the consecrated Eucharist was left in the tabernacle after mass. (It is rarely done these days because of the increasing frequency of theft and vandalism in churches.)  To Catholics, the Eucharist is literally the Body of Christ, changed from bread and wine during the mass. The altar light, never extinguished, was a constant, warmly glowing reminder of Christ’s presence– a symbol so literal even a child grasped it and was awed by the fact of His being there on the altar and inside us at the same time. Jesus, as the Light of the World, was a concept I grasped early.

From conversations with fellow members and attenders of my meeting, I know that many of us have additional spiritual activities that compliment and enhance our worship experience in meeting. Most of these activities center on some form of ritual , whether it is meeting for old-time nature religion holidays, or attending a rousing Gospel service, or gathering with others in a prayer circle, support group or yoga class.

What helps us open up to the Light? Our own rituals, whether simple or complex. In each of our lives, we have created rituals meaningful to us to replace those which long ago lost their meaning.

A Quaker Retreat Weekend

©2008, Ramona K. Silipo. All rights reserved.

One of the qualities of Friends that attracted me was spontaneity.  Another was the all-encompassing participatory nature of Quaker activities. It took me much of this weekend to realize that this was the reason I was so uncomfortable at the retreat; but I finally recognized that I was peculiarly disoriented because everything was completely staged. Speakers were appointed in advance and there was virtually no time for communal worship or quiet reflection at the beginning or end of the sessions. Everything seemed regulated and orchestrated to me.

I’ve been a Quaker in name for only eighteen years. That’s longer than many others I’ve met, but nothing compared to a lifetime of Quaker experience. I’ve been a member of only one unprogrammed meeting, and visited others. So I write with limited experience, but I’m fully aware that each meeting does things in its own way.

But isn’t it just the human condition that we are generally comfortable with what we know; that we have expectations based on previous experiences; and that we feel uneasy or irritated when our expectations are disappointed?

I was eagerly looking forward to this retreat, especially since my husband had never been to a Quaker retreat and I wanted to share the experience with him. So there I was at my first meeting retreat in England, trying to get into the swing of things. But I couldn’t. My expectations had been disappointed.

The meeting retreats I’ve known have been very different, almost completely spontaneous, with minimal necessary structure. The Retreat Committee made the actual practical arrangements of place, dates, etc., and developed the query for the retreat. They worked out the schedule, listed topics and assigned convenors for the sessions and small group discussions (the only pre-appointed people), from a list of volunteers who had signed up. Then they let everything flow from there.

These retreats were based on silent worship at the beginning of each session (usually about half an hour), followed by Quaker dialogue, when everyone in the circle had  the opportunity to speak (or pass). The numbers were not huge, varying over the years between about 35 and 70 participants (not including children, who had their own activities or child care).  Each person had ample opportunity to participate.

Small group sessions were set in separate rooms, so we could hear ourselves think and hear what others were saying, the groups discussing a “sub query” for an hour. For instance, one year the retreat query was, “How do we experience God in our day-to-day lives?” The sub-queries included one on whether we felt a personal relationship with Jesus and one for those who wanted to get outside and experience God in the natural world. At the end of the small group discussions, the groups came together again and the convenor (or a group member) gave a brief summary of their discussion.

Although this structure sounds similar to the retreat just ended, the key element was spontaneity. Nothing was planned other than the queries; everything else flowed  from the Spirit’s movement among us. I left that sort of retreat energized, invigorated, excited about Quaker life and Quaker process.

At Charney Manor, things seemed contrived; more intellectual activity and thought process than Spirit inspiration or leading. I left this retreat exhausted and left early because I simply couldn’t find it in myself to stick it any longer. Perhapsy this is all my own skewed perception and will change in time.

And I do not mean to say that the retreat didn’t go well. It went quite well, I think. Everything seemed to go pretty much as planned, with the few minor bumps that any gathering of this size and nature have. The planners obviously had everything well-organized. For me, the high point was the Saturday night sharing– music, poems, stories, things that were personal and important to those who were allowed to share. There were moments of Spirit that evening, and it made the retreat very worthwhile.

On Christianity, on Mysticism – A Few Thoughts

©2008, Ramona K Silipo. All rights reserved.

A discussion about Christianity (whether or not, I mean) has been going on in Quaker circles here in England for years. In the last revision of Faith and Practice (the book of  queries and testimonies),  almost all references to Christianity were removed. When I first went to Strawberry Creek meeting, the meeting was described as Christ-centered rather than Christian.

Friends accept anyone into meeting for worship, and woe betide the meeting that offends the one single Bah’ai who might wander in one day. The issue is serious, that is, that Friends in general do not believe there is one exclusive path to God, and so do not judge other religions. But it is carried to silly extremes lately. (I think the fundamentalists and evangelicals have a lot to answer for. People shy away from saying  Christian because of all the negative and repressive connotations connected with the fringe elements.)

My definition of Christian is pretty simple: A Christian is someone who sees Jesus Christ as a teacher or leader, possibly God– someone whose life is an example to follow. Redemption, sin and all the rules are not the key elements. It’s wanting to be Christ-like that is the transformative thinking. If you follow Jesus’s example, you’re a Christian in my book. You may be a trying Christian, but at least you’re trying.

That’s part 1. Part 2 is, I love all the Jesus stories. They are whacking good yarns. Raising people from the dead, walking on water, making wine from water, accepting people as they are (including tax collectors and whores, among other societal outcasts) — all of those are great stories,  are every bit as good as anything the Brothers Grimm or Hans Christian Andersen or C.S. Lewis came up with. Plus, in my view, it doesn’t matter whether he was “truly the Son of God” or not. If we do nothing more than follow his example we’re making an effort. As it happens, I do believe in his divinity. Whether he was more divine than Krishna or Buddha is another question, and, again, I don’t think it matters.

Oddly enough, the Christian mystics I know about are the Catholic ones, especially Theresa of Avila, who apparently had orgasmic experiences of Jesus (although we won’t find THAT word in any of the stories of her). I’ve always been fascinated by the descriptions of Christian mystical experiences, because they so often sound like sex as described in mildly pornographic novels. Is it all in their heads? Is it really a physical manifestation of the Holy Spriit entering their bodies? Is it delusions– and if delusions, from fasting or lack of sleep or other explainable reasons? Is it the Catholic Church’s so obvious masochism? What?

More seriously, mystical experiences are by definition unique and personal. No two people experience God in the same way. We are all imperfect humans, and we bring to any experience of God all the intellectual and emotional baggage we carry, no matter how genuine our intentions. Being open to being taken over by God is a pretty big order. Quaker meeting started the process for me; Tantra moved it forward very, very fast. Being able to surrender completely, even if only for a few seconds at a time, is an incredible grace. And the more you can do it, the more exciting and wondrous it becomes.

My favourite Jesus movie is Martin Scorcese’s The Last Temptation of Christ. Willem Dafoe plays Jesus as a real man, with doubts and needs and secrets, not as a perfect godlike creature. I mean, his Jesus  obviously likes women (which none of the other Jesus actors seemed to portray). And the relationship between Judas, played by Harvey Keitel, and Jesus is close and loving (and interpreted by some hopefuls as homosexual, but I don’t see it). The apostles are very real too, bickering among themselves, all trying to impress Jesus. To me, showing these “holy” people as absolutely human, with all the fears and needs we all have, makes them MORE holy, not less. They were able to overcome those very human failings and follow this guy for three years. That’s a big sacrifice if you were making money, sleeping with women and living a life before he turned up.

For me, that is the point: the mystical takes you out of the physical world and into the inexplicable, but even more real, world of pure spirit. Even if we only have it for a few seconds, or once or twice in a lifetime, what a gift! That some of us manage to have these experiences at length or repeatedly, then actually to communicate them in human language, and to have people hear and understand and follow— well, that’s a great grace.

Enough. I’m nattering on and on. I’ve been thinking about this for a couple of days, and it’s just spilling out.

Violent Anger: Is it “in a Normal Range of Emotions?”

©2008, RK Silipo. All rights reserved.

Recently I happened to meet a psychiatrist who believes that violent anger and violent behaviour are  “in a normal range of emotions.” Her view was that people who do not lash out violently are actually somehow lacking in their range of emotional responses; that the absence of violence is abnormal. As usual in this kind of unexpected encounter, I thought of half a dozen things to say in reply afterward.

I’ve been thinking about it quite a lot since then. I’ve been thinking what an unlivable world we would live in, if what she says were true. People who lash out, hit and kick and stab and shoot and carry out countless angry violent acts would be acceptable. If her assertion were correct, it would be those of us who eschew violence, who try to find other ways of expressing and dissipating anger, who were considered odd, and the wanton bullies who were considered normal. I wonder, would murder be considered normal in this world?

I think she is wrong. I completely reject her premise. To me, any violence is an unacceptable way to express anger. Violence is not only physical, but also verbal and emotional. In fact, the latter are potentially more psychologically damaging, and often have longer-term and more debilitating effects than physical violence.

I felt this way long before I became a Quaker, and it is one of the reasons that Quakerism appealed to me. Quaker faith and practice have become the core of the way I choose to live. My husband isn’t a member of a Quaker meeting, but he learned Quaker ethics when he lived in Friends International Centre (London) while he was a student. In fact, even earlier, in his teens, he had learned the yogic ethical code and chosen to live by it. The yogic code holds the view that violence in any form, physical or otherwise, is proscribed. The Quaker Testimony is that we work to remove all occasion of violence, including anger. So my husband and I put these precepts into practice.

If you know anything about the Religious Society of Friends (doubtful in itself as we do not proselytize much), it would most likely be something about the Testimony of Peace. People generally understand this to be opposition to war. But it is much broader than that. It also encompasses more than the well known passive resistance taught and practiced by Mahatma Gandhi and Martin Luther King, Jr. (although both were aware of Quaker thought and practice).

The Peace Testimony is an all-enveloping concept which imbues all aspects of ethical living. It means that we choose in daily life, in every instance, to try to avoid violence. Since Quakerism is a non creedal religion, individuals commit to various levels of living the testimonies, but virtually all Friends commit themselves to live the Peace Testimony.

So screaming matches, door slamming, threats, withdrawal of affection, the silent treatment and other fairly common acts of emotional/psychological manipulation and domestic violence are rare in Quaker homes. Quakers avoid confrontational behavior and instead try to make a habit of simply expressing anger, then moving on to ways to dissipate it.

Expressing anger, that is, saying outright, “This makes me angry,” and then letting go of it, is completely in the spirit of a non violent life choice. It is the way we try to handle anger. Of course we don’t always completely succeed, but neither do we commit frequent acts of violence–verbal, emotional or physical.

Several years ago I learned a method of dealing with anger called the Peace Empowerment Process© (PEP), including the Blueprint of Emotional Wisdom© and can now teach these techniques. This process reveals that anger is virtually always a mask or an outward manifestation of a deeper, hidden emotion. People learn the techniques to look under the anger and identify the underlying emotions: fear, disappointment, grief or guilt. By finding the true emotion and dealing with it, we remove the reason for the anger.

When the process is learned, it can become almost automatic in moments of anger. The PEP demonstrably reduced violence (including bullying) levels in classrooms where it was taught to children, especially ages nine to fourteen, but also through high school age. I practice the PEP whenever I need to deal with anger. (See Creativity in the Lion’s Den: Releasing Our Children from Violence, by Carolyna Marks, and go to www.wwfp.org for more details.)

I have also been interested in forgiveness studies for many years, and before I left  California I completed the intensive forgiveness seminars at Stanford University.  Dr. Fred Luskin, founder of Stanford’s Forgiveness Project, gave me permission to teach Forgive for Good© workshops in the UK.

The catch phrase for his seminars is  “Forgiveness is giving up all hope for a better past.” That is, we cannot change the past, and in order to move forward and grow emotionally, we must let go of it. His research shows that holding on to resentment, pain or anger is literally bad for physical as well as psychological and emotional health. (See www.learningtoforgive.com.)

My personal feeling is that anger is wasted energy; and stewing in anger, resentment or revenge fantasies only serves to make people unhappy.

Atheist Quakers?

©2008, Ramona K. Silipo. All rights reserved.

A long-standing quandary within the Religious Society of Friends (Quakers), which seems to be more obvious lately, is a growing number of atheists attending meetings, with a frustrating exchange of thought between Friends who know God and Friends who do not. The very core of the Quaker religion has historically been the Experience of the Presence of God in our Meeting for Worship.

The form of worship is silence, with Friends sitting, usually in a circle, or on facing benches in older meeting houses, waiting for God’s inspiration to speak. Many, if not most, such Meetings for Worship pass entirely in silence. Sometimes a person or several persons stand(s) to give Spoken Ministry, but not always.

In programmed meetings, in which worship generally resembles a Protestant church service with singing, a sermon and spoken prayer, there is a period of silence during which Friends wait upon the Lord in the same manner as the traditional silent meeting.

Both of these forms of worship are based on the very fact of God’s existence, and our ability to hear the Word of God if we are open to do so. The core of Quaker faith has been this mystical experience.

However, more and more atheists and agnostics are finding their way to Friends’ meetings, and finding to their liking the Quaker non-judgmental approach to religion. These self-named “non-theists”do not seem to comprehend how their presence can disrupt the faithful silence of Friends’ worship. (And what is wrong with “atheist?” it’s a perfectly good, accurate word.) Faithful Friends often cannot fathom what the non-theist wants with a religious community that relies on the word of God. Frequently faithful Friends refrain from questioning the presence of non-theists because they don’t want to face conflict within the Meeting. (Avoidance of conflict is another issue among Quakers, but it is another, very large, topic.)

The following is a dialogue, culled from various discussions, edited and rewritten for continuity. In it I address key questions I have asked or would like to ask non-theists, and key thoughts non-theists have expressed. It should be obvious, but in case it isn’t, I am of the Friends who believe in God, have experienced God’s presence, and who wonder what the heck a person who doesn’t believe in God could possibly be doing in a Meeting for Worship that is waiting for God’s word.

Theist (T):
If God is so much more than we can perceive, and if we ask people about the nature of that God, it is likely that we will get the “blind men and the elephant” result. Maybe we all possess limited or restricted awareness, based on cultural issues or genetics or even upbringing. Those of us, for example, who did not enjoy a wonderful loving relationship with our fathers, are not likely to see God in that guise.

The “Quaker experience of God” is not the same experience for each person. And that is one of the wonders of God. S/he/It appears to each of us in a way that our understanding can take God in. The crucial phrase, though, is “IT IS THE EXPERIENCE OF GOD THAT INFORMS OUR PRAXIS.” Yes. The experience of God is at the center of Quaker worship.

Question (to non-theist):
Why did you come to the RELIGIOUS Society of Friends? What did/do you want from a religious community?

Non-Theist (NT): Initially, I came out of belief in God, the Creator. When, because of scientific evidence, I stopped believing in God, I found that I still liked the way of the Society of Friends, and wanted to continue with them. Also, you understand, it was not a sudden conversion but a waning of belief. There was no moment when what I did suddenly became incongruous with my beliefs.

(T) replies:
This happened to me. I was a devout Catholic, brought up in the Church, confirmed, a true believer in the Nicene Creed, which we recited every Sunday during Mass. But as I matured, I came to realize that I did not believe this part of the Creed, or, later, that part. And so on. I also did not follow some of Cannon Law. I did not consider it to have God’s authority, but men’s.

So my beliefs changed. I accepted only part of the Faith. Rather than remain in the Catholic Church and be a hypocrite, I left that religion and found another one that I could believe in.

Question (to NT):
Why does someone whose no longer believes in the core principles of the RSoF (or any religious organization) stay in that organization?

(NT) replies:
Fellowship with people like me, who have my attitudes of questing mind and acceptance of others who do not agree about everything, but respect each other’s honest thought. Who are interested in others and their understandings. Who are committed to Truth.

Question (to NT):
In Meeting for Worship, I wait upon the Lord (Jesus). But you don’t believe in Jesus, or, as far as I know, in any name of God. What, to you, is worship? What do you do during Meeting for Worship?

(NT) replies:
I do exactly what you do. Like you, I still my mind and turn inward to the Light. Unlike you, I see that Light as my own.

(T):
But I do not turn inward. I turn outward, to connect with my Meeting as a spiritual entity and to experience God as the source of our Unity in Spirit. I hold myself open to the Light, or the Spirit, of God. Turning inward is concerned with self and separateness. Turning outward is concerned with Spirit and connection. These are not the same actions or attitudes at all.

Question (to NT):
Worship is often defined as waiting upon the Lord or seeking the Light of the Spirit. How is it possible to do this if you do not believe in God?

(NT):
I do believe in Good. I like the story of the two wolves inside, one good, one bad, fighting. The one that wins is the one you feed. I believe that if I can turn away from the thoughts buzzing in my mind, to my core (if “heart” means a muscle pumping blood), that Core is the same good as your “Light”.

(T):
The wolf story is a Native American story, and I am familiar with it. But it doesn’t speak to my Concern here. If you think that your individual Light is the same as the Light of God, the logical extrapolation is not that you do not believe in God, but that you believe that you are God. I’ve of heard humanists accused of elevating humanity to god status, but not of non theists doing that.

Question (to NT):
What do you do during Meeting for Worship on the Occasion of Doing Business? Do you attend? Do you speak? How do you participate in a process of corporate decision making in which you do not believe (i.e. discerning God’s will)?

(NT):
Because my experience is the same as yours, finding a way will open. I (I claim the word) Worship, turn to the Good which is part of me, and seek the Good of the community.

(T):
But your experience is not the same as mine. I experience the presence of God and seek to discern God’s wisdom for the Life of the Meeting, and you do not experience the presence of God. My seeking does not go inward to my ego or personality or intellect, but outward toward God and ultimately toward Unity with my Quaker meeting community.

I do hope that some non theists can and do answer my questions fully themselves. I want to hear from people who really don’t believe in God, especially why they so much want to participate in a religious community. It made me very uncomfortable and made me feel completely two-faced attending Mass when I didn’t accept the same beliefs that the other people there did. No one else knew my thoughts; it was only my personal integrity at risk. I couldn’t stand the hypocrisy, so I left. It was the only honest thing to do.