Skip to main content

Colonial Organisms

One of the things I am privileged to do is visit a number of different worship communities.  Sometimes I get to attend Catholic Mass and other times it is a much more free form Protestant denomination.  I appreciate the variety of liturgical styles.  The Catholic Mass is quite predictable.  Because of my experience and my work in the history of the Christian Church, I know very well what will happen when I go to Mass.  I like the various readings from the Bible.  I love it that a Psalm will be shared.  Since Quakers don’t do the outward sacraments, it took a while for me to learn to understand and appreciate the eucharist or communion.  Going to a Methodist Church or others like it is also very familiar.

That said, I also very much like going back into my familiar Quaker context.  Some Quakers have a worship service that is much like a Methodist or Baptist.  I know we will sing some hymns, hear a sermon and maybe a choir.  I always hope there is some time of silence and, perhaps, others in the group will “speak out of the silence,” as Quakers say.  However, I am often disappointed, since pastoral Quakers have shortened or, sadly, sometimes eliminated the quiet, open time of worship.

I admit I still really enjoy going to an “unprogrammed” worship service with Quakers.  Many Quakers in this country still gather as a group and sit in silence.  Here Quakers are not passive people waiting for something to happen.  Rather it is the expectation of all gathered that they begin in silence in order to make some “space” for the Word of God to be given and spoken.  The theory here is when humans are talking, it is difficult for God to speak.  Our job in worship is to be attentive---expectant waiting, we like to say.  It is an active listening.  We feel confident that God will “speak” and somehow one or even all of us will come to know it as a divine message for the day.

Recently I was in just such a Quaker meeting.  Nearly forty minutes passed with a fairly large gathering of folks sitting together in silence.  Of course, there were the usual noises of human beings.  Some breathe a little audibly.  Occasionally, there is a cough or the quiet voice of a child who may not be as much into the silence as the rest of us.  But over all, there is a quietness that I find both comforting and inspiring.  Because I am practiced in this form of worship, I was ok if no one spoke in the whole hour.  We simply shake hands and it is over.

But someone did speak that morning.  Typically, the person who speaks stands where he or she is and shares the words that they think God has given them to share with the group.  However, the speaker of the morning did not stand; he actually was in wheelchair right next to me.  I did not know him---but that didn’t matter. 

He began talking about his understanding of human beings.  I listened because the Quaker assumption is somehow the speaker is speaking on behalf of God.  He shared that his understanding of humans is that we each are a colonial organism.  That was a new one for me!  Fairly quickly, it became evident the guy must be a scientist or, at least, someone who has read a great deal.  I was fascinated.  Hmmm…I am a colonial organism.

Before writing this, I did a little poking around.  I found a dictionary definition of a colonial organism.  It is an organism “composed of many physically connected, interdependent individuals.”  I read on and learned that this step in the evolution of the universe was quite a big jump.  Colonial organisms are the result of single cell organisms bonded with others to increase their capacity to survive.

It was easy to understand what the speaker of the morning was getting at.  Individually, each of us is a single organism composed of a trillion cells or more.  Clearly, there are sub-colonial organizations within our single body.  But each of us bonds with others to form community.  This was the case for my worshipping Quaker community that morning.  Together we are one---one body of Christ, the Apostle Paul calls it.  I also live in other communities---colonial organisms.

I was fascinated that the Quaker speaker used this image to talk about how the various worshipping Quaker communities could be colonial organisms in the world to spread peace and justice.  We could be joined by other colonial organisms, like Catholics and Buddhists and Muslims---and all the rest.  Our job is to enlighten, not cause darkness.  We are to make peace, not war. 

Our job is to gather and to be together.  We increase the global chance for survival if we do.  This helps me understand in a fresh way the ideas of egotism and selfishness.  Colonial organisms have nothing to do with egotists.  We don’t want to put up with selfishness.  That will detract from our chances together.  If one hurts, surely all hurt.  If one prospers, then we are in for a good deal.

For years I knew that community was important to me.  Now I have a more scientific way of articulating it.  That is new language for good news today. 

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

I-Thou Relationships

Those of us who have read theology or, perhaps, those who are people of faith and are old enough might well recognize this title as a reminder of the late Jewish philosopher and theologian, Martin Buber.   I remember reading Buber’s book, I and Thou , when I was in college in the 1960s.   It was already a famous book by then.   I am not sure I fully understood it, but that would not be the last time I read it.   It has been a while since I looked at the book.             Buber came up in a conversation with a friend who asked if I had seen the recent article by David Brooks?   I had not seen it, but when I was told about it, I knew I would quickly locate and read that piece.   I very much like what Brooks decides to write about and what he contributes to societal conversation.   I wish more people read him and took him seriously.             Brooks’ article focused on the 2016 contentious election.   He provocatively suggests, “Read Buber, Not the Polls!”   I think Brooks puts

Spiritual Commitment

I was reading along in a very nice little book and hit these lines about commitment.   The author, Mitch Albom, uses the voice of one of the main characters of his nonfiction book about faith to reflect on commitment.   The voice belongs to Albom’s old rabbi of the Jewish synagogue where he went until his college days.   The old rabbi, Albert Lewis, says “the word ‘commitment’ has lost its meaning.”    The rabbi continues in a way that surely would have many people saying, “Amen!”   About commitment he says, “I’m old enough when it used to be a positive.   A committed person was someone to be admired.   He was loyal and steady.   Now a commitment is something you avoid.   You don’t want to tie yourself down.”   I also think I am old enough to know that commitment was usually a positive word.   I can think of a range of situations in which commitment would have been seen to be positive.   For example, growing up was full of sports for me.   Commitment would have been presupposed t

Inward Journey and Outward Pilgrimage

There are so many different ways to think about the spiritual life.   And of course, in our country there are so many different variations of religious experiences.   There are liberals and conservatives.   There are fundamentalists and Pentecostals.   Besides the dizzying variety of Christian traditions, there are many different non-Christian traditions.   There are the major traditions, such as Islam, Buddhism, Hinduism, and so on.   There are the slightly more obscure traditions, such as Sikhism, Jainism, etc.   And then there are more fringe groups and, even, pseudo-religions.   There are defining doctrines and religious practices.   Some of these are specific to a particular tradition or a few traditions, such as the koan , which is used in Zen Buddhism for example.   Other defining doctrines or practices are common across the religious board.   Something like meditation would be a good example.   Christians meditate; Buddhists meditate.   And other groups practice this spiri