Recently I was sitting in a Quaker worship service. It was one of those Quaker gatherings that come together in silence. At the appointed hour, the room becomes quiet. People begin to settle into the quiet. I purposely have used the word, quiet, to begin the process. Although I don’t want to chase it here, it would be fun to figure out whether there is any difference between quiet and silence. Right now I assume there is a difference.
I understand quiet to be a lack of sounds. As the Quakers began that worship service, we all got quiet. There was no talking. In fact, most people close their eyes, so there is not even the curiosity of looking around to see what is happening. Who is fiddling yet with their phone? Who just came in thirty seconds late? Sometimes I find it difficult not to look up to see who that was! These are the times I realize I got quiet, but I have not yet begun the silence. I have not even begun to settle in.
Quakers talk about the process of “settling in” with the language of centering. This idea is rooted in our theological notion that deep within each of us is a “center.” It is easy for me to recall the early lines from Thomas Kelly’s book, A Testament of Devotion, where he affirms “deep within us all is an amazing inner sanctuary of the soul, a holy place, a Divine Center, a speaking Voice, to which we may continuously return.” (1) I am quite confident this is the Quaker theological expression of that classic Christian doctrine that we are all created in the image of God. Instead of image-language, Quakers use the language of center. I actually like what the Quakers have done.
Believing I and you have an amazing inner sanctuary of the soul---a center---means that this is the place where God and I connect. When I am at my center---or in touch with it---I am with God and connected to God. Quakers acknowledge each and every one of us can be in touch with and connected with God. But the simple fact is, most of the time most of us are not in touch or connected. Indeed, we are disconnected! To follow the Quaker linguistic lead, we are “eccentric,” that is, “away from out center.” To be eccentric is to be on the surface---at the edge of real life and really who we are.
Coming together in worship is a group process intending to leave the superficial and try to be moved back to our center. It is intentionally re-focusing. I realize this means to back away from what is normal in my life. I sit in a chair and actually try to sit up. Good posture helps. I put away the cell phone. It is normally a part of my life, but I also realize how distracting---even in normal life---it can be. I know scientifically the phone is designed to steal my attention. It has bells, buzzers, etc. to call me away from whatever I am doing. Sometimes I won’t even take it with me into worship. It is a devil machine---it’s job is to tempt!
And so I begin in quiet, as does everyone else. My hope is somehow being quiet will meld into silence. Being quiet means that I simply have quit doing the normal things in life. There is no talking, no radio, no phone, no looking around for something to take my attention. I begin to wait. Clearly, all these are very counter-cultural for most Americans. It would be easy to hear complaints that “nothing is happening!” Ironically, I am trying to do nothing so that something will happen. I can’t clap my hand and expect God to show up! I have to get quiet, wait and expect. These are good words to describe a Quaker worship service. Indeed, the hope is that by nothing happening, something will begin to happen.
By getting quiet, I expect that I can begin to become silent. Silence happens as I begin to center. Or maybe I should use the passive voice: I begin to be centered. I am not sure I can do it; more likely, I think, it happens to me. I am ok calling this grace. Surely it is a gift. It is given to me. I can’t grit my teeth and with effort make it happen. God is not a puppet and neither am I. As I begin to be centered, I am taken within---to that inner sanctuary. With hope I will find myself in the Divine Center. I will come to be with God---centered.
As I become centered, time begins to disappear. I am no longer aware of the normal things. If I am centered, there may be some noise, but I pay no attention. Typically, I spend a little time in this holy place. I may “hear” that speaking Voice. I might “see” the Light, as John’s Gospel describes. These are metaphorical uses of the five senses to describe an experience that is spiritual.
It does not matter how long I spend in this experience. Five minutes will be as good a thirty. It is like being asked how long did you spend in eternity! It is fresh and refreshing. Normally it is a time of peace and some joy. Love dominates. For a while, I can truly say I was in the kingdom. But at some point, we all are pulled back into life as we usually live it. But is does not have to be back to “normal life.” If we have been centered, we have a chance to live life from this center.
That’s my hope and my goal every day: to live life from this center.
I understand quiet to be a lack of sounds. As the Quakers began that worship service, we all got quiet. There was no talking. In fact, most people close their eyes, so there is not even the curiosity of looking around to see what is happening. Who is fiddling yet with their phone? Who just came in thirty seconds late? Sometimes I find it difficult not to look up to see who that was! These are the times I realize I got quiet, but I have not yet begun the silence. I have not even begun to settle in.
Quakers talk about the process of “settling in” with the language of centering. This idea is rooted in our theological notion that deep within each of us is a “center.” It is easy for me to recall the early lines from Thomas Kelly’s book, A Testament of Devotion, where he affirms “deep within us all is an amazing inner sanctuary of the soul, a holy place, a Divine Center, a speaking Voice, to which we may continuously return.” (1) I am quite confident this is the Quaker theological expression of that classic Christian doctrine that we are all created in the image of God. Instead of image-language, Quakers use the language of center. I actually like what the Quakers have done.
Believing I and you have an amazing inner sanctuary of the soul---a center---means that this is the place where God and I connect. When I am at my center---or in touch with it---I am with God and connected to God. Quakers acknowledge each and every one of us can be in touch with and connected with God. But the simple fact is, most of the time most of us are not in touch or connected. Indeed, we are disconnected! To follow the Quaker linguistic lead, we are “eccentric,” that is, “away from out center.” To be eccentric is to be on the surface---at the edge of real life and really who we are.
Coming together in worship is a group process intending to leave the superficial and try to be moved back to our center. It is intentionally re-focusing. I realize this means to back away from what is normal in my life. I sit in a chair and actually try to sit up. Good posture helps. I put away the cell phone. It is normally a part of my life, but I also realize how distracting---even in normal life---it can be. I know scientifically the phone is designed to steal my attention. It has bells, buzzers, etc. to call me away from whatever I am doing. Sometimes I won’t even take it with me into worship. It is a devil machine---it’s job is to tempt!
And so I begin in quiet, as does everyone else. My hope is somehow being quiet will meld into silence. Being quiet means that I simply have quit doing the normal things in life. There is no talking, no radio, no phone, no looking around for something to take my attention. I begin to wait. Clearly, all these are very counter-cultural for most Americans. It would be easy to hear complaints that “nothing is happening!” Ironically, I am trying to do nothing so that something will happen. I can’t clap my hand and expect God to show up! I have to get quiet, wait and expect. These are good words to describe a Quaker worship service. Indeed, the hope is that by nothing happening, something will begin to happen.
By getting quiet, I expect that I can begin to become silent. Silence happens as I begin to center. Or maybe I should use the passive voice: I begin to be centered. I am not sure I can do it; more likely, I think, it happens to me. I am ok calling this grace. Surely it is a gift. It is given to me. I can’t grit my teeth and with effort make it happen. God is not a puppet and neither am I. As I begin to be centered, I am taken within---to that inner sanctuary. With hope I will find myself in the Divine Center. I will come to be with God---centered.
As I become centered, time begins to disappear. I am no longer aware of the normal things. If I am centered, there may be some noise, but I pay no attention. Typically, I spend a little time in this holy place. I may “hear” that speaking Voice. I might “see” the Light, as John’s Gospel describes. These are metaphorical uses of the five senses to describe an experience that is spiritual.
It does not matter how long I spend in this experience. Five minutes will be as good a thirty. It is like being asked how long did you spend in eternity! It is fresh and refreshing. Normally it is a time of peace and some joy. Love dominates. For a while, I can truly say I was in the kingdom. But at some point, we all are pulled back into life as we usually live it. But is does not have to be back to “normal life.” If we have been centered, we have a chance to live life from this center.
That’s my hope and my goal every day: to live life from this center.
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