Game for the Future

John 4:1-30
Cane Creek Meeting 250^th Anniversary Celebration
Jay W. Marshall, Dean
Earlham School of Religion
October 7, 2001

In education, good teachers continually look for ways to engage their students. No matter how good the lesson, if it doesn’t “stick”, its message is lost and higher goals for the class are not met. People frequently create mnemonic devices or learn through games as a way of communicating material that should be remembered. If we were to spend this time reminiscing about the past, a good game of Quaker Trivia would be just right. My word, we Friends love trivia–historic tidbits–some powerful witnesses to our past, and others just odd bits of info that made it past our information filters long enough to raise our curiosity.

But the good folks who invited me here wrote that you’d spend an entire year looking back at this meeting’s 250 year history. They really wanted this service to help you think about the future. To me, that said a trivial pursuit game as a learning tool was out of the question. Thank goodness for that because I like to win, and it’s nearly impossible to win the Quaker Trivial Pursuit games. No matter how much you know, somebody has always dug up at least one more obscure factual relic from aunt Maude’s journal or uncle Jedediah’s “epistle to the fire marshal on the occasion of his most recent discontent.”

So I’m glad trivial pursuit is not the appropriate learning tool for the day. But I did temporarily fall into that imaginary what-if world, wondering what if our future was played out on any number of the game shows popularized on TV over recent years.

If we could just get a little time on “The Weakest Link”, perhaps we could solve this long running feud between the Hicksites and the Guerneyites, and finally decide whether programmed or unprogrammed Friends were a stronger link to the Truth. These days, the feud is not so much open controversy as it is an air of superiority exercised at key moments. Of course the advantage of reliving family feuds is that you never have to deal with the present or embrace the future. That is a good approach to the planning for the future if you believe the future is about survival, and that survival only comes by ridding oneself of one’s enemies.

Or remember Monty Hall, and “Let’s Make A Deal?” Back in the days of three TV channels received over a tinfoil-covered coat hanger, that was “must see TV.” Imagine these words from old Monty: “Cane Creek Meeting, to date you have won 250 years. You may take those years and sit down right now, or you may have what’s behind curtain number two.”

While you’re biting your nails wondering whether to take that risk, Monty sweetens the pot: “or perhaps you rather have what’s behind door number 1. Jack, give Cane Creek a glimpse at what is waiting for them there”–and you’d see just enough to tease you–maybe a couple of new families with children, or a large pile of canned goods donated to the local food pantry or the funds for that new air conditioner you’ve wanted for the meetinghouse.

Of course, they wouldn’t show you enough to fill in all the missing pieces of what the future might be. “Let’s Make a Deal” is a good approach to the future if your strategy is to grab impulsively at options with no real knowledge of what you’re asking for, or even what you want for that matter.

“Concentration” could be an appropriate game show to play out the future. Remember that one? A board containing tiny numbered boxes. Each box represents a possible choice which can be yours if you find the corresponding box somewhere else on the board. Match a car behind number 1 with a car behind number 23 and you can drive that automobile home. “Concentration” is the approach we take when we’re puzzled sometimes, but are certain that with enough guesses we can figure our way out of it. We remember certain things we’ve already seen in the past, and we guess randomly at the unknown slots of life, hoping we’re fortunate enough to get a match.

The list could continue. Maybe “Joker’s Wild”–where the future is a gamble and all we do is pull a lever, cross our fingers and pray. Actually, that one may be the default method for thinking about the future among Friends!

We probably have higher aspirations for the future of this Meeting! So we’ll leave the games behind, except to note that whatever approach we take to thinking or not thinking about our future is undergirded and reinforced by a supporting philosophy and mind-set.

Judi and I have found a quiet little spot in Indiana that serves as a refuge for our busy souls. It is a beautiful house constructed of granite field stone, set in the middle of ten acres of hardwood trees. It has become quite a haven for us. The land has lots of beech trees on it. I used to tell Judi I’d like a house by the beach. This is probably as close as I’ll get in Indiana!

Why do I tell you this? On the back side of the house stands a tall beech tree. I would guess it is fifty feet tall or more. From a distance it is gorgeous. A picture of vitality. As one gets closer to it, a huge decayed area comes into focus. That section of the trunk base is soft and hollowing. I don’t know how it continues to put forth such beautiful foliage. From certain angles, the weakness is not visible. From other points of view, that is all that can be seen. I have thought of taking that beech tree down, fearful that it might fall on the house. But I can not bring myself to do it, not yet anyway. I worry about the health and stability of that tree. Meanwhile powerful storms blow through our place on occasion. We have lost probably half a dozen trees just as large–fortunately out in the woods where they caused no harm. They were strong looking, with no sign of decay or weakness. They have tumbled while this obviously weakened tree has not budged.

As I prayed about the future of Friends and the message for this meeting in particular, the image of that tree came to me repeatedly as symbolic of Friends. There are some real places of weakness among us; but there is also some splendid strength and vitality within our body. Do not be surprised to see other larger and seemingly stronger groups fare less well than we do. Friends can have a future–a bright and lengthy one–but only because the living power of God flows through us in ways that defy the obvious weaknesses of our character. That says to me, any rumination about a future needs to tackle the question of how we relate to and are empowered by the living power of God.

In addition to the image of the tree, as I thought about this day, I was repeatedly drawn to the story of Jesus and the Samaritan woman at the well. That surprised me initially, but upon reflection, what a powerful and appropriate story as a starting point for thinking about our future, particularly in light of the decaying tree image.

The woman’s speech to Jesus reveals two common assumptions that frequently define our expectations, and thus greatly shape our future. Her first question is “How is it that you, a Jew, ask a drink of me, a woman of Samaria?” Parentheses, Jews do not share things in common with Samaritans.”

These words betray an expectation bound captive by traditional categories. They were legitimate categories established by society, culture, religion, politics–all the major forces that shape and reinforce such categories. But no matter how legitimate categories may be, when they unfairly dominate the conversation, they will limit the possibilities she can imagine.

What was true for the Samaritan woman is true for us as well. When you think of Christian, what are the dominant categories that shape your understanding? When you add the term Quaker to Christian, how is that image sharpened? Are those distinctives ones that continue to give life and spread Truth, or do they keep you bound and hobbled from entering conversation with God who is present among you, or from engaging the needs of the moment where faith has something to contribute? Add the layer of identity that says Cane Creek to Quaker and Christian. What has that meant to this point in time? Has it served God well? Is it taking the gospel into this community in ways that filter down to the basic fabric of society, or does it merely describe the address of the place where you attend a service of worship? If ever there is a time to try to become aware of the categories that define you and begin to “think outside the box,” the occasion of imagining a future is just such a time.

The second assumption that limits the future possibilities the Samaritan woman can imagine is her fixation on certain places as holy places. After the conversation about the mysterious living water Jesus mentions, and how if only she drank of that water she’d never thirst again, the Samaritan woman can’t help but comment, “Sir, I see you are a prophet. Our ancestors worshiped on this mountain, but you say that the place where people must worship is in Jerusalem.” Imagining the future to which God’s Truth was calling her was difficult because of particular conceptions of holy space. You say Jerusalem. Our ancestors have said this place. We must worship here, in this place and in this way.

When I moved to Indiana in 1990, I was invited to speak at a little rural meeting near Richmond. I arrived early that day and sat alone in the room for meeting for worship while waiting for Sunday School to adjourn. I was getting a sense of the mood and spirit of the room. Sunday School adjourned. The first person through the door was a large, elderly woman with reddish hair and light green polyester dress. She made a bee line to where I was sitting. I started to smile, thinking she was coming to welcome me. Instead, she reached the pew where I sat and said, “You know, you’re sitting in my seat.” No other seat was taken in the whole place, though they probably belonged to someone! A stranger in her midst–possibly a new attender for all she knew–but the most important thing on her mind that day was someone was in her space and without it, she couldn’t worship. I said, “I’m sorry. I’ll move.” She replied, “Oh no. My husband and I shared that pew for fifty years before he died. But don’t move. It is okay.” I said, “No ma’am. If it had been okay, you wouldn’t have mentioned it.”

These two traps of traditional categories and traditional places lead us directly into the battle between tradition and traditionalism. As someone has said (sorry I can’t give precise credit), “Tradition is the living faith of the dead; traditionalism is the dead faith of the living.” My prayer for Cane Creek is that the future you imagine and work toward is rooted in tradition but free from traditionalism. Friends struggle with that balance. A friend of ESR said to me recently, “Don’t waste any institutional money writing a book about Quaker history. We’ve got more than enough of those. Write something that helps us think about our future.” I think we want a future that draws from and is founded upon those important truths of our past that form the essence of a Quaker approach to Christian faith; but we don’t need the continued fascination with Quaker trivia that is fun and games, but is only fun and games. Having said that, how might we live into this future?

The answer Jesus presented to the woman at the well in the midst of her dilemma and confusion is an answer that remains viable for us as well–turn to the Living Water. I don’t offer that as a trite or simplistic answer. What does that mean in real, practical terms? Simply, I think it means to reconnect with and depend upon the God who created us and calls in real, life-transforming ways.

When I read early Friends accounts of their faith, there is an immediacy to their relationship with God that isn’t always as apparent among this generation of Friends. In his journal, William Penn writes that the Lord first appeared to him when he was twelve years of age, and describes “how at times, betwixt that and the fifteenth (year) the Lord visited me, and the divine impressions he gave me of himself.” Similarly, after describing her struggle to learn to pray Mary Penington writes “I was unable to sit at my work, but was strongly inclined to go into a private room, which I did, and shutting the door, kneeled down and poured out my soul to the Lord in a very vehement manner. I was wonderfully melted and eased, and felt peace and acceptance with the Lord: and this was true prayer, which I had never before been acquainted with.” Do you hear the immediacy in those accounts?

I hear from people who study growth movements within the church that the extremes edges of Christianity are the places one finds growth–the very conservative groups who are able to narrowly define a relationship with God and instruct a person through it, or those that are so progressive in their approach that they’re open to new experiences regardless of if and how they connect with the Christian roots. You may recall that it was a similar period in Friends history when we were the radicals on the margins that Friends grew exponentially. The extremes are growing today. Meanwhile, the middle, the mainline, is like a school of salmon swimming upstream trying to find the home we came from. Salmon will be more successful in this approach.

When others were confined to the Jesus represented on a page or the Jesus taught about by the clergy, Friends were among those dissenting groups who went straight to the source. They knew–don’t say they– WE knew what it was like to worship in Spirit and in Truth. That experience was so powerful that all the external props organized religion offered dropped to the wayside. Here is our first contribution toward a bright future: recover from that living tradition what it means to know the Living Water in Spirit and in Truth, rather than primarily through third hand information and layer upon layer of tradition. We must know it with an immediacy that transforms us rather than an apathy that bores us.

We have a second tremendous contribution for the future: Our own diverse vocabulary and images that we have collected as we’ve listened to one another express our experience of God. We have Christ language; Jesus language, God language, Light language; Seed language and on it goes. Some may see that as a weakness, as a sign that we don’t know what we believe (there may be some of that involved!) But I am impressed by the capacity we have, with that broad understanding, to span as wide a range of conversation partners as any group I know. Why is that important? Because in order to have a useful conversation, there must be a common language through which we convey the message we have. If you’ve taken a peek out your front door lately, you know that this world feels smaller than it used to. Neighborhoods are racially, ethnically, religiously, economically and politically mixed. When a sneeze on the other side of the world is important enough, we know about it before the sun has set. If we think we can get through this world without relating to people different from us, we’re fooling ourselves unless we prepared for a hermit’s existence, or to live a very short life. If your future is to involve a reach beyond the confines of this meeting, (and for you to have a future, I suspect you must) then Cane Creek must be able to enter into conversation with persons outside your usual circle of acquaintances. That is true whether your motivation is cooperation, correction or conversion.

I’ve just been reading a book called “The Tipping Point” in which the author places the story of Paul Revere alongside William Dawes. Who is William Dawes you might ask? That is the whole point. We know Paul Revere’s story, but few know William Dawes at all. Yet both of them rode throughout the colonies on that same night warning of the British’s arrival. One rode to the north, the other to the south. One was heard. One wasn’t. The message of one spread and caused a response. The message of the other inspired hardly any. One is well-known and remembered; one barely heard of. The difference? In this writer’s opinion, it was the fact that Revere was a “connector.” He affiliated with lots of groups–five of the seven militia groups in the area, for example. He was known. He was in conversation. He was listened to when the moment came that he had a message to proclaim. William Dawes, in contrast, was not a good connector despite whatever good intentions or other talents he had.

It seems to me that in the stronger moments of our history, Friends were involved in nearly every conversation worth having. If there was a religious debate, some Friend was there. If a hot political issue was stewing, Friends were involved. If injustice needed a prophetic voice and a compassionate response, Friends were there. While persecution and Quietism cut our ties with many of those conversations in the early years, in this generation at least, the culprit is the rigid, preservation mentality that creeps into an organization when it becomes overly preoccupied with its own survival rather than its true reason for being. Mix into that preservation tendency a heavy dose of American individualism and our “dispose and replace” mentality for everything from razor blades and paper cups to spouses, and it become easy for a good intentioned albeit confused Church to determine it does not have to talk to anyone it doesn’t care for. Think about it–that makes it really hard to carry the gospel to any except those who are already here.

While we may be out of practice, I would suggest to you that Friends have the vocabulary and the knowledge to engage in a wide range of conversations. We must once again become connectors, participating in wide range of conversations, knowing that those conversations allow us the opportunity to be canals through which the Living Water is channeled.

So, the first important piece of the future is the manner of knowing the Living God in an immediate way that is an inherent part of Friends worship when it is practiced well. The second is the ability to engage in a wide range of conversations, made possible by the diverse language in our own tradition. There is a third.

I recently have been cleaning out some of my clothes closets. My wife says I never throw away old clothes, and there is some truth to that. As I’ve pulled old shirts and ties from the back recesses of that dark abode, I’m finding things that I quit wearing because they went out style are now in fashion again! I don’t necessarily need much that is new. I think that is the third part of the answer to having a vital future.

With that image of recycling I introduce to you the third important piece of a vital future for a place like Cane Creek. The primary values that have defined Quaker distinctiveness within the Christian faith–like the inner Light, sacramental living, respecting that of God in every person, peace, simplicity, equality and integrity–are coming back into style. I believe that much of life is cyclical. There is, once again, a hungry audience for those values wrapped up in religious faith. Bookstore shelves are filled with texts exhorting the values of seeing the unity of the universe and embracing the possibility of encountering the Divine in common experiences. We’ve had that in that in our theological wardrobe for years. People tired of a hectic pace buy books about de-cluttering their lives. Friends have had simplicity in our closet of faith as long as we’ve had a faith. After the events of recent weeks, can there be anyone who doesn’t understand why emphasizing Christianity as a Gospel of Peace is important? Friends, I believe we have a multitude of insight on God’s Truth that can speak to the condition of this hurting world. But in order to get a virtuoso chair in God’s orchestra, we will have to reconnect with the Living Water in transforming ways. We need to be shaken out of complacent routines and traditions that have become the focus of our time and energy. We need that immediate experience of God to teach us how to revive these old closet relics, those hallowed values that generally are relegated to Quaker trivia status, but receive on a tip of the hat in terms of shaping our ministry. If those relics aren’t the right ones, and perhaps I’m wrong about that, we need to agree on a new set of testimonies that become the basis for the outward expression of our Inner Light. The point is that a vital faith of the future has to be speak to the condition of a hurting world. And as a capstone, we must be connectors, engaging in the conversation again. For how shall they believe if they have not heard? And how shall they hear if none bother to teach and to preach?

As we stand at the intersection where two hundred fifty years connects with the road to the future, perhaps the right game show for this moment is the “$64,000 Question.” Among the pyramid of questions that require an answer are: What are the issues in this community that need attention? How is the meeting, or how are the members of this meeting, involved in those issues? How do you understand your connection as a person of faith to the larger condition of this nation and this world? Having drank from the Living Water, to what is God calling you? What are the ministries this meeting should be known for when Friends gather two hundred fifty years from now and look once again at your past? I pray that you find answers that transcend conventional categories and places, and lead you along the path that worships and ministers in Spirit and in Truth.