Deborah's Journal

So I'm sitting in Quaker meeting, as usual wrapped in the beautiful tallit (prayer shawl) that davetrow gave me, singing silently to the Spirit in Hebrew, or maybe Spirit is singing to me in Mozart. Whatever, my thoughts are all music and my breath has gotten slower and more yogic. Sometimes meetings center down into rich, deep silence. You can never tell what may arise then. This time, it was a whole series of ministries of the more-or-less-specifically Christian flavor, except for a woman who talks in free-verse poetry about the divinity in nature.

One of these was a newcomer, and I always have this jolt of transition, a moment of uncertainty as I shift from inner music to listening with my outer ears. In the years I've been attending, there have been a number of times when people wander in off the street, Bibles clutched prominently, then get up and shout at us about redemption from sin and depart afterward posthaste, before any of us can speak with them. Too, we as a meeting have been struggling with how to deepen worship without censoring or judging ministry.

So this middle-aged man gets up and begins speaking in the sermonic mode. A thought had been noodling around in back of my brain, not yet rising to ministry, about the coinciding this year of Passover and Easter and how each reminds us of a remarkable event, an iconic event in each tradition. Each, need I say, equally improbable but deeply resonant and meaningful.

So my response to this man, speaking so earnestly about loving "The Lord" and living a righteous life and taking care of one another as Jesus bade him, was what Friends call tender. I don't think of Spirit that way, I receive the mitzvot as loving affirmations, not marching orders, and I usually resist being lectured with considerable ferocity. Today, however, I was able to hold him in the Light, to listen to the passion and compassion behind his words, and to appreciate that we each experience The Great Mystery in our own unique way, even if we share a teaching and a tradition. I perceived what an amazing gift it was for this man to share with us -- with me -- his experience of holiness.