What’s Your Tag Say?

Look at the tags on your clothing—where are your clothes made?  In China?  Central America?  The US?  Do you have any idea of who made your clothing and what his or (more likely) her life is like?

These are the questions that Kelsey Timmerman (http://whereamiwearing.com/) asked us at Peace Forum on March 24th when he came to speak about his book Where Am I Wearing?  A frequent international traveler, Kelsey wanted to know where his clothing was made and what the lives of garment workers are really like.  At Peace Forum, he shared stories of the people he met in garment factories and ideas about we can be thoughtful consumers of clothing.  The stories speak for themselves: In Bangladesh Kelsey met a mother who made only $25 a month and had to send her eldest son to work in the Middle East in order to make enough money to live on.  He met a couple in China who has not seen their son for 3 years because they work 100 hours a week at a garment factory.  As he explained to us, China’s workweek is limited to 42 hours, but factory owners simply tell workers that they must clock out and keep working . . . or new workers will replace them.  We also heard the story of a woman in Cambodia who earns $50 a month as a garment worker.  While $50 is enough to support a single person in Cambodia, she supports 10 family members with this wage.

Kelsey’s writing is focused more on educated people about the consequences of their choices rather than suggesting a specific path they should take.  Strongly believing myself that the answer usually lies not in extremes but in balance, I appreciate this approach.  Kelsey makes it clear that there are no easy answers, but clothing choice is an ethical decision and consumers should make a conscious choice.

The “what ifs” are endless and not very encouraging: If Americans buy only US-made goods, foreign garment workers risk losing their jobs.  If workers demand higher wages, cost of production rises and American companies may look to other countries and other factories to fill their orders.  If American clothing companies offer slightly more expensive “fair-trade” items, they raise a simple question: “well if these jeans are made by workers getting a living wage . . . how are your other jeans made?”  Additionally, inspecting and certifying garment factories raises a whole host of issues about accountability and standards (for an example, see organic farming).  In the end, Kelsey suggests that consumers ask questions about where their clothing comes from, explore organizations that produce clothing at a living wage (see his website for a list), and make it clear to companies that they care about these issues.
Perhaps the best thing he pointed out to us is that sweatshops are not necessarily bad.  Timmerman visited a garment factory in Cambodia, but also visited the city dump, where people looked through trash to find recyclables.  Is working long hours in a garment factory better than digging through a dump? These jobs are a blessing for many workers, and sometimes a garment factory job in bad conditions or long hours is the difference between a family living and starving.

The speaker was preceded by a meditation on the Triangle Shirtwaist Factory fire, which took place March 25th, 1911 (http://money.cnn.com/2011/03/24/news/Triangle_fire_centennial/index.htm?hpt=C1).  Seminary students read the names of all 146 people who died.  It was a sobering way to begin a presentation, although uplifting to think of the improvements in laws around organizing workers and demanding fair wage and good working conditions made after this tragedy.  The presentation was an important reminder that not every country has similar laws in place, and that we practice our ethics by how we choose to spend our money.

So, what is your clothes-buying philosophy?  If you had unlimited money (ha!), how would your habits change?  How do our spending habits relate to our (Christian) ethics?  What do you think ideal should happen with garment factories as globalization continues?  Are there areas other than clothing where you feel that your faith leads you to particular consumer decisions?

For myself, I buy clothing as infrequently as possible and frankly don’t worry too much about where it comes from.  I should.  Most of the “fair wages” kind of clothing I’ve seen out there does not fit my body well and is not suitable for working in a professional environment.  Given this, I appreciate Kelsey’s acknowledgement that garment factories in and of themselves are not evil, and agree that I would be willing to pay more for my clothing if I knew that money went directly to the workers.  Thoughts?

Valerie Hurwitz is Director of Recruitment and Admissions at Earlham School of Religion. She lives in Richmond, Indiana and serves as choir director at West Richmond Friends Meeting.

Voices from the ESR Access Community (Part 1)

 

By Valerie Hurwitz

 

In January, I asked some of our Access students attending the January intensive courses to talk about their classes. The results were illuminating, as people talked about how their classes challenged them and open their eyes to new ways of looking at things.  The May intensive is coming up, May 16-27. For Access students or residential students who attend intensives, do you have any tips for taking intensive courses, travel, or comments on the videos? Anyone planning on coming to the May intensive? What class do you plan on taking?

 

Angelina Carpenter (Knoxville, TN)

 

 

Kevin Ring (Lynchburg, VA)

 

 

Patty Willis (Amado, Arizona)

 

Valerie Hurwitz is Director of Recruitment and Admissions at Earlham School of Religion. She lives in Richmond, Indiana and serves as choir director at West Richmond Friends Meeting.

An Invitation to Quaker Spring

By Deborah Haines

Have you heard about Quaker Spring?

For the past four summers, Quaker Spring (formerly called QuakerCamp) has been held in Barnesville, Ohio. This year we will be gathering on the campus of the Meeting School in Rindge, New Hampshire, from Friday, June 17 through Wednesday, June 22. Everyone is welcome!

So, what is Quaker Spring? It’s an opportunity for Friends to come together to sit at the feet of the Inward Teacher, to explore the inward landscape, to listen to the winds of the Spirit. We have worship and Bible study in the morning, time in the afternoon for conversation (or play, or rest), and evenings devoted to group discernment. Often there’s singing, or dancing, or picnicking. It’s a time to rejoice in God’s goodness, and to know each other in that which is eternal.

To some extent, Quaker Spring grew out of my personal frustration with the frenetic pace of the Friends General Conference Gathering. I love lots of things about the Gathering, but it’s enormously complicated. It requires the work of several staff people, which makes it expensive, and hundreds of volunteers, which makes it very busy. Why so much programming, when all God requires of us is to be present in love?

So a group of us decided to try something different: a simple, inexpensive Quaker gathering with no workshops, no plenary speakers, no staff, as little overhead as possible, and lots of time to be present to each other and to God. It would be an informal, worship-centered version of the FGC Gathering, a time to find out what Spirit-led Quakerism is all about.

For our setting, we chose Barnesville, Ohio, where we could worship in Ohio Yearly Meeting’s Stillwater meetinghouse, camp out, or sleep in the dorms of Olney Friends School, eat in the school cafeteria, and take long walks through the woods and pastures. We planned just enough of a daily schedule to provide an underlying rhythm for our time together. We wanted to create a framework that would gently remind us not to get lost in busyness, but to look deeper, and to experience the spaciousness of God’s time.

I think we called it “Quaker Camp” because of my memories of a weekend I spent in the woods with a group of Girl Scout leaders years ago. There was really nothing to do all weekend but cook meals and take walks. It was beautiful. There was time enough for everything, and time to spare. It helped me rediscover the joy of simply being alive.

But many people seemed to interpret “camp” as “highly organized activity for children,” which wasn’t what we intended at all, although families are most welcome. In 2009, we decided we needed another name. During deep worship together we found ourselves drawn to a passage from the writings of George Fox that grabbed at my heart when I first read it years ago:

“For there is the flock lying down at noonday, and the feeding of the bread of life, and drinking of the springs of life, when they do not speak words…”

We chose the name Quaker Spring. There is rest for the weary, comfort for the lost and the lonely, nourishment for the faint of heart, living water for the thirsting soul. There is total, trustful dependence on God for everything we need.

I think I used to imagine the flock at rest as a covenant community of the faithful. Maybe I was hoping to find my true flock at Quaker Camp. But the experience of Quaker Camp/Quaker Spring has helped me understand that I am not personally called to covenant community, although others may be. It has been laid on me that I am not to choose who should or should not belong to my flock.

My own meeting, fractious as it is, is my beloved flock, and so is Quaker Spring, and so is any other group I find myself worshiping with. God does the gathering. All we have to do (the challenge and the joy) is to stop running around bleating at each other and simply settle down in the presence of the living Christ. We can experience that blessed rest anytime, anywhere, if we are willing.

A few years ago I was troubled to hear a valued Friend complain that worship in her meeting didn’t feed her soul. I prayed and worried about it and eventually came to two conclusions. First, complaining is fundamentally incompatible with worship. And second, we come to worship to learn from the Inward Teacher who knows our every need. If we are not being fed in meeting, it may be that we are not attending to the One who is right there among us, holding out to us the Bread of Life.

These two understandings—that complaining undermines worship, and that we need to attend to the Inward Teacher instead of relying on each other’s wisdom—are deeply woven into the expectations of Quaker Spring. We do not come together to tell each other the truth as we conceive it, but to invite everyone into the place where truth is revealed. We do not come to find a refuge from Quaker meetings we find unsatisfying. We come simply for the joy of being together in the presence of God.

Is Quaker Spring a Christian Quaker gathering? Christian-Universalist might be closer, although theology is really not the point. To me, Christ is the Word spoken at the moment of creation, the Light that lights everyone coming into the world, the manifestation of God wherever we find it. In my experience, God’s love is infinite and all-inclusive; it is no more possible to step outside the circle of God’s love than it is to step outside the universe. As John Woolman said:

“There is a principle which is pure, placed in the human mind, which in different places and ages hath had different names…. It is deep and inward, confined to no forms of religion nor excluded from any, where the heart stands in perfect sincerity.”

There are Christ-centered Friends who might find Quaker Spring a challenge because we do not define a circle that bounds us. There are liberal Friends who might find it a challenge because the living Christ, whom some call Jesus and some call Light, is indisputably the foundation stone.

Quaker Spring is intended for those who are willing to go deeper than words, to set aside judgment for a time, and simply experience God’s mercy. “For he maketh his sun to rise on the evil and on the good, and sendeth rain on the just and on the unjust….Be ye therefore perfect as your Father in Heaven is perfect.” Who are we to judge? Why not just gather in contentment and humility, to see what Spirit has to teach us?

So Quaker Spring is open to everyone. Come if you are weary, or thirsty, or lost, or full of the joy of spiritual discovery and longing to share. During this week there will be time enough and time to spare. As Kenyan Friends like to say: God is good (All the time); All the time (God is good).

Deborah Haines is clerk of Alexandria Monthly Meeting, Baltimore Yearly Meeting. She was one of the founding organizers of Quaker Spring in 2007. She serves on Quaker Spring’s ongoing planning committee.

Some Thoughts on Rieger and the Austrians

A partial review of Joerg Rieger's No Rising Tide

By Matt Hisrich

In preparation for the 2011 Willson Lectures at ESR I tracked down and have been reading a copy of Joerg Rieger’s book No Rising Tide: Theology, Economics, and the Future. I have been interested in the ideas of liberation theology since my days at ESR, where I wrestled with the work of Gustavo Gutiérrez. Whereas Gutiérrez and others such as Leonardo Boff represent what could be deemed the “first generation” of liberation theologians, Rieger and Jung Mo Sung are examples of a resurgence of activity around the core ideas of liberation theology – an intriguing development all on its own.

Aside from a general interest in matters of theology, part of my interest in liberation theology generally has to do with its explicit effort to connect economic concepts to faith. Having a background in economics and public policy before coming to ESR and continuing to seek out and address the intersections of these disciplines during and since I cannot help but be drawn to the work of Rieger and others engaged in similar work. What is of particular interest to me in the work of both Rieger and Sung, however, are their comments regarding the Austrian School of Economics. I first became acquainted with the ideas of the Austrian School in high school and it was these ideas that led me to study economics in undergrad and explore the overlaps with theology in seminary.

Now, I should preface all of the thoughts I am about to share with a number of caveats:

1) While I have come across Rieger’s work in several different contexts I have not completed a thorough analysis of his whole body of research and therefore these comments are limited to the contents of No Rising Tide alone;

2) I think both the general principles of liberation theology and how those are employed within the work of specific theologians and in specific texts such as No Rising Tide merit a much broader consideration but I will attempt to limit my comments here to Rieger’s discussion of the Austrian School only;

3) I am sympathetic to his critique of empire and have benefitted from spending time with his book; but

4) Just as I have found a theological home in Quakerism, I have found an economic home in the Austrian School, and these positions necessarily inform my understanding and color my analysis; and, finally

5) I am neither a professional economist nor a professional theologian and so I enter into this discussion knowing that I may well be in over my head.

So, what can be said about Rieger’s discussion of the Austrian School in No Rising Tide? In short, while his presentation of the Austrian School is important to the overall structure of his argument (as with Sung’s in Desire, Market and Religion), it nonetheless requires a fundamental distortion of the ideas of the Austrian School that unfortunately weakens his argument and reveals a lack of familiarity with important concepts in economic thought that are essential to Rieger’s project of critiquingfree-market economics.

Here is why:

- Rieger sets up an “us v. them” dynamic in attacking what he defines as mainstream economics and praising what he defines as heterodox economics – from institutionalism to Marxism. According to his interpretation, every school that he sees as questioning markets is heterodox and therefore offers something positive while any school that he sees as generally supporting markets – from Austrian to Chicago – is mainstream and therefore problematic. This creates two problems for Rieger. First, it puts him in an awkward position with regard to Keynesian economics (which I would argue holds far more sway in contemporary economic thought and public policy than he seems to feel it does). This is because Keynesians essentially seek to use the tools of state intervention to save capitalism from itself because left to its own devices it will destroy itself, and Keynesian economics and neoclassical economics have in many regards merged. Is such a position one that supports or questions markets? The ambiguity is clear in Rieger’s comments. Second, it forces him to conflate schools of thought that are not nearly as compatible as he would seem to suggest – namely the neoclassical and Austrian Schools, the latter of which is generally considered a heterodox school outside of Rieger’s analysis.

- At this point, it would be fair to ask why Rieger (and Sung) include a discussion of the relatively small Austrian School at all. This is an important point. Much of what Rieger criticizes with regard to empire and market has a lot more to do with a mercantilist hybrid of state and business interests, not with truly free markets (the same could also be said of more popular theologians such as John Dominic Crossan).  But whether Rieger fails to understand this distinction or chooses to ignore it for the sake of his argument, what he appears to want to critique in the book is free markets and not mercantilism. Unfortunately, schools of economic thought that advocate for genuinely free-market positions are few and far between. To accomplish this goal he must employ the Austrians for the sake of rhetorical power alone, using their words as a stand-in for what he wishes genuinely mainstream neoclassical economists would actually have said.

- It is possible that Rieger’s understanding of the Austrian School lacks sufficient depth to fully comprehend the distinction, for it is clear that he draws from only one economist from the school (Friedrich Hayek) to represent the whole, and he even goes so far as to use Capitalism for Beginners as a source for one of his Hayek quotes. Setting aside developments in the school since the era of Hayek, that one can bring in a discussion of the Austrian School without even mentioning its central figure, Ludwig von Mises, is telling. Just to provide one example of how Mises might have informed Rieger’s analysis, here is a quote from No Rising Tide: “A deregulated economy has been allowed to produce an imperial bubble where the stock market, the housing market, and the lending sector built forms of power that were more and more disconnected from real values and real life;” and one from Mises’s Human Action, “Nothing harmed the cause of liberalism more than the almost regular return of feverish booms and of the dramatic breakdown of bull markets followed by lingering slumps. Public opinion has become convinced that such happenings are inevitable in the unhampered market economy. People did not conceive that what they lamented was the necessary outcome of policies directed toward a lowering of the rate of interest by means of credit expansion. They stubbornly kept to these policies and tried in vain to fight their undesired consequences by more and more government interference.” Nonetheless, even working with Hayek alone it should become clear that the system Rieger seeks to attack as a tragically deregulated market bears little resemblance to what Hayek understands as a market free from state intervention. As Hayek commented in 1935, “[I]t is a fallacy to suppose capitalism as it exists today is the alternative. We are certainly as far from capitalism in its pure form as we are from any system of central planning. The world of today is just interventionist chaos."

To close, I do think that liberation theology adds to the richness of the theological landscape and should not be ignored as such. Nonetheless, as a proponent of this view Rieger would be more convincing if he displayed a greater depth of economic knowledge. In particular, if he chooses to single out particular schools for criticism, it would behoove him to devote significant attention to the origins and contributions of those schools if he seeks to level effective critiques. Austrian economists have contributed much to the study of how war, oppression, and poverty are connected to naïve or intentional use of state power for supposedly positive ends. That Rieger finds it necessary to ignore these contributions in order to advance his thesis ought to be of concern to anyone seeking to think through how economies can or should function in light of ethical standards and Christian faith. If readers are interested in a critique of Austrian economics from a faith perspective, I would recommend Charles McDaniel’s God & Money: The Moral Challenge of Capitalism. While I don’t agree with his conclusions, it is clear the McDaniel spent considerable time trying to understand and confront the core ideas of the school.

Having spent some time with Rieger’s written work, I am looking forward to the chance to hear him in person at ESR this April. I have no doubt it will be an interesting discussion!

Matt Hisrich is the Ministerial Advocate for Indiana Yearly Meeting. He lives in Richmond, Indiana, with his wife and two daughters, and is a member of First Friends Meeting there. Matt is a graduate of Hillsdale College in Michigan and ESR, where he received his MDiv in teaching and theology. Prior to enrolling in seminary, he worked with non-profit public policy organizations in Indiana, Kansas, and Ohio.

Preparing Leaders to Think Theologically

By Jay Marshall

In an increasingly diverse world, how can theological education prepare leaders to work spiritually and practically with people from different backgrounds and different faiths?

Theological education forms how one views God, self, others, and the world. Even more, it shapes how one understands the interactions between each of these participants within life’s sandbox. I think that may be the most powerful contribution theological education makes to the preparation of leaders. Skills are important, but framing how we perceive, critique, and reflect, informs one’s decisions and consequently, one’s actions.

At least four questions underlie this one about a leader’s work with diversity, and the answers given to the four will greatly determine how the one may be answered. Those four are: What is the purpose of theological education? What is a leader’s work? How does leadership intersect with spirituality and practicality? How do we conceive of relationships with the “other?”

There is no one, universal answer to the question of how to offer theological education. Some programs exist to promote the doctrine of a particular denomination. Others wrestle with theological questions with an academic thrust apart from connection to a living faith tradition. Of course, there are a myriad of positions between those two poles. Two key elements of theological education at ESR are rooted firmly within our accreditation standards: spiritual formation of the student, and development of an awareness of context. As those two intertwine, theological education invests much energy into helping students come to know themselves and to become clear on their place and stance within the culture. One facet of the process involves introducing students to people, classmates, readings, and practices that have or represent different points of view than that of the students. A valuable outcome of engaging with different viewpoints is, in addition to learning about a different tradition, we come to know ourselves more truly. As those knowledge bases are honed alongside one’s understanding of God, theological education ultimately helps those it forms to live with integrity of conviction.

Conviction, though, can be an unstable element in the equation. Perhaps it is usually or even always an unstable element. Conviction drives the one convicted. This can create volatility—not necessarily a bad thing, though when it seeks to convince by domination or suppression, conviction may cross the line of acceptable behavior if being respectful of divergent points of view is to be valued. While the expression of conviction can create tension, coming to the point of knowing one’s own convictions is a useful, even essential, process as part of theological education.  I am of the opinion that the better we understand our own reasons for being persons of faith and the truths we hold, the less troubled we are by lack of uniformity in the beliefs of others (unless we stake out an exclusivist position in which only one way, and of course by “one” we mean “our” way is holy enough gain Divine acceptance). When we can finally sit with the unanswerable questions without fear, fight, or flight, our need for neatly gift-wrapped answers decreases, as does the unease created when others’ beliefs do not match our own. Having reached a place of internal knowing, we can articulate our point of view while allowing space for others to do the same. This is a position of confidence and strength, but appropriately humble as well; even as we know why we think as we do and are convinced of the truth, we are deeply aware of the limits of our knowledge. Pride and arrogance simply aren’t options.

This leads us directly to the second question: “What is the leader’s work?” Simply stated, it is to live with integrity of conviction, according to the gifts given and the calls to ministry received. Good theological education accompanies students’ quests to discern those gifts and hear those calls. Particularly when those gifts take one outside of traditional ministry contexts where the work has a specific “religious” nature, the intersection of leadership with spirituality can become more complex. In conversations with students in classes on leadership, one hurdle to always be crossed is broadening the view of faith within leadership as something other than religious jargon or pietistic expressions that sometimes seem disingenuous. It is a conversation that typically moves the participants to consider issues of authority, communication, relationships, and values. Once those are considered as integral to formation and expression of faith--as lived spirituality--then spirituality and practicality are virtually inseparable. A leader’s work in the world is always, on the most basic level, an expression of his or her spirituality.

This connects with the fourth question: How do we conceive of relationships with the “other?” By other, I mean those of different faith backgrounds and faiths. The answer to this question connects tightly with the nature of the theological education one receives. Theological education, remember, considers spiritual formation of the student to be an essential part of the educational process. The assumptions held and transmitted by the educators will be extremely influential in shaping the minds, hearts, and ministries of its graduates. If the curriculum is rooted in an exclusivist point of view, it is entirely conceivable that theological education may not prepare persons to work with diverse backgrounds and faiths at all (allowing, of course, that in these contexts students might take a contrarian position and move to a dissenting position).

Exclusivist perspectives might refuse to work with those of differing points of view. Or, they may work with them; having in mind that the ultimate goal is to convert the other to their point of view (conviction running rampant!). A more inclusive outcome, and preferable given my own set of convictions, is that the theologically formed leader who offers her or his ministry with some degree of confidence and conviction is able to engage in God’s work alongside whomever is encountered along the way. With clarity of belief and truthfulness, with awareness of those points on the horizon where clouds of unknowing are most dense, well-formed leaders are capable of making their contribution alongside a variety of partners. They find common ground, staring simply with their humanity and their sharing of space in God’s creation. From there, in most cases, respectful conversation will divulge shared values that provide a place to stand in unity without compromising integrity. Except in the most extreme circumstances, that is usually sufficient to allow good, faithful, collaborative work to unfold without threatening diversity or undermining particularity.

Jay Marshall is Dean of Earlham School of Religion and a native of North Carolina. Before beginning his service at ESR, he was a pastor in Western Yearly Meeting.

Reasons Quakers Don’t Read the Bible

By Paul Buckley

Originally published as the introduction in Buckley, Paul, ed., The Quaker Bible Reader (Richmond: Earlham School of Religion Publications), 2006.  Used with permission of the author and publisher.

Modern Quakers do not neglect books in general.  Professionally, Friends are found in academic and other intellectual professions well out of proportion to their numbers in the population.  In any moderately sized collection of Quakers, there is likely to be at least one librarian.  Nor are Friends uninterested in spiritual matters.  A quick review of the materials offered in the various Quaker bookstores reveals long lists of books on spirituality, Quaker biography, other religious biographies, devotionals, guides to spiritually-based social action, and a variety of religious study materials for all ages.  But listening to conversations, especially among more liberal Friends, might give the impression that more copies are sold of the Gnostic gospels than those of Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John.

While the Bible used to enjoy a privileged position in the English-speaking world, today’s world is vastly different.  Even beyond the constant and unavoidable impingements of non-print media in our lives, the competition for a reader’s attention is enormous.  Our lives are flooded with books, newspapers, magazines, catalogs, mail, email, text-messages, and more.  In modern America, discarded print material is the single largest source of consumer garbage.  As a spiritual resource, the Bible competes with abundant other sources, from traditional writings to the products of self-help gurus.  Within the category of sacred works, the Bible now shares shelf space with the scriptures of other religions.  This diminished role makes itself apparent in everyday life.  While in the seventeenth century, scriptural quotes and allusions were the commonplace of daily conversation and literary works, today’s popular culture recycles lines from songs, jingles, slogans, and advertising.

Competition with other resources aside, however, I believe one of the principal reasons many Friends do not read the Bible is they do not have any idea how to approach the Bible as Quakers.  Some have never been introduced to it.  Other may have learned at an earlier time in their lives to read the Bible in a particular way.  For various reasons, they have come to reject that way of reading and, in rejecting the interpretation, they have thrown the text out with it.

Many people had their first encounter with the Bible in a Sunday School (or, as Quakers call it, a First Day School) class.  In this setting, the stories are reformulated to present a simple lesson for a young mind.  Complexity is rooted out, and a single, simple message—appropriate to a child’s understanding—is emphasized.  Only a small sampling of the whole is presented: Adam and Eve, the flood, Moses parting the sea, and Jesus feeding thousands with a few loaves and fishes are popular; Joshua conquering the Canaanites and the vivid images of the Apocalypse are not.  There are implicit or explicit theological assumptions underlying the selection and rewording of the Bible stories, but these are invisible to a child.  In fact, a young child hearing a Bible story is not likely to be taught that there is any interpretation involved.  Children do not interpret stories, they just listen to them.  It would never occur to them to deconstruct Dr. Suess, so why should they treat Bible stories any differently?  As he or she grows, such hidden assumptions may or may not become more apparent.  In any case, they are often very different from the theological assumptions and beliefs that an older child or adult holds.  For some, it is easy to believe that, just as they no longer read picture books, they have likewise outgrown the Bible.

Other Friends learned to read scripture within another faith community before coming into our Society.  This may mean reading the Bible as literally and infallibly true or as a book to be understood only in the light of church traditions and teachings.  (Being brought up Catholic, I fall into the latter category.)  The distinction between the words of scripture and the meanings ascribed to those words is often lost.  Leaving ones spiritual community for another entails giving up certain beliefs, perhaps including those about how to read scripture.  Where text and interpretation have been thoroughly entwined, it may seem to a newly-convinced Quaker that the Bible can no longer speak to his or her spiritual condition.  The God who directed the flood (at least as they were previously taught) cannot be the God who leads them to embrace the Peace Testimony.

Special attention is due to those you tell you that they have “wounded by scripture.”  I have frequently heard women, people of color, poor people, gay men, and lesbians refer to instances when various passages have been used to attack, demean, and belittle them.  Over the years, the Bible’s words have been used to justify verbal, spiritual, emotional, and physical violence.  These attacks do not always issue from the mouths of bigots or intransigent reactionaries, but may come from loving, kind people who were taught “the right way to read the Bible.”  In response, many of those who have felts so assaulted have denied the validity of the claims made in the name of the Bible.  Others, however, accept their attackers’ interpretation as a true reflection of the scriptures themselves.  They then see themselves as faced with a stark choice: to deny themselves or to deny the validity of the book.  It is no surprise that many of these people have chosen to turn away from the scripture.

Others see the Bible as no more than a set of legends and fables, offering insight into the minds of an ancient people and a foreign culture—much like Beowulf or Aesop’s Fables.  The Bible presents western civilization’s myths, but for truth about the world we live in, they turn to science.  Or they may look at the rich variety of other spiritual books and question the special status accorded to the Bible.  Why, they ask, grant it pride of place instead of reading the Koran or the Upanishads or the sacred works of the Druids?

The Goal of This Book*

It may be useful at this point to introduce one technical term: hermeneutics.  Every time someone tells a Bible story, they are engaged—consciously or not—in interpretation.  There is a set of rules that they use to ferret out the meaning of a text.  For example, while “serpent” may just be a fancy name for a snake, to many people the serpent that tempted Eve into eating forbidden fruit is more than a common snake—but what?  Some will tell you the serpent is a devil in disguise.  This interpretation contributes to and supports a particular meaning for the story.  Others consider the role of the serpent as minor and come to different conclusions.  Each set of rules—implicit or explicit, known of subconscious—constitutes what Bible scholars call hermeneutics.

There is no one set of Quaker hermeneutics.  As well be seen in the chapters that follow, there are a number of techniques and approaches to understanding scripture that are consistent with Quaker beliefs and practices.  I hope that this book will provide readers with a sense of the varieties of Quaker hermeneutics—assorted, Friendly ways to read and understand scripture.  But this isn’t the goal of the book.  As Manuel Guzman-Martinez says, “Unfortunately, no one learns in someone else’s shoes.”  Our goal is to help you find your own shoes and put them on.

Find the “Quaker Hermeneutics” that speak to your spiritual condition may allow you to engage the Bible in an honest conversation.  Then you, too, can do “Quaker exegesis”—not passively accepting someone else’s interpretation; not looking for “the good parts” and skipping the rest; not contorting scripture to support predetermined ideas—but entering into a dialogue with this ancient book, exploring your own assumptions about God, and deepening your relationship with the divine.  In the process, I believe you will also come to have a more grounded understanding of who Quakers are and why we believe what we believe.

*(A note from the bloggers--this piece was originally the introduction to an anthology of essays on different ways modern Quakers read the Bible, a purpose clearly referenced in this section.  We have left references to this larger context because keeping the original words and intent seemed better than extensive editing.)

Paul Buckley is a writer and translator of Quaker thought. His book Twenty-First Century William Penn has made Penn accessible to many, and he is the editor of the recently re-published Journal of Elias Hicks.

The Bible Among Friends

By Paul Buckley

Originally published as the introduction in Buckley, Paul, ed., The Quaker Bible Reader (Richmond: Earlham School of Religion Publications), 2006.  Used with permission of the author and publisher.

For many Friends, the Bible is a lost resource.  They don’t read it, and they don’t miss it.  This is not a new situation—complaints that too few Friends read or know scripture have been heard consistently for at least the last two-hundred years.  For example, more then fifty years ago, Henry Cadbury, a Quaker and one of the twentieth century’s great biblical scholars, decried this condition in an address at Guilford College.

In some ways, this is a surprising situation.  Friends in the seventeenth century were devoted to their Bibles.  Early Quaker writings seem at times to consist of little more than stringing together selected bits of scripture.  George Fox, founder of the Religious Society of Friends, knew scripture so well that Gerard Croese, in his 1696 book, The General History of the Quakers, makes the claim that “though the Bible were lost, it might be found in the Mouth of George Fox.”  Early Friends, of course, were not unique in their love of the scriptures.  Three hundred and fifty years ago, the Bible was the pre-eminent book in the English-speaking world.  For many people, it was the only readily accessible book and it profoundly influenced views of life, society, history, politics, and the world.  George Fox was far from unique in committing it to memory.
Despite this intimate familiarity with the Bible, the tension between roles of immediate revelation and of the scripture had been present from the very earliest beginning of the Quaker movement.  In the section of his Journal devoted to 1648, George Fox wrote:

I was to direct people to the Spirit that gave forth the Scriptures, by which they might be led into all Truth, and so up to Christ and God, as they had been who gave them forth.  … I saw that the grace of God, which brings salvation, had appeared to all men, and that the manifestation of the Spirit of God was given to every man to profit withal.  These things I did not see by the help of man, nor by the letter, though they are written in the letter, but I saw them in the light of the Lord Jesus Christ, and by his immediate Spirit and power… for I was in that Spirit by which they [the scriptures] were given forth, and what the Lord opened to me I afterwards found was agreeable to them.  I could speak much of these things and many volumes might be written but all would prove too short … (p. 34)

Fox is claiming immediate revelation for himself and declaring his mission to be directing all people to know it in themselves.  The final sentence makes it clear that these revelations are more than a mere reiteration of the recorded scriptures.  At the same time, he acknowledges that afterward he found that what had been revealed to him was “agreeable” with scripture.  This formulation—continuing revelation that does not contradict (but may go beyond) the Bible became the Quaker norm and appears in the writings of many other early Friends.  The evolving structures of gospel order did little to provide precise definitions of what was agreeable and what contradicted scripture.  In general, it was left to subgroups within the Society—monthly, quarterly, and yearly meetings—to deal with individual cases.  This process led to a degree of local conformity, but no Society-wide standard.

This tension remained unresolved at the beginning of the nineteenth century.  If anything, the cracks were widening as ideas were absorbed from both the Enlightenment and from other Protestant sects.  The events leading up to painful separations in the Society in 1827-28 prominently featured charges and countercharges over how the Bible was read, how it should be read, and how it was properly interpreted—although not over its ultimate status among Friends.  Of course, each side claimed proper use for themselves and charged serious error on the part of their opponents.

Nor are the 1820s unique in this respect.  Today’s structures, organizations, and practices within the Religious Society of Friends are the product of our history.  It is only a slight exaggeration to say that it is impossible to understand Quaker history without having some understanding of Quaker theology and impossible to understand Quaker theology without knowing something of the Bible.  The peace testimony, the practice of simplicity, both silent workship and the elements of programmed worship, and the other hallmarks of twenty-first century Quaker faith and practice were firmly established on biblical foundations.
Even understanding the ways we speak of ourselves depends on scripture. 

Many contemporary Friends take pleasure in referring to themselves as belonging to a “peculiar people.”  But to say we are “peculiar” is not to claim that we are odd.  The phrase is found in both the Hebrew (Old Testament) and Greek (New Testament) scriptures.  As a Quaker, my favorite example is from the first epistle of Peter, “But ye are a chosen generation, a royal priesthood, an holy nation, a peculiar people; that ye should shew forth the praises of him who hath called you out of darkness into his marvellous light” (1 Peter 2:9).  We Quakers are well acquainted with that “marvellous light.”  This is, of course, the translation in the King James Version of the Bible.  In modern English versions, “peculiar people” is rendered as “a people belonging to God” or “God’s own people.”  To say we are a peculiar people is to claim that the Religious Society of Friends is the chosen people.

Early Friends indeed made this claim, but we shouldn’t think it was a point of pride.  They knew the implications of being God’s people—it may be an honor, but it is much more a responsibility.  To know the elements of that responsibility, you need look no further than the historic Quaker testimonies.  Early Friends described the testimonies as “peculiarities,” but not to suggest these were mere idiosyncrasies.  These are the obligations that God’s people carry.  A person adopted Quaker dress, speech, and practices as an outward sign of submission to God in all things.

Paul Buckley is a writer and translator of Quaker thought. His book Twenty-First Century William Penn has made Penn accessible to many, and he is the editor of the recently re-published Journal of Elias Hicks.