NATURE THEOLOGY

Plunging Into Worship, by Christie Gibbons, October 3, 2003

“Plunge into My ocean of love. Sink into its depths and rise in buoyant faith…the souls who strike out and swim, willing to give themselves, their treasures, their traits of character to Me, find themselves fresh, renewed in My life.”1

I took my first plunge into worship by attending a weekly Quaker Friends meeting because I had no prior experience with Quaker anything…except the oats. J  It would be self-gratifying to say that I went into this worship experience with no preconceived notions or stereotypes about this unknown group, but alas, I am imperfectly human and I admit that on the car ride there, I had a difficult time not imagining myself on my way to meet with a group full of pious pilgrims sitting in a circle with stoic faces in an East Coast setting.

When we arrived at the home where the meeting was to take place, we joined a group of about fifteen people who were sitting in a circle on chairs and pillows under an oak tree, but unlike my previously imagined image of them, they were quite normal. The group was comprised of people of all different ages and exteriors. Joining the circle began the “centering” part of the meeting. Everyone sat in silence for about forty-five minutes, although, these being “not programmed” meetings, the amount of time spent centering varies from meeting to meeting. During this time, each person was free to meditate, relax, pray, or center in whatever manner they deemed appropriate or comfortable. For some, this meant lounging in lawn chairs with hands folded on their abdomens with eyes closed, or sitting quietly with hands held out with palms up, as if their hands were empty and waiting for fullness. For others, this meant sitting rigidly on a pillow focusing their gaze straight off into the distance ahead of them. For even others, it was a time to read (the Quaker Newsletter, the Bible). For myself, it was a time to reflect upon the beauty of all that God has created. Being outside, sitting on green grass under a flourishing oak tree with wind distorting the high-pitched trilling of Cicadas, was a superb location for “centering.” This was the longest, and perhaps the most important part, of the meeting. It functions as a time for each individual to center himself or herself, to get in touch with the inner light that Quakers believe every human has. I would interpret this centering time as getting the junk of the world out and letting God’s peace and light seep in. (I wrote God, but this particular Quaker Friends group is not comprised of people that all profess to believe and trust in the Judeo-Christian God. They are an “open” group, not affiliating themselves with any particular faith.)

Because the God-picture in this particular Quaker group’s tradition is so ambiguous, I had a difficult time, distinguishing whether or not they sense God as being near or far from human existence. Although, from what I have pieced together from talking with the various group members about the inner light, I say that they would agree with Mircea Eliade’s idea of the sanctification of life, in which he states:

[L]ife is lived on a twofold plane; it takes its course as human existence and, at the same time, shares in a transhuman life, that of the cosmos or the gods. 2

So, they seem to hold a pan-en-theistic view, which holds that God, the High Power, the Creator, is in all and we are in God. For some present, it may have been a more pan-theistic experience, where God is all. It was hard to tell due to the diversity of the group. This evidences a flaw in my thinking that all members of a particular group or congregation of worshippers have completely coinciding beliefs…lesson learned.

The “sharing” part of the meeting began when one of the group members felt “moved” to break the silence. At this time, everyone went around the circle and said his or her name and shared something; announcements, joys, fears, revelations, etc. As soon as everyone in the circle had shared at least their name, everyone stood up and went inside for a potluck. Having a meal together was an extenuation of the worship and the togetherness that was apparent in the meeting. There was no break between worship and fellowship. I found it of particular interest that no music was played and no worship songs were sung. My slight awkwardness due to the lack of music during the transitions, from centering to sharing and then from sharing to eating, forced me to ponder the function of music in every single worship service I had previously attended, asking myself: Is music often used as filler or mood-creator within worship services? I carried this question into my next two worship visits.

My second worship experience was my visit to the Church of Saint Dominic. We attended the 8 a.m. mass. Much of the service included traditional hymns. After the presentation of the gospel lesson, we sang a “Gospel Acclamation.” Following this was the Eucharist. Knowing that only Catholics are welcome to partake, we stayed behind in our pew. Three Eucharistic acclamation hymns were sung after all had received the wine and the bread, as if to, in some way, validate or finalize the experience. After this came the offering, which was collected while two women sang into microphones at the front of the church. Somewhere in the midst of all this was a brief sermon given by the priest.

1 Elise Nevins Morgan, Your Own Path, (Boston: Thomas Todd Co. Printers, 1928), 44.

2 Mircea Eliade, The Sacred and the Profane: The Nature of Religion, (NY: Harcourt, Brace & World, Inc.), 167.

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THEOLOGY