The Quaking Harlot

The world is not my home

2011-08-02T12:20:00.000-05:00

I gave ministry this week towards the end of worship. It had been a popcorn meeting, with insufficient space between political rants about the debt ceiling. But I was called to stand, to add one more voice to the mix before we rose.

I was thinking about home as meeting for worship began. Specifically, I was thinking about how I feel like an outsider in most places in my life. There are a couple of songs that reference the idea that home is something that comes after that rose up for me, one being a Sarah Jarosz cover of a Tom Waits tune, "Come on up to the house", which has the line: "The world is not my home, I'm just passing though". Another was Amazing Grace, with the stanza:

Through many dangers, toils, and snares
have I already come.
'Twas Grace that brought me safe thus far
and Grace shall lead me home.

It's not that uncommon to think about home as being elsewhere, and for me, that sense of home is located pretty firmly in the New Creation. When I was recounting my ministry last night to a friend who had missed Meeting on Sunday, but had heard that I had spoken and asked me about it, I needed to clarify what I meant by the New Creation. What I'm referencing here is a passage from Fox's journal:

Now I was come up in spirit through the flaming sword, into the paradise of God. All things were new; and all the creation gave unto me another smell than before, beyond what words can utter. I knew nothing but pureness, and innocency, and righteousness; being renewed into the image of God by Christ Jesus, to the state of Adam, which he was in before he fell. The creation was opened to me; and it was showed me how all things had their names given them according to their nature and virtue.

Fox had this experience of the paradise of God, of being taken up into the Garden of Eden as it was before the fall. My sense of this is that this is the Kingdom of Heaven and that we can access the Kingdom, through Grace, here on Earth.

My message continued, that as I was sitting in the silence, I was thinking about how I find that those times when I have been permitted to glimpse this paradise, this sense of rightness and pureness are when I have been submissive and obedient to the will of God.

So I did the only thing I could think of. I asked God to give me something to do and almost immediately, it was made clear to me that a small task that was already on my to-do list was a Thing I Needed To Do. Knowing that I had a small, manageable, actionable Thing, as well as knowing that God was listening to me in my time of need made me feel incredible grateful for His Love, for His Presence in my life.

Love,
Elizabeth Bathurst

What can be forgiven.

2011-05-22T19:56:00.002-05:00

I just re-read several old blog posts and was impressed. So, I am publishing something I wrote last July but never posted.

A good F/friend of mine asked me to join the Peace and Social Order committee in the area. The two big meetings in the area are combining forces and it seemed that it would be right to have me sit in as an attender of Old Town. It was interesting to be sitting in a room with people form both area meetings. We had a good discussion of what our purpose is and what we can try to accomplish. The query was, "with limited resources both financial and human, how much can we contribute to issues of social justice and peace."

I, of course, got chastised for bringing in my coffee. Apparently, there is a strict no liquids above ground rule. I had thought of this as I walked into the Meetinghouse, but decided a 9am meeting called for coffee. I know I should respect the cultural differences and mores within different Meetings. However, it is rules like this that visitors won't know. It is also one of those rules I am willing to break. We have liquids all over the Meetinghouse we meeting in, which, is considerable older. Other meetings I have attended do not have such a strict policy. How was I supposed to know? Perhaps, I should have erred on the side of polite discretion and not brought the coffee, but really, is that the worst offense that happens in most meetings--contra-band liquids in off-limits places? Not human ego? Not denying the use of Christ language for those that relate to the Spirit that way? Lack of understanding of Quaker process? Not petty disagreements? Not the passive aggressive way too many Quakers deal with just about everything? General unfriendliness? Resting on our laurels? The loss of younger Quakers and the indifference to it? Okay, BAD Quaker you dared to bring coffee to the Meetinghouse. Shame.

I know what I am about to write will sound very egotistical. However, God keeps whispering it to me. I need to prepare myself. One day, I will be a weighty Friend, an Elder. I will be that person with whom the Spirit of God fills; one who is clothed in Christ. I am far from that now. I am in the temptation and wresting with my day of visitation stage. Yet, things are revealed to me. I believe that I have had my baptism by fire and am completing my inward birth--to be born-again in Christ. It is through his grace that yields my faith, brings humility before the Lord and creation and brings about a reconciliation between me and God, that I may live by faith in his grace.

I am more and more convinced that in our age of individuality we are forgetting the importance of corporal worship. Worship as a corporate living faith, a communion with the Spirit and will those present in the living body of Christ. I know that this may sound incongruent with what I started writing about, however, it is how we live our lives. Until, we can forgive the small and look beyond certain things we cannot heal ourselves or our Quaker communities. If I was where I had been two years ago, the chastising by a Friend about coffee at the Meetinghouse would have made me leave and not seek out Friends for another several months/years. As things stand now, I do go to Meeting on a regular basis. I feel that despite this small transgression it doesn't make me less of a Friend or less welcome in the larger community of Quakers. I know I should respect the culture of a Meeting, but at the same time, it is important to remember the small transgressions can be forgiven…

Well, the world hasn't ended, but it's gonna

2011-05-21T19:35:00.004-05:00

Today is the day that some folks were predicting that the Rapture would happen. I think it was supposed to have happened a couple of hours ago, and, well, I'm still here.

Jesus, when talking about the second coming in the book of Matthew said that we will not be able to predict the timing, but that we would know from the wars (check), earthquakes (check), famines (check). The end times will be filled with distress "unequaled from the beginning of the world until now-- and never to be equaled again." From that point of view, I don't think we're there.

But Fox did. When he was talking about how Christ has come to teach His people Himself? He's talking about the Second Coming. That's right, party people, George Fox was a millenialist. Just like Franklin Graham and Jack Van Impe.

There's a lot of Bible stuff to unpack when it comes to the Day of the Lord, or Judgement Day. There's Old Testament prophecies about the Messiah and the book of Revelation and all sorts of stuff scattered about the rest of the new testament. When it comes right down to it, I really don't know a whole lot about it. I don't know if the Kingdom of Heaven is on Earth, or in our hearts, or what. And to me, it doesn't really matter. I don't need to be a theologian or have a really strong command of the Bible to know that God is Loving and Just. I don't need to be able to tell if the Battle of Armageddon and the Apocolypse are the same thing or not. I know what that still small voice sounds like and I know that I need to be faithful to it and there's really very little else I need.

All that being said, however, if you're reading this and the Rapture HAS happened, would you check on my cats please? I'm too cheap to sign up with eternal-earthbound-pets.com or aftertherapturepetcare.com. Malcolm might be able to fend for himself, but Nigel gets lost in the stairwell sometimes, so I don't have high hopes for him.

Love,
Elizabeth Bathurst

Rapture: The Kingdom of God

2011-05-20T15:58:00.009-05:00

Instead of posting this on the 21st as Elizabeth Bathhurst and I had planned it is a day late. I was busy getting ready for my party (dressing as the Whore of Babylon and being drunk). But I hope you will enjoy it anyway despite the fact I am a Class A Sinner.

I first heard about Family Radio’s May 21st predictions for Judgment day at a bar. I had not yet seen the billboards, bus signs, or internet buzz. A week later at the same bar I was talking with some friends when it was decided that I should have a “Rapture Party” and Housewarming. When I sent out the invite I invited people to dress as something out of the book of Revelations. My friends complained, “You aren’t going to make me read the Bible are you?” “What are you going as?”

I have been collecting information on the May 21st doomsday. I find it all very amusing. From pet care sites, (animals not having souls and all, which if you have met my cats I am pretty sure that is a lie), to wondering what it is to believe something so fervently. After reading more about what those who believe today is doomsday believe will happen, I have decided that there are some things I need to consider:

1. If the Pacific Rim is where it is starting, I need to check the news about 2 am EST—just to be sure.

2. What would the next few months until Sept 21st be like—do I have to go to work?

3. Should I start my party early so we can watch the good people getting raptured and thus know which houses to visit—one of the advantages of living on the edge of a prosperous neighborhood.

The realization that these are my main concerns about the rapture led me to believe that maybe I should not go to my party as “the Beast” but rather the “Whore of Babylon” which is probably a better fit anyway. This is not to say that I truly consider myself a horrible person, just that I am too skeptical to be one of the believers that gets to go to heaven. While I have come to terms with being convinced in Quaker terms, I have a real problem with believing that Jesus Christ is my personal savior. It is between God and I, no one can save me but me through my belief in God.

Like early Friends I believe the Second Coming is now. All we need to do is work towards building the Kingdom of God here on Earth, why wait for just desserts when we can build something amazing here and now? Why worry about heaven or hell, intellectual worries, when we can be building something beautiful and amazing right now with the life we have been given?

Thus, in the context of believers of the May 21st doomsday, righteous Believers, and most Christians, I guess I am just the Whore of Babylon with my cynical views, personal interpretations of Christianity, and cup of abominations and fornication. But really, I am a reluctant and radical Christian.

Causes, Leadings and Membership

2011-04-28T10:24:00.002-05:00

This week, for the Somerville Worship Group that I organize, I'm planning to make the folks who show up talk about their concerns and leadings. We as Friends tend to have causes and I want to make folks examine the language we use surrounding our causes.

For instance, I'm doing the Project Bread Walk for Hunger this weekend. It's a twenty mile walk supporting organizations that are fighting hunger in Massachusetts. I've raised a little over $500. This is something that I feel strongly enough to do, but I wouldn't consider it a leading. My urge to help the poor, in this instance, comes from me. I feel like this is something that I can do to support a good cause and so I'm doing it. It's not interfering with the things that God is asking me to do.

Being involved in my local Meeting, is however, something that God expects of me. Sometimes, like with the Somerville Worship Group, I feel perfectly at ease with. I was asked to cocordinate the group and while I worried a little about the amount of time it might take, I felt that familiar sense of rightness as I agreed. It has been a experience, so far, that is feeding me.

It's good that the Worship Group is feeding me, because some of the other things that I've taken on with the larger Meeting are challenging to me. I'm less sullen about being involved in the Meeting at this point, but I still feel as though being present in all the ways that I am present with this Meeting, (in worship, in committee meetings, etc) is difficult.

You see, my involvement with Friends Meeting at Cambridge is an obligation. Not in the sense that I feel that my spiritual life needs the grounding of regular attendance at Meeting for Worship, although I do. My obligation to THIS particular meeting, one that skews much farther to the liberal side of Friends that I am comfortable with, comes from a clear and distinct leading to minister to and be present with this community.

I've been feeling some niggling about where I hold membership and I feel really uncomfortable about it. I want to retain my memebership in my home Meeting, mostly because of its Conservative affiliation. I feel somewhat convicted that my hesitence to transfer my membership is coming from a place of pride in my Conservative roots. But the truth is, I still feel like an outsider at FMC. I may be doing something at the Meetinghouse about twice a week right now, but I still don't feel like a part of that community. I'm not sure exactly what would. But I know that if this niggling feeling about my membership presists, I'll move forward with the transfer, regardless of my pride and my feeling of disconnection, because what He wants is so much more important than what I want.

Love,

Elizabeth Bathurst

Earthquakes and Sparrows

2011-03-11T11:08:00.001-05:00

As my Facebook wall lights up with updates about the earthquake in Japan and subsequent tsunamis across the Pacific, I feel called to prayer. I am praying for the friends of friends who have not been heard from yet. I am praying for the people of Japan and for all the people who have been affected by natural disasters large and small in recent months.

I'm thinking about the Quaker discussion group I'm going to lead this evening and what sort of Bible readings I'm going to bring to them. As I reread those sections in the gospels where Jesus is talking about how God looks after the birds and how we're worth more than birds. I'm looking at different passages and translations and my mind is captivated with the sort of duality of the message: we are not to worry about feeding, clothing, and housing ourselves, because it is the state of our souls that is important, yet we are to be concerned with feeding, clothing and housing the poor.

I am against war, torture and the death penalty. I believe that each life is precious and irreplaceable. I'm not totally convinced that there is an afterlife and I'm pretty sure if there is that there isn't an eternal firey pit of hell to be avoided. All that being said, I think that our lives are but a brief moment in the life of God and that the treasures of heaven and the Kingdom of God are so much more valuable than your life on earth, or mine.

Fortunately, I believe that there are many ways to get right with God and access the Kingdom and that those paths are designed and lit by a Guide that is too holy for any human mind to fully comphrehend. I am comforted by the idea that God loves us, loves the true, important parts of us, ie, our souls, and while our bodies and buildings may perish, our souls are held in his hands like the sparrows Christ spoke of to the disiples when he walked among us in a fragile body like ours.

Love,

Elizabeth Bathurst

I walk the line

2010-06-17T08:12:00.002-05:00

Where do you draw the line at christian charity, that of god in others, and safety? As a single woman in this day and age this is a question I have wrestled with before. However, in the last few months I have been presented with several instances where I have had to make those decisions immediately.

I worship with a small group of Friends in the heart of Baltimore's inner-city. One First Day in April, I knew that several of our regular attenders would not be coming to Meeting. It was a weird day were the Evangelical Black Church that meets in the same space as us was having an extra long service. As a result we had to meet in the class room building nearby. I placed a sign on the door of the Meetinghouse, and went to meet with the leader of the NA meeting that was finishing up in the class room building to make sure I knew how to lock up the building. It was a nice cool spring day. I decided to wait outside to make sure anyone coming to meeting would not be confused by the locale change. One of the guys from NA stayed around. He seemed to be carrying on a full-blown conversation with someone only he could see. I had a feeling he and his friends did not have anywhere to go.

I waited outside for about 25 minutes, no one showed. I went into the classroom building to read and optimistically hope someone would show up to worship. The building is older, and has few windows, even fewer people walk by it or come in during the weekend. It is very secluded in its own way. The man from NA came in and sat in the back, I figured he was as cold as I was and he seemed to know I was waiting for other church members. I figured he seemed pretty harmless. We sat in silence, with his occasional mutterings to his friends. Another man entered with some take out food from a chicken place nearby. He made himself comfortable at one of the tables and asked what we were doing. I explained that I was waiting for people from my worship group. He started talking about his divorce, but it was in that way to say, "I am single and you are pretty." It was getting close to an hour of waiting. The man finished his food and began to ask me questions about myself. I continued to talk about the worship group. I was getting increasingly uneasy.

I texted "Elizabeth Bathurst", asking where the line was between christian charity and safety. She replied, "where three are gathered in my name…." but then added that if I was uncomfortable I should leave. Part of me was rather irritated with our regular attenders, no one had showed up and I was alone in a situation such as this. That there is an expectation that since I am "clerk" I have to show up every week and they can show up as they choose. That as a result of this I as now alone in what could be a dangerous situation, though, thus far it was fine.
I decided to ask the guys in the building with me if they wanted to learn more about Quakers and perhaps participate in Worship together. They both said no and both got out of the building pretty fast after that. I had a twinge of guilt for putting the guy from NA out on the street, but I also couldn't just sit there all night.

Maybe this was an opportunity to minister to these men and I did not follow through due to my own fears of being alone with strange men in a secluded building. Does this make me a bad Christian? Or am I a bad Christian, because I decided to go to my favorite bar/restaraunt for dinner and a drink afterward?

This weekend I had the strangest day I had in Baltimore in a long time. I walked by a man twice, we said hi both times. The second time he noticed my tattoo and suddenly we were engaged in a rather deep conversation about spirituality. He was homeless. Though he made a comment about how men with men made him uncomfortable and half of our attenders are gay, I invited him to worship. Should he ever find himself down that way on a Sunday afternoon. He seemed like he wanted to have more discussions about how the spirit manifests. I felt like the cosmos were testing me. However, then he started telling me how he could fall in love with me. Why does it always devolve into that? Kindness is often mistaken as weakness or as sexual invitation.
So now what do I do if he comes to Meeting? And what do I do if I am in a situation where it is just he and I in Meeting? Do I assume that God has my back? How does one tread that line of Christian love and charity, finding that of God in others, and staying safe?

Today.

2010-01-28T21:27:00.003-05:00

Today, I find myself happy. Content, really. Maybe it is because I slept well yesterday, which I haven't done in weeks. Maybe it is due to feeling like I have my financial state in a place where I see the light at the end of the tunnel. Maybe it is that I feel competent at work. Perhaps it is all of these. I feel like I am finally starting to be the woman I have wanted to be for a long time but haven't been able to achieve.

I worked late tonight. Something that would have irked me in the past, but since it is not required very often and we have much to do before mid-February I am at ease with it. I ate a health dinner of leftovers. Then I walked to the independent movie rental place and got some movies. I felt independent and confident. I love my city. I love where I am in this moment. I did joke with my parents on the phone about how things can never be good for too long before something bad happens, yet, I am confident about how things are going. I am following God's will and things will work out. I am blessed.

TUrn, turn, turn

2010-01-20T23:18:00.002-05:00

I have been involved in several conversations recently that have in their own ways have led me to think about how we are all called to different things. Each of our gifts have unique qualities that through community and accountability give strength and allow us to make a whole. I was lucky to learn early through my experiences at the Catholic Worker that there is a need for all our gifts and callings. Some people are led to direct civil disobedience and others are the ones who get the phone call about who got arrested where and keep the community running in the interim. These pieces make a whole. One set of gifts is not more important than another--though through our own earthly egos it may be hard to remember that.

Right now, I need time to myself. I need to turn inward and do some hard work. I have always given greatly of myself to others, sometimes to my own detriment emotionally and psychologically. Now is a time for me. I have recently had less patience with others, especially my friends, I hear what they are saying but instead of the advice and solid support they are used to I get snippy. I say things like, "Life sucks, shit happens all the time, you just have to find a way to make do and not dwell." Or when it is relationship advice I say, "Really, you think you are the only person who is alone that doesn't want to be? You think that I want a life where I am alone and have no one to give me a hug or lie next to me on a 'dark night of the soul'"? I have been accused of being callous and going too far with my tough love of late. I have distanced myself from my family too. A family I have always been close to, a family I have always taken a role of responsibility with. A family I love, but after our loss this summer, it is something I need to have space from to grieve and to nurture myself rather than them.

My last post was about how all my life, I have searched and yearned for community, only to find that I do not want it any longer. What I really need is more time for inward reflection. I need time to learn to be still after so many years of flitting here and there. I need to relearn to listen to my "still small voice" and to nurture my spirituality. I think I need to figure out what it means to be the most at peace with myself that I have ever been. The irony, is that as I am having a harder time relating to others and less desiring of community, I need more than ever my spiritual community. I have recently agreed to take on a leadership roll with the group I worship with. I need to be accountable to my spiritual community, my spiritual development, and this group of seekers. I need to keep them at the center of my life. In order to do so, I felt that the spirit was guiding me to accept--that I am prepared to be in such a position as I have never been before. The need I speak of is not out of ego or something worldly, but a deep spiritual need driven by the Divine.

However, I have begun to doubt myself. I feel like I can't keep up or on top of things in my day-to-day life. I don't know that I am prepared enough (spiritually, emotionally, etc) or seasoned enough. I am new to the YM and I haven't been involved very much in the Quaker-world for nearly 10 years. I hope it is natural to doubt oneself. I know experientially that I must follow where I am led. I know that I must stay connected to God. I know that I have those I worship with for support and guidance. After all we are a community and no Quaker is an island. I take heart in the responses I got when I told some of my Elders from my home meeting and some of my F/friends about agreeing to the position. I was told, "if you listen to your leadings you will lead the group well. Don't second guess those leadings because as far as I remember your spiritual direction when followed was truly that, spiritual direction" that "I should continue to follow in my grandfather's thoughtful and challenging footsteps."

I have felt God move through me before. However, it wasn't till this summer that I learned what it is to surrender to that power and to follow God's direction. It was liberating in a way. I am finally coming to a place where I am open to learning how to be God's vessel and to do God's work. I am sure I will have many mis-steps but that is what community is for, keeping you accountable, helping to guide you, and checking that you don't out run your guide.

For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven;

a time to be born, a time to die;

a time to kill, and a time to heal;

a time to break down, and a time to build up;

a time to weep, and a time laugh;

a time to mourn, and a time to dance;

a time to throw away stones, and a time to gather stones together;

a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing;

a time to a time to seek, and a time to lose;

a time to keep, and a time to throw away;

a time to tear, and a time to sew;

a time to keep silence, and a time to speak;

a time to love, and a time to hate;

a time for war, and a time for peace.

Ecclesiastes 3-3:8

Haiti

2010-01-14T10:54:00.001-05:00

So, I have this friend who used to work in the library with me. This fall he left to do missionary work for the Episcopalians in Haiti. He was teaching when the earthquake hit and managed to evacuate himself and the children before the building collapsed. Last I heard, he was camping out in a soccer field. I am so grateful that he is okay, even as my heart is heavy with the thought of the magnitude of the loss of life.
I've been thinking back to the flood that followed Hurricane Floyd in Eastern NC back in 1999. That's my reference for disasters. I'm thinking about the disaster recovery work that I did in the wake of it and how important it was for me to help my community in our time of need. I want to help out with Haiti, but it seems that all I can give at the moment is an insignificant amount of money in the face of such devastation.
So I'm doing the only other thing I can do. I'm praying for the relief efforts to go as smoothly as possible. I'm praying that the death toll with be lower than anticipated. I'm praying for my friend, that he will continue to be safe and have the strength to do the work that is needed in the days to come.

Love,
Elizabeth Bathurst

Community

2009-12-09T13:24:00.004-05:00

I grew up on the rocky shores of Lake Superior and in the deep forests of Northeastern Minnesota. It is a part of the world that is predisposed to loneliness, an only child feels it even more strongly than most. By the time I was in high school I longed for community. I felt that with Quakers is where I wanted to find that community. I chose my college based on that fact. I got community, I studied community—sometimes I had too much of it. I lived in an intentional community, I lived in unintentional community.

This last year has been both really extraordinary and really difficult. I am finding I want more time alone and less time with others. I have recently decided to live alone. I keep asking myself several questions related to this.

How does needing to be alone balance with my strong desire to have community?

Is the community we are building at my worship group enough? Will it provide a structure for me to develop strong bonds with others and God that will allow me to support others and to let them support me?

Not too long ago I would have been scared to spend so much time alone. I spend most of my 20’s running from one place to the next. I felt restless and unhappy. Over the last few years I have started to come to peace with things, I feel at home in Baltimore and want to put down roots. I need stability. I am confronting the things that made me bounce from place to place when I was younger. I guess to do that work, I need time alone. At the same time it is nice to live somewhere that I am not totally anonymous.

I've got sticky everywhere

2009-09-12T15:37:00.005-05:00

Well, the title has little to do with anything. I did get it in my head last night as I left a certain meetinghouse in a town we Charm City. I was walking to my car and the reused salad container (the kind you get in the grocery store) was leaking watermelon juice and balsamic vinegar down my leg. The song is a Breeders song. If you think about it...sticky everywhere isn't really that pleasant. That could perhaps discribe what I am going to say in this post.

I was happy and feeling fulfilled. The group I have been working to start as part of my "volunteering" with AFSC had had its first open to the public event. It went well. We had had a potluck and "fundraiser" for a group called "No More Victims" that one of our group members was feeling called to do something for. We had it after the Women in Black Peace Path along Charles St. It was raining yesterday so there wasn't a big turn out for the Peace Path which is unfortunate, but we had probably 30 some folks for the potluck which was better than I had hoped for. And the Meeting Peace Committee had even agreed to sponsor us and come...so that is always nice.

I wasn't able to get off work in time to join the peace path but had been hoping to get there early to do set up for the potluck. I didn't get there as early as I had hoped but since we had people form meeting agree to help it all came together well. However, Quakers are Quakers. I kept getting told how do things (since I never go to simple lunch I don't know the process) and being asked if I had ever been there before by people I have talked to after meeting. And generally being treated in ways that if I hadn't resigned myself to Quaker ways long ago would have pissed me off.

I love Quakers. I know that my spiritual home is with Quakers, but that doesn't mean I like everything about us. In fact, I think we are actually very annoying at times. There is a general way of treating people that are not seen as being part of the meeting that is condescending and standoff-ish. Young people are seen as being something novel but not to be trusted or counted on...and that is our own doing for not making more of a presence in meetings. However, I have been coming to this meeting for 3 years --fairly infrequently mind you...but enough that I should at least look familiar. I don't expect to be remembered or even to have someone remember that the familiarity is from meeting. But it would still be nice to be treated in a welcoming manner and maybe as if I had a brain. I realize that these are very unkind charges to be making. And if you ask me for specific examples, it would be hard to say why it is I feel this way. I think what makes it worse is that meetings play favorites, picking a young adult that comes with some frequency or who was active as a teen and choosing to hold them up as this shining example and ignoring those of us who come infrequently and may be having our own struggles and tests of faith--those of us that need support and kindness.

This even happened in my home meeting when I returned from Guilford and having been the Quaker Leadership Scholars program for FOUR years. No one made an effort to get to know me (excepting those that I had pre-existing relationships with) and even when I tried to come regularly and get involved in committees still felt like an outsider at the rise of meeting.

I would have let it all go. Done the dishes (which is a long-standing ministry of mine at gatherings like this) and been done with it. However, I asked a friend of mine, who I met at college to come and support this venture. She is familiar with Quakers and has attended meetings in the past though being raised and part of another denomination. She grew up in an intentional faith-based community. We both share a passion for social justice, service, a need for spirituality, and community. As she came to help with the dishes I said, "Thanks for coming, I hope it hasn't been too awkward." She said it wasn't but was a lot like a quieter version of the intentional community she grew up in. We laughed. She said she thought it was funny that no matter where you were old Quaker men all look the same, with food in their beards. I said that the woman all tend too look the same and in a few years I would have my own lady beard and awkwardly out of style way of dressing. We were laughing at this (and please don't be offended, I make horrible jokes about what I love) when someone from the meeting came in and squawked about whether or not we were doing the dishes correctly. I said I had read the signs that were posted and followed that (this was the fourth person to do so). It irked me abit that rather than being thanked for doing this without being asked to do it, I was helping out. But rather than thanks the first thought was "they must be doing it wrong."

I mentioned to her that I disliked how hard it was to get to know people at meeting. That I had been coming to this meeting on and off for three years--and yet almost no one even recognized me. That there is the core group of people at any meeting, that they do it all, and complain about how hard it is to get more people involved. Yet, they can be so standoff-ish. That no one attempts to talk with others after meeting. That it is one thing if you are new to Friends but once they find out that you are a friend they seem to get awkward. She said that she had always felt that way after the meetings she had attended. That there was a lack of warmth. I said I hated that feeling and wanted to be involved and a sense of community. She said to come to her church (which is a large congregation). I said that I had started going to a worship group. That we all wanted more community and accountability than we were getting (not to mention more christ-centered meeting).

I am not doing justice to the odd sense people get after meeting. But if outsiders are seeing it and young friends who want to be involved, included, in community and accountable for living a mindful life--than there is a problem. If those that are hyper-involved in meetings are feeling burnt-out and taxed then it is essential we change our after meeting practices. True that part of this accountability means that I need to go to meeting regularly...which is hard when you feel like there is not a genuine interest in your presence there. At that point I usually think...I could still be asleep. I miss being a part of a community. I am glad that I have the opportunity to start attending something that may be closer to what I crave than what I get at established meetings but sad to that Quakers can be so condescending and rude. But like family, I love that which will always be apart of me at the same time know that sometimes the real gift is that family (or religious community) you create is what sustains and supports you.

So next time you see someone new at meeting...or maybe you have seen them a few times...standing off to the side alone, try talking to them about the weather or things that the meeting is working on....chances are they will appreciate it. And that they will be just as awkward as you--they are afterall at a Quaker Meeting.

Joy

2009-08-31T20:51:00.004-05:00

But I helped him a-drink his wine/And he always had some mighty fine wine/Singin'...Joy to the world/All the boys and girls now/Joy to the fishes in the deep blue sea/Joy to you and me--Hoyt Axton

If you all will excuse me conscerning my diatribe previously, which was obviously using you all for cheap therapy...Thank you. I don't know how to move on in some ways. And in other ways, my life is moving on.

I went to meeting Sunday, and it filled me with JOY. I was so happy for the gift of worshiping with all the wonderful people there. I was so happy to be there in that moment. I couldn't stop smiling.

I am becoming a glass half full kinda person. It is a first. It may not last. But I am content to enjoy the present. I am thankful for my blessings and where I am in my life right now. I am happy for what I have in this moment.

I have been telling my therapist for a year now that I need to find and claim my joy again. I think I may just have it within my grasp. Here is to new beginnings. Here is to faith. Thank you lord for my blessings, for my friends, my family...let me be your vessel. Here is to JOY.

Ch-ch-changes: Part 3 Home

2009-08-29T16:56:00.000-05:00

It was a rough summer. Elmer shaped me as a person. I am still having trouble talking about it. I feel blessed that I was able to spend about 8 weeks in Minnesota. I am so happy I could spend so much time with Nana and my mom. Unfortunately, my father was too concerned with whether I could get another job in this economy to be very pleasant. I told him I knew things would work, I felt it deep down that I would get a job and that my life would be better than it had been in a long time when I got back to Baltimore. He didn’t believe me. Even when I had to fly back for second interviews with two positions at Johns Hopkins.

I really wanted him to enjoy the time we had together. I don’t know when I will be able to afford to see my family next after this summer. But I knew it would work out. This summer was a lesson in faith and listening to your leadings. As a result I got to spend time with my family, be there for Nana, see friends I don’t get to see often, go to my home meeting, go to the BWCA, and spend the summer in Duluth (which is really the best time of year to be there). It was a blessed summer and I was able to do it; to be there for my family and be in a good place because I had quit my toxic job.

I am back home in Baltimore now. And, yes, it really is home. I have friends here and I have managed to carve out a life here even despite being miserable for so long. I have never felt so at home as I do here. I have a new job and it is amazing. I feel like I am starting a whole new wonderful chapter. The best one yet. Everyone tells me I look refreshed and am glowing.

I have plans: I am still volunteering with AFSC and we are doing some exciting things, I am going to take language classes this fall and will apply to graduate programs that my new job might pay a portion of the tuition for, I am going to try to get to meeting regularly (though I always say that….), I hope to blog more often (but I have said that to myself for months too).

I feel like I carry Elmer with me more than ever. Sometimes I worry that he can see everything now and is disappointed. But I remember that he knew me before and he loved me then…and he knows I am imperfect and loved me anyway.

Ch-ch-changes: Part 2 I’ll Fly Away

2009-08-29T16:32:00.002-05:00

We held the memorial a month later. I had been in Minnesota the whole time. Nana and I had been cleaning out the apartment. I had spent everyday with her. We got to the memorial with picture boards and Elmer in a handcrafted urn. My father made it, not ahead of time (years) like the casket for my other grandfather, but he made it. I was carrying it up the steps and people I have known my whole life, friends of my grandparents didn’t recognize me.

We had a wonderful Quaker service. Most of the family was there including the newest member. One of my cousins had gotten married the weekend Elmer went into hospice. People said many lovely things. I sat there without emotion. My best friend did the crying for me. It was great to see so many of Elmer’s friends: from the commune they had in the 50’s, to the Twin-Cities Meeting that he had helped to start (with many others), to people from NYM that he hand had a hand in beginning (with many others also), to people I knew from People Camp that Elmer brought me to when I was a teen, to people from Duluth and Grand Marais, regular folk and dignitaries alike. I spent most of it with my best friend and other Mothers.

After the meeting potluck we went to my parents’ place for more eating. My older cousin who I rarely see was there. As the oldest grandchildren we had the blessing to have spent more time with Elmer as youngsters. Thus, we have a special bond despite rarely seeing each other. Our younger cousins were raised in a very evangelical Christian household. Only one of the three has turned out to be a liberal like the rest of the family. During dinner the phone rang I went to answer it, it was the DFL calling for money. The DFL is a huge part of why my grandparents moved to Minnesota. But they have kinda sold out to become like the national Democratic Party and that is a bit disenchanting. I said something to the effect when I got off the phone that it was the DFL and I wasn’t giving them money. The new husband of my cousin (one of the younger ones) said he would never give money to Democrats, he was a republican. I new it wasn’t the time to say anything to him…just felt a little bad that he didn’t know the crowd. We are raging unabashed liberals…but Elmer wouldn’t have judged, he would have found something to love in this young man. So I kept my mouth shut. Though, I saw some looks in the room and everyone was surprise that I didn’t take him down…it wasn’t the time. If I meet him again, then I can school him.

The next day, the fam loaded up in 3 cars (yes, I know and we do care about the environment) to go picnic east of Grand Marais. The beach was one of Elmer’s favorite places to picnic, we knew he would want a little of himself there.

Later in the week we took him to Masabi Park Coop. On the way there we stopped at the Wellstone Memorial. After we left Elmer off we went to Hibbing to see Bob Dylan’s childhood home. We split it up that day so the youngsters could ride together. My younger cousin (the liberal one) knows little of us older ones. It was great to spend time with them and the rest of the family. I even got a whole day with my older cousin. Those were the blessings in the situation. Getting to spend so much time with Nana this summer was also a blessing. She is holding up well. They would have been married 63 years in early September. Something I can't even imagine. I can only hope to find a partner to share my life with like my grandparents had in each other.

Ch-ch-changes: Part 1 The Silver-lining

2009-08-29T15:53:00.001-05:00

The Friday before Memorial Day weekend, I was in a senior center parking lot with my stuff spread out all over looking for a pen. Finally, I was being contacted for an interview for a job. Two and half years of being miserable and finally I was getting response from the jobs I had been applying to. I was so excited as I hung up. My phone rang again as I had just finished rounding up my stuff and putting it into my car. It was my parents. They rarely call during the day. I answered and it was my dad, with is scary nurses voice, he told me that Elmer had been in the hospital since Tuesday and it wasn’t looking good. I said I would try to be home soon. I had been trying to convince my parents that it was a good idea for me to quit my job and spend time with Elmer for the summer. Even at 30 I had to get my parents (father really) to agree with this idea for the sake of family harmony. If he didn’t support this plan it was going to be a miserable summer. I had been sitting with this idea for a while. I felt that it was what I needed to do; it was what God was telling me to do. I had been having arguments with my parents about coming home. Mostly because my dad didn’t like me quitting my job. I felt that it was a toxic situation and the best thing I could do was leave it. That night dad called again, to say Elmer was worse. They didn’t know how long he had; they were putting him in hospice. I told him I would be come by Tuesday or Wednesday at the latest, since it was a long weekend. My boss called Saturday, I told her I was resigning on Tuesday and it would be my last day. I felt liberated.

I arrived at the hospital around 9pm on Wednesday. Since he had been in the hospital for about a week, the family was tired. Nana went to sleep on a couch across the hall my parents and aunt who was staying with them went home to bed. I stayed with Elmer. He was being kept comfortable, but was not lucid. We watched late night TV like we did when I was little. We used to watch late night TV together because he didn’t see the point in putting me to bed till I was tired. My parents often worked late in those days, my father as a nurse and my mom with her two to three jobs. Elmer was semi-retired, thus he and I spent a lot of time together.

We sat in the hospice room. He was breathing heaving. I sat there with my hand on his arm. I told him I didn’t thing Jay Leno had anything on Johnny Carson. I told him about quitting my job and how good I felt about it. I told him I knew that if I had faith everything would workout. I would get a better job when I went back to Baltimore and that my life was going to be really great. I told him I was here for him. That I would was going to spend as much of the summer there. I would keep an eye on Nana and he didn’t need to worry about her. I told him we loved him. That when he was ready he could let go. We would miss him, but we didn’t want him to be in pain. His breathing slowed, the death rattle came. I went and woke Nana up. She cried and held his hand, I held hers. We prayed.

On identifying as Christian.

2009-08-26T14:29:00.001-05:00

I was having dinner with a friend of mine and his lovely finance last night and the topic turned to identifying as Christian. J's fiance is uncomfortable with the label at the moment, partially because of the sordid history of Christianity, partially because she's no longer what her Southern Baptist mother considers a Christian and partially because she's still mulling over where she stands theologically.

I was once in her shoes, somewhat. I haven't always been comfortable calling myself a Christian, but I am now. Two things changed. The first is that I became more comfortable with using Christian language to describe my experience. The second is that my experience with the Living Christ became less antagonistic.

I am still uncomfortable with some of the things that have been done in the name of Christianity. I don't like the way some people who identify as Christian behave now, or have over the history of Christendom. But for me, identifying as a Christian isn't about identifying with a group of other people, it's about identifying myself with Christ. I am a Christian because I have a personal relationship with Christ Jesus.

But that begs the question of why bother identifying as anything at all. I mean, if it's just between me and Jesus, what's the point? The point is evangelism. (Did I just write that?) The point is letting people know that Jesus is the reason that I do my best to live with integrity, obedience and intentionality.

St. Francis is credited with saying that one should preach without ceasing and use words when necessary. I believe that one's life is the greatest ministry one can have, but that without identifying that life as a Christian life, you can lose the message of Divine Love and Forgiveness.

This is not to say that Christianity is the only way to be faithful to the Divine. This is to say that the Love of God through Christ is a miraculous, beautiful thing and need not be hidden. There may well be many paths up the mountain, but the Christian path I'm on has a great view.

I am a Christian and I am not ashamed or conflicted about it. A little weirded out by the realization that I seem to be promoting evangelism, but perfectly comfortable with being a Christian. Christ is at the center of my life and letting people know seems right to me.

Love,
Elizabeth

Where I've been

2009-08-26T14:28:00.001-05:00

Busy adjusting to full time work, dating, working on the QUIP Youth Book Project, teaching First Day School, goofing off, and in general, ignoring our blog. Sorry about that. Look for several new posts in the upcoming days!

Love,
Elizabeth

Learning to Listen

2009-02-09T21:53:00.002-05:00

"I just feel like the way opened. That the path just cleared and brought me here."

I overheard someone at work say that this week. It was odd to hear it coming from someone who is not Quaker. And it made me a little angry to hear. Not because she used the phrase and certainly not because she feels like she is in a wonderful place, the right place for her. I am happy she feels so blessed. However, what made me angry was that I don’t feel that way right now. I feel like I am trapped at work and I hate my job. [Please keep in mind that while my office is in the same space as the person I overheard we work for two very different employers.]

I wish the way would open for me. But I think I don’t let myself be open to the spirit or its whispering in my life. I fight what whispers of the spirit do make their way to my ears and mind. I take the easy path when it comes to work. I go with what seems to be a stable job, a sure bet. And usually, I end up miserable. I don’t know what I want to do professionally. I just feel like I am supposed to work and work hard. Take sensible jobs that will pay the bills.

Yet, all I have gotten from this mentality is feeling burnt out, unappreciated, and resentful. I am resentful that I didn’t have the guts to take other positions. I am resentful towards people who are happy with their career choices. I work hard doing work that no one else will do on our project because it needs to be done and I don’t want to let down the people we are doing this research for. I put in a lot of work and I rarely get acknowledgement or even treated like a competent individual by my boss.

It has occurred to me that unless I open myself to the spirit and let it move through my life. To truly open myself to being a vessel to do God’s work I will probably not be blessed to have the way opening. I will not find myself in a place where I am happy and know with certainty that that is exactly where I need to be—until I am open to the leading of God.

It was my hope last year to go to meeting regularly. To work on nurturing my spiritual life. Well, I was not as successful with that as I had hoped. I tried to make it to Meeting once a month, to read the Bible more, and to take time out to spend time reflecting on spiritual matters regularly. I didn’t really succeed on those fronts. But I am finally learning to be still, to stop running from things, to be able to accept things in my life.

I hope to keep working on nurturing my spiritual life. Hopefully, one day I can reach a place where I am open to the movings and leadings of the spirit in my life. And hopefully, through the spirit I can come to a place where I can feel fulfilled and happy with my life. Or perhaps I need to struggle more to learn the lesson I need to learn.

Resolutions

2008-12-24T10:39:00.002-05:00

I gave ministry at meeting this past week about the importance of thinking about the traditions we choose to uphold. I was thinking about the advent wreath and Christmas trees and all the other trappings of Christmas, but perhaps a more important thing for me to be thinking about this time of year is the tradition of making New Year's resolutions.

For me, the new year is a good time to reflect on the past year and think about the changes I want to make in my life. New Year's resolutions have been a good way for me to make those changes. Sometimes they stick beyond the year, and sometimes they don't. Sometimes I meet my goals and sometimes I don't. The year I decided to read the Bible I didn't quite make it in time. The year I decided to stop buying leather I not only succeeded, but haven't gone back.

I'm aware that the new year is an arbitrary date, just like Christmas. But it serves a purpose in my life as a way of marking time. The tradition of New Year's resolutions is helpful to me and so I choose to observe it. Last year I didn't make a resolution, as a way of trying to be gentler with myself, but I missed it. I don't think I was any gentler on myself for laying the tradition aside. This year, I think I'm going to try to do something again, perhaps trying the whole Bible thing again. I want to find something that adds something to my daily spiritual life and encourages thoughtfulness and gratitude.

This past year has been a difficult one, filled with health and financial problems, but I am feeling blessed today. I'm feeling somewhat better, if not fully well. I have friends and family who can afford to help me weather the financial strains of my illness. I have a positive living situation and job security. I am loved and I want to add something to my spiritual disciple to help me remember that. Any suggestions?

Love,
E.B.

World of Peacecraft

2008-10-24T16:38:00.001-05:00

I head about this new video game from a couple of different people today. It's supposed to be like World of Warcraft, except as a history of Quakerism. I'm probably one of the few people who would consider playing it. However, in reading the blog entries about it, I began to suspect it was a hoax. I mean, I've been hanging out in Quaker circles for some time and I've never heard of the "Quaker United Service". I'm amused by the descriptions of the game however, which is why I've linked to it here.

It does provoke the question of what sort of video games are Quaker-friendly. I really like one in which you shoot space bunnies with plungers. Not exactly peaceful, but not exactly realistic violence either.

Love,
E.B.

A poem, and thanksgiving

2008-09-02T16:37:00.002-05:00

I'm feeling better, so much better that I'm getting to all the things I've had to set aside over the past eight months. In doing so, I found a poem I don't remember writing:

Prayer

You have always given me
just a little more than I can withstand,
leaving me broken. You know
that I carry each failure
like an aching wound.
These are not garments
I can shed to take on the new.
I am red and raw and cannot
imagine surviving another stripe.

But You have known me
from before I was anything at all.
Only You can heal me
Only You can make me whole.

Oh, Lord, let this be something
I can do.

I have no idea what leading I was resisting, or when I wrote this, except that it probably involved crying the the shower, given some of the scribbles on the same page.

I am so thankful to be far from the place I was in when I wrote that, even if I was there only a few weeks ago.

Love,
E.B.

Why I haven't posted in a while.

2008-08-20T08:33:00.002-05:00

Today it feels quite a bit like fall. It's about sixty five degrees in my room and the little dog has chosen not to get out from under her blanket in the other room to sit at my feet while I type.
It was winter here when I fell headlong into this depression. I've weathered a lot of tough things since it began and I am tired, so tired that I'm now getting worse and not better. I'm in talks with my doctor to be admitted to an inpatient unit for a short stay, starting this afternoon.
I'm looking forward to it. It's a relief to have that space where I don't have to think about if I've eaten often enough or taken the right number of pills. I won't have to do anything but take care of myself, and I'll even have help with that.
I'm in the process of rallying my support network and I need your prayers, my internet Friends. I'm losing the ability to take comfort in my faith. I'm bitter about my suffering and feel He's given me more than I can handle this time. I know that I've been handling this depression far better than earlier ones, but that's hard to access right now. I need your prayers, Friends.

Love,
E.B.

Man does not live on bread alone, but on every word that comes from the mouth of God. Matthew 4:4 NIV Study Bible

2008-07-12T18:39:00.002-05:00

And he was in the desert forty days being tempted by Satan. He was with the wild animals, and angels attended him. Mark 1:13 NIV Study Bible

I have been trying to attend to my spiritual needs more lately. It is hard. I allow myself to get pulled in too many directions and have a hard time saying ‘no’ especially when other people need something. I had a leading last August that I needed to start volunteering with a local Friends organization…and well, it is July now and I just sent the volunteer application in. So I am moving at a different pace than maybe the Lord would like to see. I have wanted to go to meeting more often for the last year or so yet still only make it maybe once a month. I know this is the direction I need to go in; to return to my spiritual home. But reincorporating it into my life seems difficult. But I feel the pull clearly…when I let myself.

A series of events recently had me thinking, again, on why it is that so many young adult Friends seem to drift away…I have many lines of thought on this phenomenon. Currently, I am pondering how it is that few of my year in QLSP are actively involved with Friends. Some are definitely, for example one of us is a pastor now. Some are slowly being drawn into projects in the larger society. Some of us do work that has some meaningful benefit to society and that work is tied to our spiritual beliefs. But I started to contemplate how it is that individuals from other parts of my Quaker life are more actively involved in the SOF then my QLSP friends. I think back on the unspoken currents of trying to “out Quaker” each other or those “super-Quakers” among us and if some how that un-quakerly attitude has attributed to some of us departing on another path rather than one serving the larger SOF. I don’t have answers or even any idea if what I just said is grounded in a reality that others experience.

Mainly, this is my attempt to say, “I am still here.” I think it has become clear that I need to make my way out of my personal desert and come back to the fold. It may take time but I am starting that journey—again.

Lapses and forgettings are so frequent. Our surroundings grow so exciting. Our occupations are so exacting. But when you catch yourself again, lose no time in self-recriminations, but breathe a silent prayer for forgiveness and begin again, just where you are. Thomas Kelly, A Testament of Devotion.

Jesse Helms died yesterday.

2008-07-05T09:59:00.002-05:00

The Guardian described him as a "rightwing senator who opposed civil rights, gun laws, hippies, foreign aid and the UN." My initial response was that they left out art. The man opposed funding for the arts with vigor.

My earliest political memory is of a senatorial campaign between Harvey Gantt and Helms, which featured ads describing Gantt's political record and ended with the phrase "too liberal for North Carolina." I remember thinking that everything mentioned in the ad was a good thing and then being really surprised that it was an attack ad.

I remember watching "Dear Jesse" in college, and aside from being taken aback by the appearance of Matthew Shepard (yes, that Matthew Shepard), I remember being really surprised at how fair and balanced the documentary was, given that it was about Jesse Helms and was made by a gay man.

I almost had a party to celebrate his retirement. (I was thwarted by the rules in my apartment complex.) After his retirement, he settled into a fairly quiet life only popping into politics to endorse the occasional candidate. But he also became convinced that AIDS was a bad thing and argued for funding to fight AIDS in Africa. So much so that Bono praised him for it at one point.

He adopted a child, not because he and his wife could not conceive, but because the kid, who had cerebral palsy, had asked for parents for Christmas.

On this forth of July, I am struck by how similarly I think about Jesse Helms and America. I feel deeply conflicted when I think about them both and rack up more negative connotations than positive. They both are mostly symbolic in my mind, but they symbolize home: deeply flawed, well-intentioned and capable of change. That Jesse Helms, who in many ways was a symbol of hate, was capable of good deeds throughout his life, both large and small and was capable of rethinking things even late in life gives me hope for a better day in America, and in the wider world.

I'm hoping that Jesse is facing a merciful judgment in the Heaven of "Angels in America" :

Big city. Overgrown with weeds, but flowering weeds. On every corner a wrecking crew and something new and crooked going up catty corner to that. Windows missing in every edifice like broken teeth, gritty wind, and a gray high sky full of ravens... ...prophet birds, Roy. Piles of trash, but lapidary like rubies and obsidian, and diamond-colored cowspit streamers in the wind. And voting booths. And everyone in Balenciaga gowns with red corsages, and big dance palaces full of music and lights and racial impurity and gender confusion. And all the deities are creole, mulatto, brown as the mouths of rivers. Race, taste and history finally overcome.

I think that only in the Kingdom of Heaven can race, taste, and history be overcome. Good thing we've got the chance to catch glimpses of it here and now.

Love,
Elizabeth Bathurst

Why I'm doing this Youth Book Project thing.

2008-05-11T20:31:00.002-05:00

Those of you who know me well (which is most of our readership so far as I can tell) know that Quakers drive me up the wall.
I'm not a big fan of YAF gatherings. I'm not a fan of ecumenical Quaker gatherings either. My reasons are twofold. First, while I value my friendships with Quakers my age, I see no reason to segregate myself from older Friends. In fact, I'm more likely to find common ground spiritually with older Friends.
As for ecumenical Quakerism, I find that I like it in theory but in practice it is deeply draining and frustrating. Part of this is my experiences as a teenager with the joint yearly meeting sessions of the NC yearly meetings when we celebrated our triennial. Part of this is being a fly on the wall, so to speak, at YouthQuake before that was laid down. When the in-group dialog is very different from the out-group dialog there's a problem. When the planning is done in an ecumenical cooperative spirit, but the implementation is proselytization, there's a problem.
While I was in NC, I had a conversation with Will T. (at least I think it was Will) about my Quaker identity. I had identified myself as a member of one yearly meeting and an attender of another, a graduate of a Quaker college, YouthQuake and blah, blah, blah. I don't think I ever mentioned Friends Music Camp, but I did that too. He was inquiring about how confused I must be about what kind of a Quaker I am, and I had to reply that I am not. Each time I interact with the wider world of Friends I become more and more certain that I belong with the Conservatives. The silence is different somehow and it feels like home.
So how is it that I, who avoid ecumenical and YAF gatherings, came to be a part of the Quaker Youth Book Project? Well, it was a leading.
See, several years ago I was sitting in worship with my big liberal meeting. And that still small voice which is never really all that small to me said "Speak to them" and then didn't give me anything to say. He also didn't give me a clear sense of who the pronoun was referring to, other than that "they" were Quakers.
Since then, I've started this blog. I've been teaching First Day School. I taught Bible Study for NCYM-C and found that while that felt led and was wonderful experience, it didn't calm the "speak to them" leading much at all. And in January, when the call for ed board applications came my way, I promptly felt the need to answer some of the questions in the application. The next thing I knew I'd filled out the whole application, except for the references. I realized that He wanted me to send it in, so I did. Lo and behold, they wanted me on the board. I didn't need any time for discernment. The message was clear. I was going to have to commit to 2-3 years of ecumenical YAF work. At least it will involve some sort of end product, right?
Actually, I'm pretty excited about the book. I can't wait to get my hands on the call for submissions (I was recording during the session when we crafted it, so I have no personal notes). I'm so happy that the board works so well together. I'm hopeful that we'll get quality writing about interesting topics. I'm looking forward to finishing up the guide for writing workshops and leading a few myself.
Oh, and I'm really grateful that I'm off the hook for the Young Adult Friends Conference at Earlham later this month. If you're going to be there, I'm sure you'll hear more about the Project from other ed board members. Rumor has it we're pretty awesome, so make sure to say hello.

Love,
Elizabeth Bathurst

With wings as eagles

2008-05-02T12:19:00.002-05:00

So, I used up all my patience on my trip to NC. I'm excited about QUIP's Youth Book Project, relieved that the board works so well together and a little bit cranky about getting dragged back into the wider world of Friends. I'm also feeling a little anxious about the amount of energy this project is going to require. I'm already exhausted.

It's hard work speaking in front of a group, even when it's just a bunch of Quakers who want to pat you on the head and tell you you're awesome. It's hard to have your photo taken over and over and over again when you've gained a lot of weight over the past year or so and are still really uncomfortable with it. It's hard work to act as recording clerk in most situations, but when you factor in theological and cultural differences it's even harder.

Moreover, I had to face a lot of difficult memories while I was there. Memories of a dear friend and mentor who committed suicide two years ago. Memories of past experiences of ecumenical Quakerism gone awry. Memories of campus drama from college and feeling unsupported by all the communities I identified with. I really wasn't expecting to have to talk to anyone about how I came to leave QLSP, or what the joint North Carolina Yearly Meeting sessions or Youth Quake were like for me. And I really wasn't prepared to see a portrait of my mentor hanging in the library.

There was a lot of talk about life transitions over the course of the long weekend and in a lot of ways I was truly blessed as I transitioned from college student to working girl. I never questioned my faith, although I struggled and grew with it. I never questioned my career path, although it hasn't always been easy. I really wish I could talk to my mentor about work right now.

I've grown a lot since college. I've learned to build community with individuals and no longer believe it intrinsically when groups tell me I'm welcome. I've learned to accept my abilities and leadings with a great deal less angst. I've even learned to speak in public without dissociating! I've learned to stand up for myself and to ask for what I need. Most importantly I've learned how to take care of myself.

So tonight I'm taking care of myself. I'm going to go to a tequila tasting and then an opera performance. Later this weekend there will be a tour of local artist studios, most likely a viewing of R. Kelly's entire Trapped in the Closet, and perhaps I'll even perform the 1812 overture as part of a "Last-Minute Orchestra". I'm filling my weekend with the silly, the outrageous, the artsy and the delicious. In the meantime, I'm enjoying work emails that warn of a potential "interruption as a result of the manhole fire."

Perhaps on Monday I'll be ready to transfer my notes about what I've agreed to do into my big to-do list. Maybe by First Day I'll be ready to go to worship. And if not, I'm not going to worry about it. He always gives me enough strength to do the things He's asked me to do, so I know I'll be fine.

Love,
Elizabeth Bathurst

"For oft, when on my couch I lie"

2008-04-10T15:10:00.002-05:00

I've been having a hard time of late. A pretty wretched GI bug landed me in the ER about a month ago and my recovery has been long and drawn out. Multiple visits to the doctor's office a week for blood tests on my thyroid, adrenal gland, and lithium, sugar and electrolyte levels and the occasional IV have worn me out, spent out my sick time and left me frustrated. Taking me off all of my psych meds has proved to be a really bad idea, especially since it didn't help them to a diagnosis other than "not a prescription side effect." I'm feeling better physically now and I don't have to drink two liters of Gatorade to sit upright all day.

It'll take a while to get me back on all of my psych meds. It'll take quite some time for my bank accounts to recover. Hey, Bush! That stimulus check would be awesome about now. I'm worried that I'm wearing out my support network and I'm not out of the woods yet. I'm hanging in there like a kitten on a motivational poster and I really wish I could just curl up in someone's lap for a little while.

I turn to the Bible, I turn to God. I have received great comfort. But God isn't going to pack a bag for me if I have to go into the hospital, or for that matter drive me there. He isn't going to fill out the FMLA forms for me. He can't play Super Smash Brothers Brawl with me. He can't go to the grocery store for me. But he will never leave nor forsake me.

In the depths of my loneliness, wishing that someone would just step in and take care of me, I am reminded that I have known the highest form of Love. I have been stripped bare and found worthy of His forgiveness. I have a Holy memory to hold on to in the darkness. I am blessed and I'm going to be fine.

The Lord will surely comfort Zion and will look with compassion on all her ruins; he will make her deserts like Eden, her wastelands like the garden of the LORD. Joy and gladness will be found in her, thanksgiving and the sound of singing.
-Isaiah 51:3

The depths of His mercy brings tears to my eyes and I am filled with prayers of Thanksgiving. All my love is Thine, Lord.

In the midst of my own miseries, my aunt Mary Beth lost her battle with breast cancer. My loneliness cannot compare to what my uncle Ed is going through, having lost his wife of over twenty five years. My own troubles are compounded by the loss, however, and by my concern for Ed and his kids, both grown and nearly so.

As they circle the wagons, I am praying that they are taking comfort in each other and in knowing that she is no longer in pain. I am hoping that they are able to relish the memories of her humor and kindness amidst their grief. I am praising God that they took care to get their affairs in order as best they could before she passed. I pray for them to know the comfort I have known and that someday we will all (friends, family and strangers alike) be singing songs of praise in the gardens that are rising from the ruins in our lives.

Love,
Elizabeth Bathurst

I believe in miracles

2008-03-27T09:03:00.002-05:00

A couple of weeks ago my First Day School class was talking about some stories of healing from the books of Matthew and Mark. We had to take a break at one point to discuss the differences between the old and new testament. You know, Jesus is in the new testament, which was written after the old testament. We also had to stop and talk about Jesus' teachings about the Sabbath and what they have to do with Bud Selig and the steroid scandal. They weren't able to convince me that it was an apt metaphor.

And as much as they tried the kids also couldn't convince me that Jesus was just a dude. They were pretty much in agreement that He couldn't actually do all that healing stuff. And that nonsense about how it's your faith that heals you is really condescending because that means that if you're paralyzed then your faith isn't strong enough to make you better.

I find this such a sad world view. As someone who struggles with mental illness, the kind of mental illness that requires multiple daily medications, weekly therapy and the occasional hospitalization, I don't believe that my lack of healing is due to a weakness of faith. In fact, it's my faith that gives me the strength to keep fighting especially in times like these when the going gets pretty rough. I believe that my experiences on earth and my physical body are fairly unimportant. I believe that my soul and my relationship with God are far more important. Sure, it'd be great if God would relieve my suffering and balance the chemicals in my head for me. If he'd cure my aunt's breast cancer, that'd be pretty rad too. But I'd rather be right with God than right in the head. Knowing that I'm right with God brings me great comfort.

Here's what I think about the stories of healing: I'm buying it. I believe that Jesus was able to heal people. I think that being able to work miracles was an important part of getting people's attention. He had amazing things to say about the way things are and the way they should be and he got people's attention by doing amazing things while he was on earth in a corporeal form. And even if the stories about healing aren't literally true, I think that the messages about faith and forgiveness are so true and so important that I'm not concerned about whether or not touching the hem of His garment might actually cure leprosy or a hemorrhage or HIV.

Maybe they aren't ready to really think about miracles and healing and forgiveness. I'm pretty sure I wasn't at that age either. On the other hand, there was no throwing of graham crackers that week and that's a little miracle in and of itself.

Love,
Elizabeth Bathurst

Doors and Windows

2008-02-01T16:19:00.000-05:00

The phrase that so many seem to quote in times of change is, “When God closes a door, he opens a window.” I used to think this was a peaceful image. It seemed to reassure me that there was hope when things ended.

Recently, I have begun to look at this statement differently. However, if there are always doors and windows being opened and closed…at some point several of them are going to be open. This could cause a draft. Not only could this cause a draft but it could contribute to a wind-tunnel of sorts that creates havoc in one’s life. With little bits of paper swirling around—flying here and there. It gets chaotic and messy. And soon these potential opportunities and hopeful reassurances are nothing more than stressful, confusing change. And how do you weigh these things and know which windows are worth shutting and which are worth crawling through? Perhaps I should see it as luck to have too many windows and doors opening and closing on me in rapid succession…but I find it stressful. It can be hard to discern in some situations which is the better option. Sometimes I have kept the door open too long and sometimes I let it shut too soon. But for this year all I ask is please don’t let it be a wind tunnel.

And with this, I begin 2008 year of the purge. God, please let this be a good year. Let my heart and home be happy places so that I may be more faithful in doing your work.

Won't you be my neighbor?

2008-01-08T15:40:00.001-05:00

I'm teaching the parables of Jesus to my junior high first day school class this trimester and hopefully, you'll be seeing more posts like this as I prep my lessons.

And, behold, a certain lawyer stood up, and tempted him, saying, Master, what shall I do to inherit eternal life? (Luke 10:25)

Why do people keep asking Jesus this question? Seriously. Lawyer-Guy is all; "What do I need to do to get a cookie? I don't want to clean my room. What if I just make my bed? Is that enough to get a cookie?"

I'd be tempted to tell the guy to just shut up already. If I were to come face to face with someone who I thought had all the answers, I wouldn't be asking him about cookies. Fact of the matter is, I've got access to Jesus (and so do you!) and I've never asked Him about what I need to do to get into heaven.

I've asked "What do you want me to do?" and "Is this okay?" and in fits of anger and despair I've been known to ask "why me?" but I really don't care about heaven. I am willing to believe that God is always just and often merciful and therefore I can trust that I'll deserve whatever comes next. What it is exactly doesn't interest me all that much. Let's get back to the story.

When the lawyer dude who is harassing Jesus this time about his cookie asks for a little clarification about who his neighbors are, Jesus responds with the whole half-dead guy in the ditch story we've heard a million times. You know, some dude passes by, then some other dude passes by, and then this other dude, one of an ethnic group everybody looks down on 'cause they're smelly stops to help out and even pays for the half-dead guy to stay in the motel 6.

But wait. Jesus ends the story with a question:

Which now of these three, thinkest thou, was neighbour unto him that fell among the thieves?
And he said, He that shewed mercy on him. Then said Jesus unto him, Go, and do thou likewise. (Luke 10:36-37)

Sounds to me like Jesus isn't just telling us that we need to be kind and loving towards everyone (not just our in-group, our literal neighbors, our friends). Seems to me that Jesus is actively shaming our little cookie-seeking lawyer by telling a story about someone who had call to be selective in defining who his neighbors were not only not trying to weasel out of helping others, but actively going out of his way to be kind to a complete stranger in need. I'm going with the shame-on-you version of the story, 'cause I like that Jesus best.

Seeing as my kids really get the whole Yankees/Red Sox rivalry, I'm probably going to work in the story about how A-Rod once saved a kid from getting hit by a car on Newbury Street. The Yankees might well be the closest thing we've got to Samaritans in Boston.

I'll be home for Christmas...

2007-12-19T16:56:00.000-05:00

So I am set to go “home” for Christmas. It is something I cannot imagine not doing. I was the closest I have ever been to not going home this year. I had a really horrible visit over the summer. But it seemed wrong to not take the opportunity to visit my grandparents or to punish my mother for my father’s ill behavior.

My last trip home seemed to bring all the anger and hurt—which I have tried to leave behind—and shove my nose in it. This year was my father’s turn to host the big Labor Day gathering known as “Bouja.” It is all the people my dad grew up with in Central Minnesota gathering together for a weekend of festivities. Bouja is a big stew made in a huge kettle over an open fire, all the vegetables from everyone’s gardens goes into it…and a whole lot of meat (we think it might be Polish in origin…or eastern European). A series of events occurred that made me recall some of the not so good family times…and I thought, “why did I come back for this. I have my own life, what was I thinking.”

Then the dog got shot. She was out by the road and it was probably some jack-ass hopped up on meth. No, it wasn’t someone at the party…But well, that pretty much made it the worst trip back to Minnesota ever. And the worst Bouja ever for my parents and I. There is nothing like spending hours with the emergency vet trying to decide if it is more humane to put the family pet down or see if they can reconstruct her muzzle and save her. We opted for pain meds and an observation/work-up by the vets and when the bleeding couldn’t be stopped it was obvious the choice. So that is something added to the list of things we will never speak of again in the family.

So why am I going home?

I guess because I need to. I need to be with my ridiculouslyand gloriously dysfunctional family (who can’t even communicate with each other about a family meal on Christmas day—it has been like pulling teeth). A chance to recall how much I really do like my family (warts and all as they say) and a chance to remember what is important in life. I get so cut off in my daily routine of work and worry about money, I rarely sit back and reflect on what is important.

I recently applied for a job back on MN…and it is a tough choice. Should I stay or should I go—exactly what I was thinking Joe Strummer. It is equally weighted on the push/pull factors. But being in MN will help with the decision. How will I know if I am leaving MD prematurely? And does the distance help keep my family closer than we would be if I lived within a few hours…hard to know. Being with my family provides clearness for me…even if it is just a reminder as to why I ended up in Baltimore in the first place. So here is to rejuvenation.

Quaker children are angels. Sometimes.

2007-11-26T16:48:00.000-05:00

I've been working with the junior high class at the big local meeting for a few months now, and it was recently time to decide whether or not to come back and do it again for another trimester.

This week, we had combined the high-schoolers, the junior high and the 3-5th graders to work on the Christmas pageant. It was chaos, but it was a loving chaos. The high-schoolers were patient with the little ones, even when they painted over things they should have painted around. There was affectionate horsing around between kids who were related and kids who weren't. A teenager pulled up to the piano and played. Another pulled up some folding chairs and took a nap. But when it was time to wrap things up, the backdrop, complete with a peace-sign wearing cobra, unicorn, and spitting llama, was carefully taken downstairs to dry and the kids set the room up for the potluck without complaint. Okay, so some of my junior high kids complained a little that I woke the sleeping teenager up gently instead to letting them pull the chair out from under his head, but mostly they were really good. Wild, unruly, the-camel's-teeth-don't-really-need-to-be-bloody angels (no-really-I'm-serious-do-not-paint-blood-on-the-camel's-teeth).

There are ways in which Quaker kids are special. You can get 7th graders to talk about their doubts about God. You can tell a teenager to coordinate twenty younger kids in a painting project and not have anyone throw a tantrum. There's something about they way that we treat our kids that makes them more responsible than other kids their age. Sometimes.

Sometimes, they're more reluctant to quietly accept orders from adults. They're prone to making their own decisions about sex and drugs and can really make a mess out of things that way. They tend to be less motivated and fairly indecisive when it comes to careers. When you raise children to value simplicity and an inner spiritual life, they tend to be uncommitted to the labor market. Quaker boys seem especially unmotivated to say, finish college, do their own laundry, stop smoking pot and get a real job.

I remember teaching my younger brothers the story of Jonah and the whale. My youngest brother amused himself for quite some time by making vomiting noises, but in between the fits of giggles, we were able to talk about the story on a deeper level than the question-and-answer, were-you-really-paying-attention regurgitation that most kids expect to have to do when talking to grownups.

When I was working with a group of Methodist children, they were much calmer. They sat down when and where I asked them to, but could not wrap their minds around the open-ended questions I would ask them about the parables I was teaching them. I would get blank stares if I asked for their opinions, or for how the story might be applicable to their lives.

One of my friends, who got kicked out of Catholic Sunday school for asking too many questions, was taken aback when I was telling her about the lesson I lead where we talked about what the kids thought about god (the answer: reincarnation, probably real; God, probably not real). When it comes to matters of faith, I'm of the opinion that giving kids the ability to think about what they believe and learning about what other people believe gives them the opportunity to stay open to the leadings of the Holy Spirit a while longer than the didactic methods favored by other Christian denominations. Does this mean that we end up with some non-theists who believe in reincarnation and care more about the environment than the Spirit? Sure. But we don't end up with a large number of young adults who hate organized religion. I'd like to believe that this leaves them more open to the movement of the Spirit within as they grow older. I believe that we are drawn into the Community of Believers in God's time and the best way be can prepare our children for that is to keep them open to the ideas that God might exist and have a plan for them.

One of the things that I value most about my Quaker education was that I got to talk, really talk, to a number of adults about their faith and their faith in practice. Taking the time to be one of those grownups for a new generation of young Quakers is important to me. It's not a strong leading, it's not a long term commitment. It's something that I can do to give back to a Society which has given so much to me.

While I often come home from First Day School exhausted and mumbling incoherently about heathens, I've decided to go ahead and teach the junior high class again next semester. The curriculum, as set by the Meeting, covers the parables of Jesus next trimester and I'm looking forward to introducing them to the back half of the Bible. Maybe I'll even be able to share enough of my faith that they'll be able to realize someday that Evangelical and Christian aren't mutually inclusive terms. I could tell them that, of course, but they wouldn't listen. They're Quaker kids and they'll need to figure it out for themselves in their own time.

Yes, you have have snack now.

Love,
Elizabeth Bathurst

Niebuhr, Niebuhr, Niebuhr

2007-11-09T13:55:00.001-05:00

Nothing worth doing is completed in our lifetime,
Therefore, we are saved by hope.
Nothing true or beautiful or good makes complete sense in any immediate context of history;
Therefore, we are saved by faith.
Nothing we do, however virtuous, can be accomplished alone.
Therefore, we are saved by love.
No virtuous act is quite as virtuous from the standpoint of our friend or foe as from our own;
Therefore, we are saved by the final form of love which is forgiveness.

-Reinhold Niebuhr

Love that dirty water

2007-10-22T11:09:00.001-05:00

On Thursday night, I'll be attending a fundraiser for a local organization that's fighting for public transportation equity in my area. Afterwards, I'm having some folks over to watch the game.

It's hard not to get swept up in the joy that is Boston in October. We are Red Sox nation, and when things are good, they're really good. It's fun to be a part of it all; checking the scores, sharing them with friends and strangers, singing sweet caroline in the streets or on the subway.

Getting excited about public hearings about public transportation is a whole lot harder. There will be locally-made chocolates at the fundraiser, which should make it easier. The governor has recently said that he's planning to put up the funds to get the greenline extension finished ahead of schedule which seems to have some people hopeful. I'm still thinking a lawsuit is likely to be necessary, given the current timeline, the history of postponement, and the health risks involved. The Big Dig has not been kind to Somerville.

I'm feeling really connected to my community, and it certainly helps that my community includes people I can call friends, but it is sad to me that my involvement with the Quakers in the area is so limited. Is the disconnect because I am a "young adult" who'd rather not hang out with the Young Adults? Is the disconnect because New Englanders are decidedly less friendly that Southerners? Or is it because of the theological differences that separate us? I imagine it's all of the above. The reticent New Englanders expect the young adults to take me in, but I have no interest in their potlucks. I hung out with young adults while I was in college, and even then I didn't always feel that our age was significant enough to bind us together. Once I get the "real grown-ups" to really talk to me, they don't seem to like me very much.

I'm loving my community right now. I just wish I felt as involved, included and welcomed at the Quaker meeting as I do elsewhere.

Love,
Elizabeth Bathurst

God's baby.

2007-10-04T08:52:00.001-05:00

My mother retells a story sometimes (often when she's proud of one of her own kids) about an elder in our Yearly Meeting, whose mother-in-law would remind her "now, Liz, this is not your baby, this is God's baby" upon seeing a child for the first time.

One of God's babies had a very difficult time getting out of the womb over the weekend. His shoulders were too broad and he got his umbilical cord wrapped around his neck. Little Elijah stopped breathing, and once they got him out (by breaking his collarbone) it took fourteen minutes to resuscitate him. Needless to say, his condition is rather grave. He is in good hands: his mama who is full up with love, a cutting edge medical team at Duke, and God's.

Via text message this morning, his mother informs me that he is doing "pretty good today" which is encouraging. Your prayers are still appreciated.

Love,
Elizabeth Bathurst

Isaiah, again.

2007-09-25T16:05:00.001-05:00

In times of darkness I return again and again to Isaiah:

Comfort, O comfort my people
speak gently to Jerusalem and cry to her
that she has served her term
that her penance is paid,
that she has received from the Lord's hand
double for all her sins.

Although today is dark and I am not where I want to be, I can take comfort that I am not where I once was and that He is with me. Even more, I can take comfort in knowing that I am where he wants me to be. Healing comes slowly, a gradual baptism by fire.

But he was pierced for our transgressions,
he was crushed for our iniquities;
the punishment that brought us peace was upon him,
and by his wounds we are healed.

True sanctification comes slowly, from the Lord's hand, in the Lord's time. We cannot announce that we are ready and claim it for ourselves. We must continually open ourselves to the Holy Silence, again and again, especially when we feel heavy under the weight of our transgressions.

I will be speaking gently to myself this evening, pausing to remember as needed what the Lord's hand feels like on my forehead.

I will run and not grow weary, I will walk and not faint.

Love,
Elizabeth Bathurst

I really suck at online dating...

2007-09-15T10:28:00.000-05:00

I've recently signed up for an online dating account and have mentioned Quakerism. This is bringing all sorts of people who were raised Quaker out of the woodwork and has lead to some interesting conversations...

I think that talking about early Quaker theology is incredibly practical. Far too many Friends have forgotten that the peace testimony is a practical application of a cohesive interpretation of Scripture. On one end of the spectrum, my First Day School kids don't know that Jesus appears towards the end of the Bible despite being in junior high. On the other end of the spectrum are Friends who still talk about Jesus all the time, but have almost completely abandoned Quaker theology over the years, primarily to water it down to attract more members. But then again, I actually believe in all that early silliness about Christ coming to teach his people himself. In my many years of doing things with non-conservative friends of both kinds, I find that the lack of theological understanding terminally weakens their understanding of Quaker practices. They have to compensate with enthusiasm, which can draw them ever further from the Source. Their silences are shallower on the whole. Theology is the core of our faith, of any faith really, and continuing revelation is not the same thing as making it up as we go along.

I suppose by "conversations" I mean rants, but whatever. I sent this in an email to someone, but decided that it needed to also be posted here. I imagine that I'll get a better conversation out of the blogging community then out of a stranger who is looking for a date.

Love,
Elizabeth Bathurst

How I'm praying today.

2007-09-10T09:11:00.000-05:00

I've been thinking about James' post on prayer and I thought I'd share how I'm praying today. My grandmother is having surgery this morning to remove her gallbladder. It's not a particularly risky surgery, but she is an octogenarian and very dear to me so I'm still quite concerned. When I'm unable to distract myself with work, I've been praying stuff like this:

May Your will be done with as little pain and suffering as possible. Please watch over the hospital staff and my family today, especially my grandfather and mother as they care for my grandmother.

Your prayers are appreciated as well.

Love,
Elizabeth

Faithful Farming

2007-08-27T21:48:00.000-05:00

I was sent a link to this article recently. It gives me great cheer to read such things. It has been a weight on my heart that organic food is so expensive and that until the last couple of years was relegated to specialty stores. As someone whose income has been hovering around the poverty line (both intentionally and unintentionally) for years it saddens me that the poorer you are the harder it is to get organic and/or responsibly grown food.

I would eat completely different if I could afford it. But between cost and convenience, I haven't eaten as well as I would like in a long while. I say cost and convenience because organic products are more available at major grocery stores these days but locally grown food is still often relegated to farmers markets--which I love but rarely have the time to get to. Time is a big issue for those of us living paycheck to paycheck...I don't have time to eat, much less go to special venues for food.

However, now that grocery stores are offering more organic types of foods sometimes you can get good deals on it. And I keep telling myself the more we buy at the regular grocery the more we can convince someone that this is a viable market and maybe one day we can bring the prices down...though now that I think about it, this point may be mute as it seems regular groceries are costing more and more each week.

What most stuck me about the article though was that it was religious groups leading the way for these more ethical farming practices. It isn't just about whether to go organic or not but that there needs to be more mindfulness of the whole product. The treatment of the workers and the animals needs to be ethical. These are not new concepts for people of faith. The Catholic Worker has had ties to farms throughout its existence.

The combination of faith to bring about ethical farming practices (doing right by the workers, the animals, and the plants) and my undying hope that through continually trying to make organic and whole foods more available on an equal scale to over-processed foods, will one day lead to a level buying field between such products gives me great joy after reading the article.

Another point in this article to reflect on is that sometimes fundamentalism may not be a bad thing...though I would like to think of it more as a Conservatism...as it manifests Conservative Quakers.

So what say you, faithful readers?

Conversations with God: How do you pray? Part 1

2007-08-19T15:43:00.000-05:00

I know how to settle myself into worship. I know what it is like to be really centered and in that place of expectant worship. And I have tons of informal conversations throughout the day with my version of God. But how do you pray?

I don't even know how to ask for help or guideance in my everyday life from regular folks. How can I possibly do it in my spiritual life? At night I try to pray in a way I began imagining as a child after reading Laura Ingalls Wilder books. But I really feel that sometimes formal prayer is all about wording. Like the saying, "Becareful what you ask for." So it is with prayer. I feel that if I don't word things just right I will indeed get what I am praying for, but not in the ways I had conceived of it.

I am a big believer in the idea that we can ask all we want for something, but the steps we take to work towards that which we pray, through the way we live our lives, is equally important. As a child I used to pray for world peace...which is a really complex goal that has many intricacies, it needs a combination of prayer and personal action. Now I feel like the big stuff, like world peace and a cleaner, safer environment are the backdrop to my conversations with God. God knows my heart, perhaps better than I do, but it is up to me to address issues weighing on me with God. By asking for help and asking God to take up certain things I can let some of it go to do better Works. Granted, I have been only asking for help with two things for many weeks now. Mostly, its because I haven't gotten the wording right...I am terribly fearful at what will happen if we can't make these things work, God and I. I know I should give them over to his wisdom and powers, but the most important one is something I don't know how to give up...and that is the crux of the issue. It is something that I have little control over, yet the thought of living without it is heartbreaking. And the worst of it is, I do not know what steps I can take myself to help God's plan. But I am going to keep praying...because I am not ready to accept a life without the object of my desire.

Love. Love. Love.

2007-08-14T16:09:00.000-05:00

This post is rather long and full of quotes. Bear with me.

Sometimes, I like to listen to mellow music while I work. This means I can listen to a lot of love songs over the course of a day. There are a lot of different kinds of love in my ipod:

"My girl, linen and curls
Lips parting like a flag'll unfurl
She's grand, the bend of her hand
Digging deep into the sweep of the sand"
-the Decemberists

"and you were no picnic
you were no prize
but you had just enough pathos
to keep me hypnotized"
-Ani Difranco

"And if I could hold on
Through the tears and the laughter
Would it be beautiful?
Or just a beautiful disaster"
-Kelly Clarkson

"I turned around
before I could run
I found you already settled down
in the back of my mind"
-Alison Krauss

"I've got doubts I can't even count.
I've got mirrors that take me apart.
I've got blues, a melting revolt.
I've got songs that stall when they start.
I've got you babe.
Diamonds and pearls, babe.
I've got you girl, that's all I need."
-The Damnwells

"If you want a father for your child
Or only want to walk with me a while
Across the sand
I'm your man"
-Leonard Cohen

"I'll love you till heaven rips the stars from his coat
and the moon rows away in a glass bottom boat."
-Peter Mayer

There are a lot of love songs out there and I know that there are a lot of kinds of love. I'm pretty comfortable with a loving parent/child relationship with my Creator, but I know that doesn't work for everyone. That's okay, because God is all kinds of love.

"Beloved, let us love one another, because love is from God; everyone who loves is born of God and knows God. Whoever does not love does not know God, for God is love."
1 John 4:7-8.

"Everyone who loves" is a strong statement. On the other hand, saying that knowing love and knowing God are the same thing seems overly simplistic. Especially when our culture has a great deal of trouble distinguishing between love and like:

Bianca: There's a difference between like and love. Because, I like my Skechers, but I love my Prada backpack.
Chastity: But I love my Skechers.
Bianca: That's because you don't have a Prada backpack.
-10 things I hate about you

Is it the act of love which makes us open to the knowledge of God? Are we to believe that the capacity for love is inherently human, something which each and every one of us is born with, just as each of us is born with an inherent knowledge of God?

I don't have the answers to these questions. All I know is that I know God in an intimate and yet limited fashion, just as I know love in an intimate and yet limited fashion. I know what it is to be loved and to love, both my neighbor and my God. Oh, and I know that those feelings are pretty awesome.

Love,
Elizabeth Bathurst

Personal Query #8

2007-08-14T14:42:00.001-05:00

Remembering that excesses which are harmful to human beings are abhorrent to Friends, what can I do to lessen such excesses in my own life, or by example to help others?

I generally think of this query as being about addictive substances. I don't drink to excess any more, I have valid prescriptions for all the drugs I take, and I've smoked about 3-5 cigarettes in the past year or so. I encourage my friends to hang out at times in ways that don't include drinking, especially those who might be drinking a bit much lately. I don't share my pills with folks who would like to take them recreationally. All of this could make answering this query quite easy.

But when I broaden it out to think about what excesses I do have in my life, the picture isn't as pretty. Do I spend my money and time on frivolous things? All the time. How many pairs of leather-free shoes counts as excessive? Okay, I really don't need to ask that question. I know I have more than enough pairs of shoes. But is my shoe collection harmful? I don't know. The hot pink pumps are frivolous, to be certain, but at what point does frivolity become harmful? Is there a time/financial limit? Is one hour of mindless television okay? What about four?

I debated on whether to buy the pink pumps. They are utterly ridiculous. They were also less than five bucks at Goodwill. They amuse me and a little bit of money went in a charitable direction. I think that so long as I'm asking myself if each decision is frivolous, excessive or harmful I'm going to come out okay in the end. It's about being mindful, not about precise pre-prescribed judgments. At least, that's how I see it right now.

Leave that crack alone

2007-07-31T13:08:00.001-05:00

Sometimes, people make bad decisions. Really bad decisions. I know of someone who has been making some very bad decisions lately. I find the whole situation upsetting and the details frustrating. How could she be so foolish? What was she thinking? How could she possibly be that stupid and thoughtless? AAAHHHHH!

As I write this, I realize this could actually apply to a lot of different people. From Lindsey Lohan and Nicole Richie to people I actually know to people I deeply care about to people I've never heard of who are nonetheless ruining their lives and the lives of others.

I can't convince any of these people that driving drunk, smoking pot while pregnant, sleeping with someone who doesn't respect you, etc are bad choices. Even if I could talk to them, they certainly wouldn't listen to me. I can't fix these problems but it is incredibly frustrating to see people making mistake after mistake when if they would just listen to me maybe, just maybe, they'd be okay. Not great, but okay.

I imagine that's the level of frustration God has with us. With me. I've make mistakes. I've sinned out of foolishness, out of arrogance, out of anger and fear and he has forgiven me. It's what He does. His mercy is unfathomable and I would do well to remember this a little more often.

The people I'm angry with right now about their stupid decisions for the most part have no idea I'm angry with them. Whether or not I can forgive them is a matter of my own heart and in the grand scheme of things doesn't matter all that much. They are in dire need of His forgiveness, however. It wouldn't hurt if they would listen to their freaking doctors, either.

Love,
Elizabeth Bathurst

That was easy! (NCYM-C Sessions 2007)

2007-07-18T09:11:00.001-05:00

Whenever a really simple bit of business was completed, our clerk would press a red plastic "easy button" which would announce cheerfully: "That was easy!" Rumor has it that after a while, Sid's easy button was confiscated. I didn't attend a whole lot of business sessions so that I could recover from and prepare for Bible study, but I was deeply amused by the stories I heard about the "easy button."

In the commercials for the company which makes the "easy button," some sort of complicated office mess is cleaned up by hitting the "easy button". I could have used that while organizing the panel discussion for Saturday night.

After much pulling of teeth, four young adults were wrangled for a panel discussion on growing up in NCYM-C. My answer to one of the questions seemed to touch quite a few people, so I'm going to try to reproduce it here.

Do you have any fond or valuable memories of older Friends that have been meaningful to you on a continuing basis. Did you find any role models among Yearly Meeting Friends outside your immediate family?

Anytime that I am sitting in worship feeling cranky about a leading to speak, I think of Alfred Newlin. He was a recorded minister in a tiny rural meeting in Alamance County. Towards the end of his life, as he was losing his battle with lung cancer, he would sometimes have coughing fits that took him out of worship. For the last few months at least, he was coughing bright red blood into his handkerchief. I remember being told that Alfred was refusing to take the painkillers that his doctors had prescribed because he was afraid of becoming addicted to them, so I imagine he was in a great deal of pain. Every First Day that I was able to attend West Grove, Alfred stood up and gave his message and I never heard him complain. Not about having an incurable cancer, not about the pain, not about death, and never about having to keep up his ministry as he was dying.

I told this story on a panel that I really didn't want to take part in. I thought leading Bible Study was enough. I was still recovering from a migraine I had gotten that afternoon. And I really thought that since the panel was my father's idea that he should have been the one trying to convince people to sit on it. Okay, I still think that. But in the end, I think that the panel went well and I'm glad I participated. It wasn't that hard to talk about the things that we were asked to talk about (especially since many of them were conversations that we as YAFs have had with each other over and over and over). In the end, getting a couple young ladies' butts in the seats and crying a little as I talked about Alfred Newlin wasn't hard at all. In fact, it might well have been an occasion for Sid to use his "easy button."

Love,
Elizabeth Bathurst

Intellectual Quakerism: Of birthrights, convincement, and ethnic Quakers

2007-07-13T20:06:00.000-05:00

I started this off with the intention of discussing "Birthright" quakers. I really liked what I had read on the post about birthright quakers from Quaker Street (and I would just like to state that sometimes the best conduct comes from convinced Friends). The post itself and the discussion in the comments was very good. I don't actually know that I can add anything. However, it made me recall some of my first days in big league Quaker circles.

As I have stated in several previous posts I grew up in the middle of no-where-Minnesota. I did not attend Meeting regularly till I was 12. And I choose to go to a Quaker College for the community provided and the opportunity to be surrounded by many other young Friends. I had missed out on going to summer camps and retreats and other such important developmental social functions of young Quakers. I mean yea, I had gone to FGC and yearly meeting and FINALLY got to go to some teen retreats, but I just felt like I was missing something.

However, my midwestern conceptual framework of Quakers was challenged when I arrived at college. The scholarship program I had somehow gotten into seemed to be filled with super-Quakers with connections to big names in Quaker circles, related to influential historical figures, and who had grown up Quaker --filled with camps, social circles, and friendships. While it was annoying that some of the people I was meeting in the program had to express that they new this person and that one...the really annoying part was when they would point out how they were related to insert famous name here. And how they were birthright and that their family had been Quaker for ions. It made me feel small, insignificant, and unworldly. I didn't think Quakers would be like that. I didn't know if I was related to famous Quakers, though my mother's side of the family has been Quaker for ions. It wasn't something that was important to my family...we are more of the live your life, let it speak for you kind of family. Not the speak to make your life more important kind. Which is often what happens with Quakers who feel the need to make you constantly aware of their lineage and relative importance (by way of birthrightness and who they are related to). Now, since I am pointing fingers it should probably be said that I consider Birthright to mean that you are born into the care of a meeting...technically, I was. My mother was a member of a meeting and I was born into the care of the meeting...I still have yet to attend said meeting. But I do consider myself Birthright...I don't care if the Society considers me to be one or not. At 16, I had a clearness committee to become a member of my home meeting. So I am Quaker and that is what matters.

Now, what does this have to do with Intellectual Quakerism. Sometimes it appears to me, that convinced friends (or fellow travelers who attend and don't commit) often love the intellectual aspects of what Friends say in our testimonies and other publications and discussions. In fact, they spend time devouring the writings and practices but have difficulty really getting into the practice and Spiritual practices. The theoretical ideals of Quakers are only a layer of the whole. What are Quakers? Are we a sect? A cult? That is sorta what we were considered early on...but we are a Christian sect...take away Christ and we are just a Peculiar People...which may be more like a cult...with no Charismatic leader...Now before, you start to think I am intolerant of those who do not love themselves some Christ...that is hardly the case...but at the peculiar Quaker College...I somehow learned to be a Christian...Perhaps I should start hyphenating my Quakerness as a Christian-Quaker.

But in truth I want to introduce a concept. Ethnically Quaker.

The term is not my own. A friend first used this in my presence at the retreat in Burlington. We used it to discuss how as individuals who come from Quaker stock, have a tendency as young adults we tend to drift away but cannot imagine being anything else. The ethnic Quaker is a term which to me has a softer tone than Birthright...because you are what you are, imbued with certain attributes based on how you were raised. I also don't see the type of person who loves to shove every one's noses in their birthrightness as using the term ethnically Quaker very often. However, I do think that us ethnic Quakers have an ingrained feel of Quakerism. We know when its right or wrong even if we can't tell you what that is. Sometimes I worry that convinced Friends rely too much on the theoretical ideal of Quakerism making it too cerebral when the theoretical underpinnings of Quakerism are only a fraction of the whole. I am not entirely convinced you can know Quakerism until you have truly felt the stirrings of the Spirit of the living God. Because being a minister (as we all are in Quakerism) means feeling the touch of God. The Nudge. The Stirring. The Calling. The Test. But it is a connection to the Spirit of Life, that of God in you and the experiential--unless you get a little mystical, unless you let God in--regardless of what you call it, you won't get Quakerism. It is not purely theoretical.

O, HAI.

2007-07-06T14:46:00.001-05:00

I'm headed off to North Carolina for NCYM-C Sessions, where I'll be leading Bible Study on Isaiah, Early Friends and the Christian Gospel. I'm planning to write up some reflections when I get back, but in the meantime I'll leave you all with this image:

Love,
Elizabeth Bathurst

Notes at 1:30am

2007-07-04T17:02:00.001-05:00

I would like to take a moment to apologize for my last two posts oh-so-many months ago. Not for their personal nature but for how they were expressed. The experiential nature of Quakerism has lead us to value life's experiences as it reveals the Truths necessary to continuing revelations of the Spirit in our lives thereby creating a "kingdom of God" here on this earth. So it is not that I regret the highly personal nature of the posts but the whiney adolescent tone. As a result I took time away from the Quaking Harlot and blogging.

Currently, I have been following conversations on the blogshere and am working on several posts relating to progressive politics and religion, theism and non-theism, convergent Friends, and that thorny issue of "birthright" Quakers.

Peace be with you. And to those of you lucky enough to be at FGC enjoy! The campus at River Falls is very dear to me. As someone from NYM I have spent many lovely times there for YM and was present last time FGC visited.

"and everywhere the world is bare"

2007-06-15T10:28:00.001-05:00

When things inevitably go wrong and they inevitably do, I want to curl up in my bed and savor the darkest silence I can find. This is of course, not the best of choices, as it is rarely dark enough and never quiet enough and there's only so much staring at a wall I can do before my thoughts begin to spiral dangerously downward. When things look bleak and I am in need of comfort, I recall a couple of verses from Isaiah:

Comfort, O, Comfort my people!
Speak tenderly to Jerusalem
and cry to her that she has served her term,
that her penance is paid,
that she has received from the Lord's hand
double for all her sins. (Isaiah 40:1-2)

This is the verse I use to remember the feeling I had when I first felt the overpowering glory of forgiveness. Whether I am standing on an overcrowded train, or huddled in my bed or sitting at my desk, I can recite this verse to myself and remember that although my fellow humans may fail me time and time again, He never will. I know that I can place my hope in the Lord and have my strength renewed and that is all I'll ever need.

The support of my dear friends and a little Avril seem to be helping for the moment as well:

Don't pretend, I think you know I'm damn precious
And hell yeah, I'm the motherfuckin' princess

Many thanks for the tea and sympathy,
Elizabeth Bathurst

*For those of you who will be attending NCYM-C sessions next month, I'll be covering Isaiah 40 more in depth, probably on First Day morning.
**Avril will not be covered.
***Sorry about the language, Mama.

Personal Query #5

2007-06-01T09:04:00.001-05:00

To what extent is the performance of my worldly duties promoting or hindering my growth in grace and my service for God?

At the moment, there are a lot of things distracting me. I'm conducting a roommate search, exploring a new relationship, and spending a lot of time/energy on my therapy. It's a busy time of year at work, as we approach the end of the fiscal year and budgets must be spent out.

I think that there are ways in which getting my head fixed is helpful to my service for God. It's easier for me to find time to do service work and personal acts of kindness now that I'm doing pretty good. It's also much easier for me to center in worship when my crazy is under control. It's a good feeling, but it also takes a lot of effort.

I wish that I had more time for blogging. It's good for me. I need this space to put my thoughts in order and focus on my spiritual life. I think that it's going to continue to be on the back burner as I prepare for Yearly Meeting. I've still got a lot to think about and a lot to read in order to feel comfortable with leading the things I've agreed to lead. Perhaps I'll get over the hump soon and start enjoying the preparations and get some spiritual satisfaction out of them, but at the moment I just feel utterly overwhelmed.

Love is like rain, Part 2.

2007-06-01T08:43:00.001-05:00

once again, this was written a little while ago. I apologize for the delay.

It's another dreary day in Boston. Perhaps the fourth day since we've seen the sun and everyone is getting a little cranky.

Last night, a good friend got engaged. I got word this afternoon that some college classmates are expecting their first child. It's spring and love is in the air.

I'm not immune. In a fit of foolishness, I accepted a date with a lovely man. He's wonderful and bright and everything I would look for in a man, if I were looking.

The first couple of weeks were great. He made excellent conversation and wrote me frequent witty emails. I was smiling and distracted and nothing bothered me all that much.

But last night, things changed. It became clear that things couldn't stay that way forever. It's time to start the unpleasant intimate conversations I'd rather not have. I'm spending too much time thinking about how to tell him x, y, and z when I ought to be doing ten other things. I'm already worried, terrified even of how these conversations will go. I have other things to do. It's not fair that I have to take these things into consideration.

Perhaps my reservations about relationships and love are based entirely in fear. Perhaps I just need to suck it up and hope that there's something comforting and elegant on the other side of this storm. But right now, I can only see fields of mud. I'm already cold and I have no idea if I'll ever be dry and warm again.

I've always taken comfort in the teachings of Christ about marriage:

"Not everyone who can accept this teaching but only those to whom it is given. For there are eunuchs who have been so since birth, and there are eunuchs who have been made eunuchs by others, and there are eunuchs who have made themselves eunuchs for the sake of the kingdom of heaven. Let anyone accept this who can". (Matthew 19:10-12)

It's okay not to be married. It is not an affront to God to forgo this sacrament. It might bother my grandmother, but really, Jesus matters more.

Paul takes it a little further (as always.) It's not just okay for people to go through life without marriage, it's prefereable. After all, there's more time to focus on living an obidient Christian life when you don't have to worry about maintaining a marriage relationship or support a family.

You might as well get married if you can't keep it in your pants.

Being single is pretty easy for me. I really only have moments of wanting romantic moments in my life. I'm comforted in those moments by the Bible and by my relationship with Christ.

But now there's the young man in my life and already everything is complicated. I'm worried that already I'm being less attentive to the movement of the Spirit. I'm more interested in seeing if he's emailed me.

But I also can't wait to see him on Monday.

Love,
Elizabeth Bathurst

Easter reflections

2007-04-12T11:53:00.001-05:00

Sometimes, it's hard for me to distinguish between different types of liberal friends. The majority of stuff I hear about FGC makes me roll my eyes. The tendency of certain active and well-known members in the large meeting I now attend to stand up and rebuke any ministry that is given about Christ is upsetting to me. The practice of combative "ministry," the aggressive dislike of Christianity, and the tendency to give membership to people who perhaps need a little more seasoning in order to truly believe in Quaker process and methods of worship make me long for more Conservative-style worship.

I am aware that there are many reasons to be uncomfortable with Christianity: aggressive evangelism, historical and contemporary persecution in Jesus' name, etc. I'm also aware that the "SPICE" testimonies which FGC friends tend to be so fond of are based in a cohesive and flexible interpretation of scripture. My own mother finds her feminism often conflicts with the New Testament, which is understandable given how much her Catholic upbringing/education chafed against her ideas about women and equality. It was when I announced when I was about two years old that I wanted to be a priest that my parents finally left the Catholic Church for Princeton Friends Meeting.

Over the weekend, I had the chance to worship with Princeton Friends for Easter. Princeton, like my local meeting, is an unprogrammed dual-affiliated (FGC/FUM) meeting in a college town. Unlike my local meeting, Princeton is a small meeting in a semi-rural setting on the outskirts of town. And there I found that several members were lead to speak of the crucifixion story and were not rebuked during worship by someone who identifies as a non-theist or pagan or Jewish Friend. I am certain these elements are present in the meeting, especially given the items and wishes that I was asked to pass on to family members, but they weren't combative, at least not on Easter Sunday.

I am trying to think of what I might be able to do to help heal the wounds that cause so much of the anti-Christian sentiment where I worship. I will continue to faithfully give the messages I am given, which are so often about comfort, sin, obedience, redemption, forgiveness and Christ's love. I will continue to spread the gospel as I am asked, although I feel my voice is largely unwelcomed. I don't feel that every Quaker needs to be fully Christian, but I simply can't understand how one can be virulently anti-Christian and still be a Quaker. Why can't one of the paths up the mountain be hand in hand with Christ Jesus?

I know that whatever I do, it will only be so far as I am led. In thinking about this issue, the only thing that is clear to me is that I need to continue to be fully honest about my faith. Honest about my universalism and it's limits. Honest about the power of Christian Salvation in my life. Honest about my struggles with theology and scripture. And perhaps most importantly, honest about how uncomfortable I feel expressing my Christianity in the Big Urban Meeting I attend.

My Struggles; Isolation

2007-04-02T14:23:00.000-05:00

I find myself trying to establish a social network --again. This is the fourth time in six years, 1) after college returning to Minnesota, 2) moving back to North Carolina after 3 years in Minnesota, 3)moving to Maryland to start graduate school, and now 4) the transition from graduate school to professional life and finding friends with a similar schedules...

I have found that more often than not my life consists of work...with very little social outlet. I have a weekly "date" with a F/friend, who I first met at a NYM (Northern Yearly Meeting) youth retreat when I was 16. She and I ended up in Baltimore serendipitously about the same time. I am thankful for our weekly dinners, however, as our lives go in various directions we are braking the date more and more frequently.

I have two friends from school I see semi-regularly when our schedules permit. I am certainly not complaining that I only have a few friends in the area...but it can get lonely, living in a big city and doing most things solo...

I told God that my only resolution for 2007 was to go to meeting more often. But that he was responsible for getting my up in time. Which is perhaps not fair, but part of being faithful is being lead. Going to meeting frequently would not only be good for the obvious spiritual reasons...and lord knows I need to spend more time being devote and working on being centered. But it would also provide me with a healthy social outlet. The community of corporate worship would be good. However, even when I am up on Sunday mornings I don't always get to meeting.

I have had several instances of impending panic attacks on my way to meeting. Sometimes this has to do with parking, sometimes this has to do with which meeting I am trying to go to, and sometimes it is the thought of having to face so many new people all alone. When I get the feeling that I am working my way toward a panic attack or feel my blood pressure rising...I usually abort my mission. It seems to be counter-productive to get that worked up in an attempt to stave off my spiritual malnutrition to center myself to deal with the week ahead. When I have managed to get myself to meeting without any problems, it has been a very rewarding experience. So why do I make it so difficult on myself to attend regularly?

My Struggles; youthful idealism

2007-04-01T15:13:00.000-05:00

y'all really don't know my life
y'all really don't know my struggles
or how much liquor I guzzle
y'all really don't know my fears
and how many years to get here

Missy Elliott, My Struggles

I always wondered how the idealism of the '60's morphed into the greed and me-first attitudes of the Yuppies in the '80's. And for the same reasons why do so many people scoff at the "idealism of youth." But I am starting to understand the connection. It is the same reason that there is a saying about Quakers that says, "Quakers came to the new world to do good --instead they did well."

Recently, I have found myself putting income ahead of passion. I want to earn enough money to make rent and have an apartment to myself. However, things are never that simple. It's a selfish decision that will cost a lot even it it appears to be imbued with simplicity on the outside. I have debts. I don't have any furniture. And right now I don't have money for a deposit. Much less rent for this month. I don't want to live paycheck to paycheck anymore. I looking for work and if I resign myself to a boring bureaucratic life I can easily stop having to worry about finances within a year.

How nice it would be to not have to lie awake at night thinking about the shell game of my finances. The pages of lists and spread sheets of my personal budget are imprinted on my eyelids. Or having to open the file of my excel spread sheet budget "My Financial Goatfuck" every pay day and see my paycheck evaporate and only pay down the list of "I owe" by a hundred dollars, even though I paid much more than that--gotta love interest.

I have spent the last few months reading pulp sci-fi. It keeps me occupied enough to not be tempted to spend money. I go to work, come home sometimes have dinner and then read for 4 hours and go to bed. I have virtually stopped drinking and am toying with stopping smoking. At this rate I will be well prepared to become a cog in the bureaucratic machine and a cat lady. Ready to embrace my powerfully mundane existence. A deal with the devil, financial security is yours it will only cost you your personality and humanity.

I think I understand now what happened to the idealism of the '60's...and I am not happy about it.

To be continued...

Personal Query #3

2007-03-28T12:57:00.001-05:00

Do I make a place in my daily life for inward retirement and communion with the Divine Spirit? To what extent has this brought satisfaction spiritually? Are there ways in which I might attain greater satisfaction or inspiration? Does my daily schedule need review and revision at this time?

While I'd like to believe that I am always open to the movements of the spirit in my daily life, I don't make space in my daily routine for prayer or bible study. It happens as it happens, which is not all that infrequently. I'd like to have it happen more often, even daily, but I don't think that's something that I can fit into my daily schedule right now. My everyday life is overwhelming to me as it is. If I were to set aside time for prayer would that ground me and make it easier for me to fit in everything else? Would it cheapen my extemporaneous prayers by making it just another thing I need to get done today before I can go to bed? I'm so unsteady, so unbalanced that right now I can't get very far with the answers to those questions, much less make any changes to my schedule. I've just got to keep the ball rolling. Maybe this is my crazy talking, but it's also my crazy-management-skills talking. When things calm down again, perhaps I can make some changes, but you don't reorganize the tupperware drawer while the smoke alarm is going off. I'm pretty sure it's just some burnt toast and not a grease fire this time, but I think this metaphor has gone far enough. Lord, hold me close and get me through this day. I can't do it without you.

Love,
Elizabeth Bathurst

What kiddie table?

2007-03-28T12:07:00.001-05:00

Last night, I went to the opera. The audience, though decidedly better dressed, had similar demographics to a Quaker meeting, as well as many library functions. Grey hair and white skin abound. In all three of these arenas I regularly hear that the greying of the profession/audience/meeting is a problem. Where are the young people? What's going to happen when all the opera-goers, elderly Quakers, and librarians retire or die?

On the train back from Symphony Hall I was surrounded by older couples examining their programs, who looked at me with bemusement when I joined in their conversations about the performance. This look of bemusement is common in all three arenas. It comes from a very different place than the occasional look of askance when a young person appears and speaks up, but there are ways in which it has the same effect. My fellow patrons of the art were pleased to have me there, but clearly dismissive of me. My love of the opera will keep me coming back so long as I can find affordable tickets, despite my feeling out of place, the same way that my love of metadata and order keeps me plowing ahead in my career. The same applies to my attendance at Quaker meeting. I'll keep coming back because my faith and my God require the spiritual practice of communal worship despite the fact that I feel like I'm not accepted in certain forums as a Real Quaker because I'm not over the age of fifty.

So just how did I find myself the object of bemusement at meeting, at work and at play? Mostly, I think I had adults in my life who always encouraged my interests, even when I appeared to lack the intellectual, spiritual or emotional depth the appreciate them fully. I would put myself to sleep by playing Beverly Sills on my Fisher Price Record Player as a preschooler. Many a Saturday afternoon was spent doing chores with the weekly Met broadcast on in the background. I was taken to performances and museums that my mother wanted to see and expected to behave as best I could. Additionally, I was blessed to be taken under the wing of a series of librarians who never avoided answering a question and gave me all the background information I could handle, even when I was just a student worker pasting barcodes on books.
And when it comes to my Quaker faith, my parents encouraged my explorations of different religions and denominations without censure. I had conversations with many Friends of different generations who treated me as a treasured member of the community. I was expected to attend and participate in worship to the best of my personal abilities, not as a member of a general age category. I had access a wide variety of Quaker texts in my home, even when some texts were clearly above my reading level. I didn't have trouble being taken seriously as an individual until I started interacting with Quakers outside of my yearly meeting. I don't know if this is because I grew up before their watchful eyes or if the way my yearly meeting approaches the spiritual development of our children is significantly different, but I have been blessed to have always been treated as a full member of my meeting and yearly meeting since I was a teenager.

Being taken under the wing of kindly members of an insular and aging group can be very important. Perhaps more important is for kindly members of that insular and aging group to treat newcomers, and especially young people, as individuals and have high expectations of them. Assuming that teenagers or young adults need to hang out with their peers to the exclusion of the life of the rest of the meeting or that children cannot be expected to sit in worship for an hour does not challenge them to join the community on their own time as individuals with individual strengths and gifts.

Love,
Elizabeth Bathurst

Love is like rain, part one

2007-03-19T07:48:00.000-05:00

I wrote this back in June, but it still applies. Except that the deary today is snow and not rain.

It's a dreary day in Boston. We're having a wimpy little thunderstorm at the moment and it reminded me of a quote from the book "Breath, Eyes, Memory":

"Love is like rain. It comes in a drizzle sometimes. Then it starts pouring and if you aren't careful it will drown you." -Edwidge Danicat

Love is a dangerous thing, binding us to one another. It's what holds us together but it can hurt like hell. I know that some people like falling in love, but I am not one of them.

I am at an age where many of my friends are cohabitating, getting married and/or reproducing. I love watching their babies grow. I'm happy for them when they have relationships that are healthy and fulfilling. But it's not what I want for myself. Definitely not now, and maybe not ever.

I should clarify this a little. I'd like to have children, but mostly in a biological clock kind of way. I'm pretty sure I don't want to raise a child alone and I really don't think I'd make a good partner.

While I occasionally have those wistful moments of wouldn't-it-be-nice-if-I-had-someone-to-hold-my-hand-and-buy-me-flowers, those moments are far outweighed by my deep and sincere love of privacy, solitude and independence.

More later...

Love,
Elizabeth Bathurst

Wandering

2007-03-18T19:45:00.000-05:00

Be strong and courageous; do not be frightened or dismayed, for the Lord your God is with you wherever you go. Joshua 1:9

I haven't forgotten about the blog. The blog is a tool to bring myself back to mediations and centered thought/action. My brain has been very active lately, so active that it is a jumble of rantings and incomplete thoughts. I think about blogging and I can't even see where to start. Or how to clear my head. I went to meeting last week. It was really good. That Sunday started off so well, meeting, a walk, I cooked...then the preasures about money and finances and the direction I am taking or not taking appeared on the horizon. I have been in a tailspin all week. I have too many big decisions in the next few months and not enough control over when I get to make the decisions...I have too many doors open, causing a wind tunnel that keeps me immobile. I keep waiting for them to shut...I keep waiting for the way to open, clearly with minimal obstruction...and it hasn't. I am tired...I am tired of questioning my future and my directions and my decisions that got me here, much less the decisions I am trying to make. And I don't have the financial resources to take the first steps I need to take to ease the weight of the crisis looming over my head right now. I try to be still and silent, but my head starts to feel like it will explode and that is not centeredness. I am four years past my Americorps year which marked true economic downturn in my life and the only changes are a Master's degree and the State I live in.

So I haven't disappeared. I just can't seem to find my way.

Happy are those who find wisdom, and those who get understanding...She is a tree of life to those who lay hold of her; those who hold her fast are called happy. Proverbs 3:13, 18

I said what, what?

2007-03-13T20:00:00.000-05:00

While answering questions about my sexual/reproductive history and intentions for a CDC survey a few weeks ago, I surprised myself. Not on how I answered the questions about cocaine and crack usage or whether I have had "sexual intercourse with a man in the rectum or butt (also known as anal sex)," but on the demographics questions.

The question about race has been confusing for me since I was in high school and I mostly get around that by not answering the question whenever I can. This wasn't an option but I did get to "check all that apply" which is second best. I grew up being told by my family that I was one thing and being seen by the rest of the world as another. I didn't have the concept of biracialism until I was a teenager and at times even that label has felt like selling out. Knowing that I will be faced with answering what race I am always causes some anxiety. What are the consequences of my answer/non-answer? It's stressful, more so even than talking about my sexual history with a complete stranger while she takes notes, but it's a known stress.

I know if I am going to be asked to check a box next to a racial category I'm going worry about whether or not I've made the right choice for a little while afterwards. I didn't realize that answering some of the religion questions would be so hard. "Christian, other" has become easy. I'm a Christian and I'm perfectly comfortable with the term and just about everything it implies. But then there was this follow-up question, asking me to check off words that applied to me like:

fundamentalist
born-again
conservative
evangelical

Three out of four were easy. I am not a fundamentalist. I am not conservative in the way that they mean. I am not evangelical. But born-again? I'm not like the Born-Again Christians I grew up around and I think eternal life sounds like a punishment, not a reward, and
I'm not convinced that Christ is the only way for everyone, but...
I do know that I had a life-changing spiritual experience in which I felt baptized in the Holy Spirit, which is really similar to that bit about being born again in the third chapter of John so maybe I am a born-again Christian. And now the CDC knows it.

Love,
Elizabeth Bathurst

Concerns Part II

2007-02-21T17:45:00.000-05:00

Perhaps it was returning from what has been one of the most profound experiences I have been apart of in a long time. Perhaps it was getting some quality time with the spirit resultined in a greater awareness of the areas in my life that need attention.

I struggled all day at work with a very bitter anger. I have just recieved a master's degree and am still doing the same type of work that I was doing right out of college. Basic administrative tasks, hand holding of my boss, and cleaning up my over extended boss' mess. It is yet again another in a series of jobs stretching over the last 6 years which both underpay and under-utilize me. It is not that I am devoted to earning a lot of money, but I do think that getting paid what you are worth is important. I have lived in both intentional and unitentional poverty; now I want to live a life where I don't have to go hungry throughout the week or cut every corner possible. I know that I am happiest in jobs that are helping my fellows and making the world better. I really believe in the project I am currently engaged in, however, at every turn there are empty promises and red-tape mixed with a lot of drudgery. While I am realistic that those are often present in even the best of jobs, this is daily a practice of patience and humility that would make even someone with a good temperment and a saintly demeanor have trouble.

I am just tired. I am tired of trying to do the best possible things with my life and being met with a series of bad timing. First it was the economic crash in 2001 when I graduated college, then it was a series of low paying jobs to (barely) pay the bills. Then a series of moves in Minnesota, a return to NC, and then Maryland. I want to sit still. I want to have roots. I want to feel centered in a greater way than just the spirit, my body and emotions need time to center. But those are not things that have been afforded me in the tender beginnings of adult life. Currently, I am waiting for a snafu with payroll to be fixed so I can actually be paid for working 40hrs a week, and then I can start to pay off my debts incurred while waiting for my tuition scholarship to be processed this fall...then I could deal with the odd (and the situation is a bit odd but for many reasons you will have to just trust me on that) demands of my job a bit better.

I had dinner last night with a F/friend of many years, and we were talking about what is going on in our lives and our frustrations...though our paths have differed in many ways, they often run in parallel. And what helped the most last night was to know that I am not alone. I have no answers or direction...but at least I am not alone.

Concerns

2007-02-20T09:58:00.000-05:00

I attended the gathering of YAF's in New Jersey this past weekend. I am still processing much of it. However, what is reoccurring in my head right now, it how wicked real adult life is. I am feeling spiritually re-awakened after being away from the Society for nearly six years. But upon returning to Baltimore all I can see and feel are constraints of my current life. It is very clear that I need a new job ASAP. That I need to move out of my living situation...but how broad to I make my search. I have usually been of the mind that I would return home--to Minnesota...but I have fallen in love with Baltimore and perhaps with someone residing here. But should I stay or move on? Do I return to my home and my family and my commitments to them or do I stay with my heart desires? Do I stay to find rewarding work here and see where the path leads with this relationship? The relationship looks like an awful mess from the outside and people wonder why I have not turned my back on it. Much like Baltimore itself looks to many.

I dislike transitioning. It is all I have done for the last six years. Perhaps it will be easier to follow my path now that I am ready to listen again.

Cranky

2007-02-01T19:48:00.000-05:00

Giving ministry takes quite a bit out of me. Less then it used to, but still enough to warrant a nap. Last First Day I was sitting in bed after breakfast, planning on enjoying a little house-to-myself when I got that nudge. I grumbled, went to meeting, said what I was given to say and then managed to enjoy the rest of a fairly centered meeting. When it was time for introductions, I reintroduced myself since I had spoken and don't know many people and in doing so identified myself as an irregular attender.
One of the Friends who came up to thank me for my message teased that I should come more often. I snarkily replied that I would if they would have centered meetings more often. I thought at the time I shouldn't have said it, but now I'm standing by it. It's important for meetings to be reminded that there are young adults who are seeking quality worship and no amount of potlucks or programming is going to draw them in. (I know this isn't a singular quality of young adults). A loving community would be awesome, but what I'm looking for in a "church family" is a group that consistently has centered worship.
By the way, the Friend's response was that meeting was more centered when I attended. It's a pretty apt reminder that we each play a part in the quality of every meeting we attend and that chances are I'm not helping matters by quietly stewing when someone gets up to give a movie review in the middle of worship.

Love,
Elizabeth Bathurst

Personal Query #2

2007-02-01T19:22:00.000-05:00

Am I striving to develop my physical, mental, and spiritual abilities and to use them to the glory of God? What have I recently undertaken to this end, and what future opportunities are sought?

My body is weak and it limits me. I tire easily and do not have the energy to do the volunteer work I would like to do. I am frequently ill and it takes me a while to recover from the mildest of infections. I know that part of this is a result of my being out of shape and part of it is physical symptoms of my mental illness. I have recently joined a gym and hope to make a habit of going regularly.

With regard to my mental abilities, I think I do all right. I read books that challenge me intellectually, both religious and secular. I have recently changed jobs to one that is far more intellectually stimulating. I'm aware that keeping my mind sharp and engaged, especially with a willingness engage in matters theological and sociological is an important part of being able to properly interpret my leadings.

I am anxious about developing my budding spiritual abilities. The only one I can think of at the moment is giving ministry, and I hate it. I hate hate hate hate speaking in meeting. I've gotten much better at standing up quickly and not dissociating nearly as much while I speak, but I still hate it. I really need to work on that part, I guess. I also worry about developing an ego with regard to giving ministry. It is important for me to remember that when I am speaking, I am speaking what the Lord would have me say. There is no pride to be had in being a vessel.

Taking the Lord's name in vain and the 12 commandments

2007-01-29T23:30:00.000-05:00

What does it mean to take the lord's name in vain?

I have recently been pondering this question. I think this question first formed in my mind when my boyfriend who was brought up Catholic became angry with me after I pulled one of my favorite Quaker jokes. He had misplaced a citation for his dissertation proposel and exclaimed, "Jesus Crist." I naturally answered, "yes." He looked at me and told me to watch my mouth, that that was blasphemous language. I replied, "No, there is that of god in all of us. So my responding to your utterance of 'Jesus Christ' is less blasphemous." At which point I think he quit listening ( I never said we were a functional couple).

However, the idea of what constitutes taking the lord's name in vain has continued to roll around in my brain. The answer that keeps coming to me, is that we take this statement too literally. That it is not as simple as avoiding using phrases like, "Jesus H. Christ" or "God Damn It."

The 10 Commandments begin:

I am the Lord your God, who brought you out of Egypt, out of the land of slavery.

You shall have no other gods before me.

You shall not make for yourself an idol in the form of anything in heaven above or on the earth beneath or in the waters below. You shall not bow down to them or worship them; for I, the Lord your God, am a jealous God, punishing the children for the sin of the fathers to the third generation of those who hate me, but showing love to a thousand generations of those who love me and keep my commandments.

You shall not misuse the name of the Lord your God, for the Lord will not hold anyone guiltless who misuses his name.

---Exodus 20:1-7, New International Version

It has occurred to me, that we misuse god's name a lot. We worship money, beauty, and youth...and sometimes god. We say that god doesn't like this or that. We have presidents who think they are here by some devine decree and then arrange wars, cheat the poor, and pamper the rich. I think that a lot of the talk about it being god's will to do this or believe that is in fact taking the Lord's Name In Vain. Who are we to know? Yes, you can try to be faithful, but part of being a vessel of the Lord is to discern what is worldly pride motivating us and what is divine humility. I think that every time we act with hate, prejudice, malice, or in any un-Loving manner we are taking the Lord's name in vain.

One of the main points Jesus makes in his teachings is the importance of love. I think that is infact what makes him stand out amongst the prophets of the Bible...LOVE.

Love the Lord your God with all with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind. This is the first and greatest commandment. And the second is like it: Love your neighbor as yourself. All the law and all the Prophets hang on these two commandments.

Matthew 22:37-40 New International Version

Because these two commandments that Jesus brought us are two of the hardest in many ways, that might answer why we are still so far from creating a lasting Kingdom of God here on Earth. Act from the divine; act from love.

Hate, intolerance, and quaker colleges

2007-01-23T21:05:00.000-05:00

As an alumni of two sites of higher education, I view each as very different. The institution where I received my master's degree was a means to an end and was not chosen with the same criteria as my undergraduate institution.

My undergraduate institution was chosen to learn about myself and the world. I wanted to go somewhere far away from home and to a Quaker institution. Guilford College in NC is where I ended up. I went there for a bigger purpose. There were many wonderful things that came with my time at Guilford. I met some of the most wonderful people in my life. I had amazing professors who ignited my love for a discipline I still work within. It was a time of great spiritual awakening, learning, and devotion.

I recently found out from another alum that over the weekend there was a racially motivated hate crime on the campus. The students who were attacked are Palestinian. They went to Ramallah Friends School, before coming to Guilford College. The attackers are from NC and are on the football team. It is a sad and sobering event. The college responded with this statement 72 hours after the event. More information in an article from the Greensboro News and Record. And the AP has picked it up.

I am having many mixed emotions at the moment that I should probably sit with until I know what is coming from a godly place and what is pure emotion. It pains me to see the media running stories connecting Quaker values and hate crimes. For now all we can do is to pray. Pray for the college community. Pray for the victims. Pray for the perpetrators. Pray for guidance in finding solutions to racism, intolerance, and ignorance. Pray for a day when we have true equality. Pray for a day when we have taken away occasion for war, strife, and violence. Pray for God's Kingdom here on Earth. Pray to be a vessel for God's work. Pray that the Spirit leads us to do good works to help create a more just and equitable and loving world.

The Nunnery, Part II: Living with an aching heart

2007-01-23T18:35:00.000-05:00

I have loved. That I suppose is better than having never loved. I am not talking the love I have for my family or my friends or God, nature and creation. I mean the love of lovers. And just when I was ready to tell you, you go away. I still don't know your reasons. I miss you, I love you. But its been a month since I heard your vioce. Our last conversation gave no hint that you were leaving me.

for you
i would no longer pick
my so-pickable nose
or bite my delicious nails

for you i would fix my teeth
and buy a mattress

for you
i'd kill my favorite roach
that lives in the woodwork
by the drawing table*

I never let myself dare to love before. But you...You made me feel ways I had never dared to hope for. With you I am comfortable and safe. I feel secure and unashamed when we are intimate. I loved that though you drank Budweiser, we could take about politics, social justice, and making the world better than we found it. With you I dared to hope that I had found someone who could love me, even with all of my neuroses and scary damaged places.

Yeah that was
once in a lifetime
baby

you gotta be clean and
with new shoes
to love like I loved you.

I think it won't happen again.*

But even though I love you so "ten dollar bill," you can't just disappear on me for a month--with only a vague email. Maybe if I were doing my research in Italy or if you were home in Kenya, I could understand going so long with such sparce communication. But as far as I can tell we are 30 minutes apart on opposite sides of the same city. And really it is indicitive of how you have always behaved...you made feel like I was a convience. That time with me only worked when it convient for you, that you were always holding back a little. But I loved you, and I knew that if you would just let down your guard we would have what I think we are both looking for. With you I knew I wasn't settling, but I would need a lot of patience. And if you were to show up on my doorstep tonight unannounced, I would be more than happy to welcome you back into my life.

damn you
lovely
you come and go
like rivers
which makes it hard
on rocks*

So how do you go about a breakup, when it isn't what your heart desires? I pray to god that I can find a way to work this out. That you will come back. That whatever happens things will resolve in a way where you and I can be happy and whole. Because even though I don't want to lose you, I want the best for you. Which is ironic because you won't do better than me.

In case you put me down I put you down
already, doll
I know the games you play

In case you put me down I got it figured
how there are better mouths than yours
more swinging bodies
wilder scenes than this.

In case you put me down it won't help much.*

Back to the nunnery with me. I don't like to date, too much effort and energy goes into it. I made an exception for you. I love you and god bless. And though I don't want to do it, I can't just keep waiting on you. Either come back and give me as much as I give you...or goodbye. It hurts, believe me. And I wish there wasn't such a large part of me hoping that you will return to me...

you are not quite
the air I breathe
thank god

so go. *

*All poems (in purple) are from More or less love poems by Diane DiPrima

Personal Query #1

2007-01-22T12:12:00.000-05:00

1) Do I cherish that of God within me, that His power growing in me may rule my life? Do I seek to follow Jesus Christ who shows us the Father and teaches us the way?

I have come to cherish the still small voice that resonates but does not originate in me and no longer resent the intermittent interference with my plans. The sense of being sanctified/forgiven/saved, while truly indescribable, is the most significant influence on my well-being and sense of self-worth. I wish that I could walk in the power of that Light at all times, but I find I am too often distracted by the day-to-day needs of my worldly life.
I wholeheartly seek to follow Jesus Christ, who is the Way, the Truth and the Life. I have no higher calling than to serve my Lord.

The preceding is the first Query for Individuals from the Faith and Practice of North Carolina Yearly Meeting (Conservative) and my answer. Previous queries and answers can be found in the archives.

Love,
Elizabeth Bathurst

Race + Football

2007-01-22T12:11:00.000-05:00

Last night, I was talking to Ms. Naylor on the phone and asked her if she could look up the final score of the Colts/Pats game for me. I'd watched the first three quarters, but had to head home for bed before it finished. I was quite happy this morning to awake to radio reports and a voicemail with the news that the Colts had rallied for the win in the second half.

Once they get past the whole pacifist female football-fan dissonance, people seem surprised that I regularly root against the Pats given my current geography. But as they defeated both my Panthers and my Eagles in Superbowls the first two years I lived here, I'm a loathe to switch allegiances. Last night I was rooting for the Colts. Not just because I wanted them to end their losing streak against the Pats in playoffs games, or because I thought it would be awesome for Vinetari to help defeat the Pats after they let him go last season. Part of the reason I was rooting for the Colts in this game was that if they won, Coach Dungy would be the second African-American head coach to take a team to the Superbowl. The first was Lovie Smith of the Chicago Bears, who preceded him in that honor by only a few hours.

While professional football has been open to African Americans for many years now, the "intelligent" positions of quarterback and coach have continued to be held mostly by whites. There has been some press about the prejudices that remain about the comparative mental/physical abilities of whites and blacks, in particular the Rush Limbaugh/Donovan McNabb controversy back in 2003. While professional football is simply a frivolous entertainment, arguably neither beautiful nor worthwhile, it is pleasant to celebrate the "firsts" wherever they are happening and dream of a day when we have no more of these "firsts" to celebrate because they are all distant memories of the steps towards a just and equitable society.

Love,
Elizabeth Bathurst

Epiphany

2007-01-06T19:23:00.000-05:00

Sometimes there is nothing as welcoming being home. I just returned from visiting my parents in Minnesota. It was a good visit. I was able to spend time with my parents, grandparents and friends. It was a blessing and a balm for my soul.

My mother loves Christmas music. She loves being able to listen to it. Shortly after I arrived home she and I were cooking and listening to carols-- Silent Night came on. I started reflecting on that song and many of the carols. Many carols that are traditional at Christmas rejoice and detail the birth of Jesus. But to think about Bethlehem and Jerusalem, to think of the part of the world where Jesus lived and the physical location of the stories of the Bible, we see only conflict now. Daily there is religious strife, wars, death, and exploitation. It’s true that miracles are present even in the middle of war, but they are surrounded by the brutality of humanity. There is no silent night now.

Peace on Earth and Good Will to Men.

My home meeting has a lovely Christmas Eve tradition of potluck, singing, and worship. In the last few years we have even gotten my father a lapsed non-practicing Catholic to attend with the rest of the family. I get sent ahead to pick up my grandparents who no longer drive and who make a fine art of slowness. My grandfather is particularly a master in the craft of slowness.

This year’s celebration was lovely. I got to see many people I had not seen since last year’s Christmas. I was also able to reunite with old friends and start our friendships anew. The potluck was wonderful, complete with the traditional rum optional homemade Egg Nog.

After the potluck we all gather in the meeting room for caroling followed by silent worship. As we selected songs, I kept reflecting on the lyrics with their talk of peace and salvation that was forth-coming now that our savior has been born in Bethlehem. I started thinking back to my ruminations on Silent Night. Before I knew it I was speaking out of the silence between songs. Reflecting on war, conflict, religion, and humanity.

We have made Jesus’ life petty. We have made it a celebration of consumer goods prostrated before the alter of material greed. We create conflict and war in the name of the Prince of Peace. We Christians, are the new money-changers in the temple.

What was truly a blessing in this was the response after meeting had risen. Several people came to speak with my about the points I had raised and thanked me for my ministry. I am very grateful to have my home meeting.

It is good to be home.

What child is this...

2006-12-23T11:56:00.000-05:00

I recently came across this article about prenatal genetic testing. It talks about how some people who are deaf or have dwarfism are interested in IVF of embryos that will grow into children with their same genetic difference. I am opposed to IVF and other fertility treatments, not because I think the procedures are "playing god" as some say, but because I consider it fairly selfish to go through extraordinary means to obtain a child with shared genes when there are so many children at home and abroad who need homes.

When I was in college I attended a screening of videos other students had made for a class. As a part of one video, there was an interview with a middle-aged lesbian couple. When they were asked the question "if you had a child would you prefer them to be gay or straight?" one woman replied that she hoped her hypothetical child would be gay. Her partner answered that she would prefer her child to be straight, because she wouldn't want her own child to face the same kind of discrimination she had faced.

When someone decides to have a child, they usually want what is best for the child. They want their child to have all of the good things in their life and none of the bad. Nurture doesn't always work. You can raise up a child in the way you think he should go but in the end, he may well depart from it. Folks are thinking about manipulating nature in order to help influence the kind of person they get to raise. That makes a lot of sense. The only problem (other than the slippery slope towards eugenics) is that the foolishness of God is wiser than men.

I believe that we are all children of God, in possession of a great potential only known by God. My professional/academic accomplishments, financial status, medical history, race, gender, orientation, abilities/disabilities do not have any relationship with my worth as a human being. We are all one in Christ.

The human race seems to have the "go forth and multiply" thing down. We seem to be struggling more with the keeping "orphans and widows out of distress" part.

Love,
Elizabeth Bathurst

A story about prayer

2006-12-05T23:53:00.000-05:00

I would really like to go to bed right now, but I don't think I can without sharing this story here. I'm in such a good mood that I don't seem to mind this prompting in the slightest.
This morning, I was lying in bed with a terrible migraine. I was feeling worthless for missing work and being weak. I was in a very bleak place, perhaps the worst I've been since I was in the hospital earlier this fall. Lying in the dark, waiting for the migraine drugs to kick in, I was being mindful of how being in physical pain affects my mental health and trying not to take my dark thoughts too seriously.
I tried to think of things that I could do once my headache cleared that would help improve my mood and had the snotty thought that if so-and-so would just call, things would be a lot easier to handle because I've have something tangible to look forward to. I heard the tone of my internal voice and decided to ask for help. I didn't call my therapist, since I was still too sensitive to sound to talk on the phone. I decided to pray.
When I pray, I don't pray for the pain to go away, or for a boy to like me, or for the job I want or to win the lottery or for a specific outcome in an election. I feel that there is too much presumption and pride in asking for these things, as if to ask for my aunt to be healed of breast cancer were questioning God's Plan for her life.
What I do pray for are comfort, strength and/or direction. This morning, I prayed for the strength to get through those dark moments. I prayed for a while and I may have dozed off a little while praying. The next thing I knew, my phone was ringing and the pain in my head was gone. It was that phone call that would supposedly make everything better. The one that might make it easier to be hopeful even when things get really ugly.
It feels good to have gotten what I wanted, but it feels better to know that I did the right thing. I feel centered and holy, even, knowing that in the heat of the moment, in the darkness where I needed Him the most I was able to cast aside the petulant child and be the faithful servant He so desires me to be. It sounds a little like pride, but it is something entirely different. It's the precious feeling that only comes from believing that everything is right between me and God. There is nothing better in the world and I have only found it in perfect obedience.
This evening, I am going to bed with words of praise on my lips. I hope that each of you, dear Friends, can do the same.

With Love,
Elizabeth Bathurst

In This Spirit

2006-11-13T22:35:00.000-05:00

Unfortunately, Friends, I will be unable to write with any frequency till late in December. I have several commitments that need my full attention. And I must say there has been a tone of late that I am not sure I want to feed anymore. I wish I were godlier or more humble and did not fall so hard and so fast to the bait, alas, hypocrisy mine, yours, or ours is a hard thing to ignore. So Friends, I am leaving you with a few items to reflect on--happy trails, till we meet again.

Advices and queries are not a call to increased activity by each individual Friend but a reminder of the insights of the Society. Within the community there is a diversity of gifts. We are all therefore asked to consider how far the advices and queries affect us personally and where our own service lies. There will also be diversity of experience, of belief and of language. Friends maintain that expressions of faith must be related to personal experience. --Quaker Faith and Practice, The Yearly Meeting of the Religious Society of Friends in Britain, 1995

Here are the following Queries from the British Faith and Practice:

Do you respect that of God in everyone though it may be expressed in unfamiliar ways or be difficult to discern? Each of us has a particular experience of God and each much find the way to be true to it. When words are strange or disturbing to you, try to sense where they come from and what has nourished the lives of others. Listen patiently and seek the truth which other people's opinions may contain for you. Avoid hurtful criticism and provocative language. Do not allow the strength of your convictions to betray you into making statements or allegations that are unfair or untrue. Think it possible that you may be mistaken.

___________________________________________________

Every stage of our lives offers fresh opportunities. Responding to divine guidance, try to discern the right time to undertake or relinquish responsibilities without undue pride or guilt. Attend to what love requires of you, which may not be great busyness.

It is the little things; let your life speak

2006-10-29T14:01:00.000-05:00

When I was in high school I had to read a autobiography or biography for a class assignment. I talked with my grandmother a former librarian and general fount of wisdom. I wanted a woman with some spark and fire. She recommended that I read "The Long Loneliness" by Dorothy Day.

Dorothy Day has been one of my personal heroe's ever since. I am not big on idolizing people who are not real people in my life, but Dorothy is one of the few. Something about her search for community and a life which lived out one's convictions spoke to me. I was also taken up with her struggle to be a person of faith while surrounded by many who were doubters.

In college my spirituality was deepening and maturing. At one point I felt that the only way to live my convictions was to live in an intentional community. I lived in a Catholic Worker for awhile. It was a wonderful time filled with service and spirit. I was very close to dropping out of school and giving my life over to the work of the Catholic Worker communities. Something changed though and I have felt that my vioce is needed to change and persuade those with means and priviledge that we must change the social structures that oppress our humanity. For as we keep economic opportunity, health, education, and oppurtunity from any of our brothers and sisters we in turn our keeping our own humanity disadvantaged.

One of the most important things I have taken from Dorothy is that we don't know the effect our actions will have on another. Even the smallest action has the potential to dramatically affect another person. The true miracle of this is that we will never know how our interactions can alter another person. Few of us will ever know that 10 years down the road someone will be reminded of some small kindness and it will have made a positive impact somewhere. Conversely, negative behaviors carry at least as much impact--sometimes more. This idea is much like that of "letting your life speak." While letting your personal decisions reflect your moral character, at the heart of this Quakerly sentiment is that we are all children of god and deserve to be treated as such. It means let your words ring with kindness and truth. Let your life be a mindful and intentional one, but not at the expense of another. And do not judge those who do not live like you.

After college I spent some time in the same Catholic Worker community that I had lived previously. I remember being in the kitchen one day and reading the notes on the canisters of sugar. I was rather shocked that one note said something about the sugar being unbleached, raw, etc. The wording of the note was such that I was shocked because of the expression of middle class values. That everyone should eat certain foods and buy organic...but this was in a home of hospitality for the homeless. If a person cannot afford housing then they are just happy to eat. And organic foods and foods with a conscience are expensive. Until they are affordable one should not expect the poor to eat them. Nor should we assume that people want to eat crap, but if a pound of sugar costs less than two dollars and unbleached organic raw sugar costs 6 dollars...what do expect most of us to do? Just as my parents would go back off the grid in a heartbeat, if it wasn't so expensive to rewire the house and buy solar panels.

Now the difficulty with being faithful to making the most of all interactions and letting your life speak in big and small ways, is that it is easier said than done. I sometimes forget to let my words ring with kindness...truth is easier (but I tend to channel an angrier god than a god of love). Sometimes I take the elavator instead of the stairs. And I often judge others quickly and rarely change my mind...but again I point to Thomas Kelley, "begin where you are. We all stumble, but begin again."

Query #10

2006-10-21T10:22:00.000-05:00

Are we concerned that man's increasing power over nature should not be used irresponsible but with reverence for life and with a sense of the splendor of God's continuing creation?

I'm concerned with the way that modern agriculture affects the earth and I don't feel I'm doing enough to counteract it, either with my power as a consumer or in any other way. I do feel the need to discuss environmentally sound agriculture with people when it comes up, hopefully in a way that allows for further though on all ends.

I feel pretty good about the transportational choices I make. Between car-sharing, public transportation and a whole lot of walking, I feel as though my regular transportation choices are very good for minimizing pollution.

I'm concerned about how to be more expressive of my support for green political causes. I do pay close attention to the issues and vote accordingly, but I'm not sure that I'm making any sort of an impact. But the query isn't asking what I'm doing or what kind of an impact I'm making on our collective human stewardship of the planet. It's just asking if I'm concerned about it. So the simple answer is yes.

Love,
Elizabeth Bathurst

P.S. You might want to check out this previous post about the queries.

My Glass Menagerie

2006-10-02T22:54:00.000-05:00

I have come to realize that I collect people. Not in some freaky way, by putting them in a display case for my own amusement. Rather, this collection finds their way into my life: The friendless, misunderstood, lonely, drunk, up-standing, freaks, social outcasts, sinners, and saints. I have always had an odd asortment of friends.

This was most recently illustrated during the beginning of a new semester. In one particular class, there was one individual who seemed to be generally disliked by the majority of the class. I tried talking with my classmates one day explaining that this is my third class with the individual in question. I tried to explain that while most of what comes out of his mouth is phrased in such a way as to make the hairs on the back of your next stand on end, when you really listen to the essence of his statements--underneath the word choice, he isn't so far off. The looks I recieved told me they were not convinced.

The next class was worse. People seemingly ganged up on the poor guy. As I said he and I have had two prior classes together and have reached an understanding. So while I may challenge what he is saying, he knows it is not personal but more philosophical in nature. The third class rolled around, again having attempted to have my classmates look more at the content rather than the vocabulary...however, this class the individual moved to sit closer to me. I have found the more I talk to him one on one outside of class the better he is able to clearly direct his discussion points in class. While this has not eased tensions, it has made a difference in the class dynamics.

I was explaining this situation to a friend who is also in the course and is familiar with my struggles with this individual. I admitted that this is not the first person I have taken "under my wing" unethusiastically, but have made a lasting friendship with. She said, "Its because you are always looking for the light in a person. You always find their good qualities and bring them out."

I was a bit taken aback. She isn't a quaker, yet her observation was put in quaker terms. It made me think...that perhaps this is part of me. The caretaker, I see the darkened soul and want to make it shine again. And I guess its true because some of my "menagerie" is broken and that takes its toll on me. It is not that I have any illusions about this making me some kind of saint...I have no illusions of grandeaur when it come to myself.

Don't play with dead birds; they leave scars

2006-09-27T12:49:00.000-05:00

I recently came across some free writing I had done in preparation for a poem I have yet to finish. It was about a dead bird I had seen, laying on a busy sidewalk. Some of the phrases and images are good, but there isn't a cohesive thought behind the poem yet. Mostly because I'm not clear how I feel about the idea of God and the sparrow. You know the sparrow I'm talking about:

Why should I feel discouraged, why should the shadows come,
Why should my heart be lonely, and long for heaven and home,
When Jesus is my portion? My constant friend is He:
His eye is on the sparrow, and I know He watches me;
His eye is on the sparrow, and I know He watches me.

I've always had trouble with the idea that God is taking care of all of us, down to the smallest of us. Sparrows freeze to death, get hunted for sport by well-fed housecats, get hit by cars. Surely if each individual sparrow mattered, they wouldn't be prone to senseless deaths. Never mind the meaningless suffering of people around the world from poverty, hunger, war, etc. Why doesn't God care enough to stop suffering?

But the verses that it is based on, Matthew 10:29-31, don't say that the sparrow will come to no harm. It says that if the sparrow comes to harm, it is through the Father. Not only did God know about that dead bird on the sidewalk in front of Moody's Falafel Palace, he let it die. That seems even more callus than not knowing/caring about the fate of the sparrow.

The important lesson for me isn't around the symbolism of the dead bird. It's all about I value judgment I made a couple paragraphs back. I decided that the sparrow's death was senseless or meaningless. And I don't get to decide things like that. Just a few verses earlier in Matthew 10 we are told that "there is nothing covered that shall not be revealed" or "hid that shall not be known". We are reminded not to fear anyone other than the Lord. If something bad happens, God knows why.

If we are suffering and we can find no reason why He should let us suffer, we should not curse Him, nor doubt Him. He's got a plan. He's keeping an eye on us and it'll all make sense later. I can get so caught up in myself and my sense of what is fair that I forget that "the foolishness of God is wiser than men and the weakness of God is stronger than men." (1 Corinthians 1:25).

I'm feeling pretty weak and foolish right now, so it's comforting to know that He's got His eye on me and that I don't need to understand anything else right now.

Love,
Elizabeth Bathurst

An update from Crazy Camp.

2006-09-24T08:32:00.000-05:00

I wanted to drop a quick note to let folks know that I am doing a lot better. I had said this before, but my doctor, upon seeing me in the middle of a bad day, disagreed. Together we decided that spending a few days in the hospital would be a good idea. I ended up spending two weeks in the hospital, five days or so in a locked ward, and then a little over a week in a partial program.

I've started a new medication that is working wonders. I've learned how to make some of my coping skills more effective and I've gained some valuable insights into my illness. My improvement has been so incredible and life-changing that I still need some time to adjust.

I intend to be back to blogging soon, if only to keep Friend James properly supervised at first. Your continued prayers are appreciated as I readjust to life on the outside.

Love,
Elizabeth Bathurst

May thy heart sing

2006-09-12T19:41:00.000-05:00

My favorite season is Autumn. There is something about a day when the air is clean and crisp with the bluest of skys that makes my heart sing.

Ironically, fall is the time of year that things are the hardest for my mental health. Its been about a year since I got the courage to begin treating my depression. I had always had a fear of going into public...but when I began crying and hyperventilating at a bank, I decided I coundn't continue like this anymore. What I found the hardest was learning that being happy is ok. That I really do deserve to go through life with all the negetivity in my head muted to a dull roar...I actually have the ability now to see that all that noise is just noise. I don't come from a background where therapy is an option...just pull yourself together and get through it, no one has it easy, quit your whining. Or better yet, never under any circumstances admit that your bad moods, which include sitting in a dark room drinking after work are a problem, much less depression--aren't midwesterners great!

My best friend from college has a history of clinical depression. Its been a really hard year for her. Things have gotten worse of late. I asked her if she wanted me there, she said no. I had urged her a few months ago to talk with her social support network in the city she lives in. I have met them, they are good people. It took time but she has let them in and they are standing with her in her time of need. I have been talking to her two or three times a day for the last week, but its not the same as being physically with her. I am so grateful that she is surrounded in a loving community. Really that is all a person can hope for in a lot of ways.

I know she hears the strain in my voice when she talks to me. Its one part worry and one part trying to decern what is appropriate to say. She has always been the one I go to when I am unwell...but I can't burden her right now. It is important that she get to a good place and learn ways to maintain it. She has just discovered the fact (that through proper medications) life can be wonderful, that it is possible for people like us to live in ways other people do. It is a joyful revelation and one of the most terrifying I have ever experienced. And everyday is not perfect, but the weight of it all is so much lighter. I can now navigate through life easier. I pray that what she is experiencing right now will continue, that finally she can actualize her potential without being weighted down with depression.

Social reject and general pariah

2006-09-10T10:23:00.000-05:00

I have recently gotten lured into the weird "quaker cyber-culture" of blogging...what I mean is I have been spending more time looking at the cyber community Quakers are creating. I like some of what is out there like A Place to Stand (granted he's family with Ms. Bathurst, who is like a sister to me). Some make me think, some remind me why I have a hard time with corprate worship these days, and some speak to my condition...but really I would prefer to be under the radar. I know that my ramblings are reaching someone if they so choose and perhaps it provides entertainment or ministers to their condition...but really it is a way of keeping connected to my own spiritual needs in my time in the desert.

Really why did I decide to start this blog with "Ms. Bathurst." Well...for reasons stated in some of the earliest entries. I really feel that many young adult friends are wandering and not connecting back to Quakers. I am one of those. I want to be apart of meeting and the spiritual community offered, but I never feel like I am what meetings want in a young friend. They want someone to be the poster child for the next generation of Quakers, someone who will join committees and have lengthy discussions about their spiritual resume and who will make a meeting proud to send to events like the World Gathering of Young Friends that took place not to long ago; young adult friends whose enthusiasm, piousness, devotion, and blandness (I am sorry simplicity is what I meant) will make our fraidy-cat brand of contemporary Quakerism proud...keep up the status-quo, don't rock the boat.

Ooops, I am slipping into anger. I have been struggling with the idea that this blog is a form of ministry since we began. I like the idea of getting my ideas out, instead of rolling around in my head. But I can't promise to always be speaking in the proper Quaker manner, something like being PC only its more like QC. Its why I liked the article that was picked up nationally from the Philadelphia Inquirer...those Friends speak my mind. I have a lot of respect for the AFSC and Philadelphia Yearly meeting has its place, but that is not the center of the Quaker world.

I don't want anyone telling me how to blog. Or have a Quaker Blogging Faith and Practice. The more we create a "quaker cyber-culture" the more it will resemble the current status-quo of Quakerism and the less visionary it will be. I don't want to express myself differently. I have been thinking on and off for months on the fact that this is a form of ministry. I am better at writing with the spirit than speaking from it in meeting. But I won't necessarily express my understanding of the spirit the way others see as appropriate for a quaker. In fact I like functioning in ignorance from the other quaker blogs. Mostly because I don't have time to find them and then read them. I am actually trying to conduct translational research that will aid people rather than resting on my laurels, which happened at least 30 years ago or more. And if anyone thinks I am being too acidy for a young upstart...I have the Quaker pedigree to back myself and the knowledge of OUR history to keep saying these things though you won't see me attending every committee known to quaker and functioning soley in the insular world of quaker-dom.

The reality of race part II (miscegation is awesome!)

2006-09-09T23:14:00.000-05:00

I have recently encountered several people with the mind-set that you shouldn't date people from other cultures (too many cultural differences). It's odd how anthropology has become pop-cultured and now people talk using its terminology...but its used to hide behind things instead of for seeking a greater understanding of the world...though considering that it came out of a white-colonialist-academic setting I guess that isn't surprising. However, through my interaction with people in the fields of Anthropology and Sociology the vast majority tend to view dating someone from a different culture with more openness ie that while there may be cultural differences it is not all that different from all the other more "typical issues" involved in dating anyone (even those with a background similar to your own). My only concern with dating someone from another culture is when there is a language difference. Communication or lack of it is a bigger issue than culture or race. I mean I often can't communicate effectively with my own family.

This is not to downplay the role nationality or race will impact a relationship, I have recently started dating someone from another country. We are having some issues in the early stages of our dating. Rather than bore you with those details, I will say that the funny thing is that despite people saying its cultural differences...his behavior is pretty much like any other guy I ever thought I could end up in a relationship with. Which in fact may say more about me...back to the point. I have grown up in an untraditional household, granted from the outside it would seem typical: white middle class, two parents and whatever else is supposed to indicate "normal american." However, I grew up in the rural mid-west, part of my life was spent without indoor plumbing and living "off the grid" ie solar power (though there was a brief time with kerosene lamps), we had the use of a wood stove for our primary heat source for a number of years, and I even lived in a cabin with only a loft, no bedrooms. This list is an incomplete g;impse of why I am not really "typical" especially by american standards.

I don't really get men (or boys cause there is a lot of grey area about when a boy becomes a man, he may be 30 and still a child of sorts) and I am definately not an east coaster by nature. I embody too many of the deeply instilled mid-western qualities to really ever become fully adjusted to the east coast whether I am living in the south or the north. By this logic I have been dealing with "cultural differences" for 9 years. So taking the step and dating an African isn't so far-fetched. I mean New Yorkers, New Englanders, and North Carolinans are all pretty foriegn to me. The issues in my new relationship aren't so much "cultural differences" unless the cultural differences we are talking about are men vs women.

I guess what bothers me so much is that the people who have told me not date someone from another culture are hiding behind cultural differeces, when it is racism. Cultural differences was not mentioned when I was briefly infatuated with a European last year. It's attitudes like this that really pisses me off. I guess what is interesting about this situation is that it is a dear F/friend I like a lot and care about saying what is essentially racist BS. But she has no idea that its racist or that it is a good example of Northern racism having never been challenged to think about race before. I have been spoiled with all of my friends being pretty much aligned with my personal views on such topics.

Of course what we are talking about here is also addressed in "Jungle Fever" and I think that the movie tells us that it can never work (inter-racial dating) not because of so-called "cultural differences" but society's prejudices and the history of racial tensions especially in America. I watched it again recently and was a little pissy with Spike Lee for making it seem like we need to not date across racial lines...whatever those are. I think more people need to date interracially. The more it happens the less people freak out about it. Miscegenation is awesome! That is why the movie made me so sad. I felt like it made things seem hopeless.

And if things are hopeless what does that say about America? Where does that put those who are bi-racial or multi-racial? Are we always going to be afraid of the "other?" Once in this country we labeled the Irish as black on the census...there is a tale in my family that when my grandparents got married the Irish sat on one side of the church and the Germans sat on the other. There are no photos from the wedding. Of course in contemporary America no one thinks twice about Irish heritage or finds it shameful. Thus, the sociologist in me says, "See race is just a social construct!" So first a generation marries different ethinic groups, but within the same religion. Then their kids marry folks from different religions and the next generation is even more likely to marry (I am using that term to illustrate the historical precendent and evolution of social mores--so substitute partnership or whatever if you prefer) who they choose for love whether that is someone of the same sex or of a different race.

So here is to the cultural differences of men and women. And I understand that this is not going to be the first instance of racist attitudes that will try to influnce my current relationship but if we avoid examining such things we can never get to the root cause and work to change things. Whether such negative attitudes are being expressed by whites, African-Americans, Africans, Latinos, or Koreans they are still at their foundation prejudicial and ultimately racist. We all carry the means for racism within us, what matters is if we take time to examine and deconstruct it for positive change or if we let it continue to inform our thoughts and actions no matter how subtley.

Query #9

2006-09-08T11:42:00.000-05:00

The Faith and Practice of NCYM-C (which is available online here) includes lists of queries for monthly meetings, ministry and oversight, and individuals. The reading of the monthly meetings' query answers is a very important part of our sessions and so too is the answering of individual queries a significant gauge of my own spiritual life. The queries allow for regular introspection into every facet of our spiritual lives as individuals and as groups. The formality of the monthly structure does not allow allow me to disregard the questions that are uncomfortable.

The following is the 9th Query for Individuals and my answer:

#9 How have I contributed to the spiritual growth of the Society of Friends? What have I done as a member of my meeting for worship and meeting for business to carry out my responsibilities as a member of the Society of Friends?

I have to admit, I haven't been to a business meeting in ages. I keep in contact with my home meeting, something that would be far more difficult if the clerk of my meeting wasn't also one of my parents. I'm able to give input into meeting decisions via long-distance calls and feel that my involvement in the meeting is appropriate for the distance involved.
I do feel that I use my NCYM-C membership as an excuse to be under-involved with the giant liberal meeting that I attend. When the spirit moves me I attend worship and give ministry, but I have avoided getting involved in the life of the meeting I attend. I tried attending the biweekly Bible study, but found that my more traditional interpretations of Scripture weren't always welcome. It is a major flaw of mine to back down from conflict. I feel so uncomfortable in the big NEYM meeting I attend that I didn't turn in the letter of sojourn that was written for me. In order to remedy my lack of contribution to the big yucky meeting, I am seriously considering teaching first day school at the meeting this trimester. The set curriculum for this trimester is Quaker History, an area which ought to be relatively similar throughout the branches of Quakerism and not cause me any conflicts. I'm not committing to teaching the class until I've seen the curriculum and I'm certain that I am clear to teach it.
I do feel that I am contributing to the spiritual health of the Society of Friends by blogging here. It has given me a new medium to discuss spirituality and faith with people that I might never have spoken with in person about such issues.

While I have been using the personal queries as part of my own spiritual practice for some time now, I'm going to try to publish my answers here on occasion. I imagine that I will occasionally feel the need to keep my answers private. I may, for those months, post the query without an answer.

Love,
Elizabeth Bathurst

An explanation of sorts

2006-08-29T11:28:00.000-05:00

As my father (who has started blogging recently over at A Place to Stand) pointed out to me recently, I haven't posted anything since the end of July. The reason for this is simple. My mental health has declined and blogging isn't as high a priority as feeding myself, changing the litterbox or getting to my doctor's appointments. Blogging requires thought and thinking too much can be dangerous for me when I'm in this dark a place.

I will share this story with you all, however. This past weekend, I found myself crouched over the hospital bed of a dear friend while we waited for the psych consult to arrive. At one point, she was frantic and deeply concerned that God didn't love her because she had done bad things. In order to comfort her, I told her that I also often feel that I am a horrible person who has done unforgivable things. But I also know that God has forgiven me and that God loves me, because He has told me so. I believe that if He can forgive and love me, then that love and forgiveness must be accessible to everyone, because I am so not special.

I don't know how much she retained of that conversation, as her memories of our night in the ER are incomplete and scattered. I do know that in the moment, I was able to comfort her because she physically relaxed a little. It's moments like that, when I can draw on my long and ugly history of living with mental illness, that I can make some sense of why He would let me suffer the way that I do.

I ask for your prayers for myself and for my friend, but especially for all of the people who are helping to care for us.

Love,
Elizabeth Bathurst

P.S. I am starting to feel better and hope to be back to blogging soon.

Ubi caritas et amor, Deus ibi est.

2006-07-31T10:40:00.000-05:00

I attended Rob's experiment in semi-programmed worship yesterday evening. As we waited for everyone to gather, some of us discussed how we had spent our morning. Few of us had attended meeting for worship. When I mentioned I had gone to brunch with my heathen friends, everyone laughed.

During the service, Rob read the 4th query from Britain Yearly Meeting:

The Religious Society of Friends is rooted in Christianity and has always found inspiration in the life and teachings of Jesus. How do you interpret your faith in the light of this heritage? How does Jesus speak to you today? Are you following Jesus' example of love in action? Are you learning from his life the reality and cost of obedience to God? How does this relationship with God challenge and inspire you?

I cannot calculate the cost of my obedience to God. I cannot fathom what I might have gained or lost by following my own desires above His. I know that the greatest treasure I possess is the intimate knowledge of His Redemptive Grace, which I discovered through utter submission to His will.

One of the ways in which He guides me occasionally is through the selection of my friends. Amongst my dearest friends are the prostitutes and the tax-collectors (Matthew 21:32). Those of us who live in the dirt are most in need of Love. When I console and council my dearest and their friends as one who has struggled and does struggle with the depravity of the human spirit, I am doing His work.

While I value the friendships I have with Quakers and relative ease with which I can discuss spirituality, the majority of my friends and acquaintances are religious and many appear on the surface to have very minimal spiritual lives. It's not my intention to bring anyone to Christ. It is my intention to be obedient to Christ and to feed His lambs and care for His sheep (John 21:15-16), for we are all children of God, whether we are aware of it or not. If we insulate ourselves with like-minded folks who look like we do, we are not living in the world. There is much work to be done inside the Society of Friends, but far more to be done outside of it. We are called to be a part of the Kingdom of Heaven and all are welcome.

I will continue to minister from the ugliness of my own life to the sick, the troubled and the weary regardless of their genetic make-up, belief structure, and station in life because despair is a universal condition. Knowing that one is not alone in the dark can be more comforting than being told of a light.

This is how I am called to express Love in action. This is the cross Christ has asked me to bear.

Love,
Elizabeth Bathurst

Give and take

2006-07-26T08:33:00.000-05:00

Giving ministry is hard work. Sometimes as I center into worship, I hear that still small voice I know so well. I tend to get anywhere from a word to a couple of sentences that repeat over and over. Sometimes it starts well before meeting as I prepare for worship. When I get the rumblings of ministry, I contemplate what the phrase means. I explore it in as many directions as I have time before something happens.

If I'm meant to share my message, I feel a quiver of fear and the power of the Lord. If the message is for me, I never get that quivering certainty that I have to stand. I'm often overly grateful for the handshake that means I don't have to speak. I hate giving ministry.

When I speak the Holy Spirit moves through me. I retreat to a quieter, smaller space and give my body over to the Lord. I'm only aware of speaking the phrase I was given, and anything I say to preface it. I rarely remember much what I say after the fact.

I hate speaking in front of people in general, but speaking deep spiritual and emotional truths is far worse. I don't want these strangers to have access to the deepest parts of me. I'd rather keep it secret, keep it safe. It is a distinctly dissociative event, which can be traumatic.

If I stand up and give the message the moment I feel shaky, the experience is just draining. If I postpone it until He lifts me off the bench, it's awful. It can take me several hours to fully reinhabit my body. When I resist giving a message, I get physically ill.

Several times over the past few weeks, I've had people bring up the idea that being a part of a meeting of any size is a give-and-take relationship. You can't just go to meeting to get what you need, you have to give back. Even when the meeting isn't meeting your needs and it feels like you have nothing left to give.

Love,

Elizabeth Bathurst

The reality of race

2006-07-21T23:31:00.000-05:00

I read in the paper this morning that crime is rising in DC with the heat-wave with 14 homicides in 2 weeks. I wondered how Baltimore's crime wave was doing, as 8 homicides in a week is not too unusual. Things have seemed quiet despite the heat.

I was coming back from working on a report at an all-night dinner. Sometimes I just need a new venue to get work done. I was sober, but tired. I always worry about hitting someone. Despite being one of those annoying pedestrians myself, who always walks out into streets with oncoming traffic, I still as a motorist get nervous. I was driving along a road that is a major thorough-fare in town and there were several groups of young men along the road. I was more worried that I might hit them...untill I saw one making to through something at my car. I though maybe it will be an egg, I can wash that off. But it was a rock or a brick. It hit my car. Thankfully, it didn't hit the window. But there is a nice dent and some serious scratches...I thought do I call the cops? Well, I don't think little punk-asses should be doing shit like that, though its better than other deviant activities...so I called the cops. Its only the second time I have had to do that (for a non-work related incidence). I guess I should feel good that I have had so little crime in my life...but you call, you give the location, the cop automatically thinks it s a place about five blocks from where it was cause that would be normal. Then he asks me to describe the persons..."where they black or white kids" Part of me hates to contribute to the amount of black men getting harrassed by the law, but damn it don't be throwing shit. But my white guilt rears up and says what might happen now? What if the cops do go and harrass them and they stop for tonight and eventually move on to more dangerous things. But the rest of me says, "Well, if that had gone through one of my windows, it could have caused an accident or injured a passenger if I had had one."

I am not the typical white mid-west kid. I have seen rascism from all sides. In college I sat with my "other minority" friends while African-American kids said we don't want them piggy-backing on us, there needs to be special attention given to the African-American students on this racist campus. I was deemed a "good enough" white person to get the blessing of my friends to educate others on race. A blessing I don't take lightly. My cousin has spent six years in jail, there are conflicting family stories about whether he was really involved in drugs or whether it was planted on him, because it isn't easy to be a young black man in our society. Either way he is another young black man who now has to go through society with a felony, which is always concentrated on more than how hard he is working to support his children and enrich all of their lives.

Or there are the forms of racism I have seen from the "white guilt liberals" to the "righteiously bigotted." My first year in college I was finally able to put my finger on what distinguises Northern racism from Southern rascism. In the north we hid behind smiles and fake nicetities and in the south they are real proud of it and don't hide it. So you know where you stand in the south, not in the north.

I wrote this to a friend several months ago, but somehow it seems important to include tonight:

What is funny though, is I was able to come home early today and take a walk. It is beautiful and spring flowers are everywhere. I was listening to an italian tape...and there was this group of middle school boys walking home from school, they assumed I couldn' hear them, so they were saying things like (and they were all black) "hey whitey" "whitey" "hey, white girl you ain't got no ass" I thought for a second about flipping them off, or asking them if their mama's would approve or that it didn't matter that I have no ass cause there is a beautiful Kenyan man who has the hots for me. But I just kept walking with my head held high. Now some white people would have been scared of a group of black boys, I wasn't. I was just sad. That they felt the need to see if they could get away with saying things like that to me. That they had to uphold racism...that they have internalized because of white people like me (college educated, middle class whites).

The same racism, the more insidious forms that are so lodged in our collective memories and deepest self-concious are the worst. The young men tonight were acting out for the same reasons. It may have just been fun and to see if they could get away with it. Or it could be like the kids I used to work with, what else did they have to do. The are smart and ignored and kids like that should not be left at loose ends, because they get themselves into trouble.

Psalm 34

2006-07-06T11:30:00.000-05:00

I carry a handwritten copy of the 34th psalm in my purse. It is so comforting to me.

The Lord is close to the broken-hearted
and saves those who are crushed in spirit.
A righteous man may have many troubles,
but the Lord delivers him from them all;
He protects all his bones,
not one of them will be broken.
-Psalm 34:18-20

I have spent much of my life battling clinical depression. I am often broken-hearted and crushed in spirit. I have wondered why He gave me this cross to bear. It is so lonely. It is so devastating to know that even if I get to the top of the mountain, the stone will just roll down again. I'm borrowing too many metaphors, but bear with me. I'm not especially sane at the moment.

I preparing to write this entry, I was looking at different translations of the Psalm, and I finally read the little snippet at the beginning that I often skip over. You know, the part where it tells you what that David wrote this one to the tune of Gilligan's Island? Anyway, the litte snippet for this Psalm is:

"A Psalm of David when he pretended madness before Abimelech, who drove him away, and he departed."

No wonder I like it so much. It's supposed to sound like a crazy person is speaking.

It's also an acrostic poem of the Hebrew alphabet. This amuses me in and of itself, but especially so since I found this psalm through a poem by Denise Levertov. "O Taste and See" is perhaps the only "carpe diem" poem I've ever liked. The poem is her response to the Wordsworth line "the world is too much with us," a sentiment I often agree with. If only the world would retreat a little, give me a little room to breathe, I could spend more time on God. I could spend more time creating peace and perhaps even figure out how to indulge in joy. Levertov's "O Taste and See" makes the point that when we engage with the world we are engaging with God. He's in the food that sustains us, in ads on the subway and everywhere in between. Every day we are

"living in the orchard and being

hungry, and plucking
the fruit."
-Levertov

Right now, I am struggling to remember that I am living in the orchard, that He will keep my bones unbroken, and that so long as I look to Him, my face will never be covered with shame. It helps to carry these words with me on a tattered sheet of notebook paper, especially when I can't seem to carry them in my heart.

Love,
ELizabeth Bathurst

Longing

2006-07-05T23:09:00.000-05:00

Tonight the heat has subsided. The humidity has given way to cool air and rain. Soothing rain. On hot nights I leave the door to my balcony open. Tonight lying in bed with the soothing sounds of the rain, I look up from my bed to see the rain falling in such a way as to create a curtain between me and the tree outside. It is lovely, I think about my bed, large and so lonely. This is one of those nights I wish I was lying in it with someone to share the excitement a night like this holds for me. Or how the book I am currently reading broke my heart by page 13. I was surrounded by soccer fans in Heathrow airport and they were all excited from the match and I was crying. And the peace of canoeing at where the water gives way to the heavens. There are so many things I want to share with another. My joy, that can light up a room, and the heart-wrentching agony of life that I hide with my uncouth sense of humor. But tonight I have the rain, to lull me to sleep instead of a lovers arms.

At that hour, the boy happened to be lying on his backin the woods thinking about the girl. You could say it was his love for her that saved him. In the years that followed, the boy became invisible. In this way, he escaped death. Nicole Krauss, The History of Love, p. 12

And if the man who once upon a time had been a boy who promised he'd never fall in love with another girl as long as he lived kept his promise, it wasn't because he was stubborn or even loyal. He couldn't help it. And having hidden for three years and a half years, hiding his love for a son who didn't know he existed didn't seem unthinkable. Not if it was what the only woman he would ever love needed him to do. After all, what does it mean for a man to hide one more thing when he has vanished completely? Nicole Krauss, The History of Love, p. 13

Zoar Revisited;Salt of the Earth

2006-07-04T18:06:00.000-05:00

I have always wondered about Lot's wife. Being a woman, we don't know her name or why she looked back. Was it fear? Was it curiousity?

I think that we are all broken people. Sometimes I think that the relationships in our lives are only there to create a vicious circle of hurt. We are hurt and broken and find it hard to love, so we injure those around us to make them more like us. It takes time and strength to heal from life's wounds. There is a balacing act of learning from the experience, agknowledging it for what it was and working your way forward to embrace a whole, loving life. At a certain point these things need to be allowed to rest, to no longer be burdens we carry. They must be firmly in the past to allow for us to move to the present and walk with love in our hearts towards the future. It doesn't mean that the wounds have healed or that they are any less raw, but you must let them go to a certain degree or they will fester and spread to every part of your life and soul. You will become toxic.

Like everyone I have my share of burdens and wounds. I have spent six years wrestling with some of them. It was a hard struggle to find my life again, to find my joy, and to open myself to love. However, it is a tight-rope walk. I am not strong enough to stop from talking or reflecting on the past when it is brought up. Recently, the rawness of these experiences flooded back into my life--most unexpectedly. I had no idea I would crack so easily. I think I am beginning to understand the lesson in the story of Lot's wife:

When they [the angels] had brought them outside, they said, "Flee for your life; do not look back or stop anywhere in the Plain; flee to the hills, or else you will be consumed." Genesis 19:17 New Revised Standard Version

Lot fears he cannot make it to the hills, so he asks of the angels that he be allowed to seek shelter in a small town--Zoar. His family reaches the town, but women being as we are rarely follow advice and the wife looks back:

But Lot's wife, behind him, looked back, and she became a pillar of salt. Genesis 24:26 New Revised Standard Version

Salt is interesting. It was once highly covetted as a spice, Romans paid their army in salt. Is salt really bad? But tears are described as salty, so are other parts of the body. Salt comes with sweat, whether from work or sex. But as we are warned in Luke, being too worldly has a cost. That life is not meant for us to strive for the material:

On that day no one who is on the roof of his house, with his goods inside, should go down to get them. Likewise, no one in the field should go back for anything. Remember Lot's wife!Whoever tries to keep his life will lose it, and whoever loses his life will preserve it. Luke 17:31-33 New International Version

My question is, is it really that bad to be turned into salt? We all look back from time to time, and all recieve our due punishment for it. But salt is a natural mineral of the earth, made to be reborn.

You are the salt of the earth. But if the salt loses its saltiness, how can it be made salty again? It is no longer good for anything, except to be thrown out and trampled by men. Matthew 5:13 New International Version

And so despite reaching the safety of Zoar, I looked back. I have become a pillar of salt. However, I must have lost my saltiness long ago, because I was looking back on the ways in which I have been trampled. Can I become salty again?

The family you make

2006-07-01T12:59:00.000-05:00

Being an only child I am a strong believer in making friendships that extend your family. I have a couple of friends that I consider siblings. I have other friends that are so close to me I don't know what I would do without them. For the most part, these friendships weather the storm of distance. I have very few close friends close by where I am currently living, however, when you make good friendships and truly connect with people time and distance do not seem impede the value or comfort of the friendships.

By nature I am a caretaker. I like to care for the one's I love and see them well. When I thought I would give myself to an intentional community and dedicate myself to social justice issues. I idolized Dorothy Day and the Catholic Worker Movement. I lived and worked in a Catholic Worker for awhile, I considered leaving school and giving myself to that life and serving god. I can't really say what happened that changed that. But events unfolded such that I realized that was not the path for me. While I craved community and understanding, it was not in that form. I work to live my life in the spirit and make all my interactions with other's meaningful and honest. I fail of course, but like Thomas Kelly says, "begin again where you are."

My current life is the most stable and fulfilling that it has been in years. I have a happy, loving relationship with my family. I am grateful for that, because it did not always seem like that was a possibility. I know in my heart that my life would not be the way it is now if it wasn't the love and support of my "chosen" family. The friendships that sustain me through sorrows and joys have allowed me to come to the place I am now.

I am planning on going the route of working professional these days. I want a salaried job that will fulfill my need to serve others but allow me to live in the "style to which I have become accoustomed." But not out of some middle-class need for stability, but to pay back those that have helped me when I most needed it. I want to be able to step in and make sure my friends have a safe harbor, whether that is a bed for a night or a month, or food in their bellies, or a monatary loan.

I have been thinking about all this recently. Two very dear people to me are suffering and I feel as though there is nothing more I can do to help that to be "present" with them. And know that means a lot, but at the same time it is hard to see someone you love suffer. I thought to turn to Dorothy Day and Thomas Kelly's writings today, hoping for something that could comfort me. But neither offered the comfort I desired, the words of wisdom I hoped for and found so many other times from them, did not speak to my condition. So I am left with prayer and while that is still a powerful tool and comfort, it leaves me still feeling that I am watching them being swept away in a torrent and can offer nothing, nothing to bouy them or support them.

We are all broken people to one degree or another. We are all struggling under our demons and inner conflicts. But how can one spread light and love? Its it patience and prayer? Or a solid prescence in the lives of others saying I am not going anywhere and you had better not leave me, damn you.

Nomad in Pants; alone, lost, and feeling awkward

2006-06-24T12:59:00.000-05:00

Recently, I was talking with a friend who was asking how I pronounced something. She has been hanging out with some folks from Michigan. I told that while she may think my mid-western accent is still strong, it has had time to adapt. I have been back and forth between home and the east coast for nine years. It was one of those revelations that makes you reflect on your life, where it is and where it has been.

I am in a graduate program where I am at least four years older than the majority of my cohort. It makes me feel old sometimes. It makes me feel like I have seen many more snapshots of the world than they have. It makes me think about how nomadic I have been in the 9 years since I first left the shores of Lake Superior.

My friend and I also discussed fast-food employees that day. She was surprised to learn that my first job had been at Hardee's. She has been working retail all through college and graduate school, in addition to a research assistantship. But I am amused when people who meet me through professional settings are shocked to learn some of the jobs I had over the years. A person has to earn a living, you have to humble yourself to the mighty dollar. So inevitably you take jobs that sacrifice some dignity, that is, people will treat as though you are less than they are. There is a contempt and rudeness people show for fast-food employees and other minimum wage jobs that you don't get if you are percieved as being educated or on your way to middle class status. Even in my last retail job I was able to retain the feeling of being a person with dignity that I often did not get while I worked fast-food. Of course, my boss at the last job treated most of the customers with a bit of contempt to it was easier to realize I didn't need to take shit from people.

That was a bit of a side-bar to what I really started out to say. I recently was in a store where a song was playing it sounded sorta country, but I really don't pay much attention to popular music, so god knows what it was. But the jist of it was that you could always go home; there is always a place for you at home. How I wish that were true. After college I tried. I wanted to go home. I have family obligations that would be so much easier to keep an eye on if I were close by. Life didn't work out that way. I can't live in my hometown. It's leathal for me. I tried to move to a larger city in my home state, but that didn't work either. And now I am on the east coast too far away from my family. I am happy here; I think I could have a good life here.

I was listening to music while at work today (I have a professional type job these days, but sometimes you have to work on the weekend anyway) and I heard "Girl, from the North Country" by my main man Bob Dylan. And it was hard to realize that that won't be me. I always identified with it in a way, but I am not her. In this version of an odessy, I am a nomad in pants taking a road that I don't know where it will lead me. I am alone, lost, and feeling awkward.

Why Elizabeth Bathurst?

2006-06-23T02:33:00.000-05:00

1) She wrote so well that there was speculation she was actually a man writing under a pseudonym. I aspire to write well enough to inspire gender confusion.

2) She was weak and sickly and didn't let that interfere with her ministry. I am sickly myself.

3) Despite all our self-congradulating talk about women's equality, there weren't/aren't that many female Quaker theologians. I'm a girl who thinks theology is important. Also, female role models.

4) Because I'm so not posting my real name on the internets.

Love,
Elizabeth Bathurst

I left my heart in Pistoia; the nunnery Part I

2006-06-22T15:46:00.000-05:00

I have joked for years about how one of my callings on this earth is to found the first order of Quaker nuns. When I was younger and more bitter about my celibacy, I used to refer to it as the "nonery" and call us "nones." Because I am clever.

There are many reason's why I would consider starting a Quaker order of nuns, rather than just biting the bullet (for some militaristic imagery) and becoming a Catholic. First, converting is a pain. Second, I like being Quaker and while there are aspects of the Catholic church that I respect a great deal...there are other aspects that don't jive with my world-view. Thirdly, there is the whole debate (internal mostly) about marrying god and giving up worldly things, like sex.

See I have always prefered to qualify my celibacy by saying it is forced and not self-imposed. There is a little part of me that wonders if there are people placed on this earth who are not ment for carnal love affairs but are here to give themselves (w)hol(el)y to the divine to serve as vesels and instruments of god's love. But then there is a part of me who truly does not believe that god would ask us to give up sex. It is something that can be a religious exerience that is shared with another; it isn't meant to be frivolious or cheep or impersonal, it is meant to be mystical.

So what would my Quaker order of nuns be like? Is is realistic or just my bitterness at a life of celibacy? I know I am cappable of living an intentional and devoted life. But am I capable of living that life and knowing passion with another?

True God from true God

2006-06-14T13:16:00.000-05:00

Due to family obligations, I recently found myself in a Catholic church for mass on a Saturday afternoon. Amid the mental gymnastics of trying to remember what to do and say when and deciding how to balance being respectful without being hypocritical, I found myself touched by the celebration of the Pentecost.
The Pentecost story is from chapter 2 of Acts, where the Holy Spirit descends on the Apostles and a bunch of other people in a gust of wind. Then there are flames that look like tongues on people's foreheads and whenever someone talks, everyone else hears it in their own language. Kind of like a backwards Tower of Babel.
I grew up aware of Pentecostal churches. I knew that the speaking in tongues, which is mocked in some circles as being among the more ridiculous of christian practices, was based on a bible story and that it was supposed to be a manifestation of the Holy Spirit. It's a denomination that always struck me as theoretically experiential.
In theory, the catholic church is the same way. The bread and wine aren't symbolic of blood and flesh, they are actually transubstantiated into the body and blood of Christ. I know very few Catholics who actually believe this, but that's beside the point.
I'm not convinced that everyone who speaks in tongues is actually being moved by the Spirit to do so every time any more than I believe that transubstantiation happens during every mass. I'm not about to say it never happens. I'm definitely not going to say it can't. I believe that the Holy Spirit is capable of creating events which appear irrational or impossible.
The priest had some lovely things to say during his homily about experiencing the Holy Spirit. He then clarified that we all knew what he was talking about because we'd all been baptised, confirmed and taken communion in the Church. Well, not quite.
Maybe the only reason I have experienced the Holy Spirit is that I was baptised with water as a baby and fed some leftover Host as a toddler. But I happen to believe that the movings of the Holy Spirit in me and my life have more to do with His plans than anything that my mother and/or a couple of priests did before I was old enough to remember or understand. Whatever the reason, whatever the means, I am grateful for the presence of the Spirit in my life and for reflections of my experience in the experiences of others.

Love,
Elizabeth Bathurst

Where I have been...ruminations on the tower of Babel

2006-06-09T07:57:00.000-05:00

I could start this by being all self-pitying and self-centered and say that my recent travels have been a metaphor for my life--lost and alone. But then someone would say "yea, whatever, she is in Tuscany. I do not feel bad for her."

Italian is a language many people say they want to learn but it seems that few follow up on this. I wonder why? It is a beautiful language made to express strong emotions. I think that there are important lessons to be learned from the Italian way of life. They are not one of the economic powerhouses of Europe and part of that is because they still cling to the way life has been for centuries. This is evident in the beauty and sofistication of the crumbling villas; the way the sun refects off the young buds that will become olives; the roosters crowing all day long; the dogs that run free; the the italians arguing politics over a shot of expresso. In some ways I truly appreciate the way life has been preserved here, the way the olive trees and grape vines are the backbone of life. I am even more appreciative of this after my trips to Florence and Siena where I see Americans being ugly, rufusing to attempt to learn even the simplest Italian phrases or refusing to accept cultural differences. It pains me to make my colleagues and co-workers talk in English; I can understand a lot of Italian if it is slow but my ability to talk is almost non-existent. I feel the pain of coming from a country so proud it trandscends arrogance to something above and beyond expression.

The kindness that has been shown to me is amazing. I wish that somehow Italians could export that mind-set and way of living life to American we would be better for it. I feel a bit like Scarlett O"hara, "I have always depended on the kindness of strangers." Or however that quote is supposed to go.

Ciao!

The everyday is sacred

2006-05-21T11:02:00.000-05:00

I was listening to "Holy Now" by Peter Mayer recently when I ought to have been in meeting. I was indulging in a little house-to-myself time instead.

"Wine into water is not so small,
but an even better magic trick
is that anything is here at all.
So, the challenging thing becomes
not to look for miracles,
but finding where there isn't one.

When holy water was rare at best
I barely wet my finger tips.
Now I have to hold my breath
like I'm swimming in a sea of it.

It used to be a world half-there
heaven's second rate hand-me-downs
but I'm walking with a reverent air
cause everything's holy now. "

I wasn't at meeting last week either. Last week I had worship at the home of a friend after a lovely breakfast. Part of the reason that early Friends adopted the phrase "meeting house" for the buildings they built for communal worship was that they regarded the people as the church.
The monthly meetings I have access to rarely meet my spiritual needs and I am grateful that He hasn't asked me to commit to any of them. I still go to meeting frequently, but certainly not every week. I do try to be aware of my place in the Church on a daily basis. Am I being attentive to the needs of the people around me? Am I encouraging their growth in grace as well as my own?
Sometimes, even when I'm feeling the need to take care of myself and I know that attending meeting isn't absolutely nessecary, I can still feel guilty about skipping meeting. It's good to be reminded of all of Creation is holy and that the First Communion was Jesus sharing a meal with His friends.

Love,
Elizabeth Bathurst

The next movie I watch about a plane will be S.O.A.P.

2006-05-08T11:01:00.000-05:00

I saw United 93 over the weekend. Most of the discussion I've heard about the movie was whether or not it was too soon to revisit 9/11. Without question, it is still too soon to be entertained by the 9/11 story. But this movie isn't entertaining. It felt like a horrible and realistic reenactment and it helped me grieve. It helped me take back the memory of United 93 from the warmongering that embraced the phrase "Let's Roll." I was able to reclaim the memory of the awfulness of that day and the sympathy I felt for the people who were faced with making unthinkable moral decisions based on very limited information under a very tight deadline.

After the movie, I was discussing the it with friends, some of whom had just watched the movie with me, and some who had not. Someone asked a non-American in the group about his responses to 9/11. He likened his response with his response the Kashmir earthquake in 2005. It's true that the Kashmir earthquake killed a great many more people, but for me the difference is vast. A natural disaster has yet to make me contemplate pacifism, universalism or the nature of justice. I'm able to simply grieve for the victims of natural disasters. I cry, I pray, and I send money when I can. Suffering that is related to "Acts of God," however influenced by human incompetence or wit, is easier for me to comprehend than acts of extreme violence.

The magnitude of 9/11 for me wasn't the destruction of buildings, or an alteration in my feeling safe as an American. It wasn't even the horrific deaths although some images from the towers still haunt me. It was knowing that these acts of desperation and hatred would be met with large scale revenge. By some estimates, the wars waged in response to that Tuesday morning's hijacked planes have killed almost 250,000 people to date. 9/11 was a horrible tragedy in and of itself, but it was only the beginning of a very dark time.

Today, we are living in a world where too many decisions are being made in fear, in hate, in confusion and in revenge. I feel as though all I have to fight against the wars being carried out in my name is my voice and that my voice is drowned out by so many other voices. I don't think anyone is actually listening, anyway. I feel so helpless and so scared.

Towards the end of the film, there's a period of time where everyone is praying. The prayers of the hijackers, the passengers and the flight attendants are all overlapping in the chaos. Surely God is able to hear each of us, distinctly, as we cry out to Him in our time of need, no matter what language we speak or how many of His children are crying to Him at once.

Love,
Elizabeth Bathurst

You get so Alone it all just makes Sense

2006-05-07T10:58:00.000-05:00

Sometimes that which provides you with the most solace is not the Spirit nor a friend, but something dear and comforting...like a new book of poems by Charles Bukowski.

In my current life, I am loosely affiliated with academics. Thus, I am a bit stressed out as "it is that time of year." To procrastinate last night, (my hott Saturday night consisted of writing a paper on Cerebrovascular events aka stroke) I went to a book store to see if I could find any books in italian...I am leaving in less that two weeks for Italia and am trying to learn Itanian in-between all of my other committments. There were no books in Italian and somehow I found myself in the Poetry section.

Hank and I have been acquainted for at least 8 years now. He and his crusty take on life have seen me through many difficulities. People are always surprised that such an aredent feminist could love Hank. But I do. Years ago for an English class a friend and I had to give a presentation on Hank. I think the whole class was expecting the typical feminist tirade about him being such a misogynist, but then we got up and praise him. Mouths hit the floor. There is a quote I really want to track down someday that has to do with being a "critical lover" and that is what I am. And I think that is what Hank is.

Yea, he's a bastard. He's crusty and angry and misanthropic, but then you get to lines, which usually occur at the end of a poem, and blow away by the beauty. There is no way he can be all bad. I tend to think that all the crusty misanthropic talk is just to cover up a bare and wounded soul, the type of soul that those of us who care to much have...it is battered and angry and since we feel powerless against the shit that fate has thrown us and those around us, we engage in self destructive behaviors, drinking, smoking, meaningless sex. And that is why sometimes the only comfort a soul can find is in a glass of whiskey and Charles Bukowski.

...I loved you
like a man loves a woman he never touches, only
writes to, keeps little photographs of. I would have
loved you more if I had sat in a small room rolling a
cigarette and listened to you piss in the bathroom.

....I would have probably been unfair to you or you
to me. it was best like this.

Charles Bukowski, an almost made up poem

Convincement

2006-05-05T10:45:00.000-05:00

My yearly meeting reads our Advices aloud at close of sessions following meeting for worship on First Day. When I reread the Advices to myself, I often hear my father's inflection on certain words, like "worship" and "banal" as he has read them aloud in recent years. It's a very comforting piece of prose, even this part:

"For although we recognize the children of our members as objects of our care, and partakers of the outward privileges of Christian fellowship, we would earnestly remind all that such recognition cannot constitute them members of the Lord's Spiritual Israel. Nothing can effect this but the power of the Holy Spirit working repentance toward God and faith toward our Lord Jesus Christ. Therefore, let the words of our Holy Redeemer have due place with us all, "Ye must be born again." May all of our members become such on the ground of true conversion, and be prepared in their several places to bring forth fruit unto God."

For years, I glossed over the importance of all that "Holy Redeemer" and "born again" stuff. It just wasn't relevant to my life or my experience. That language was used by hypocritical, judgemental people who were far more concerned with getting into Heaven than making God happy. The important part of that passage to me, for many years was the idea that one had to have a real relationship with God in order to be a member of the meeting. You couldn't just go through the motions or grow up in the meeting.

I joined the meeting I grew up in a long time ago. It wasn't some sort of life-changing experience, I was just ready to join in the spiritual life of the meeting. I served on committees and attended business meeting. I began to speak in meeting, albeit reluctantly.

I related to the conversion stories in the journals of early Friends. I heard the voice of the Lord audibly from an early age, so early that it didn't occur to me that this wasn't a perfectly normal experience until I was in my late teens. I saw things. I felt things. But I didn't have a deer-in-the-headlights moment of conversion myself. I understood continuing revelation as a slow life-long process.

Fast forward to another First Day worship at close of sessions almost two years ago. I was freaking out. I knew that way was opening for me to move to Boston and I knew that a large part of my motivation for leaving North Carolina was to get away from the evidence of my mistakes. I was deeply fearful that I'd failed in His plan for me so utterly, He'd just given up on me. And for the first time, I let go of the anger. I'd always blamed God when I failed. If He'd given me just a little more guidance or asked something a little more realistic I would've been able to pull it off. There I was, wallowing in my newfound awareness of my sins and as soon as I had listed everything I could think of that I wished I had done differently, every aspect of myself that falls short of perfection and apologized for it all, I felt His hand on my forehead as I heard His voice say: "You are forgiven".

I've been a different person since then. Sometimes it's more obvious to me than other times. I've been handling the difficult things in my life a lot better. I spend less time berating God and I'm far less reluctant to speak the messages I'm given in worship. I'm just generally calmer. I can't go so far as to say I've found anything that resembles Joy, but I have I been born again of the incorruptible seed. And it has made me a better person.

I'm writing all this not to try to convince anyone to say some magic words like "I accept Jesus Christ as my personal Lord and Savior." Those stories are a dime a dozen and never spoke to me. I believe that we each have our own path to travel and so long as we are faithful to our Guide, we'll get where we need to be. I can't give any sort of advice on how to be obedient. All I'm saying is that this is what happened to me and I'm not being allowed to hide it anymore, apparently.

"Since you have purified your souls in obeying the truth through the Spirit in sincere love of the brethren, love one another fervently with a pure heart, having been born again, not of corruptible seed but incorruptible, through the word of God which lives and abides forever." 1 Peter 1:22-23

I still believe that continuing revelation is a slow life-long process. I don't have all the answers and I never will, but each day is an opportunity to learn just a little more and grow just a little closer to Christ.

Love,
Elizabeth Bathurst

Where do all the young Quakers go?

2006-05-03T23:10:00.000-05:00

So come and gather around me my contemporary peers
And I'll tell you all the story of
Jesus...The Missing Years

--John Prine, Jesus, the Missing Years

It seems that many young Friends drift away during their 20's. Some come back. Some do not. For a religion that is slowly dwindling away one might think that this would be more of a concern to Friends. It is true that Meetings will embrace the young people that stay faithful, and are more than happy to welcome back lost lambs who show up when they are ready to settle down into partnerships and raise children.

But for us, single, childless young Quakers, who occassionally turn up at meeting we get a hello and asked where we are from and if we are new to Friends, but often once it is found out that we are not new to Friends we are rather less interesting. However, if we come several times a month for a few months we become worth investigating. Especially, if we might be open to lending our youthful energy to committees and such.

Now it is true that I have not been to meeting regularly for over a year. However, in the last place I lived, I began going regularly for a time...When I moved home after college I also tried to attend meeting with some regularity...However, I just have not been able to stick with it. It is not a case of needing to seek out that which can speak to my soul, I know I have already found my spiritual home. However, my comfortability with my spiritual home does not extend beyound worship. Now community and the corporate experience of worship are important to me as they are to the larger body of Quakerism. Yet I have not felt comfortable and accepted amoung Friends after meeting has risen. This speaks perhaps of my own discomfort in groups and other issues I have with Friends...but what is interesting to me is that many of the birthright Young Adult Friends and Friends who have attended since before they can remember, do not attend regularly either.

Out of the 15 or so young adult Friends (that come easily to mind, who are between the ages of 25 and 33) who fit into this catagory, only two attend meeting regularly. These are not people who have dabbled in Quakerism. They are all members of meetings somewhere, were raised Quaker, and many of whom were in a Quaker scholarship program in college. I believe all of the individuals I am thinking of still consider themselves Quaker, and are not seeking other spiritual homes. Yet we do not attend meeting. One would think these are the type of young people we would want to encourage to remain connected to Quakerism. However, many I have talked with have had experiences with meetings similar to mine, when they have attempted to return--because they have longings to return--have felt isolated, underwelcome, and alone. Some come to meeting and cry because we are so lost. Some of us come and feel we have nothing in common but worhsip, some of us want to go but will never make the effort.

Now we could look at these as the "lost years" similar to the time in the Bible where Jesus disappears around 12 and re-appears at 30-ish. Or it could just be that all young people go through a period of being in the desert...being tempted by Satan, but that is only supposed to be 40 days, right?...or perhaps we are to wander like god's chosen people for 40 years...but I don't think have seen any manna, much less had the joy of eating it. But why are there "lost years?" Do we just need time to be of the world for a time, to be better grounded in our faith later? Is it some type of spiritual test? Or is there something lacking in Quakerism that we keep stepping over like a dead dog in the center of the Meeting room floor?

Things you save for rainy days...

2006-05-02T23:14:00.000-05:00

First, I would like to start by saying...that despite all attempts to hide it...I am a sentimentalist. Secondly, because of this I spend most of my time being bitter and angry. Now I will do something I regret because all of you will somehow want to remind me of this when I become angry again. Just remember I repress, repress, repress--ACT OUT!

Today I was thinking about the lovely weather we are having right now. I know its dry, but it is so sunny and warm...it hasn't gotten terribly humid yet, its quite lovely. And I was thinking about how glad I am to be alive. And what a wonderful world we live in that there are not one but two young men who make me smile to myself these days. And I feel silly about it, but its nice. Now I can understand why people become serial monogamists, its nice to feel the excitement of it. The flirtation, the unanticipated and endearing personality quirks. But then I wonder where are these things going...one lives so far away, but he is nerd-licious and geek-tastic all rolled into one mild mannered exterior, with a raging sense of humor underneath. He is so damn sexy. The other I see almost everyday...he looks at me like I am gorgeous. He makes me feel desirable...and he makes me laugh...but how do I know which is the path? Or perhaps its just safer to end the possibilities before they begin...Or do I just enjoy the secret smiles to myself as I walk into a beautiful day thinking of the vast possibility of things.