A Journey That Must Be Shared

The Necessity of Spiritual Nurture

Remarks to the Mid-Winter Retreat

of the Spiritual Formation Program

of Philadelphia Yearly Meeting

Kennett Meeting February 10, 2001

Thomas H. Jeavons

My charge today is to talk with you about the importance of nurturing one another on our faith journeys. I will suggest to you that this is not merely important, it is absolutely necessary. We do not just have an option to share our faith journeys. Rather, if we are people who are truly experiencing and hoping to grow in the Presence of the Divine, we are required to do this for two reasons (at least), neither of which has anything to do with external rules, or even “moral imperatives” (in any conventional sense). These reasons are internal to the essential dynamics of faith and spiritual growth.

+ First, we must share our faith journeys, and our experiences of the Divine, because the good news of God's love in our lives will demand this of us. If what we are experiencing is an encounter with God, the Holy and Loving Creator of the Universe, then we will be transformed in ways that lead us to want to respond—to feel we must respond—to others who are being similarly transformed by similar experiences, or even those who just hunger for such experiences. I know this experientially. I have friends of many faiths who have been critical helpers to me on the journey of faith, and for whom I have been able to provide guidance or nurture from time to time; and we have done that for one another just because we were “led” to do so. I am more and more amazed at how often I find out that someone for whom I just feel a natural affinity in a professional meeting or a casual social encounter turns out to be someone with a deep spiritual commitment and/or yearning. Thus the experience of being unexplainably and inextricably linked to others on the walk of faith is not peculiar to me. Thomas Kelly said that when we are living in the Spirit, “we find ourselves in a new particular relation to a few of our fellows. The relation is so surprising and so rich that we despair of finding a word glorious ... enough to name it. ... A new kind of life-sharing has arisen... A wholly new alignment of our personal relations appears.”(Testament of Devotion, pp.77). The Psalmist celebrates this sense of being linked to others who also truly seek God when she writes, “As for the saints in the land, they are the ones in whom is all my delight.” (Psalm 16:3). If we think we are engaged in a walk with, and growth in, the Divine, but feel no impetus to share what we are finding with others, then we are deluding ourselves. God calls us into community. God does not come to us ever just to enrich or satisfy us individually; but rather always with the additional purpose of building us up to be part of the body of faithful and loving persons who can be—with God—co-creators of a better world and servants of those who are still seeking wholeness, hope, peace and justice.

+ Second, must share our walk in faith because we will simply never get very far in that walk, in our individual spiritual journeys, if we are not open to the instruction, guidance, support and correction of others who are also trying to “walk the walk.” The human tendencies toward self-deception, delusion, and just going astray (sin) are too great, and will overcome us without the help and (at the least) occasional direction of others. But the good news is that our weaknesses and failings, when we own them and wrestle with them honestly, can make us more compassionate, less judgmental, and more loving. And if owning our faults and shortcomings leads us to seek the help of others, that is a good thing. St. Bernard of Clairvaux, a brilliant theologian and contemplative as well as abbot of a monastery once told his monks. “Almighty God can immediately bring to perfection anyone he [or she] pleases, and give to each one all the virtues. But God's loving provision for us is such that each one [of us] needs the others, and what one does not find in him- [or her-] self he [or she] has in the other. Thus humility is preserved, love increased, and unity realized.” (From Contemplative Community p 125.)

Now, the great wonder of this, the great wonder of the ways in which we need one another and find one another, is in how it unfolds.

I am much drawn to the Catholic understanding of “mystery.” The inherently connected nature of our individual journeys of faith is such a mystery. Mystery not in the trite sense one sees in a movie where some old priest turns away a question he doesn't want to answer by saying, “It’s a mystery my son.” But rather in the sense that some things in the life of faith, like the way the Divine is present to us in the encounter of communion, can be only inadequately described with words, and never really captured. At some level, I believe this is true of all manifestations of God's grace; and it is surely true of the ways we nurture and support—and are nurtured and supported by—one another in the life of faith and in spiritual growth.

+ I say this because there is no explaining how we find the right people at the right times, or are given the right people at the right times, to help us make the next step on this journey, but it so often happens.

+ I say this because there is no explaining how we sometimes know the right thing to do to encourage, guide or support some other person, when the knowing of that is clearly in us even though we know we never learned it, and yet that happens.

+ I say this because there is no explaining how we often set out to say or do the right thing to nurture someone else, and we do what we intend, and that is fine; yet it is something else we did without thinking (or incidentally) that turns out to be the most important thing to the person we tried to nurture, but that too is how it works so often.

+ I say this because there is no explaining how spiritual growth occurs in us as a result of our being open sometimes just when we need to be, to some word or experience we have never been open to before, and didn't intend to be now. But it happens again and again. All these things happen with amazing frequency. I think all of us in this room know that experiences like these represent the key junctures, the critical moments, on our paths towards spiritual growth and maturity. I also think all of us know we could not explain these things ‘rationally’ if our lives depended on it.

So I want to talk today about three things. First, how it is simply true, and how important it is, that we are connected in all this—connected, in the language of Friends, “in the things that are eternal.” Second, I want to talk about how vital it is that we reach out to others to help them along the path; and be open ourselves to the guidance and support that others may offer to us. Finally, I want to talk about how important it is for those who treasure the spiritual vision/tradition of Quakerism to be more intentional about this.

ON THE REALITY OF BEING CONNECTED

I want to begin in a very personal mode. A few of you know that I hold a Ph.D. in a field of the social sciences, and I warn you I am about to do what I was taught in my research training never to do, which is generalize from a sample of one. I am going to begin by talking about my personal experience, and say what I think can be learned from it in far broader terms. (But with a nod to my doctoral committee I would add that I have talked to many, many people whose experience has led them to very similar views.) So, I want to share a few of the vignettes from my own life, and my own faith journey, that have convinced me that we are all connected in that which is eternal; that God is present to us and at work in our lives all the time, and most often through the love and care of other people.

[1] Mountains & YMCA: The first place I know this happened for me was in the time I spent and the people who cared for me at YMCA camp I attended when I was in 3rd and 4th grades. (In fact, I went there every summer from the time I was 8 until I was 17, spending the last three years on the staff.) In 3rd and 4th grade I was at a point in my life when my family of origin was breaking up. In fact, I remember my father telling me that he and my mother were no longer going to live together on the drive to camp the first time I went. My parents divorce was not an ugly one. In fact, it was remarkably friendly. Still, I am pretty sure I was greatly distressed by this news. It was a time that things could have fallen apart from me. But they did not. In fact, my time at that camp was really the origin of my developing a deep and (so far) lasting faith. Two things in the camp experience contributed to that. One was just being in a place where the stunning beauty of the Rocky Mountains—in its awesome grandeur and its intimate details—surrounded me each day; and something in me knew that something that beautiful could only be the result of the act of a Loving Creator. My faith took root in and is still nourished by—the beauty of nature. (Especially in what I like to call “my mountains”). The second thing that contributed to that were several counselors and others on staff who saw in me a spiritually inquisitive and sensitive child, who was something of a loner but full of wonder, and responded to that. These were people who listened to my 8- and 9-year-old's speculations about who God might be; who let me skip some planned activities to just sit on the edge of a bluff overlooking the Colorado River and the Continental Divide and stare at that sight as long as I wanted; and who encouraged me to participate in activities that introduced me to Native American culture and spirituality, and made me (and all the other campers) go to chapel services twice a week. I first discovered my connection to the Divine in that place, and through the spiritual nurture of those people.

[2] Mass & Breakfast with Tony Jarvis: Another person who helped me find faith was the Reverend F. Washington Jarvis—known as Tony. In fourth grade, after my parent's divorce, I moved back to Cleveland (where I was born and my parents came from) with my mother and brothers. My mother insisted that my brothers and I attend church and Sunday school until we reached the age of confirmation (13). Then could decide for ourselves whether we wanted to be part of the church or not. In seventh grade I had to go through the confirmation class, maybe 20 (or more) 2 to 3 our long, weekly, after school sessions on Bible, theology and church history -- with tests. It was a big Episcopal church, and these classes were taught by Tony who was the 2nd Assistant Curate, a brilliant man, fine teacher, and someone who liked to be around adolescents. He challenged us intellectually, and befriended us personally. He made us think, and fed us pizza. Most importantly, he listened to us, and took us seriously. In my case, he acknowledged all my precocious, intellectual cynicism and still made me want to be part of the church. Indeed, I choose to be confirmed, and then became an acolyte (server or altar-boy). This was happening at another very difficult time for me. My mother's second marriage, to an alcoholic, was falling apart, and our household was not a stable or happy place. Tony Jarvis, as a mentor and as a minister, reached out to me. He invited me to serve at the early communion (8AM) whenever he did that service. A relatively small number of people attended that service, so only one server was needed. This meant when it was over he and I could sit in the church kitchen, have a cup of tea and a roll, and talk about life for half an hour until he had to get ready for the next service. Tony also persuaded me to tutor inner-city kids in reading, and take on other service ministries. Tony helped me see and feel God's love in the world—in the worship and liturgy of the church,, in his care for me, and (maybe even) in my caring for someone less fortunate than myself.

[3] Boulder Meeting: Through my junior high and high school years I was very active in the Episcopal church, but also explored a number of other spiritual traditions. I read widely about Judaism and Buddhism especially. I had many Jewish friends with whom I attended services occasionally, and whose invitations to seders (and such) I welcomed. One of my best friends was a Quaker, which is how I first got acquainted with Quakerism. Then I went off to college at the University of Colorado. In my first two years I took a huge load of credit hours, was heavily involved in the theater, spent all the time I could hiking and climbing, partied a good bit, and had very little time for any organized religious activities. But somewhere near the end of my sophomore year I felt the need to reconnect to a spiritual community and tradition. I found that the Episcopal Church in Boulder was not going to do it for me. A friend on the faculty mentioned to me that there was a Quaker Meeting in Boulder, and told me how to find it. From the first time I walked though the door of that Meeting I was welcomed,, fully and attentively. A few people took the time to get to know me, invited me to participate in Meeting activities, invited me to their homes for lunch or dinner. I was asked by the Meeting, but not pushed, to be part of groups planning projects. As people got to know me, they would ask me to help with things I was good at. The last couple years of college were a lonely time for me in some ways, and the support and nurture I received from members of Boulder Meeting was very important to me. After I had been around regularly for about a year—I almost never missed a Sunday—someone even asked me if I wanted to become a member. I actually did not feel ready to join when they first asked. In fact, I ended up leaving Boulder for about eight months right after I graduated, but then was back for about a year; and at the end of that year I did join, knowing that these people represented and walked in the spiritual tradition I wanted to walk in. It was my experience of this Meeting that made me want to go to the Earlham School of Religion to learn more about Quakerism.

[4] The Covenant Fellowship: Well, one thing led to another (as they say), and only five years after I joined Boulder Friends Meeting I ended up being appointed as the Executive Secretary of Baltimore Yearly Meeting. (Only now, as I think back on this, do I realize how strange that seems.) In between came two years at ESR, and I could certainly talk some about the wonderful ways in which some faculty members nurtured and challenged me spiritually as well as intellectually. But the next experience of spiritual nurture I want to talk about came from a group that (informally) called itself “the covenant fellowship.” Shortly after I became the Executive Secretary of Baltimore YM (at age 26), I made the discovery that I was nowhere near spiritually mature enough to be carrying the responsibilities I was. ("Well, dunhh!" you might say, but it really was a surprise to me.) At that point I recalled all the wonderful stuff I had read about the role of elders in the Religious Society of Friends, about the wise and discerning souls who once were responsible for identifying and calling forth the gifts of others, and guiding and encouraging them in the exercise of those gifts; but when, in hope of getting some help, I looked around in the Meetings I knew for those folks, I couldn't find any. We did not seem to have elders anymore. Fortunately for me, over the course of about nine months towards the end of the first year I was on the job, I was given four people to serve in that role for me. To be more accurate, I should say we were given to each other. Each of us was new in a paid position of leadership in a Quaker institution, in a position of 'public ministry. Most of us were younger than people probably ought to be in those roles. But the sixty year-olds were all retiring, and there were no fifty year-olds and hardly any forty year-olds around applying for these jobs, so a bunch of us younger Friends were being appointed to these jobs. We all felt ill-equipped in terms of our "spiritual seasoning," and realized we would need to be elders to one another if we hoped to have any eldering at all. So this group of four men and one woman, in our late twenties and thirties, except for one who was 45, began to meet together five or six times a year for a day-and-a-half (most times) of worship, and sharing what was going on in our lives and our work, and prayer, and breaking bread together. We'd do this whenever our travel schedules could be arranged to bring us together. We also prayed for one another regularly, and asked for and offered each other advice and counsel as needed. We covenanted to 'be there' for one another. This went on for four or five years, until people started leaving these jobs. It is hard to explain how important this was to me. These folks encouraged me when I was down; and told me to slow down when I was going too fast. They held my feet to the fire when I was drifting away from the things I said I wanted to do and be—whether that was in my prayer life, my family life or my work life. They asked me hard questions when I looked like I was about to do something stupid; helped me learn from and get past my mistakes (when I did do something stupid); and prayed for me regularly. (I also did these things for them.) And looking back I know that my capacity to survive with integrity in a stressful and spiritually perilous position for nine years, and do things that may have advanced the work of the Holy Spirit, was in no small measure a function of my being part of this "covenant fellowship."

[5] Nancy Wrigglesworth: Actually, in this same time I did meet one elder, one whom early Friends might have described as “a mother in Israel.” Nancy was a person who was one of the anchors of her Meeting, a farm wife and mother and nurse and lover of the earth. When I first visited her Meeting in rural Pennsylvania, she took me home for lunch after meeting for worship, and we talked for a long time over her kitchen table. After that whenever I visited that Meeting (which I did about twice as often as I visited most others) there would always be at least one late night conversation over her kitchen table, in the course of which I would always find myself telling her about what I cared most deeply about, or worried most about, right then; and she would somehow end up helping me see what to do or not to do. Nancy literally and figuratively took me “under her wing.” When she died a couple years after I left my position with Baltimore Yearly Meeting it was like losing a close relative. Even though I cannot tell you just how it is so, I know I am a better person and a better Christian for having been “under her care” for those years.

[6] University Park Church of the Brethren: When I stopped being the Executive Secretary of Baltimore Yearly Meeting I found it very hard to be “just a member” of a local Meeting in that area. We moved a longer distance away from Bethesda Meeting where our membership was, and the closer Meetings didn't really work for us. In truth, it was hard from some Friends to let me be “just a member;” in addition to which, I have to admit, at that point my tolerance for Quaker foolishness and foibles was very low. Much to our surprise, and then our joy, Gretchen and I discovered a small Brethren congregation about six blocks from our home. We started attending occasionally over the summer, when we wanted some kind of Sunday school program for our (then) two young children, and the local Meetings were essentially taking the summer off (as Meetings tend to do). When we first visited the Church of the Brethren we were greeted (if you can pardon the pun) like long lost friends. Gretchen loved being in a place where there was music. I loved being in a place where the Bible was valued, and Scripture was reflected on in ways that were both comforting and challenging. Our kids loved the caring they felt, and being included as active participants in the service. Most of all we loved being in a community of people who took the time to see who we were, and where we seemed to be on our spiritual journey; and met us where we were, but then invited us to be part of that community's journey. We were nurtured by the gifts and ministry of many—not just the pastor—and invited to bring our gifts to minister there. As I struggled to hold a challenging job, finish my Ph.D., and care for my growing family we were cared for deeply, and invited to be part of caring deeply for others. What a gift! Eventually I found I needed to be in meeting for worship again; but until we left that house to move to Michigan I went to meeting and then—the timing worked—came to the Church of the Brethren joined my family for their services. We still return on Easter (now that we are close enough) to be in a place where they joyously celebrate the risen Christ's presence among them. We still feel connected there. I cannot imagine how impoverished my spiritual journey would be without the love and learning I experienced there.

[7] Mickey Edgerton: The last chapter I want to speak, and person I want mention, in what is getting to be too long a story here, is a person many of you know. She is the most recent of those people who I have come to know as one of "the saints in the land" and true elders among us. When I first came to this job, Mickey Edgerton said to me, “You know, you really need to have a support group outside of the official YM structure to give you guidance and support.” Well, I did find individuals to do some of that, including Mickey. She has regularly set up times for us to break bread together and visit. But each year she would remind me about having a group, and I would say I was just too busy to set up (and meet with) a support committee. Finally, about a year ago, Mickey called and said, “Okay, this is the deal. I’m going to set up your support committee in the next month or so; and if you want to have anything to say about who's on it, you better let me know in the next week!” She had seen how “burnt out” was looking, knew about many of the struggles I was going through at home as well as work, and was not going to let me go down in flames. So last April my support group met for the first time. Their guidance, care and prayers helped me find my balance again last summer (after a very rough year), and I went into the fall feeling better—and clearer about my calling and work—than I had in ages. Then my wife developed cancer, and the roof caved in on my life, and I cannot imagine where I'd be without that group this year; a group which exists because my friend Mickey insisted on being true to her leading, and insisted I open up and accept the guidance and support I needed. I will never be able to thank her enough!

So how did all these people appear in my life when I needed them? (And I have only begun to name a few of the many who have been crucial companions and supports on my faith journey. There are many more.) How did they know the right things to do? How has this all come together in ways that I too have been able to give support and comfort and guidance to many of those who have offered these things to me, and maybe a few others as well? There is only one explanation. This has been all about the God's grace at work! It is about other people, who looked to God for help and wholeness, who had given themselves to the care and trust of the Holy Spirit, then turning around and sharing whatever they have found with me—and others—because they felt compelled to do so, and found joy in doing so even when it was hard. It is about these people feeling connected to all the other people who were also yearning to be in the Presence of the Divine, to abide in the Spirit, and committed to walk the walk of faith. The simple truth is all of us who are striving to walk that walk are connected, in ways we may never understand, by our experiences of yearning for and hoping for and striving for and knowing (if only in some minimal way) God's love in our lives.

On Reaching Out and Being Open

I was thinking how this talk is getting way too long, but then I realized I have already done both Parts I & II in just the telling of my story. If you do not yet see how, let me draw out and highlight the points for Part II. I said Part II was where I wanted to talk about how vital it is that we reach out to others to help them along the spiritual path; and be open ourselves to the guidance and support that others may offer to us. The story I have just shared, my own story, should make clear that I am here before you today with something helpful to share with you about the life of faith—if I have something helpful—only because those things I just named have happened to and for me. People reached out to help me and guide me along the path. They helped in ways not only humane and practical—and I would never, ever denigrate how important that is—but also explicitly spiritual. They have prayed for me, counseled me, sent me lines of Scripture, and provided for me many of the "spiritual works of mercy" Thomas Aquinas names in the Summa Theologiae. In addition, I have somehow been open to accepting, even asking for, their help and guidance; despite being a person who is often stubborn, sometimes prideful, and frequently very cautious and closed emotionally. (And when I say “somehow open” I mean that at times something or someone else, the Holy Spirit I think, has been the one making me open to whatever degree I was, because I know that on some of those occasions I had not intended to be open.) One more quick story may illuminate how helping others grow and be faithful, and then being ‘somehow open’ to that oneself, can matter so much. And not just in terms of individual growth, but also in creating the kind of faith community and collective activity that can nurture everyone. My guess is that for many of you participation in this Spiritual Formation Program has become valuable, even vital to your spiritual journey. Many who participated in last year's program have told me this. Some of you also know that this program began in Baltimore Yearly Meeting 17 years ago. It was born out of an inspiration given to a person who had been long nurtured and care for by others. That person was me. Nothing has given me more satisfaction in my ministry than watching a program I helped design and start carry on through all these years; and hearing from many, many people how significant it has been for their faith journeys. Now I say that with no pride, just joy. Because the design for this program did not come from me, but rather through me. At that time I had been spending a considerable amount of time with the five or six members of BYM's Committee on Nurture & Recognition of Ministry; all deep, seasoned and spiritually-centered Friends, talking and praying about how we could strengthen and deepen the Gospel ministry among Friends again. Several of these Friends had been mentors to me as well as colleagues. Then one day I was out for a walk in the woods behind my house, thinking about some of the things we had pondered, when the design for this program just came to me. I took it back to that group, they revised it with me, took ownership of it themselves, and helped me launch it in Baltimore YM. I was open to Divine guidance because of all those who had nurtured me on my faith journey; and was able to get this started because of the continuing presence, guidance and support of caring and committed people. So you all partake of a spiritually nurturing program, because so many people nurtured me spiritually and helped me be faithful in my ministry, and helped me put in place a program that nurtured others, who have nurtured yet others, who have carried this grace on down for more than a decade, until it has now reached you. The circle of grace is thus far unbroken. Now it comes to you to keep it intact, and expand it further yet.

For the Future of Quakerism

Which leads me to Part III here, which will also be very brief I said that finally I want to talk about how important it is for those who treasure the spiritual vision/tradition of Quakerism to be more intentional about nurturing one another in the life of faith, and reaching out to, and bringing in and caring for, anyone else we see yearning for a closer relationship with God. I say this is vital because if we do not start doing a whole lot more of this than we have been, then our spiritual tradition will die! The heart and soul of Quakerism is a direct, immediate experience of the Divine. The most vital of our collective practices—meeting for worship, meeting for business, clearness committee—revolve around helping us know and respond faithfully to that experience, collectively as well as individually. Fox said his heart leaped when he knew experientially that there “was One, even Christ Jesus, who could speak to his condition,” when he encountered the Holy Spirit up-close and personal. Great Quaker leaders have found the inspiration, guidance and strength for their ministry in their direct experience of the Divine. Moreover, each generation of Quaker leaders and ministers has been brought into and nurtured in that experience by others who have held the meetings for worship where they could find that experience, and who have offered to them the direct individual nurture they needed. Finally, the Quaker testimonies about, and work for, peace and justice and integrity were all born of the experiences and insights of people who were inspired and sustained by a rich life of worship that was deep and powerful. But we know that such worship does not just happen. (At least not usually.) People have to come to it with heart and mind prepared. For meetings for worship to be spiritually powerful (with any frequency), they have to be anchored by spiritually solid people whose experiences of prayer and meditation are deep and rich. That requires both individual spiritual preparation and mutual support. I have often heard Quakerism described as “do-it-yourself religion.” But it is not supposed to be! And when we treat it that way we weaken it enormously, perhaps fatally.

+ Only as we again make Quakerism a ‘do-it-together’ religion will it have the power to transform lives in the ways it once did and should still.

+ Only when we reach out to nurture and care for one another spiritually and practically will we feel and see the astonishing power of the Holy Spirit regularly at work transforming our lives for the better.

+ Only as we are willing to accept the support, guidance, care and spiritual direction others offer us will we find the strength, wisdom and vision to grow as deeply and fully as we should as servants and children of God. St. Bernard was right. It is a good thing we need one another! We should reach out to one another and be there for one another in joy. We should rejoice in and celebrate our interdependence. We need to seek God, and thank God, and serve God, and praise God—together! So I would leave you with one exhortation. I urge you to see that spiritual nurture—giving it and receiving it—is a necessity in the journey of faith. We will not get far without being open to receiving it; and, for that matter, without offering it (in whatever ways we are gifted and called to) to others. Bernard was right. “God's loving provision for us is such that each one [of us] needs the others.” Let us rejoice in that truth. And let us live it out in such a way as to make the love and grace of God visible and tangible to all who encounter us.