Friday, February 24, 2006

Learning to Speak at a Quaker Wedding

This past weekend I spoke at a Quaker wedding, a ceremony that differs only slightly from an ordinary Quaker meeting. I don’t mean that I delivered a sermon. Anyway, such things never happen at a Quaker meeting house. A traditional Quaker meeting isn’t what we used to call, in the Baptist churches of my youth, a “church service,” with a sermon, readings, hymns, and prayers that begin, “Heavenly Father,”—an event that occasionally includes the administering of communion. The only communion at a gathering of Quaker friends is formed out of speech or—maybe especially—silence, the practice of communal silence. It was out of a collective silence that I spoke a few words to the bride and groom, sharing with everyone a story I had suddenly remembered.

My Quaker neighbor, friend, and colleague was being married to a guy she had met at the Quaker meeting house. A diverse crowd gathered for the wedding, because in her friendships and associations, my friend easily crosses the difficult boundaries. She’s politically engaged and wonderfully likable, just the sort of person I would associate with Quakerism today. The proper name for Quakers, the Religious Society of Friends, implies the rejection of clerical hierarchy, and a resistance to political hierarchy, as well. I know enough about the seventeenth century to recall that Quakerism has its roots in the religious and political strife of the English Civil War. Many early Quakers were militant religious dissenters, even soldiers in the battle to overthrow the King and Church of England. Today they are pacifists, but they still quietly challenge established religion. Their meeting places don’t look like churches. Any large room will do. The meetings are unprogrammed. After a period of silence, someone may stand up and speak, moved by the Holy Spirit. Silence follows; then someone else speaks—or not. You shouldn’t speak just to cover the silence. God doesn’t call on you for the reason a teacher does—just to get the discussion going, regardless of whether you have anything to say.

A Quaker wedding, too, always begins with a period of silence, a mental space for reflection. In our busy world, ten silent minutes can seem like an eternity, and it carries with it always some element of risk. I know several couples who would not have survived a period of truly thoughtful silence just prior to their ceremonies.

At the Quaker wedding, the man and woman do exchange vows, but shortly afterwards the usual Quaker meeting resumes. We all sat quietly at first, and then one by one, in no particular order, people stood to speak—to share a message with the couple, to read a poem, to express love and encouragement, to promise support, to tell a story. It isn’t easy to break the silence and speak when so many people seem to be listening, or when to speak means to interrupt a silent prayer. It becomes difficult to think of something to say that is clearly superior to saying nothing, especially among so many eloquent people. But out of the clear sky of nothing in my head, a memory returned to me, one involving my friend’s mother and father (who were not able to travel the long distance to the wedding), and I suddenly felt the urge to share it, especially with my friend. But I was also afraid to speak, because the silence was itself a kind of presence, occupying space in the room. It held the floor. And speaking required a little bit of violence, and—I don’t know if you can feel this, but it was as if speaking required asking the silence, praying to the silence for the gift of speech—and finally, speaking meant speaking within the silence to the silence, even though everyone sat listening. My heart beat fast and my voice quavered as I spoke what could only be said once—before, like everything else, returning to silence.

Broadcast by Joe Chaney on February 24, 2006
Community • Customs & Rituals • Family & Friends • Permalink • Printer Friendly
Google
WWW Michiana Chronicles

A random selection from more than 300 Michiana Chronicles -- refresh the browser to see another set:

Joe Chaney -- Learning to Speak at a Quaker Wedding / More essays by Joe

Louise Collins -- More essays by Louise

April Lidinsky -- More essays by April

Jonathan Nashel -- More essays by Jonathan

Jeff Nixa -- More essays by Jeff

Ken Smith -- More essays by Ken

Jeanette Saddler Taylor -- More essays by Jeanette