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I'm a Quaker.
Did draft counseling during the Vietnam War era with AFSC, went to high school across the street from 15th St. Monthly Meeting, attended Meeting for Worship intermittently while a student in college, and ultimately joined Brooklyn Monthly Meeting during medical school. When I joined the Society of Friends it wasn't an issue of conversion, but rather the applying of the name to something I already was.
To worship in silence speaks to me. To meditate in the presence of a spiritual community who are doing the same thing (as they say in the old Quaker parlence), speaks to my condition. That said, I've had a really hard time getting to Meeting for Worship for a long time. I make time most days for some quiet meditation, often brief, though sometimes not, but I have not been able to get to Meeting for Worship for corporate spiritual meditation for many months. Something always seems to come up. Childbirth, call, traffic, phone calls, or just poor planning on my part. Frankly, the hour is part of this issue. Getting anywhere by 10 am on the one day I usually have free, is difficult for me. For the last month, I have arisen each first day with the intention of heading out to Meeting. This morning was the first time I actually succeeded in the last five attempts. As it was I still got pulled out of meeting twice by phone calls. I'm on call for the group this weekend. (deep sigh)
Oddly enough, what got me determined enough to make it to meeting this morning was a Jewish ritual I performed earlier this week; see post of 9-13. My father was born into and raised within an Orthodox Jewish family. I lit a yahrzeit or memorial candle, then recited Kaddish, last Thursday evening at sundown, alone in my office at the end of the day. As I sat at my desk afterwards, I remembered the gift my Meeting gave me on the first anniversary of my father's death.
Kaddish is intended to be a prayer said in public, and for observant Jews to pray in public, a Minyan or prayer quorum of 10 is required. For the Orthodox, it's 10 men past the age of Bar Mitzvah, though the Reform and Reconstructionist, as well as some Conservative, count women as well. In the immediate period right after my father's death, as we sat “shiva" in my parents home, neighbors made certain that every night there was a minyan at my parents home for public prayer during our mourning for Pop. It was a kindness extended to the grieving family, much the way that endless trays of food appeared in the house, so that mom was not faced with the mundane responsibility of shopping or preparing things to eat.
The September after my father's death found me home, here in Northern California. I felt the need to stay Kaddish for my father and to light yahrzeit for him (and still do), but my spiritual community is Quaker, not Jewish. To go to a strange synagogue, in order to mourn my father simply did not feel right. I asked several members of my Meeting to come to my home, so I could say Kaddish in the company of my community of faith. I asked four or five; 14 came. I lit the yahrzeit, recited Kaddish, and then in best Jewish tradition, we sat down to eat.
The memory of that evening, of how I felt nurtured and cared for, made me determined to make it to Meeting this morning. The memory is bittersweet, much like the memory of someone cherished, now gone. This morning as I sat in Meeting for Worship, and looked around the room, five souls who sat and worshiped with me as I mourned my father, were there this morning. I thanked the Divine for their presence, as for all gifts. I need to be there in worship more often.
Did draft counseling during the Vietnam War era with AFSC, went to high school across the street from 15th St. Monthly Meeting, attended Meeting for Worship intermittently while a student in college, and ultimately joined Brooklyn Monthly Meeting during medical school. When I joined the Society of Friends it wasn't an issue of conversion, but rather the applying of the name to something I already was.
To worship in silence speaks to me. To meditate in the presence of a spiritual community who are doing the same thing (as they say in the old Quaker parlence), speaks to my condition. That said, I've had a really hard time getting to Meeting for Worship for a long time. I make time most days for some quiet meditation, often brief, though sometimes not, but I have not been able to get to Meeting for Worship for corporate spiritual meditation for many months. Something always seems to come up. Childbirth, call, traffic, phone calls, or just poor planning on my part. Frankly, the hour is part of this issue. Getting anywhere by 10 am on the one day I usually have free, is difficult for me. For the last month, I have arisen each first day with the intention of heading out to Meeting. This morning was the first time I actually succeeded in the last five attempts. As it was I still got pulled out of meeting twice by phone calls. I'm on call for the group this weekend. (deep sigh)
Oddly enough, what got me determined enough to make it to meeting this morning was a Jewish ritual I performed earlier this week; see post of 9-13. My father was born into and raised within an Orthodox Jewish family. I lit a yahrzeit or memorial candle, then recited Kaddish, last Thursday evening at sundown, alone in my office at the end of the day. As I sat at my desk afterwards, I remembered the gift my Meeting gave me on the first anniversary of my father's death.
Kaddish is intended to be a prayer said in public, and for observant Jews to pray in public, a Minyan or prayer quorum of 10 is required. For the Orthodox, it's 10 men past the age of Bar Mitzvah, though the Reform and Reconstructionist, as well as some Conservative, count women as well. In the immediate period right after my father's death, as we sat “shiva" in my parents home, neighbors made certain that every night there was a minyan at my parents home for public prayer during our mourning for Pop. It was a kindness extended to the grieving family, much the way that endless trays of food appeared in the house, so that mom was not faced with the mundane responsibility of shopping or preparing things to eat.
The September after my father's death found me home, here in Northern California. I felt the need to stay Kaddish for my father and to light yahrzeit for him (and still do), but my spiritual community is Quaker, not Jewish. To go to a strange synagogue, in order to mourn my father simply did not feel right. I asked several members of my Meeting to come to my home, so I could say Kaddish in the company of my community of faith. I asked four or five; 14 came. I lit the yahrzeit, recited Kaddish, and then in best Jewish tradition, we sat down to eat.
The memory of that evening, of how I felt nurtured and cared for, made me determined to make it to Meeting this morning. The memory is bittersweet, much like the memory of someone cherished, now gone. This morning as I sat in Meeting for Worship, and looked around the room, five souls who sat and worshiped with me as I mourned my father, were there this morning. I thanked the Divine for their presence, as for all gifts. I need to be there in worship more often.
