Stephen
W. Angell, Leatherock Professor of Quaker StudiesThis was really an extraordinary experience, and I was glad that I as a new faculty member at Earlham School of Religion was able to take part in it. I think that this trip (for me, at least) accomplished all that it was advertised for, including team building with faculty and spouses whom I had barely met before (or, in the case of spouses, had not met.)
I teach Quaker Studies, and a significant portion of the formative aspects of Quakerism transpired in England. I had never been to England before. I found that simply a better acquaintance with the geography and the landscape (including the buildings that inhabit the landscape) would be indispensable in my teaching of Quakerism.
One concrete example were graveyards. Quaker meeting houses were instantly recognizable to one, who like myself, had been in numerous meeting houses in North America. The same could not be said of graveyards, which were entirely different from the Earlham cemetery or any other Quaker graveyard which I had seen in North America. Quaker graveyards in England were a stark and radical witness to the Quaker idea that holiness resides in persons, but not things (and not bodies of dead persons.) English Friends are not in the least hesitant about building on top of a graveyard. The graveyard where George Fox is buried is now a playground for neighborhood kids; the graveyard where John Woolman is buried is now the site of a senior citizens’ housing project. The relative lack of gravestones (with, at the same time, careful historical records of where each body was buried) showed a disinclination to mar the graceful, God-given landscape. At Ironbridge, I ascertained from the burial map that the Sequoyah tree that graced the graveyard was planted right atop the grave of Abiah Darby, the accomplished Quaker woman minister who had undoubtedly brought back the Sequoyah tree. At Briggflatts, we learned that fresh burials have only 100 years in their position, before their bones are nudged aside and a fresh burial placed in the same slot. In other words, Quaker graveyards in England are eloquent testimonials to the Quaker concept of sacramentality - only live things are holy, and the bodies of our dead brothers and sisters are to be returned to nature, and not reverenced as relics, not even (most of the time) with a gravestone on top of the burial site.
I have given some lectures about Quakerism since my return and undoubtedly will give many more, and each time my lectures have featured some aspect of my experience on this trip to England. My lecture at First Friends Church in Richmond, Indiana, included reflections on the geography of Firbank Fell (which I used to help delineate the nature of the Lamb’s War) as well as reflections on my experience of evensong at Westminster Abbey. I am sure that this wonderful two-week experience will continue to enliven my lectures and talks about Quakerism.
I could give reflections on lessons learned and insights gained at each of our numerous stops in this tour. I, like many others, was impressed by The Retreat in York, an early example of reform of the treatment of the mentally ill that is still a vital, ongoing institution today, more than two hundred years after it was founded by Quaker William Tuke. But I will simply reiterate at this point that the trip was a most valuable experience, and that I am exceptionally glad that I had the opportunity to join it.
Sue
Axtell, Director of Recruitment and AdmissionsThe Society of Friends - such a small group - was brought forth in an era when religious freedom was unknown. In following the light of Christ within, early Friends deemed death a price worth paying for the freedom to worship as led. From Bunhill Fields in London where the religious dissenters bones were thrown, to Firbank Fell, Pendle Hill, Swarthmore Hall and Lancaster Castle, the staff and faculty group from ESR followed the rise of the Religious Society of Friends on a tour led by John Punshon during the summer of 2001.
Preparation for study of this era began in Mancetter where we heard the story of Mrs. Lewis martyred for her rebellious faith. A young George Fox less than 30 miles away also heard her story while dutifully attending the church in Fenny Drayton with his family. His spiritual condition as a young man in search for God persevered until he experienced a private transformational meeting with Jesus Christ. After this pivotal moment, George preached an “unpopular” spiritual message that somehow found support with the Seekers, an already existing group ready for revelation and convinced many others. The Holy Spirit was invited to come to corporate worship led by Fox and others with the result that power fell on the small and large gathered Friends meetings for worship in 1650's England.
At Swarthmore Hall the human side of Fox surfaced. As he was founding the process of worship intent upon following the will of God, he fell in love with Margaret Fell, wife of the local judge in Shropshire. They married soon after Thomas Fell’s death. As we looked through Swarthmore manor, the logistics of Fox’s personal life emerged. The Fell’s practice had been to provide a warm welcome to traveling ministers. The strong influence George Fox had on the Fell family is understood knowing that George’s presence in their home was so regular that he had his own room.
From simple beginnings the small and peculiar congregation of Friends grew in England. Their achievements worked similarly to the leaven in bread. They suffered as outcasts for their peculiar beliefs and worship style, but became the most trusted of business merchants renown for their honesty, simple presentation and virtuous ways.
Our tour group proceeded to study and tour with interest three amazing accomplishments of members in the Society. Ironbridge, the first bridge in the world to use cast iron structurally, was smelted in the blast furnace on the River Severn. A product of Quaker ironmaster Abraham Darby III whose workers started it in 1777 and finished roughly two years later in 1779, the bridge aside from it’s beauty also improved the quality of commerce for the people living in the area of Coalbrookedale in Shropshire.
The second accomplishment we toured was a mental health center called The Retreat. Started in the late 1700's in response to the death in a local asylum of a depressed member of the Friends Meeting, the meeting found the “treatment” so woefully inadequate and actually detrimental that property and monies were donated to start a treatment facility based on Quaker core values.
M. Tuke, the first director, based the care given on the premises that the emotionally ill folks could have self-control and needed socialization, a balanced physical life (food, exercise), useful work, and an environment filled with beauty, nature, light, comfort and privacy. The first staff were live-in role modes. The wider Quaker community became involved in the center and after a person left “The Retreat” the Quaker community continued to intentionally interact with patients as “community” doing what is curently called “follow-up care” at a very early stage in the history of good mental health care. “The Retreat” continues as a private mental health facility today still basing care on Quaker values.
The third Quaker accomplishment we toured and studied was delicious! A trip to Cadbury World gave us the history of chocolatier George Cadbury and family. The history of chocolate in the world and the Cadbury family’s focus and monetary success with hot chocolate and later the technology to make chocolate bars was detailed in a historical video on site. It was stimulating to hear how Cadbury employees were provided at a very early point in history with adequate housing, schools, holidays and health care benefits. The factory moved outside of London taking the employees with them for more healthful living. We learned these facts amidst showers of candy bars which helped our interest immensely.
Again and again the “leaven” of Quaker faith, practice and values - as lived out by British Quakers - gave evidence for truth, light and abundant life. The impact of such a small group with a a wide impact on the lives of others was echoed throughout our tour and is apparent in history.
Phil
Baisley, Assistant Professor of Pastoral StudiesI must admit that even as I boarded the plane for England, I was reluctant to make the trip. With Kellyn’s wedding looming closer and multiple cars nearing 200,000 miles each, spending even a fraction of the total cost out of our own budget was guilt-inducing. Nevertheless, I got on that plane and the rest is now a part of my history.
The trip impacted my life in two significant ways. First, it gave me a new sense of pride/humility in being a Quaker.
I have often been amazed at how influential Quakers have been in the world relative to their number. The trip gave me a new feeling of wonder at how strong early Quakers were, and a sense of pride that I am somehow connected with those brave souls, creative minds, and steadfast hearts.
I was moved and humbled by the willingness of Friends to give up the seeming essentials of their culture, burials in hallowed ground, advancing in the social strata, this for the sake of their faith. The prison at Lancaster Castle was a sobering reminder to me of just how serious these Friends were about their religion. Even the Cadbury factory tour, although it reminded me more of Willy Wonka than of Milton Hershey, was a tribute to Friends who were willing to move against the traditions of the business world to create a new way of bringing dignity to employees.
I returned to the U.S. realizing that to be called a Quaker is to step into the shoes of those who went before. It is a high calling and not to be taken lightly. I hope I can live up to it.
The second way in which the England trip touched me concerned the surprising feelings I had about the spiritual health of some of the churches and meetings.
The first of these feelings came when we visited the churches at Mancetter and Fenny Drayton. My only knowledge of Mancetter was from that part of Fox’s journal where young George, in his spiritual despair, went to see the “ancient priest” who was there. This was the priest whose suggested cure including taking tobacco and singing psalms. I was never very impressed with that guy.
The current vicar at Mancetter is quite different from the ancient priest, and the building and spirit of the church are not at all what I imagined. The vicar fairly glows with the light of Christ, and the building evidences a spirit of vitality. Contemporary posters hang from some of the walls, and books, even humorous ones, are available to guide 21st century believers and seekers. Perhaps the most exciting part, to me, was the building itself. Although I cannot remember the exact quote, I recall the vicar telling us that the chancel area dated from the 12th or 13th century, the nave from the 16th century, and the educational wing from the 1990s. I thought, This church may be ancient, but its spirit is alive today.
On the other hand, the church at Fenny Drayton showed no such signs of life. This was the church the Fox family attended in George’s youth. He couldn’t find God there, and neither could I. It was a cold, dead place, as if God hadn’t been there in half a millennium.
Then there was St. Michael’s Cathedral at Coventry. By all rights it should have been a war memorial, but it wasn’t. Instead, the church is a peace tutorial. A short film tells its story to visitors. The film begins with a nose-gunner’s view of a devastating World War II bombing raid on a defenseless city. Watching, one could feel the anger as we assumed those “dirty krauts” were bombing the hell out of Coventry and its cathedral. Then we learned the description of the bombing was from allied reports of their raid on Dresden, Germany. “They” weren’t the enemy anymore, they were the victims.
Saint Michael’s rebuilt not in the spirit of revenge but in the spirit of forgiveness and reconciliation. It is a spirit that pervades the church today. This is a church that realizes its unique position as a witness for Christ. Regular worship opportunities remind tourists that the place is more than a museum. Scripture texts carved in stone make sure every visitor who can read English has a chance to receive the gospel. A holographic gallery confronts Christians with the social obligations of their faith. Although the volunteers at the cathedral may be bumblers, “those idiots of Coventry” as I believe John Punshon described them, the message of the church rings loud and clear, “This cathedral was burnt to the glory of God.”
I wish I had experienced the same feelings of spiritual vitality at the Quaker meetings we visited. I sensed it at Swarthmore Hall, where the warden tried to convey a current, rather than historical, spirituality. But, largely, I was disappointed by the meetings for worship. The silence was beautiful, and it seemed that two-thirds of the way through each worship hour a moving of the Spirit gripped me. I began to understand why Friends have persisted in unprogrammed worship for so long. Unfortunately, the silence was usually broken by meaningless verbalizations of personal revelation or by the singing of obligatory “Quaker” songs. It really wasn’t any different from a protracted Indiana Yearly Meeting open worship time when the silence is shattered by an announcement about Mary Sue Hinshaw’s graduation open house from 2:00 to 4:00 this afternoon—everyone’s invited. I wonder if George Fox and the Valiant Sixty would have been comfortable in that atmosphere.
Gail
Bingham, Secretary for AdmissionsI really had not thought about how I was going to feel being in England, seeing the Quaker sites that I've heard about. I came home feeling a depth of history that I had not expected! Reading over the itinerary before we went, I read place names that many times had no real meaning for me, until we arrived in England. To have John Punshon give us the "reason for being there" put things in perspective.
Names of places like Pendle Hill had only been a place in Pennsylvania to me. To have a chance to actually see Pendle Hill as a "hill", (actually, it did looked more like a small mountain!). I had many mixed feelings being in England when they were and are still being affected by Hoof and Mouth disease. I would have loved being able to climb the same hill that George Fox had climbed, but that was not to be.
I had no idea that the Meetinghouse shown in the picture in the hallway at ESR was actually Jordan Meetinghouse, where William Penn and others are interred. To have actually stood in that Meetinghouse, discussing the floor being made of brick placed on dirt, to come home and look closer at the picture and see those bricks! To look at the photos we took, and see our friends/Friends standing in front of the wood panel that partly covers the window, as it shows in the picture! I can't pass the picture without seeing us being there, knowing that I was in that meeting room!
To be in other small Meetinghouses that so closely resembled the very small Meetinghouse we visited last year in New Jersey gave me a feeling of being connected with the Quaker beginnings in England. To have been able to attend so many silent meetings throughout England, with everyone from ESR was something I won’t forget for a long while. With us all sitting together, I found myself contemplating the length of time our English Friends had been meeting. I had the feeling of being part of something so simple, so meaningful, but then again, so everyday for them, but for me it was still that depth of history!
To see the places that the Quaker dissenters were kept, and what they had to endure hits you much harder than just reading about things in a book. We only had to endure being locked in a dark cell for a few moments, knowing that we'd be let out and continue on. To think that those Quakers were never sure what would happen to them, or when they would be free again must have been hard. You could see that their belief sustained them during those dark times.
I had just been in Japan and visited Hiroshima and Nagasaki museums of the nuclear bombings. I was aware of how the Japanese felt about this kind of destruction not being permitted to happen again, to anyone, anywhere. This made being at Coventry Cathedral very moving to me. To see the remains of the bombed out Cathedral, with the words "Father, forgive," struck me, physically, very much. This gave me a connection between the two trips this summer that I did not expect to find. I think it made me feel that there truly is hope for the future.
We've told so many friends and family about the Cadbury Tour, but not just that it was about chocolate! I was very impressed that this Quaker business worked so hard to make things better for it's workers, more than other businesses of the time. Having been born in Philadelphia, the Quaker State, I was aware that people use the name Quaker to show that their product could be trusted (Quaker State Oil, Quaker Oats). It was very clear that it was the norm for so many Quaker business men.
There were so many other things we did in England that were fun! I really enjoyed the plays. To see "Noises Off" done by professionals like Venessa Redgrave was better than I had thought possible! Taking a boat ride down the Thames to Greenwich gave us a tour of the area and a nice boat ride at the same time. I've always been aware of time “starting” there, but had no idea what that was about until actually being there.
I really enjoyed traveling with everyone. To have been with the people that I work with every day, but in a new context, was a lot of fun! “If you can travel together for two weeks, mostly in a motor coach, and still want to be together” that’s community! We shared so many places, feelings, emotions that will always be there as we work together, I’m so glad I was able to go!
I must say that I really look forward to getting together with everyone from the trip to talk about our experiences. Since being back, I haven't had much time to think about, or talk with, or share much. Now that Orientation for first semester if over, I look forward to being about to sit down and look over our photos to finally really digest what I experienced. I do hope we have time to share our experience as a community of faculty and staff, with the rest of the community!
Nancy
Bowen, Associate Professor of Old TestamentI need to say up front that this trip was not, for me, a "transformative" experience. Although I had a good time, it wasn't life changing, or particularly spiritually nurturing. Maybe this is because I've already been to England too many times to count. Although I saw some new territory, international travel in general, and travel to England in particular, is not new to me. Maybe it's because I had already been in England for 2 weeks and was already tired of being a "tourist." Maybe it's because I'm not Quaker. Visiting Quaker sites doesn't hold the emotional or intellectual appeal of, say, Wesley's Chapel. And even Wesley's Chapel can't compete with the impact an Iron Age site has on me.
So, what did I gain from this trip? I really did have a good time. And I really did enjoy visiting all these Quaker sites. As a non-Quaker it was a great way to learn Quaker history. I think an advantage of such trips, much like a trip to the Holy Land, is that it really does make the history of a place something alive and living. It helps to see the places and to know how far it is from Fenny Drayton to Mancetter and from Pendle Hill to Firbank Fell and from Lancaster to Swarthmore Hall. You feel the impact of the dungeons and the cost of holding beliefs that can get you tossed into one. In a way that reading a book can't, the visit (especially to the 1652 territory) gave me a clearer sense of what these early Quakers were about, which also gives me a clearer sense of the Quakers I have been sojourning among these last 10 years.
I was fascinated with the "modern" Quaker sites we visited: The Retreat, Iron Bridge, Cadbury World. It was fascinating to see how these Quakers lived out their faith in very concrete, and often radical, ways. It made me wonder what the 2001 equivalent of that might look like.
I was struck by the need for a burial ground, maybe because it carries such biblical overtones. Way back when it was necessary that Abraham find a burial place for Sarah. It has made me wonder more about the significance of this need. (I haven't gotten any further in my thinking about this. It's just that it's a theme of a need for burial ground came up over and over again on the tour and a proper place for burial is also a theme that crops up over and over again in the OT. I think there's a connection here that might be significant, but I have no idea of what it might be.)
I was most impacted by Coventry. I was talking with someone at Warwick Meeting about this. I commented that I wished something like this could be built in the Middle East. Her response was, yes, but wouldn't it be great if we could learn about reconciliation without first having to bomb the crap out of each other. I've been pondering that as there has started to be some talk about what the build on the World Trade Center Towers site. I think something along the lines of Coventry would be powerful. I just wonder if we can build a monument to reconciliation without first bombing the crap out of someone. (But I digress.)
I enjoyed traveling with my colleagues. I was telling a friend of mine in Cambridge (who teaches NT at the University) about the trip. He and his wife both asked, "You're going on holiday with your colleagues??" They couldn't fathom why someone would want to do this. And frankly, knowing the dynamics among many of the seminary faculties in the US, I don't blame them for asking the question! I don't know of many other faculties who could have made such a trip together without it being a total nightmare. I am convinced that one of ESR's strengths is the fact that the faculty and staff "travels" well together. Yes, the fact that we travel well together on a trip means that the trip is much more pleasant. But in many ways, that physical reality is a metaphor for our lives together back in Richmond. We could say that we are on a "journey" together back in the real world of classes and meetings. And the fact that we "travel" well together I think makes the journey that much more pleasant. This doesn't mean that there aren't bumps and obstacles along the way. No trip is complete without at least one catastrophe! But instead of that completely derailing everything, it becomes something that we overcome together and tell stories about our success afterwards. (Needless to say, the catastrophe and the means of success become more unbelievable and fantastic with each retelling!) But that's probably enough on the metaphor. (Though I could probably ramble on about the importance of being able to play well with each other, too.)
It certainly wouldn't have been the same trip without John Punshon. It's hard to imagine doing this without him. I was touched by how touched he was to be able to do this with us. I think he felt honored by it. And it was a great retirement party.
Stephanie
Crumley-Effinger, Director of Field Education and Student ServicesWhen I think back on the trip to England, there are many different aspects of it that come quickly to mind. Among my favorite set of memories are those of riding at the front of the coach across the aisle from SuAnn as the two of us sought to avoid carsickness, and listening to John Punshon trade remarks with Terry our driver. I enjoy maps and was always following our route and paying attention to John and Terry’s discussions about which roads to take.
Another precious aspect of the trip was having time to sit with colleagues without tasks pressing upon us (unless one might consider choosing from three entrées or desserts pressing!) and talking about all sorts of things. I learned about people’s families, Christmas traditions, favorite books and movies, attitudes toward alcohol – all kinds of things we don’t tend to talk about in our busy days at work. We connected in enjoyable and meaningful ways. Walks of various kinds and adventures in smaller groups bonded us.
Moving back and forth from parish churches and cathedrals to Quaker meetinghouses is perhaps my most outstanding set of memories of the trip. I have been thinking about this more lately as I look ahead to our Believers church conference coming up in October. I have very mixed feelings about the cathedrals and parish churches we visited. The combination of exquisite crafting of beauty, elaborate religious symbols, and memorials to wars and wealthy people seemed very strange. Having been raised and lived my whole life in the United States with its emphasis on the separation of church and state, it was very odd to be in a country where the two have so close a relationship. This was true even though I have certainly read a great deal about England (and in traveling there I was surprised at what a sense of homecoming I had, the sense that this is truly the place of my literary and cultural heritage) and particularly with regard to Quaker history and the role of England’s established church. But it was something else to be in a place of worship that not only had tombstones underfoot, as well as fancy tombs for wealthy members of the parish around the sides, but also featured many memorials to different wars and military heroes. And at Westminster Abbey to hear that it is the worship place of Parliament seemed very strange. Such experiences gave me a far better sense of just how radical Friends were in mounting their challenges to the established church (and even to the less established groups that had broken off from it.) For example, it was very moving to have a tour of the incredible and immense York Minster, with its many forms of intricately wrought works of art, and then to reflect on George Fox having been there and spoken against the form of religion it represented.
I have for some time thought a great deal about the role of ritual in the lives of believers, and the contrast between the more formally liturgical churches and my own experience as a [programmed] Friend. Two of my favorite books, Father Melancholy’s Daughter and its sequel Evensong, feature Episcopal priests, and in contrast to their very detailed training about things like the form of bow to do at different points in the service, sometimes it seems as if we Friends ministers are such amateurs! In a similar way, I found the churches and cathedrals rather intimidating and off-putting. God seemed wrapped up in formality and expertise, and there were many distracting things everywhere one looked. In contrast, when we would enter a Quaker meetinghouse I felt drawn in and welcomed and invited into worship rather than the spectatorhood I felt in the cathedrals/churches. At the same time, I am aware that for many people it is deeply meaningful to experience ritual and the sense of being held and ministered-to by tradition and the expertise of others. I suspect that when one is in a low place spiritually, ritual can often carry one until it gets better. With the Quaker emphasis on experience, when one’s experience is impoverished for a period of time [as is bound to happen in the spiritual journey] there may be less available to carry one until it improves.
I have just finished reading a book about a Lutheran minister’s early years as a pastor. He tells of one of his first hospital visits, when he was meeting for the first time a couple in a rather desperate situation. He was searching for what to do, and very naturally began to say part of the liturgy – “Lift up your hearts” and they responded “We lift them up to the Lord.” This was the entry into meaningful ministry with them – he had something to offer that no social worker or doctor had to bring to bear on the situation. At a situation that was almost beyond words, he had words so familiar that they came almost unbidden, and brought solace and formed an opening to relationship.
So, back to the England trip – it is valuable to have been challenged to think more deeply about the roles and meanings of the established churches and the believers churches as epitomized by the Anglicans and the Quakers. I am grateful to have traveled to places that enable me to be stand more inside the experience of early Friends than I have been able to be previously through reading or lectures. For years I have heard of and pictured George Fox walking about the countryside, but it is a great gift actually to see the places he walked. I have loved reading accounts of Margaret Fell and Swarthmore, but it was deeply moving to be there in her home, in the place where so much of the Quaker movement was born and nurtured. I just have to trust that it truly is different from Elvis fans going to Graceland!
As one who was adopted into the Quaker family, having grown up in another tradition, I have appreciated Friends’ welcome and the room to become a meaningful part of the world of Quakerism. By traveling to experience Quakerism’s birthplace, I feel even more deeply drawn in to my adopted family. To have the opportunity to do this with colleagues was blessing. I believe that this will continue to bear fruit for many years to come in ways we cannot even now imagine, and am grateful for the opportunity to have gone.
Jay
Marshall, DeanSeveral years ago, my wife Judi and I made a commitment to international travel. We love the thrill of exploring new territory. Traveling abroad exposes us to new and wonderful cultures in this grand world of ours. Without doubt, our lives have been enriched by these experiences. Perhaps that is one reason the value of such an experience for our newly constituted faculty and staff was so obvious to me.
I visited England two years ago when, as a newly appointed dean, I accompanied John Punshon on one of the Earlham tours we offer regularly to alumni/ae and friends of the school. So this particular trip to England lacked the excitement of going to a land not previously visited. In many ways, however, this particular trip was extremely more important to ESR than any trip we will ever sponsor for our friends and alumni/ae. For me, this trip was about seeing England again, but more importantly, it was about building quality relationships with our faculty and staff.
The beauty of the English countryside is breathtaking. Local households take pride in spectacular flower gardens whose colors brighten even the grayest of days. City streets in London, while always busy, beg to be explored. These initial impressions created a mood of eager optimism that prevailed even on those days when several hours were spent traveling by motorcoach.
There is a certain mystique at old meetinghouses like Jordans and Brigg Flatts, or the cemetery at Bun Hill. They enjoy a rich place in history that none can deny. The courage and conviction of those who practiced their faith there in those seminal years prepared the way for people like us. Worship in those places was an enriching experience. But history has its limitations. As rich as those sites were, other locations seem to play a more vital role in the Quaker present moment. The Retreat, for instance, continues to be a place where genuine ministry is offered in the treatment of the mentally ill. Swarthmoor Hall has found a breath of energy and enthusiasm propelling it to engage real social and political issues present in the local community.
A few non-Quaker events were also memorable. At Coventry Cathedral a hushed awe ripples through the crowds who enter its doors. They city of York with its monumental walls, and the London Tower were deeply impressive as well. And, I can’t remember a time when I laughed as hard as I did at the London Theater while watching “Noises Off!”
As moving as those visits were, I’ll especially treasure some of the moments experienced with our faculty and staff at unusual places. We stopped atop the city wall surrounding York and broke into a harmonious rendition of “Happy Birthday” in honor of a newly appointed faculty secretary. We embarrassed nearly everyone except ourselves with our laughter in the dining room of a four star hotel restaurant. We teamed up during the “off days” of the tour and branched out to explore uncharted places–some took a boat to Greenwich, others took a train to Oxford, still others took the “tube” around London as though they were natives of the area. We adopted our coach driver as one of us, something that rarely occurs on tours like this, inviting him to join us for meals and after dinner conversations.
Throughout these days, hour by hour, mile by mile, I witnessed faculty and staff rotating amongst themselves. With intentionality, they invested time in the practice of getting acquainted beyond the surface formalities that dominate so many relationships. I saw defenses mechanisms set aside, personalities relax, and a casual comfort emerge within the group. Most of all, I saw the birth of comradery and the emergence of a newly formed collegial spirit. In that moment, I saw yet another reason for hope for the future of Earlham School of Religion.
Nancy
Michaels, Director of Development and Alumni/ae RelationsScene One: The room was possibly 12 feet wide by 10 feet long, cold and damp, a perfect incubator for pneumonia. There were 10 of us crammed into it. I could stand upright but some of the taller people couldn’t. The only place to sit was a bench at the end of the room or upon the dirt floor. We entered and the door was bolted behind us. That sound of the bolt being shot would have been the sound of despair, had I not known I was soon to be released.
I spent perhaps a minute of my life in the dungeon of the Lancaster Castle and was more than ready to be freed. George Fox spent four years in this dungeon, as well as shorter terms. There was no plumbing. The stench must have been unbearable. The long incarceration broke his health and sent him to an early grave, the grave we visited at the Bunhill Preparative Meeting in London. Surrounded by the sounds of the modern metropolis of London is the preternatural quiet of Bunhill Fields where Fox and many of early Friends are buried.
Reading about the imprisonment of early Friends created an image of a zealous group of seekers, supported by their meetings for sufferings, and had a romantic ring to it until I stepped into that cell. Experiencing it made me know there was nothing romantic about what those early Friends endured. Their suffering is no longer theoretical. It is real.
How did Fox and the others sustain themselves? I can only surmise that their faith must have been so real to them that they were able to surrender themselves to the situation in which they found themselves, sure that whether they lived or died, they were ultimately safe in the arms of a loving God. As Joyce Lewis, one of the Quaker martyrs of Mancetter, who was hanged for her refusal to recant her Quaker beliers, said, “I do not need to be under the protection of the King. I am under the protection of Almighty God.”
We are living in a country and a time when Quakers can practice our faith openly. We are free to voice our disagreement with the actions of our government, which are not consonant with our understanding of the way God wants to world to be. Yet, would we—would I—be willing to give up freedom or life as did our forebears? I now understand that when William Penn founded Pennsylvania as a haven in which all could practice their faith openly, it was not out of some philosophical persuasion but was grounded in his experience of the persecution of early Friends.
Scene Two: Pendle Hill is a misnomer. It should be called Pendle Mount. Not only did Fox make it to the top of Pendle Hill, he walked a very long way to get there. Even today the distances by bus are formidable. It is impossible for me to imagine what it must have been like for Fox to walk the length and breadth of the 1652 country. I was footsore and exhausted after two days of walking around London.
Although we were unable to walk to the top of Pendle Hill due to the Foot and Mouth quarantine, just looking up at it reminded me of the verse of scripture, “I lift up my eyes unto the hills, from which cometh my strength.” Moses had Sinai. George Fox had Pendle Hill. The men who came down from the heights were not the same men who went up. They were changed forever, just as all who have an encounter with the Living God are changed. I pray for that kind of continuing revelation in my life. But am I willing to pay the price they did?
Scene Three: There is a large bronze sculpture on the side of the entrance to the Coventry Cathedral. It is of an angel ready to slay a horned Beelzebub, cowering at his feet. Yet the message of the Cathedral is of forgiveness of one’s enemies. How is it that the sculpture is so at odds with what the members of the Coventry Cathedral and the builders of the new Cathedral understood, that we must truly learn to love our enemies. Perhaps it is a cautionary tale, of how we may become an angel of death unless we forgive those who harm us.
The new cathedral is a masterpiece of architecture and art. Its immensity dwarfs the skeleton of its predecessor, the bombed out remains of the Blitz, its “altar” adorned only with a charred cross made of fallen timbers. Yet the old structure, in all its broken glory, was, to me, more of a Holy place than the new. How wise not to raze the remnants of the old Cathedral. If we had any doubts about the legacy of war, we should look to those ruins.
Being with colleagues for two weeks was a superb way to get to know one another in a more informal setting. There was much laughter and camaraderie bread of our common experience. Yet under all the fun was a depth of experiential learning that I will never forget. My most profound wish would be that each ESR student could have a similar experience. Reading about our roots and experiencing them are as different as having a sunset described and actually seeing one. I thank all who made this experience possible.
Brenda
Reish, Business ManagerWhen I first heard there was a possibility about the Earlham School of Religion faculty and staff going to England, I thought it would be exciting. When I thought about it later, I didn’t know if I would be included. As a joint employee who works for both seminaries and is paid by Bethany, I don’t expect to receive the same benefits ESR employees do. When I received the invitation to participate from ESR’s Dean, Jay Marshall, I was really pleased to be included.
Then the struggle began: should I go or stay home. I really hated to pass up such a wonderful opportunity, but there were some practical things to consider. The Bethany audit was two weeks after the trip was over; my husband would be leading an intense10 day seminar at the very same time the group was to be in England, and we have a three-year-old daughter. After much encouragement and planning from my husband, I agreed to go. It wasn’t until I was home for a while that I was certain I had made the right decision. My husband and daughter survived, realizing how much they missed me; I had a wonderful time, even while missing my family, and the Bethany audit went smoothly.
I had lived in England for four months in 1982 but my memory of how beautiful it is had faded. It was so nice to be reminded of the rich history of a country much older than the United States. Although I am not a Friend, I appreciated learning more about the history of Friends. The first place we went with historical significance for Quakers, Bunhill Fields Burial Ground, had a profound impact on me. Here I learned the manner of burial of early Friends. Across the street, the dissenter’s burial grounds showed the number of people who, for religious reasons, were treated differently.
The other stop we made that had a profound impact on me was the tour of Lancaster Castle. Here we saw some of the places dissenters were held and tortured. We entered the dungeon where many people were kept without light, room to lie down or restroom facilities. It made me realize what early Christians went through for their faith. Their struggles have allowed us the freedom of religion we have today. I wonder if my faith is strong enough to endure such torture. I hope it is never tested in such a way.
I was really impressed with The Retreat in York, a facility for individuals with mental illness. Their use of progressive and affirming healing methods seemed wonderful and something for other institutions to aspire to. The Retreat, Cadbury World and Ironbridge, were spots where we came to understand the impact early Friends had on their communities. They made a name for themselves as progressive and fair employers. Something to be proud of, if Quakers allow pride.
If I were to return to England, I would really like to go back to York. The history and architecture were fascinating. It is a place I wish to explore further. There wasn’t enough time to be a true tourist there, even though we were around for a few days the time we spent in York was not enough for me.
As I have been among Friends for three years, I have learned to appreciate the unprogrammed style of worship. Early on, you would have heard me wondering how anyone could worship and connect without talking to each other. I have more of an appreciation of the history and worship style now that I have lived and worked among Friends and learned some of the history of the Society of Friends. I am comfortable in unprogrammed worship and appreciated that we had several opportunities to worship together on the trip. It was nice to worship in places of such rich history and significance for Friends.
One of the amazing things about the trip is that we got along well together. I tried to make sure I sat with different people each meal so that I would have the opportunity to get to know everyone in the group a little better. For an introvert this isn’t always easy but I was comfortable and felt included.
I wish to express my sincere thanks to all who were involved in making the trip possible. I believe it was a grand success and we will have many shared memories to bring us joy for years to come.
Bill
Ratliff, Professor of Pastoral Care and CounselingReflecting on our time in England takes me back to a trip to Israel in 1983. Looking across at the city of Jerusalem from the Mount of Olives, tears filled my eyes as the thought ran through my mind that I had come home—to my spiritual home. The city did indeed shine like gold, as the Bible talks about. This happened eighteen years ago, at the end of a tour of the Holy Land. The trip to the 1652 country in England felt like a discovery of my second spiritual home. To see where George Fox was born and began his ministry, such as Pendle Hill and Firbank Fel; to stand in the dungeon at Lancaster Castle, where early Quakers were imprisoned; to see the grave of William Penn at Jordans and worship in the Meetinghouse there where the Quaker painting of “Christ in the Midst” was painted; and to hear John Punshon’s wonderful commentary on these places and many others—all served to introduce me visually and experientially to my roots as a Quaker. My favorite Meetinghouse was Brigflatts, full of good spirits and elegant age, including a pen by the door for the dogs.
My response to The Retreat at York surprised me. The humane treatment of persons who are emotionally ill began there in 1794 and continues to this day. The buildings and grounds themselves give a sense of serenity and graciousness. I hope that students in my courses in pastoral care and counseling and who are interested in chaplaincy might have some connection with The Retreat.
To go on this tour with faculty and staff, old and new, provided a special treat. And to have John Punshon lead us on this tour in his home country at the end of his service on our faculty added to the special quality of our time together. I am impressed and moved by the generosity of those who contributed to make possible this trip, and am grateful to Jay for pursuing this possibility and finding persons willing to support such a venture. As a faculty, I think we felt well cared for, we bonded in a variety of ways and we had fun—all of which will show in our teaching and in the morale of our community.
Seminary education is as much about formation of the inner person as it is about information and skill training. We received a great deal of information on this tour, but deeper was the formation in our own tradition. Worship and active participation in our Quaker Meetings provides the basic formation, but this first-hand knowledge now of where our Quakerism began and developed will continue to deepen and shape who we are as Quakers and as teachers. Our task as theological educators involves taking this 350 year-old tradition and attempting to convey it with freshness and relevance for our day. Thanks to this experience, we have been given an important boost in that task, as a result of visiting our spiritual home. In teaching pastoral care and counseling, I can now speak of Quaker care that was occurring before the era of era of modern psychology.
How about the next trip being to Jerusalem?
Joanna
Schofield, Director of Academic ServicesAs I was driving along through the winding roads of southern Indiana in September, I came around a bend and saw a lone church steeple on the horizon. It felt so familiar and yet it was familiar because of the time we spent in England. I remembered the feeling of seeing a landscape of rolling hills with towns marked by tall “spires.” I imagined George Fox and his companions traveling on foot from town to town looking for the spire to guide them to their destination.
I think often the walking would have been a time for contemplation, for drinking in the serenity that nature provides, for prayer. But there were also dangers and forced marches and beatings. Thinking of the intolerance and brutality of Fox’s time caused me to remember Lancaster Castle.
The Castle is still used as a courthouse and prison to this day. Parts of it are open for tourists to see. We were taken into the courtroom, which was restored with bright colors and many Coats of Arms on the walls. The Coats of Arms were of politically prominent families in Lancashire. It was not as grand as the cathedrals we visited, but was terribly ostentatious by Quaker standards. I tried to imagine Fox, Margaret Fell and other Friends who were tried in this very room. What was their reaction? Did they even notice the room or were they focused on the people and the danger they faced?
Next we went down into the cell areas where many people, including friends, were held for years. It was stone and dark. I couldn’t go into the cell, but most of the others did. Our guide said that 20-30 people would have been kept in there. There would have been rats, little sanitation and only sparse food. Unless someone cared enough to bring you clothing, blankets, food and other supplies you would simply go without. So my friends went into the cell and the guide closed the door on them. She opened the small grate above the door to let a small amount of light filter in. After only a few seconds she let them out. I let my breath out and realized I had been holding it. I left Lancaster Castle deeply saddened by the cruelty of humanity and the fact that we are desensitized to it. The Tower of London also affected me in this way.
We went to Morecombe Bay and walked on the wet sand out to the water. The sun and wind blew away some of the gloom that hung on after facing cells and implements of torture. I was thankful for the sun, wind, water, sand and time to be silent and absorb it. After this day I was less able to experience places and history on a feeling level. I did understand how Firbank Fell and Pendle Hill would be places of spiritual movement.
The Meetinghouse and grounds at Brigflatts was a place where I found the present meeting the past. It was built in 1675 and was built to stand attacks and to last. It has lasted and is continuing to this day. That makes West Elkton’s 196 years seem very short. The people were joining together with other churches each week for prayer vigils and to support the farmers who’s livestock are decimated by Hoof and Mouth disease. It was here that we heard the most from the Warden about present day concerns along with the history of the Meeting. Part of the history and architecture of the Meeting is a small flag stoned area by the door where the “canine friends” worshipped. I had a sense of the deep goodness of the people who were active in their community and knew their God loved dogs and livestock too. Our worship time in that meeting was particularly sweet with God’s presence for me. The focus here was on God & relationship rather than on the greatness of our history.
I will stop here even though our trip covered so many places. I do want to say that the camaraderie that was grown among us is really great. I am glad to have had the opportunity to take this journey with this group of folks.
Debra
Secttor, Assistant to the DeanAs the discussion began about a tour of England, I thought it sounded like a wonderful idea. With all the new hires it would be a great opportunity to really get to know people. What a tremendous opportunity. I prayed the group would have a great time. Never in my wildest dreams did I think I would be a part of it. The dates chosen overlapped our annual family vacation to the beach in North Carolina. We look forward to it each year, pay for it a year in advance, and I knew my sisters would never forgive me for missing a year. As Stu and I were talking one evening about our summer I said something about my hopes for the ESR gang going to England. He asked what I was talking about since I was going! I had assumed I wasn't going to England and he had assumed that I was! As the conversation continued, we agreed we would work to make my going on the trip a reality and he would attend our family vacation (with my family!) without me. Then I started to get excited. I had never been abroad or owned a passport. All of it seemed a bit surreal and exotic.
The dreams started then. First I dreamed no one wanted to room with me on the trip. In the dream Jay stood up on the bus and told the group, "we are not going to have this - everyone will take a night rooming with Debra." After sharing that dream, Nancy Michaels felt sufficiently sorry for me and asked to be my roommate. What great adventures we had - talk about bonding. Oh, what memories we now share. Many will probably never be shared with others. They are our special times meant for special friends. The second dream involved the climbing of Pendle Hill. In that dream everyone else had climbed to the top and I kept falling down. I started again and again. In the dream I never did make it to the top and woke crying. Unfortunately, due to hoof and mouth disease none of us got to climb Pendle Hill on this trip. By the way, it’s a mountain - not a hill.
What a joy to see and hear about Quaker history with John Punshon. It was a great gift to share his home with him while saying good-bye after he shared our home for the ten years they lived in the US and the eight years I've worked with him at ESR. Making Quaker pictures, places, and stories come alive before my eyes - what can I say? I will never be the same.
Many of my joys are simple ones. After finding the first foreign coin on the airport floor and the excitement of finding a new coin each day. And figuring out that my traveling companions had begun throwing coins down for me to find since I got so excited. Oddly enough, dealing with my directional dysfunction was the start of another joy. When I looked up at St. Paul's Cathedral on our first full day of touring and did not see anyone that I knew made me realize I did not have a clue which door we had entered. Then I realized that I did not know on what street our coach was picking us up. Then I started to really panic. What a feeling of relief as I spotted Phil standing outside the gift shop waiting for me so I wouldn't get lost. As the story spread I was never left alone again. Everyone made sure I was with someone so I would find my way back. I felt very loved.
The comradery of spending that much time with the same group of people was amazing to me. It was fun to share long coach rides, meals, tours, worship, days off, and cards with each other. I love to laugh. Playing cards in the evening after dinner in the hotel lobby or bar provided lots of opportunities to laugh.
Jay thank you for your vision and hard work to make this trip come together. It was better than I could ever imagine.
Tim
Seid, Associate Dean of Distributed LearningThe theme of my trip to England with the other faculty of Earlham School of Religion in July 2001 began to show itself even on the flight over. God has seen fit to give me a body that does not fit anyone else’s expectations. The small, narrow seat confined me to a tight space. Fortunately, my wife, Suann, was able to travel with me and, after switching places with another passenger, she served as a buffer between me and any unwitting traveler who might have sat next to me. The move, however, separated us from the others in our group and put us in the middle of a Southern Baptist youth group and directly behind a girl – I have no doubt – was a cheerleader and a gymnast.
Having worked a number of years for a photocopy center, I was familiar with the British paper size called A4. I was not aware that this slightly more narrow and slightly longer size than American letter-size was typical of British life. This was most notable in England’s bathtubs: Compared to American tubs, they were narrower, longer, and also slightly more elevated. You can imagine the difficulties this poses for wide and/ short Americans: The one discovers his bath is a tight fit and the other finds that her feet no longer reach the end of the tub.
While we are on the topic of bathrooms, there is one other feature of British bathroom fixtures that is different. Most of the hotel room sinks had a faucet for cold and a faucet for hot water. When I washed my hands, I turned both on and then alternated between the two in order to maintain a comfortable temperature. One of our group asked a Brit about this custom. He responded, “How do you have it?” It was explained that in the States we have a single faucet in the middle. He thought about this for a moment and then said, “But don’t you bump your head on it.” It became obvious that the British fill the sink with the cold and hot and then bend down to wash their face. This may also explain why many British hotels do not provide washcloths (or “face cloths,” as they call them).
Most everywhere you look in England an American (at least one from the States) will notice objects smaller and narrower. The cars are generally smaller and the streets are definitely narrower. I can understand why such ancient cities and villages now have streets too narrow for modern vehicles, but I don’t know why roads out in the country are still so narrow that two British mini-cars are not able to pass each other without pulling off to the side. And one road, which was bordered on either side with tall shrubbery, was so narrow that the coach we were traveling in seemed to brush the shrubs on both sides.
Where this smallness held the most significance was in our visits to churches in “Fox country.” I always imagined, when reading Fox’s Journal, that Fox was entering large cathedrals and preaching to huge audiences. I was surprised to see just how small these churches were. Fenny Drayton was such a small, quaint village. Other than the obelisk, which marks Fox’s birthplace and the name Quaker on a few signs, one would not know that this individual had such an impact on modern society. Mancetter Parish Church, where the priest told the young George to smoke and sing to be happy, was also not a very large structure. Even the Cartmel Priory Church, where Fox encountered opposition to his preaching, was small compared to St. Paul’s Cathedral or York Minster. Nevertheless, from these humble beginnings through small, narrow streets, the message of Fox spread like branches from a mustard-seed planted in English soil, a transplant from another small country with small villages some 1600 years before.
Steve
Spyker, Director of Information TechnologyWhat sticks in my mind most about the England trip was our visit to Coventry Cathederal. I don’t suppose it would have made all that much of an impression on me if not for all the other sites we’d visited leading up to that day. We had been to several meetinghouses around England, some of great historical significance and some of more contemporary relevance. (I almost said “small meeting houses,” but compared to grand cathedrals like Coventry all Quaker meetinghouses are small.) We’d also seen a number of monstrous towering cathedrals. Most of these are very old by American standards, quite impressive and extremely beautiful, and we taken a detailed tour Saint Paul’s Cathedral in London, one of the largest, most beautiful, and historically significant.
At St Paul’s I remember being quite impressed with the immensity of structure, the elegance of the architecture, the ornate detail of the artwork, and the tremendous outpouring of human effort and skill that went into constructing such a testimony to religious life. But I also remember a certain revulsion to all the seeming excess, and I harbored a secret feeling of superiority for my allegiance to Quaker simplicity. Surely God is not impressed by these piles of stones we call houses of God, and such grandiose public displays of presumed piety are more evidence of material pride than devotion to Christ or the principle he taught.
The outward difference between St. Paul’s and Coventry is the modernity of the building, Coventry having been constructed in the post-war period following the destruction of the original cathedral by the Nazi Luftwaffe. It was clear to me the architects endeavored to create a cathedral as grand as any ever built, but to actually create something that spoke of the contemporary, rather than to recreate a throwback to an earlier era. In my opinion they succeeded completely. I wandered the capacious chambers in total awe. I was even led to kneel and pray at one point, something that almost never happens to me in a Quaker meetinghouse. (Though I’m often led to pray I seldom kneel, even though I believe that to be the appropriate posture when addressing one’s creator, sort of reminds you which one of you is God.) I prayed for Friends, and I asked forgiveness for my foolish pride in my supposed Quaker simplicity.
In the architecture and artwork at Coventry I sensed a powerful relevance of the divine; I saw evidence of God working in peoples lives here and now in all sorts of ways. Generally I’m contemptuous of “civil religion.” Outward displays of piety for public consumption are blasphemous in my opinion. At best they are sort of like tipping your hat to God. God deserves more than a tip of the hat. Our relationship with God is deep and personal, not something we put on display for the benefit of others, or something we wear on our sleeve or stick on the bumper of our car so others will know what good people we are. Yet at Coventry I stood convicted of the importance of a religion that makes a difference in people’s lives, that lives in the community and in society in a meaningful way, and that can inspire society to build a marvelous gargantuan structure to stand as a testament to that relationship and as a place where we can gather to celebrate it.
I’m wrong to think that my religion is something that I possess, as if it were a lamp I can take into my bedchamber after I draw the shades. My religion is something I share with millions of others, and my relationship with God is bound by my relationship with billions of other human beings. Quakers will probably never build a meetinghouse like Coventry Cathedral, nor do I mean to imply they should, but I do pray that we can have a religion that speaks as loudly to society as Coventry Cathedral spoke to me.
Lonnie
Valentine, Associate Professor of Peace and Justice StudiesFirst, I am very appreciative to all those who made this trip possible! It turned out to be more than I expected, and my expectations were high.
First, I expected to get materials and photos to supplement my course on "Quakers in Conflict" that addresses the development of the Friends Peace Testimony. This happened, but something more important, if intangible, also happened. I started to feel Quakerism in my bones. I surprised myself with upsurges of denominational pride! (We're not supposed to be prideful, right?)This came as I stood where Friends made contributions generally to the life of church and society as well as the particular exploration of issues of peace and justice. John Punshon helped make this happen in the way he has internalized Quaker hsitory. He does not just describe the history, he is radiating it in the present moment. Also, it was wonderful to have other (F)friends present to experience this in communion with one another.
This brings up the second unexpected aspect of the trip. Though I was expecting to get to know others on faculty and staff better, I was not expecting the sense of gatheredness that happened often. It was vitally important that we did worship together and joined with other Friends at Meetings in England. This reminded me of the spiritual reality beneath our being together for this trip, and these moments added the foundation for our time together. For me, it re-emphasized the crucial need for community worship.
On a more personal note, I much entered into the performance of Shakespeare's "Twelfth Night." As an old English major, it was amazing to see the level of skill in the production, to say nothing of having the chance to delight in Shakespeare. Shakespeare had a way of presenting the tragic in the comedic which can both make the comedy that much more engaging as well making life's tragedies that much more bearable. Taken as a love comedy, Twelfth Night shows us love's success, and we have a good time in the bargain. However, as the "Fool" sings "What is love? 'Tis not hereafter, Present mirth hath present laughter, What's to come is still unsure. In delay there lies no plenty, Then come and kiss me, sweet and twenty, Youth's a stuff will not endure." So, as the true lovers find one another, there remains the tinge of love's passing. I could not help but see much of contemporary religion (yes, including Quakerism of all varieties) in the figure of Malvolio. He presents the "puritian" way of denying both love and its transitoriness. His angry exit at the end of the play--"I'll be revenged on the whole pack of you"--is the threat to love and the fear of love's passing clothed in religious garb. May we rather be fool's for Christ for the sake of love!
