Sunday 13 April 2014

When angels speak.

Those who have read my blog for a while will know that I am about as old-fashioned as you can get as a Quaker. As if by instinct, there is still a seventeenth century trait of resistance to programmed worship, wishing to argue with "hireling-priests", and refusing to cough up on tithes should anybody ask. This morning however, knowing that I would be working later, I got up uncharacteristically early for a Sunday morning and went to the local "steeple-house" for their 8 am communion.

It was lovely to be greeted at the door by some friendly natives of the Anglican Church who did not seem at all concerned when I introduced myself as a Quaker. It seemed I should consider myself a guest and just as it would be quite inappropriate for visitors to re-decorate somebody else's home, I decided to respect differing opinions and do my utmost to fit in. An honest search for truth should stand up to scrutiny. For me, the friendly and respectful engagement I have enjoyed with other faiths over the years has strengthened my sense of commitment and identity as a Quaker.

Increasingly, I find myself able to appreciate the beauty of an old English Church. This may seem a strange thing to say, but I think these are intended to be used by seekers after truth regardless of where they had got to. We all have a right to be there. Although some people find religious symbols and images a distraction, to me these are a reminder of how nothing in life is static. People adapt to different environments, generations of local people have given their time and their talents to enhance these surroundings, building up layers of knowledge to the best of their ability. Together we have all mellowed, blended in, becoming beautiful over time through love in the same way as our buildings.
 
In the silence before the service began, some angels in a church window managed to attract my attention. They seemed quite amenable to some interfaith dialogue, so I introduced myself as one of those awkward Quakers who was doing her best to be the right sort of guest. It seemed only fair to warn them however that just like the Old Testament prophet Jacob, we have a tendency to wrestle rather than just listen to angels.

Angels are never quite as they seem. These ones had bright red or green wings which resulted in a very vibrant effect but must have made them feel a little self- conscious in heaven amongst the exclusive radiant white of others. Perhaps they understood how uncomfortable it can feel when you do not feel comfortable with the words everyone else is saying in the creed, that emphasis on belief, not everything said seems relevant to your condition and you do not quite fit in.

During this conversation, I couldn't help noticing how, like many Victorian stained glass windows, the faces of these angels all tended to look the same. Perhaps the artists responsible for this work had only one available model. Since it would have been necessary to keep re-arranging her in various poses, she must surely have been someone of considerable stamina and patience. Perhaps a very bored uncomfortable angel with stiff creaky joints was just longing to thump the artist by the time this window was complete!

At this point I noticed that each angel was carrying a different musical instrument. Since it might be assumed they were making an acceptable noise in heaven, I began to feel slightly guilty having just purchased a metronome to address some of my musical deficiencies  and been terrified of it ever sense. It seemed I have been letting my music teacher down whilst all these angels were saying, "Look what we can do, because we have excellent time-management skills, do not run away from a problem and know how important it is to practice." I promised to try harder so as not to disappoint them.

As the service was about to start, I thought again about the angels identical faces, wondering perhaps if our egos slipped away, it might be easier to be one. Early morning Spring sunshine shone through angels to colour the floor with light. It seemed to me that it was possible to be in a considerable number of other worshipping environments besides a Quaker Meeting to hear the ministry of Friends.





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