I visited Swarthmoor Hall for the first time on 17th March - an atmospherically wet and windy day - as part of a Quaker Life Representative Council gathering.
At times during the afternoon I couldn't help but feel I was more like a tourist than a Quaker pilgrim. This is a building, time thickened and memory deepened, that occupies a central place in the collective Quaker consciousness as the focal point of the emerging Quaker movement - the home of Margaret Fell and George Fox. I realised that prior to visiting Swarthmoor I looked upon the places and events of the Quaker past almost like they didn't actually happen – as if it were "imagined" that George Fox, following his vision on Pendle Hill, came to this remote part of Cumbria sharing his liberating Quaker message. But here, I was directly confronted with the material artifacts that rooted Quakerism in space and time such as:
George Fox's bedroom with it's "travelling bed" which was a gift from Quaker plantation owners in Barbados in the early 1670s
George Fox's wooden chest which
accompanied him in Worcester jail
the balcony where George Fox preached
his message to the assembled crowds
This awareness presented me with a mild tension. I sense that a large part of Quakerism is informed by timelessness, spontaneity and immediacy – that places and history aren't as important as the message to be shared. Quakerism is the practical embodiment of a lived faith that I feel calls us to bear radical witness to each other's truths and that we need to continually strive to find ways to affirm that the Light shines for all and none are turned away. Visiting Swarthmoor emphasised to me that as Friends we are part of the narrative of 350 years of Quaker tradition, but that we are in danger of relating to our Quaker heritage a bit like tourists too. We need to find inventive Quakerly ways of engaging with our narrative that doesn't compartmentalise the past or elevate aspects of it as a golden age. Also, I feel we need to be wary of our attempts to affirm (or even ‘prove’) our faithful contemporary Quaker identity by selectively appropriating parts of our heritage out of context - I'm thinking particularly here of my current personal confusion and struggles over the meaning of the much used Quaker phrase [answering] "that of God in everyone".
Whilst walking around Swarthmoor I did manage to catch a few glimpses of reflection – these were the in-between places:
uneven creaking staircases with oblique views of whitewashed
stone walls and funny little windows
the small latticed windows in Margaret Fell's bedroom
but in particular, Judge Fell's Study, which was tucked away next to the Great Hall. A few of us browsed around the study slowly and quietly, in an atmosphere which can only be described as feeling like the freezing in time of that short pause which occurs after someone has exhaled, prior to them taking a deep and sharp intake of breath. Retrospectively, I have come to appreciate the sense of reverence, humility and sanctity that the study exuded. And despite the fact that at the time I was a little cold and wet, having just been walking around garden in the rain taking photos, and I was a little uncomfortable because I hadn’t put my coat on right, that was life, and it was here that I most felt like a Quaker pilgrim.
In the corner was the chair in which John Woolman died, in York in 1772. This was a very ‘thin place’ – where the meaning behind these Quaker artifacts were unlocked – such objects became sacramental in their own way as they mediated the sacred to me – they made the closeness of God’s presence that little bit closer. John Woolman’s empty chair enabled me to make a connection back to my own life experiences of Quaker prayer and worship as when I sit in Meeting I often find myself pondering on the empty chairs in our circle. These empty chairs have at times become a focus for me during worship and have helped me I suppose to move beyond my personal introspections by being a way of connecting to things beyond my self. I think of people who could be sitting in the empty places – of Ffriends and family – of how I would feel if they were sitting there next to me. If I go to meeting on a Sunday I sometimes think of the global Quaker family – of Friends gathering together in other meetings. I occasionally place my hand, palm down, on the empty chair next to me, just for a couple of seconds. I don’t know why. I also think of the empty chairs as being there for Ffriends no longer with us. The chairs are there ready to welcome to the circle new Friends we are yet to meet and know, and where no-one is turned away. These empty chairs are reserved so the weary of body, mind and spirit can take a seat for the first time at our table, and be embraced, consoled and offered healing by the stillness. And also, I feel a gentle longing that all the chairs will be filled one day – that although the Religious Society of Friends is currently declining, and is predominantly old, white and middle-class, that other enquirers and spiritual seekers will become Quaker pilgrims too, and drawn to journey with us as Quaker disciples together.
The empty chair also pointed back to John Woolman the Quaker, especially, as this year is the 200th anniversary of the abolition of the slave trade, of his tireless and earnest work against slavery. It spoke to me of the need to strive to become selfless, to engage in the prayerful process of emptying ourselves and unlearning our preconceptions and notions, of exposing our vulnerability in order to make space for God’s Spirit to flood in. It called me to experience religion as a way of life, where belief becomes a relationship with the God’s Light and where we are challenged to live for others without any boundaries. The subsequent notions of ‘universalism’ or ‘christocentrism’ (which Friends appear to be quite preoccupied with) cannot be retrospectively detected in Woolman because they are simply dissolved through his comfortable embodiment of both:
“There is a principle which is pure, placed in the human mind, which in different places and ages hath different names; it is, however, pure and proceeds from God. It is deep and inward, confined to no forms of religion nor excluded from any where the heart stands in perfect sincerity. In whomsoever this takes root and grows, of what nation soever, they become brethren”
"If the Christian religion be considered, both respecting its doctrines and the happy influence which it has on the minds and manners of Christians, it is reasonable to think that the miraculous manifestation to the world is a kindness beyond expression."And by ensuring that he used ‘love as the first motion’ he gives us a sense of singularity and unity in Quakerism.
“My tongue was often so dry that I could not speak till I had moved it about and gathered some moisture, and as I lay still for a time, at length I felt divine power prepare my mouth that I could speak, and then said, 'I am crucified with Christ, nevertheless I live, yet not I, but Christ liveth in me. And the life I now live in the flesh, is by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave Himself for me.' Then the mystery was opened, and I perceived there was joy in heaven over a sinner who had repented, and that that language, John Woolman is dead, meant no more than the death of my own will.” John Woolman, 1772I realise that Swarthmoor Hall has helped to point me towards an answer on my journey to convincement. By feeling the weight of Quaker history upon me I hope that it will enable my Quaker identity and witness to be moulded by opening myself to the fruits of our collective past and by trying to allow that same fire that inspired early Friends to guide, teach and transform me today. The legacy of inanimate material artifacts from the Quaker past have served as spiritual prompts that re-animate my Quakerism. Through our Quaker heritage we are challenged with urgency to 'mind the Light' – we have the responsibility of simultaneously sharing something very precious and borrowing our Quakerism from future generations. As Quaker custodians, and myself as a Young Adult Friend, I feel this really quite acutely.
I think I would like to return to Swarthmoor in a couple of months, as part of a pilgrimage to Quaker Country …
"The place of prayer is a precious habitation … I saw this habitation to be safe, to be inwardly quiet, when there was great stirrings and commotions in the world" John Woolman
