An Easter Message For Liberal Quakers

An “Easter” Message  – 4th Month (April) 9, 2023

 I’ve been to Easter morning worship at a good many Friends meetings, mostly liberal & unprogrammed. And the most visible special character noted at many on the occasion was someone, usually female, in an adult-sized cartoon rabbit costume. It brings to mind a cartoon I turned up this past week:

It is not, of course, that liberal Quakers worship rabbits or poultry. The focus on floppy ears and colored eggs serves as a familiar, welcome distraction and deflection. It’s all-but guaranteed to avoid the framing of the occasion by the vast majority of Christian groups. Because in these Quaker meetings, that framing is believed in even less than that of a bountiful egg-laying bunny.

 Let’s recall the difference, in sum: Those who traveled more than a few miles to meeting today probably passed one or more signs or banners proclaiming “He Is Risen!”

Like such banners, Easter marks the climactic moment in a drama that began, in the traditional reading, shortly after God’s creation of a human couple. They at first subsisted in blissful divine-human communion in Eden, until something went terribly, fatefully wrong:

The couple defied a divinely-announced taboo. As a result, they were expelled from Eden, condemned to labor, bear children in painful travail, and then die.

As the tradition developed, the errant first couple, following their deaths, were to be plunged into a bottomless pit of fiery torment, which they would endure as conscious torture, forever, and ever. 

This prospect of endless torment in hell was soon expanded to include as many as all humans ever born (or to be born); or just most, with a select few (numbers were fuzzy) exempted for various reasons, or (in some major theologies) no reason at all.

All this was justified by saying the first couple’s downfall was not simply an infraction, but a sin, evil – and the stain of this sin marked all their children, through all generations, magnified by the children’s own sinful contributions. These millennia of total human  depravity added up to a kind of debt load no human could ever repay, even in theory.

But God eventually (in 33 A.D.) decided to offer (an uncertain number of) exemptions. To produce the exemptions, God would transfer the debt to their own (sinless, ergo innocent) divine offspring, who would pay for it by being killed. Lynched, in the standard script.

But as mercy, God would revive the offspring after not quite 48 hours following  his demise.

This ominously vivid scenario captured wide attention. It also soon began to evoke questions, and skepticism. The questioning even seeped into the sacred pages of the Bible. 

There were doubts about the mechanics: How does it work to transfer responsibility for evil from the evildoer to an innocent? (Like, if I murdered someone and was found out, how could I fix it so, knowing my guilt, the authorities would select some innocent person to punish, maybe execute, and let me go free? 

Put another way, how does punishing an innocent absolve the guilty?

There were also doubts about this kind of “justice”: the “sin” of the First Couple, however precedent-setting, was still finite, even petty; and for pete’s sake, it was their first offense.  Yet the punishment, for them and their spawn, was infinite in scope, everlasting, and endless.

I mean, if I were burned at the stake, even with the newest AI technology, they could only burn me once, til my bones were vaporized. In current crematoria, the process only takes a couple of hours.

But in the scriptural hell, and its tributaries, the fire and torment are infinite punishment. As in Revelation 14:9-11 (one of numerous similar passages): “If anyone worships the beast and its image and receives a mark on his forehead or on his hand, 10 he . . . will be tormented with fire and sulfur in the presence of the holy angels and in the presence of the Lamb. 11 And the smoke of their torment goes up forever and ever, and they have no rest, day or night . . . .

Such revenge fantasies did not mollify the doubters, primarily because it was far out of whack with their life experience.

The scriptural efforts to square such assymetric suffering, which makes the tortures of the Inquisition seem tame, with “divine justice,” can be profound (e.g., the Book of Job), but are unsuccessful (ibid.). As one of the best biblical writers to make the effort admitted, in Ecclesiastes 8 & 9:

8:11: Why do people commit crimes so readily? Because crime is not punished quickly enough. 12 A sinner may commit a hundred crimes and still live.

Oh yes, I know what they say: “If you obey God, everything will be all right, 13 but it will not go well for the wicked. Their life is like a shadow and they will die young, because they do not obey God.”

14 But this is nonsense. Look at what happens in the world: sometimes the righteous get the punishment of the wicked, and the wicked get the reward of the righteous. I say it is useless. . . .

9:16 Whenever I tried to become wise and learn what goes on in the world, I realized that you could stay awake night and day 17 and never be able to understand what God is doing. However hard you try, you will never find out. The wise may claim to know, but they don’t.”

Some say this is cynical, others merely realistic. I oscillate.

Whichever; but if after-death salvation schemes are “useless,” in explaining how they embody or vindicate scriptural divine justice, what then to make of Jesus?

I have an extra-scriptural elder and teacher here, in the form of Lucretia Mott; she clerks my inner clearness committee on the topic. In 1849, she declared plainly to her home meeting in Philadelphia that:

“This creed based upon the assumption of human depravity and completed by a vicarious atonement–connected with a belief in mysteries and miracles as essential to salvation–-forms a substitute for that faith which works by love and which purifies the heart, leading us into communion with God and teaching us to live in the cultivation of benevolence, to visit the widow and the fatherless in their affliction and to entertain charitable feelings one unto another.”

For her, Jesus is a model and a teacher. His key teachings begin in Luke 4, with his first public appearance after spending six weeks in the desert wilderness:

16 Then Jesus went to Nazareth, where he had been brought up, and on the Sabbath he went as usual to the synagogue. He stood up to read the Scriptures 17 and was handed the book of the prophet Isaiah. He unrolled the scroll and found the place where it is written,

18 “The Spirit of the Lord is upon me,
because he has chosen me to bring good news to the poor.
He has sent me to proclaim liberty to the captives
and recovery of sight to the blind,
to set free the oppressed
19     and announce that the time has come
when the Lord will save his people.”

20 Jesus rolled up the scroll, gave it back to the attendant, and sat down. All the people in the synagogue had their eyes fixed on him, 21 as he said to them, “This passage of scripture has come true today, as you heard it being read.”

(How did the crowd respond? They tried to kill him.)

Then there is the Sermon on the Mount (Matthew 5-7) and the Last Judgment of the “sheep & goats” set out in Matthew 25: 31-48. Each of these is worth extended study, but my thumbnail is that: what matters most there is what you do, particularly leavened with justice, mercy & compassion, more than what you believe, or the religious rituals you repeat.

Mott also revered his example: rejecting both the exploitive empire, the co-opted and corrupt religious establishment, and the self-and community-destructive rebel terrorism; then facing his senseless fate with resolve and resignation.

But what about resurrection? What about the related issue of Jesus as the “messiah”, the widely-expected liberator of the Jews from Roman oppression??

Mott didn’t buy either of these notions as actual history. But the rise of the church — at least the good parts of it (among which she frankly preferred the Religious Society of Friends, but collaborated with many others), and the leading figures in them –those were the resurrections she believed in.

And these lasting figures in it – like John Woolman, William Penn, Margaret Fell, what Catholics would call “saints” but Mott wouldn’t (superstitious “priestcraft”, she considered such titles), could bring liberation, in fits and starts, to their people and others. She called them “the Messiahs of every age”; not just one person, one group, or in one era.

Now Mott might not agree with my next thought, but this view reminds me of the Catholic doctrine of the Mystical Body of Christ. It’s one of the few beliefs from my Catholic upbringing that’s stuck to me: Rather than him climbing out of the grave, Jesus’ spirit has come back repeatedly in and among the church (and other religious bodies) again, in its good parts, and not only in his biblical name. The official Catholic version says this Mystical Body is only manifest in the Roman Catholic Church.

I don’t buy that: it can show up — or be resurrected — in many places & groups; it can also be crucified again too.

Early Quakers thought much like that as well, tho they were also mostly anti-Catholic & anti-pope, and for awhile figured Quakers were the real one & only true church. (When William Penn published his summary of Quakerism, his title was, perhaps hyperbolically,  Primitive Christianity Revived. Eventually, some Friends got over that particularist triumphalism. Some.)

In this Mystical body view, whether seen as a potentially profound metaphor or even a theological belief, Jesus can become a kind of archetype, that is, the embodiment of a story (not necessarily historical) that can come alive for people and groups. Such archetypal stories can then die and be resurrected.

From this perspective, perhaps the tomb on that ancient Sunday morning was really vacant.

Vacant, yes, but not empty: it left behind a story that continued, renewed itself (more than once) and for many, isn’t finished yet.

Ponder all that for awhile. I’m going to talk with Lucretia about it, while I go crack a decorated egg or two. And maybe eat an apple.

6 thoughts on “An Easter Message For Liberal Quakers”

  1. This is great, Chuck. Say hello to Lucretia for me. She won’t remember me. Here’s why. I only recently fell in love with Lucretia, thanks to Margaret Hope Bacon’s wonderful tale of her life in Valiant Friend. My father in law (their grandfather) gave each of our daughters a copy of the book one Christmas. Daughter Susan read it and appreciated it and took it to share with my mother, her grandmother. To her shock, and mine, my mother wanted nothing to do with that book. I realized that Lucretia had been a Hicksite, and much opposed to my mother’s Orthodox family, including her grandfathers Jonathan Evans Sr and Jr who were high up elders in Philadelphia as was her father, my grandfather. My mother and father did come to work hard in the fifties to unite Philadelphia Quakers and end the Hicksite Orthodox separation – All the meetings I ever attended had two substantial meeting houses right next to each other. And Lucretia was, I think, a co-founder of Swarthmore College, my alma mater and the Hicksite counterpart to Haverford. When I considered going to Swarthmore my grandmother said, “Nanna dear (the name I went by then) if thee goes to Swarthmore it will be good for all of us.” (Every man in my family on both sides, including my three brothers is a Haverford graduate.) And one more little piece of recent history, thanks to work by one of my sisters we have just learned that Great Great Grandfather Jonathan Evans was a slave owner. I believe he manumitted them with no designated date of freedom. Not sure if there’s a record when when that happened.
    And then your stories of Easter in Quaker meetings . My only memory of that is that as a child, after attending an unremarkable weekly meeting – no particular references to Easter at all – as we drove home through town I was envious of all the people coming out of churches in all their pretty clothes. And your relation of various historical and biblical traditions of Easter are things I’ve never had a very clear picture of. Still don’t but I may go back and read what you’ve written and try to make sense of it. I feel like being Quaker spared me from some terrible fears many church going children must grow up with. I never understood what the sins were supposed to be that Jesus was supposed to be saving us from.
    Enjoy your visit with Lucretia. Her successor in the women’s sufferage movement, Alice Paul, now has a new dormitory at Swarthmore named for her. Alice Paul is a graduate of Swarthmore as well as a graduate of my high school alma mater Moorestown Friends School. And neither of these heroic women nor any of their stories were taught to us students at those schools.
    So much for growing up Quaker! Stories as free of the whole truth as most of history. Thanks for getting me going. A refreshing change from today’s current events.

    1. Hi Anne,

      Always good to hear from thee, and I hope thee’s written or recorded some or many of these memories and their extended family conrext for future historians!(Seriously.)

      I can’t recall now when I became so attached to Lucretia. It could have started at Cambridge Meeting (CM) in the early 1970s, when I went looking for picture books to read to my two toddler daughters. CM had a big shelf of such books, and in them I found the Obadiah Books by Brinton Turkle. (Surely thee read them to thy daughters??) They introduced me to Nantucket (which I wasn’t sure was even a real place, or invented like Narnia), and I made a few visits to it to be sure it existed, Soon I was imagining Lucretia as a precocious child there.
      Later she turned up again as I explored the uncharted origins of the parts of Liberal Quakerism which did not fit into the work of Rufus Jones. Rufus was, after all, an Orthodox and Haverfordian, and important as he was, there were lots of other parts of modern Quakerdom which were formed beyond his horizons, in far distant lands such as . . . Swarthmore. And almost all the main Quaker histories have been done by Orthodox-oriented scholars, who somehow neglected and downplayed the other branches, while the Hicksites didn’t much care for history at all (except perhaps family history).

      Plus, one of Lucretia’s few faults was a phobia against writing (except letters), so she didn’t keep a journal, or do articles/essays, memoirs or an autobiography, and thus assisted in her own neglect by later authors. (A neglect, to be sure, which would not have bothered her; but bothers me mucho.)
      Much later than Cambridge, after retiring, I soent three terms at Pendle Hill in concentrated research/writing on the origins of modern Liberal Quakerism (there was still no existing history), and it often felt like I was able to travel back in time and hover over a long-running drama in which she was a crucial figure.
      There are three pieces from that time online, which as a sister Lucretia-phile may interest you:

      1. Lucretia at Indiana Yearly Meeting in 1847, when hostile elders told her to go home (after days of arduous coach travel); she defied them, and then. . . .
      https://quakertheology.org/excerpts-from-james-lucretia-mott-life-letters/

      2. While Lucretia never wrote down her messages in meeting (sometimes preaching for near an hour), others often did, sending stenographers in. There are two books of these talks; I have not read them all, but think I understand her main points. If they had been published in her lifetime, I believe she would have been more recognized as a thinker/theologian (tho few male theologians thought that possible). But I put my summary of her thought in an essay here:
      Lucretia as theologian:
      https://quakertheology.org/lucretia-mott-radical-quaker-theologian/

      3. On a lighter note, I have written numerous stories for younger readers, including eleven “Quaker ghost stories” (not Stephen King scary, but a touch eerie). The ideas come to me from who knows where; and in one she shows up in modern-day San Francisco, just in the nick of time . . . .
      Lucy in the Sky — No Diamonds

      https://wp.me/p5FGIu-3z

      Enjoy!

      Chuck

  2. I don’t believe literally in the many novels, short stories, epics, and poems I’ve taught, but l learn more about the spirit working through humanity and moral and ethical choices and the results. The same with the resurrection and results: Grace, redemption, resurrection. . .I skipped meeting this morning, because I was afraid it would be too secular. The Easter story deserves better than that.

    1. Nancy,

      I feel you. Did you ever read “The Trouble With God,” by British Friend David Boulton? He’s a non-theist (after a British evangelical upbringing), and his journey parallels much of what you said: he still does not “believe,” but finds “God” an inescapable “main character” in history and literature. He said this so well that when he and I had a public debate at FGC, my thesis was that he was really a closet theist, and I had plenty of his own quotes on my side. Great fun!

  3. I usually avoid Meeting on Easter. Even some Hicksites get too rapped up in resurrection stuff. Iris Dementia says it all for me – I just think I’ll let the mystery be. And focus on love here and now.

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