hing else that might possibly be construed as an intermediary. They do not give authority to the Bible but use it instead for guidance and inspiration.
To investigate British Quakers I decided to visit the Seven Oaks Meeting House. It was once a large thriving meeting but now is down to the last determined dozen or so members. I arrived to a warm, if not somewhat surprised, welcome. The meeting room itself was nice enough and the doors of the room opened onto a beautiful garden.
They explained to me that I could sit anywhere and that the chairs in a Quaker service are usually arranged in a circle, underlining their commitment to egalitarianism.
There seemed to be an awful lot of women in attendance, which single men should take note of.
Before we began, they asked me, very nicely I might add, not to take notes during the meeting. I was a bit taken aback. No notes? They thought it might disturb the silence. I huffed and puffed a bit. My mind is like a sieve so I rely on my notes.
But as it was, not that much happened. They refer to the meetings as “a space of gathered stillness.” Actually, they sit in collective silence – for an hour.
As a child, a Quaker friend of mine, a Friend friend if you will, attended meetings with his grandmother. He said that each time they entered the meeting room she would direct him to “Go in and greet the light.” The “light” is a metaphor to Quakers for one’s relationship with God.
So I sat in silence and looked for the light. For an hour.
There are many forms of silence. There is the popular “silent treatment,” prized by angry couples worldwide, the spiritual “vow of silence,” the evocative “moment of silence,” Simon and Garfunklel’s famous “Sound of Silence,” a parent’s desperate plea for “a little bit of silence, please!” and the cruel silence of censorship. My mind was wandering.
I looked around the room and noticed that everyone, save the man with special orthopedic shoes, was wearing sandals. That says something about a religion, I thought. I was not sure what, exactly. And I wa