Contents
Articles
- Godless Quakers – for God’s Sake, David Boulton
- Deification in the Orthodox Tradition, John Hondros
- The Young Christian Workers’ Movement, Michael Morton
- Psalm 119, David Lee
- The Context of Survival, Dominic Kirkham
- Kit Widdows offers a Thanksgiving for Chris and Malcolm, Kit Widdows
Reviews
- Francis McDonagh reviews Gays and the Future of Anglicanism, Francis McDonagh
- False Promise, Dominic Kirkham
- New Scientist, Cicely Herbert
- Myra Schneider reviews Coastal, Myra Schneider
Poetry
- Welcome Hymn: Bring to this House, Gilo
- Advent, Dinah Livingstone
Regulars and Occasionals
- Letters Editor's Introduction, Ken Smith


Editorial
David Boulton points out that ‘the flip side of Quaker emphasis on silent worship is that it can serve to conceal sharp theological differences’, with which Friends may shock each other when they come out into the open. This emphasis on silent worship at meetings can be seen as a non-destructive aspect of the Puritan instinct to distrust ‘show’, which also found expression in Cromwell’s devastation of many beautiful churches and abolition of Christmas day. Quakers, who once fought bravely in the New Model Army against the King claiming a ‘divine right’, have since become well known and respected for their activism in the Peace Movement and other social causes. They aspire, Boulton says, to ‘a way of living rather than a set of beliefs’: Their emphasis on deeds follows the gospel: ‘whatever you did to one of the least of these my brothers and sisters, you did to me...’ (Mt 25:40), said in the context of feeding the hungry, healing the sick and visiting those in prison. In these deeds it is taken for granted that the body is important. Such ‘doing God’ – theopraxis, to use a jargon word – seems more holistic than their theology – ‘saying God’ – the silent worship that consists of thinking and shutting down as much else of the body as possible, not even talking, let alone singing, lighting candles, dressing up, ringing bells, swinging censers releasing swoony smells, as many religions do...
Descartes published his Discourse on Method in 1637, with its famous statement: ‘I think, therefore I am.’ The English Revolution, from which the Quakers emerged, happened in the two ensuing decades. Perhaps Paris was a long way from England but the Quakers in their worship seem to share the assumption that thinking is ‘purer’ when it is less bodily. I have often wondered editorial Steering Committee Votes for Message from the Committee The front page has a new look! Following a close vote at the 2005 AGM to change the magazine title, the Steering Committee considered a new proposal on December 10th 2005 and voted nem. con. in favour. This decision supports the Editor’s aim to widen readership and distribution of an already well-regarded publication, which we are sure you will continue to enjoy.
Sea of Faith Steering Committee about Descartes’ famous phrase, because in some halfwaking states I feel more like saying ‘I think therefore I am I think...’, whereas if I actually do something that has a physical effect, such as have a shower and get dressed, make a pot of tea, I see some result. The point is that I don’t just think when I am sitting in silence, but also when I am with people, talking, doing things, walking along (some things are ‘solved by walking’) etc. Physical activity affects my thinking.
Boulton’s article describes how non-theistic Quakers may experience God as ‘the imagined embodiment of wholly human values’. Embodiment is the crucial word which they have steadfastly tried to realise in their theopraxis, their social activism, but perhaps have fought shy of in their theology, their worship-tradition of silent private thinking, which has foregone, among other things, a rich sacramental tradition – the eucharistic hoc est corpus mocked as ‘hocus pocus’ – in its search for ‘purity’.1 For what is embodiment? Asacramental theology symbolises it, and the fading of the supernatural makes us all the more aware that both our theopraxis and our theology come down to acting and thinking for and about ourselves, bodily, social, fellow human beings belonging to Earth, where the sun rises in the morning to bring us our common day.
In the next article John Hondros looks at deification – becoming God – in the Orthodox tradition and considers what this might mean in non-supernatural terms. For the Orthodox Church deification means the transformation of the individual and the whole community ‘to view the world and people from a divine perspective.’ If we think of God as an ideal, then this means the realisation of this ideal both in the individual and the social body (the body politic).
Hondros points out that, even for the theistic Orthodox, deification is not ‘a post-mortem promise of immortality but an existential possibility here and now’ and moral behaviour comes ‘naturally to a person when they are deified.’ He looks at the nonsupernatural effects of ritual, how it changes both individual and communal awareness. This ritual enactment of deification must then, of course, be followed through by deeds in daily life. The awareness creates a vision and enlarges the sense of possibility for the individual and community, but then this must become incarnate in action and a social fabric. It invites people to behave well and create a good society but does not guarantee success or, for example, safeguard them (any more than other christians) from manipulation by unscrupulous politicians.
Turning to the workaday world of capital and labour, Pope Leo XIII published his encyclical Rerum Novarum in 1891. In 1887 in England, the socialist William Morris had been one of the leaders of the notorious Bloody Sunday demonstration in Trafalgar Square, described in his novel (where it initiates the ‘change beyond the change’) News from Nowhere, published in 1891. The Pope was deeply suspicious of socialism but nevertheless criticised ‘the hardheartedness of employers and the greed of unchecked competition’. Michael Morton looks at the history of the Young Christian Workers’ Movement that was inspired by the Encyclical.
As you will see from the box on page 3, SoF Steering Committee has now decided that the magazine should be called sofia, which means ‘wisdom’. It must be stressed that the magazine in no way claims to dispense wisdom or aspires to the pretensions of a magazine such as The Plain Truth. As the continuity of our logo shows, it remains a hundred percent the magazine of the Sea of Faith Network, which explores religion as a human creation. The world’s many religions, which SoF believes were created by the human poetic genius or imagination, seek to express, in many different ways, humanity’s treasury of wisdom, both philosophical and practical. sofia will continue to explore the many christian traditions (this issue points up some sharp contrasts between Quakers and Orthodox) and other religions in a positive but critical way, pursuing a search for wisdom that asks not only what should we think but what should we do, not just as individuals but as a species.
As the poet Coleridge put it, transforming christian myth into a humanist epic: ‘Man is truly altered by the co-existence of other men, his faculties cannot be developed in himself alone and only himself. Therefore the human race, not by a bold metaphor but in sublime reality approach to and might become one body, whose head is Christ (the Logos).’ On the inside back cover of this issue, your Editor does a non-supernatural ‘take’ on some of the Advent liturgical texts, in which Christ is invoked as Wisdom and begged to come. Yes, we do need to act wisely. Yes, we do urgently need wisdom to come to our world endangered by virulent fundamentalisms. Naturally. 1 However, the Quakers did have their symbols and special language, often involving an attractive cussedness, such as their refusal to do ‘hat honour’ and their dogged use of the familiar ‘thou’ even to their social superiors, which, George Fox said in his journal, put him and his followers ‘in danger many times of our lives, and often beaten for using those words to some proud men.’ (Quoted in David Crystal, The Stories of English, (Penguin, London 2004), p. 310.
David Hatton 31 The Granary, Clare, SUDBURY, Suffolk COI0 8LL Although I am no longer a member of Sea of Faith, I have continued to read the magazine with great interest and usually a lot of satisfaction. Since parting company with the Church several years ago I have periodically felt the absence of any ritual that could be enjoyed without the overtones of theology and dogmatism so often experienced in traditional ceremonies. Four years ago I created a non-religious funeral for my mother (with her previous consent), and this was very well received by many of the people present. My limited experience of Humanist or other non-theological ceremonies has been quite helpful, and I have been hoping that Sea of Faith would be able to promote or engender similar rituals.
— David Hatton, Clare, Sudbury, Suffolk
Whilst I appreciate that many members of the Network are still either regular church attenders, or wish to function within a context of Christian language if not belief, I was nevertheless disappointed to read (in the November edition of sof) the liturgy Love’s Domain: A Eucharist by Peter Lumsden. I commend him for his effort but setting aside the obviously awkward continued use of the practice of addressing ‘the Lord’ directly, I was extremely uneasy about such phrases as ‘the ability to overcome evil’; ‘the chaos, evil and futility in our lives’; and ‘the evil that we and our way of life inflict on the whole world’. Such language strikes me as almost Calvinist in its gloom and negativity. It is true that traditionalists, continue to think of evil, as a positive force not far removed from the historic teachings about Satan and the devil. But I would have thought that we were striving to get away from such ideas, however much we may be able to explain them amongst ourselves as metaphoric or symbolic.
I similarly felt truly uncomfortable with ‘fleshpots of certainty’; ‘the wasteland of moral relativism’; ‘we foreshadow the Messianic banquet’. Such language is almost incomprehensible to all but the most highly educated and seems more likely to alienate rather than include. Whilst recognising that the whole theme of the issue of the magazine was based on the theology of Kenosis, I cannot understand how using the word allows us to ‘see what we must do’. And the next few sentences seem more like a sermon than a liturgical celebration: ‘The global capitalism we have created and which we benefit from, must surrender its power to the poor... We must cease consuming many times our fair share of the world’s resources.’ Oh, Please!!! This is not a Eucharist. It is a political statement.
Finally in the last paragraph of Dr Knight’s all too dense article on Kenosis and the work of Gianni Vattimo, he quotes with approval Vattimo’s suggestion that ‘We cannot NOT call ourselves Christians ... our only chance of human survival rests in the Christian commandment of charity.’ Why??
There is nothing wrong with ‘charity’ (translated as ‘love’ would have been better), but why do we need to identify charity, or whatever is by association good, with Christianity alone?
— Nicholas Smith