Embracing Silence, Stillness, and Simplicity in the Society of Friends
You can find sanctuary beyond the world of noise.
Beyond the world of religious dogma, there is a place to find true quiet within. You won’t find posts on social media. You won’t see advertisements on YouTube. You don’t even see any evidence of it on the news.
That’s because this place is magnetic, not dynamic. It’s the yin, not the yang. They don’t seek more numbers, more business, or more exposure, because “more” is the way of the ego.
Instead, it’s about deep. It’s about stillness. It’s about quality, not quantity.
Now, this stillness isn’t stagnation. No, there’s an edge to it, recognizing that edge, that slight bit of unease, is part of the evolution and growth. Indeed, some things need to die before others give birth. Those tiny deaths aren’t wasted but instead used as compost for the new life.
This place is about a deeper breath that nourishes. Shallowed, hurried breaths are most appropriate during an active life, but they don’t serve to deepen when you’re still.
And we need some stillness. We need deepening.
I can’t explain the method because each method is unique to you. My life is different from yours, so what’s locked within me is also different. You find your unique path to unlock the door when Christ comes knocking.
Then you surrender. You take the deepest breath you’ve ever taken and sigh it out. You feel a bit of release. Then you feel how stuck you actually are. With each breath, you feel that constriction wanting to hold onto the past, hold onto those rules, hold onto the “shoulds,” hold onto that familiar fear. You open up a single millimeter and feel that edge. It’s a little uncomfortable. It’s a little fearful because it’s incredibly unfamiliar. Yet you trust. You surrender. Then breathe out.
You feel your entire body come alive. Your hands tingle. It’s an inner “ahhh.” You feel so incredible that you want to experience it again, but you realize that’s your ego trying to cling to the sensory experience. It’s not the same.
So you wait in the stillness. You allow the pause to happen. You know there’s something deeper going on within you—a sense of healing and restoration. So you give it some space.
When you return to your active life, the life of hurried breath, you want to center your life around these moments of stillness. You begin to shed habits and thoughts that don’t serve the stillness.
Again, it’s not about rules or dogma, but it’s a sense of service to the inner stillness. You begin to simplify. You see where time is wasted in your life and you say “no” to it. It’s the yoga practice of saucha, cleanliness. It’s bramacharya, or practices that help you walk alongside God. It requires tapas, some inner fire of discipline to burn away the ways of the ego.
You know what’s best for you when you sit long enough in stillness. You begin to connect to the Divine within you, and you want to do what’s necessary to clean up the channels of communication. You begin walking a little lighter. You notice new creations all around you.
You begin to simplify.
For the longest time, I’ve been drawn to the contemplative path. I love the quiet. I love the stillness. I love the inner inquiry. From the Desert Fathers and Mothers to Thomas Merton, I’ve savored their values of silence, stillness, and simplicity.
I’ve found a few communities that savor these three values, and believe me, they’re hard to find among the excessive noise in modern society. Silence, stillness, and simplicity don’t sell on Shark Tank. You can’t go to a billionaire investor and say, “I want to develop a community that nurtures the values of silence, stillness, and simplicity.” They’re looking for profit, and these communities are about shedding the need for more.
This past Sunday, I found a community that has existed for hundreds of years. I’ve heard about them, and the stereotype is prevalent but very contrary to reality. I guess that stereotype is why this community remained hidden from me and so many others. This community isn’t searching for new believers. It remains in silence, stillness, and simplicity, and it draws searchers like me.
This is the Quaker community, also known as the Society of Friends. If you’ve lived in Philadelphia, you are aware of their presence. William Penn, whose statue pees on Philadelphia when it’s raining, was a Quaker. I often drove on Meetinghouse Road in my old neighborhood. Across the country, you’ll see many Friends schools.
Yet when you hear the term, “Quaker,” what comes to mind? Sure, the guy on the Quaker Oats cereal with the wide-brimmed hat and long, gray hair. Or you might think of a plain-looking woman wearing modest clothing with her bonnet-covered head dipped low.
Did you think of Lucretia Mott? James Dean? How about Judi Dench?
What sets the Quakers apart from other Christian denominations is the lack of structure in the Gathered Meeting. A bell doesn’t ring when the service begins. You walk into a simple room with old wooden benches and take a comfortable seat. Some people’s eyes are closed, others are knitting. There are blankets strewn on some of the benches in case there’s a cold draft.
You sit in silence with your fellow brethren. The only sound is the occasional shifting of the sitting postures of others. Maybe you’ll notice the heat turning on or off. It can probably be downright uncomfortable for those who need structure. It can be torture for people who cannot sit in silence.
Quakers believe that you don’t need someone in authority to experience the Divine Teacher within you. This might seem radical for other Christian denominations that have a certain hierarchy and rituals to experience God. No, in the Gathered Meeting, it’s you, God, and the community of your fellow brethren.
You realize how uncomplicated a life of faith really is—silence, simplicity, and service.
The Gathered Meeting ends with a little more structure. The person who’s assigned offers her hand to the person next to her. Yes, the Quaker Meeting ends by shaking hands. I’ve missed that part of the Catholic Mass when COVID caused everyone to be fearful of others’ germs.
You can’t think yourself closer to God any more than you can think yourself closer to the ones you love.
I know that Contemplative Outreach and the Center for Action and Contemplation are trying to renew the contemplative practices that are part of the Christian heritage. I know they’ve received a ton of blowback from the liturgists and others addicted to the “right” way to worship. George Fox also received this criticism and was deemed a heretic. Yet there are other heretics here on Substack who are trying to wake people up to experience a loving God, not a punishing God.
George Fox wasn’t trying to start a new sect of Christianity. He was trying to revive spirituality in religious services. He wanted people to experience God with every breath, feeling God’s loving, guiding hand as they moved about their day. He knew God couldn’t be experienced in the head but in the heart. You can’t think yourself closer to God any more than you can think yourself closer to the ones you love.
Instead, it’s a matter of spending some quality time with God every day. More and more, you feel your old self breaking apart so that you can experience the Divine Light within. Because really, that’s what’s in the way—your worldly self.
I’m not abandoning my Catholic heritage just yet, but I hope that my work and the work of humble others can help people experience God personally without excessive words, rituals, and dogma that sometimes get in the way. I know that those practices have been life-saving for some, and there are dry and fearful times when words, rituals, and dogma have given me the structure I needed.
But I know the world is breaking apart because they are looking for the Inner Teacher in the material world and get caught in ideologies, attachments, and compulsions that keep them perpetually sick.
This Inner Teacher is in everyone, including the most contemptible of men. We are all God’s creatures, every single creation, every atom. We all have a role to play in the vast ecosystem. It’s just a matter of connecting with this Inner Teacher to see what’s the most beneficial response at this moment.
Can you take some time for yourself to begin to pry open the rigid shell of the ego? It can be frightful as you risk being vulnerable. But it’s then you feel God consuming you, energizing you, inspiring your thoughts and words.
Then let God work through you.