A few weeks ago, at our Meeting for Worship for Business, my Quaker meeting was asked to help our Yearly Meeting with the wording of a minute about same-gender marriage.
Now, we Quakers tend to be bleeding-heart liberals, so I was surprised to find that there has been opposition to this within Yearly Meeting. All they are attempting to do is affirm any marriages performed in the care of Monthly Meetings, which is entirely appropriate. Despite appearances to the contrary, Quaker hierarchy is somewhat upside-down. In most religious organizations, authorities at the higher levels of the hierarchy dictate to the churches what the doctrine will be, a la Catholicism's Pope. In the Society of Friends, Yearly Meeting is just an organizational construct designed to help the Monthly Meetings communicate. Monthly Meetings, the ones with all those historic meetinghouses that dot the Southeastern Pennsylvania landscape, hold the most authority when it comes to what happens with Quaker decisions.
Now, my Monthly Meeting minuted our support of same-gender marriage ten years ago with a strongly-worded statement of the sanctity of marriage and the equality of everyone regardless of sexual orientation. Indeed, equality is one of the testimonies, the central tenets of Quakerism as I understand it. Our minute predates my involvement in Quaker meeting, but I embrace it wholeheartedly.
The Yearly Meeting minute is less emphatic (in my opinion) in its support of our LGBT members and attenders, and it has been a source of controversy. I was surprised to see that some people present at the Yearly Meeting last summer when this was discussed stood aside when the minute was approved. I couldn't conceive of Quakers (and one of those people is soon to be an officer of the Yearly Meeting) embracing equality but not fully embracing same-gender marriage. The minute affirms marriages performed by Monthly Meetings, not just within our Yearly Meeting, but all meetings everywhere. It is simply stated, yet something about it bothers me.
Here it is: "Philadelphia Yearly Meeting affirms the marriage of same-gender couples conducted under the care of Monthly Meetings of the Religious Society of Friends." Simple, right?
Well, yes, but I think it doesn't go far enough. I may be misguided, but I think this minute is meant for outside consumption, to state the Quaker position on this for non-Quakers. Philadelphia Yearly Meeting is a very visible body of Quakers and can be expected to speak for its Monthly Meetings to the world. Our Faith & Practice book is very careful to use gender-neutral pronouns when discussing marriage, so same-gender marriage seems to be tacitly accepted (and this document dates back at least a decade). Making a statement that is not clear, unequivocal and emphatic seems to me to be moot. We already support marriage, whoever the participants are; making a separate statement of support of same-gender marriage must strengthen that tacit acceptance in some visceral way to make any sense to me. If Quakers come out with a weak statement of support, then I think that support can easily be called into question by non-Quakers, which weakens our credibility.
Friends have noted that the word "affirm" has special meaning for Quakers, and that is very true. Quakers don't swear to tell the truth in a court of law, for instance; we affirm that we tell the truth all the time, not just when there is legal consequence if we don't. However, non-Quakers don't invest such power in affirmation, nor are they necessarily aware of the strength of it in Quaker circles. While this minute may be a powerful statement to Quakers, others may not see it that way.
This is my objection to the wording of the minute. Perhaps I haven't been a Quaker long enough to truly understand the power of affirmation. But I think the mainstream media would see it as weak, which undermines the actual strong advocation of equality in marriage that so many Quakers espouse. We need to "place before mankind the common sense of the subject, in terms so plain and firm as to command their assent, and to justify ourselves in the independent stand we are compelled to take," as Thomas Jefferson famously wrote of the Declaration of Independence. There is no room for ambiguity here.
Monday, February 12, 2007
Monday, February 05, 2007
The Zen of the Clothesline
I air-dry my clothes. All of them, when weather permits. As it gets colder, my fingers get number as I hang them out and take them down, but I find myself enjoying the laundry much more. Odd, isn't it?
When I use the sun and wind to dry the clothes, I have to be much more aware of the weather over the next few days (should I do two loads today while it's sunny, or will there be more sunny days this week?). I have to slow down and think about the individual garments I hang. My clothesline is a double one, a single line run through a pulley at each end to double the hanging space. If I hang the clothes correctly, I get each side of the line at a different level, so I don't have one shirt behind another, or a towel blocking the sun from the pants behind it. I have to calculate the weight and the length of the clothes on each half of the line to keep items from being blocked, but also to keep heavier things from dragging on the ground. It is a thoughtful, mindful process, which makes me feel a connection to the earth and its processes, and to the power of the sun and wind. I am lucky that I am able to air-dry clothes, and that for me it is indeed a choice.
The sun in my backyard disappears shortly after noon, so I have to start the laundry day early and be mindful of where the sun is by what time. The position of the sun in the backyard changes with the seasons, too, so I'm more aware of the passage of time, not just on a small daily scale, but on the scale of seasons and years. If it's a windy day, sunlight is less essential to the drying process, though either one helps. As the seasons change, my schedule must change with it. It is calming to let go of that schedule, to let the sun determine when the laundry gets done.
Now that the temperature has fallen below freezing, I am back to using my dryer. The laundry once again feels like a burden, a chore that must be done. Perhaps I am only responding to the novelty of the clothesline, but I had a shorter one before this and never tired of it. Now that I can dry the clothes anytime, I feel like a robot, feeding the clothes into one machine, then another, in the endless, unchanging process of keeping five people in clean clothes. Interestingly, my children never ran out of underwear in the warmer weather, when I reliably did one load of laundry a day, but now too often I get frantic requests for things that haven't yet been washed. The process has lost its magic, and I feel much less connected with the earth. I look forward to the spring for so many reasons, but my purple clothesline beckons, and I can't wait to use it again.
When I use the sun and wind to dry the clothes, I have to be much more aware of the weather over the next few days (should I do two loads today while it's sunny, or will there be more sunny days this week?). I have to slow down and think about the individual garments I hang. My clothesline is a double one, a single line run through a pulley at each end to double the hanging space. If I hang the clothes correctly, I get each side of the line at a different level, so I don't have one shirt behind another, or a towel blocking the sun from the pants behind it. I have to calculate the weight and the length of the clothes on each half of the line to keep items from being blocked, but also to keep heavier things from dragging on the ground. It is a thoughtful, mindful process, which makes me feel a connection to the earth and its processes, and to the power of the sun and wind. I am lucky that I am able to air-dry clothes, and that for me it is indeed a choice.
The sun in my backyard disappears shortly after noon, so I have to start the laundry day early and be mindful of where the sun is by what time. The position of the sun in the backyard changes with the seasons, too, so I'm more aware of the passage of time, not just on a small daily scale, but on the scale of seasons and years. If it's a windy day, sunlight is less essential to the drying process, though either one helps. As the seasons change, my schedule must change with it. It is calming to let go of that schedule, to let the sun determine when the laundry gets done.
Now that the temperature has fallen below freezing, I am back to using my dryer. The laundry once again feels like a burden, a chore that must be done. Perhaps I am only responding to the novelty of the clothesline, but I had a shorter one before this and never tired of it. Now that I can dry the clothes anytime, I feel like a robot, feeding the clothes into one machine, then another, in the endless, unchanging process of keeping five people in clean clothes. Interestingly, my children never ran out of underwear in the warmer weather, when I reliably did one load of laundry a day, but now too often I get frantic requests for things that haven't yet been washed. The process has lost its magic, and I feel much less connected with the earth. I look forward to the spring for so many reasons, but my purple clothesline beckons, and I can't wait to use it again.
Bad mom, or strong children?
Today we had a high of about 15 degrees Fahrenheit. The day started at about 4 degrees and didn't rise much from there. The school district had a two-hour delay this morning -- all of the area school districts did.
So the afternoon came, and it was time for my two daughters to come home on the bus. Our bus stop is a fair distance from our house -- around the corner and up a hill. I was home trying futilely to get a fire to burn in our wood stove so the house would be warm when they got home. I contemplated taking the car to the bus stop and giving them a ride home. I'm generally opposed to that, what with global warming and gasoline prices; I seldom drive to the bus stop unless we have to leave directly from there to make an appointment. But today, I considered making an exception.
But then I thought about the woman, some 15-20 years my senior, talking this morning at the bus stop about how she had to walk to school in weather like this (uphill and barefoot, no doubt -- but no, she wasn't being mean-spirited about it). And I wondered, does it do my daughters a disservice to coddle them like that? They were warmly dressed, with gloves and brand-new winter coats. And the eldest will soon be in middle school, which means she needs some modicum of independence and self-reliance. So, I decided to stay home and let them walk home, for better or for worse. It was slightly warmer than it had been in the morning, anyway.
Then they arrive home, and I find out that my neighbor, who lives two doors from the bus stop, gave them a ride home. Now, not only have they not learned self-reliance, but my neighbor thinks I'm a putz. This neighbor is a lovely person, and she's been through a lot in her life and she has a lot of strength as a result. But she is a self-described "smother-mother", who keeps her children quite close. Her children are a couple of years younger than mine, and she lost one -- her first -- in infancy, so it's understandable, to a point. But I do think my kids need to have a certain level of independence at this age, and I think the general tendency is to overprotect because of horror stories we hear about in the local news.
I don't want to succumb to the temptation to keep my children wrapped in cotton wool. I had an overprotective mother, and I paid a price for that. I once heard parenting described as a series of decisions. When the child is young, the parent makes all of the decisions. As the child matures, the decision-making is passed from parent to child gradually, until, at adulthood, the child makes them all. Right now, I think walking home from the bus stop is something they can handle. They know about stranger danger, they take karate classes, and, in any case, our neighborhood is safe as far as I know. If I can't handle them walking home from the bus stop, how will I handle them going out with friends in late middle school, or, God help me, dating?
Am I letting too much go, too soon? I don't think so. Ultimately, I have to follow my gut, and my gut says they can handle it. The rules have been spelled out clearly: come straight home (or call from the neighbors if they plan to stay), take the short cut through the neighbor's yard, don't talk to anyone they don't know, stay together and look out for each other. They're good, obedient but smart kids who won't abuse the privilege, and they like walking home on their own.
I'll change my policy next year, when my eldest starts middle school and comes home an hour earlier, and my little boy starts first grade. I'll be at the elementary bus stop every day, and I'll meet the middle school bus, too, at least at first. There may come a time when my eldest can meet the younger ones at the bus while I wait at home, but it will only happen when my gut says it can happen.
So the afternoon came, and it was time for my two daughters to come home on the bus. Our bus stop is a fair distance from our house -- around the corner and up a hill. I was home trying futilely to get a fire to burn in our wood stove so the house would be warm when they got home. I contemplated taking the car to the bus stop and giving them a ride home. I'm generally opposed to that, what with global warming and gasoline prices; I seldom drive to the bus stop unless we have to leave directly from there to make an appointment. But today, I considered making an exception.
But then I thought about the woman, some 15-20 years my senior, talking this morning at the bus stop about how she had to walk to school in weather like this (uphill and barefoot, no doubt -- but no, she wasn't being mean-spirited about it). And I wondered, does it do my daughters a disservice to coddle them like that? They were warmly dressed, with gloves and brand-new winter coats. And the eldest will soon be in middle school, which means she needs some modicum of independence and self-reliance. So, I decided to stay home and let them walk home, for better or for worse. It was slightly warmer than it had been in the morning, anyway.
Then they arrive home, and I find out that my neighbor, who lives two doors from the bus stop, gave them a ride home. Now, not only have they not learned self-reliance, but my neighbor thinks I'm a putz. This neighbor is a lovely person, and she's been through a lot in her life and she has a lot of strength as a result. But she is a self-described "smother-mother", who keeps her children quite close. Her children are a couple of years younger than mine, and she lost one -- her first -- in infancy, so it's understandable, to a point. But I do think my kids need to have a certain level of independence at this age, and I think the general tendency is to overprotect because of horror stories we hear about in the local news.
I don't want to succumb to the temptation to keep my children wrapped in cotton wool. I had an overprotective mother, and I paid a price for that. I once heard parenting described as a series of decisions. When the child is young, the parent makes all of the decisions. As the child matures, the decision-making is passed from parent to child gradually, until, at adulthood, the child makes them all. Right now, I think walking home from the bus stop is something they can handle. They know about stranger danger, they take karate classes, and, in any case, our neighborhood is safe as far as I know. If I can't handle them walking home from the bus stop, how will I handle them going out with friends in late middle school, or, God help me, dating?
Am I letting too much go, too soon? I don't think so. Ultimately, I have to follow my gut, and my gut says they can handle it. The rules have been spelled out clearly: come straight home (or call from the neighbors if they plan to stay), take the short cut through the neighbor's yard, don't talk to anyone they don't know, stay together and look out for each other. They're good, obedient but smart kids who won't abuse the privilege, and they like walking home on their own.
I'll change my policy next year, when my eldest starts middle school and comes home an hour earlier, and my little boy starts first grade. I'll be at the elementary bus stop every day, and I'll meet the middle school bus, too, at least at first. There may come a time when my eldest can meet the younger ones at the bus while I wait at home, but it will only happen when my gut says it can happen.
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