(I began this contemplation , here in the LiveJournal community, "Quakers". I got fewer replies from people actually working in the arts than I expected. I know there are a few balladeers, versifiers, and painters of the Frriendly persuesion here on Mudcat, so I thought I'd raise my questions here)

This afternoon at the library, I found Imagination and Spirit: A contemporary Quaker Reader, Edited and Introduced by J. Brent Hill. I was expecting it to be a collection of essays on contemporary theology and philosophy in the Society of Friends. Instead, it's a mix of fiction and essays (mostly fiction) by Friends who have published in the mainstream market for mainstream audiences (I'm still looking forward to reading it), with the intent of introducing modern Quakers to those who only think of us as that man with the funny hat on the oatmeal box.

The introduction is a a brief, broad, but clear overview of Quaker history, from the Seekers movement, which inspired George Fox, to the present day (it was published in 2002). In the introduction, J. Brent Hill addresses the changing attitudes of Quakers to the arts over the centuries, including fiction. He wrote:

Harsh condemnation was heaped on the theater and fiction -- both were "made up." Friends felt it was insincere to express beliefs/attitudes they did not personally have.

.
And this got me thinking. I was raised as a Friend (albeit loosely -- I never formally joined any Meeting), and I've also been drawn to storytelling and writing for as long as I can remember. For me, writing a fictional character, especially one who holds different attitudes than I do, is a supremely Friendly thing to do. The challenge, in the writing of the story, is to create likenesses of fully human, fully sympathetic people, even when I don't agree with that character's decisions or actions, and to show that humanity to the reader (or listener). In other words, I must illustrate the Inner Light that shines within all things, whether they are the "Hero" of the story, or the "Villian."

And the practice of thinking about the motivations for the fictional characters I read and write has taught me to think the same about the real people I meet in life -- even as I'm arguing with them over issues of great importance to both of us, I'm reminded that this person comes to me after a life filled with struggle and triumph, and a life just as filled with the Light as my own.


---

Friends in the 17th Century were about as hostile to any form of art as it is possible to be. In 1682, William Penn wrote:

How many plays did Jesus Christ and His Apostles recreate themselves at? What poets, romances, comedies, and the like did the Apostles and Saints make, or use to pass away their time withal? I know, they did redeem their time, to avoid foolish talking, vain jesting, profane babblings, and fabulous stories.

And it wasn't until 1972 that the Philadelphia Yearly Meeting issued the following statement:

Simplicity directs the individual to choose those forms of recreation that rest and build up the body, that refresh and enrich mind and spirit. One should consider the proper expenditure of time, money and strength, the moral and physical welfare of others as well as oneself. Healthful recreation includes games, sports and other physical exercise; gardening and the study and enjoyment of nature; travel; books; the fellowship of friends and family; and the arts and handicrafts which bring creative self-expression and appreciation of beauty. Recreations in which one is a participant rather than merely a spectator are particularly beneficial.

(Both quotes excerpted from Beyond an Uneasy Tolerance, published by the Fellowship of Quakers in the Arts, 2000)

I can understand, and almost agree with the austere rejection of the arts by early Friends, especially in this arts-saturated time, with "150 crystal-clear channels of sports and entertainment" clamouring for our attention at any given moment. The physical (and intellectual) clutter of our modern world can too easily distract us from dwelling in the quiet here-and-now, especially when the Spirit Within speaks to us of uncomfortable truths ("Don't talk to me, now. I'm watching my favorite show," or: "I'll deal with that after I've re-alphabetized my beanie baby collection.").

On the other hand, when the Spirit moves us to speak or act, it is in order to reach out to others. And. sometimes (perhaps, even, "most often"), the best way is indirectly, though the emotions, rather than cold reason alone. If I could sit down with William Penn, I'd remind him that Jesus chose to minister though stories and parables, rather than a strict recitation of facts, and that it was his skill as a storyteller which drew audiences to hear him speak, and convince is disciples of the Truth.

And if the Spirit Within moves us to sing (or dance, or paint, or sculpt), and we squelch that calling because we fear the judgement of others in our society (lower case intentional), than aren't we just as enslaved by outward form as those who feel bound by elaborate ritual?

---

Anyway, I was wondering how other Quakers here reconcile their participation in the Arts with the testimonies of modesty and simplicity.