c. 2008 Religion News Service

(UNDATED) For the last 12 years, I have gone to church for a living.

It’s part of the job description for a religion writer to turn up regularly for services and events at church (or shul, masjid, temple, gurudwara or ashram, as the case may be).

Earning a living by going to church has made it rather challenging, for me at least, to go to church without my journalist hat, to turn off my inner critic and investigator.

It’s not that I have a problem with church … conceptually. And I don’t have a problem with Jesus. I love Jesus and I’m down with Christianity, it’s just other Christians that too often get on my nerves.

The last church I attended regularly split over issues related to homosexuality. It was acrimonious and terribly painful. After a lifetime of church, I took a break. With my day job, I was getting more than my share of sermons and theology and worship, even if I was (technically) watching from the sidelines.

So it’s been a long time since I sought out a new place of worship of my own. Sometimes I yearn for that regular place, where the faces, liturgy and message are familiar, comfortable, consistent.

But it’s not easy to get back in the water, no matter how refreshing it seems, when you know that there are jellyfish (if not sharks) waiting to hurt you if you’re not careful.

That said, inspired by a new friend who is a Quaker and surprising no one more than myself, recently I rolled up my jeans and strode into the shallow surf at a Sunday meeting of the Society of Friends (i.e. the Quakers).

Worship was in an art gallery. It lasted for a little more than an hour and was almost entirely silent, which is what drew my husband and me to the meeting with about 20 other “Friends.”

Quakerism is a Christian movement that dates to mid-17th-century England. It is one of the historic peace churches that believe passionately in pacifism, social justice and egalitarianism.

Quakers don’t believe in creeds (or professional clergy), but there are two unifying themes to their theology: God communicates directly with individual people without the need for mediation. All of life is sacred and therefore all we do is an act of worship, so we should live in a way that reflects our communion with God.

Simple and profoundly complex.

“Unprogrammed” Quaker worship services like the one I attended are generally conducted in silence where worshippers wait for the Spirit of God to lead someone _ anyone or no one _ to speak. They call it “expectant waiting.” The idea is that God speaks to all, not just to those ordained or upon whom we depend, on a weekly basis, to hear from God and put the message into a sermon. The worship service begins when the first person enters and sits down.

We sat in a circle, silently waiting together for the movement of the Spirit, as charcoal and oil nudes watched from the gallery walls. Most of us are terribly uncomfortable with silence. It’s no surprise as we experience it so rarely amidst the cacophony of our frenetic WiFi, surrond-sound lives.

No one said anything for the first 20 minutes and it was all I could do to control what Buddhists call the “monkey mind,” my thoughts racing in images, like I had a finger pressed on my internal channel changer.

The woman next to me opened a lozenge as quietly as she could. Another battled frequent, violent coughing attacks. The man across from me had squeaky shoes. I tried to listen to the inner voice of God. It was tough. My mind is a blabbermouth.

Eventually a few people spoke without fanfare. The one I remember was a woman who began her message by saying, “The Spirit of God is like Powder Milk Biscuits _ it gives shy persons the strength to stand up and do what needs to be done.” (Apparently God is a fan of “A Prairie Home Companion.”)

The meeting ended when one of the members said “Welcome, Friends,” and we all shook hands. Then there were announcements, followed by tea and conversation.

It’s difficult to explain how transcendent and intense that quiet, gentle service was. A still, small voice?

I’m not sure yet whether Quakerism is for me, but I did enjoy the silence.

(Cathleen Falsani is a columnist for the Chicago Sun-Times and author of “The God Factor: Inside the Spiritual Lives of Public People.”)

KRE/RB END FALSANI750 words

A photo of Cathleen Falsani is available via https://religionnews.com.