I sit here in my garden, early in this glorious morning, under my old wool prayer shawl, trying to get to that deep blissful meditative state which I can sometimes reach.
But my mind slips away from my mantra, into a self-defensive and perhaps self-pitying rant against unfairnesses in my life. So my mind drifts from potential bliss to the words of an essay by me listing all I have done – not to seek thanks but merely to plead for recognition.
I pull my mind back to the mantra. Or shall I pray? To God. Then I’m in the well-worn groove of my essays and vocal ministry about the essential heart of Quakerism being the worship of God and open-ness to divine guidance. “We commit ourselves to a form of worship which allows God to teach and transform us…” We “trust” that good values such as love and truth are “the leadings of God”. But do we? In meetings for worship, how can I know who is with me and who firmly does not “allow”, refuses to “trust”? Yes, “when two or three are gathered in my name…” But what when most aren’t?
Once again I brush these distractions aside and seek to clear my mind. But now I consider going to church for morning prayers. No, it’s still too early. Why do I feel this urge for church? It is not only that I love being in any kind of deeply spiritual place – churches, Hindu temples, pre-historic stone circles, ley-line crossings.
I’m not sure why I am drawn to Anglican services. (Those I go to usually have only a few or no other ‘congregation’. Just me and the priest.) I find part of the liturgy unacceptable, even repelling. I find some of the psalms and the Old Testament readings horrifying. I feel I really should not be there, yet a few days later I find myself drawn back.
It occurs to me that a prescribed service helps one to stay focussed on “the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit”. There’s little time to consider one’s problems. (Sometimes a psalm, with anger directed at ‘mine enemies’ hints at them!) One is led to praise, to thanks, to concern for others, and by exhortations to go out and do God’s work.
But should I really be here, apparently accepting words that are at best irrelevant and at worst objectionable? Thankfully, the morning service which I attend (at St Mary Redcliffe) does not include the creed, though it is included in the low mass at the high church which I attend sometimes, early on a Sunday morning . When I discuss my discomfort with the priests they all make light of it. “Yes, we all have a problems with the creed!”, exclaimed one. “Just take what you can and leave the rest”, advised another.
I manage to repeat my own mantra a few times, then go in to get some breakfast.
My Credo Blog 