The napkin rings are from Ten Thousand Villages. The dinner napkins were purchased in 1989 in Winnipeg, Manitoba. photograph ©Kristin Lord 2014 |
Nominating Committee:
because of several months of bad weather and issues getting some key positions
filled, we have not yet given an important report to Monthly Meeting. As the
person who is first named on the committee and usually the one with the most
viable car, in the end it is my responsibility. Everyone has been very polite
about the situation, but the job has to be done, both filling the positions and
giving the report.
Upon rereading the
previous sentence, maybe I should eliminate the word “polite” and insert “nice.”
The etymology of the latter word (according to the Shorter Oxford English Dictionary, “nice” is from from the Latin nescius “not knowing,” which is in turn
a form of nescire “to not know,” via
Old French) shows exactly the quandary we are in. If Friends will allow
me, in the interests of confidentiality, to provide a composite picture of many
nominating committees of more than one organization and to put my own example
first, I might suggest that sometimes we are nice because we don’t know what
else to do. No one wishes to upset his or her neighbor, or the Friend calling
from the Nominating Committee, and people hate to disappoint by saying “No.”
Thus “Nice” and “No”
are in a sense opposite. If we are nice, then we are most reluctant to say no,
even to unreasonable requests for service in money and time. Many women in
particular were raised to think that, if we are being “nice,” we should
acquiesce to any and every work-related project and pick up articles of
clothing that able-bodied people leave on the floor. The social reality that
many women have been raised to be compliant makes it harder for people to
believe us when we say “No” to unwanted sexual favors, despite the persistence
of double standards of sexual behavior. (As my friends in women’s and gender
studies would undoubtedly remind me, the linguistic and social history of “nice”
and “no” when it comes to sexuality makes writing about theology look straightforward
by comparison.)
As Friends, we are
discouraged from waffling behind the screen of social convention, although we
have euphemisms of our own when we wish to avoid giving offense. For instance,
we all know that “the name of that Friend would not have occurred to me” means
that the speaker believes that the Friend in question quite emphatically does
not have the right credentials for whatever is under consideration.
If Quakers have heroes,
inside or outside of our Religious Society, then they are often the ones who
have refused to go along, regardless of the price. And those heroes do not
always have to say “No” in as many words. Think of the statements of Martin
Niemöller (“First they came for the Socialists...”) and Rosa Parks. All Rosa
Parks needed was a physical refusal and the pointed use one word, “may” instead
of “can,” in “You may arrest me.”
In terms of work,
successive Quaker committees revising editions of Faith and Practice are quite adamant about the importance of the word
“No.” Section 3.09 of most recent version of Quaker Faith and Practice of Britain Yearly Meeting begins:
It
is not expected that any Friend should attend every meeting or sit upon innumerable
committees. Decide what is within your physical and spiritual capacity, and be
responsible in your attitude to what you do select. Be as regular, faithful,
and punctual as possible in your attendance.
Rewriting Faith and Practice is hard work; the
Friends who wrote that statement would have been the first to know when to call
it a day. Nevertheless, to be true to the old Query, “Are love and unity
maintained amongst you?” a refusal may still be “nice” in the best sense of the
word.
And yet, an anecdote
from my own Quaker experience provides a cautionary tale of the difficulty of
one human spirit holding the potential for “nice” and “no” in proportionate
measure. Friends may recall that George Fox considered telling the truth, to
let yay be yay and nay, nay, among his central testimonies —indeed, the one
upon which the others depend; this insistence in turn entails the use of
affirmations in place of oaths. A man made of weaker material than Fox would
have failed to achieve any of his goals, and yet Fox’s consistency of principle
and practice had a price. Some years ago, an older and experienced Friend stood
up in a group of New England Quakers who were admiring the visionary nature of
the first chapters of George Fox's Journal.
“I am going to ask you all a question: would you invite George Fox to your home
for a formal dinner party?” Need I add that this Friend was a cook and host of
legendary abilities.
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