Every one of us is a radical experiment in living and needs a place which will allow us to become all we know we can be.
Jennifer Barraclough, former Director of Woodbrooke
Jennifer Barraclough, former Director of Woodbrooke
The time was all, and more, that I hoped it could be.
Woodbrooke is set in beautiful grounds with geese, lake and woods, formerly owned - and handed on to the wider Quaker family - by George Cadbury, the chocolate manufacturer. Its hosted many change agents before their heady glory days, - Gandhi, Jomo Kenyatta. It has an amazing library, open 24/7, with a quirky, creative, fascinating range of books. But what makes it special
for me, are its rhythms, early morning meeting for worship, afternoon tea, late night epilogue, its place for worship and retirement, and the ever-changing, ever-fascinating mix of guests.
Over the years I've met such memorable people there. People who truly lived their lives to the full. In the 1990s, speaking to the white South African guest, my age, who turned out to have been a conscientious objector who had spent three years in prison in solitary confinement for his refusal to serve in apartheid's armed forces. Late night cocoa, chatting to the feisty woman in her mid-eighties, who started a sentence mid-conversation, 'but that was back when I was a man, before my op'. Poets, former monks, African peace workers, former paramilitaries, a rich heady mix.
Woodbrooke is a place for transitions. As prospective Quaker volunteers overseas you spend a week or two there to prepare and reflect before definitively signing your contract. As a 20-something about to volunteer in Brussels at the European institutions, I had a memorable fortnight alongside early retirees about to work in battletorn north eastern Sri Lanka, interns at the UN in Geneva and others moving to community organisations in the Middle East and Southern Africa. We did role plays relevant to our postings. Told Tamil Tiger soldiers that we'd be willing to give them a lift, but they'd need to leave their weapons behind to come in our car. Learned how to deflect the predatory senior UN official from a country where the rights of young women are understood differently. Listened to former volunteers, a couple who'd been in a very volatile warzone, speaking of their unspoken understandings, for one of them that they'd be very lucky to come out of this alive, but that nonetheless it mattered to be there, for the other that of course, all would be well, all manner of things would be well. We talked of ethical dilemmas. Of different behaviour in different countries. Of how protesting if a teammember is arrested may prevent torture, but may endanger the future of involvement in the country. For me, then, it was a massive eyeopener. Not that it was essential for my work in Brussels, but to feel part of a wider family with different dilemmas, of a world family with very different realities, mattered.
Two years ago, before coming to Kenya, I was struggling with my lot, with this upcoming major transition. Headed to Woodbrooke for a workshop, Sink Down to the Seed, a chance to explore different methods of prayer, to deepen one's prayer life. Discovered how an experienced spiritual director can hold a safe, worshipful space, can pose gentle but searching questions, help a disparate group to trust and gell, to explore their encounters with God, to share them with strangers, and to become deep friends. Learned 'tips' from others in the group, of early morning journalling, of prayers said before they step out into the day that they might welcome God in each person they meet that day. Moved beyond my wholly do-it-yourself approach to prayer to learn different techniques, walking mediation, wordless body prayers, examen, where one looks back at times in the last day when one has felt most connected and engaged to God, and when most drained and distant. Valued a programme which had a plan, but where it was clear that what was going on, being experienced in the worshipful group, superceded any preplanned agenda or potentially useful exercises.
(..) Life is not hurrying
on to a receding future, nor hankering after
an imagined past. It is the turning
aside like Moses to the miracle
of the lit bush, (..)
RS Thomas
So, now in a happier, less strained and estranged place it felt important to meet again with the same facilitator on her next course, on Thomas Kelly. How fantastic to discover that, of our upbeat, grounded, trusting original group of two years ago, half the participants had signed up again, groupies, cigarette lighters in hand. No one posed that age-old Quaker query, 'How doth the Truth prosper with thee?' - but that was what underlay our time together. Space to turn aside, to reflect, with Friends, how, and where the Spirit may be guiding us, what each of us is being called to build on and to do.
I understand the theology, the logic, for Friends of our liberal unprogrammed tradition, that as God speaks directly to each one of us, should we choose to listen, we are all ministers, and have no paid, recorded ministry. I understand the logic, and yet, at times like this, I feel their loss. Our workshop facilitator was a recorded minister from a programmed tradition. She'd spent a great deal of time training for and leading groups like ours, and boy did it show. I think back to other times in my life when guided time aside has really spoken to me. To the church toddler group where the vicar would come each week and lead a personal, deeply spiritual 10 minute input before coffee, for the largely secular, bustling, preoccupied group of mums and toddlers. And of the gathered silence that would fall in that unlikely setting. Of the Anglican vicar at our children's village primary school in UK, and how he would transform the school weekly service to something meaningful, which spoke deeply to conscripted children and volunteer parents, of all faiths and none. Of my friend, the former nun, who led Brussels meeting in a month-long retreat in everyday life. Experience matters.
Which is why Woodbrooke is so important to me. A resource for those bits I find too tricky alone. A place for new beginnings, for fresh attempts at old resolutions, for worthy endeavours which may, or may not, be garlanded with worldly success, but which matter just the same. Alongside our group this time were ten prospective Ecumenical Accompaniers, volunteers from across UK, training to live on the West Bank under occupation. A programme of the World Council of Churches, the accompaniers offer protective presence to vulnerable communities, monitor and report human rights abuses and support Palestinians and Israelis working together for peace. While we were there we heard they'd all passed the programme, had all agreed to sign their contracts, and would be off in September. The community gave them an ovation, raised our glasses to them, made it clear we were proud of them, that they were doing this on behalf of a wider group of supporters. I'd guess in the wider world, friends, neighbours, owners of corner shops, might be saying 'Why on earth would you go there now you're just retired?' I'd guess there'll be times, at checkpoints, at flashpoints, witnessing human rights abuses, when our friends will wonder themselves why they're there. Like freshfaced students returning from college with your washing, it matters to have somewhere where you belong, are accepted, where your motives are understood. For me Woodbrooke is one of those places.
'All that matters is to be one with the living God
to be a creature in the house of the God of Life.
Like a cat asleep on a chair
at peace, in peace
and at one with the master of the house, with the mistress,
at home, at home in the house of the living,
sleeping on the hearth, and yawning before the fire.
Sleeping on the hearth of the living world
yawning at home before the fire of life
feeling the presence of the living God
like a great reassurance
a deep calm in the heart
a presence
as of the master sitting at the board
in his own and greater being,
in the house of life.'
D H Lawrence
RS Thomas
So, now in a happier, less strained and estranged place it felt important to meet again with the same facilitator on her next course, on Thomas Kelly. How fantastic to discover that, of our upbeat, grounded, trusting original group of two years ago, half the participants had signed up again, groupies, cigarette lighters in hand. No one posed that age-old Quaker query, 'How doth the Truth prosper with thee?' - but that was what underlay our time together. Space to turn aside, to reflect, with Friends, how, and where the Spirit may be guiding us, what each of us is being called to build on and to do.
I understand the theology, the logic, for Friends of our liberal unprogrammed tradition, that as God speaks directly to each one of us, should we choose to listen, we are all ministers, and have no paid, recorded ministry. I understand the logic, and yet, at times like this, I feel their loss. Our workshop facilitator was a recorded minister from a programmed tradition. She'd spent a great deal of time training for and leading groups like ours, and boy did it show. I think back to other times in my life when guided time aside has really spoken to me. To the church toddler group where the vicar would come each week and lead a personal, deeply spiritual 10 minute input before coffee, for the largely secular, bustling, preoccupied group of mums and toddlers. And of the gathered silence that would fall in that unlikely setting. Of the Anglican vicar at our children's village primary school in UK, and how he would transform the school weekly service to something meaningful, which spoke deeply to conscripted children and volunteer parents, of all faiths and none. Of my friend, the former nun, who led Brussels meeting in a month-long retreat in everyday life. Experience matters.
Which is why Woodbrooke is so important to me. A resource for those bits I find too tricky alone. A place for new beginnings, for fresh attempts at old resolutions, for worthy endeavours which may, or may not, be garlanded with worldly success, but which matter just the same. Alongside our group this time were ten prospective Ecumenical Accompaniers, volunteers from across UK, training to live on the West Bank under occupation. A programme of the World Council of Churches, the accompaniers offer protective presence to vulnerable communities, monitor and report human rights abuses and support Palestinians and Israelis working together for peace. While we were there we heard they'd all passed the programme, had all agreed to sign their contracts, and would be off in September. The community gave them an ovation, raised our glasses to them, made it clear we were proud of them, that they were doing this on behalf of a wider group of supporters. I'd guess in the wider world, friends, neighbours, owners of corner shops, might be saying 'Why on earth would you go there now you're just retired?' I'd guess there'll be times, at checkpoints, at flashpoints, witnessing human rights abuses, when our friends will wonder themselves why they're there. Like freshfaced students returning from college with your washing, it matters to have somewhere where you belong, are accepted, where your motives are understood. For me Woodbrooke is one of those places.
'All that matters is to be one with the living God
to be a creature in the house of the God of Life.
Like a cat asleep on a chair
at peace, in peace
and at one with the master of the house, with the mistress,
at home, at home in the house of the living,
sleeping on the hearth, and yawning before the fire.
Sleeping on the hearth of the living world
yawning at home before the fire of life
feeling the presence of the living God
like a great reassurance
a deep calm in the heart
a presence
as of the master sitting at the board
in his own and greater being,
in the house of life.'
D H Lawrence
Thanks so much for this Catrin. Am caught as always in the hurly burly of life, and am reminded that I need to take that time out to reflect and review my priorities. So miss our chats with Suzanne in WGC. Need to look up the Woodbrook page... Ann x
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