Pendle Hill, its Staff, and Community

Pendle Hill is undergoing profound change which will certainly establish the face and character of Pendle Hill for the next generation.  Some of those changes, it is obvious, are already in hand:  this is what I wrote to the couple who were the Britain Yearly Meeting Friends in Residence last year:

Our first days are going well.  Our experience is in marked contrast to what I remember of your description of your early days and weeks. This is in part to the clear, gentle orientation and induction which we are undergoing, led by a new appointment Rachel, and by Marianne,  a most wonderful FIR from Arkansas , who has taken us under her tender wing. Danny is ensuring we are clear about hosting duties, including the computer system.   I think you will be delighted to learn that a new computer system is planned to be operational quite soon, which will enable a more effective service to be offered by the hosts!  But much more than this, there has clearly been strategic thinking about the role of FIR, and ways our needs might be met if they are to participate in the community to the full, and most fully serve the organisation to the best of their gifts and talents. 

But there is much more fundamental change planned. A committee has been appointed to choose a firm of architects to address some of the issues of the current building stock, and draw up a series of plans to enhance the site.  The Board (Trustees) are refashioning the Mission Statement (which signals fundamental change in any organisation which takes itself seriously).   Personally, after being an agent and driver of change for so many years it is fascinating to observe change at  ground level - and the pun has been made that as FiRs we are at the bottom of the tree!.  And of course change is demanding for those who are required  to implement it – the staff.

It is a fascinating to see the staff at work and play. I said at the beginning of our time here how richly we had been welcomed – on the second night we were taken into Philadelphia  to a splendid production for Twelfth Night (the taunting of  Malvoliao played as a scene from Abu Ghraib).  This welcome and acceptance continues - last night I was invited to see a showing  of the film (movie) Drive .  Luckily Gwyneth had duties and couldn’t go – I found it a brilliant film, but some scenes were really horrendously gory, and as anyone who knows her realises, she would have hated these.

 Earlier in the week we had a chance to see the staff working very hard, as we were invited to the two day Staff Retreat, and which the whole body of staff undertook training in ‘cultural competence’ i.e. meeting and welcoming ‘the other’.  Of course, in order to meet the other, we have to be prepared to meet ourselves, and for some of us, this is not always easy given that some of us have had very bruising experiences – often as young children. .  The fact that we were doing this as part of a working day, to which people are compelled to come, raises interesting questions about the nature of Pendle Hill.

For Pendle Hill, it seems to me, offers two fascinating ways of seeing things.  When seen through one set of lenses, it is an organisation; an organisation undertaking God’s work in the world, but nevertheless an organisation which has employees, a payroll, and needs to make a profit to stay in existence.  Through another set of lenses, it is a community, living and worshipping together, attempting to model that community which welcomes all (just as all are called to the feast in the parable) – attempting to show what the kingdom of God on earth might look like.  And is both, simultaneously.  There is not two  set s of lenses, but one – like bifocals; sometimes you  look through one, at another time another, and sometimes need to flick between the two so quickly it is difficult to realise there are in fact two lenses.

Many of the staff are truly committed to a community way of living: as I’ve described, many staff live on campus, meals are eaten together, and many attend morning worship together.  On the retreat, there were soaring, moving contributions about hospitality welcoming people into community, so that there is not division between them and us, and each stranger representing  the face of Jesus.

In this sense, it is a spiritual community living its truth.  There are deeper questions – how can a faith community nurture and sustain its identity, and continuing tradition, whilst being alive, alert  and embracing of the stranger in its midst? How can that same faith tradition be a continuing tradition, whilst including those of other faiths, and those of none?  How open is open?

It occurs to me that Pendle Hill is not the only part of the Society to be wrestling with such issues.  Those of us on Quaker Life Central committee have been wrestling with such a concern; both may be seen to be holding this issue for the wider Society on both sides of the Atlantic. One answer is hinted at by the very grounds and presence of Pendle Hill.  Around the perimeter of the site, there is a marked and maintained perimeter path – it a true joy to walk this path regularly and many of my photos of the grounds have been taken on that path.  There are many neighbours of Pendle Hill, each with their own piece of property, carefully marked by boundary fences.  Each neighbour has a small footpath from their property, enabling them to access the Pendle Hill trail.  From the trail, it is easy to enter into the heart of Pendle Hill – the Barn, the Main House, and various buildings of accommodation and the Library:  there is a clear boundary, but a very accessible, permeable border.  It is making this metaphor live which is the art and work of the staff here.

And what a group of people they are: alert, lively, hugely intelligent and thoughtful.  It’s fascinating to hear the cooks talking incessantly about food - sourcing it, cooking it, balancing it.  And then having discussion with those same people about the nature of American Society or the intellectual and spiritual basis  of Western civilisation; listening to an IT specialist talk about his passion of developing aquaponics;  watching them in a large group, as they stretch out in yoga positions,  do their knitting (men and women, incidentally), and refuse, very politely, but very clearly,  to allow  an external Facilitator to come in and simply walk through a series of exercises, ensuring that he tailored his work to meet the demands of that group in that moment – all these are very impressive features of a highly articulate and personally self-skilled group.  Like most educated Americans I have met, they seem to be far more conscious of how matters are processed and decisions arrived at than their British equivalents, who often seem to take their model to be the House of Commons and engage in robust conversations which are, at heart, adversarial.

These are my reflections thus far on our experiences here, and how I understand Pendle Hill as a community at this moment.  I’m sure this is a topic to which I shall be returning at some point.

Patsy and Jonathan at Pendle Hill

This brief posting is to show you pictures of Patsy (whom Gwyneth and I knew from various Quaker contexts) and husband Jonathon (whom we had not met before).

Patsy had mentioned that they may be visiting Pennsylvania while we were here, and would try and get to Pendle Hill – but this was just one sentence en passant at a very busy Yearly meeting.   And anyway, as everyone knows, my memory is appalling!    I was utterly bowled over to see Patsy walk through a door!  Apparently this sort of thing happens in Pendle Hill all the time.

We tried to get to Swarthmore College, entirely missing the footpath through the woods.  We managed to get there –eventually, via the long route on the road.  Swarthmore College is a  beautiful campus with lots of trees and grass – rather like a Cambridge or Oxford,  but, as Gwyneth tartly remarked, students and visitors  were actually able to stroll on  the grass!

And for some reason, there was a huge, giant chair.  All the chairs were oversize, but one was just enormous!  If we find the reason for this we’ll let you know.

I

Pendle Hill and Work

I’d like to continue our description of Pendle Hill, and life at Pendle Hill, by writing a little more about the work here, and perhaps something of our role.  We spent the first week settling in; the second training up for the work we need to do; and now we are trying to get a shape of the week we shall we working, and the shape of our day within that week.

Life here is modelled on a religious community – a bell is rung to announce the morning and the evening meal; meeting for Worship is held every day after breakfast, and the day closes with Epilogue, a short period of quiet reflection to compose oneself for the night, the day is punctuated by the three meals eaten in convivial company.   Physical work is similarly integrated into daily life, as it would be in a centre of retreat, a monastery.

Over the week-end Gwyneth undertook  a weekend retreat called Lives of Service, in which participants came to undertake gardening and related projects, which were interspersed with periods of reflection, and readings from the great teachers on the nature of work and service.  This is probably one of the most satisfying things she has ever done, and given her enormous confidence in the task she undertakes with great skill – working with her hands.  It is immensely satisfying to know that she was part of the group which planted a tree in Pendle Hill.  Who knows, perhaps one day our grandchildren (should they arrive) may come and see the tree she planted!

At the end of the day, there was a beautiful reading in Epilogue, in which we were invited to hold out our hands and contemplate them as Marianne read:

Blessed be the work of your hands,

Oh Holy one

Blessed be these hands that have touched life.

Blessed be these hands that have nurtured creativity

Blessed be these hands that have held pain.

Blessed be these hands that have embraced with passion.

Blessed be these hands that have tended gardens.

Blessed be these hands which have closed in anger

Blesssed be these hands that have planted new seeds

Blessed be these hands that have harvested ripe fields.

Blessed be these hands that have cleaned, washed, mopped, scrubbed.

Blessed be these hands that have become knotty with age.

Blessed be these hands that are wrinkled and scarred from doing justice.

Blessed be these hands which have reached out and received.

Blessed be these hands that hold the promise of thre future.

Blessed be the words of your hands,

Oh Holy One

Diann Neu

This was a specific work based retreat week-end.Our role here  is quite complex, and perhaps I will write about that on another occasion.  

But we have specific tasks to do: acting as front of house staff  to guests and sojourners is one aspect; 

sharing ordinary kitchen duties  - washing dishes, scouring pans, cleaning tables - with other community members is another.

  Gwyneth has always undertaken the normal duties of running a household with good grace and competence. I realise I have resented clearing up after the children as little kids, typical thoughtless adolescents, and sometimes careless young adults.  But this last week we have spent training for our roles, and I have found laying out breakfast for the community to be truly inspiring work.  It involves rising at 6.00, to start laying breakfast at 6.30.  By then, the cooks are often at work, making the cooked food that will comprise part of the meal.  My role is to make the coffee, lay out the cereal, renew the milk and butter etc. so that those resident on campus can have a relaxed and enjoyable meal to start their day before Meeting for Worship.  Working so early in the morning, in the stillness and the quiet, with time to concentrate on remembering where everything is stored, and with time to compensate for my own clumsiness when I inevitably drop something, and knowing that many will benefit from my labours is profoundly satisfying.

I am  reminded of an e-mail discussion I had with my Friend Michael in which I wrote:

You describe me as Mary to your Martha.  I live with someone who is a wonderful Martha; perfectly capable in what she turns her  hand to, running our household smoothly, efficiently and lovingly.  I have lots of time for Marthas.  I believe they get a bad press, especially by those who would wish to stress the primacy of the secluded life, and therefore needed to make the words of Jesus seem to justify the life of contemplation.

I led a retreat last year for Holyhead meeting. In it I said that the problem with Martha was not that she was a doer, rather than a contemplative, but that she was unhappy in what she was doing.  We can imagine her fussing around Jesus, preparing her finest food in her best crockery, banging pots and lids and spoons in her annoyance that she is doing all the work – when actually we can imagine Jesus would have been happy with bread, a few olives, a little wine, and her full attention. She could have sat down with Jesus and her sister; but rather than following her true desire,  she feels obliged to do what custom and tradition have taught her must be done for guests, but does it unwillingly, with poor grace and bad temper. The true meaning of the story is, I would suggest, for us to serve the Lord in whatever we are doing.  We should not wish to be somewhere else, but enter into our own situation fully and completely; live fully as  we are, in the skin we have been given.  Each one of us is utterly unique; each one of is made of stardust; each one of us has our place in creation, that only we can fulfil.

I sent Michael a poem by George Herbert that many of us are familiar from school-day hymn singing.   If we can see past the archaic language and concepts, this poem is helping us to recognise that we can find God in our work:

¶   The Elixir.

TEach me, my God and King,         In all things thee to see, And what I do in any thing,         To do it as for thee:          Not rudely, as a beast,         To runne into an action; But still to make thee prepossest,         And give it his perfection.         A man that looks on glasse,         On it may stay his eye; Or if he pleaseth, through it passe,         And then the heav’n espie.         All may of thee partake:         Nothing can be so mean, Which with his tincture (for thy sake)         Will not grow bright and clean.         A servant with this clause         Makes drudgerie divine: Who sweeps a room, as for thy laws,         Makes that and th’ action fine.         This is the famous stone         That turneth all to gold: For that which God doth touch and own         Cannot for lesse be told.

A week in Pendle Hill

Well we have been at Pendle Hill for exactly a week.

It is a truly lovely place.  It is a large, extensive campus, which stretches over the road, leading to a pond and wetland.   There is a mile long walk all around the campus.  Rather than describe it with words, here are some photos.

I’m sure you will immediately notice the splendid trees.  They are just glorious.  Much as I love Holy Island, I do miss trees, and here they are in all their magnificence.

The welcome we received was truly wonderful.  We Britons are often disdainful of Americans and their apparent loudness.  I sometimes think we mistake loudness for effusiveness –it seems to me that Americans generally are more aware and give greater weight and clarity to their emotions, and so are able to demonstrate their feelings more.  We met with welcomes that were just so generous, spontaneous and appreciative that they might have felt inauthentic or false in a British contest – here we simply felt bathed in good will.

Meeting for worship takes place in a simple, uncluttered room with benches arranged in a square. 

Worship here seems to me to be more wholehearted, full-throated;  people seem to immerse themselves more fully than in Britain – even than in my beloved Woodbrooke.  When people ask for a brief silence, it is not a token absence of speech – silences are longer, more total, deeper; there is a sense of their being deeply gathered (covered is a term used here, I understand). When it comes to the longer Meetings for Worship, held each morning, I have the sense of them being somehow total, absolute, of greater, much greater, intensity. One of the first, if not the first pieces of ministry offered, as far as I can recall, was:

Submit yourself to God

Submit your whole being to God

Let God carry you lightly

Allow yourself to be amazed

This seemed to be speaking to my condition, but was also was speaking about the place and its demands.

There is a clear sense of Pendle Hill as a community.  As part of the procedure of Meeting for Worship, there is space for prayers, concerns or joys to be expressed.  After Meeting for Worship newcomers are greeted, farewells are said to those leaving, even if they have only stayed a few days.  When one long term member of the community left, after a year, people gathered hands and sang a song of farewell and good wishes - we both found this very moving.  

Pendle Hill takes seriously its sense of our whole lives being involved in worship - that all of  aspects of our lives are sacramental.  When I was being trained to wash dishes, it was made clear that I was not just washing dishes, but protecting the health of the community.  At the end of the session, when all had been tidied and cleared away, I was told that my last task was to stand back from the area I had been working in,  hold the next person working there in the light, and ask myself if this was the area they would appreciate coming to work in.  On another occasion, when being trained to wash pots (the big pans the cooks use for cooking the food), I was my usual bustling self to try and get the job done quickly to get it over and done with.  I was quietly offered the following advicre  " I would suggest you work at a moderate pace -the is no need to  no need to rush - enjoy your work"  Work here is a source of contemplation, meditation and prayer.  

It is truly a very wonderful place.

One of my responses to this week has been to write this poem:

Meeting for Worship in Pendle Hill, Wallingford, Pennsylvania, a dozen miles from Philadelphia, 

Pendle Hill is a center of God's work in transforming the world. Pendle Hill nurtures the life and witness of the Religious Society of Friends (Quakers) through worship, work, study and service. We welcome those of all spiritual paths.

Mission statement approved by the Pendle Hill Board of Trustees September 16, 2006

I walk through trees drenched with sunlight,

Enter the simple room -

Stark benches, arranged in a square -

Minimal comfort

(Though tissues are provided

For those who need to weep),

And enter a silence as deep and welcoming as black velvet

Here, on this altar of silence,

I am asked to place all the things

I know, love, cherish, value

Submit it to the searing flame,

Welcome Presence,

Which asks so little

And demands – everything;

Only to return it

Transformed.

Labor Day - the Day before travelling to Pendle Hill

Tomorrow we start in Pendle Hill.  

It may seem unusual to write two posts in one day, but we did not want this day to go by without recognising the warmth and hospitality of our friends Marcia and Tom, who have welcomed us into their hearts, their  home,their  family and circle of friends.  They have made our stay so enjoyable, been patient with us as I tease through differences between the US and the UK; sensitive to the differences between Wales and England; generous with their time and hospitality.  Above all, they have provided us with so much fun – you have been spared the  photographs  of Tom and Gerald in a cold stream, canoeing, sitting on the deck talking for hours………………………………… 

But here they are – a truly lovely couple, with a marvellous family. 

And Gwynedd Friends Meeting was as powerful and moving as we experienced it before, when we chaperoned a group of young Welsh and English Quakers as part of our Area Meeting American Exchange, during which we first came to know Tom and Marcia.

The beautiful, moving cemetery.  Some Friends averred their pacifist leanings, fought in the Civil 

War, but are still buried here - I find this a testimony of our Quaker tolerance.

These are the stables where the horses would be tethered before Meting for Worship

Entrance to Gwynedd Meeting.

So, our minds turn to Pendle Hill.  We have received very warm e-mails from Friends there – we know we will receive a warm welcome.  It will be interesting to see the extent to which we can maintain the blog in Pendle Hill.  Clearly, from many accounts, life there can be fully absorbing; but not, we hope, so all-consuming that we cannot report back to you on life there, and the very special place which is Pendle Hill.  We hope we can fully be of service.

Northern Pennsylvania

After the manicured quality of Eagles Mere, the rather more rustic, authentic living and working area around Dushore offered a refreshing contrast.  With our friends Tom and Marcia, we went to stay in a ‘cabin’ belonging to a family relative.  Actually, the term cabin is a misnomer – it really was a ‘modular’ or prefabricated house, erected on a stunning plot next to Black Creek – an ice cold stream running at the bottom of the garden.

Evidence of Hurricane Irene abounded in the State Parks.  Worlds End State Park had huge trees stuck in the river where usually children played on a little sandy beach on a bend; , picnic tables trapped in trees;  and a broken bridge which had kept people renting cabins trapped for twenty four hours longer than they intended.  We were told that another State Park Rickert’s Glen May not be open for Labor Day week-end (spelled like that!) – and we have learned that this is a very important public holiday for Americans, symbolising the end of the holiday period, the return to school, and almost a marker for the end of summer (although, as Alistair Cooke used to report regularly, temperatures in many parts of the US are still in the 80’s at this time!)

We travelled around the area, gaining a real sense, I think, of the pleasures of this part of America – the simple coffee houses, general stores,

covered bridges

and the stunning landscape of “endless mountains” , as this part of Pennsylvania is called.

Tom’s sister and husband had bought their plot as an idyllic rural retreat – at least in summer; in winter the area can receive one hundred inches of snow -  - that is eight feet of snow!.  Their rural idyll, and this simple, unadorned rural life is being challenged by a tapping of a huge gas reserve – at the top of the road from the cabin was such a gas main.  Farmers used to hard work and difficult conditions are going to be in receipt of thousands of dollars from the gas companies for leasing part of the land for many years to come.  Incomers are coming into the area – not families, but men from Texas and Oklahoma, who are used to working very hard, for days at a time, before taking days off to spend their considerable earnings in bars and clubs. All this was a source of conversation with neighbours, and evidenced in the adverts of financial planners.  A way of life, established over generations, is going to change.

When we attended Gwynedd Meeting on Sunday, an announcement was made about a meeting to protest at the gas development. This may prompt a post, on another occasion, of a more philosophical disposition, about Quakers and their dissenting role.

Finally, you may remember I wrote about a Meeting House we could have visited from Eagles Mere, but were prevented because of the storm.  Well,, visit it we   Here is the meeting house, and the poem I was moved to write:

Elkland Friends Meeting House, Sullivan County, PA.

                                             Open June – September

Meetings on 4^th Sunday of the month

We travel along the road -

Further than we thought we would need to-

Until suddenly,

Round a bend in the road,

There it is:

Heart-stoppingly simple building

Painted startling white

Set in a sward of tended green

Carefully maintained.

It has endured beating summer heat,

Piercing winter cold,

Snow.

A peek inside the clumsily painted frame

Reveals desert simplicity:

Floor, benches, stove -

Bare necessities, devoid of munificence or elegance,

Not lacking rustic charm.

A separate door

To earth closets,

Precisely labelled ‘Men’ and ‘Women’,

Is open for travellers in need of respite –

Practical Quaker hospitality.

Out at the back,

The simple low lying grey stones show family names

McCarty, Heeson, Pardoe,

Running down the years:

Faithful lives,

Across the generations.

I look over tree covered rolling hills,

Am moved to my very core.

“Who shall I send?”

“Send me.”