A Beautiful Tapestry
Indianapolis First Friends Quaker Meeting
Guest speaker Eric Baker
June 25, 2023
Good morning. First, I want to say thank you to Bob and to Beth, for asking me to speak today. It’s a responsibility I don’t take lightly. Also, I was so encouraged by Bob’s message last week, on challenging us around the parable of the Prodigal Son. I think today’s topic is, in many ways, a continuation of that message.
I grew up being taught that “the least of these” that Jesus talks about in the scripture we just heard, were people who lived in a very different world than me – the inner city, maybe, or Africa. And that “serving” them was an act of charity, my “good deed” that would somehow win me favor with God. I’m thankful that my understanding of this passage in the book of Matthew has evolved over the years. But I’ll get back to that a little later.
I was 10 years old, and in fifth grade. The most important part of the school day was, without a doubt, recess. And for 5th grade boys, your standing, your rank within that social system, was measured by one thing: dodgeball. Everyday, recess began the same way. The teacher whose straw was drawn for recess duty, picked two team captains, usually two of the most popular and athletic boys in the class. They would go to their respective “square” on the dodgeball court, and all the other boys would line up on the sidewalk. Alternating picks, the captains would put together their team, one boy at a time.
One day in particular, I stood on that sidewalk, and watched as the long line of boys dwindled, one by one, down to only a few of us. Now, while I played baseball and basketball as a kid, you may not be surprised to know that I was known more for being a bit of a music nerd. And this reputation seemed to be very familiar to the two captains that day. Little by little, it finally came to be that only one other boy stood there with me. The captain whose turn it was to pick looked at both of us, sizing us up, until he decided to pick the other boy. Embarrassed and disappointed as I was, I didn’t waste any time before running to the team which was now mine, by default. And the game quickly started.
On this day, I must have mostly hung out on one of the back corners, because, as luck would have it, just as I was one of the last boys to be chosen for a team, I began to realize that I was one of the last boys still standing on the court. I watched as my teammates and opponents alike got pelted with that red, rubber dodgeball. I can still hear the sound in my head of rubber hitting blacktop. Finally there were only a handful of us left. As it happened this day, the captain of the opposing team was still in the game, and was having his way on the dodgeball court. Soon I looked around and saw only one of my teammates still standing. But when I noticed that the opposing captain had the ball, and was winding up to throw at one of us, I instinctively knew it was coming my way. For some reason, and to this day I can’t really tell you why, instead of running or preparing to jump out of the way, I just stood there, maybe to try and take the punishment like a man? I’m not sure. But that red ball came hurdling at me at what seemed like 100 miles an hour. And while it could have hit me in the face, or the leg, where it landed was square in my chest. I have to tell you, I’ve never been more proud of cat-like reflexes in my life, because instead of letting it bounce off, I wrapped my arms around it, catching it in full embrace. Now, I hate to have to explain the climactic punchline here, but in case you’ve never played dodgeball, when I caught the ball, it meant that I had, to everyone’s shock and amazement, gotten the opposing captain out of the game. As I remember the story, everyone on my team was both elated and completely surprised that the kid who was chosen last, had defeated the popular team captain across that white line. On that day, I knew I belonged on that dodgeball court.
Elementary and middle school can be a cruel place. And I’m glad to have not only survived that time, but to also have grown up to realize how petty some of those little “popularity contests” really were. However, one thing that I think probably hasn’t changed, is that we still like to belong, to something – a community, a neighborhood, a team, a “tribe”…a family. Most groups like this are built on or grow around having something in common. For example, I’m a lifelong (and longsuffering) fan of the Cincinnati Reds baseball team. They’ve been playing pretty well over the last month or so, but let me tell you, there have been many, many terrible years. Those of you who follow baseball know what I’m talking about. But in the end, that’s not what matters to me. I’m not going to walk away because my team isn’t playing well. I have a sense of identity in following this team.
Some of you know a bit about my story. I grew up in a conservative, evangelical Christian family, and we attended church every time the doors were open, as the saying goes. After high school, I went to a conservative Christian college, and then vocationally, went on to serve full-time on staff at several evangelical churches – the last of which was a large, non-denominational church just north of Indianapolis.
One thing that has always struck me about all the churches where I served, as well as nearly every church I’d encountered during that time, was that to “belong”, to be received in that community, meant that you had to believe certain things. In other words, “belonging” was contingent on “believing”. In fact, what you believed – about God, about the Bible, and about how people were supposed to live and act and talk and vote – that was key to whether or not you could count yourself as a member of a particular faith community. Not only that, but in some churches, what they believed, sometimes called “Statements of Faith”, were even printed on big signs or banners, and put on the walls of the sanctuary or foyer, not to be missed! There was no mistaking what they believed in this church or that church. And if you wanted to belong, you needed to strongly consider what it would take to get you to believe “those” things.
I remember the first time I walked in the doors here at First Friends. I was, I’ll be honest, not very familiar with Quaker meetings. I think, out of pure instinct, I started looking for those “belief banners” on the walls. After scouring the walls and coming up unsuccessful, I thought, “I’m sure these statements of faith are probably mentioned and explained in every service. I’ll just listen.” After all, I had been the director of music and “programming” at the large church. I knew how important it was to get these “what we believe” talking points out to the congregation every week!
Imagine my surprise then, as a former director of church programming, when I sat down in these pews for the first time, listened to the minister read a scripture, and then…sit down…only to be followed by…silence? Surely this can’t be right, I thought. Surely someone has missed their queue. As I sat there, I thought “Wow, is it getting hot in here?” I was sitting toward the back that day, and I couldn’t help but notice that, even as I was uncomfortable, no one else seemed to be bothered by the “space”. Whatever “this” was, I was determined to white knuckle my way through it.
That story seems funny now. I myself was so programmed to expect certain things in a church setting, that coming here to First Friends really forced me out of that familiar comfort zone.
Ok, so you may ask, “Alright Eric, but what does this have to do with belonging, with connecting with others?”
As you may know, while there aren’t “belief banners” on the walls here at the Meetinghouse, there are certain values that Quakers speak about and prioritize in nearly everything we do. We refer to these values as the “SPICES”. Values of Simplicity, Peace, Integrity, Community, Equality, and Stewardship. How these values play out in the world is really the expression of our faith as Quakers.
One reason I think many churches or faith communities “over-program” their gatherings, is that they want to make it very clear that, “this is what we believe about God, and how he speaks to people”. And what’s more, maybe even “This is who we believe God speaks to…and who he doesn’t.”
The real meaning of allowing space and silence in our gatherings didn’t really occur to me for several years. I see it now as an opportunity for all of us to listen, in silence, to what the Divine might be saying to us. Our values as Quakers tell us there is no barrier, no “disqualification” on who God might speak to.
One of the things I love most about this community is the diversity of our experiences, of our perspectives, of backgrounds, of passions. We are, in so many ways, a beautiful tapestry, a patchwork of differences and similarities.
Back in the Spring of 2022, I found myself discouraged by a series of new laws and efforts by legislators, both nationally and here in Indiana, that seemed designed to marginalize certain groups of people – to squelch what I saw as basic rights, and generally make life harder for some. After sitting in my discouragement for a bit, I realized I could respond in one of two ways: I could complain. And hey, if I chose to complain on social media, I wouldn’t even have to leave my house! And let me tell you, I noticed that MANY, MANY people chose this response.
Or, I could consider what I might do. I’m not a member of any law-making body. But I could still do something. So, I decided to create a group, and invite anyone who might want to join. I wanted to be with people, face to face, for the sake of intentional interaction and conversation. The initial purpose, simple as it might sound, was to go for walks together in green spaces across Indianapolis, and talk about what each of us saw as important issues facing those in our communities. And since then, the group, and the conversation has grown. Because we are different people, I’ve learned things I never knew before. I’ve been challenged in all sorts of ways. And not only have we talked about a whole plethora of topics, and brainstormed how to elevate and support certain causes and groups of people, how to support the LGBTQ+ community, how to support public school teachers, how to stand up for those we see on the margins of society, but… we’ve also gotten involved! Some among the group have met for peaceful protests. We’ve connected with candidates running for statewide offices. We took part in a cleanup effort for several city blocks on the near eastside. We created a book club. And who knows what ideas will hatch from this group in the future. But let me tell you – I am a better, more informed, and ultimately more fulfilled person for having connected with others and “gotten in the game” in this way. Especially when I think about how I would have felt if I was simply complaining, all by myself, on the sidelines.
Remember our values, as Quakers, that I referenced earlier – the SPICES? Sure, I could and do, on my own, work to be a more peaceful person, to be a person of integrity, and so on. But how much more meaning, value, and encouragement is added to my efforts, as I hear about Mary Blackburn’s passion for caring for the environment in our Meditational Woods? Or Jim Donahue’s leadership with the food pantry efforts? Or the creativity and hard work of folks like Ed and Paula Kassig, and Nancy Scott, in caring for refugees and people in very difficult circumstances, coming from other parts of the world? And this is only scratching the surface.
Let me return to something I said earlier – about this community here at First Friends being a beautiful tapestry. It’s something I find not only beautiful, but alive, and life-giving. Here’s the thing, though: I can’t just make a statement like that, and then sit down. No, if that’s true, that the beauty in this community is in our patchwork of perspectives, backgrounds, experiences, and even beliefs, then what are the implications here? What are the things we can do to help sustain this beautiful community?
Well, I want to leave us with two things: A challenge, and an encouragement. First, the challenge.
If you consider yourself a part of this body, of this community, this essentially challenges you to see the value in other people. This is how we begin to serve one another. Sometimes we refer to this as recognizing “that of God in everyone”, a phrase first coined by Quaker founder George Fox, and brought into our vernacular several centuries later by Quaker author and historian Rufus Jones. If we truly believe this, that there is “that of God in everyone”, and then seek to live it out, it calls us to recognize God’s light in people that might look like us, but, more importantly, people that don’t. We might initially identify or naturally associate with people who think like we do, who enjoy or partake in similar things as us. But, living into this hard thing, recognizing that of God in everyone, means that we get off that well-worn path, and seek to welcome and befriend the stranger, the outcast, the outsider, just as Jesus talked about in Matthew chapter 25. In fact, what if “serving the least of these” simply begins by recognizing God’s light in everyone we meet? And I’ll take that a step further: If I acknowledge that of God within you, I don’t just seek to serve you in a way that checks a box for me. No – I recognize your humanity – what makes you unique. How can I learn from your experience, your passions, your perspectives?
And now, the encouragement. If this community really is a beautiful tapestry, then I have good news: You belong! To reference Jim Kartholl’s children’s message from last Sunday, everyone is “included” on the invitation list! There is no secret handshake, no password at the door, no unspoken expectation that you live by some dogma or set of specific theological beliefs written on a banner somewhere. And here’s the even better news: Not only do you belong, but you matter. Your voice matters. Your perspective matters. Your background, your experience, your passions…they all matter. In other words, regardless of who you are or where you’re coming from, you have something unique to contribute. And this community is made better and more valuable because you are here.
As we prepare to go into a time of Waiting Worship, I’ll point us to the following queries:
First, How am I seeking to recognize “that of God” in people who are in my life?
Are there specific ways that I feel drawn to make the world a more beautiful place?
How might I connect with others, either here at First Friends, or in other circles of my life, that could challenge me to live out the SPICES in meaningful and creative ways?