Today was potluck Sunday at our Quaker Meeting. At the rise of Meeting, I joined the flow of Friends into the kitchen to prepare the food I had brought to share. Quakers have long been proponents of gender equality in both public and private life, and I love to observe the strong, loving marriages in our meeting that are based on equality, generosity, respect, sharing, and sometimes even (dare I say it?) mutual submission. Nevertheless, on potluck Sunday, most of the folks in the kitchen are female. The men pitch in equally for clean-up, but traditions surrounding food preparation run strong, even among liberal Quakers. The age-old ritual of women joyfully working together in the kitchen is repeated month after month in our meeting, as it is in churches, community centers and social halls everywhere.
As I chopped my pineapple, chatting and laughing with women I love so dearly, I felt swept up in the flow of female traditions – the good traditions that can coexist with the changes that free us from the more oppressive customs of the past. I felt connected in love and strength, not only to the women around me, but to generations past, from my own mother and her friends in the small town church of my childhood, to the millions of long-forgotten women who made the best of limited life options by making food preparation a communal project whenever possible. I felt that I belonged there in that kitchen in the best possible way. I belonged to the community of Friends I was with; I belonged to my female ancestors; I belonged to God in all Her creative and delicious glory.
8 comments:
What a rich post! I almost felt like I was in the kitchen with you. I think you captured well the importance of a space where women can gather in warmth and community--there's something sacred about it!
I know little about Quaker traditions--I'm looking forward to learning more through your blog!
Beautiful! I know the feeling you're speaking of - one of belonging and of being connected to all who have come before us and all who will carry on after us. It's magical. And you've captured it so well.
Some traditions ARE traditions because people love and value them too much to give them up. This brought back fond memories of Christmas and Thanksgiving dinners of my childhood, watching my aunts and my mother. Of all the kitchen hours shared in the Sumner house with your aunts and your grandmother. And that little, ugly, cramped church kitchen in the "igloo"!!! What wonderful, warm love was produced by plain, often quite poor, women in that kitchen!! I had forgotten. Thanks for the memories.
Mom
This post actually made me sad. As I've left the religion of my youth, I do not have that wonderful intergenerational support group. And I don't know how to find another as organized religion is out of my life now.
niamh,
I missed it for a long time before I found it again at our Quaker meeting. I hope you are able to find that sense of community somewhere in your life. It need not be through a religious group, but I know it can be hard to find in other places. Good luck!
Hi, I noticed a post of your on monthering message boards about GBD and I shared the sentiments of your response. I enjoyed reading your blog. I have twin girls born in June 2002 also. I am in the process of a makeover of my Christian faith, coming out of a fundamentalist worldview. And I am intrigued by the way you describe the Quakers- sounds like something I'd like to be a part of. I look forward to learning more and reading more.
Stacey
Welcome Stacey! Thanks for reading. I grew up in a bascially fundementialist church too. Wonderful people for the most part (the rest of my family still attends), but I came to the point where I could no longer accept the theology. I hope to write more about Quakerism soon.
Stephanie
Hi, Steph!
I just wanted to say that I have also experienced the feeling of being connected to those who have come before and those who will come after, although not in the kitchen.
When Rick (my husband) was serving in Iraq for 8 months, I was blessed through the stories of other women (mom and grandma, to name a couple) who had experienced the same situation, although theirs were likely more difficult than mine.
I found comfort knowing I was then part of something much bigger than my own situation.
I found comfort in knowing that women in our family, as well as women all over the world, have been sharing the experience of waiting for their husbands to return from war since the first war began.
Many more women will experience this in the future as well, I'm afraid. Hopefully they can also take comfort in knowing they are one of many women who have remained strong, providing the support and faithfulness that their husbands so desparately long for.
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