Patterns of My People

So I haven't blogged all summer! In large part, it's because I've been spending most of my discretionary computer time (as well as some time I should have been doing other things) researching my family history. A couple of readers have expressed interest in reading about what I found. I've found a lot, and believe me, you don't want to hear it all! Even to my own family the details can be overwhelming, so I won't go there much, in spite of the fascination some of those details hold for me.

Instead, I want pull the focus back and show you the entire tapestry, because, rather wondrously, I've discovered that there are clear patterns and trends, even across disparate family branches and several centuries. Detailed information about individuals has been amazing to discover, but these patterns feel more significant to my sense of self. I don't feel like a different person or anything, but I do have a stronger sense of belonging to a larger story. I could go on about that, but I won't for now -- maybe another day. Perhaps also another day, I'll share how I got started on this journey, if people are interested. I've only been doing it for a few months now and I'm still a little in awe of how much I've learned about my heritage in that short span of time.

For now however, here's a bird's eye view of the landscape and the people who gave me birth:

1) America's story is my story. Before I began this project, I thought that my family in America would trace back no further than the early - mid 1800's. Most of the immigration stories I knew about came from this period. Indeed, most of the branches of my family did immigrate during the 19th century. However, one of the earliest discoveries I made was that I had many ancestors who came to Pennsylvania on ships commissioned by William Penn to bring Quaker settlers to his new charter colony in the 1680's.* One even came as an indentured servant, which no doubt seems more romantic and adventurous to me than it did to him! He was the bastard son of an English nobleman who couldn't inherit a dime, poor guy. That was on my father's side. Later, I discovered that some of my mother's ancestors were in colonial New England as early as the1630's! Can't get much more "founding father" than that unless your people came on the Mayflower. So I'm all in, right from the start -- the good, the bad and the ugly of our country's history is my history as well. That's something I didn't know until just a few months ago.

* I did not have even the faintest inkling of my Quaker ancestors when I became a Quaker a few years ago. The last practicing Quakers in the family, Eli and Ann Packer, died in Gratiot County, Michigan 1867 and 1871. The faith did not survive in the second generation in central Michigan, probably because there were no Friends Meetings there at that time. Although Eli and Ann both had Quaker ancestry reaching all the way back to the time of George Fox, the memory of our Quaker roots was lost in my father's family until I uncovered it this spring. I got to share this information at the family reunion this summer, so now it is remembered again. :o)

2) I come from rural and village people. My ancestors were farmers (many, many farmers), blacksmiths, millers, small-town day laborers, wool packers, weavers, etc. These were the professions of the men, of course, but my female ancestors were of the same stock -- they were the daughters, and then wives of the men who plied these trades. The women's lives are, if anything, even easier to imagine, as they likely varied less according to the trade of their men. They were gardeners, food preparers, livestock tenders, dress-makers, healers, neighbors, friends, pioneers, and perhaps most predominantly, mothers. They were the mothers of 5, 8, 10, 14 children. Most of them, until more recent generations, buried at least one child and sometimes several. A number of them gave their own lives for posterity, dying in childbirth or from complications thereof. These women married later than I'd been led to believe by popular history. Certainly, there were a few 17 and 18 year old brides, but not all that many. 19 was a more common age, with many entering their first marriage in their early 20's, and marrying men who were, on average, just a few years older. (There were some exceptions of course, especially where a man who was a widower wed a never-before-married young woman.)

My nearly complete lack of urban roots did surprise me a bit, given the broad scope of time and places and people involved. Yet even those who disembarked on American shores in New York City seemed to have set out for the country nearly immediately. My few wealthy and well-connected ancestors (remember the bastard son?) were landed gentry -- rich country folk, but still country. With nearly 500 individuals in my family tree so far (not all of those are direct descendants -- some are siblings, etc.) I can think of only one branch of the family that seemed to stay in a city for several generations, and that was colonial Springfield, Massachusetts. I'm not sure if Springfield counted as a "big city" back then or not! It was certainly not rural much beyond the founding years, however.

3) I don't have a single ancestor who came through Ellis Island. So many people ask about this! It's one of the first questions I got at family reunions this summer: "Do we have any family who came through Ellis Island?" Nope. Many people don't realize that Ellis Island didn't open as an immigration point until 1892. (I didn't know this either, until I looked it up.) All the branches of my family were in the New World by that time, save one: my Norwegian great-great grandfather was a stow away on a cargo ship in 1898. I believe he simply slipped off the boat and into the crowds on the dock. An undocumented immigrant...

4) I am a Northerner. So far, I've found not a single direct connection to the American South or West. Michigan, Ohio, New York, Massachusetts, Pennsylvania and Ontario account for probably 90% of my North-American born family members. The remaining 10% would be from a few other New England states, Quebec, and Indiana. I think that about covers it. Certainly some of my ancestors' descendants or siblings migrated south and west, but no one that led to me, as far as I know. I may have a Native American g-g-g grandmother, but I have only the say-so of my great-grandmother and her sister regarding this, and they are no longer around to interrogate. I know how often this kind of family lore is untrue, so I'd very much like to prove it or disprove it somehow. But even if it's true, she was said to be Ojibway, so still a Northerner!

5) My European ancestors were northerners as well, from England, Scotland, the pre-German states, Ireland, Eastern France, Norway, Finland. No Spaniards, no Italians, no Austrians, no eastern Europeans. One long-ago ancestor, who was quite the adventurer, had a Persian wife and children to whom he left his entire estate when he died. Nice for them, but I'm sure it didn't go down well with his English wife and family, from whom I am descended! So no Persians either, darn it! ;o)

6) No Catholics. I have not been able to confirm a single Catholic ancestor thus far. I do have some Irish potato-famine immigrants (on my father's side) whose religion I don't know, but my earlier Irish immigrant ancestors were protestants. I do know that by the second generation in American, my potato-famine Irish folks were not practicing Catholics, so I don't feel I can assume that Irish = Catholic in their case. Of course going back before the Reformation (which I have not done) most of my European ancestors would have been Catholic, but clearly we've been Protestant (or non-religious in some cases) for a very long time.

7) And the Protestants were often outliers! With Quakers and Restorationists on my father's side, and Puritans and Seventh Day Adventists on my mothers side, I seem to come by my contrary religious tendencies naturally!* One Puritan ancestor converted to Baptist very early on in the Massachusetts Bay Colony and was involved in Baptist "church planting" north of Boston. Baptists might seem pretty mainstream today, but his erstwhile fellow Puritans didn't think so in the 16oo's! One of this Baptist's descendants became a prominent leader in the early Seventh Day Adventist Church in Michigan. Another (the sister of the Adventist) became a follower of Joseph Smith and married an early Mormon elder. (It's thanks to her descendants that this branch of the family is so well researched!)

8) I don't know as much as I would like to know. A sad, but predictable truth: Most of my ancestors remain anonymous to me. I might know when and where they were born or died, how many children they had and perhaps what they did for a living, but that is all. Some left tantalizing clues, such as the obituary of a 4th great grandmother which contains this phrase: "Though surrounded my many depressing conditions, she won and held the respect of all..." I long to know what the "depressing conditions" were, but I probably never will.

9) I know more about some ancestors than I ever dreamed possible. I literally put my face in my hands and gave a little sob when I read this about my 10th great grandmother: "Marjorie was moderately active in the Women's Meeting at Middletown (PA). She served on five marriage clearness committees and one committee to labor with a friend who had failed to uphold Friends' principles." Reading about her serving on clearness committees for marriage over 300 years ago -- something I might do today in the very same tradition -- made her suddenly seem very real and dear to me. Here are some other things I know about Marjorie: Her first husband (my 10th great grandfather) died very shortly after their arrival in Pennsylvania, leaving 30-something Marjorie with 6 children, ages 16, 15, 14, 9, 6, and 3. She remarried (quickly!) in 1684 to a man whose wife had died on the voyage to Pennsylvania. Theirs was the first marriage under the care of Middletown Friends Meeting, which still exists today. Later in life she and her husband became involved in a painful schism among Friends, but Marjorie was later reconciled and was buried in Middletown Friends Cemetery. Her husband never came back into unity with Friends, but his step-son -- the one who had been 6 when his biological father died -- requested that he be buried next to Marjorie. The request was granted. Perhaps only other Friends will appreciate how easy and satisfying it is for me to imagine this request being brought before the Men's Meeting by a loving son, the ensuing Spirit-led deliberation among those in attendance, and the gracious outcome. I think about Marjorie sometimes as I'm going about my daily life and wonder what she would think of me and my world.

10) The tapestry grows exponentially. I'm struck by this: My mother's ancestry -- all of it -- is only half of mine. Same for my father, of course. My grandparents each share only a quarter. My two sisters and I are the only people on Earth who share this specific history as our full heritage, yet we share many of our more recent ancestors with hundreds of others, and each of our distant ancestors with thousands or even millions of people alive today. Our children share our lineage as well, but they have double the number of ancestors we do! My own children's ancestry stitches on the Caribbean Islands and the continent of Africa, making their lineage stretch across nearly half the globe. My youngest sister's new baby will someday trace his father's roots through Mexico and on to wherever else that leads him -- probably Spain, other places in southern Europe, and Indigenous Mezo-America.

The richness of all of this astounds me. I may have traced only a couple of family branches back to the 16th century, but of course they all go back that far, and farther: to the beginning of civilization, to the beginning of humanity itself. We are also growing forward. Someday, about 300 years from now, my 10th great granddaughters will walk this earth, perhaps here in Michigan, perhaps in a far-off land. Probably both, as I'm likely to have quite a few 10th great grandchildren! I will be a tiny part of their tapestries, woven in with all those who came before me, and all those yet to come, gathered and joined to another whole cloth with every generation in an ever-growing family.

They Were Good... and Flawed

This is the book I'm reading now. I'm enjoying it on an intellectual level -- it's written in a scholarly, yet accessible way. On a personal level, it's by turns inspiring and disheartening. The author, John Moretta, is writing as a historian, rather than a Quaker. (He is not a Quaker, as far as I know.) Thus, in addition to relating the bravery, sacrifices and accomplishments of Penn and early Friends, he has no qualms about pointing out the ways in which they failed to live up to their ideals in the New World. The "Holy Experiment" was not exactly a smashing success. Moretta is not censorious about this; he reminds readers of the conditions -- social, geographic, demographic, historical -- that make their difficulties easier to understand.

Nevertheless, I can't help but feel bad for Penn and the early settlers. They were so sincere in their desire to do things right -- to be an example of what Love and Light can do and to model tolerance and harmony among diverse groups of Christians. Guess what they did instead? They behaved like human beings. Penn played the class card much too heavily and got huffy when the farmers and artisans who mostly populated his colony resented him for it. For their part, the colonists almost immediately challenged Penn's authority over the colony and flaunted laws in such a way that the king threatened to rescind Penn's charter. This could have meant the end of the religious toleration they so cherished, among other things. (In their almost allergic reaction to authority and their refusal to be "managed", I reflected that modern Quakers must come by this trait naturally!) Once the colonial Assembly in Pennsylvania managed to wrest control almost completely from Penn, the leaders in the Assembly set about consolidating their power: changing voting requirements so as to disenfranchise many non-Quakers in Philadelphia and lower the bar for rural residents, who were largely Quaker.

Sigh.

Plus some of them owned African slaves at this time, and few were speaking out against it. but that's old news to me. I was prepared for *that*. What I wasn't prepared for was all the mundane ways in which they were..., well, kinda like Quakers today. They were righteous in all the good and bad senses of that word. They loved God. They disagreed about what "God" was, but they loved It/Him. They took their values seriously and tried to live up to them. They failed at that sometimes. They got jealous and nursed grudges, then realized how painful and wrong that was and made up. (Or not.) They got involved in religious schisms. They griped about Penn behind his back, then happily threw him a big party and parade when he finally showed up after too many years in England. Penn griped about the colonists to his friends, but he clearly loved them and was distressed and genuinely surprised when they exhibited un-Friendly behaviors. They judged and forgave. Families could be harmonious or troubled or both, depending on the day/month/year.

Someone in my Meeting gave spoken ministry this week about how "the universe doesn't keep score", and how that was liberating for him. I immediately thought of this book and about how we humans LOVE to keep score. We can't seem to help it. Even by being inspired by and disappointed in my Quaker forebears, I'm engaging in a kind of score-keeping: Went to prison for beliefs -- 10 pts.; treated Native Americans like fellow humans -- 10 pts.; lobbied for religious toleration (even for Catholics!) -- 5 pts.; didn't decry slavery soon enough -- minus 15 pts.; bickered too much -- minus 3 pts.; Penn a bit of an elitist/colonists bitchy about it -- minus 5 pts.; etc.

The fact is, people (and groups of people) with high ideals get held to a higher standard -- maybe not by the universe, but by other people, and usually themselves as well. That's how it should be. Yet what should be our response when they/we fall or fail? Should we proclaim "hypocracy" and make snide comments? Should we forgive all? Perhaps we should simply Love, and tell the truth. Great -- that's one more ideal to live up to!

I'm looking forward to any comments on this one. There is more to be said about what good can be accomplished simply by trying, not dependent on succeeding, among other things. I may add my own comments as I think more about it, but it's past midnight as I write this and I can feel my brain shutting down... Good night!

Best Bible Analogy Ever

I found this gem in the current issue of Friends Journal:

"I have heard [it said] that the Bible is a crutch. A crutch provides support to a broken individual, and since the Bible does so admirably, there is no problem with the assertion. However, it is appalling to remove a crutch from someone who is using it, and it is alarming to beat someone over the head with our own crutch. ...[P]lease avoid violence to or with this venerable text."

(From "Addressing the Differences Among Friends" by Howie Baker, Friends Journal, Dec. 2009)

Well said, Friend Howie.

Spiritual Liberation and the "O" Word

I spent some time this weekend on a solo Mother's Day Retreat. My family graciously excused me for 24 hours to rejuvenate and relax. Yesterday, I spent some time with Philadelphia Yearly Meeting's Faith and Practice, a sort of "handbook" for Quakers. In the "Advices" section (page 82 of the 2002 edition or here, in section I) I read this:

As death comes to our willfulness, a new life is formed in us, so that we are liberated from distractions and frustrations, from fears, angers and guilts. Thus we are enabled to sense the Inward Light and to follow it's leadings.

I am struck by how I usually get this backwards. I've operated on the assumption that if I could just listen carefully enough to the Inward Light, it would lead me to actions that would rid me of distraction, frustration, fear, etc. In my experience that this does not work very well! I've blamed my own spiritual weakness, or a lack of time to devote to worship. Both of these might indeed be factors, but this passage leads me to consider the possibility that there might be steps I can take even when the Light burns dim within. (Perhaps especially then.)

I suspect this is where the word "obedience" rears it's ugly head. How do I hasten the death of my willfulness? I'm still mulling this over, but I'm pretty sure it will involve obedience of some sort. This could be my fundementalist upbringing showing, but I don't think so.

Like most modern Americans, the word "obedience" has negative connotations for me. In modern usage, it suggests that the benefit of the obedience accrues primarily to the one being obeyed and implies a threat if obedience is not forth-coming. Obedience is what slaves render to masters, children to parents (especially cruel ones), employees to bosses. But in spiritual matters, it must have a more nuanced meaning. What has God to gain from my obedience? Another piece of the "body" (I Corinthians 12) I suppose, but it would seem I myself, and those around me, have much to gain as well. And why would Spirit punish me? Any "punishment" is of my own making -- I miss out on something or end up in an unpleasant situation. So obedience to (with?) the Divine must be of a different character than obedience to masters, parents and bosses.

Obedience with. I like that -- it seems mature and wise. Come to think of it, I obey countless "rules" every day simply because they are wise. I follow many rules in gardening so as to ensure a good harvest; I try to make sure the dishes are done before I go to bed so as not to start the next day two steps behind; I look both ways for cars before I cross the street so as to avoid injury or death. I didn't always know these rules, or understand why they are important. I've killed many a seedling out of ignorance or carelessness. I've learned the law of the dishes the hard way on more than one occasion. Ignorance of it did not excuse me from the consequences! Obedience with Spirit must be like this. No arbitrary laws or lightning bolts. Just putting God at the center of life instead of myself, deciding on faith to trust the rules that decision brings into focus and obeying them. What have I to loose but my distraction, frustration, fear, anger and guilt? If I only loose one off that list, I'll take it! As for a greater ability to sense the Light and follow it's leadings... One thing at a time, I think.

Defending the Faith

Earlier this week, in casual conversation with two other moms from Brianna's basketball team, I used the descriptive phrase "a woman from my Quaker Meeting". (My fellow Friends may already see where this is going.) While I sometimes say "my church" to avoid mucking up an otherwise normal conversation, it doesn't seem fully honest somehow, so I usually try to "speak plainly" as we Quakers are encouraged to do. On this occasion, my plain speech completely derailed the conversation about backyard chickens.

"Is that pretty much the same as Mennonites?"
"Well no, not really. Mennonites were around before Quakers."

It never got much less awkward than that. This is a homeschool basketball program which, while open to all homeschoolers, is run by members of the big Christian homeschool group in town. Our faith doesn't quite fit the norm of this group, which is tends to be theologically conservative. I don't mind being different, but I am just getting to know these women. I like them, and I want them to like me. I want them to be comfortable having their kids be friends with my daughter. Ideally, I would would choose to have them know me better before revealing all the details of how our theologies might differ. I would choose to have them see/hear my life speak for my beliefs before my voice. I know from experience that deep, satisfying discussions about faith are possible between friends when there is assurance that the relationship will endure in spite of difference. I don't yet have that assurance with them, thus I was wary. Alas, my reluctance to have this conversation resulted in a weak and probably confusing explanation of Quaker faith and practice.

So it was awkward, but we muddled through. I wasn't the only one feeling the discomfort. One of the women kept saying "Well, we'll all end up in the same place in the end -- we'll all be one big family." I smiled and nodded, but I should have made it more clear how very much I agree with her; I really wish I had. In any case, I believe our nascent friendships survived the incident. For that I am grateful.

I'm left not knowing quite what to do with this experience. Would a more confident and clear description of Quaker theology have served the situation better? I'm not so sure -- it might have sparked debate or defensiveness, which I don't believe we're ready for. Yet I feel a little bad about my halting and awkward comments regarding the Quaker tradition that I respect so greatly. This is a matter for some seasoning I suppose. Something to think about in a quiet time or to bring into the Light of worship.

If anyone is willing to share, I'm curious to hear other people's similar experiences. Not just from Quakers either -- I'm sure people of every faith must find themselves "outed" as the oddball belief from time to time. How have you responded and how did it turn out?

Everyday Sacred

For the longest time, I needed an apron. I spend a substantial amount of time in the kitchen, and going apron-less was proving hard on my clothes. The aprons I already owned were of the stiff, canvass, men's grill-out style. They bunched around my waist and were too big around the neck. They're simply not comfortable to leave on for any task besides cooking, so I tended to take them off during a break in the kitchen action, then forgot to put them back on when I went in to finish up. I needed a nice woman's apron -- one with full coverage, soft fabric, and a narrower waist. One that I could leave on all day if need be. But there were two problems. First, I couldn't find anything for sale that seemed to fit my needs. Second, I had a mental block: it seemed so 1950's house-wifey to wear something like that! To make matters worse, I often wear long skirts, so I needed one with a full skirt to properly protect my clothes. Forget 1950's housewife, think Amish farm wife! Eek!

The I attended Friends General Conference Summer Gathering. I participated in a week-long workshop (run by Robin M.) that addressed, among other things, ways in which contemporary Friends can find new meaning in the practices of early Quakers. One of the peculiarities of early Friends was that they did not celebrate holidays. Partly this was because of the pagan origin of many holidays, but also it reflected their belief that every day was sacred, that every act and every moment should bring us closer to The Light, to God.

Now, in practice, I'm not very good at remembering the sacredness of mundane moments. Not many people are. This is why we create rituals and yes, even holidays -- to remind us of the sacredness of life and this moment. Yet there is danger in ritual as well. Early Friends were harsh critics of "empty forms": rituals that were performed mindlessly out of duty or habit. Rather than sacred, such rote rituals were a denial of the Living Spirit within. Thus, to the extent that Quakers had rituals at all, they tended to serve some practical purpose as well. For example, plain clothing, without extraneous trim or complicated styling, reminded them of their faith, but also served to simplify their morning routine, ostensibly leaving more mental space for God and more money for good causes.

Thinking about early Quakers and the sacredness of daily life provided me with a shift in my frame of reference. Ruining my clothing was wasteful and inconsistent with the testimonies of simplicity and stewardship, but that wasn't quite enough to get me past my cultural hang-ups about aprons. The concept of every day being sacred was the clincher. I would make the apron myself, and both the making of it and the wearing of it would be a sacred act.

When I put on my apron, I'm reminded of why I do so -- to be a good steward of my clothing, sure, but also to provide sustenance for my family, to cook (as often as possible) in a way that is consistent with my ecological and community values, and to remember to make mental room for the Sacred, the Divine, even in the most mundane of tasks. Who'd have thought an apron could do all that?

I still feel a tad house-wifey when I wear it. (I'm thankful I'm not called to wear it outside the house!) Yet, in truth, the slight discomfort is probably a good thing. Without it, I wouldn't remember all that the apron signifies.

Photo credit: Brianna Charlot

Quakers and the Afterlife

In the comments under "Gathered in the Spirit", Kimberly (Ma) asked about the Quaker conception of Heaven and the afterlife. I decided to make the answer (such as it is) a separate post, so that I can easily link to resources for anyone interested. I'm no expert in the subject, and I've tried to frame my comments in a way that avoids making blanket statements about what any particular sect of Friends believe. Quakers are notorious for having a wide variety of takes on many issues of theology. Additional input from Friends in the comments is welcome.

First of all, there are several branches of Quakers, so it's hard to say what "Quakers" believe. Evangelical Friends would probably have beliefs about heaven, hell and salvation that are very similar to other evangelicals in the U.S. Among FGC (Friends General Conference) Friends (theologically liberal) and FUM (Friends United Meeting) Friends (with a theology somewhere in between -- "mainstream"?), I think there is a wide range of belief.

My Meeting is affiliated with FGC, and I suspect that few FGC Friends take a literal view of the Biblical descriptions of heaven and hell. Some would probably describe themselves as agnostic on the issue, not really knowing what the afterlife holds, but having some sense that there will be "something more" -- a union with God/Spirit/The Universe, or something similar. Those with a more traditional view of God and the afterlife probably believe something akin to the argument put forward by Phillip Gulley and James Mulholland, Quaker pastors in the moderate tradition. (I think they are affiliated with FUM, but I'm not sure about that.) They authored a compelling book on the subject of salvation: If Grace is True: Why God Will Save Every Person. Their view of God and Christ is similar to most mainstream Christians, but as the title suggests, they reject the notion that those who do not accept salvation through Christ in this life will be thrown into a literal hell. I feel comfortable in positing that the views of most Quakers in my branch fall somewhere along a scale from the Gulley/Mulholland view to a serious doubt about the existence of any afterlife at all. (With lots of people somewhere in between.)

Quakers (of the liberal and perhaps moderate stripes) do tend to put more emphasis on the creation of God's Kingdom on Earth. Many would describe humans as being in "co-creation" with The Divine in this endeavor. In that sense, the Religious Society of Friends really is more of a "here and now" religion than many other Christian denominations in the United States.

Clear as mud? :o) Hope that helps answer Kimberly's question. If Quaker readers feel I've made a mis-characterization or have anything to add that might be helpful or interesting, please comment!

Interested in visiting a Friend's meeting? Find one here.