Sunday, December 25, 2016
I'm up on these folks, so I thought I'd share this awesome poster which I took right off their website (http://www.quakers4re.org). The reason I'm up on them is because they knew about my plays, Quaker Plays for First Days, and when a Bolivian Quaker was up looking for resources, they showed it to her; she asked if she could translate them. I was honored. Of course you can translate my plays! If people use them worldwide, I'm famous in the Quaker world.
Of course, the Quaker world is small, so it doesn't take much to be well-known. I might be the only, or one of the only, Quaker playwrights. But that, too, is an honor. I might do some more of it.
I look forward to the Spanish version of Quaker Plays for First Days. I also look forward to a generally better-organized First-Day resource collection. I'm glad that the internet makes this possible, and that people have moved in to fill the gap.
In general I use this site to talk about developments with Quaker plays and with my own experiences with Quakerism. I've been moving lately. I moved to Lubbock, TX, four years ago, and have just moved to Cloudcroft, NM. The best I can figure, my new meeting is Las Cruces, 90 miles away. But I can live with that. They have a beautiful old adobe house on the old road, which in Las Cruces is Mesquite Street (or Avenue?). I'm learning my way around. Intermountain Yearly Meeting, maybe that's one of my new goals. Out in the boondocks, one has to reach out in order to stay connected to the Quaker world. My next project may be Quaker calendars. More on that later.
Sunday, December 04, 2016
historic event
The Friends of Southern Illinois Quaker Meeting have now decided to leave the Interfaith Center, and meet at the schoolhouse owned by the Sufis, across town, and I've decided that this is a good thing, or at least a necessary thing, and I'll tell you why. It was not an easy decision; in fact, they were working on it almost ten years ago, and they almost moved back while I lived there, which would have been before 2012. But at that time they were considering meeting at the Wesley Center, in the Methodists' building, and several people, including me, were opposed. I just couldn't see having a silent Quaker meeting right under a large cross. I had enough history with the Methodists, though I had to admit I liked them better than, say, the Baptists. But a core of us, even then, were committed to saving the Interfaith building if at all possible.
The problem is, this is really more a story about that group of Quakers stubbornly sticking to an impossible dream, than about the joyful coming together of Quakers and Sufis, who share a lot in common in terms of their roles in the religions they started in. I don't know much about the Sufis, as I'll explain later, but one thing is for sure - Quakers won't have a silent meeting under a huge cross, as they would at the Wesley Center. The main problem was, the Interfaith itself is crumbling to the ground. People who are more in tune to the physical environment would notice this first: hole in the roof, water leaking through it during meeting, broken water heater, lack of any kind of cooling, persistent flooding, mold, that kind of thing. One mother and child came through the town (Carbondale, IL) and she said she literally couldn't have her young son in the building. Why, I thought, I practically brought my kids up in it. But I think she was right. It was unsafe and it was unhealthy, and there was no way really to fix it up.
Why not? It was right in the center of town, across from the university; it had a lifetime lease of $1/year; all they had to do was raise the money to fix the building itself. Occasionally they would have fundraising campaigns and they would work; they'd get a new water heater, or perhaps a furnace, or something, anything, to keep it going for a while. The mainline churches that had established it had long ago backed out; this was partly because it wasn't effective in bringing students into their congregations, and partly because of internal pressure to not support a building where activities ranged from pagan gatherings to revolutionary provocations. The churches just found that the cost/benefit ratio was too imbalanced; whoever was director of the Interfaith was too unresponsive to their needs. It had some supporters around town, who would invest heavily, occasionally, and even that wasn't enough. You have to pay a director. And then, that director needs insurance.
I was in Carbondale from 1994 to 2012, eighteen years. In that time, the Quakers became the only remaining tenant in the building. We'd have it to ourselves on Sunday mornings, and it was occasionally a nice, warm, welcoming place. The trains came by regularly. It was on a very low patch by a creek and would suffer from floods. Being on the path from the dorms to the bars, it suffered from occasional vandalism. But it was a nice place, and for all intents and purposes, it was ours. At one point "Occupy Carbondale" kind of moved in and some homeless people were more or less camping there. In summer it was interminably hot and we almost lost our meeting, due to just plain inhospitable clime. In winter they'd fire up the furnace an hour before we got there and sometimes even then, the seats, the floors, the walls would all be very cold. We could all see the end coming. That's why I wrote the play (below) about the inanimate objects in the place. Its inclusiveness, its all-religions-welcome aspect was very dear to us. I had dreams of having an international, all-religions-welcome festival there. But these were just dreams. I had a family to support, and had to keep working no matter what. Even when I left, it was, for me, partly so I could breathe, and experience any of my dreams. So I became somewhat detached; I still love the building, as we all do, but I realized there wasn't much we could do. We were a small group of about ten people. At one point I said, we could just snatch this as a Quaker meeting house, keep it, fix it up, invest our own money into it, etc. But it had this board, and this formal structure of ownership. The board didn't seem to do much for the place, though. They were kind of absentee owners - they occasionally begged for someone to join them. I was too busy.
The Sufis came to town sometime in that period, perhaps in the late 90's. They had a strong leader, who had lived in Europe and New York for a while, and who apparently had a place in Colorado as well. People spread rumors about him and them; one was that he had two wives; another was that they were a kind of cult. I have decided that they are not a cult, but I really have no idea about his marital status. I always found them to be nice people, and occasionally some of the local people, my friends, would get involved with them. I say they were not a cult, mostly because they didn't apply pressure, to me or my friends, and also didn't apply pressure, when those people chose to leave them. Those were my criteria. I knew that they studied Arabic, and they tried to practice their religion devoutly. Other Muslims scorned them, much as other Christians scorn the Quakers. They represented a kind of mystic branch, experiential (also like the Quakers), but failing to live up to the standards of the Muslim orthodoxy in town (I knew this from my Saudi students, as I actually had more standard Muslim friends than, say, mainline Protestant ones, or anything else). But I wasn't totally clear about this, and still am not. They were friendly to me; I knew several of them. Together, or one at a time, they bought up little houses on the north side, and the north side became a kind of Sufi neighborhood.
Having left in 2012, I don't know if they've grown or declined; if they have people joining them from around the country or the world, or they stick to their little group in town; if their farm has been successful or not; if their school (where the Meeting will now meet) is doing well in terms of educating young Sufi children; or if their relations with the community are good or strained. I always felt they were good; they tried to be good neighbors. They had a piece of land on the north side that was called "Sufi Park," - it was small, but it was nice. I think it's about the same as it was four years ago, when I left. Their school is probably a good place for us to meet. And they probably need our meager rent money. The location is good - anywhere in town is better than anywhere out of town. As long as parking is not an issue, everyone will get along fine.
The play below is about knowing that the building you are in is doomed, and will be torn down, and has been abandoned, for all intents and purposes, by everyone. That is the case for the Interfaith. They are having their last meeting there today, and reading my play, which is now eight years old. The rubber tree is long gone, but many of the things in the play still are: the piano, the Shinto gate, the statuettes. It's a challenge for the community, to walk away with this stuff and find a good use for it. Hopefully the community can pull together and find good uses for those things. The pain of the inanimate objects of course is nothing compared to that of my fellow Friends in Carbondale, who are letting go of their attachments, as I write.
The problem is, this is really more a story about that group of Quakers stubbornly sticking to an impossible dream, than about the joyful coming together of Quakers and Sufis, who share a lot in common in terms of their roles in the religions they started in. I don't know much about the Sufis, as I'll explain later, but one thing is for sure - Quakers won't have a silent meeting under a huge cross, as they would at the Wesley Center. The main problem was, the Interfaith itself is crumbling to the ground. People who are more in tune to the physical environment would notice this first: hole in the roof, water leaking through it during meeting, broken water heater, lack of any kind of cooling, persistent flooding, mold, that kind of thing. One mother and child came through the town (Carbondale, IL) and she said she literally couldn't have her young son in the building. Why, I thought, I practically brought my kids up in it. But I think she was right. It was unsafe and it was unhealthy, and there was no way really to fix it up.
Why not? It was right in the center of town, across from the university; it had a lifetime lease of $1/year; all they had to do was raise the money to fix the building itself. Occasionally they would have fundraising campaigns and they would work; they'd get a new water heater, or perhaps a furnace, or something, anything, to keep it going for a while. The mainline churches that had established it had long ago backed out; this was partly because it wasn't effective in bringing students into their congregations, and partly because of internal pressure to not support a building where activities ranged from pagan gatherings to revolutionary provocations. The churches just found that the cost/benefit ratio was too imbalanced; whoever was director of the Interfaith was too unresponsive to their needs. It had some supporters around town, who would invest heavily, occasionally, and even that wasn't enough. You have to pay a director. And then, that director needs insurance.
I was in Carbondale from 1994 to 2012, eighteen years. In that time, the Quakers became the only remaining tenant in the building. We'd have it to ourselves on Sunday mornings, and it was occasionally a nice, warm, welcoming place. The trains came by regularly. It was on a very low patch by a creek and would suffer from floods. Being on the path from the dorms to the bars, it suffered from occasional vandalism. But it was a nice place, and for all intents and purposes, it was ours. At one point "Occupy Carbondale" kind of moved in and some homeless people were more or less camping there. In summer it was interminably hot and we almost lost our meeting, due to just plain inhospitable clime. In winter they'd fire up the furnace an hour before we got there and sometimes even then, the seats, the floors, the walls would all be very cold. We could all see the end coming. That's why I wrote the play (below) about the inanimate objects in the place. Its inclusiveness, its all-religions-welcome aspect was very dear to us. I had dreams of having an international, all-religions-welcome festival there. But these were just dreams. I had a family to support, and had to keep working no matter what. Even when I left, it was, for me, partly so I could breathe, and experience any of my dreams. So I became somewhat detached; I still love the building, as we all do, but I realized there wasn't much we could do. We were a small group of about ten people. At one point I said, we could just snatch this as a Quaker meeting house, keep it, fix it up, invest our own money into it, etc. But it had this board, and this formal structure of ownership. The board didn't seem to do much for the place, though. They were kind of absentee owners - they occasionally begged for someone to join them. I was too busy.
The Sufis came to town sometime in that period, perhaps in the late 90's. They had a strong leader, who had lived in Europe and New York for a while, and who apparently had a place in Colorado as well. People spread rumors about him and them; one was that he had two wives; another was that they were a kind of cult. I have decided that they are not a cult, but I really have no idea about his marital status. I always found them to be nice people, and occasionally some of the local people, my friends, would get involved with them. I say they were not a cult, mostly because they didn't apply pressure, to me or my friends, and also didn't apply pressure, when those people chose to leave them. Those were my criteria. I knew that they studied Arabic, and they tried to practice their religion devoutly. Other Muslims scorned them, much as other Christians scorn the Quakers. They represented a kind of mystic branch, experiential (also like the Quakers), but failing to live up to the standards of the Muslim orthodoxy in town (I knew this from my Saudi students, as I actually had more standard Muslim friends than, say, mainline Protestant ones, or anything else). But I wasn't totally clear about this, and still am not. They were friendly to me; I knew several of them. Together, or one at a time, they bought up little houses on the north side, and the north side became a kind of Sufi neighborhood.
Having left in 2012, I don't know if they've grown or declined; if they have people joining them from around the country or the world, or they stick to their little group in town; if their farm has been successful or not; if their school (where the Meeting will now meet) is doing well in terms of educating young Sufi children; or if their relations with the community are good or strained. I always felt they were good; they tried to be good neighbors. They had a piece of land on the north side that was called "Sufi Park," - it was small, but it was nice. I think it's about the same as it was four years ago, when I left. Their school is probably a good place for us to meet. And they probably need our meager rent money. The location is good - anywhere in town is better than anywhere out of town. As long as parking is not an issue, everyone will get along fine.
The play below is about knowing that the building you are in is doomed, and will be torn down, and has been abandoned, for all intents and purposes, by everyone. That is the case for the Interfaith. They are having their last meeting there today, and reading my play, which is now eight years old. The rubber tree is long gone, but many of the things in the play still are: the piano, the Shinto gate, the statuettes. It's a challenge for the community, to walk away with this stuff and find a good use for it. Hopefully the community can pull together and find good uses for those things. The pain of the inanimate objects of course is nothing compared to that of my fellow Friends in Carbondale, who are letting go of their attachments, as I write.
Second First Day at the Interfaith
Second First-Day at the Interfaith
Thomas
Leverett
@2008,
All Rights Reserved
RUBBER TREE:
GUITAR CASE:
PIANO:
HUGGERS STATUETTE:
BUDDHA STATUETTE:
CHURCH OF CHRIST BROCHURE, PRESBYTERIAN BROCHURE, LUTHERAN BROCHURE:
YIN-YANG FLAG, EARTH FLAG, UN FLAG:
KRSNA BOOK, ISLAM BOOK, JUDAISM BOOK:
ACT ONE
BUDDHA STATUETTE:
I am the
Buddha. I am the Enlightened one. Om.
HUGGERS STATUETTE:
You're just
a statuette. You're just a rock. Somebody carved you out of a rock!
BUDDHA:
People
bring me flowers. I represent the path to enlightenment. The one path. Om!
HUGGERS:
There are
many paths to enlightenment.
BUDDHA:
What we
think, we become. The mind is everything.
HUGGERS:
You and your
quotes! You're beginning to bug me!
(they leave)
GUITAR CASE:
(to audience): OK, here's the deal. You Eaters are in for a
special treat today. I'm a guitar case, and I've been elected to show you
around a little - give you a tour, and let you in on the secret world of
inanimate objects. We call ourselves Noticers, because we notice everything.
You (points at audience) are the Eaters. I'm not sure why we call you that,
maybe when you start eating, you stop noticing. Anyway we Noticers can talk -
you just don't hear it usually. Only today we've made it possible for you to
hear us. Today is music day at Quaker meeting. Second First-Day at the
Interfaith. That's why I'm on the scene. Here we go! come with me? (walks
off stage & around for a minute; meanwhile PIANO & RUBBER TREE
set up on stage. GUITAR CASE reenters
stage. PIANO is at left, playing the
piano to himself with his fingers, imagining a song. RUBBER TREE is at center with arms up.)
PIANO:
Well if it
isn't Guitar case. What is it, music day?
RUBBER TREE:
Of course,
second Sunday of the month! What's new, guitar case?
GUITAR CASE:
Oh,
nothing much. Same old same old. Tom H's kitchen, back of truck, here. At least
I get out once in a while, better than some guitar cases. Here I stand in the
lobby, and soon I'll go into the library. Then, it'll be back out here, and
home.
PIANO:
How's Shinto
Gate?
GUITAR CASE:
Same
as usual, stands out there in front, Eaters walk under him. They painted him a
couple of years ago, did you know that?
PIANO:
Oh
yeah, I can see out the window, you know. I just can't talk to him. Every day I
watch him out there, but I never say hello to him. Maybe on the day they move
me out.
RUBBER TREE:
Any word on
the fate of the building?
GUITAR CASE:
No,
same as usual. They're going to tear it down, everyone is sure of it. They're
going to put some new building up right here where this one used to be. They've
got plans, oh yes. But, they're having trouble keeping it going as it is. The
Quakers were thinking of moving across the road. The building is in bad repair,
bad air conditioning, that kind of stuff.
RUBBER TREE:
Aaaaaahhhh!
I can't take it!
PIANO:
Ah, Rubber
Tree, buck up. They'll find a home for you.
RUBBER TREE:
Yeah,
they'll find a home for me, in some university lobby somewhere. But it won't be
the same. They'll probably cut off my upper branches, make me start over!
PIANO:
Hey,
at least you have a future. It's Shinto Gate that's in trouble. What are they
going to do with Shinto Gate?
RUBBER TREE:
I
just can't take it! It seems so unfair, these eaters having so much control
over our lives, over everything! And they don't even care about us!
GUITAR CASE:
Be
glad you're not a book, like Krsna book or Islam book. You stand around for
twenty, thirty years, your cover says "Look at me! Look at me!"
Sometimes those eaters look at you, but usually they don't. Then it's off to
the landfill for you!
PIANO:
Yeah,
or be glad you're not a glass figurine. Some eater kid drops you, it's all
over! Or remember the brochures? There were brochures for each of the Christian
denominations that funded this place. But they kept getting spilled and going
out to the landfill!
(BROCHURES ENTER)
CHURCH OF CHRIST BROCHURE, PRESBYTERIAN
BROCHURE, LUTHERAN BROCHURE:
Pick us up!
Read us! Pick us up! Read us!
(BROCHURES LEAVE)
GUITAR CASE:
I've heard
stories about the landfill. I'll do anything to stay out of there!
PIANO:
You'll be
ok, guitar case. They get a new building, they still need a guitar!
RUBBER TREE:
Hey,
speaking of books, what's going on in the library? Aren't you on your way in
there?
GUITAR CASE:
Yes,
for music Sunday. Last week there was a huge fight between the Buddha statuette
and the Huggers statuette.
PIANO:
Oh yeah? I
didn't hear about that.
GUITAR CASE:
Oh
yeah. Huggers claims that she's out on the table, because she represents all
the religions, she represents the Interfaith itself. There's four of her, so
she faces every direction, you know. But Buddha says, as a symbol of the
divine, she deserves more respect...
(FLASHBACK INTERLUDE- CHARACTERS BACK UP, HUGGERS & BUDDHA COME TO FRONT - after sheet is brought out)
BUDDHA:
OK,
I get it. You're a huggers statuette. You like to pay attention to all
religions. Islam, Hinduism, Judaism, you like 'em all. But what you forget is,
when you believe in all of them, you dilute each one. You can't know the true
path if you're spending time on every different path!
HUGGERS:
You
don't get it, do you? When you respect every path, you learn from each one, and
you notice that God respects each one; God doesn't care what you call your
path. When you get all involved in your one religion, you think that everyone
else is wrong, and you've got the only way!
BUDDHA:
You
can't be two religions at once! Either you're one, or you're the other! You've
got to choose!
HUGGERS:
I choose to
respect them all!
PIANO:
It's
true, they usually put Huggers down there on the table, where everyone can see
her.
GUITAR:
But
they only bring out Buddha for the special Buddhist events. Though they do
bring her flowers.
RUBBER TREE:
A
Noticer is a Noticer. Why should anything an Eater do change anything? They're
just statuettes. That's all. Eaters don't care about us. Yeah, they move us
around once in a while. You stand here for a few years, maybe they'll come by
and water you once in a while. Eaters come and go, and it doesn't change
anything.
GUITAR CASE:
Yeah but
it's what you represent that counts.
RUBBER TREE:
Why? I don't
represent anything but a rubber tree.
(FLAGS ENTER)
YIN-YANG FLAG, EARTH FLAG, UN FLAG:
Notice me!
Notice me! Notice me!
(FLAGS LEAVE)
GUITAR CASE:
Well,
you know, symbols are big for these eaters. You represent God, you end up in
some holy place, you get stuff brought to you. Someone brought Buddha a flower,
did you see that?
RUBBER TREE:
Yeah,
but when the Eaters go home, you're just a statuette. Same as all the rest.
Eaters can come and go, I don't think they change anything.
PIANO:
What about
Spike?
GUITAR CASE:
Who's Spike?
PIANO:
Spike
was a cat, lived around here for years. We used to argue about whether he was
an Eater or a Noticer. Actually, he was kind of both. He was a little rough on
the edges. This was back in the Karen era, before Hugh even.
GUITAR CASE:
Yeah?
PIANO:
Didn't
really have a family, Quakers were the closest he had. So one day, he caught a
mole. Brought it in, and dropped it in Quaker meeting. Gave it to the Quakers.
GUITAR CASE:
Bet they
liked that!
PIANO:
Well,
they were a little upset. But they heard him. They tried to understand where he
was coming from. And, in the end, he left here mellower than when he arrived.
Point is, it did make a difference.
RUBBER TREE:
And
they made me a skylight- so my life would be better. But here I am, thirty feet
high, all my leaves at the top, and now they'll have no place for me - I'm
doomed!
PIANO:
Yeah.
Remember the Lights Parade? Every year, I watched the parade start outside this
window. Floats from every church in town, marching bands from every school.
GUITAR CASE:
What
happened to the parade?
PIANO:
They
moved it! I guess Mill Street was more convenient, with its underpass and all.
Now it starts on Mill Street.
RUBBER TREE:
See, times
change! We're obsolete! We're doomed!
PIANO:
Those
were the good old days, an interfaith place, a warm place to hang around, have
a cup of hot cocoa, people aren't going to forget that.
RUBBER TREE:
OK,
so the place changed the people. But it didn't change the rest of us. Did
anyone pick up a book? Did anyone organize the library? Was it all for nothing,
or what?
PIANO:
You
can't say it was all for nothing. Remember the Synergy? Remember the Hillel? Or
the Environmentalists, mowing the lawn and hanging around all hours of the
night? Look, this place has welcomed so many eaters, you can't imagine. And
each one has had an influence. Vegetarian Thanksgivings, Big Muddy Films, you
name it.
RUBBER TREE:
All
I'm saying is, eaters come and go. But they don't care about us. Money is what
it is. They're tearing this place down- but why? They need a place that will
pay the bills, that's all. This place is old; it's in bad shape, they can't
heat it in the winter, can't keep it cool in the summer.
PIANO:
You're
forgetting about history. Eaters shed blood keeping this place going. Pounds
and pounds of old clothes, sold in the midnight rummage sales. You talk about
the landfill; this place kept that stuff OUT of the landfill! Remember the time
that guy broke Picture Window, down on the ground floor? Or the great Flood?
GUITAR CASE:
You
know, what you're saying is this: This place did influence people. So, don't
you think people influenced the place, too? This building has quite a history,
doesn't it?
PIANO:
I'm not even
telling half of it. You know, these stories remind me.
RUBBER TREE:
(crying)
Yeah?
PIANO:
Once
there was this little boy. Didn't have a piano at home, used to come by, bang
on me once in a while.
RUBBER TREE:
Yeah?
PIANO:
Yeah.
I used to get mad; I was waiting for someone who knew how to play, of course.
Rubinstein or someone. You know how it is.
GUITAR CASE:
Yeah?
PIANO:
Well,
it turns out, you make a bigger difference, being there for a boy like that,
than you do being there for a musician, you know what I mean? It's like, maybe
the boy doesn't know a thing, maybe he's never seen a piano. And maybe I'm the
first piano he ever played, you know what I mean?
GUITAR CASE:
I've got to
get into the library now - it's time for singing.
RUBBER TREE:
Say hello to
the statuettes.
PIANO:
And the
books. We never see them.
(GUITAR CASE LEAVES)
ACT TWO
(STATUETTES AT RIGHT, GUITAR CASE ENTERS)
BUDDHA:
Guitar case!
How are you?
GUITAR CASE:
I'm ok.
Rubber tree is railing against the tyranny of injustice.
HUGGERS:
The only
tyrant I accept in this world is the still voice within.
GUITAR CASE:
Excuse me?
HUGGERS:
Oh sorry,
Gandhi quote. Got it from the wallhanging.
GUITAR CASE:
I see you
statuettes are on the shelf again.
BUDDHA:
Old
Roof leaked. Right during Quaker meeting. They even moved Huggers over to the
bookshelf! Now, we statuettes are a couple of bookends.
(BOOKS ENTER, WAVING BOOKS AND SINGING)
KRSHNA BOOK, ISLAM BOOK, JUDAISM BOOK:
Look at me!
Look at me! I've got pictures!
(BOOKS LEAVE)
HUGGERS:
Hey, what do
you hear about the building?
GUITAR CASE:
Same
as usual. They're going to take it down. But you two have nothing to worry
about. You're small; you're portable, you're beautiful. They'll probably take
you with them!
BUDDHA:
You
know, the guy that made me, he was really careful. He took hours and hours.
HUGGERS:
Yeah,
same with the woman who made me. You think all that work will go to waste?
BUDDHA:
What do you
mean?
HUGGERS:
You
know, if the building is torn down, and we have to move...or go someplace where
they don't appreciate us?
BUDDHA:
Oh, we'll be
ok....Even death is not to be feared by one who lives wisely!
HUGGERS:
You and your
quotes again!
BUDDHA:
Om!
GUITAR CASE:
Hey, quiet
over there! It's time for the music!
CURTAIN CALL
