Arlene Kelly, a member of Central Philadelphia (Pa.) Meeting, works with the Counseling Service of Philadelphia Yearly Meeting's Family Relations Committee. She is a counselor and she conducts a variety of workshops for meetings and other Friends groups.

The monthly meeting, for many of us, is our spiritual home. I state this with some qualification, because I know that this home at times feels as though it were built on a shaky foundation or sometimes feels unwelcoming or in need of repair. As Quakerism is structured, however, the meeting, at the very least, should be a place to get our spiritual batteries recharged, a refuge in which we can relax in the knowledge that we are with people who share our deepest values, and a place in which people care what happens to us in our individual and family lives.

My vision of the monthly meeting as a caring community is based on a belief I assume to be shared by all Friends: the existence of a living God, a Presence which is accessible to us moment by moment, whether or not we open ourselves to that Presence. A logical extension of that belief is that one of Friends' central individual and corporate goals is the living of a God-led life. This is certainly a goal we set for ourselves in our decision-making process in meeting for business, as we attempt to put aside our individual human will and to be open to the will of God. That principle has applicability far beyond the business meeting; indeed, it permeates all human interactions, large or small.

It is important that we fully absorb the implications of belief in this Presence, because that belief determines the focus of our efforts as we work to strengthen our meetings and to make them increasingly effective as caring communities. We are called to be instruments for the work of the living God; we are called to be channels through which the Spirit can move. We are not responsible for determining what the outcome will be; we are not responsible for making the "right" thing happen. Harold Loukes put it well when he said, "An act of love that fails is just as much a part of the divine life as an act of love that succeeds, for love is measured by its own fullness, not by its reception."

A meeting that stays grounded in the shared belief in the working of the Spirit, that stays grounded in the belief that Friends are intended to be God-led, has turned loose a tremendous amount of creative energy. This energy grows, I believe, in direct proportion to the diminution of fear, the fear that causes us to deny our gifts, that causes us to say, "I could never do that, I'm not good enough." Indeed there are limits to our capabilities, but all too often it is our fear of failure, our fear that we cannot make it turn out "right," that causes us to deny our gifts. I believe there is no sin in failure. Sin is in turning our backs on the possibility of our being a channel for the Spirit to work. We are not called to be perfect; we are called to be present.

That creative energy in our meeting also grows with the diminution of the fear of conflict. When the issue ceases being whether you are right or I am right, we can stop being afraid about who is going to win and who is going to lose. Our energy is freed to seek together, and we know that, as we engage fully and impersonally around our different perspectives, there is a possibility that a third, higher way will open.

When we relax into owning our talents as gifts from God to be used in making the Spirit manifest in our daily interactions, and let go of the notion that we are responsible for making everything turn out right, then we are more comfortable in saying both yes and no. We are more open to responding to the pain, turmoil, or anger that we see and hear in the eyes and voice and actions of another. When we are able to let go of our fear of conflict, we can open ourselves to those who are different and build a community that is enriched by diversity.

Friends, the raw materials are there. We are the instruments, and the Spirit is ever· present. How, then, do we develop our meetings into effective communities so that individuals and families of the meeting know deep within themselves that this is their spiritual home, so that they experience the meeting as nurturing and helping them during both the usual and the extraordinary times in their lives?

In beginning to seek the answer to that question, it is necessary to identify the different factors that affect what becomes "the meeting." We are each ministers and, thus, have a responsibility for the life and health of the meeting community. The meeting is each of us, yet it is more than all of us combined. If we are truly to understand how a strong and effective community is built, we must recognize and attend to both individual and corporate dimensions.

Further, in medium and large meetings there are likely to be both institutional caring and nurture of individuals and families, as well as informal, more personal, and spontaneous caring. Both are important and complementary. Either, by itself, is likely to be incomplete. The institutional caring is the corporate life at work and the informal caring is usually the individual at work, though that individual also may be an overseer.

Meetings are much more accustomed to relating to the lives of individuals and families within their midst than they are accustomed to attending to the meeting's corporate life. Yet, it is this corporate life that provides the context for all of the care of individuals and families. Over and over I have heard the question posed in many different meetings, "Why won't people speak up when they're having difficulties? Why, for example, do we only hear of the marital problems when a couple is breaking up?" The answer to this question, I suggest, is that we have failed to create a context that makes it natural and acceptable for that sharing of difficulties to occur.

Attention to the corporate life of the meeting involves answering queries such as the following:

Who are we as a meeting? How do we wish to be perceived by our members, by visitors? Do we feel satisfied that people's impressions are consistent with our wishes for perception? If not, why not? How might we work toward a greater consistency?

What does it mean to be a member of this meeting? What is the responsibility of the meeting to its members? What does an individual or family have a right to expect of their meeting? What is the responsibility of the member to the meeting? When there is disappointment of expectation on either side, what is a creative way to deal with this?

What does it mean to be married "under the care of the meeting" ? What is the role of the meeting and specifically of the clearness committee? What is expected of the couple? Does the meeting, through its clearness committee or some other means, consider itself to have an ongoing relationship, to which it attends, with couples it marries?

How do we wish to be perceived as a community in regard to relationships among different generations? Do the young people enjoy friendships with the adults? Are ways found to call on the gifts of all people regardless of age? Are we mindful of and responsive to the particular needs of each age group?

The meeting's articulation of its corporate answer to queries such as these is important for several reasons. First, a sense of community is not fully possible without a sense of common identity, a sense of what binds it together. Certainly, in many instances this is developed intuitively; yet that intuitive development of a sense of identity usually has much more to do with our identity as Quakers rather than how we want to corporately live out our Quakerism in a particular monthly meeting.

Second, the articulation of its corporate answers, at the very least, identifies common expectations for behavior that can be supportive to individuals as they try to find ways to contribute to the building of a caring community, and at most serves as a mandate for people acting on behalf of the meeting. Clearness for marriage committees are one example of this latter point. If the meeting has not explored in-depth and come to consensus on what it means to be married under the care of the meeting, a given clearness committee has no guidelines on how thorough or superficial it should be. If the committee encounters an unusual or difficult situation, it often finds itself in uncharted waters in regard to not only having little experience with the situation but also in knowing what the meeting expects of the committee. It is the committee's lack of clarity about the expectation of the meeting that is often more immobilizing than the situation itself. That immobilization can keep the response from being full and caring.

Finally, the articulation of the meeting's response to queries such as these can help different committees identify how they can work to strengthen different aspects of the meeting's corporate life that may fall under its aegis.

All of us go through periods in which we need some extra care and support (if we allow ourselves to acknowledge that). These occur at times of illness, loss, job change, or just when we're overloaded. While caring certainly can be, and appropriately is, intensified at such periods, there has to have been some context already established if we expect to hear from a person or family about their need.

That context is created first by our getting to know individuals outside of their roles on meeting committees. Meeting weekends, creative listening groups, or small weekday worship groups are but a few of the things that can bring us together outside our roles. Second, that context is created by the meeting's taking seriously its responsibility to individuals and families during significant transitions. If the clearness committee is casual in interviewing the applicant for membership, don't be surprised when that member doesn't turn to the meeting later when she or he is experiencing some crisis of conscience. If the clearness for marriage committee makes the clearness process totally a social occasion with little substance, don't be surprised when that couple does not later seek the support of the meeting in a time of strain or crisis.

Last, and perhaps most important, that context is created by each of us being as willing to acknowledge our need for help as we are to give it. Several years ago I participated in conducting a survey to identify the needs of a particular segment of Philadelphia Yearly Meeting. Practically all, in response to a particular question, said they saw their monthly meeting as a potential support to them. Their response to the next question, "Would you turn to your meeting for support and help?" was as unanimous. No, they would not, but they were glad it was there for others. As long as each of us is unwilling to reveal our own human frailties, to be vulnerable to others who make up our spiritual community, we need not expect different behavior from them.

It may be too threatening and scary for any of us, on our own, to decide to be more open in our meeting if this is not the general mode. Here again, however, is an example of a query from which the meeting could benefit through discussion:

Are we satisfied with how we are there for each other in times of need? Does each of us feel comfortable in sharing his or her need for help and support with the meeting community? If not, why not? How can we as a community grow toward greater trust in dropping our masks and in sharing our vulnerabilities?

It is easier for us to try to grow toward this if we feel others share that as a goal and also are working toward it.

I am convinced that a great deal more caring exists in the hearts of meeting members than ever gets expressed. I know this to be true because over and over people participating in workshops led by our Family Relations Committee's Counseling Service have said, "I sensed that something was the matter with Friend X, but I didn't want to intrude." Evidence of a real failure, the failure to build caring communities that witness to God's love at work in our lives, emerges when we put that comment next to one that is heard with equal frequency. In the same workshops, Friends who acknowledge having gone through marital problems, loss, or some other dark period in their lives will say, "I couldn't ask for help, but people must have noticed. I cried easily, I attended meeting less frequently. I wish someone would have reached out to me. I would have appreciated it so."

If we are to build our caring community, we must risk reaching out and touching the other. It may be easier if we remember that we are instruments for the Spirit to work among us. We are required only to do the best we can, to know our limits, and to be comfortable in saying when those limits are reached. There are many ways to help, and each of us needs to know our own style and gifts. Some of us help by listening, some by doing concrete tasks without many words, some by praying, and I suggest that some could help by helping the helper. If the gifts of a particular person are needed in a given situation, what might you do to lighten some of that person's family responsibilities or other responsibilities for a time?

When helping, we need to be sensitive to the style of the person to whom we're reaching out, but if we get in the habit of asking this person more specifically what she or he finds to be helpful, we can be fairly certain that we will not, inadvertently, be intrusive. To say, "What can I do to help?" probably won't be enough. A positive response to our offer of help is more likely to come if we state our desire to help, name several things that occur to us as possibly helpful, and then ask what would be most useful.

Building a caring community, like building a healthy, mature, committed relationship, or building a healthy, loving family, requires conscious attention. It seldom, if ever, just happens. In my opinion it is a task to which we are called if we are ever to fully reach our potential as the "Religious Society of Friends."

— Friends Journal 1984, Issue 10, pp8-9 (reprinted with permission)