As others see us: Quakers as "suicide cult"

I’ve recently been wondering how Quakers (I happen to be one) are perceived by the vast majority who aren’t.

Today, while reading the New York Times, I got an unusual and troubling glimpse from reading a story about a Navy midshipman, Ensign Michael Izbicki, who has just emerged successfully from the surreal experience of explaining why he is a conscientious objector.

After a two-year legal struggle, he has finally been discharged from the Navy.

It’s a bizarre, ironic story, reminiscent of “Catch-22” in many ways.

What especially caught my attention, given my interest in how Quakers are perceived, was this paragraph about Izbicki's inquisition at the hands of the Navy:

“One Navy commander suggested that the pacifist strain of Christianity that Mr. Izbicki embraced was inconsistent with mainstream Christian faith. The same commander likened the Quakers, who supported Mr. Izbicki, to the Rev. Jim Jones and his People’s Temple, a suicide cult.”

Alas, the commander is not named in the story. We need to talk. Nor does the story expand on the commander’s Jonestown/Quaker comparison, but allow me to speculate.

First, a little history is in order. The infamous Jonestown mass suicide of 1978 in northern Guyana resulted in the deaths of more than 900 Jones followers, who drank poisoned Kool-Aid and died. It was the largest mass suicide in the history of this country.

My speculation about the commander’s thinking goes like this: Because Quakers follow a testimony promoting peace and refraining from and opposing participation in war, they are, in effect, committing suicide at the hands of this nation’s murderous enemies.

That, in itself is a contradiction. Suicide, by definition, is death at one’s own hands. When one knowingly chooses to die at the hands of someone else, that is commonly referred to as martyrdom. The pages of history are full of those who put their lives on the line to die for a greater good. One died on a cross 2,000 years ago. But that, commander, is another story.

The U.S. military would have us believe that its members are martyrs to such a good. It’s a tough sell, and Ensign Izbicki wasn’t buying it, especially when he was told that, from a submarine armed with nuclear missiles, he might be called upon to kill innocent civilians.

In my view, joining the armed forces is more akin to suicide. First, one increases the chances of being killed for politically ginned-up causes. If you don't believe me, dip into "War is a Lie" by David Swanson who lays out the lies our nation's leaders have told to justify going to war.

Moreover, on-duty military personnel are literally killing themselves (ie. committing suicide) in shocking numbers. In 2009, the suicide rate in the military was higher than the civilian average. Fifty-two Marines and 48 Sailors committed suicide in 2009, according to official reports. As of November of that year, 147 soldiers had taken their lives. Air Force officials reported 41 active-duty suicides in 2009.

Then there is the rate of suicides among veterans. Veterans Administration records show there are an average of 950 suicide attempts each month by veterans receiving some type of treatment from the Veterans Affairs Department. (Statistics aren't available for veterans not being treated.)

As ensign, Michael Izbicki was already agonizing over the possibility that he might be called on to mash a button that would lead to the obliteration of civilian populations. If he were ever forced to live with performing such a deed, it is entirely conceivable his “service to our country” might drive him to suicide too.

As I say, commander, we need to talk. Might I suggest, sir, that you and your colleagues might just be commanding your own Jonestown. Call it a "military cult."

But don’t believe me. I’m not a “mainstream Christian.” I’m just a member of a Quaker “cult.”

Does Israel's loyalty "shoe" fit America's "foot"?

The Congress is considering passing a law that requires all new US citizens to pledge allegiance to this country as a “Christian state.”

Well, not really.

That’s just a “shoe” I’m trying on because Israel’s cabinet just voted that all new Israeli immigrants must pledge loyalty to Israel as a "Jewish, democratic state."

So how does the "Christian state" shoe fit, fellow Americans?

A little tight in the toe?

At the very least there’s a contradiction here. No state can provide “democratic” protections when it requires allegiance to any religion. Not Israel, not Iran, not Britain, (where the Queen is still the head of the Church of England), not, ahem, the Vatican etc.

Under a democracy, minorities (whether religious or not) have equal rights.

Back to Israel.... I assume, the term “Jewish” here is being used as a religious, not a racial, classification.

If race is part of the definition, the equivalent here might call for loyalty to the US as a “Christian, Aryan” state.

The shoe is no longer a shoe; it has the feel of a jack boot.

As perverse as the Israeli government’s pledge is, one wonders what non-Muslim immigrants are required to do in, say, Iran or Indonesia?

Just how many religious pledges are there around the world?

Of course the US Congress would never, ever consider such a pledge — at least not yet (let’s see what happens after the Nov. 2 election) — but one thing it might consider is denying foreign (including military) aid to any country whose government requires such a pledge.

That should save us a few billion bucks.

Actually, our own Oath of Allegiance, which new US citizens must take, is hardly squeaky clean. Fortunately, it offers "outs" for those who find they can’t stomach it.

Among those given a "pass" are Quakers, who don’t take oaths and who practice non-violence.

Here’s the oath (the source is Wikipedia) followed by the exclusions:

I hereby declare, on oath, that I absolutely and entirely renounce and abjure all allegiance and fidelity to any foreign prince, potentate, state, or sovereignty of whom or which I have heretofore been a subject or citizen; that I will support and defend the Constitution and laws of the United States of America against all enemies, foreign and domestic; that I will bear true faith and allegiance to the same; that I will bear arms on behalf of the United States when required by the law; that I will perform noncombatant service in the Armed Forces of the United States when required by the law; that I will perform work of national importance under civilian direction when required by the law; and that I take this obligation freely without any mental reservation or purpose of evasion; so help me God.

In some cases, the US government allows the oath to be taken without the clauses regarding the bearing of arms and performance of noncombatant military service.

The law also provides that the phrase "so help me God" is optional and that the words ‘on oath’ can be substituted with ‘and solemnly affirm’. Also, if the prospective citizen can prove such commitments are in violation with his or her religion, the lines "that I will bear arms on behalf of the United States when required by law; that I will perform non-combatant service in the Armed Forces of the United States when required by law" are sometimes omitted.

On being one

Quakers often speak of the “Inner Light” and “that of God in each of us.”

In the last couple of days I’ve been led, in a Quakerly manner, to think more about divinity and spirituality and where they reside.

In an all-encompassing universe (a UNI-VERSE) that defies human notions of “place” and separateness, I believe we are blinded when we posit our spirituality here or there or anywhere.

Some belief systems place the spirit within us (in the heart or the solar plexus or in the center of the forehead). Some project a part of the spirit into an exterior place (a sanctuary, a shrine, a house of worship, to a Rome, Mecca, or Jerusalem) or into a person (Jesus, Mohamed, Buddha etc.)

But the spirit isn’t “place-able,” because it is in every person, every place, every thing — all at once, everywhere.

It is everything.

Even as we Quakers speak narrowly of the “Inner Light,” we practice silent worship that moves us “out” as well, to include a vast oneness.

Dispensing with words in the silence is a huge step because words separate through definitions. A “tree” is not a “rock.” “You” are not “me.” A “Jew” is not a “Muslim” — who is not a “Christian,” who is not a “Buddhist,” who is not an “atheist,” and, yes, who is not a “Quaker.”

Moreover Quakers (or “Quakers,” if you will) worship as a community, a form that acknowledges a spiritual oneness, however narrowly defined it may be by our “Quaker” beliefs. As a community, we can say we are parts of a whole that is speaking to itself through each of us, but by seeing ourselves as parts, we become separate, even in our coming together.

As Quakers, indeed as human beings, we find it difficult to express what it means to be “of everything.” We are not “part of” everything. We do not “join” with everything.

Rather, we ARE it.

If only we could say and affirm that—as one.