SPRING 2003Phil Anthony
Coordinator
ome years ago I took part in worship that degenerated into a wrangling between Christocentric and Universalist members of the meeting. Eventually a visitor to the meeting stood and opened up a message that has provided much reflection for me ever since.
He told the story of the six blind men and the elephant. You remember it—none of the men had ever encountered such an animal, and one by one they stumbled forward to feel it and describe what they’d experienced. One touched its ear and said the elephant was quite like a fan. The next took hold of its trunk and countered, No, it was like a snake. And so on, through its tusks (spears), leg (tree trunk), side (a wall), and tail (a rope). With such diverse experiences, they ended up in a brawl over which was correct.
The visitor finished by saying that of course all of them were partly right, and all were mostly wrong. What’s important is to listen to one another’s experience and learn more than any of us can know alone. “I’ll tell you about my elephant,” he concluded, “if you’ll tell me about yours.”
Over the years it’s struck me that the image was much truer to spiritual reality than the often recommended technique of translating other people’s faith language into my own to gain from what they’re saying. That technique wouldn’t have helped the six blind men very much. A snake and a rope aren’t totally different, for instance, but if I translate your rope into my snake, I’ll miss the truth of your experience. And I don’t know what I’d make of the tree trunk!
Instead, I realized, I was being advised to take others’ faith language at face value—whether it’s Goddess-language or Christ-language or universal field theory of a rightly ordered world. It may not be my language—and I’m correct to hold to the language that interprets the Divine as closely as possible to what I’ve personally experienced. Still, I need to enter into your language, different as it may be, and understand it as deeply as I can before I try to integrate your insights into my faith. Can God be both a spear and a wall?
It was a deeply Christian message John Woolman was giving when the Native American said, “I love to hear where the words come from.” I believe Woolman also recognized the presence of the Divine in the non-Christian structure of his listener’s belief. Each could be touched by what the other had learned of the one God while accepting that their experiences, and their interpretations, hadn’t been identical.
Another reflection on that message, and the story the visitor told, has also occurred to me. Perhaps there was a seventh blind man whom the story forgot to mention. This one also inched his way forward—and grasped the pump from which the elephant’s handler had been watering the beast. “I see,” he shouted, “that the elephant is very like a water pump!”
Sometimes I think of it as a warning. It’s quite easy to mistake a human-made device for the realities of the Spirit. And it’s an attractive temptation. I’ll never understand all there is to know about God, but I can certainly wrap my poor mortal mind around how a water pump works. There’s a name for that kind of thinking, the substitution of something made by man for the ineffable Divine. It’s called idolatry.
As Quakers, prizing each person’s story of her or his intimate relationship with God, avoiding any suggestion of creed, I think we’re particularly susceptible to that kind of idolatry. My imaginings, after all, are as good as yours. How often have we heard someone say: “I wouldn’t presume to speak for all Quakers ... ” as though there’s no truth, only opinion.
Fortunately, Quakerism comes with a built-in corrective mechanism, if we choose to take advantage of it. We have the witness of our own tradition, and of our fellow worshippers, to compare our experience with. They can suggest, gently and lovingly, “Dear Friend, the real elephant is over there.”
Am I ready to follow the counsel of other Friends in worship, in journals, in conversation? No, I confess, not always. And sometimes, perhaps rarely, I shouldn’t. After all, I also need to be true to what I’ve been given. I have faith (and experience, if truth be told) that eventually, if I’m too far wrong, the Creator of the universe will correct me personally. But sometimes the Creator speaks to me in the voice of Friends!
In the meantime, dear Friend—I’ll welcome listening to your elephant, if you’ll listen to mine. By God’s grace we’ll both be richer, and closer to Truth.
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Last modified:
Wednesday, February 18, 2004 at 08:19 AM
