With a strong belief in honesty and a refusal to swear oaths, members of the 3,000-strong Quaker community in Ireland tell
Miriam Mulcahyabout their faith and how it affects the way they live
FOUNDED BY GEORGE FOX, a dissenter in Cromwell’s England, the Religious Society of Friends believed the light of God to be in everyone, that anyone can speak directly to God, and that sacraments were unnecessary. Even for the puritans, this was a step too far, and the Quakers were mercilessly persecuted for heresy.
The first Quaker meeting took place in Ireland in 1654, and there were meetings in every Irish town up until the 20th century.
Famous for their business methods, by which they practised honesty above else – much to the distaste of their Irish customers, who were loath to buy anything without engaging in a bout of haggling – a refusal to swear oaths of any kind is what led many of them into business, as they could not attend university.
Like the rest of the Irish, their fate was governed by political upheaval and natural disaster. Though they were renowned for their good works during the Famine, after it, they too were forced to emigrate, many to the eastern US.
A strict policy of “dismembering” also led to a dramatic decline in numbers; the practice involved the cutting off from the community of a member if they married a non-Quaker.
The Quakers’ plain dress and dismembering are long gone. Many of the great Quaker businesses are now part of multinational conglomerates; for instance, Bewley’s, Cadburys, Schweppes and Rowntree’s were all founded by Quaker families.
There are 3,000 Quakers in Ireland, North and South; they live by the principles of honesty and still refuse to swear oaths.
Richard Kimbell, Peace activist
Growing up a non-Quaker in Maine in the US in the 1960s, Kimbell could not square what he was being told with what he saw happening around him. “In Sunday school, we learned, ‘Thou Shall Not Kill’, but there are only two Christian denominations, the Quakers and the Mennonites, that did not allow their people to fight in a war. Brothers of friends went to Vietnam.”
He joined the US Peace Corps in 1985 and went to Tunisia. While there, he visited a PLO embassy in Tunis. Three weeks later the embassy was bombed by the Israelis, and all within its walls were killed. Kimbell decided he could never live in the US again. Through a family friend, he got an offer to work on a Galway trawler, which he accepted immediately. He found it very difficult to get a work permit, but eventually succeeded, and set up a stained-glass business, which he still runs today.
His family were a mixture of Catholic and Presbyterian, and neither religion fired him. “I had heard the stories about Quakers smuggling slaves on the run on the railroads from Portland and into Quebec. They believed slavery was wrong and, very quietly, took a lot of risks with their lives and their freedom to help people escape. I decided to become a Quaker from the point of view of non-violence and social justice.”
In 2002, he visited Palestine, serving with an international solidarity group. “One of the things Palestinians are oppressed by is their inability to trade economically with the outside world. And they have great olive oil and olive oil products.” So he set up a company, Mount of Olives, that imports olive oil from Jenin in the West Bank, sells it at markets and independent shops, and gives the profits back to youth projects and schools.
His wife is Catholic, and he admits to a degree of competition between them in getting their children interested. “There are no Quaker ministers. It’s all up to us. If I go to a [Catholic] church service, it sounds very loud and pompous. With ours, it’s up to everyone to work it out for themselves.”
Terry Gillespie, Anti-violence campaigner
Gillespie jokingly refers to his family as being dysfunctional: his wife is a Church of Ireland minister. “Everybody goes through a phase, questioning where they are. I was raised in the Church of Ireland, and I came to rest with Quakers. I found them very friendly and helpful, there was no pressure.”
It is 15 years since he became a Quaker. “There are only three things that Quakers will agree on: there is that of God in every person; we don’t have all the answers; your religion is for living, rather than talking about.
“If you’re sitting in silence for an hour every Sunday, it does seem like you should do something about something. Honesty is considered to be one of the ultimate virtues. That’s what makes Quaker businesses so different; an honest measure was always given.”
Gillespie, concerned at how violence was seamlessly becoming part of our daily lives, started a campaign to have one day a year where there would be no violence shown on television for entertainment purposes. “The average schoolchild sees 7,000 violent deaths before going into second-level education.” His hopes were quickly dashed; a senior executive told him that if it were known there would be no violence on TV, the audience would be substantially reduced.
He brought his problem to a meeting, where it was discussed, and a committee formed with the aim of reducing violence in society. Next September, they will run a week looking at highlighting violence in society, starting with the United Nations’ day of non-violence. “People think of Quakers and the Famine, but there is an awful lot of stuff happening now. We don’t proselytise; there is absolutely no pressure on anyone to join. It’s very tolerant.”
Ballitore Quakers
Quakers established the village of Ballitore in Co Kildare as an educational centre of excellence, with students coming from all over the world to study at the school established by Abraham Shackleton. Its famous alumni included Edmund Burke and Cardinal Cullen, who was born in the village. The houses are low-slung and solid, the streets wide and spacious.
Although Ballitore can no longer be called a Quaker village, Friends still come to its Meeting House, built in 1708, to worship. Old wooden benches face each other in rows. A small fire blazes in the grate; light from the flames dances off the exposed brick walls and scrubbed wooden floor. All is simplicity, grace, and quiet. There are no crosses, no holy pictures, no statues; there are prints and tapestries commemorating past generations of Friends, and a riot of winter birdsong filters through the ancient sash windows.
Members choose their places and sit in earnest quiet, eyes closed, listening for the spirit within. The silence is intense. Twenty minutes in, a member raises a query, and falls silent. If ever God were to speak, this is how he would be heard. After the meeting there is tea and coffee, lots of banter and a genuine welcome.
George and Erica Allen were married in this meeting house over a decade ago. George’s grand-daughter is the 12th generation of Allen Quakers. He likes the general outlook, “the emphasis on pacifism, simplicity and truth. We don’t talk easily about our beliefs. The truth is very important to us. Quakers have always been known to speak the truth.” There is no priest, minister or clergyman at the meetings. “We cut out the middleman,” George laughs. “When you come peacefully and leave troubled, that’s a good meeting.”
A great-aunt of Erica’s was a Quaker, and when she died, her family, moved by the simplicity of the burial service, began attending. She applied for membership at the age of 13. There are no sacraments such as baptism; members join of their own volition, anyone can attend for as long as they wish without ever being pressured to join.
Ceremonies such as weddings and funerals are conducted through the normal meetings. The bride and groom stand up and exchange vows, the meeting continues for worship and members might speak and wish the couple well, and afterwards, everyone signs the wedding register. Erica delights in the freedom of the Quakers. “I don’t have someone there on a Sunday, telling me what I must or must not believe. You make your own judgments. My own inner voice is telling me what to believe. The only prayer we believe is the Lord’s prayer; there’s a bit of the saint in everyone. With some people, you just have to scratch a little harder to find it.”
Olive Hobson, Quaker House Belfast
Hobson was brought up a Brethern, an evangelical section of the Protestant faith. She knew nothing about the Quakers until she got married. “My work would be around conflict resolution in Northern Ireland. I realised the Quakers were doing amazing work here, peace-weaving, I would call it.” Quaker House Belfast, established in 1982, was a neutral meeting place for both sides to negotiate during the conflict. “It was very low profile – it needed to be. It was decided a safe space could be provided by Quakers, who have the reputation of being impartial in a conflict situation, so a house was bought and ‘house parents’ were put in place; they had a wealth of knowledge about the nuances around the conflict. Meetings were held there that were highly confidential. All sides experienced hospitality in Quaker House in those days.”
Quaker House Belfast is still active in times of peace, working with the past, and towards the future. By their nature, Quakers were always on the outside of the conflict, but ever ready to be a part of solving it. For Hobson, the non-violence ethos is hugely important, “not to be passive, but to be active participants in a non-violent way.That’s what I like about the Quaker belief systems.” She believes the Quakers could do more to bring their work to the attention of others. “We are working towards social justice. It has been perceived to be low key, but when you think about people like the Guinnesses, the Cadburys, the Schweppes – they weren’t low key. They worked on quite a grand scale. Quaker work is done all over the world. Most people in Ireland are not aware of the work being done.
“There’s a significance about women’s contributions and a sense of justice. I also like the way Quakers minister to one another – you don’t come away feeling you were preached at. The times of silence – for one hour in the week, your mind can wander wherever it wants.”
Cullen Allen, Young Quaker
A scion of the Ballymaloe Allens, Cullen is following in the family tradition of food, with the award-winning pie and soup company, Cully Sully. “I grew up in the hotel: my memories are of running around in bare feet, and swimming all summer long in the pool. We ate in the hotel all the time, the food was fantastic.”
The family went to the quarterly and yearly Quaker meetings. “We would do the food. The yearly meetings were great, there was a great turnout and we would cook up chicken pilaf or a big pot of curry. Always growing up, I loved how everyone was treated equally – especially kids.”
Allen went to the Quaker boarding school at Newtown in Co Waterford. “At Newtown, the Quaker teachers had a different attitude: you were treated as an adult from a very young age. Opinions were taken seriously.” Newtown is a famously liberal school, run according to the Quaker ethos. “It comes back to giving people the freedom to be responsible for themselves. There was no emphasis on getting super-high grades, there was a lot of room for self-expression.”
There is a strong imprint of Ballymaloe on Allen’s food business. “My grandmother has given us recipes, and allowed us to use the brand.” He is keenly aware of his privilege. “Darina and my grandmother are very highly respected, they are great campaigners. My parents are massively supportive of the whole thing, and the fact that it’s successful, they get a buzz out of it, too. It’s very much a helping hand.”
He is a strong believer in businesses giving something back. “I’d have huge respect for the Quaker philosophy. There should be mutual respect everywhere. All the honesty with money, straightforwardness, is really important. With the Quaker religion, the silent meeting for worship, being left there in your own thoughts is a very positive thing. It’s time to reflect, which is a very powerful thing to do.”
www.quakers-in-ireland.org