Rufus Jones on George Fox
September 3, 2016 § 5 Comments
I have been reading Rufus Jones’ The Faith and Practice of the Quakers, which I find is really good. My goal has been to find definitively, if I can, where and when Rufus Jones reinterpreted Fox’s phrase “that of God in everyone” to mean a divine spark on the model of the neo-Platonic philosophers and gnostics. I think it’s actually in Studies in Mystical Religion, written in 1909, which I am also reading. Faith and Practice was written much later, in 1927.
I wanted to pass on the two paragraphs that appear below about George Fox because they are so wonderfully written and so insightful, and because they touch on my search in a manner that seems to contradict the impression I have about the divine spark idea. I have replaced Jones’s generic “man” in the text with gender-inclusive alternatives because I don’t want his language to interfere with our reading. And I have colored the text that I want to discuss after the excerpt.
We have in Fox a man who felt himself called to be a religious reformer. He was a mystic, not a scholastic or a rationalist. He was a prophet, not a priest or a scribe. He new extremely little Church history; he had as good as no theological learning; he was not even well versed in the literature of the movements which prepared the way for his mission. He well nigh knew the Bible by heart, but he had no historical knowledge of its background and no critical insight into the original meaning of texts or the purpose and significance of the different books of the great volume which he loved. He depended on flashes and openings and he turned most naturally to the luminous passages which proclaimed inward religion and announced the light and guidance of the Spirit. Under the constructive and integrating power of his experiences and his convictions, he became a strong and vigorous personality. He was changed from a weak, shy and timorous youth to a robust and fearless man. When once he had unsealed his commission and felt assured of his call, there was nothing on earth that could daunt him or terrify him. His greatest danger was not from without; it was from within. He broke with external authority; he had at the first few good counsellors; he was subject to visions; he was swept with enthusiasms; he was living in a time of seething dreams and expectations; he was visited by ranters and fanatics, yet he kept his head and, with slight exceptions, maintained his balance. Each year saw him growing steadier and wiser, and he came through the turmoils and the testings with sanity, poise and judgment. William Penn very finely says of him: “I write my knowledge and not report, and my witness is true, having been with him for weeks and months together on diversse occasions, and those of the nearest and most exercising nature, and that by night and by day, by sea and by land, in this and in foreign countries, and I can say I never saw him out of his place, or not a match for every service or occasion.”
When Fox started forth, in 1647–48, to be, as he believed, the prophet and apostle of a new and complete reformation, his battle-idea was the continuous revelation of God’s will in the soul of [the human]. He had been convinced by his own experience, by the testimony of those whom he met among the spiritual sects, and finally by the great seeds in Scripture, that there is a direct illumination from God within [the human’s] inner being. He met the Calvinist theory of a congenital seed of sin in the new-born child by the counter claim that there is a seed of God in every soul. This “seed” or “light”, which he proclaimed, was thought of as a capacity of response to divine intimations and openings, a basis of inward communication and correspondence between God and [the human] and a moral searchlight revealing to [us] the absolute distinction between right and wrong, making the path of righteousness and truth unmistakable. When he began his itinerant ministry, he had not thought through the implications of his discovery ; he had, of course, made no psychological or philosophical analysis of the ground for such a faith—he had merely leaped to the height of his great conviction, and he felt at once that it put Christianity on a new basis of authority. The master key was in the hand of the individual [person]. Nobody else could “open and shut”. The significant and eternal realities are those inward decisions, when the soul says “yes” or “no” to God. Fox no doubt overstressed the range and scope of inward guidance. He made it more specific, concrete and detailed than most of us find it to be. He thought that the organ of revelation in us was like a new sense that opened up a whole new world of life, and the scenery and circumstance of it, in minute detail, could infallibly come through to us. He made communication easier and more common than the facts will warrant, but at all events, the momentous truth seemed clear to thim that religion rests in the last resort not on a book or on a church but on the fundamental nature of [a person’s] inner being.