Myrton’s Organ

Quaker Practice

Music expresses that which cannot be said

And on which it is impossible to be silent.

George Fox led the Quaker schism in 1647, and the Johnson ancestors were early converts to Quaker beliefs and practices. While the Quakers are a Christian denomination, they do not have an official creed of beliefs. This is because they share the view that it is possible to have a direct, unmediated communion with the Divine. Quakers do not believe in a creator God, which is external to the individual, but rather they hold the divine spark of creativity, goodness, and truth resides within each individual heart. Silent meditation is the traditional method for gaining communion with the Devine, so in the early years Quaker meetings were conducted in silence. The meetings began when the head elder enters the room and sits down, and terminates when one of the congregation members (designated in advance) shakes hands with his or her neighbors. During the silent meetings, it may happen that a person experiences a communion with what is variously called “the Inward Light,” or “the Christ within,” or “the Seed of Truth,” and under such circumstances it is acceptable for the person to stand and share the essence of this communion with others. Quakers recognize that there is “that of God” within each human heart, so it is incumbent on each person to gain access to that truth. Quakers were originally called “The Religious Society of Friends of Truth” (John 15:15), but over the years this was shortened to “Society of Friends.”

After Myrton’s 1897 graduation from Earlham College, he taught school at the Rich Square Friends Academy while also working his father’s farm, about one mile away. The teaching brought Myrton into contact with all of the younger members of the farm community, for many years, so he was widely known and respected. This was likely important for why he was eventually selected as Head Man of the Quaker meetings, or church services, beginning in the 1920s. Rich Square could not afford a minister, so their community was led by lay leadership. Earlham College in Richmond was only 40 miles away, however, so it was common for the theology students to come and lead a service, or present a talk.

During the 1920s, some of the younger Friends expressed an interest in adding music to the Sunday service. This interest was stimulated by those who were able to attend Earlham College, a “modern” influence for this traditional rural community. It is important to recognize what “music” was during the 1920s. This was a period before any “popular” music was known to the agrarian heartland, before the development of radio or radio stations or radio programming, many years before popular phonographs or television. Today almost all of us have grown up after the development of popular music, and we readily associate various songs or artists with important turning points of our coming-of-age, social identity, hometown communities, friendships and loves, critical life crises or epiphanies, and so on. In his seminal book Baby Boomer Rock “n” Roll Fans: The Music Never Ends, Joseph Kotarba (2013) brilliantly analyzes the complicated meanings of music as a cultural resource that helps individuals locate or identify the Self in extended duration (time). Kotarba advocates for a symbolic interactionist perspective on music, which looks at how cultural resources such as music are used by actors to make sense of their experience in the everyday world. But in rural Indiana of this period, “music” meant classical music or traditional church music. The music scores were printed on sheet music, and commonly performed on a piano or other instruments. In churches or religious settings, J. S. Bach is the classical giant. He is “the Shakespeare of religious music,” with no equal in expressing the full range and subtlety of human emotions with music. One adaptation of Bach is God Is my Strong Salvation (1822, adapted from Bach, 1723), and another is Lord of All Majesty and Might (1539, adapted from Bach). There were American favorites as well, such as Holy, Holy, Holy (1826), For the Beauty of the Earth (1864), Away, old Soul (adapted from Walt Whitman, 1870), Nearer My God to Thee (1841), Silent Night, Holy Night (1818), and many others.

The sentiments to integrate music within the traditional liturgy met with resistance at Rich Square.

Music and the Experience of Ultimate Reality

After silence, that which comes nearest to

expressing the inexpressible is music.

A group of younger Quakers requested the integration of music into the regular (previously silent) Quaker services. They were supported by their former teacher at the Rich Square Academy, Myrton Johnson, and some of their parents. Their position was articulated by recent Earlham graduate Mary Hoover. In the open meetings to discuss this new idea, she quoted Henry Wadsworth Longfellow that “music is the universal language of mankind,” additionally observing that music can express the intangible or ineffable aspects of human experience, which are for many very difficult to express in words. She forcefully argued that music can express the essence of life itself, that music may express human emotionality in a manner beyond the reaches of cognition or rationality, and so it is a complement to silent meditation, not a contradiction of it. The young people at Rich Square nodded in agreement with her eloquence.

Mary Hoover’s proposal was met with the full wrath of the traditionalists, led by the gruff but well-educated farmer Elijah Williams, also a graduate of Earlham, fully two decades before Myrton had stepped onto the Richmond campus. Elijah reminded community members that Quaker devotional practice was self-consciously “radical,” in the literal meaning of that term, which means a return to the foundations or fundamentals. The goal or purpose of Quaker silent meditation was to provide an opportunity to reflect upon and break down the conceited separation of Self and The Devine, he insisted. The thinking or reflecting Self commonly knows itself by thinking about and separating from what is thought about, and in our everyday practical lives we do not consider the origin of this. Rationally thinking about the origin is not the same thing as actually knowing or experiencing the origin personally, and this is what happens in Quaker silent meditation. Quaker silent meditation is a time set aside specifically for this purpose, to unify with the unconditional love of The Creator. This process cannot be aided by music. It will be hampered by it, Elijah said with confidence, because music will lead our minds astray from the foundations of existence. Mary Hoover’s comments acknowledge this, Elijah asserted, by admitting that music leads our minds into the murky area of “ineffable” or “inexpressible” emotions. Music will not enhance or complement traditional Quaker practice, Elijah Williams concluded that music will destroy the practice.

Mary Hoover countered by asserting that music has the potential to elevate the mind to a realm, which transcends individual thought or identity, and so it is one means to achieve transcendence of the corporeal world. Music can show us how we are continuously reborn in God’s unconditional love, and how the Self is dissolved in this love. Music does not take the individual away from awareness or consciousness, she insisted; the transcendental potential of music can show us how the objective and subjective realms of existence are conflated to a common core: God’s love.

Elijah Williams countered that such glib opinions reflect the conceits of youth, the hubris that the mind can grasp the process of grasping. It is only by a disciplined practice of silent meditation, he said, can we hope to experience the reality of being born and dying in the unification of God’s unconditional love; music will only divert us from this true path.

Impasse, Response, and Crisis

Music is to the mind as air is to the body.

The views and opinions about music were refined and expressed over several years, but the traditional silent service did not change. One unique aspect of Quaker governance is that any proposal or decision must achieve a unanimous consensus before being adopted by the community. When there is any conflict or disagreement, Quakers return to silent mediation for guidance. This requirement has proven mischievous for many Quaker communities. To use just one example from Tempe, Arizona, during the 1980s, after a wealthy benefactor had provided the financial resources for a new meeting house on 15th street, the members could not achieve a consensus on whether the windows should be covered with blinds or drapes. These Hicksite Quakers argued with each other for 5 years, and it was not until the “drapery faction,” led by the bellicose Roger Axford, a former Arizona State University (ASU) professor, left the congregation (and joined the Unitarian Universalists in Chandler), that the required “consensus” was achieved in favor of the blinds.

At the Rich Square Friends Meeting during the 1920s and 1930s, there was no consensus on the proposal to integrate music. There was an impasse, and continued discussions only created more articulate and “rational” arguments for each side.

To break the impasse Myrton Johnson proposed to obtain a stand-up piano with monies donated from private sources, and to begin an episodic “experiment” with traditional music compositions, to see how the members would respond. This was at first denounced as a subversion of the traditionally accepted manner of making such decisions, but most members had grown weary by this conflict, and acquiesced to Myrton’s idea. A used stand-up piano was obtained, and the experiment began.

Music was introduced into the meetings at Rich Square, at first once a month, and later more frequently. It appeared that many members welcomed this novel addition to their silent practices. After about 10 months, Friends showed up at this idyllic “church in the wildwood” to find their piano smashed into small pieces.

This was a major crisis. Much more was lost than a mere object, a piano. This was truly a loss of innocence. Lost were a set of assumptions about Self and community, indeed, assumptions about human nature. Lost were taken-for-granted ideas about what it means to have a community of like-minded Friends, joined together to survive in a challenging wilderness. Lost were strong feelings of association and fraternity, primordial emotional bonds, which had existed and flourished since childhood for many.

The Rich Square Friends wondered aloud how this could happen. Some speculated about who could have done this destruction, but they did not “wonder” or “speculate” for very long. The community was small, perhaps 40 families, with less than half being involved in the controversy over music. The discerning members did not take long to cull the roll for a “short list” of likely perpetrators. There were rumors that identified certain parties, then countered by other rumors that identified others, and additional rumors that contradicted these. It was a confusing time, with no precedent in the experience of these stalwart central Indiana farmers. In a short period of time, many of the Rich Square Friends expressed nostalgia for the good old days.

There were no calls for action. There were no calls for investigation. There were no calls to get to the bottom of this, to find the truth. The damage had been done, and everyone knew there was no redemption. The glass had broken into so many pieces that no craftsmanship could restore it.

Still, life at Rich Square continued.

Continued Life at Rich Square

The organ, the master instrument, is the

voice of the Christian Church, the “seraph

haunted queen of harmony,” sounding like

an echo from a mystic and hidden world.

No one talked about the smashed piano for 2 years. There were hushed speculations in private moments, but at the community level the smashed piano disappeared as an issue. Life at Rich Square continued on as before.

Then, without advance notice, at one of the community meetings Elijah Williams asked Myrton Johnson for permission to speak. Being very careful not to look in the direction of Mary Hoover, Elijah said that he wanted to express gratitude to the community, and all ancestors, for being given the opportunity to explore the fundamental layers of the human spirit, in such a supportive community as Rich Square. He said that he was forced to admit that his continued contemplations had revealed the intricate relationships between human emotion and rational reflection. He had discovered that, with some chagrin, many of his earlier thoughts had involved complicated inter-connections between thinking and feeling, and that even at his advanced age and wisdom, the precise nature of some of these inter-relations remain a mystery. He begged the forbearance of the Friends gathered, for the disjointed musings of an old man. Mary Hoover was quick to stand, being scrupulous to avoid any eye contact with Elijah. She said she wanted to express agreement with Brother Elijah, and his gratitude for a supportive community to explore the depths of the human spirit. She further opined that her ongoing contemplations tended to find agreement with Brother Elijah’s comment concerning the complicated inter-relations of emotions and cognitions, that serious reflection suggested this was a misleading if not false dichotomy. Cognition and emotion appeared to be joined, in many instances, she said, and furthermore, they appeared as significant aspects of the human confrontation with the divine, whether they were separated or joined. Fannie Simpson then spoke. She said that, whatever one thinks about the origins of the divine, individuals can propitiate and honor the mystery in different ways.

There were no further discussions of this matter at Rich Square. Several months later, Myrton acquired a used organ. Music has been part of the service for more than 80 years now.

Methodological Note

This article is a product of my ethnographic imagination. While my grandfather Myrton Lewis Johnson was real, as was his role in the controversy about music at the Rich Square Friends Meeting, the comments attributed to “Mary Hoover” and “Elijah Williams” and “Fannie Simpson” are fictional. Any dialogue attributed to these persons should not be quoted or considered the actual words of speakers. All direct quotations are given in quote marks. The opinions of the speakers are the conjecture of the author, who follows the lead of his good friend and brilliant scholar Norman K. Denzin (2008, 2010, 2011, 2013), a pioneer in new approaches to autoethnography and performance ethnography.