Silence

 

Silence

Image courtesy of Wikimedia Commons

                                    Poppies at the Tower of London, 2014

Quakers, or the Religious Society of Friends, gather for worship in a very different way to most religions. There are no hymns or prayers, no sermons or sacraments, just a group of people who meet for about an hour and sit in silence facing each other, perhaps in a circle.  The meeting begins as soon as one person enters the Meeting Room to sit and ends when two Quakers, usually elders, shake hands.

Quakerism is a way of life, not a set of beliefs. The enduring, overriding conviction is that ‘there is that of God in everyone’. Now, people may speak more of Spirit or Light – there is no definition of God.

As people sit together in silence a person may be moved to speak and the subject matter may be anything that a speaker feels it is important to share. The purpose is to consider what has been said, not to start a debate.

                                    Bethan on her second birthday, with Sam

Our youngest daughter attended a Quaker school from the age of 11 to 18. Pupils and teachers alike addressed each other by their first names. The ethos of the school was honesty, equality and respect. The intention was to allow each individual to develop his or her own character and strengths.

Part of the daily curriculum was Collect, the equivalent of assembly for worship in other schools, a requirement in all UK schools. Sometimes a teacher or a student would feel the need to speak. One boy spoke in Collect to say that he was gay. Others might confess to feelings of fear or despair. Every Collect had a period of silence, of reflection.

Periodically, Sunday evening Collect was an opportunity for parents to join the school community. Normally, an invited speaker addressed the school – it might be a diplomat, a senior military officer, a journalist or other interesting person of note. The addresses were thought-provoking and always followed by the silence, a period of about ten minutes when no-one moved or spoke.

To sit in absolute silence for a period of time in a large congregation was not easy. Gradually, the silence deepened and the mind stilled. When it ended, at a signal from the senior teacher present, there was a sense of release and renewal.

                                Bethan, aged four, with Biddy, Daisy and Cariadd

Our daughter was a quiet, thoughtful child and the school allowed her to grow at her own pace into a patient, confident and compassionate adult. She may have developed in that way, anyway – her siblings have – but as the youngest, with a considerable age gap between her and them, a Quaker education was invaluable in encouraging her to find her own voice in the family.

Broadmoor

Image courtesy of Daily Mail and Wikimedia Commons

Many of you will already know that Barry and I live in a village in Berkshire. Crowthorne is not an attractive, chocolate box spot with thatched roofs and roses round the door, but more of a place you travel through to reach somewhere else. Since the bypass was built about twenty years ago most people don't even have to go anywhere near it now. I say that we live in the village but that is rather misleading for although our postal address is Crowthorne, geographically we live in Wokingham Without. (Without what, you may ask.)
Crowthorne is known mainly for two institutions – Wellington College, originally a boys' independent school but now co-educational. Fees are around £30,000 per annum. At the other end of the village, on the edge of the forest, is Broadmoor Hospital, the best-known of England's three high-security psychiatric hospitals. It houses 260 men and costs about £100,000 per patient per annum. During the First World War part of the hospital was used as a prisoner of war camp for German soldiers who were mentally ill. It was known as Crowthorne War Hospital.

Image courtesy of Sun and Wikimedia Commons

In 1952 one of the inmates escaped and murdered a local five-year-old girl. Local residents called for a warning method to alert the community to escapes and a system of warning sirens was established. These are based on the air-raid sirens so familiar during the Second World War and are tested for two minutes every Monday morning at 10:00. The two-note wail is then followed by a single tone 'all clear' for another two minutes. Every school within hearing of the siren has procedures to follow if the alarm warns of an escape. Basically, the schools lock all doors and windows and children are not allowed to leave except into the care of a known adult. It only happened once when I was teaching, in 1991, and it was not a pleasant experience.
Escapes are rare - the last serious one, in 1991, was of a child rapist. Road blocks were set up and vehicles were checked. At the time, Barry was just starting out for a run with the dogs. On the track entering the forest police had strung a tape on the understanding, presumably, that no-one would think to go either side of it. They stopped Barry and showed him a photo of the escapee and said, 'If you see him, run back here and tell us'. They had no intention of going into the trees!
Barry didn't see the escapee but he was recaptured two days later.
Many years ago a patient escaped but was so frightened by the unfamiliarity of the outside world that he gave himself up very soon.
It is thought but not proven that Jack the Ripper, who murdered prostitutes in the London of the 1880s, was Thomas Cutbush. He was a main suspect in the murders, which ceased after his arrest. He was committed to Broadmoor after being declared insane and died there in 1903.
Another murderer who was in Broadmoor for a time was Robert Maudsley. He was the inspiration for Hannibal Lecter. Current patients include the Yorkshire Ripper and the Stockwell Strangler.
One of the most interesting inmates was W C Minor, a retired American army surgeon. He was not considered a danger and so was allowed to buy books from London. Through his association with booksellers he learnt of the call for entries to what would become the Oxford English Dictionary. He sent thousands of contributions to the editor, Dr James Murray, who became very interested in his prolific correspondent and subsequently visited him in Broadmoor.
The hospital provides employment for many local people. It is often said, rather unkindly, that the nurses are more frightening than the patients! | must say that the ones we've met, walking their dogs, are friendly and have a great sense of humour. That must help in a job that could be soul-destroying. It's hard to find humanity in men who have committed such heinous crimes but, as the Quakers say, we must strive to find 'that of God' in every man.