Finding the Divine in a Mosh Pit¹

by Kirsten Cole
Brooklyn Meeting

On a recent Saturday night I was brought to tears of joy as I watched about 80 people of various ages gathered at the Brooklyn Meetinghouse enthusiastically dance to a punk rock cover of Leonard Cohen’s song "Hallelujah." Over the course of the evening Brooklyn Meeting’s social hour room was filled with an audience of mostly young people who were there for a show featuring five different bands. The event was curated by several Brooklyn Meeting teens and supported by adult organizers from the meeting community. (Full disclosure: The drummer in one of the bands is my own 17 year old.) Their vision was for a celebration of art and music by and for young people and that the space affirm and celebrate the LGBTQIA+ community. In addition to the bands who performed, young graffiti artists were invited to bring canvases to hang around the dance floor. The organizers decided together to collect voluntary donations at the door that would be contributed to the Vera Institute for Justice in support of their work to end mass incarceration. Though they really didn’t need us, a handful of adult members of the Brooklyn Meeting community attended that evening to support the young folks and to share in the joy that they created. Most of us were fully outfitted with ear plugs and one of us wore a threadbare Ramones t-shirt from shows at CBGB’s in the 1970s. All of us smiled ear to ear as a transcendent evening unfolded.

A few weeks before the show, one of the adult organizers made an announcement about the upcoming show at the rise of meeting for worship. He explained, “We did a really radical thing. We asked our teens what they would want to do if they could organize an event for young people. And they told us. And we listened.” At a time when we are deeply engaged in conversations about the direction of Quakerism, it’s powerful to be reminded that building toward our future might be easier to achieve if we open our hearts and minds and listen to the next generation.

While the evening itself was magical, what has unfolded since then has moved me even more deeply. 90% of the young people who attended the show were not themselves Quakers, but attended because they follow one or more of the bands that were performing. Members of these bands came to the meeting house a few times before the show for planning discussions held during social hour. As they talked to the teen and adult organizers about the space, they also learned about what we do there when we’re not hosting loud, all-ages punk shows. As a result, since that evening, a handful of young people have returned each week to attend meeting for worship. One non-Quaker band member even encouraged their parent to start attending, and both have gotten involved in Brooklyn Meeting’s Pride planning discussions.

As a lifelong Quaker I have always felt that my capacity for a direct experience of the spirit, unmediated by a hierarchical religious structure, enables my faith. Unsurprisingly, this space of possibility makes Quakerism appealing to many young people. As a parent of two teenagers, I am reminded time and again that my own kids are in an amazing stage of development, a time when they are practicing the skill of standing on their own, independent of adult caregivers. In addition to being amazed, I am also tested in my faith in them and myself. I am learning to be able to let go, to listen and learn, and to watch them navigate what it means to be themselves, to be human. Since that night at Brooklyn Meeting, and every Sunday since, I have been moved by the recognition of just how much is possible when we make space for all of us to speak the messages that are written in our hearts, even when I may occasionally need to travel with an extra set of ear plugs.

¹ I couldn’t resist the poetry of this headline, but, in fact, this event did not include an actual mosh pit. While there was joyous and energetic movement, out of safety concerns, everyone respected the request that the dance floor stop short of becoming an actual mosh pit.