Affirmation

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Affirmation

10/09/16

In an attempt to be a civic-minded Quaker, I recently took advantage of the opportunity to work at a polling station during the highly contentious Indiana primary elections of 2016. One of my earliest memories of voting was a conversation I had with my father as we drove to the polling station after I had turned 18. He explained that if I voted Republican, one set of grandparents would be terribly upset, and if I voted Democrat, I should keep it quiet in another family member’s household. He explained that many folks simply voted the party ticket, rather than for individuals. I was appalled early on that I had to choose a party during primary elections but begrudgingly did so after the purpose was explained to me. I vote for the individual, often not paying attention to party affiliation, unless it’s plastered in my face.

Four o’clock in the morning on Election Tuesday seemed very early, but all of the poll workers at my station were on time. I was glad to be early so I could learn some of the unofficial worker traditions, ways, and language (read:  pastry and coffee). I was not acquainted with my co-workers but quickly discovered I was one of two Democratic representatives working that day, and I would be working with two Republican representatives and one supervisor. I also quickly discovered that I was a talking point – in my county of residence, Democrats have historically been a rarity, an oddity, even. Folks talked about me as if I wasn’t in the room, and if I wasn’t even a person – “why there’s Democrats who live here now. They’ve moved in.”

Our last order of business, before we opened the books to the waiting line of voters (what a wonderful sight!), was to recite the Official Oath of Election Workers. We were standing in a circle, and I shook my head. “I’m sorry, I can’t do that,” I said. “I’m a Quaker, and we don’t do oaths.”

My supervisor looked stunned and she blinked several times. Everyone was holding their breath, waiting for her answer. She acted as if I had said nothing, and passed out the pages to us, from which we were to read. My democratic co-worker noticed at the top of the page, where it started: “I pledge or affirm …”

“Oh, I can do that!” I exclaimed at 5:50 a.m. “I can affirm this.” Everyone sighed in relief, we joined our voices in unison, with my exception. Afterwards, I explained that Quakers have a testimony of Integrity, that since the earliest times of our history, Quakers believe that our word is just as truthful on the street as it is in a courtroom, that there was no need for an oath.  Our word was honest no matter where we were and no matter to whom we were talking.

“I wish more people were like that today,” one of my coworkers declared, and everyone agreed. We went to our stations, opened the doors, and allowed the rights of the citizenship to take place.

Sometimes when we talk about our testimonies, we stumble, attempting to bridge the gap between the time of George Fox and today. For example, the men of that day refused to tip their hats due to the belief that their peers were indeed peers, not one man deserving more respect than another because of their social station. Is there a comparable issue we have with equality and culture today which we can address?

I am grateful for an opportunity to practice my faith in a supposedly secular setting, and to share that our historical roots are as relevant now as they were in the time of our ancestors.

Susann Estle-Cronau is the mother of college students Case and Chloe, full-time Chaplain at Putnamville Correctional Facility, part-time pastor at Hopewell Friends, and part-time Chaplain at Hendricks Regional Health Hospital.

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