Friends Journal

The post Quakers and Home appeared first on Friends Journal.

From May 4 through May 22, Friends are walking more than 276 miles from New York City to Washington, D.C., to deliver a copy of the original Flushing Remonstrance to members of the U.S. Congress. Freeholders in what is now New York State wrote the document in 1657. The Remonstrance opposed a directive by then Governor Peter Stuyvesant who said residents should not welcome Quakers in the Dutch colony.

The petition argued that God is the ultimate judge of human actions and that people are morally bound to do good to others. It noted that some people feel jealous and suspicious of Quakers because they do not submit to earthly authorities. The writers of the proclamation expressed their desire to follow the Golden Rule, telling Stuyvesant that they desired to “doe unto all men as we desire all men should doe unto us.”

Participants in the pilgrimage demand that members of Congress acknowledge and safeguard freedom of speech, due process, and the constitutional rights of everyone in the United States, according to the walk’s website.

The group passes under train tracks in Queens, N.Y. on Sunday, May 4, 2025. Photo by Corrie Aune.

Organizer Jess Hobbs Pifer believes Quakers have a responsibility to be stewards of democracy.

“Stewardship is such a core part of Quakerism,” said Hobbs Pifer. She is a member of Germantown Meeting in Philadelphia, Pa., and an attender of Brooklyn (N.Y.) Meeting.

Seventy-four participants had registered for the walk by May 1, according to organizers. They said they expect that number to grow as the walk progresses.

In addition to delivering a copy of the original Flushing Remonstrance, participants will use group discernment to draft a document that seeks to highlight the voices of people directly targeted by the Trump administration. Organizers will ask for input from members of Friends meetings along the walking route, according to Max Goodman, an organizer of the walk. Goodman is a member of Sandy Spring (Md.) Meeting who is sojourning at Brooklyn Meeting.

The idea of religious tolerance articulated in the Flushing Remonstrance became a norm by the time of the U.S. Constitution 132 years later, according to Goodman.

The Constitution was drafted in 1787, ratified in 1788, and went into effect in 1789. The first ten amendments to the Constitution, known as the Bill of Rights, were drafted in 1789 and ratified in 1791.

The Remonstrance “anticipated First Amendment guarantees of religious freedom,” said Thomas Hamm, emeritus professor of history and Quaker scholar in residence at Earlham College in Richmond, Indiana. One of Hamm’s ancestors, Henry Townsend, was a signer of the Remonstrance.

The walk is initiated by Quakers, but organizers hope people with similar values join the journey.

The walk is symbolic and full of implicit meaning, according to organizer Ross Brubeck. The walkers will cross several state borders without any legal impediments, which contrasts with the experience of many immigrants who enter the United States without documentation. Brubeck attends Brooklyn Meeting and considers Sandy Spring Meeting their home meeting.

Goodman would like the walk to highlight values such as hospitality and relief of suffering. He considers it a Christian calling to offer food, shelter, and legal aid to immigrants and others targeted by the Trump administration.

“I really hope we can walk our talk more,” said Goodman.

Quaker meetings along the walking route are letting walkers sleep in their meetinghouses and are hosting potluck dinners for participants. Arranging for accommodations for the walk has required organizers to make many phone calls and send numerous emails.

“The bulk of the organizing has been around connecting people with Quaker communities,” Hobbs Pifer said.

Goodman arranged for participants to use canoes from Baltimore Yearly Meeting for a five-mile segment of the pilgrimage that involves crossing the Susquehanna River from Pennsylvania to Maryland.

On the Sundays of the walk, participants will have the opportunity to worship with meetings in Philadelphia, Pa., and Baltimore, Md.

Stephen Kelly, a lawyer who worships with Brooklyn Meeting, introduced the idea of walking the Flushing Remonstrance from New York to Washington, D.C., at a February meeting for business, according to Brubeck.

The post Quakers Walk from New York City to Washington, D.C., to Share Flushing Remonstrance with Congress appeared first on Friends Journal.

In a world as profoundly abundant as ours, it is a societal failure of monumental proportions that anyone go without safe and comfortable housing. Yet here we are. Quakers everywhere, in the communities where we live, work, and travel, encounter people who are housing insecure. Some Friends, themselves, lack stable housing. In this issue of Friends Journal, we share the stories of Friends who are not content to look away from this distressing reality, but rather follow Spirit’s leadings to care for our neighbors—and in so doing set out upon a generative cycle of kindness.

Jesus’s words in the gospel of Matthew, chapter 25, are cited by multiple authors as part of what drove them to act to combat homelessness and provide care in the many ways they have.

For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in, I was naked and you clothed me, I was sick and you looked after me, I was in prison and you came to visit me.

Reading the stories gathered here, I am struck by a few things. First, it’s remarkable how much housing is interconnected with our other needs. Talking openly about it and seeking solutions within our reach as individuals, families, communities, and societies: these steps may be keys that unlock greater human happiness and fulfillment, keys that allow for a fuller expression of God’s light through the lives of all our neighbors. The second realization I have is this: no matter where we are, be it in a small rural community or a big city, there are ways to use what we have to aid others. The needs of unhoused people in an urban center and those in a Walmart parking lot may look different, but wherever we are, there are neighbors and therefore an obligation of care.

We are fortunate to have some excellent Quaker models of urgency and clarity in the exhortation to do something to help. Sitting with these stories prompted me to page through John Woolman’s Journal. In an entry from 1759, recalling the proceedings of a yearly meeting “under the weight” of Friends’ deliberations regarding slaveholding, Woolman quotes from the epistle born out of their fruitful discernment:

To keep a watchful eye towards real objects of charity, to visit the poor in their lonesome dwelling places, to comfort them who through the dispensations of divine providence are in strait and painful circumstances in this life, and steadily to endeavour to honour God with our substance from a real sense of the love of Christ influencing our minds thereto, is more likely to bring a blessing to our children and will afford more satisfaction to a Christian favoured with plenty than an earnest desire to collect much wealth to leave behind us. . . .

Finally, brethren, whatsoever things are true . . . whatsoever things are just, whatsoever things are pure, whatsoever things are lovely, whatsoever things are of good report; if there be any virtue, if there be any praise, think on these things . . . and do them, and the God of peace shall be with you.

“Think on these things and do them.” I look forward to hearing what Friends today are led to do—and to sharing their stories with you, reader.

The post Honoring God with Our Substance appeared first on Friends Journal.

This has been a winter to remember. The text message came about 3 p.m. A man who signed up for work at a nearby church that was taking in homeless people couldn’t make it. “Can you come in?”

A week ago, I had signed up as a backup in case a volunteer had a problem. This night, indeed, was a big problem: it had warmed up to only ten degrees on this February afternoon.

It had snowed all day and stayed so cold that I hadn’t bothered to get dressed: just read and did some writing in my jammies because our apartment warmed-up so slowly. It had been a long time since I’d seen a storm in the Ozarks like the one we had this frigid President’s Day.

“Sure, I’m still good with coming in, if I’m needed.”

It was only the second time I’d worked the all-night shift at the Unitarian church. I was definitely needed. Lots of different people were helping out. Other churches in Springfield, Missouri, had also been taking in people who had no place to shelter for the night. How many would die on the streets without these volunteers and churches?

I caught some sleep on and off. Mainly, I stayed awake, as it’s required that one of the two shelter volunteers is awake all night. Ted was watching movies on his laptop. We had 17 men initially.

Left: Photo by Stuart Miles. Right: Photo by whatamiii.

A volunteer named Jorge served coffee and snacks for two hours as people settled in. He’s an engineer and will be driving to Texas County—the largest jurisdiction in Missouri but one of the least populated—to oversee the work in a factory that manufactures electric parts. It’s 90 miles each way, four days a week. Today, there are dangerous highways.

Near the basement door was a table with coffee, hot chocolate, and donated snacks. On the large plastic “sneeze protector” of plexiglass someone has taped a photocopied sign, which read “In case no one told you today: You are beautiful.”

You are loved.

Two guys across the room seem to be having trouble sleeping. Ted and I talk about all kinds of things and especially about Herman Melville because I’m auditing a class at Missouri State on early American literature. I’m reading Melville’s first book, Typee, about his jumping ship on a South Sea island, the hard life of sailors, and related adventures. Somehow escaping to a South Sea island, even one that possibly has cannibals, seems desirable this evening.

You are needed.

One of the old guys comes up to tell me that he’s ready to work but is having trouble getting his paperwork together: “They want proof of address for me to get food stamps, but I don’t have an address, and my birth certificate isn’t enough for them.”

You are alive for a reason.

Shortly after midnight, a guy comes into the shelter with all his stuff in three thin plastic shopping bags. “I just got off from working at Denny’s,” he explains.

You are stronger than you think.

Photo by Getty Images

At 2 a.m., I look up from the book I am reading. There is a woman rapping on the window by the door.

“Eden Village said I should come by here,” she explains. She’s wearing a blanket over her head and coat to keep out the cold. I show her to a cot.

You are going to get through this.

Another guy comes to the snack table in the middle of the night. His neighbor was hassling him. I go over and talk with the neighbor, who has lots of issues, a lot of anger. But he listens. He mainly needs some extra clothes that have been donated to the church for homeless people. I bring out different sweatshirts. Finally, he agrees one is right for him: nice and heavy with a cool logo.

I’m glad you are alive.

Lots of coughing echoes across the big basement room that is filled with sleep and occasional snoring. They put on their COVID-19 masks when they come out for snacks. Mainly they sleep, mostly still in their clothes and wrapped in blankets. Ted or I check the room each hour. No one wants to talk in the earliest, coldest time before dawn.

Don’t give up.

Photo by vita  

Ted turns on the lights at 6:30 a.m. Most everyone’s up. Some are going outside for a smoke. “It’s -12 degrees out there,” Ted says in amazement.

A big guy comes in, smiling, with only a few teeth. “I see you got those big, brown shoes in there. I think they might fit me.” They do; he’s happy and says, “Always good to have a little extra room for more socks in cold weather.”

A little after 7 a.m., the bus arrives. In less than ten minutes, everyone’s gone. Ted and I do the initial clean up, spraying a bleach mix on the cots and pillows. It’s all fixed for other volunteers to come in right on schedule to sweep and get everything ready for the next evening.

Yes, you are loved by a huge community.

The post The Coldest Night at the Overflow Shelter appeared first on Friends Journal.

A Small Meeting’s Experiment in Radical Welcoming

Having always been mission-focused Friends, we had been working for years at the list found in Matthew 25:35–36 (NIV):

For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in, I was naked and you clothed me, I was sick and you looked after me, I was in prison and you came to visit me.

Upon finding Friends a decade ago, a strong conviction struck us: a realization of the time we had invested during the prior decade to find that perfect doctrine. Year after year had been spent trying to figure out who “had it right.” We found Friends along this journey, and, after hearing the general understanding that no one has it exactly right and that’s okay, it all changed for us.

After having many conversations with a variety of Friends, we developed a practice in our meeting’s first year to not rack up more time on our own path than we spent helping others on theirs.

Not knowing where to start, we found the list in Matthew to be direct. This passage says our lives will be judged according to our actions: what we did or didn’t do for our fellow man. Following this list has led us on many great journeys over the last decade. From street outreach to jail ministry, we continued to mature spiritually, yet fears always held fast regarding one item.

For a few years, we had been thinking how we would ever act upon “I was a stranger and you let me in.” What does this mean? Did it mean inviting a stranger into our own home? This is the way we interpreted it. Many fears were raised, and these fears held us at bay for many years as we applied ourselves to other works.

As our meetings are outdoors, we always balance out our “path vs. mission” time over the months of the year, with March being the start of a new year. When fall 2023 came we calculated our mission hours due against our path’s time, to find we would need 13 eight-hour runs to be balanced by March! We got underway on how we could work out these hours, but it was going to have to be something big.

Interior of the Camper.The Camper

In early December, our meeting received a thousand dollar check to be done with as we wished. Having a camper hookup on our homestead, we decided to push past our fears of letting in the stranger. As winter was near, we quickly found a fixer-upper camper, and we agreed it would be close enough to “home” to count. We spent a few weeks of spare time getting it ready, and after the new year, it was ready for hosting.

We decided on a barter agreement, wherein a woman being hosted could assist the other women with duties around the multi-generation homestead. We figured the barter at $12 per hour, 15 hours a week. This would cover her expenses and give her an additional $60 per week. We offered an agreement that listed our expectations and general rules for living on our quiet hilltop.

Our true test of faith came in locating the right person. One wishes not to judge, but when you are fearful of “what could be,” it is paralyzing. We found ourselves looking to God in hope that the right person would be sent. Sadly, just about everyone in the online world thought this was a scam, and there was much blocking of posts and expressions of hate. Oddly enough, this prayer was answered on Craigslist, and in early January, we had finally crossed our greatest fear: moving in our first guest.

It was quite awkward for everyone the first few weeks. We just tried to be good hosts and let our guest settle in. Soon enough, everyday life seemed more everyday again. Months passed by, and one spring day, our guest was quite shocked to find the camper had masses of carpenter ants waking up from winter: thousands of them. We did what we could, but one by one different parts of this camper failed. This was right out of an old movie, a great tragedy.

What was once blissful had become a nightmare in a dozen ways. It was amazing to us that the seller knew of our plans for the camper yet never disclosed its true condition.

The OfficeThe Office

It was in May that we decided enough is enough with the camper; it had become a dangerous liability. We did not have the funds for another camper, especially in peak season. Yet the homestead assistant position was working out great for all. Her health had failed her drastically, and we couldn’t help but assume some responsibility due to the camper’s condition. She had become family and someone that we all truly cared for. Now being quite fearful of losing our guest and her having nowhere nor any means to go, we decided to look into a storage building conversion. Tiny homes may be nice to watch on YouTube videos, but in reality, they have as many issues as the camper and take a lot to make them legally suitable. Being a handy-enough family, we decided to take on a hefty project and build a micro-apartment into a pole barn. It is nothing fancy, just a 25- by 10-foot apartment with a bathroom. We added a small loft for her son’s visits. It is small but quaint, and it has everything one needs to live and find peace.

Almost immediately after moving our guest into the apartment and ridding ourselves of the camper, six months of chaos subsided, and life became calm once again.

The “Wambulance”The “Wambulance”

Late summer came, and seeing the impact of providing someone with housing and witnessing the joy that it brought to all involved, we decided there was enough time for another mission. Sadly we were lacking any funds after the failed camper and the micro-apartment build, which totalled fifteen thousand dollars. In meeting, it was decided that if we could source the funds, we would build out a van-life vehicle and gift it to a homeless woman.

We started a crowdsource campaign and quickly raised $2,700. We found a younger man with an old-but-running ambulance for sale, and he knocked the price down for the cause. Over six weeks and after receiving many, many favors, we managed to turn this old ambulance into a very functional camper van with solar and much more. Selection requirements for the recipient had been discussed during the build. The women took on the task of deciding who would receive the van, and God again brought us the exact right person for it.

There were fears that the van might be sold for drugs or other things, but the recipient was a perfect fit. To our surprise, she held a masters degree. Life had just continued to knock her down to the point of her living for months in a tent in the woods. She was dealing with illness, and the world had tossed her aside, much like our guest. It is saddening but life-changing for her to receive the ambulance.

New CamperThe “Sister Haus and the Tax Man”

For a long time, we have been fearing what will become of our homestead as the years pass. The West Coast tech giants are gobbling up our county, and the tax man is at the forefront. Our taxes for 2018 were $2,400; last year, they were $6,000. Two people smarter than us have stated that by the year 2028–2030, when these giants have settled in, we will be looking at around $16,000–$20,000 per year!

In 2023, we visited a Bruderhof community, and we studied remotely with them for a season. It was interesting that 25 percent of them were Friends, and we thought we might join them when the time comes. It would be sad, though, to leave this homestead that we’ve sweated so much for!

This year’s missions have changed that thought and removed the unnerving fear of not being able to afford our homestead. We now plan to slowly convert it over time to a Quaker sister boarding house where we will be able to offer small, reduced-rent rooms and to use the rent money to cover the dreaded tax. What larger blessing could God offer us than a workable plan to forever keep the homestead; to use it in His name; to help those tossed aside by the world; and, hopefully, to have this continue on long after we pass.

Looking back over the year, we hope our guest never leaves. It is odd to know that we will always be hosting someone in this apartment and that we now have a plan for the future. It is amazing how one’s spirit can change over just a few seasons.

This was intended to be a seasonal mission. Though it has certainly been life-changing for the guest in many ways, we all truly profit from this greatly. With our guest, we have help; we have fellowship; and we have another viewpoint in meetings. As a home for three families and as a fifth-generation homestead, it is great to share what the Lord has blessed us with.

This is not to say everyone should do this. Near Youngstown, Ohio, other “Prairie Quakers” (homesteading Friends who generally stay to themselves and practice plain living) were unknowingly doing the exact same mission. We connected remotely early on, and side by side, we went into our work. The mission ended early for that family, and to this day, we do not know the reason. There are many aspects such as liability, noise pollution, privacy, conflicting beliefs, conflicting lifestyles, and more to meditate on. We spent years with ideas for this mission running in the back of our minds, and we were also able to start in a very controlled fashion with many safeguards in place.

God also greatly blessed us with our guest, and like us, she is certainly a lost Friend, i.e., one of those who find Quakerism and then realize they were Quakers all along. Sadly, the mission that we undertook is not always possible; your home is your home. Follow the Spirit; follow your path, but always test the water before crossing the stream.

In 2025, we’ve been blessed in securing another van build, and it just rolled off the tow truck on March 16th. This is being scheduled for June completion. You can see how far we’ve come with this next home at our website.

The post I Was a Stranger and You Invited Me In appeared first on Friends Journal.

The San Francisco Quaker Meetinghouse sits at the crossroads of technology and outdated infrastructure, development and disinvestment, and abundance and famine. Our building is only one short block from the main thoroughfare of the city, Market Street, and in an area that triangulates with many of the survival resources needed by the poorest people in our community. 

Yet for the constant attention given to the issue of “homelessness,” the city’s methods of onboarding and outreach are remarkably outdated and lacking in cultural competency: the training manual for city-wide “standards of care” for all city-contracted shelters were last updated in 2004, over 20 years ago. These standards cover everything from training for staff to necessary materials and basic expectations of the agencies that provide direct services to the unhoused.

More than a decade ago, when I moved to San Francisco from Chicago, I lived at one of the largest shelters in the city. This first required spending many nights trying to sleep while sitting upright in a chair (not everyone in shelter necessarily receives a bed). Every day we had to queue in order to check in, praying that not too many people in front of us signed up for laundry services, since there were only so many total washes available per day. I keenly recall feeling exposed while in my bunk bed, sleeping next to people who were sometimes in the midst of mental episodes. Yet, for all the challenges, I recall some staff who were clearly gifted in managing conflict and creating rapport with shelter guests; their ability to exert influence and speak with the culture—not at the culture—was fascinating to me. I also recall the conversations with George, an elderly African American, with whom I’d often eat dinner at the common dining room. He is an ancestor, an angel whispering a Word for me to carry on in this sometimes spiritually perilous work.

I began sitting outside the San Francisco Meetinghouse—on Sundays during meeting for worship—to extend spiritual care in the form of laundry. Every other Sunday during worship, a table and chairs are set up near the meetinghouse with a sign reading “Holy Wtr We Wash Laundry.” 

For nearly two years (2022–2024), I was a live–work employee at a tiny-house shelter run by Youth Spirit Artworks (founded by a Quaker) in Oakland, California. I finished my last year of seminary at Earlham School of Religion while breathing this air. My tiny house lacked running water, private showers or bathrooms, and was only 60 square feet of living space. Contrary to most homeless shelters (which are congregate or bunk bed in style), each person occupies a tiny house with its own key. This design was in stark contrast to my earlier experience; what’s more, laundry could be washed any time that the community space was open. This experiment in simplicity significantly refined my expectations of housing. It turned out that I didn’t need many of the amenities that I might have assumed were a red line, an essential without which my world would collapse. Without realizing it, my concept of housing had been shaped by social forces. In many ways, homelessness is the concrete analogy to hell: a warning on this side of creation to adjust our internal world to fear the omnipresent punishment of “the Market” should we stop paying necessary oblation (vis-à-vis the accumulation of money) to the demigod of capitalism.

A sign for the ministry. 

Living in a tiny house was a unique, sunrise-to-sundown perspective of the massive scaffolding of programs, support systems, and staff resiliency required to obtain any hoped-for outcomes. Housing is not a magic wand and does not reverse the hypervigilance, dissolved social networks, or embodied pain carried in our unsheltered neighbors. Intense case management, clinical services, and therapeutic interventions (whether talk therapy, medication, or a psychiatric service animal) all cost money. City governments need more state and federal investment to accelerate access to all of the above. It may come as a surprise to learn that most of the unhoused are keenly aware that they haven’t been able to bathe and so therefore have a bit of an odor: the shirking away by other people, the getting up and moving to the other end of the bus or the city train that repeats itself on a loop is a fairly obvious form of public shaming. Sadly, the same is true on Sundays; most church services are middle-class affairs with little room for the unhoused. Among Baptists, Mennonites, Quakers, and Pentecostals, I’ve yet to enter a Sunday service and see a large number of the poor. Glide Memorial Church in the Tenderloin area of San Francisco is an exception; this was the first faith space where people who slept outside on the street the night before came to Bible study. It never dawned on me that the poor might be interested in—let alone attend—a Bible study.

The churning of the nuclear Light of God in my soul challenged my self-righteous attitude about having found an outward form I enjoyed. On Sundays when I would attend Quaker worship, my conscience would be greatly disturbed at the people taking shelter in front of the meetinghouse. As is generally the case, these folks were overwhelmingly African American/Colored persons; getting to meeting for worship literally required passing them by, much as people did the Good Samaritan in Luke 10:25–37). When I would sit down in worship, my spirit would try to settle, but time and time again, Spirit spoke the same message, “The Light is needed there.” Sitting inside and waiting for a reversal of this message was first an act of folly—then of disobedience.

The laundry ministry table outside of San Francisco (Calif.) Meetinghouse.

Faith and Practice of Pacific Yearly Meeting describes meeting for worship as follows:

Thus conducting worship under the leading of Divine Will, Friends assemble in the silence without prearranged program. Each tries to still the inward clamor of personal anxieties and ambitions, listening for the voice of the Inner Guide, endeavoring to be faithful to its instruction. Such faithfulness may require an outward silence. It may require one to rise and speak words that do not come easily, which may not be fully understood, or which may be uncomfortable. It may require action, or restraint of action, by some individual or the whole Meeting, outside the Meeting for Worship [emphasis added].

During my time at seminary, I’d discerned a “social laundromat”’ministry as my focal project; the seed remained planted and ripening for some time. On January 28, 2024, I began sitting outside the San Francisco Meetinghouse—on Sundays during meeting for worship—to extend spiritual care in the form of laundry. Every other Sunday during worship, a table and chairs are set up near the meetinghouse with a sign reading “Holy Wtr We Wash Laundry.” Our neighbors can rest, talk, or wash laundry. For laundry, we walk to a nearby laundromat, provide detergent and pay for both wash and dry cycles. Laundry is the practical incentive while listening is the deeper chaplaincy work.  I am not always alone, as volunteers have been joining the ministry.  

Still, we are reminded that neither understanding nor being comfortable are baselines for good order: the central question is whether we are being faithful.

The laundry is just the outer shell, the spiritual tortilla as it were, that hides what’s really the center of the experience: active listening and spiritual care to persons usually excluded (absent) from worship. It was critical to heed Spirit: this was not to be held under the care of any committee because it would be too controversial. Sometimes, the defense of the dominant monthly meeting culture (White and middle class) takes precedence over discernment. At first, this was an odd stop because I imagined the concern should be held under the Ministry and Care Committee, but with the passage of time, it has become painfully clear why Spirit led me in this puzzling direction.

During the course of my more than ten years as a member, San Francisco Friends have also grappled with the (disturbing) fire of what the peace testimony means in an urban context: not discussion groups but active praxis. Liberation theology is, after all, about putting practice before theory: acting in the world before musing. Over the years, we have been made uncomfortable because an unhoused person was falling asleep in their plate of food; made anxious about whether a bottle of liquor can be stored in a hallway closet so someone can come inside (e.g., spiritual harm reduction); and torn in conscience by the sight of a tent erected right under the Black Lives Matter banner painted across the front face of our meetinghouse.

Still, we are reminded that neither understanding nor being comfortable are baselines for good order: the central question is whether we are being faithful.

From March 3 through March 30, 2025, the San Francisco Meetinghouse served as the interfaith winter shelter location for the city and county of San Francisco. It was run by Episcopal Community Services, but the discernment about this form of spiritual care (and civic responsibility) took many years to unfold. There have been many discussions over the years about discomfort about “those people” inside the building (yes, that’s a direct quote and one that’s often heard).

Taking the clothes to a nearby laundromat.

My work with Youth Spirit Artworks and Glide Memorial Church has been apocalyptic: work that through the unhoused has boldly unveiled something new about God. The soul care of the unhoused often leaves me heavy in heart, burdened with worry, and filled with doubt. Clearness can sometimes intensify rather than erase contradictions. Even now, I grapple with the line between the sacred and profane. It is not the building, after all, but the people that are the church. The work is not without conflict; the laundry ministry heckles some in the meeting and exposes deeply ingrained class- and race-based bias among Friends. Yet, the still, small voice of the ancestors whisper: “Hold on, hold on! Keep your hand on the plow; hold on!”

The post Laundry Chaplaincy for Unsheltered Souls appeared first on Friends Journal.

Reflections on Housing Justice

The housing system in America is broken. Over 770,000 people in the United States are currently unhoused, 18 percent more than in 2023. In 2022, over half of all renters spent a third or more of their income on rent and utilities. Eviction rates continue to climb (over 10 percent from 2022 to 2023 alone), disproportionately affecting low-income renters, People of Color, single mothers and families with children, and other vulnerable people. Where the cost of housing has increased faster than incomes or the availability of affordable housing for lower income ranges has diminished, homelessness has increased.

Those are some of the numbers. What our caches of data, think-tank position papers, and government studies and reports don’t convey is the massive human toll that roils behind the numbers. Many unhoused persons are dehumanized by desperate living conditions and constant encampment sweeps. Personal accounts by unhoused persons and service providers alike are searing in their expressions of despair and futility as more and more resources are drawn to the crisis with less and less apparent effectiveness. In some regions, as one service provider laments, a “homeless industrial complex” has arisen to add intractable service delivery structures to the challenge. Quaker moral compasses should be spinning.

These conditions are not simply a post-pandemic hangover that will soon go away. They have been developing in earnest since the 2008 financial meltdown that affected millions of homeowners, especially in the lower income ranges. And they are here to stay until we take sufficient action as individuals, as meetings, and as a nation. As people of faith sharing deep concern for those who suffer injustice—in this case, housing injustice—Quakers are called to discern both our individual and corporate responses to homelessness, unaffordability of housing for large swaths of the population, and racial injustice in the housing system. We are called to bring housing justice where housing injustice prevails in our communities.

Our first step in doing so should be to understand the nature and some of the dynamics of the housing crisis to discern more clearly our leadings in response to them. Then we should seek moral and spiritual perspectives on the issues to equip ourselves for sustained focus on the areas of concern that arise. Let us begin with a deeper understanding of the problems we seek to address.

Our first step in doing so should be to understand the nature and some of the dynamics of the housing crisis to discern more clearly our leadings in response to them. Then we should seek moral and spiritual perspectives on the issues to equip ourselves for sustained focus on the areas of concern that arise. 

When we encounter unhoused persons, individually on the street or in camps, many of us are inclined to wonder what situations, behavioral health issues, addictions, traumas, or failure to keep a job or pay the rent led to this condition. As a nation, we tend to blame the unhoused for their condition, though the primary cause of homelessness is a lack of adequate and affordable housing, a simple truth made starkly evident by Gregg Colburn in Homelessness is a Housing Problem: How Structural Factors Explain U.S. Patterns (2022). The United States simply does not have enough housing for middle and lower incomes—so-called working-class housing—to sustain rents at affordable rates; to house those struggling with behavioral or addiction issues while they are addressing such challenges; or to provide safe landings for those whose precarious financial situation is decimated by the loss of a job or transportation, a serious injury, or an expensive medical diagnosis.

Housing that is affordable to own or to rent is essential for stable households, vibrant neighborhoods, and flourishing communities. Affordable housing at all income levels is a social good on par with education, water, electricity, and healthcare. Indeed, a resilient and broadly accessible housing system is essential for realizing such other social goods as education and healthcare. The current systemic shortage of affordable housing in the United States, accompanied by alarming rates of eviction and numbers of unhoused persons, is indicative of an unjust scarcity of a vital social good: adequate and affordable housing. 

When coming to understand housing as a social good, we must recognize that affordable housing historically has also been distributed unevenly across races in America. Home ownership since World War II has been the leading factor in the determination of household wealth. The current racial disparity in household wealth is ten-to-one, White to Black (U.S. Census Bureau, 2021), so it should be no surprise that the homeownership rate is much higher for White households than for Black households, a greater disparity even than prior to the fair-housing legislation of the early 1970s. With the replication of these disparities in home ownership and household wealth in other communities of Color, it should be equally unsurprising that those who rent, those who are evicted from rentals, and those who are unhoused are disproportionately People of Color. 

These disparities in housing and household wealth, moreover, were created quite intentionally through government policies at all levels, including residential zoning codes to preclude home ownership by People of Color in affluent White neighborhoods beginning in the 1920s, redlining to undermine Black home ownership by limiting access to home loans beginning in the 1930s, exclusion of over a million Black veterans from participation in the G.I. Bill’s home loan guarantee programs in the 1950s and 1960s, and literally hundreds of thousands of racial covenants across the country that prohibited Black and other People of Color from living in select White neighborhoods and accruing property value equity since the concept of neighborhood began. As we ponder and respond to injustices in our housing policies, practices, and systems, we must also be keenly aware that race and racial injustice are tightly bound up in the U.S. housing system.

Justice is vitally important to Quakers. We want all to have housing they can comfortably afford, housing that enables stable households, healthy neighborhoods, and vibrant communities. Even as we prop up major portions of our housing system with inadequate and underfunded programs and services, we ask why there must always be a shortage of affordable homes. Why, too, must we accept an economy that seemingly requires an underclass of poverty, generates large profits from competition for an insufficient supply of housing, and commodifies essential social goods like housing for the financial gain of a few at great cost to a very large share of those who are most in need?

Looking at the U.S. housing crisis with eyes wide open is one thing. Making meaning of what one sees and discerning how to respond, first spiritually and then through action, is quite another. When we look unflinchingly within ourselves and our communities of faith to understand better the pathways by which we approach housing justice, it becomes apparent that there are some underlying spiritual values that take us deep into our moral perspectives on housing justice.

Photo by JHVEPhoto 

A good place to begin exploring the moral dimensions of housing justice is to consider affordable housing as a human right. From antiquity to the present, moral philosophers have sought to ascertain the fundamental rights that humans derive from the nature of their existence within society, quite apart from rights granted by civil society. A major turn in this centuries-long dialogue occurred immediately after World War II when, in direct response to the horrors of that worldwide experience, the United Nations (UN) forged the Universal Declaration of Human Rights (UDHR). Adopted by the UN in 1948, the UDHR has since served as a frequent and invaluable moral measure for the status of human rights (perhaps also understood as applied social justice) in various ways at various times. 

Adequate housing is specifically identified in UDHR Article 25 as a basic human right in association with several other material needs that directly affect the quality of human life: “Everyone has the right to a standard of living adequate for the health and well-being of himself and of his family, including food, clothing, housing and medical care…” The UN Committee on Economic, Social and Cultural Rights (UNCESCR), in its Covenant on Economic, Social and Cultural Rights (1998), later defines adequate housing as having legal security of tenure, availability of services (including materials, facilities, and infrastructure), affordability, habitability, accessibility, location, and cultural adequacy. 

From a secular foundation of universal human rights, we then rise to understand housing justice through our distinctive Quaker lens. For this we go beneath conventional Quaker testimonies to excavate the spirituality from which they arise even as we go behind “that of God in every one” by checking still deeper values. Paula Palmer, for example, notes in her 2023 QuakerSpeak.com video, “The Lasting Trauma of Quaker Indigenous Boarding Schools,” that, yes, Quakers who ran Indian boarding schools in the nineteenth and early-twentieth centuries likely did see that of God in Native children, but White supremacy blinded them from also seeing the value of Native culture and way of life. Likewise, seeing that of God in an unhoused person, and then ministering to that person with the expectation of their becoming like those who are ministering, can lead to outcomes that present lasting benefit for neither the server nor the served.

Justice in the Western Judeo-Christian tradition, the faith tradition most broadly understood and experienced by Quakers, is most richly expressed as shalom in the fullest biblical sense of the ancient Hebrew concept. (Consider, too, the Islamic equivalent salaam.) Walter Brueggemann speaks to our concern in Living Toward a Vision: Biblical Reflections on Shalom (1976) when he traces the enduring theme of shalom throughout the Hebrew and Christian Bibles, stressing the consistent representation of justice as equality, wholeness, and reconciliation of rich and poor within a covenant of shalom. Far more than its conventional translation into English as “peace,” shalom represents alignment of human and divine interests within the harmonious household, community, and nation. Shalom thus deepens and expands our notion of justice as fairness and equality. The “haves” within the biblical concept of shalom, for instance, hold special responsibility to the “have-nots.” In contemporary context, the justice values of fairness and equality can perhaps best be understood as wholeness, inclusion, and right relationship among individuals and communities within housing, healthcare, and other social systems. 

The concept of right relationship is a corresponding moral imperative for Quakers that deepens and enriches our understanding of shalom. Found in multiple ethical and moral systems from Indigenous cultures to such major faith traditions as Buddhism and Christianity, the natural state of cooperation, respect, and mutual benefit is a powerful impetus for understanding right relationship in great measure as loving one’s neighbor, serving the best interests of the community, and spiritually aligning one’s behavior and beliefs with the Divine. These sensibilities are manifest in Quaker morality, derived appreciably from Christian values and ethics, in ways that enable us to readily respond to contemporary moral challenges.

Shalom, a desire for wholeness and inclusion of all in community, is the spiritual essence of a Quaker understanding of justice, social justice, and by extension housing justice. 

Two contemporary uses of the concept of right relationship by Quakers reinforce both this meaning of right relationship and its importance for Quaker moral understanding of social justice:

Deep engagement with Indigenous history and justice issues by Paula Palmer and Jerilyn DeCoteau explores what right relationship among Native and non-Native peoples of North America entails. As one of several Friends Peace Teams, their “Toward Right Relationship with Native Peoples” program has developed a range of publications, workshops, and other learning opportunities in their quest for understanding, reconciliation, and realization of right relationship among Indigenous peoples and descendants of European colonizers. 

In 2003, the Quaker Institute for the Future launched its Moral Economy Initiative, an undertaking to explore possibilities for a more human-centered alternative to our current profit-centered economic system. An early product of the initiative was Peter G. Brown and Geoffrey Garver’s Right Relationship: Building a Whole Earth Economy (2009), which seeks “an ethical guidance system based on ‘right relationship’” that can lead the gradual transformation of our profit-oriented economic system to a more human-centered one. 

While these expressions of right relationship are not articulated as social justice per se, they do indicate how right relationship informs the inclusionary quest for wholeness of individual and community that rests at the core of Quaker morality and sense of justice.

Shalom and right relationship thus unite in the clarion call of social justice that echoes throughout both the Hebrew and Christian Bibles and takes residence in our Quaker heritage. Shalom, a desire for wholeness and inclusion of all in community, is the spiritual essence of a Quaker understanding of justice, social justice, and by extension housing justice. Right relationship imbues communities; systems; and, indeed, all of creation with harmony, integrity, and mutual benefit: a moral perspective that fuels much of Quaker activism in the world today. Combined with our understanding of a basic human right to adequate and affordable housing, we are inspired to engage our concern for adequate and affordable housing as a social good that speaks to the inherent dignity and worth of every person, to make individuals and communities whole, and to enable additional social goods like education and healthcare for households, neighborhoods, and communities alike to prosper.

Photo by jdoms 

Invested with this vision of wholeness and inclusion rooted in a Quaker yearning for justice, we pursue housing justice on many fronts: housing that is adequate and affordable, rental rate fairness, direct service to and in support of the unhoused, equitable balance in the tenant-landlord relationship, fair housing laws, and more. Individual Quakers and Quaker meetings have long been involved in service to the unhoused, working against the racism we see deeply embedded in our housing system and in the operation of food kitchens, street ministries, and shelters. Yet our moral foundation of human rights, shalom, and right relationship call us to do more. 

We recognize there is no magic elixir to cure this disease of housing injustice, and there will be no sudden turnabout in a predatory economy that seemingly must always exploit an impoverished underclass. We must now do more of what our conscience and our faith call us to do: what our means, our opportunities, and our discernment allow us to do. Perhaps we are called to contribute time and skills for standing up a service program when previously we simply gave money to the parent organization. Perhaps our meetinghouse is near an encampment or can serve as an emergency shelter overflow for a larger facility. As we await the large-scale social and economic changes that will remedy the ills we see, we seek to be of greater service still. 

As has famously been attributed to the prophet Micah, we seek “to act justly and to love mercy and to walk humbly with [y]our God” (Mic. 6:8).

Resources on Housing Justice

Data on affordable housing and homelessness is plentiful yet frequently difficult to isolate for particular needs. For national data that can also be narrowed to regional and local views, begin with the U.S. Department of Housing and Urban Development’s “Annual Homeless Assessment Report” and the U.S. Census Bureau’s “American Housing Survey.” Also consider Harvard’s Joint Center for Housing Studies (JCHS) and the National Low Income Housing Coalition. 

Secondary sources that informed parts of this essay, and which point to additional interpretations and information sources, include:

• Walter Brueggemann’s The Prophetic Imagination (Fortress Press, 1978) and Living Toward a Vision: Biblical Reflections on Shalom (United Church Press, 1976);
• Gianpaolo Baiocchi & H. Jacob Carlson’s “Housing is a Social Good,” Boston Review (June 2, 2021);
• Richard Rothstein’s The Color of Law: A Forgotten History of How Our Government Segregated America (Liveright Publishing, 2017); and 
• Matthew Desmond’s Evicted: Poverty and Profit in the American City (Broadway Books, 2017). 

An excellent national nonprofit for both conceptual and data-driven approaches to housing issues is Alliance for Housing Justice (allianceforhousingjustice.org). And for those who care to work with other Quakers on a national approach to housing and homelessness issues, consider Quaker Institute for the Future’s Circle of Discernment on Unhoused Persons and Housing Justice (quakerinstitute.org/cod-on-homeless-people-and-housing-justice).

The post Shalom and Right Relationship appeared first on Friends Journal.

Quaker Ministries for the Homeless

Friends from a range of theological perspectives have a common interest in assisting people facing homelessness in the United States. Quakers involved in service, solidarity, and advocacy cite various sources of their motivation, such as New Testament teachings, Quaker testimonies of community and equality, or agnostic commitments to care for other people.

The federal Department of Housing and Urban Development (HUD) estimates that 770,000 people in the United States experienced homelessness on at least one night in January 2024. Those who were counted included people staying in shelters, those occupying temporary housing, and people sleeping outdoors. The point-in-time count represented an 18 percent increase over the estimate of people lacking housing on a single night in January 2023. Some advocates say the estimate doesn’t take into account all those who are facing homelessness.

The impact of state and local laws that ban public camping has varied for those facing homelessness in the United States. Friends who advocate for and assist unhoused people report that in some cases, officials have not aggressively enforced the anti-camping ordinances. In other instances, authorities have caused significant disruption to the lives of unhoused people camping in public places. Friends who assist people facing homelessness discussed how camping bans affect those they serve, as well as the Quaker values that motivate them and the spiritual practices that sustain their work.

In June 2024, the U.S. Supreme Court ruled that municipalities can criminalize camping in public places. The ruling immediately applied to cities in Alaska, Arizona, California, Guam, Hawaii, Idaho, Montana, Nevada, Northern Mariana Islands, Oregon, and the state of Washington. The states and territories the ruling covers are part of the Ninth Circuit. Ninth Circuit judges had determined in 2018 that punishing people without access to shelter for sleeping outdoors violated the Eighth Amendment because it was cruel and unusual punishment. The ruling excluded those who had money for shelter or access to free housing but chose not to use those options. It also allowed municipalities to criminalize sleeping outdoors at particular times and in specific places.

California’s ban on public camping promotes hiding and isolation, explained Ludmilla Bade, an attender at Redwood Forest Meeting in Santa Rosa, California, and the meeting’s American Friends Service Committee liaison. Bade is on the Lived Experience Advisory Board of the University of California San Francisco Benioff Study of Homelessness in California. She experienced homelessness for about three years because she could not find affordable housing: she lived in a tiny trailer and parked on streets and country roads. For nearly six months, she parked in a trailer community called “Little Town Monte Rio,” which was dispersed by local code enforcement authorities after neighbors organized opposition on Nextdoor, a hyperlocal social networking site.

Asked to respond to the argument that camping bans increase the likelihood of unhoused people entering shelters, Bade said, “Being separated from one’s possessions, one’s companions, one’s vehicle, [and] one’s pet is not the same as finding a home.”

Enforcement officials usually target groups of five or more campers, according to Bade. She noted that when authorities disperse camps, unhoused people lose community and opportunities for collective self-advocacy. For example, Bade and her unhoused friend were advocating for the needs of an organized camp of more than 60 people and had contacted charities about providing portable toilets for the community. Bade had begun to help campers enroll in adult education programs offered by nearby Santa Rosa Junior College. Police “swept” the camp, scattering the residents. Officers swept residents from separate camp sites more than 20 times. Bade’s friend tried to enroll in classes at Santa Rosa Junior College but found the sweeps too traumatizing and disruptive to continue her education.

Carmen Lopez, volunteer at the shelter in the school gym. Photo by Gail Cornwall-Feeley.

In 1997, Tempe, Arizona, passed an urban camping ban, noted Dave Wells. Wells is a member of Tempe Meeting. He hosts a weekly private food-sharing event in a city park that assists people who face homelessness. According to Wells, Proposition 312 is a statewide provision that states if private property owners have to remediate such things as litter or urination on their properties, due to lack of camping ban enforcement, they can deduct the cost of doing so from their property taxes. Proposition 312 went into effect in January 2025.

Most unhoused people in Tempe are not arrested for urban camping, Wells explained. The first time police officers contact people camping in the city, they are given an official warning. A couple of people have been charged with violating the ban on urban camping, but in one case, the charges were dropped.

Officers in San Francisco also do not aggressively enforce public camping bans at all times, according to Bruce Folsom. Folsom is a member of San Francisco Meeting who stands outside the meetinghouse twice a week to converse with unhoused people and offer them clothing and first-aid supplies. In one instance, the police cleared an encampment because it was part of the scene of a crime that was unrelated to the people camping there, Folsom explained. After they investigated the crime scene, officers escorted the unhoused people back to the encampment, according to Folsom.

Sometimes San Francisco does neighborhood sweeps in which they remove unhoused people from particular areas, Folsom explained. Sweeps occur when the mayor wants to address the concerns of merchants who do not want unhoused people outside their businesses or to respond to drug sales. Sweeps can lead to some people entering shelters, but many simply move to a different area if their campsites are dismantled. More people come to the meetinghouse after sweeps.

One business near the San Francisco Meetinghouse asked homeless people not to camp in front of their building, and cacti were planted in front of the business. As a result of the request not to camp in front of the business, the unhoused campers moved a couple of doors down, according to Folsom. Having unhoused people move from one place to another does not solve the problem of people lacking shelter, Folsom observed.

Quakers have always been on the margins of what is socially acceptable and have answered a higher call to meet human needs.

Redwood Forest Meeting in Santa Rosa previously hosted a safe parking area for unhoused people who sleep in their cars. From 2020 to 2024, up to a dozen people facing homelessness parked in the meetinghouse parking lot overnight, according to Gary Melrose, an attender at Redwood Forest Meeting and member of its Property Committee. The parking lot is on private property, so it was not impacted by Santa Rosa’s camping ban, noted the meeting’s resident Friend Melanie Cantu.

Melrose has been involved in helping unsheltered people for many years, and he was the one to suggest the idea that the meeting offer a safe parking lot for those facing homelessness. It took eight or nine months for meeting members and attenders to agree to a minute supporting the project. The meeting’s insurance company said they would discontinue coverage if the meeting continued to allow unhoused people to park overnight in the parking lot. A dozen other insurance agencies denied requests for coverage without offering a rationale, according to Melrose. The insurance company’s refusal to cover the parking lot led to the project ending in 2024.

A few members and attenders at Redwood Forest Meeting thought of the people who parked in the lot as members of the community, according to Cantu. Friends acting on the equality testimony sought to offer solidarity rather than charity, Cantu explained. They wanted to avoid “othering” the people facing homelessness.

“The value of the community was the most important to us,” Cantu said.

Gail Cornwall-Feeley’s daughter Vivienne, volunteering with children at the stay-over program in the school gym. Photo by Gail Cornwall-Feeley.

Quakers have always been on the margins of what is socially acceptable and have answered a higher call to meet human needs, according to Tempe Meeting member Wells. Quakers visibly involving themselves in social justice struggles can attract people wishing to oppose injustice and inequality, according to Ruth Kearns, a member of Tempe Meeting who got arrested for opposing the Iraq War. Kearns organizes the meeting’s monthly dinner that serves unhoused people. The meeting also works at a local church, in partnership with the Interfaith Homeless Emergency Lodging Program (I-HELP), to host overnight guests who are homeless.

San Francisco Meeting member Folsom’s motive for assisting homeless people is the New Testament passage Matthew 25:35–36, in which Jesus said that followers are feeding him when they feed hungry people, quenching his thirst when they give thirsty people water, and clothing him when they provide clothes to those who need something to wear.

Zae Illo, another member of the meeting, encouraged members and attenders of San Francisco Meeting to pay attention to people enduring injustice and to act in solidarity with them. Folsom found Illo’s words inspiring and realized that he had long been missing opportunities to connect with people facing homelessness.

“For 25 years, I’ve been walking to the meetinghouse; I had been walking to the meetinghouse without noticing the people on the street,” Folsom said.

For the first time in March, San Francisco Meeting participated in an interfaith shelter program in which faith communities host unhoused people overnight in their houses of worship.

Folsom is a retired social worker who previously worked in a mental health clinic. As a social worker, he was ethically and legally prohibited from touching clients. As an informal assistant to people facing homelessness, he appreciates the opportunity to provide that kind of supportive touch if a person requests it. Folsom drew on first-aid training that he had acquired as a Boy Scout. One time a man who was homeless scraped his knuckles, and Folsom took the man’s hands in both of his own hands and offered first aid.

“It was moving for us both,” Folsom said of the gesture. The gesture of holding the man’s scraped hands deepened their relationship.

When he started the project, he had no supplies or resources and had to scramble for items every time an unhoused person asked for help with practical needs. Now he stores first-aid supplies and clothing in the meetinghouse basement and distributes the items when unhoused people request them.

Yolanda, an unhoused woman, was the first person facing homelessness to speak in a conversational manner with Folsom. Yolanda introduced Folsom to other people who lived on the street, and that enabled them to trust him. Yolanda and her partner lived in a tent on the street. They both died of a fentanyl overdose on December 27, 2023.

“Yolanda was very important to me. I learned lots of things from her,” Folsom said.

The meeting had a memorial meeting for Yolanda. The memorial gathering was the first one the meeting had held for someone who was not a member or an attender. Yolanda’s mother and sister came to the memorial meeting.

“To do this work, you have to let your heart be broken over and over again,” said Folsom, who relies on deep prayer and daily plainchant to sustain his efforts.

Yolanda. Published with permission from Yolanda’s mother after Yolanda passed away. Photo courtesy of Bruce Folsom.

San Francisco Meeting member Gail Cornwall-Feeley volunteers with her children and other Friends at an overnight shelter in the gym of Buena Vista Horace Mann K–8 Community School in the city. Friends helped the shelter operators extend the hours of the program to welcome guests during the day on Saturdays during the school year. The volunteers approach shelter guests with curiosity and seek to learn from them. Volunteers engage with the children using crafts, games, Legos, clay, and more. The activities offer parents sleeping at the shelter time to relax and converse with other adults. Some shelter guests use the time to practice English.

Cornwall-Feeley also occasionally volunteers at a food sharing event on Fridays in which participants make sandwiches and then distribute them, along with whatever else the team has on hand, such as bottles of water, socks, hand sanitizer, and masks.

Spiritual practices that sustain Cornwall-Feeley’s work with unhoused people include attending meeting for worship and fostering relationships with Quaker elders. Retired people can help prevent burnout in younger Friends. Many people of her generation have gotten caught up in productivity culture and the demands of raising young children, so it can be challenging for them to breathe and reflect often enough, Cornwall-Feeley noted. Cornwall-Feeley’s children, who now range in age from 10 to 21, also take part in the food share.

When she was asked what motivates her to participate, Cornwall-Feeley said, “Inculcating Quaker values and living them and letting my life speak and encouraging my children to let their lives speak.”

Correction: The extension of the shelter program hours in San Francisco has been clarified.

The post Solidarity with Our Unhoused Neighbors appeared first on Friends Journal.

frayed edges
of your bulging backpack
remind me that the perimeter
of my world is larger than yours
on the street

we sit together
share a meal
a roof above

tell me the story
of your dead daughter
absent sons and eviction

read me your memoir
of life without work
or shelter, or meds

smudge the pencil-mark borders
erase the margins of difference
excise the space between us:
light-years of travel from
your birth home to mine

white-out my privilege
erase my margins of indifference.

The post Monday Night in the Church Basement appeared first on Friends Journal.

I hear my husband singing “Dogs on the Run,”
to the tune of “Band on the Run,” out in the kitchen
where he’s chopping up the worst godawful hotdogs
for a kettle of baked beans to take to the skate park
for street people. I know those hotdogs, because
I bought them, 40 to a pack, dyed blood red,
entrails and toe nails, of chicken, beef, and
pork. Though he scolded me to spend for the better
kind. They deserve the best we can, he said.

About how it’s going for us, I specialize in hoarding
resentments and regrets, to bring out for dramatic effects.
But how can I not forgive him everything, at least
for a day or two, when he sings “Dogs on the Run”
before breakfast while the beans bubble?

The post Dogs on the Run appeared first on Friends Journal.

I’m like Billy Joel,
playing nostalgic songs
that everyone knows—
I’m in a wheelchair
at a community piano.

I play for the tips
as the crowd shuffles by,
tapping the white and black keys
for everyone but me,
blocking out the things
that have gone wrong,
the voices in my head,
the accusing whispers.

I keep playing until it gets dark,
until the black crows
stop cawing
and scatter from the branches,
until the lights go out
and the streets are barren.

When my concert is over,
I flex my cramped fingers,
pull the fallboard over the keys,
count the dollars and loose change
and roll down the street
to my makeshift abode.

The post I Play Nostalgic Songs appeared first on Friends Journal.

The everlasting gospel

This is one of the best articles I’ve read in Friends Journal in 40 years (“In the Deeps and in Weakness” by Matt Rosen, FJ Apr.). It captures the spirit and substance of early Quakerism in modern and accessible terms. Keep following the leading to speak this Everlasting Gospel among Friends.

Having lived for years among Friends in Kenya, I can attest to both the excitement and the dangers of charismatic Christianity. I appreciate that exposure, and I loved being able to be free and open with my Christian faith, in stark contrast to many unprogrammed Friends meetings. But the dangers are enormous, and I find the actual friendship of Christ much more accessible and transforming in the silence of waiting on the Lord in traditional Quaker worship. If only more Friends understood that worship as Rosen does.

Patrick Nugent
Kettering, Ohio

Looking forward to the next of the 12 steps

Thank you very much for Christoper E. Stern’s honest, open, and inspiring article (“Three Steps Forward,” FJ Apr.). It speaks to my condition. I have the feeling that we need more of this.

Petra Schipper
Antwerp, Belgium

I look forward to the author’s account of his fourth step in the 12-step process (making a searching spiritual inventory) and fifth (fully acknowledging the heart of said inventory to another person and to our higher power). For many, their spiritual journey begins, unexpectedly, after the fifth step.

Hank Fay
Berea, Ky.

The mental band width of clothing

Amy Andreassen’s “Divine Dress Code” (FJ Apr.) is a beautifully written explanation of the immense value of simplicity—and how it can impact so many aspects of our lives.

I started on that path a few years ago. I still have a long way to go, but I see many of the same benefits as Andreassen.

Glenn
Atlanta, Ga.

When I was overwhelmed by multigenerational caregiving and fulltime work, I bought eight work shirts, eight identical pairs of black slacks, and ten pairs of black socks and stopped thinking about clothing. Sometimes clothing does not deserve our mental band width. Now that I am retired and less burdened, I am loving the self expression clothing offers.

Linda Gillingham Sciaroni
Long Beach, Calif.

Fear-mongering

Jesus tolerated his apostles carrying cutting-edge weaponry, but not using it to harm others (“A Quaker Attends a Gun Show” by Robert Fonow, FJ Apr.). Fear is a powerful motivator, and our media is filled with fear-mongering, but turning off that noise restores calm for most people.

George Gore
Chicago area, Ill.

I appreciate the comment about rightwing/autocratic governments and gun control. We should all remember that, however weak they are, the few gun control laws we have in the United States mostly originated in the era of the Black Panthers when those with power were afraid of too many guns in the hands of the oppressed. Very few have been enacted by or through the efforts of peace-loving Quakers and others of our ilk.

Joseph H Snyder
Portland, Ore.

Finding a nonviolent resolution to the longstanding conflict in Israel and Palestine

The video “What Does Just Peace in Palestine and Israel Look Like?” is a heartfelt commentary from someone who works to make the world a better and more peaceful place (QuakerSpeak.com interview with Joyce Ajlouny, Mar.). It is a shame that our leaders are so lacking in even the most basic of spiritual values. They should be listening to Ajlouny and others like her. Then, maybe instead of thinking that killing people is the path to peace, they will wake up to reality and get in touch with their humanity.

Richard Forer
Lafayette, Colo.

I don’t know how anyone maintains hope, given the inhumanity being practiced and the impunity of people who don’t seem to care what they are doing to other human beings. I’m grateful to Ajlouny for speaking of her hope.

Margaret Katranides
St. Louis, Mo.

This is not an either/or issue. There is no contradiction or disconnect between the political and the Quaker or spiritual issue. Jesus was political (his upturning of the tables or criticism of the hypocrisy of the establishment). If we follow the light and are guided by it, we will be led to question injustice wherever it occurs and to do all we can to end the situation.

Vivienne
Australia

Yes. What we need to hear, keep in front of us, and act on every day in every way we can.

Deborah Fink
Ames, Iowa

What about the rest of Creation?

After reading Stephen Loughin’s essay, “Addressing the Long Emergency” (FJ Apr.), I was disappointed and concerned that there was no discussion concerning the protection of wildlands, wetlands, watersheds, or defending the rights of all non-human species.

In our rush to find sustainable alternatives to fossil fuels, have we considered the environmental impact the extraction of the materials necessary for the manufacturing of the alternative sources has on habitat and the surrounding communities, along with the impact of local habitat when placing these alternative technologies? Our focus must go beyond just human needs to add the needs and rights of all of Creation. It’s taken 150-plus years to get where we are, and it will perhaps take an equal amount of time to get out of our present dilemma. Along with reconsidering technology we should be looking at economic, lifestyle, and cultural changes! Long live Creation!

Derek Polzer
Berkeley Heights, N.J.

Heartfelt thanks to supportive Friends

The fires that ravaged Los Angeles county in January were devastating (News story, FJ Mar. print, Feb. online). We at Orange Grove Meeting in Pasadena are thankful that no lives were lost among our worshipers. We mourn the loss of others. We are thankful that our meetinghouse campus was spared. We mourn the loss of members’ and attenders’ homes, and those of tens of thousands of others.

We are thankful that among the chaos, confusion, and communication outages that we were eventually able to find all our evacuated people wherever they had found sanctuary and ascertain their conditions and needs. We are thankful that Friends have reached out in generous support of our efforts to ameliorate some of our financial loss. Other losses can never be remedied—scenes of family memories forever erased, along with documents, photographs, and heirlooms destroyed.

Fire, as well as rain, falls upon the just and the unjust alike, and we let love rather than circumstantial judgement of any kind be our guide toward disbursement of Friends’ generous donations. The concerns of distant Friends that their succor not simply be passed through us on to impersonal organizations of relief kept us mindful that our responsibilities lay closest to home. Through deep and thoughtful discernment we sorted our options, discarding airy notions of being able to accomplish more on a wider scale than our time and talents allowed. We focused on immediate relief to those most severely affected among our community whether member, attender, or employee.

The usual work of our meeting continued through this period; at times we were too overwhelmed to respond to questions. We apologize for our belated expression of gratitude, but please know that it is heartfelt and that your love, light, and largesse were cherished and continue to help through this time of unexpected change.

Jane Krause for Orange Grove Meeting
Pasadena, Calif.

Correction

The article “Emblems of Change” (by Sharlee DiMenichi, FJ Feb.) originally reported that 140 million people had been displaced in Bangladesh; that is actually the estimate of how many will be displaced. Evan Welkin’s farm was destroyed in 2023, not 2024 as originally reported (Welkin moved to the United States in 2024). Quakers distributed about 15 fishing boats in the Philippines, not approximately 30 as initially reported.

Forum letters should be sent with the writer’s name and address to forum@friendsjournal.org. Each letter is limited to 300 words and may be edited for length and clarity. Because of space constraints, we cannot publish every letter. Letters can also be left as comments on individual articles on Friendsjournal.org.

The post Forum, May 2025 appeared first on Friends Journal.

The Quaker affirmation of continuing revelation and freedom from doctrine calls for a new understanding of faith.

Philadelphia Yearly Meeting (PYM) on its website says, “PYM Quakers consider the inner light to be above and beyond the Bible and other formalistic, written dogmas. We trust that the continuing revelation of the inner light speaks to us in our everyday lives.”

Quaker teacher Rufus Jones, in Social Law in the Spiritual World, says that the concept of the Inner Light is used “to indicate the truth that whatever is spiritual must be within the realm of personal experience, that is to say, the ground of religion is in the individual’s own heart and not somewhere outside him.”

This Quaker perspective finds resonance in Zen thinking.

Zen wisdom is congenial to Quaker practice, as some Quakers have already come to see. In Mutual Irradiation, Quaker ecumenist Douglas Steere writes:

For some time we have been in the most friendly relations with the Zen Buddhists, who as antiliturgical, iconoclastic, unconventional witnesses to the spirit rather than the letter of the law have, in the Buddhist world, some marked similarities to Quakers in the Christian community.

The Rochester Zen Center, founded by Roshi Philip Kapleau, author of The Three Pillars of Zen, has at the top of its website the guidance: “Zen is a Practice, not a Belief.” This could be said of Quakerism as well.

Zen practitioners have long used sayings called koans to help in reaching self-realization. One well-known koan, taken from an ancient Chinese poem, is “Above, not a tile to cover the head; below, not an inch of ground for the foot.” (“Tile” here means “roof tile.”) This koan expresses the realization, shared by Quakers, that there is no fixed philosophy to hang your hat on, no religious doctrine upon which to stand. The koan is meant to throw practitioners back on their own devices, so that they can seek the truth within themselves.

Lack of certainty is not regarded as an evil to be put behind us, but as the basic situation we are always dealing with. The legendary teacher Boshan said, “Great doubt, great awakening; small doubt, small awakening; no doubt, no awakening.”

To characterize the open mind which we must maintain, some Zen teachers recommend an attitude of  “don’t-know mind” or “beginner’s mind,” as in the widely read Only Don’t Know: Selected Teaching Letters of Zen Master Seung Sahn, and Zen Mind, Beginner’s Mind by Shunryū Suzuki.

The deep listening called “expectant waiting” that Quakers practice in meeting for worship is a receptivity born of our innate knowledge that spiritually we are always beginners. Beginner’s mind and don’t-know mind are thus useful attitudes for Quakers to adopt, especially in meeting for worship, where we especially want to be open to what we don’t know.

The Quaker understanding of continuing revelation and freedom from dogma, especially in the light of a Zen perspective, calls for a refined understanding of faith. Faith has commonly been used to mean belief in something. If there is no doctrine to believe in, what does faith mean?

Faith does not require doctrine. Faith finds its central role, in fact, when we realize that there is no doctrine to believe in. Faith is not passive belief but is an act of will, an intentional openness to continuing revelation, to the grace of the ever-changing moment. Faith is thus a central part of Quaker religious practice. The intentional, moment-to-moment openness of expectant waiting (or beginner’s mind) is the work of faith.

We must create through faith a firmament in the midst of the waters of chaos. And we must recognize this work as an eternal process. While the fear of uncertainty is quieted by faith, the enduring fact of global uncertainty is a permanent part of our psychological reality, the anvil on which faith is worked. The courage and humility, and the rigor, with which Zen practitioners have long embodied beginner’s mind can provide guidance for Friends’ own practice, illuminating the meaning of faith.

The post Zen Faith appeared first on Friends Journal.

FJ_AnnualReport_2024

With Your Help, 2025 Will Be Even Stronger!.wForm form{text-align: left;} document.addEventListener("FA__DOMContentLoaded", function(){ const FORM_TIME_START = Math.floor((new Date).getTime()/1000); let formElement = document.getElementById("tfa_0"); if (null === formElement) { formElement = document.getElementById("0"); } let appendJsTimerElement = function(){ let formTimeDiff = Math.floor((new Date).getTime()/1000) - FORM_TIME_START; let cumulatedTimeElement = document.getElementById("tfa_dbCumulatedTime"); if (null !== cumulatedTimeElement) { let cumulatedTime = parseInt(cumulatedTimeElement.value); if (null !== cumulatedTime && cumulatedTime > 0) { formTimeDiff += cumulatedTime; } } let jsTimeInput = document.createElement("input"); jsTimeInput.setAttribute("type", "hidden"); jsTimeInput.setAttribute("value", formTimeDiff.toString()); jsTimeInput.setAttribute("name", "tfa_dbElapsedJsTime"); jsTimeInput.setAttribute("id", "tfa_dbElapsedJsTime"); jsTimeInput.setAttribute("autocomplete", "off"); if (null !== formElement) { formElement.appendChild(jsTimeInput); } }; if (null !== formElement) { if(formElement.addEventListener){ formElement.addEventListener('submit', appendJsTimerElement, false); } else if(formElement.attachEvent){ formElement.attachEvent('onsubmit', appendJsTimerElement); } } }); if(wFORMS.behaviors.prefill) wFORMS.behaviors.prefill.skip = true; #tfa_7, *[id^="tfa_7["] { width: 136px !important; } #tfa_7-D, *[id^="tfa_7["][class~="field-container-D"] { width: auto !important; } #tfa_7-L, label[id^="tfa_7["] { width: 227px !important; min-width: 0px; } #tfa_9, *[id^="tfa_9["] { width: 136px !important; } #tfa_9-D, *[id^="tfa_9["][class~="field-container-D"] { width: auto !important; } #tfa_9-L, label[id^="tfa_9["] { width: 196px !important; min-width: 0px; } #tfa_4-L, label[id^="tfa_4["] { width: 146px !important; min-width: 0px; } #tfa_2312, *[id^="tfa_2312["] { width: 559px !important; } #tfa_2312-D, *[id^="tfa_2312["][class~="field-container-D"] { width: auto !important; } #tfa_2311, *[id^="tfa_2311["] { width: 559px !important; } #tfa_2311-D, *[id^="tfa_2311["][class~="field-container-D"] { width: auto !important; } #tfa_2258, *[id^="tfa_2258["] { width: 291px !important; } #tfa_2258-D, *[id^="tfa_2258["][class~="field-container-D"] { width: auto !important; } #tfa_2258-L, label[id^="tfa_2258["] { width: 99px !important; min-width: 0px; } #tfa_2262, *[id^="tfa_2262["] { width: 196px !important; } #tfa_2262-D, *[id^="tfa_2262["][class~="field-container-D"] { width: auto !important; } #tfa_2262-L, label[id^="tfa_2262["] { width: 100px !important; min-width: 0px; } #tfa_2268, *[id^="tfa_2268["] { width: 511px !important; } #tfa_2268-D, *[id^="tfa_2268["][class~="field-container-D"] { width: auto !important; } #tfa_2268-L, label[id^="tfa_2268["] { width: 99px !important; min-width: 0px; } #tfa_2278, *[id^="tfa_2278["] { width: 239px !important; } #tfa_2278-D, *[id^="tfa_2278["][class~="field-container-D"] { width: auto !important; } #tfa_2278-L, label[id^="tfa_2278["] { width: 99px !important; min-width: 0px; } #tfa_2280, *[id^="tfa_2280["] { width: 76px !important; } #tfa_2280-D, *[id^="tfa_2280["][class~="field-container-D"] { width: auto !important; } #tfa_2280-L, label[id^="tfa_2280["] { width: 97px !important; min-width: 0px; } #tfa_2269, *[id^="tfa_2269["] { width: 135px !important; } #tfa_2269-D, *[id^="tfa_2269["][class~="field-container-D"] { width: auto !important; } #tfa_2269-L, label[id^="tfa_2269["] { width: 100px !important; min-width: 0px; } #tfa_2350, *[id^="tfa_2350["] { width: 211px !important; } #tfa_2350-D, *[id^="tfa_2350["][class~="field-container-D"] { width: auto !important; } #tfa_2259, *[id^="tfa_2259["] { width: 280px !important; } #tfa_2259-D, *[id^="tfa_2259["][class~="field-container-D"] { width: auto !important; } #tfa_2259-L, label[id^="tfa_2259["] { width: 100px !important; min-width: 0px; } #tfa_2300, *[id^="tfa_2300["] { width: 276px !important; } #tfa_2300-D, *[id^="tfa_2300["][class~="field-container-D"] { width: auto !important; } #tfa_2300-L, label[id^="tfa_2300["] { width: 100px !important; min-width: 0px; } #tfa_2343, *[id^="tfa_2343["] { width: 259px !important; } #tfa_2343-D, *[id^="tfa_2343["][class~="field-container-D"] { width: auto !important; } #tfa_2229, *[id^="tfa_2229["] { width: 190px !important; } #tfa_2229-D, *[id^="tfa_2229["][class~="field-container-D"] { width: auto !important; } #tfa_2229-L, label[id^="tfa_2229["] { width: 111px !important; min-width: 0px; } #tfa_2243, *[id^="tfa_2243["] { width: 249px !important; } #tfa_2243-D, *[id^="tfa_2243["][class~="field-container-D"] { width: auto !important; } #tfa_2287, *[id^="tfa_2287["] { width: 459px !important; } #tfa_2287-D, *[id^="tfa_2287["][class~="field-container-D"] { width: auto !important; } #tfa_2287-L, label[id^="tfa_2287["] { width: 111px !important; min-width: 0px; } #tfa_2288, *[id^="tfa_2288["] { width: 236px !important; } #tfa_2288-D, *[id^="tfa_2288["][class~="field-container-D"] { width: auto !important; } #tfa_2288-L, label[id^="tfa_2288["] { width: 111px !important; min-width: 0px; } #tfa_2289, *[id^="tfa_2289["] { width: 83px !important; } #tfa_2289-D, *[id^="tfa_2289["][class~="field-container-D"] { width: auto !important; } #tfa_2289-L, label[id^="tfa_2289["] { width: 95px !important; min-width: 0px; } #tfa_2290, *[id^="tfa_2290["] { width: 87px !important; } #tfa_2290-D, *[id^="tfa_2290["][class~="field-container-D"] { width: auto !important; } #tfa_2290-L, label[id^="tfa_2290["] { width: 60px !important; min-width: 0px; } #tfa_2319, *[id^="tfa_2319["] { width: 191px !important; } #tfa_2319-D, *[id^="tfa_2319["][class~="field-container-D"] { width: auto !important; } #tfa_2235, *[id^="tfa_2235["] { width: 251px !important; } #tfa_2235-D, *[id^="tfa_2235["][class~="field-container-D"] { width: auto !important; } #tfa_2235-L, label[id^="tfa_2235["] { width: 111px !important; min-width: 0px; } #tfa_2230, *[id^="tfa_2230["] { width: 253px !important; } #tfa_2230-D, *[id^="tfa_2230["][class~="field-container-D"] { width: auto !important; } #tfa_2230-L, label[id^="tfa_2230["] { width: 189px !important; min-width: 0px; } #tfa_2232, *[id^="tfa_2232["] { width: 44px !important; } #tfa_2232-D, *[id^="tfa_2232["][class~="field-container-D"] { width: auto !important; } #tfa_2232-L, label[id^="tfa_2232["] { width: 81px !important; min-width: 0px; } #tfa_2233, *[id^="tfa_2233["] { width: 44px !important; } #tfa_2233-D, *[id^="tfa_2233["][class~="field-container-D"] { width: auto !important; } #tfa_2233-L, label[id^="tfa_2233["] { width: 80px !important; min-width: 0px; } #tfa_2234, *[id^="tfa_2234["] { width: 60px !important; } #tfa_2234-D, *[id^="tfa_2234["][class~="field-container-D"] { width: auto !important; } #tfa_2234-L, label[id^="tfa_2234["] { width: 50px !important; min-width: 0px; } wFORMS.behaviors.paging.showTabNavigation = true; You must enable JavaScript in order to complete this form form, .wFormTitle, .wFormFooter {display:none;} .wFormContainer .lengthIndicator {display:none;} One-Time Gift Amount $ Monthly Gift Amount $ One-Time GiftMonthly Gift I consent to allowing Friends Publishing Corporation to charge my payment method monthly. I can cancel at any time. if(typeof wFORMS != 'undefined') { if(wFORMS.behaviors.validation) { wFORMS.behaviors.validation.rules['customtfa_2312'] = { selector: '*[id="tfa_2312"]', check: 'validateCustom'}; wFORMS.behaviors.validation.messages['customtfa_2312'] = "If you choose to give monthly you must check the billing consent"; } } TotalGifts
Please send Friends Journal to:
MyselfOne or more gift recipientsIf you already get the magazine, we'll renew your membership! x How would you like to receive Friends Journal? Please select... Print and Digital Editions Digital Edition OnlyThe digital edition of Friends Journal will be sent to your email address. Choose whether you'd like to receive Friends Journal in print, in addition to the digital edition Who would you like to gift Friends Journal to? (If you'd like to give Friends Journal to an organization rather than an individual, please call us at 215-563-8629 to set this up!) Gift Recipient Information First Name
Last Name
Street
City
State
Zip
Country (if outside USA)
Email
Renewal
Please select... Send renewal notice to me Send renewal notice to recipient
How should we send Friends Journal to this person? Please select... Print and Digital Editions Digital Edition Only RepeatableGift
Are you making this gift as an individual or on behalf of a meeting, church, or other organization? Individual GiftMeeting / Church / Organization Gift Meeting / Church / Organization Information Name of Meeting / Church / Organization
Your Title, e.g. Treasurer
Organization Address
Organization City
Organization State/Province
Organization ZIP / Postal Code
Organization Country
Your Billing Information First Name
Last Name
Street
City
State
Zip
Country (if outside USA)
Email
Card Number 
  MM
YY
Code
HiddenFields Campaign

Gifts to Friends Publishing Corporation, a 501(c)(3) nonprofit organization, are tax-deductible to the fullest extent of the law. Donors and potential donors are invited to examine our IRS Form 990 and learn more about Friends Journal’s commitment to financial transparency. Our tax ID number (EIN) is 23-1465406. Please contact Sara Gada by email or phone at (800) 471-6863 with any questions about giving.

The post Annual Report for 2024 appeared first on Friends Journal.

Difficulties, Delights, Discoveries, and Desires Living with Long COVID

Since contracting COVID in late 2023 and developing long COVID, I have experienced life through a haze of brain fog—alterations in cognition that include memory loss, decreased attention and concentration, and difficulties with thinking—and chronic fatigue. I want to share what it has been like to experience Quaker faith and practice through that haze. Inspired by a late elder’s favorite format for event evaluations, I hope to convey some of the complexity of this experience by describing my difficulties, delights, discoveries, and desires.

DifficultiesFinding and feeling the Divine

Much like how I forgot the familiar route to a local grocery store the other week, these days I often lose my way when trying to find the Source. In part, this has to do with my cognitive limitations closing many familiar doors to worship. Practices like recalling my day or week in the style of an examen, focusing my attention on someone to hold them in the Light, or reflecting on passages of spiritually rich writings are now difficult or impossible. But beyond my difficulties with particular spiritual practices, my brain fog seems to pose a fundamental difficulty with feeling the presence of Spirit. It reminds me of accounts from people of faith who have developed dementia, such as what Presbyterian minister Robert Davis wrote early in his journey with Alzheimer’s: “This personal, tender relationship that I had with the Lord was no longer there. This time of love and worship was removed. There were no longer any feelings of peace and joy.” 

Focusing in worship

Due to both my brain fog and some of the medications I take for my fatigue, I have a lot of difficulty with attention and concentration. My mind wanders in meeting for worship, including while Friends are giving vocal ministry. In Experiment with Light meditations on my own, I find myself unable to attend to the prompts for more than a minute or two. This is often frustrating for me. I also feel a deeply ingrained sense of shame for not being able to offer better attention to the Divine and my fellow worshipers, despite knowing that my lack of attention is not my fault.

Comprehending business

Most Quaker business documents do not make it past the layer of fog in my brain. The fog makes it too difficult to keep track of long sentences, hold multiple points in mind at the same time, and recall previous decisions and processes being referenced. In meetings for worship with attention to business, I struggle similarly with comprehending Friends’ verbal reports and remarks. I also struggle to sense unity or disunity in the room because my brain fog impedes my awareness of my surroundings and my sense of orientation in them. As a result of all this, I find Quaker business very hard to follow these days.

Releasing responsibilities

My brain fog and fatigue have forced me to reevaluate my committee, representative, and officer responsibilities. While I had been approved as a recording clerk of my yearly meeting before I contracted COVID, once I developed my current memory and language processing difficulties, it became clear that this role was no longer a good fit. I also discerned that I could not continue as co-clerk of my yearly meeting’s communications committee. I have felt some grief—and, as someone who grew up with a duty-oriented understanding of religion, a bit of guilt—in laying down these responsibilities. 

Managing energy during gatherings 

I am fortunate to have been able to attend some Quaker gatherings in the past year despite my limitations. However, managing my energy during these gatherings has proven quite difficult. I find myself stressed as I continually try to assess whether attending this or that part of the program will tip me over into post-exertional malaise, a marked worsening of symptoms following overexertion. When I make the assessment that I need to skip an activity, I sometimes get lonely. It can feel isolating to be stuck in a dorm room resting when everyone else is excitedly heading off to a plenary keynote. 

DelightsEldering and spiritual companionship

When I first came down with COVID, I felt inspired to ask a wise Friend to serve as my “COVID elder,” thinking she could help accompany me through the fears, anxieties, and past spiritual wounds that COVID was bringing up for me. She agreed, and as acute COVID progressed into long COVID, she eldered me through all manner of COVID-related experiences (including the difficulties described here) for eight months and has continued to accompany me as a spiritual companion. It has been a tremendous gift to be so closely accompanied while learning how to navigate my spiritual journey amid brain fog and fatigue. I have also delighted in getting to know a few Friends who have had similar experiences to mine with long COVID and myalgic encephalomyelitis/chronic fatigue syndrome.

Experiencing embodiment more fully

Some time before I contracted COVID, a Friend and I were sharing deeply and using the practice of reflecting back what we felt in our bodies when the other spoke. At one point, I recounted feeling tingles down my back, and they enthusiastically affirmed, “The tingles! You’ve got to pay attention to the tingles!” I remember hearing the wisdom in that—and then promptly returning to my habitual practice of mostly ignoring everything I feel in my body. Now that my thoughts are obscured by the haze of brain fog and fatigue, I find myself finally paying attention to the tingles on a regular basis. In meeting for worship, I think less and feel more. Many messages go by without my focusing on them or understanding them, but when a sentence is charged with one of those profound truths that sets off the tingles, I notice it. This shift towards embodied experience prompted me to attend a Ben Lomond Quaker Center program on the practice of Authentic Movement, which I found deeply meaningful. In spaces lovingly held by witnesses, we closed our eyes and moved as our bodies led us. Our closing session, a blend of Authentic Movement and unprogrammed meeting for worship, contained some of the most tender and Spirit-filled moments I have experienced among Friends. I left delighted to feel more fully embodied than I had in years.

DiscoveriesNew image of the Divine

My painful and confounding experience of not being able to center down and connect with Spirit like I used to has led me to rediscover Thomas Kelly’s wonderful image of God as solvent. Rather than trying to encounter the Divine, I am trying to simply let myself dissolve into the Divine. In meetings for worship, with and without attention to business, I am letting go of my expectation to receive spiritual insights in my thoughts or to sense unity in the room, instead simply imagining myself dissolving into a puddle of God under the chairs.

Hidden attachments to release

Recently, when a change in my medications precipitated a drastic change in my attention and concentration, I was graced with the insight that I had been attached to the high degree of focus I used to have. I had assumed that the attentive watchfulness others had noticed in me since infancy was fundamental to my identity, and I derived pride from my hard work to cultivate it over the years. Seeing this attachment allowed me to let it go and to realize that I could simply experience focus as a gift—one possible gift among many—when I receive it.

New relationship to time

With my past routines upended and my memory jumbled, I find myself experiencing time differently. Past, present, and future feel swirled together. Paradoxically, I feel more aware of both my mortality and the expansiveness of my potential lifespan. It reminds me of the han sha ze sho nen symbol in reiki, a symbol of the connectivity and totality of time and space. This experience of time has led me to realize that not everything I discern as mine to do needs to be done right now and that not all of my spiritual gifts need to be developed and exercised immediately. As I discern questions like whether to serve on a given committee or pursue a particular route in my vocation, which I previously would have approached as yes-or-no questions, I am discovering that sometimes the answer is “yes but not yet.”

DesiresVisible and connected community

I have been fortunate that at a few large Quaker gatherings, I have met other Friends with similar conditions, and we have felt comfortable disclosing them to each other. I wish that these connections were easier to make. Statistically speaking, there must be a large contingent of us Friends who have long COVID, chronic fatigue syndrome, dementia, or other forms of fatigue and altered cognition, but we seem to be invisible. I hope that with increasing modes of communication and destigmatization of neurodivergence, we can find each other and build community more easily in the future. 

Support from the wider Quaker community

I am grateful that when I was first navigating the transition from acute COVID to long COVID, I had a support committee of four spiritually weighty and medically knowledgeable Friends from my monthly meeting. But I wish that I had been offered a support committee rather than having to request it, and I wish that the Friends serving on it had been better prepared to figure out how to support me. Reflecting on the training I had in divinity school in providing pastoral care to people with dementia, I wonder if something similar could equip pastoral care committees with a better sense of when to offer help and what kind of help might be needed. Looking beyond monthly meetings, I wish that larger gatherings of Friends included more space to rest and retreat. I wish that it were always acceptable to lie down in business meetings like it is in my yearly meeting’s annual sessions, that all Quaker gatherings had a period of sabbath like the Friends General Conference (FGC) Gathering, and that we always encouraged each other to pace ourselves like we do in disability breakout groups.

More forms of worship

Too much of Quaker worship and business revolves around comprehending language and contemplating abstract ideas, with a lot of importance placed on things like vocal ministry and responding to queries. For many of us, myself prior to long COVID included, this is a comfortable place to be and even a reason for becoming Quaker. But as my current cognitive difficulties have made me acutely aware, thinking is only one door to worship, and not everyone can go through it easily. I hope for more meetings for worship that invite movement, chant, energy work, and other modes of connecting with and expressing Spirit that go beyond the thinking mind. I think this is possible even in meetings for worship with attention to business; for example, one of the Quaker committees I serve on has a long-standing tradition of presenting its reports in the form of a skit or song.

Reckoning with ableism

When I became a Quaker, I absorbed two pieces of theology about words. One was that if a piece of vocal ministry or spiritual writing fails to move us or make sense to us, it must be meant for others and not us. The other was that—as we like to quote Papunhank’s words to John Woolman—“where the words come from” is more important than the actual words. It was only a couple years ago that I realized (with help from a fellow neurodivergent divinity school student) how ableist this theology can be. As much as we may profess otherwise, our Quaker community does currently depend on complex language, and theologizing away our responsibility to ensure that everyone can share in what is being said ends up excluding a whole lot of people. I have been happy to see more attention to disability among Friends in the past couple years, and I hope we can take a step further by reckoning with instances of ableism.

Sometimes when I discuss these difficulties, delights, discoveries, and desires among Friends I am met with questions of theodicy—questions of how to reconcile the existence of suffering with our powerful experiences of a loving God, a healing Light, a meaningful cosmos. Are the difficulties of long COVID a spiritual test from the ultimate Teacher? Was long COVID the way for the universe to have me make these discoveries and experience these delights? Did Spirit want me to go through long COVID in order to awaken these desires for transformation in the Religious Society of Friends and spur me to action? 

My experience is closer to a metaphor a Friend once shared with me of the Divine as a found-object artist. Like human found-object artists using clothing irons and urinals to create works of art, the Divine can use whatever events happen to occur in our lives, including the most banal and unpleasant ones, to sculpt our spiritual development and weave our future ministries. In my case, getting long COVID was not part of a divine plan, it just happened, but Spirit has been able to use my foggy brain and fatigued body to help me make some spiritual discoveries and generate desires that may eventually grow into leadings. 

Yet even this metaphor can at times feel like a misguided effort to tie up a messy human experience with a spiritual bow. So if you see me and ask how I am, prepare for a long answer: collaborating with the divine Artist, disconnected from Spirit, fired up about change, in need of a nap, enlightened, confused, well-supported, lonely, grateful, frustrated, joyful, sad…this is my messy reality of faith and practice in the long COVID fog.

The post Worshiping in the Fog appeared first on Friends Journal.

Assessing Our Rules About Vocal Ministry

When should we change the rules about speaking in meeting for worship? If the main rule about this practice, sometimes called “giving ministry” or “sharing a message,” is that we feel led by the Spirit to speak, the obvious answer is that we can change any of the other rules when we are led to do so. However, it can be hard to hear even a clear, inward voice asking us to do something that we’ve never considered to be possible. My prophetic goal in this article is to present some more or less radical possibilities for change, which you can test against the promptings which love is currently giving to you and your community.

In some situations, we may simply have too many rules. Giving and receiving messages in an unprogrammed meeting for worship is a mysterious and beautiful aspect of our Quaker practice. I think it can bring us into very close contact with the Divine within ourselves and each other. It can be completely natural for us. Like many other things in the natural world, it can also seem deeply weird; it can be the location of anxiety and uncertainty. When I facilitate discussions about Quaker worship, people often have questions about spoken ministry. How much is too much; how little is too little; what is allowed or not allowed; what should we control about it; and how do we do that? 

To some extent, that uncertainty is an integral part of the process of unprogrammed worship, which ought to be unpredictable, at least to the human mind. This uncertainty can also prompt us to try to control the situation, especially to set up rules, guidelines, or bylaws that try to address one problem but risk creating others. It’s tough to trust ourselves, other people, and the Light to avoid making any plans at all about how our worship should go, but sometimes the rules we make have unintended effects. For example, if we talk too much about the need to feel physical symptoms of being called to speak—shaking or being pushed to our feet—we may set up an expectation that prevents people from speaking, if they were to experience the call in a different way. If we stick too rigidly to a rule that everyone must stand, we lose the ministry of people for whom that’s not practical and or those for whom it’s physically possible but psychologically much too daunting.

Instead of setting up these kinds of rules, what could we do instead? 

Watch and wait; wait and watch. This is not a radical suggestion; it’s at the heart of unprogrammed worship, in which we open ourselves through silence and stillness: both inward and outward—to whatever degree we can achieve it—in order to listen to whatever emerges. 

When we are challenged by someone’s ministry, there can be a temptation to leap into action. Sometimes this is part of the flow: fully immersed in the current of the meeting for worship, we add to someone’s ministry with our own, even if that means telling someone they have been heard and we now need quiet, asking them to leave the room with us, or stating that a harmful viewpoint is not shared by the community. But if it doesn’t come as part of the flow, it may be better to return to the center of the worship and wait. 

If we do need to dive into something, we could choose curiosity. The river of meeting for worship contains many aspects: the Living Water, which carries us along but also the banks; riverbed; any boats or floats we bring with us, ways to get in and out; a Source which may seem distant or close; and, at the far end, a great Ocean of Light, which we may be suddenly approaching or never experience. Considering this whole picture, we can ask many questions about a particular message or a pattern in the ministry our community hears: How do I, or we, feel when we hear these messages? How does this ministry move us in relation to our spiritual journey? Are we welcomed into a faster or a warmer current, stranded on mud flats, surrounded by playful fish or dangerous ones, or safely in the flow or fighting to get out?

In the same way that we test messages to see if they are for us as individuals or for sharing, I can ask whether my response to ministry is information for me alone or for the community. In the same way that we are in a discernment process, we might look for a pattern of signs that point to a direction of travel or try to disrupt a socially conventional pattern by going beyond it. In reflecting on the ministry we receive in meeting for worship, we might ask whether we are being shown something through a pattern or whether the pattern is hiding the real message. 

Let me give you an example. I can remember being very upset by some ministry that felt deeply personal and attacking. I felt convinced that I was seen to be doing something wrong, even though I also felt that I didn’t have the power to change it. I cried. I could have lashed out. Sitting with it in worship, I asked questions about it: Where is this coming from? What feels Spirit-led, and what is from elsewhere? What else do I know about the situation that might allow me to make sense of it? In that questioning process, it became clear that however personal it felt, a message given to the entire yearly meeting was only aimed at me in the sense that it was indeed God speaking to my condition, and at some level I had known that all along. It was a hard message to hear because the request to give what we can also brought up for me things that were not from God at all: assumptions from the society in which I live that people earn their worth by earning money and assumptions from my ego that I should be actively involved in getting everything done. I am called to give what I can to my community. I was not, at that time, called to give more money.

Messages that are true and give genuine insight can come in many forms. Traditionally, we speak or maybe sing. Traditionally, we stand to speak, partly to be visible and partly to project our voices. More recently it’s been common to use a microphone, to start by unmuting yourself on Zoom, or otherwise use technology to enable and improve the communication. All of these usually focus on speech. Sometimes ministry might be given deliberately through movement, drawing, or other art forms. Accidental contributions, like a baby’s cry or a bird’s song, are sometimes recognized as ministry. Depending on the timing and location of the worship, more challenging gifts can be welcomed by some Friends as part of the diversity of the meeting such as sounds of a washing machine, an ambulance siren, a drunk party-goer, or of someone being arrested. 

When we recognize the value that everything brings to our worship, we can still appreciate the silence but also be open to different types of ministry. For example, people often worry that ministry is too political. I’m sympathetic to this. Although I do pray for guidance on the way to vote and other political questions, I think that an election campaign message is likely to be divisive and the details are unlikely to be directly from God, even if the general points are heartfelt. However, I worry that this rule prevents other messages that we should be hearing: messages that name a politician as a jumping-off point rather than an endorsement, messages that are about people’s everyday experience that can’t be separated from the political and may reveal the movement of the Spirit in their lives. This is especially so for ministry from members of our community who are marginalized in various ways and seen as “political” or “angry,” even though a well-off White cis man who brought the same message might not be perceived in the same way. 

When ministry presents challenges to the community, we sometimes set up new rules. We don’t want meeting for worship to run past the pre-arranged time, and we feel overwhelmed if several people wait until almost the end of worship to speak. So we ask people not to speak near the end “when it was well left before,” which can then become “not in the last five minutes” and then “not in the last ten minutes.” If we then discourage people from speaking in the first 15 minutes when latecomers still might be arriving and people are centering down, we can get our open worship down from an hour to 35 minutes and drastically reduce the risk that anything really difficult and Spirit-led will be able to get through! If we make sure everyone leaves a gap of at least ten minutes between messages, we can avoid hearing more than three things on a Sunday morning. We could consider other rules, such as those about not speaking twice, about keeping ministry short, about avoiding certain language, about not being too emotional, and so on. These rules may arise from good intentions and protect us from some kinds of harm, while at the same time, they may prevent us from finding exactly the thing we came seeking in unprogrammed worship. Love is messy. Light shines, and warmth spreads in all directions. Life might be neater, but we would be poorer if we could put God in a tidy box.

Changing the rules of ministry in meeting for worship doesn’t just mean stripping away extra rules, although I hope I’ve demonstrated that it might be useful to do that. It can also mean considering what rules we should adopt in order to bring authentic, Spirit-led ministry into our meetings. I think of this activity as similar to cultivating a garden. There’s a fair amount in a garden that is outside the gardener’s control: we can’t force a plant to flower. In the same way, we can’t make God give someone a message. What we can do is try to create the right conditions: the water, the light, the shelter, and the temperature, knowing the plant and its needs. Perhaps by the sort of curious questioning I described earlier, we can make it more or less likely that flowers will grow. In cultivating ministry, that might mean developing our responsiveness to leadings and promptings in all areas of life. 

For some people, speaking in meeting functions as a practice ground in which we learn the feeling of being led. After all, if we make a mistake and either outrun our Guide—speaking more or sooner than we should—or if we ignore a prompting and don’t share a message, it’s unlikely to lead to death, misery, or financial ruin. It can be deeply uncomfortable, but the risks of each specific decision are somewhat contained. (Sometimes we find that it was useful anyway: the extra words had given someone else a clue to the way forward, or an unspoken message was given by someone else.) But we can also look at it the other way around: thinking about the way in which practicing discernment in other areas of life (holding up to the Light all sorts of questions about our daily choices) can help us to hone that skill and be ready to speak if the leading comes. In a similar way, we might consider how to develop in ourselves and our communities other skills relevant to giving authentic ministry: expressing ourselves in multiple ways, including through words and art; building trust; getting used to sharing; being vulnerable; holding boundaries; and making meeting for worship itself accessible, so there are people present to listen and be led.

Ultimately, the rules for meeting for worship should enable us to be fully ourselves and ready to be somebody new. The emphasis on rules about ministry to share only what is Spirit-given and not from the ego can lead to a sense that all the messages should match in some way. Perhaps real ministry does at the deepest level all point in the same direction: towards peace, justice, and love. That doesn’t mean messages should match in tone, grammar, language, or experience. It doesn’t mean they should come in standard English and in a calm manner without hand-flapping, dialect words, tics, stutters, or whatever other variations come with our authentic forms of communication. Giving ministry that arises from our real selves is not egotistical but real: as children of God, we are loved exactly as we are. It can be difficult to feel and show that love in community because, of course, we are also flawed humans, but we are loved in that too! Our spiritual experience is part of our bodily experience, our thoughts, and imaginations, and our sharing in ministry will be richer when we can share the whole picture.

When we give ministry, we can also be transformed. The Bible has a number of stories of people who were given new names when they encountered God. As we share our selves, those selves are changed by the contact with divine love in community. Sometimes suddenly and sometimes slowly, we become new people: one person may become pacifist when they couldn’t take that position before; another is called to new work; another starts a new spiritual practice and finds a leading to speak in meeting for the first time; another may find the strength to continue when being close to giving up; someone else gains the courage to tell the truth. How do we as communities move towards that ideal while explaining our aims and practices clearly and, at the same, ensure we’re not getting in our own way by setting up unnecessary rules that prevent us receiving messages we need? By acting as a channel for God’s love and accepting the leadings of the Spirit to give a message to the community, we can both value our reality as we have it now and be open to an ever-expanding palette of possibilities.

The post Speaking as Myself and Someone New appeared first on Friends Journal.

A Conversation with Quaker Author Philip Gulley

For three years, I regularly worked with bright but struggling ninth graders at a small private school in Hartford, Connecticut, helping them manage their attention deficit hyperactivity disorder and executive functioning challenges. Perhaps the most transformative of all the strategies we employed was teaching them how to understand and unlearn their fears.

Fear profoundly affects our brains, impairing our memory, critical thinking, and decision making.

While fear triggers our primal fight-or-flight instinct, we often seek external sources to soothe that internal alarm. Quaker author Philip Gulley, describing his own spiritual journey from Catholicism through Evangelicalism and eventually to Universalism, illustrates how many of us initially trusted God to alleviate our fears:

One of the first things we learn is that God loves us, that God’s in control, is a product of our deepest need, which is to live life without being crippled by fear or a sense of hopelessness. And so we posit all these powers into a divine being so that we don’t have to go through life worrying that no one’s in control and that this will somehow end up okay.

Gulley spoke with my cohost Sweet Miche and me about his 2018 book Unlearning God: How Unbelieving Helped Me Believe. You can listen to the conversation in the April 2025 episode of the Quakers Today podcast.

Chatting with Gulley about his spiritual journey got me reflecting on when I was a teen struggling with my identity. Fears about my existence in this life and the next plagued me, but then I encountered God. It was also a time in my life when I felt an increasing desire for growth and new life.

When my parents offered to repaint my room, I chose mint green—a cool, restful shade. Beneath a Spanish chestnut tree and beside a lake, my quiet bedroom shimmered with reflections and gentle breezes. It was there that I first sensed God inviting me into a partnership.

Soon after that experience, I joined a Bible church where Pastor Nick regularly warned us about hidden spiritual dangers. Among the first verses I memorized was 1 Peter 5:8, a scripture verse steeped in fear: “Be alert and of sober mind. Your enemy the devil prowls around like a roaring lion looking for someone to devour.” Though perhaps well-meaning, the elders introduced many new anxieties into my life.

According to Gulley, an emphasis on fear is nothing new. It goes all the way back to the book of Genesis and the Garden of Eden. Gulley loves the story of Adam and Eve, yet he remains puzzled by the conflicting messages within it. God provided the couple with an abundant garden filled with fresh produce, yet forbade them from eating the fruit of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil. Reflecting on this narrative, Gulley observes:

We know now that four different authors wrote the first five books of the Bible. And some of those sources were very poetic, exploratory, had all kinds of questions and just wrote very movingly. Others of them were priestly and really liked nailing things down. And I suspect the person who came up with that story was somebody who worshiped every day at the altar of fear. This is the problem. The problem is not letting God discern good and evil, but you attempting to discern what is right and what is wrong. And here’s where that will get you—it will get you thrown out of the garden and subject to work and be miserable. And it’s just such a depressing story.

For centuries, religious leaders have kept people like me confined to a narrow path. For a long time, I preferred this safety, outsourcing the hard work of discernment rather than trusting my direct experience of the Spirit.

How unlike the early Quakers, who boldly rejected the authority of established church leaders and the educated clergy! Those Quakers dared to question accepted teachings, breaking free from spiritual hierarchies to seek guidance directly from God and live by the leading of the Spirit.

Centuries later, in the United States, we are experiencing the repercussions of religious authorities’ overreach—a phenomenon Gulley says carries profound political consequences:

Well, it’s clear that fear is probably the driving motivation in our culture. I think that’s especially obvious now with the rise of Donald Trump and his supporters, which, in a way, was a masterfully evil manipulation of human fears. It identified and targeted the other, painted a dystopian worldview of what might happen if we didn’t fix this and get rid of these people—you know, the other. And I think the reason 82 percent of American evangelicals voted for him is that is the language they understand. They have been steeped in a culture of fear, in judgment, and so when he talks, he’s speaking their language.

In my teens and 20s, I willingly submitted myself to Evangelical and Pentecostal ministers who spoke endlessly about love but consistently preached a fear that kept us firmly seated in the pews. This fear also energized us to support politicians who promoted Christian nationalism.

Gulley, who has had to unlearn this fear himself, offers straightforward advice for those currently ensnared by fear in our political moment: “I encourage as many of them as I meet and encounter to get therapy because I believe it’s indicative of a mental neurosis that needs to be healed.”

While my instinctual response to fear is fight or flight, I nonetheless allowed myself to marinate in church-induced fear for nearly two decades. I asked Gulley why fear is so compelling and his response startled me: “The thing is, on one level, it works for them emotionally. They find it emotionally satisfying.”

How could this constant fear have been emotionally satisfying—the terror that if I strayed from the path outlined by pastors, I would lose everything, even God’s love? Why hadn’t I fled or fought back against the ministers? I had fought—alongside ministers—against invisible forces we believed ruled society. By supporting politicians who opposed reproductive rights and LGBTQ liberation, we aimed to transform America into a Christian nation.

Fear immobilized my critical thinking, allowing church leaders to shape my beliefs. Fighting against “the enemy” felt powerful, valuable, and emotionally satisfying.

The work of questioning everything I believed was far less emotionally satisfying but essential for my spiritual growth and mental well-being. Coming out as gay was easy compared to the painful process of examining and unlearning the fearful lessons that had ruled my life.

For nearly 20 years, I had strived to cultivate the fruit of the Spirit outlined in Galatians 5:22–23: “But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control. Against such things there is no law.” With therapy and deep reflection, I saw that instead, I had harvested a bitter crop of self-hatred, cruelty, depression, intolerance, shame, and fear. How far I had drifted from that sweet early encounter with God in my mint-green bedroom!

Gulley suggests we examine every belief, asking whether it diminishes or enriches our lives. If a belief makes us smaller, less loving, or causes us to diminish others, Gulley says he feels “very comfortable jettisoning it and letting it go and saying, ‘I’m not going to let that belief inform my life any longer.’” On the other hand, if a belief helps us move forward, fosters growth, or makes us more loving, he insists on retaining it—regardless of its origin. “I don’t care who taught it to me,” Gulley explains. “It doesn’t matter if I learned that from a Catholic nun at the age of six. If it still works, I’m going to keep it.”

The post Unlearning Fear and Shame appeared first on Friends Journal.

There is said to be a Chinese proverb that acts as a curse: May you live in interesting times. Like most pithy phrases, its authenticity is doubtful (it seems to have been coined by Neville Chamberlain’s father, of all people). Our pop culture is full of dubious things never said. Yes, I’m sorry but Gandhi never told us to be the change we want to see in the world, Washington never copped to cutting down a cherry tree, and Fox never told Penn to keep wearing his sword.

But there is nonetheless a stress that comes from a news cycle that never lets up. It’s easy to go down a rabbit hole of they did what? and they said what? Friends have often lived in tumultuous and dangerous times, and we find ourselves once again in an era in which those in power are challenging norms and perpetrating injustices. Maybe the real truth is that these are always our times. The wars we see breaking out across the world are complicated ones that don’t always have clear good and bad actors or easy pacifist solutions. We must be willing to stand with the victims of all sides and risk being denounced by everyone. We will be called naïve. Sometimes we will be dismissed as foolish children of the Light.

My favorite foolish article this month might be Robert Stephen Dicken’s. Facing a terminal illness, Steve, as he was known, discovered a guardian angel who would talk to him. Acknowledging that this might be an effect of “chemo brain,” he nonetheless felt a kind of comfort in the presence. Steve has written for us a few times, but this is the last, as he died shortly after writing this piece. I’d like to think we are all looked after, both individually and as a community trying to follow God’s will.

We usually have our “Quaker Works” round-up of the activities of Friends in the April issue. We’ve been running this column twice a year for ten years now and are taking a break this time to survey participating organizations and see how we might better serve them and our readers. The column will return in October.

Many issues of Friends Journal are like the one in your hand: collections of the most interesting articles we’ve gotten over the last few months. The originality of topics is always a surprise. We love putting them together and often notice how articles complement one another in unexpected ways. But about half of our issues are themed. This allows us to be proactive: we can try to identify topics we think Friends should be talking about. We don’t decide this by ourselves alone. We send out emails and post on social media asking for suggestions. We’ve recently distilled all of these ideas into a list of themed issues for 2026 and 2027. It’s a pretty exciting line-up. We’ll be asking about Indigenous Friends, looking at the peace testimony today, asking about eco-spirituality and much more. Check out our new list at Friendsjournal.org/submissions.

I’m grateful for all the readers who contacted us with ideas. This magazine is really a community project: our readers suggest ideas, and Friends write in with fascinating articles that communicate their Quaker experience. I’m grateful for all the hard work that makes curating these issues so enjoyable!

The post Persistence and Focus appeared first on Friends Journal.

Bolivian Quakers’ Witness to Climate Crisis

Like many Bolivian young people, I feel grateful to have grown up among Indigenous people. They value the creation that gives them food, shelter, peace, and joy. Since I was a child, I have known that stones, mountains, rivers, plants, flowers, and animals are loved, respected, and honored by the local people, young and old, in our community. Our grandparents’ and parents’ main teaching consisted in helping us to understand and value the creation. Thus, this was the way I have felt connected to the Creator since my childhood.

Bolivian families who live in rural areas are called “peasants” by the urban citizens. Life in the rural areas where Indigenous communities are located is simple in material goods but rich in feeling the goodness of creation. For example, in the Bolivian highlands, families work in the early morning on their crops and take care of domestic animals with joy and love. When they plant quinoa, peas, and potatoes, they thank the Creator and bless the creation. As the plants grow, the people follow the weather day and night by watching the sky, clouds, rain, frost, stars, and wind as they take care of their crops. So they keep hope until the harvest season arrives once a year, which happens in March.

Potato bags are being unloaded from the truck.

This system of growing their food has changed in the last 15 years in a radical way because extreme weather has threatened the planting process and the crops. One of the first effects of climate change was seeing less water in the rivers and springs, which left us with less water for drinking, bathing, and cooking and also less water for the animals and crops. For us, water has always been a blessing, like tasting the presence of the Creator. When a new baby is born, an Indigenous mother gives a drop of water to the baby as a sign to feel the creation. And when it rains, water brings us joy because there will be water for drinking and for our crops. But the extreme heat and droughts have altered this life of connectedness with the Creator through nature.

It has been heartbreaking to see each year how our rivers, springs, and mountain snow caps have disappeared from our region. It is a huge loss for us because Indigenous people depend on nature as granted by God, our Creator. Now we have to worry about water when it is rationed to each family. And we see less food now; we used to have plenty of food to nurture our bodies. Even the poorest families had food to sustain their families in the past. 

Young adult Friends showed up faithfully to work as volunteers in this project. They visited various communities to coordinate with local authorities and to get information about the families who were affected by the drought. Then they went back to these communities to distribute the potatoes. 

At the Friends International Bilingual Center, young Quakers have done different types of work regarding the environment and climate change since 2016. We built biosand water filters to provide drinking water to the families for nearly five years. We have offered environmental workshops addressed to Bolivian youth for deepening our education about the environment and climate-change issues. Above all, through these workshops, participants have the encouragement to come up with ideas and action projects to prevent the worst effects of climate change on the people. 

In 2022, Bolivians faced a terrible drought. The Indigenous families in the highland lost their potato crops. The seed potatoes died in the ground. In response, the Bolivian Quaker youth felt called to do a relief action in this time of great sorrow among Indigenous families.

In January 2023, when many Bolivian families in the highlands declared that their potato crops failed, and they wouldn’t have a harvest in the following March, Bolivian Quaker youth organized a project to help them. We called it the Food Security Project because our Indigenous families were facing starvation. Humbly, we planned to provide potatoes for eating to these families in the first part of 2023. Our hope was to raise funds for ten families, and so we arranged a budget of $50 per family, which is enough to give one hundred pounds of potatoes to a family; we hoped that this amount would last at least for a couple months. In one of the communities, we heard an elderly man saying loudly, “I will eat one potato each day,” as he held a potato in his hand with tears of joy in his eyes after he had received the bags of potatoes. With the favor of God, our project was successful because we ended up distributing potatoes to one hundred and fifty families most in need in various communities. Also, young adult Friends showed up faithfully to work as volunteers in this project. They visited various communities to coordinate with local authorities and to get information about the families who were affected by the drought. Then they went back to these communities to distribute the potatoes. The distribution of potatoes in one Indigenous community usually took from 8:00 a.m. to 5:00 p.m. on a Saturday.

As we said goodbye to the families once we had distributed the potatoes, the locals requested help with seed potatoes for the planting season in October. Our answer to them was a diplomatic smile and some words of hope: “If God provides donations for the seed potatoes, there will be seed potatoes for your community; please pray.” Although there was not much time to raise funds between June and August, we were able to get donations for the seed potatoes. I still remember one local authority sent a WhatsApp message in August that said, “It is snowing, which means there will be a good harvest in 2024. Please, we hope to receive the seed potatoes.” His words confirmed that it was God’s will to distribute the seed potatoes, no matter if there was money or not in our hands. By faith, we contacted the families in September 2023 to tell them that each family would get 125 pounds of seed potatoes.

A family getting potato seeds in community of Patacamaya.

In the planting season from October to November in 2023, our young adult Friends did amazing work in the process of distributing the seed potatoes. Most of our volunteers were young women. In spite of the fact that women are not often appointed as leaders, in October some of them decided to lead the volunteering team to each community. They had gotten a lot of experience in coordinating with local leaders and in talking to the gathered families during the first part of 2023. Our leaders made sure to purchase the huge bags of seed potatoes, to rent a car for the transport of the potato bags, and to arrange all logistic details both in the city and the Indigenous communities. 

Usually our volunteer leaders and their teams came back from those communities exhausted but with great joy. Whenever they shared about the experience of their service work, they said, “It was an experience of love”; “Wow, on the faces of the families there was much love and joy as they received the seed potatoes”; “I am glad I was invited to join the volunteering team because I felt filled with love”; “Please, let me know when you go to another community next time because this is the type of work I was feeling led to do in ministry.” Thanks to the love of these young volunteers and the Quaker donors in the United States, more than three hundred Indigenous families joyfully received seed potatoes by November 2023.

We are still running this Food Security Project by distributing food items in both highlands and in the jungle areas where there are droughts, flooding, and fires. Doing this service project has been a wonderful transforming experience for both the volunteers and the Indigenous families.

In March 2024, we visited these families again to ask them how the harvest went. Most of them showed us tons of beautiful huge potatoes. Some of them cooked the new potatoes for us to thank us. And they told us that they now had enough food for the whole year and new seed potatoes for planting the crops. That experience encouraged us to offer the same support to other Indigenous communities in October 2024. We distributed the seed potatoes to another 244 families, even though there were political, social, and economic crises in our country. Now we are still running this Food Security Project by distributing food items in both highlands and in the jungle areas where there are droughts, flooding, and fires. The service projects have been a wonderful transforming experience for both the volunteers and the Indigenous families. However, there is still much work to do among Indigenous families in my country due to the severe effects of climate change.

The post An Experience of Love appeared first on Friends Journal.

Hope and Inspiration for Climate Action

About 20 years ago, Robert Engman gave everyone in our meeting a copy of James Howard Kunstler’s The Long Emergency. In reading it, I realized that as we humans are such great procrastinators, it was absolutely essential to get people to pay attention to climate change as soon as possible. As a scientist, I felt I might be able to explain the way climate change is happening and help folks understand the urgent need for action. I requested a travel minute to go from meeting to meeting with that story. In the course of that work, I met a number of like-minded Friends who were led to various pieces of the work. In this article, I’d like to introduce you to a few of them and show you what gives us hope for the future in our activism on climate.

You might think it simple. Scientists can prove that burning fossil fuels like coal and oil has released so much carbon dioxide, methane, and other greenhouse gasses into the atmosphere that the Earth is warming faster than at any other time we humans have been alive. If we don’t stop soon, there will be more and more climate disruption and species extinctions. So, let’s just tell everyone what is happening, and they’ll just stop doing it: right? In fact, scientists have been telling folks about this for 120 years now, and people haven’t stopped yet, but on the positive side, they now have (mostly) admitted there’s a problem. But change doesn’t happen all at once. It happens little by little, as actions grow into a movement, and then rapidly, as the movement captures the general imagination.

Tackling climate change has so many facets that there’s something for everyone to do. There are little things you can do in your home or meeting and bigger things that we can all work on together! Saving energy is best, because even renewable sources have “carbon footprints.” About ten years ago, Patricia Finley and Margaret Mansfield joined other Friends in Philadelphia Yearly Meeting (PhYM) in establishing “Friendly Households.” The focus was not just changing from incandescent to LED light bulbs but insulating our homes, switching to Energy Star energy-efficient appliances, and being mindful about transportation by walking, biking, and using more public transit. The program urged flying only when absolutely necessary, reducing waste streams through composting and recycling, and trying to implement a circular economy at least on a local scale. Individual Friends made commitments to undertake some of these goals and sharing what works. By repairing appliances and clothing, for example, fewer of our household goods go into the waste stream.

Members of Quaker Action in the Mid-Atlantic Region joined Pennsylvania elected officials and citizen advocates at a rally in support of RGGI in Love Park, Philadelphia, Pa., November 2022. Photo via Clean Power PA Coalition.

To reduce the carbon footprint of our homes, meetings, schools, and businesses, Liz Robinson has been working for more than 40 years on public energy policy, most recently increasing and democratizing access to solar power. Solar for schools and communities, and renewable energy policy have all kept Liz involved and hopeful. Because much of the change needed requires legislative and executive action, Liz has joined with Patricia Finley, Bruce Birchard, and myself to launch a 501(c)(4) to allow us to effectively raise funds to lobby for action on climate change and other issues of concern to Friends. Quaker Action Mid-Atlantic Region (quakeract.org) joins several other “mini FCNLs” (Friends Committee on National Legislation) across the country that are focused in a specific region. So far over 300 people have joined Quaker Action to advocate for climate action more effectively in Pennsylvania, New Jersey, and Delaware. One of our recent action alerts advocates for moving Pennsylvania from 8 percent renewable electricity to 30 percent by 2030.

But change doesn’t happen all at once. It happens little by little, as actions grow into a movement, and then rapidly, as the movement captures the general imagination.

Eileen Flanagan joined the Earth Quaker Action Team (EQAT) in 2011 after seeing their demonstration at the Philadelphia Flower Show. Over the years, she has authored several books and served in several leadership roles, taking on PNC Bank to end coal mining by mountain-top removal and more recently to pressure Vanguard, the world’s largest investor in fossil fuels. This goes to the heart of how corporate greed drives climate change. Such greed embodies spiritual hunger, but the droughts, storms, and climate related conflict driven by fossil fuel emissions cause literal hunger. By mobilizing Quakers and others into focused nonviolent direct action, EQAT highlights a selected part of a system that is out of alignment. Eileen has found joy, fulfillment, and empowerment through her work in EQAT, partly through friendship and community and partly from a sense that our work really is addressing “the world’s deep hunger.” She is now taking a break from her leadership activities to write her next book, titled Common Ground, which is due out this summer.

Ed Dreby, Pamela Haines, and I have been speaking and writing about the way our growth economy—seeking to constantly increase gross domestic product to keep shareholders happy—contributes to climate change and the way Friends’ relationship to money is part of that. In this work, we’ve been supported by Quaker Institute for the Future, among other organizations. As Friends who aspire to live with integrity, we should acknowledge that money is not just a medium of exchange but is also a tool of oppression. In our global economy today, money is generated from debt that earns interest, extracting a share of each borrower’s productivity as profit for the lenders. Productivity and economic growth have increased dramatically in the last half century, but very little of that is seen in increased income for ordinary people, who struggle increasingly just to make ends meet. Instead, it is used to pay the interest, thereby fueling the rise of the billionaire class and overshooting planetary limits in the process. We need to move toward a circular economy which doesn’t grow—at least materially—any more than is necessary so that all life on this planet can flourish. Such a shift would upset the status quo in the same way that Jesus did when he expelled the money lenders from the temple.

Meanwhile, other Friends are hard at work on the justice aspect. Friend O calls on us to recognize that community is the ecosystem. How we tend to the community is how we tend to the ecosystem, and if we destroy the ecosystem, then we will be annihilated. She invokes the image of the ecosystem as a womb in which cell-to-cell communication, sharing of resources, and recognizing our “inseparable oneness” are essential. If we took our cue from the law of the womb, we would be implementing the patterns of life, but instead, we are employing the patterns of the predator: taking what we want and, as much as possible, avoiding the consequences. O says people must recognize that “we are all alchemists, but rather than changing lead into gold, we need to change fear into love,” something we really can do especially if we do it together! O’s work extends outward from climate in many directions, including difficult conversations about trauma and reparations. She helps to expose violence toward people and toward the Earth—violence that was normalized and unseen—through touching and feeling it, so we can heal together as a community.

Earth Quaker Action Team (EQAT) organized a rally, march, and prayer vigil calling on Vanguard Group to divest from fossil fuel companies that refuse to transition their businesses to be in alignment with no more than 1.5 degree Celsius global temperature rise. July 3, 2024. Photo by Crystal Gloistein.

Although it had several earlier incarnations, the Eco-Justice Collaborative (EJC) of PhYM was formed to bring together all of these different areas of economic and ecological justice work. The group has been clerked for the past 12 years by Ruth Darlington and Patricia Finley, who was inspired by Carson’s Silent Spring, Ehrlich’s Population Bomb, and by the work of Margaret Mansfield and Ed Dreby. Pat’s own work has focused on bringing Friends together in a sustained community to address eco-justice: from carbon footprint reduction to policy advocacy. It is through spiritually grounded community building that movements can grow and be sustained. She finds hope in spreading a message of reverence for creation and love for our neighbors, attending to antiracism, equity, and mercy.

What does that future look like? Can you see it? I see more sharing, more cooperation, more compassion, and more engagement to be essential parts of that vision, and above all, I see hope. What do you see?

Bruce Birchard notes the continued resistance to climate action from political, financial, business, and some labor leaders, and he finds it tragic. But giving up is not an option. As highly privileged people living in a rich and powerful nation, we may survive for some decades the consequences of the climate crisis. Yet we, more than anyone else, bear the most responsibility. To give up means consigning the poorest and least powerful in our global family to suffering and sometimes death from the most disastrous impacts of a rapidly warming planet Earth. To stay engaged, Bruce recharges frequently by spending time with his grandchildren and getting out into nature.

Climate change and climate conflict may necessitate the relocation of between 20 and 30 percent of the world’s population over the next century. Given that we are in large part to blame, will we welcome them as the Bible instructs (Lev. 19:33–34), or will we build walls and barriers to keep them away? Resettlement work is going to be an increasing part of living our witness, as more and more people flee climate catastrophe and the violent conflicts caused by it.

We really are in the midst of a long emergency, and we need to take a long view to address it. Jackie Bonomo finds that emphasizing community, equality, and peace, and living into those values with integrity is the best way to reach people. Young people see the tsunami of problems caused by climate inaction, and they raise good trouble— speaking truth to power—which she finds hopeful. Our species is characterized by great adaptability—finding liveable habitat from the tropics to the arctic—but we have only been around for an eyeblink in the scheme of evolution. In all of our three-hundred-thousand-year history as Homo sapiens, we’ve adapted to ice ages and heat waves, but the climate has never changed this much this fast. Adaptation doesn’t mean cranking up the AC; we only survive if the complex web of life that supports us survives. In The Story of the Human Body, author Daniel E. Lieberman notes that our adaptive success is inextricably entwined with our unique ability to communicate, share a vision, and cooperate in bringing it about. Hope comes from accepting the present and envisioning a brighter future. It is, to some extent, self-fulfilling. It certainly has been a consuming activity for me.

I’ve accepted the idea that the problem may not be “fixed” within my lifetime, and perhaps not in yours, but it’s essential for us to imagine a new story about the way it can be turned around in time for today’s grandchildren and their grandchildren to have a liveable world where they can still be happy. What does that future look like? Can you see it? I see more sharing, more cooperation, more compassion, and more engagement to be essential parts of that vision, and above all, I see hope. What do you see?

The post Addressing the Long Emergency appeared first on Friends Journal.