Friends Journal

A Kenyan Ministry Experience

In the 1920s, a woman named Martiat Kebebe in the Kenyan village of Bukuga became so ill that those around her expected her to die. When information reached missionary Emory Rees at the Vihiga Friends Mission around two miles away, he went to Kebebe’s home and prayed for her. After two days, she was back to life with a revelation song, which she sang repeatedly. Rees became so interested in the song’s lyrics that he included it in the Luhya-language hymnal Tsinyimbu Tsya Nyasaye. Titled “Yesu Mwami Wange” (Jesus My Lord), it is one of the very few hymns written from an African viewpoint.

I heard this story from pastor emeritus Joash Ambale of Chavakali Yearly Meeting. It is insightful testimony about healing and prayer.

While on mission work in Serengeti, Tanzania, in 2012, Daniel M’masi and I received inspiring testimony about healing ministry from Paul Mtatiro, the former presiding clerk of Tanzania Yearly Meeting. He testified that while on their visit to Mwanza, one lady came and begged them to visit her house and pray for her sick girl. The girl had been bedridden for three years. During this time, the family had spent a lot to make her well. The parents had taken the girl to many specialists, prominent servants of God in Tanzania, and even to magicians, but there was no positive response. When Mtatiro’s group visited the girl’s home, they found Pentecostal Christians who ridiculed them, saying that God would never listen to the prayers of quiet people like the Quakers. Mtatiro took hold of the girl’s hand, and they remained silent for a long while before concluding with prayer. They assured the family that the girl was going to be healed in Jesus’s name. Surprisingly the following day the girl was able to walk; glory and honor was directed to the Lord.

These two examples connect the underlying truth about experience of healing and prayer among the East African Friends. This gift of healing and prayer is not new to African Friends. Healing ministry has been with Friends since the time of George Fox, who is said to have performed many miracles to the glory of God. In 1964, Edmund Goerke, a Friend from New Jersey, wrote an essay about the miracles that Fox performed (it’s reprinted on Quakerinfo.com), excerpting passages from Fox’s writings. While visiting the Carolinas in 1672, Fox recounted:

And many people of the world did receive us gladly and they came to us at one Nathaniel Batts, formerly governor of Roanoke, who goeth by the name of Captain Batts; who hath been a rude desperate man. He came to us and said that a captain told him that in Cumberland, George Fox bid one of his friends to go to a woman that had been sick a long time, and all the physicians had left her, and could not heal her. And George Fox bid his friend to lay his hands upon her and pray for her, and that George Fox’s friend did go to the woman, and did as he bade him, and the woman was healed at that time. And thus Captain Batts told me, and spread it up and down the country among the people. And he asked of it, and I said many things had been done by the power of Christ.

Healing and prayer play a central role in establishing faith in Christ.

Our Lord Jesus Christ embraced healing as part of his ministry, and so did the apostles. Healing brought joy and hope to the believers. In the book of Matthew 4:23–25, as Jesus went about in Galilee preaching and teaching, he also healed all sorts of sickness. In Matthew 8:14–17, when Jesus entered the house of Peter, he found Peter’s mother-in-law lying down sick; he laid his hand on her and prayed, and she was healed immediately. In the book of Acts of Apostles 8:4–8, Philip preached in Samaria where unclean spirits were cast out from many, and the paralyzed and the lame were healed. There are so many incidents of healing that took place during the time of Jesus and the apostles. The blind were able to see; the lame were able to walk; the sick were healed of various ailments; and many more. In the same manner, God is using his servants to heal many who are in need. This is what is taking place among East African Friends.

Sabatia Eye Hospital in Vihiga County, Kenya, was founded in 1996 through the efforts of the local community, including the Friends Church. Photo by Samuel Tsimbwela. Commercial Healing in Africa

In Kenya, many of the prosperity gospel ministers have made healing ministry the source of personal power, and commercialized it. People’s daily lives are full of accounts of the blind receiving sight, the lame walking, the mute speaking, and even the dead being risen back to life by bishops, apostles, or prophets. Many who are weak in the spirit seek those servants who make claims of healing. Many of those who claim to heal use it as a money-making business, requiring consultation fees for their services and payments for the miracles performed. This situation has led to the rise of many televangelists whose aim is to be rich at the expense of the weak in spirit.

The issue of magicians is a well-known phenomenon in Africa. Magicians are believed to give solutions to the immediate problems of humanity. Those who feel hopeless turn to the magicians for help, as do those so ill that doctors say they can no longer be helped by medical care. Getting magicians’ help is not that easy, as they demand a lot in return for healing; if their demands are not met, the healing process will not be completed. As you walk on the streets, you are greeted with placards written with mganga (“healer”) and a town name and phone contact. Many professing Christians turn to these magicians when they feel they are not receiving help from the religious and medical fields.

I have been reflecting on how healing and prayer ministry is experienced among Quakers in East Africa. The Friends Church is not generally known for encompassing the charismatic healing gifts, yet the gift has been there and is here with us. 

The Prayer Ministry of Kenyan Friends

The book of Acts of the Apostles 19:11–23 tells of God’s use of the apostle Paul to perform miracles so that the sick were healed, the evil spirits were cast out, and the magicians were able to surrender their lives to God.

Kenyan Quakers acknowledge the importance of healing and prayer ministry; it is a gift from God that needs to be used in accordance to the leading of the Spirit. The example of Emory Rees being used by God to heal Marita Kebebe is a manifestation of God’s presence to his people: God used His own way to bring hope to the hopeless. The fame and the spread of the Word was the result of Friends’ ability to perform miracles through God’s Spirit.

This phenomenon is still going on at present, although it seems to be not as active. Many Kenyan Friends don’t really anticipate the ministry of healing, and they don’t feel it is to the glory of God to parade a humanly manifested gift, as do the Pentecostals and those in charismatic movements.

When a Friend is sick, either at home or hospitalized, Quakers from the meeting visit their home, offering prayers and encouragement to the family. If one is hospitalized, others visit the hospital and pray with the sick person and offer encouragement and hope. The pastor and the clerk of the meeting are the first to visit and offer support to the sick and their family. Through such visits, many healings are witnessed.

During worship services on Sundays, there is a time for testimonies and prayer requests. Among Friends of Tanzania, the worship service includes a time for reporting on the whereabouts of Friends who are not attending the worship service. During this session, those Friends who have sick relatives at home or in hospitals let the church know. Prayers led by the pastor for the sick are given, and miraculously many are healed though they are away from the pulpit. One of the motivational writings at Friends Sabatia Eye Hospital in Vihiga County is this: “We treat; He heals.” This brief statement shows the medical caregivers trust in the Lord, that He is the healer, more than human professionalism. It is a connection to the Spirit and an acknowledgement of the miraculous workings of God. Many who read this statement as they enter the hospital come out of the hospital believing they have been healed by God’s glory.

I have been reflecting on how healing and prayer ministry is experienced among Quakers in East Africa. The Friends Church is not generally known for encompassing the charismatic healing gifts, yet the gift has been there and is here with us. Many are surprised to learn that George Fox performed miracles and healed many. Healing and prayer is directed by the Spirit and not by humans, as many professing Christians believe.

The post We Treat, He Heals appeared first on Friends Journal.

Discovering the Healing Spirit of Christ

It was not always this way for me: of health, vigor, and being free of illness. From infancy, illness was a part of my life. Until I was a teenager, there were weekly trips over the bridge to Philadelphia to receive allergy shots. There were many bouts with bronchitis, otitis, and tonsillitis. It was accepted that this was “the way it is.”

Praying for recovery or for diminishment of allergies and illnesses was not on my radar. I enjoyed singing and created songs that blessed anyone I had heard about who was suffering.

I prayed for my dad to get better and not die. He suffered from a brain tumor. At the time, we did not know it was the unspoken word “cancer.” He lived another eight years in torment from pain, nausea, vomiting, double vision, and several craniotomies. Looking back, it was all useless: metastases were taking over his brain.

My father lived long enough to know that I had graduated from high school. Now I was the head of the household who took care of my grieving mother. I worked part-time and stayed home with Mom on the other days.

Some of the girls from our town kept calling to get me to drive them to a bar where they danced for free: no drinking, just dancing. I did not want to go; I was depressed after losing my father. After several calls from friends, I gave in. I enjoyed dancing, especially in a bar where the age limit was 21.

It was fun and I drove my friends several times. Then one of the employees at the bar asked if I would like to take a motorcycle ride. It was late and cold, but I went for it. The man who asked me was ten years older than me. He had ideas about life that were far and away unknown to me. He had been married before, he said. The red flags were waving, and yet, my need for attention exceeded the signs. I began seeing him.

In a few months, I became pregnant, and a few months after that, we married. Our first child, a little boy, died at birth. I was too ill to attend his buriaI and slipped into a deep depression. I stopped going to church, and did not talk to anyone.

For the next ten years, I filled my life with being a good mother, homemaker, and volunteer at the children’s school. Two children and housekeeping kept me busy. I lost my faith.

I had yet to meet any of my in-laws. So I saved enough for a family trip to Denver, Colorado, in August. We planned to stay with my sister-in-law and her family. They were not religious in any way. They were farming folks from the Midwest, and we fit right in.

A couple of days into our visit, it was announced we would be going camping in the Rockies. August was the hottest month, yet we needed winter clothes! It could drop down below freezing in the mountains in August. We would be at least 8,000 feet up! We went to the local thrift shop and bought warm winter wear for our adventure.

That evening after dinner, we piled into a pickup with a camper and headed to Estes Park. We slept in the back of the pickup with the tailgate open and looked up at the meteors that were dancing across the dark night sky.

We awoke to a clear, blue sky and hummingbirds buzzing around our heads. Breakfast was enjoyed at a picnic table with a view of granite mountains rising up into the sky. After we ate, we packed up and drove to the park.

There was a place where we could climb up to Hanging Lake. The path was just a mile and a half long and practically straight up the side of the mountain. All of us began to climb the rocky path. We came to a cool, clear stream and took a sip from it. It began snowing, and we were glad we had winter coats. We resumed our climb; it was very steep. Finally, there it was: Hanging Lake. Looking around we realized we were above the treeline.

It was completely still. The lake was in a low-lying area. It was shallow and clear with some moss at the rim. There was a reflection of the clear, blue sky in the water. Now we were on a more level area.

Now my soul knows the Great Spirit is everywhere. What a feeling it is: as if I had a big secret! I kept it in my heart.

A Voice in the Wilderness

We broke up into small groups. I was alone and walked slowly to the edge of the mountain to see what I could. Deep-green pines grew on the side of the mountain. Then—wham—I felt a big thump straight into my chest! What was that? In the next moment, a voice spoke: “I am here.” I took a deep breath and realized it was God. It had to be. This experience cracked my heart open. Then all was still again. Looking around, I was still alone. I started to look for my family. They had been off exploring, and now they were ready to climb back down. I joined them, and we began our descent. There was no mention by anyone of an experience similar to mine.

I kept the revelation to myself. Now my soul knows the Great Spirit is everywhere. What a feeling it is: as if I had a big secret! I kept it in my heart.

Where to Take My Secret?

This simple act of recognizing the Spirit of Christ (or the Great Spirit) filled my thoughts. This was a challenging task to process. What was the answer? Returning to a church was the last thing I wanted.

Perhaps my step-father, a weighty Friend, could help. He lived a life that exemplified his beliefs. He was kind, funny, generous, and a leader in the community. He loved my mother, and they enjoyed traveling and socializing. Calling my mother was the next step.

A few days later I was given the name of a meeting close by. I called, and a member of the meeting called a few days later. She told me about another meeting that had Sunday school for children. It felt right that my daughters could benefit from this way of life. Another call and a friendly woman explained the Sunday school would begin after school started. This October will come soon enough. Perhaps going to their service a week before would give me a feel for what to expect.

I had so much to think about. What a wonderful feeling! No minister telling me how to pray, what to think, or how to act. My spirit was being nurtured and fed in a way that began to mend the hole in my soul.

Testing the Experience

Finally the time arrived. The meetinghouse was off of the main street, and there was a private school across the driveway. I began to walk up the old brick porch to enter the open door, and a man stopped me and asked me where I was going. He introduced himself and invited me to the pancake breakfast. It was being held in the school cafeteria. We walked across the drive and into the brick building. I found a seat, sat down, and enjoyed pancakes. Other parents were there and introduced themselves. We exchanged information about our children.

Meeting for worship began at 11:00 a.m. I had arrived in time to join the early 9:00 a.m. worship, which was intended for families with children. It lasted 30 minutes.

I finally entered the meetinghouse. The benches were filling up. A person called “the greeter” directed me to an empty bench in the rear area. The room was so still. No one was whispering to their neighbor.

I sat down alone on the bench. Suddenly, a soft, orange light surrounded me, and I heard the familiar voice I had heard in the Rocky Mountains: “Welcome home.” Did anyone else hear that voice? I felt warm and secure. I sat in the silence and closed my eyes. After a while, a woman stood and spoke; then she sat down. Time passed, and then a man stood up, spoke, and sat back down. Time passed. Then a man turned to his neighbor and offered his hand, which she shook. Had it been an hour already? No clock was available. People were smiling and everyone was saying “good morning” to their neighbor. Finally, a person in the front of the room asked if there were any visitors. I stood and gave my name.

Anxious to get home, I got in my car and departed. I had so much to think about. What a wonderful feeling! No minister telling me how to pray, what to think, or how to act. My spirit was being nurtured and fed in a way that began to mend the hole in my soul.

My children and I began attending weekly Sunday school and worship. I was making friends and learning the practices of Friends. There was so much to learn: Advices, Faith and Practice, unprogrammed vs. programmed meetings.

After the experience of living with my dad and watching him slowly die, all the while without complaint, while the rest of the family carried on in denial, I vowed to change my lifestyle. Losing weight was my top priority, next was to quit smoking and begin a yoga practice. I went to night county college to learn about nutrition and chemistry. Someone suggested I would make a good nurse. A family in my meeting invited me to have dinner with them to speak to their daughter, a recent nursing graduate from the county college. It was very informative and inspiring. I decided to do it! I enrolled; received a scholarship; and two years later, I earned my degree and a nursing license.

After a break in the summer to be with my daughters, I began working in a hospital. It was challenging, and I liked it. My supervisor knew of my dedication to a natural lifestyle. She shared a course coming up at a holistic center on healing. A nurse who was a student of the founder of this practice was teaching the course. I was ready to learn a method that was drug-free and created by a nurse. I enrolled.

The healing practice is called therapeutic touch. I left the center knowing I had found the answer to my quest. I talked to my supervisor about practicing it on the unit and was told not now. Then I proposed it to the sister who was beginning to offer tai chi classes in the Catholic hospital. Not yet, I was told. (Ironically, 20 years later, the same hospital opened a holistic practice and school.)

What is the best way of healing to serve the world and all its inhabitants? I am open to the still, small voice that guides me. Healing can begin in our hearts and minds if we intend. 

Healing Christ

I heard that George Fox had performed healings. George, our founder, believed in the restorative power of Christ. I began to focus on this and how it fit into my life and belief system. The healing energy of Jesus Christ can be used today in all healing work. In my practice, I ask Christ, the Healer, to assist me in this healing.

At Friends General Conference’s annual Gathering, there is a healing group that practices healing arts. They offer their services to anyone who is led to come and get a healing session. My husband is also a holistic practitioner. He and I participated in these healing groups with great results for the people we’ve worked with.

A healing support group was formed at our local meeting. Several other healing support groups have begun since attending one of our healings. There is a meeting for healing held monthly on Zoom. As our aging population prefers to stay home, Zoom seems to answer the need for connection.

What is the best way of healing to serve the world and all its inhabitants? I am open to the still, small voice that guides me. Healing can begin in our hearts and minds if we intend. Also, to paraphrase George Fox, let us walk peacefully on the earth answering that of the Great Spirit in all we meet.

The post Welcome Home appeared first on Friends Journal.

Reflections on the Practice of Holding in the Light

In recent years, many meetings have begun offering a time for those present to name others they would like to “hold in the Light.” This is usually done toward the end of or following worship. When the practice first began, I was a little annoyed by this term: its meaning seemed ambiguous, and it felt like another example of Friends having our own jargon for what others practiced by a different name. I was glad, however, that Friends were being given a chance to name publicly their deepest concerns and needs, and that Friends in theologically diverse meetings, like mine, had found a way to join together in what I consider communal intercessory prayer.

I have since had a shift in my thinking. I now wonder whether the undefined meaning of this practice is actually a gift. It helps avoid serious problems with intercessory prayer as it is often practiced and can free us from expectations and limitations that may inhibit the rich potential shared, focused prayer can bring to Friends.

We Are Not Alone

Over the centuries, countless Jews, Christians, and Muslims have been comforted by the words of the psalmist: “Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for Thou art with me. Thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.” We are not alone as we face the many challenges of living, even the great separation we call “death.” Prayer, alone or with others, enables us to experience in our bodies and our hearts the love of God and the love of others. This is transformative. It enables us to overcome depression, despair, and loss of hope. Any practice in our meetings that gives us a sense of accompaniment, whether divine or human, in facing such challenges is a gift beyond measure.

For our first 150 years, Friends had a practice of writing down the words of dying Friends. (Until recently this was how most Friends understood the term “testimony.”) These were collected and published in a series of volumes called Piety Promoted. A number of these statements can be read in the Pendle Hill pamphlet A Song of Death, Our Spiritual Birth: A Quaker Way of Dying by Lucy Screechfield McIver. They convey these Friends’ sense of peace, and even freedom, as they approached death: springing, I think, from their feeling of being held in love.

When we hold someone in the Light, we are asking God to be with them and with us in our caring for them. We are asking God to help our love reach those we are praying for. God can and does respond to prayers of this kind. I don’t know whether offering such prayers changes God, but such prayers change me. This is very different from asking God—or the universe—for a specific outcome.

When We Love Others, We Dwell in God

What do we mean when we ask others “to hold” someone or a situation “in the Light?” If you asked first Friends what this means, they would probably cite the opening chapter of the Gospel of John, which describes the Light as Christ—“the light of all people” (1:4), “the true light, which enlightens everyone” (1:9), that gives us the capacity “to become children of God” (1:12). In John 8:12, Jesus calls himself “the light of the world.” Early Friends saw Christ as present from the beginning of time, working in the world long before and after Christ’s entry into human history through Jesus’s teaching, healing, and faithfulness unto death. Many Friends then and now use the word “Christ” to refer to this ongoing work of Spirit in human hearts and communities of faith.

The First Epistle of John is mainly about love. “No one has ever seen God; but if we love one another, God lives in us and his love is made complete in us” (1 John 4:12). When we pray for each other, we help each other experience and receive God’s love in its fullness. When we invite Friends to name our own or others’ needs to each other and hold those needs in our hearts, we open ourselves, and them, to the transformative power of God’s ever-present love for us all. I believe this is true whether or not the person being held in love believes in a Higher Power or interprets that love as having anything to do with religion.

What Is Prayer?

I think many Friends feel unable to pray because of uncertainty about what prayer is. Many think of prayer as talking to God or asking for specific things. I do talk to God and ask for results at times, but I’m not really sure what happens when I pray in that way. If I believe, as I do, that God knows everything about me, why name my needs to God? I believe this is because somehow God needs me to name my deepest needs in this way.

There are serious problems, however, with asking God for a specific outcome that we desire or feel we need. If we ask God for something specific and our prayer is not answered, does that mean we or those we pray for or even God have somehow failed or done something wrong? Many Jews have written about struggling with continuing to believe in a God who “allowed” the Holocaust to happen. I’ve had friends in other churches tell me that when many people have prayed for someone to heal from a life-threatening illness and the person died anyway, the suggestion often made is that either people didn’t pray hard enough or that the person being prayed for was not living in harmony with God.

When we hold someone in the Light, we are asking God to be with them and with us in our caring for them. We are asking God to help our love reach those we are praying for. God can and does respond to prayers of this kind. I don’t know whether offering such prayers changes God, but such prayers change me. This is very different from asking God—or the universe—for a specific outcome.

I have never been able to believe that God chooses to let children die or be abused for mysterious reasons unknown to us. The UK Quaker astronomer Jocelyn Bell Burnell, in her plenary talk at the 2000 Friends General Conference Gathering, described her evolving belief about God. When she decided she was unable as a scientist to believe in a God who was both omnipotent and all-loving, she chose to believe that God is all-loving but does not have the capacity to control all things that happen. Hearing her, I felt led to the same choice.

Photos by Elianna Gill on Unsplash There Are No Limits to the Power of Love

If we cannot count on love resulting in a healing outcome, neither should we preclude that possibility. The gospels are full of stories about healing from blindness, lameness, and physical illness. Others describe casting out devils, which we today may view as healing from severe mental illness. There are many similar accounts of miraculous healings by George Fox and other early Friends.

These accounts often focus on an individual with great spiritual power and healing gifts. In recent years, there has been a renewed interest in healing among Friends but with the emphasis shifting to healing through communal prayer. A more focused kind of communal prayer happens when Friends gather specifically to do this work. Some Friends are holding meetings for healing where one or more are held in additional extended prayer around specific needs or hopes. Communal healing prayer also happens when we settle into worship during a meeting for business if we are in disunity or see a rift rising within the body of our faith community.

Whether the healing we hope for happens or not (at least in the time frame or in the form that we hoped for) is a deep mystery that we cannot fully understand and certainly cannot predict. This is true whether our longing is for the survival of a deeply ill friend or the end of a brutal war. Whatever happens we are held in God’s loving hands.

Prayer Can Be a Way to Give up Control

As our prayers for others entrust them into God’s hands, these prayers can also change how we relate to those we pray for. As a straight, White male from a privileged background, I was raised to have an answer to every question and a solution to every problem, even those not mine to fix. For example, as a child growing up in a Quaker meeting in the 1950s, I was terrified of the danger of nuclear holocaust, wondering if I would even reach adulthood. Even as a child, I felt personally responsible for preventing the destruction of the earth.

One of the hardest and most misguided “projects” I ever took on was trying to save my father from dying of prostate cancer. When he died, I blamed myself for failing this self-assigned task—and blamed him for not making the changes I’d urged him to make to survive. I lost the opportunity to spend the last years of his life simply loving him and being present with him in his spiritual struggles as he approached death.

I know many Quakers who appear to feel a similar, if less severe, pull to overfunctioning and caretaking. Entrusting each other to God’s love is an important way to slow down, breathe, and do what Spirit is really giving us to do, rather than what our anxieties and addictions pressure us to take on.

My addiction to control harms my relationship with those I work with and love. Al-Anon has helped me recognize and begin shedding my addictive pull to control others and fix problems. In 12-step groups, we help each other learn what is our work and what is not. We learn to “Let go and let God.” I am still learning and working on letting go.

Communal Prayer Opens Us to Receive Others’ Love

It takes trust to receive others’ love, including God’s. If we have been hurt badly or let down or abused, especially in childhood, it’s hard to trust others enough to let their love reach us. It can also make it hard to believe in a loving God or open our hearts to receiving God’s love, but it is worth the risk. The more love we receive across our lifespan, the easier it becomes to trust each other and the universe enough to continue letting love in. As we name our needs to each other, we increase our capacity both to give and receive each other’s love. As we experience others in the meeting praying for us and holding us in love, it builds trust within our faith family. I believe that we increase others’ capacity to receive healing love, even when they do not know we are praying for them.

As we name our needs to each other, we increase our capacity both to give and receive each other’s love. As we experience others in the meeting praying for us and holding us in love, it builds trust within our faith family. I believe that we increase others’ capacity to receive healing love, even when they do not know we are praying for them.

Can We Trust Each Other Enough to Know Each Other More Deeply?

It also takes trust and the capacity for vulnerability to allow others to see the wounds and needs we all bear to a lesser or greater degree, and to ask for others’ love and support. As a faith community, we cannot hold each other in love around specific wounds and needs if we do not know each other and the specific places where each needs help. If we are unable to name our needs and wounds to each other and to God, we cut ourselves off from the full transformative power of love.

How can we make our meetings into the kind of faith family where we trust each other enough to do this? Naming our needs to each other as a meeting opens our capacity to be vulnerable and grow closer. As we experience the meeting holding what we know about each other in tenderness and compassion, trust will grow.

In the past, specific needs and wounds were often known only to an assigned committee or individuals in our meetings. Pastoral care is usually done in secret to respect the privacy of those needing support. Confidentiality (which derives from ethical and legal concepts) is not, however, always the best approach in a faith community. We need to be careful of each other’s trust but also need to balance the need for confidentiality against the benefits of openness, transparency, and mutual knowledge among us as we seek to dwell together in love and trust.

All Are Equally Deserving of Love

Shame is a powerful barrier to sharing our broken places with each other. Friends are more likely to feel comfortable sharing—and receiving others’ requests—around physical illness or losses than issues of addictions, mental health, sexuality, or marital breakdown. Can the meeting hold in love all kinds of hurt, even those that make us uncomfortable or that “the world” says are too embarrassing to talk about?

I have been fortunate to be part of two Quaker men’s groups, each of which ran for many years. We have shared things there that we could not share with the meeting. Even in these groups, there were issues I and others have felt unable to share about. One member killed himself soon after a meeting of one of these groups. We wondered if we could have been a safer container for him to trust us to hold him in love around the enormous pain he was carrying at that time, even while we tried not to blame ourselves for another person’s decision.

God makes no distinction between those wounds and needs that deserve love and support and those that do not. The world’s definitions of shame and propriety lie to us when they tell us we are undeserving of others’ love because of the types of wounds we are bearing.

Praying with Each Other for the Healing of the World

In her song “Turning of the World,” Ruth Pelham writes: “Let us sing this song for the healing of the world / That we may heal as one. / With every voice, with every song, we will move this world along, / And our lives will feel the echo of our healing.”

Although most holding-in-the-Light requests in my meeting deal with personal situations, Friends also make requests about situations in the wider world. One faithful Friend in my meeting asks us each week to hold “Our Mother Earth in the Light.” During the Trump presidency, she also asked us each Sunday to hold Donald Trump in the Light. Although Friends in some periods seemed to withdraw from the world’s troubles outside our own faith community, we have always to some degree carried a concern to alleviate suffering wherever it occurs.

On a frigid November day in 1960 on the 300th anniversary of the Declaration to King Charles II (“We utterly deny all outward wars and strife . . .”), I joined a thousand Friends in silent vigil around the mile-long perimeter of the Pentagon. Together we held that war building and the world in prayer for peace. Our prayers did not prevent the Cuban Missile Crisis, the massacres and deaths of the Vietnam War, or the many times the United States has used arms to police the world since then, but we cannot know what good may have come from that long day of prayer for world healing.

My meeting recently held two specially called meetings for worship to pray together for peace in Palestine and Israel. Each week, meeting members join others in an interfaith vigil for peace and justice in the center of town. Such public prayers keep our own hope and resilience strong, and spread that hope to others who see us praying publicly in this way. Prayer for the world also opens our hearts to hear God’s voice calling us to new ways to be faithful in our work of alleviating the great wrongs facing our country and world.

We are all held. Years ago, I encountered a thin volume titled Dreaming Is Now by the late Quaker poet Winifred Rawlins, which was published in 1963, the year of the Cuban Missile Crisis when the world tottered on the brink of nuclear extinction and the year President John F. Kennedy was assassinated. I was especially struck by the closing lines of her poem “Are We Held?”: “And are we / held, and cannot fall / Through holes within the web of love?”

There is much that I do not know, but my life is built around my belief and experience that all of us, the earth itself, and this great universe we are part of are held in a great mystery that is love. May Friends continue to find fresh ways to lift up each other’s needs and those of the world to God and to that web of love.

Further Resources:

• Lucy Screechfield McIver. A Song of Death, Our Spiritual Birth : A Quaker Way of Dying (Pendle Hill Pamphlet #340)
• Marcelle Martin. Holding One Another in the Light (Pendle Hill Pamphlet #382).
• George Fox’s ‘Book of Miracles’, ed. by Henry Cadbury with forewards by Rufus Jones, Jim Pym, and Paul Anderson.
• Johanna Jackson. “Supporting Recovery among Friends” in January 2020 issue of Friends Journal.
• “Closing Minute from QuakerSpring 2011” (on vulnerability and trust within a meeting).
• “Queries on Confidentiality & Openness.”
• The Language of Faces, 1961 documentary film on the 1960 Pentagon Quaker vigil by John Korty.
• Winifred Rawlins’s poem “Are We Held?” is found in Dreaming Is Now by Golden Quill Press, 1963.

FJ Quaker Author Chat:

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Prayer and Healing at the End of Life

Healing takes on a particular meaning when one thinks of it in relation to patients with terminal diagnoses. Prayer both fortifies those who accompany people facing imminent death and enables them to offer deep love to those with whom they work. Quakers with experience working as chaplains in hospitals or hospices as well as those who offer palliative care for dying patients shared their thoughts on prayer and healing with Friends Journal.

Prayers for healing coming from people who are facing death often seek connection with God and repair of broken relationships. Sometimes healing requires overcoming the tendency to hide the reality of patients’ quickly approaching death.

Retired hospice chaplain Mickey Edgerton recalled that the daughter of a terminally ill patient told Edgerton to hide the dire prognosis from the mother. When Edgerton went into the patient’s room, the mother said, “‘Close the door. My daughter doesn’t know I’m dying.” Each woman was crying over the impending death. Edgerton gained their trust and suggested that they cry together.

“They were able to love each other better,” said Edgerton, who is a member of Gwynedd (Pa.) Meeting and regularly worships virtually with First Friends Meeting in Richmond, Indiana.*

In earlier years, secrecy surrounded patients’ imminent deaths. Decades ago, many doctors did not believe in telling patients that they were dying, according to Geoffrey Knowlton, a former hospice chaplain and volunteer coordinator who now works as a psychotherapist and attends Yarmouth (Mass.) Meeting. As part of his hospice work, which he did about 30 years ago, Knowlton used to visit patients and find that doctors would instruct him not to let the patients know that they were dying.

As an undergraduate in 1976, Knowlton took a class in the psychology of death and dying in which he learned about the profound isolation people feel once they learn their demise is imminent. While working for the hospice, Knowlton was struck by how lonely people were who were dying of cancer. Many such patients said that once they received the diagnosis, everyone stopped talking to them. According to Knowlton, theories of why people responded that way include fear of saying the wrong thing and that the patient’s illness reminded healthy people of their own mortality. The loneliness of patients facing death drew Knowlton to accompany people in their last days.

“You know, to come to the end of your days alone. That just sounded awful to me, and I wanted to do what I could to make sure that didn’t happen,” Knowlton said.

Accompanying patients in their final days requires significant spiritual and emotional labor. Prayer helps Quaker hospice workers continue to support the dying. Spiritual care coordinator and hospice chaplain Lari Keeler takes in a lot emotionally at work, and if they hold onto it, it makes them sick. Prayer releases some of Keeler’s heart’s burdens. When starting to work with dying patients six years ago, Keeler realized they needed divine assistance to do hospice work.

“There’s no way that I’m going to be able to hold this by myself,” said Keeler, who works for Suncrest Hospice, which serves patients in Oakland, Berkeley, and Alameda, California.

Keeler, a member of Strawberry Creek Meeting in Berkeley, loves Quakerism’s openness to many paths of faith. They believe in receiving support from angels and ancestors. Their late grandfather was a Methodist minister from whom they currently request spiritual guidance.

Other Friends who have worked to ameliorate the suffering of patients, whom medical professionals did not expect to recover, used conversations with God to fortify themselves for the work. When she used to work in palliative care, Patti Nesbitt took a 25-minute walk with God every morning.

“It gave me a sense of wonderment and connection to the universe,” said Nesbitt, a member of Sandy Spring (Md.) Meeting who serves as clerk of Baltimore Yearly Meeting’s End of Life Working Group.

During the daily walks, she poured out any angst and sadness she was feeling. She cleared her mind and did yoga to open herself to patients. Nesbitt is in constant prayer throughout the day, often saying, “Dear God, help me here.”

Before entering the hospital room of a dying patient, Vonnie Lynn Calland prays for spiritual guidance. She does not know for sure whether there is a supernatural element at work when she prays. Lynn Calland is a certified hospital chaplain who works for Sentara Martha Jefferson Hospital in Charlottesville, Virginia. The bulk of her service involves supporting dying patients and comforting bereaved families.

“I pray all the time,” Lynn Calland said.

August Kalinosky, a hospice chaplain who works with late-stage dementia patients in Minnesota, draws personal strength from spiritual practices they would not classify as prayer.

“I pray a lot with patients, but I don’t tend to pray for myself,” Kalinosky said.

Kalinosky’s fortifying spiritual practices include silent waiting worship and participating in Rex Ambler’s Experiment with Light practice. Kalinosky draws inspiration from early Friends’ mystical experiences. Ambler categorized mystical experiences and created step by step meditations on them. Kalinosky is part of an Experiment with Light group of queer, neurodivergent millennials. They are a member of, and endorsed by, Bear Creek Meeting of Iowa Yearly Meeting (Conservative).

Such a state of spiritual connection is one way of defining healing. Many who work with the dying differentiate healing from curing: curing refers to physical recovery. A chaplain cannot bring about physical cures but can help patients attend to unfinished business.

Prayer helps keep up the emotional stamina and spiritual hope of Quakers who work with dying patients. In addition to supporting end-of-life workers, prayer comforts patients and their loved ones as they face their last days.

Keeler shared a story about a patient with throat cancer who was extremely angry and frustrated. The patient was Christian but disconnected from his faith. He asked if he would be forgiven for not being a good person. Keeler has a relationship with Christ and sees Christ as forgiving and empathetic; they also believe Jesus deeply understands the human experience. The patient mentioned feeling shame about not being able to better help his daughter who was blind and lived with schizophrenia. Keeler’s prayer for this patient helped connect him to divine love.

Keeler works with advanced dementia patients. Sitting and holding someone’s hand and holding them in the Light is an essential function of being a Quaker and being a chaplain. Such stillness and silence counters the frenetic pace of the medical system. Sometimes families of people with advanced dementia have a hard time sitting with loved ones because they miss the capacities their dear ones have lost. According to Keeler, part of the purpose of praying for patients with advanced dementia is to comfort family members and offer them peace.

Keeler’s style of prayer is still evolving. It centers on love and their own connection with God. To open oneself to receiving a message from God, one must align oneself with Spirit before praying, according to Keeler. People can sense when one is praying from a place of integrity.

“The most important thing is coming from your heart and being in your own spiritual alignment and letting God work through you,” Keeler said.

Photo by palidachan

Other Friends who pray with the dying also emphasize the importance of serving as vessels for God and avoiding self-aggrandizement. When Lynn Calland prays, she wants to speak sincerely: without acting or putting on airs. She asks God to fill in the gaps caused by her shortcomings, while “bending, yielding, and staying low” before the Divine.

Lynn Calland, who is a member of Charlottesville (Va.) Meeting, has been a Quaker steeped in the tradition of silent waiting worship since the age of seven. When she first started her chaplaincy training, she did not know how to pray aloud. She adapted to vocal prayer because she realized that chaplains have to be ready to support dying people from a variety of faith traditions.

Listening to the patient and their dear ones is a key part of praying for them, according to Lynn Calland. She encourages families to create a peaceful space for the dying patient and promotes a narrative of hope and agency for bereaved loved ones. In prayers, she expresses gratitude for the dying person’s gifts and gives voice to any hard feelings that might exist between that person and their loved ones. Prayer helps people cry and release their emotions, according to Lynn Calland. When she prays, she wants patients to feel the presence of God. She asks God to provide safety and care as well as to turn each hospital room into a sanctuary. When people are in a liminal space between life and death, they need a lot of spiritual protection.

“The last thing any of us need at that moment is for something malign to happen,” Lynn Calland said.

Prayer for people in the liminal space between life and death can be especially unpredictable. Letting go of expectations is an important part of a chaplain’s prayer, according to Judd Hu, a hospice chaplain who is a member of Redwood Forest Meeting in Santa Rosa, California. Chaplains pray to reflect and understand patients. Awkward pauses can happen during prayer, but chaplains can accept them because they seek to avoid being performative when they pray.

“Sometimes prayer can be very messy,” Hu said.

Based on his training, Hu turns to prayer and presence to create moments for patients that are evocative, companionable, comforting, and hopeful. Feeling hopeful can help facilitate self-transcendence. Patients often reconcile with loved ones from whom they had been estranged. They may also reconcile with the church, according to Hu.

In northern California, where Hu works, many patients describe themselves as spiritual but not religious. Some patients do not see themselves as connecting with God but rather connecting with greater meaning, healing, or nature, according to Hu. Obstacles to connection include ego and intellect. Hu encourages dying patients to experience a sense of connection.

“I also help people to figure out: what are you going to connect with at this moment?” Hu said.

Other hospice workers echo Hu’s belief that prayer brings dying people a sense of connectedness. Susan Greenler, who served as a spiritual care coordinator for hospice patients from 2013 to 2021, invites loved ones to join in prayer to bless the dying person. The surrounding dear ones say a message, such as “You will always be part of our hearts. Go in peace,” said Greenler, who is a member of Madison (Wis.) Meeting.

Energy and wisdom are the uplifting aspects of prayer, but Friends who serve the dying also open themselves to grief when they pray.

The practice of praying evolves over the course of end-of-life workers’ careers. Friends who work in the field find that their Quaker outlooks and traditions enrich their work. Geoffrey Knowlton says that prayers he prayed during his early days working at the hospice or during pauses in a visit were to ask God to help him help the person before him. The prayers evolved to become requests to help him listen to the dying person and learn from them. This type of prayer enabled him to become more “present and authentic.” Prayer functioned as a way to center on the presence of God. Knowlton attempted to nurture the patients’ own processing of emotions—depression, anger, or anxiety around death—without directing the processing. Prayer helps him foster these emotional developments.

Raised in the contemplative Quaker tradition of silent meeting, Knowlton appreciated sitting silently with dying people. One dying woman told him that silent accompaniment was more important to her than encouraging words.

“I appreciated the experiences and my sort of growing up in the Quaker tradition because I think I’m far more comfortable being quiet with people than others might be,” Knowlton said.

August Kalinosky believes that God is love and seeks to share that love when visiting patients who are nonverbal due to end-stage dementia. Kalinosky visualizes God’s love as Light enveloping patients. They also visualize a bubble of love emanating from them to the patient and from the patient to them. The visualizations remind them of the connection between them and God.

Such a state of spiritual connection is one way of defining healing. Many who work with the dying differentiate healing from curing: curing refers to physical recovery. A chaplain cannot bring about physical cures but can help patients attend to unfinished business and make post-death arrangements, according to Susan Greenler.

When contemplating healing for people with terminal illnesses, Greenler asks patients such questions as “Do you feel complete in your life?” and encourages hospice patients to heal broken relationships. She noted instances of dying patients finally having phone calls with their children after not having spoken to them in a long time.

“I look at healing as having a lot to do with love,” Greenler said.

For hospice patients, healing means accepting death, diminishing fears, and acknowledging the reality of their mortality, according to Mickey Edgerton. As a hospice chaplain, Edgerton facilitated healing by asking patients questions about their spiritual beliefs. When she was ministering to atheists, she would ask them what gets them through hard times and comforts them when they are grieving. She believes that Spirit works even through secular conversations.

“The basic energy and wisdom for it came through me, not from me,” said Edgerton, who worked for 25 years as a hospice chaplain before retiring at age 85. Edgerton worked for several agencies before completing her career with work at Foulkeways, a Quaker retirement community in Gwynedd, Pennsylvania, where she now lives.

Energy and wisdom are the uplifting aspects of prayer, but Friends who serve the dying also open themselves to grief when they pray. Because suffering is so scary, patients and chaplains alike can feel sad, vulnerable, and powerless, according to Judd Hu. At times when Hu has been deeply emotional and at a loss for words, practicing silent waiting has helped him a lot.

The Spirit is alive and moves in different ways, according to Vonnie Lynn Calland. Quaker practices such as quieting the self and listening carefully to dying people and the bereaved as well as to hospital staff are strengths Friends can bring to the work.

As a Quaker, Hu acknowledges the Inward Light of every person and sees Quaker chaplains as especially concerned with equality. Dying patients suffering mental health crises or those without homes may have trouble finding hospice placements, according to Hu. Drawing on Quakerism’s commitment to justice makes Hu sensitive to the “layers of injustice in hospice.”

Realizing that medical experiences can be steeped in fear and that love and fear are opposites, Patti Nesbitt hopes to help patients hold onto love. The Quaker practice of silent listening helps her do so. Nesbitt’s commitment to attend meeting has been a wellspring that has fed her work.

“The most important thing is to show up in worship even if you’re going through a dry period,” Nesbitt said.

* Correction: This article originally listed Mickey Edgerton as worshiping virtually at First Friends Meeting in Indianapolis, Indiana. She actually worships with First Friends in Richmond, Indiana.

The post Dear God, Help Me Here appeared first on Friends Journal.

Tapping into the Spiritual Resources of the Universe

My favorite quotation about prayer is from Meister Eckhart. He says: “If a man had no more to do with God than to be thankful, that would suffice.” 

So what is prayer? For me, prayer is a spiritual experience whereby we tap into the spiritual resources of the universe. Praying is a lifestyle choice. It is the way we live our lives, the way we work with others, and the way we think of others. In other words, it is the way we live. This is how I interpret the Scripture that says “pray without ceasing” (1 Thess. 5:17). I used to ask myself, How can you do that? But when you live a prayerful life, that is how it is accomplished.

When the thought of someone comes in my mind, while I am working or even washing dishes, that focus of energy on that particular person is my prayer. It could be a friend, a relative, or an acquaintance. At that point, I am focusing on raising my energy level to send positive and uplifting thoughts to and for that person.

I want to take you back to my childhood. I grew up in North Carolina in a small coastal town. My family was instrumental in the founding of one of the first Black churches, so I was literally brought up in the church. From the earliest time I can remember, each Wednesday night at 7 p.m., you would find my family in church for “prayer meeting.” That tradition continues today.

The meeting began with everyone singing a hymn, spiritual, or gospel song; and then sharing some experience; and ending with a prayer. Some people would sing a song that would reflect their prayer, like “This Little Light of Mine,” “We’ve Come This Far By Faith,” or “I Couldn’t Hear Nobody Pray.” My mother was the church pianist, and as soon as a person would begin the first note, she would accompany the song in the key the person was singing in. From the age of six, I can remember songs like “Amazing Grace” and “Swing Low, Sweet Chariot” being sung so often that they became a part of my life. Each person in the congregation would lead with a song, and finally the service would end with a prayer for all of the concerns. In some ways, you could consider this the sharing of joys, sorrows, and concerns in the Black church tradition.

Being brought up in this kind of environment, I took the Bible literally and believed every Bible story I was taught in Sunday school. At the age of ten, I had my first spiritual experience, which I now consider a miracle. I was playing in the house with a cousin, and we were running around in different rooms. Suddenly, I tripped on the carpet and fell on the floor, where I knocked out my front tooth. My mouth was filled with blood, and my mother rushed me to the dentist. He examined me and put something in my mouth to stop the bleeding. He told my mother that the tooth could not be saved, and we would have to replace it with an implant. I cried and told my mother I did not want a new tooth. I remember very clearly my mother taking me home and calming me down. I climbed up on my bed, and she stopped me from crying.  Once the bleeding had stopped, she noticed that I was calmer. She got down on her knees by my bedside. She asked me if I believed God could heal my tooth. I said yes. She suggested that both of us pray for a healing. She took the tooth that I knocked out of my mouth, washed it, and placed it back inside my mouth and held it in position throughout the time that we prayed together. After we finished our prayer, I fell asleep, and my mother went back to work in the kitchen.

In an hour or so, I woke up, I asked mom if I could have something to eat. She asked what I wanted, and I said some toast with jelly. She asked if I felt I could eat it without pain, and I said yes. When she brought the jelly sandwich to me, I bit into it without any pain, and the tooth did not fall out.  It was firmly rooted in my mouth. We both jumped up for joy when I told her. Together we said a prayer of thanksgiving for the restoration of my tooth. When we told the dentist, he was amazed. Today that tooth is still there. As a child this was an incredible experience for me. Can you imagine how this would change the life of a ten-year-old child who was struggling with his own spirituality?  

What we think and how we feel can actually change the biochemistry of our bodies. When we learn to go beyond our limitations and seek a place of oneness with the universe, things can change.

Today therapists and medical doctors realize that there is a healing factor to prayer. Much of this is due to the work of Deepak Chopra, who lectured on a holistic approach to medicine before it was accepted by the general population. However, even as early as 1902, William James in his publication of The Varieties of Religious Experience stated that “prayers for the sick, if any medical fact can be considered to stand firm, it is that in certain environments, prayer may contribute to recovery and should be encouraged as a therapeutic measure.”

What we think and how we feel can actually change the biochemistry of our bodies. When we learn to go beyond our limitations and seek a place of oneness with the universe, things can change. Chopra tells us that the biochemistry in the body is a product of awareness. He feels that beliefs, thoughts, and emotions create chemical reactions that exhibit themselves in every cell. Chopra says the key moment in getting well is when loss of fear causes a shift in the quantum fluctuations, which results in the physical expression of health. As a consequence of this research, medical students are now learning about the spiritual practices of their patients. As a former hospital chaplain, I found praying with patients and their families was a very healing experience for everyone involved. It seemed to me that the collective focus of energy of several people on one individual helped that person begin a healing process from within. Prayer seemed to bring about a change within everyone present on a molecular level. 

I believe in the power of prayer. Not just because of my childhood experience but from my adult experiences in life. Sitting in silence with someone, holding their hand, or laying hands on them are special ways of praying that enhance our spiritual lives. Gratitude is an important aspect of prayer, and I certainly feel a sense of it each time I pray.

By standing in the Light, we are able to let that of God within us shine outward to touch another person. I like to envision the Divine Spirit illuminating a person or situation.

In our Quaker tradition, we have an expression of “holding someone in the Light.” I think it means different things to different people. For me, the expression has two dimensions. The first is a mystical quality of seeing the person or situation in my mind’s eye surrounded by Divine Light. I often think of God as the Light (John 1:9). That Light is filled with grace and love. It also has a healing quality about it. It is that healing quality that changes the biochemistry in our bodies and allows our Light to shine from within. As George Fox says, “The first step of peace is to stand still in the Light.” By standing in the Light, we are able to let that of God within us shine outward to touch another person. I like to envision the Divine Spirit illuminating a person or situation. This is not a result of our supplicating prayers, which for me, is part of this process, but rather a result of divine grace, which is freely given.

When I hold someone in the Light, I feel a spiritual bond or special connection with the person or situation. I am reminded of the Scripture in Galatians 6:2 of bearing one another’s burdens. This is what I feel, as if I am bearing that burden with someone. Take for instance, when one of my friends told me of the death of her daughter, I felt her pain and grieved with her. I tried to hold her in the Light for strength and courage to get through the difficult days ahead. Although I was not able to visit her, I still felt my spiritual bond was keeping us close.

The second dimension of “holding someone in the Light” is the practical aspect of not only thinking of the person or situation but opening oneself up to the possibility of helping in some way. That help can be manifested by just listening on the phone or in person, holding a hand, sitting in silence, or encouraging someone to express their feelings by crying on my shoulder or my extending a hug. The help can also be more in-depth by using whatever skills or abilities I have to make a difference in someone’s life. Maybe it is giving a friend who is taking care of a parent a rest break or going shopping for them. Maybe it is taking someone to a doctor’s appointment to help a caregiver, or sitting with someone while a surgery is taking place in a hospital. Sometimes I might be literally holding a person as they might be falling apart emotionally. These are just a few examples of what I might do. In each case, I feel as if I am holding the person in the Light.

In my view, prayer is a part of the process of holding someone in the Light. To hold someone in the Light is a spiritual practice, just like fasting or meditation. They all complement one another and help us on our spiritual journey.

The post Pray Without Ceasing appeared first on Friends Journal.

I recently had major surgery and spent two weeks in a hospital. Some colleagues and staff from the office told me that they were praying for me; many Friends from my Friends meeting were holding me in the Light. There is a period at the end of our worship at Baltimore’s Homewood Meeting when someone from the Ministry and Counsel Committee announces a time for holding persons in the Light or praying for them, so I was held corporately in the Light for several weeks. These events prompted the current reflection on holding in the Light, prayer, and healing.

At the Friends General Conference Gathering one summer in the late 1980s, I took the workshop of the late Richard Lee on meeting for healing (See “Meetings for Healing in the Manner of Friends” (PDF) by Lee and Merry Stanford in the December 1995 issue of Friends Journal and “Meeting for Worship for Healing” by Lee and Sarah M. Lloyd, April 2018). I helped start a healing group at my meeting in the 1990s and facilitated the group for many years; the group continues though it is now hosted by Stony Run Meeting in Baltimore.

We felt bonded in the healing group. We had regular monthly sessions with many of the same Friends attending. We held hands in a circle for a few minutes at the beginning and end of the sessions (this was prior to COVID).

(As an aside, I’ll say that in this society, we do not connect physically with people very much. When I lived for four years in Europe in the early 1980s—one year in France and three in Belgium—Friends and people who knew each other well often embraced both upon meeting and parting, and they often also gave two or three cheek kisses. I had to end this habit quite rapidly upon moving back to the United States.)

I started our meetings for healing by asking those present for the names of people who needed healing, which could include persons present, and made a list. After an initial silence, I read a name followed by two to three minutes of silence before reading the next name. We also put an empty chair in the center of the circle, and if someone present needed healing, she or he could go and sit in the chair. Then during the two to three minutes, other Friends, with this person’s approval, could step forward and place their hands on the shoulder, arm, forehead, knee, etc. of that person to send healing energy to him or her. One participant knew Reiki techniques of energy and would provide that service at that time. Knowing of George Fox’s Book of Miracles also helped ground us by confirming that healing has a long history among Friends.

We felt bonded in the group, particularly by having a regular monthly session with many of the same Friends attending. But as a scientist, I wondered if any studies had been done to document the effects of prayer on healing.

But as a scientist, I wondered if any studies had been done to document the effects of prayer on healing. In medical science, the gold standard is a randomized trial published in a peer-reviewed journal, which minimizes potential biases. I found such a 2006 study by Herbert Benson et al., titled “Study of the therapeutic effects of intercessory prayer (STEP) in cardiac bypass patients: A multicenter randomized trial of uncertainty and certainty in receiving intercessory prayer.” The study considered three groups of patients who had recently had heart surgery; patients were randomized to the three groups. In the first group were those who were prayed for and knew they were being prayed for. In the second group were those who were prayed for but did not know that they were being prayed for. The third group was a control group that was not prayed for. Complications are quite common among these patients, so that was used as the outcome of interest. The hypothesis, of course, is that those who are prayed for will have fewer complications. Surprisingly, the group that knew they were being prayed for had significantly higher complications rates. The authors stated: “Understanding why certainty of receiving intercessory prayer was associated with a higher incidence of complications will require additional study.” One possible explanation is that those who knew they were being prayed for were possibly more stressed, and stress is not good for those recovering from heart surgery. 

In the intervening years, more randomized studies have been done of the effects of prayer on health outcomes. A 2009 review of all ten of the high-quality studies (“Intercessory prayer for the alleviation of ill health” by Roberts, Ahmed, and Davison) produced the following result: “Overall, there was no significant difference in recovery from illness or death between those prayed for and those not prayed for.” 

Upon closer inspection, I discovered that in all of the studies those doing the praying did not know the person they were praying for! This is totally different from the experience with meeting for healing and holding someone in the Light at the end of Friends worship. The problem from a scientific perspective is that one can never do a randomized study where those praying know the person being prayed for. Specifically, suppose someone named Susan needs healing. One could not randomize the people who know Susan and tell one random half that they cannot pray for Susan while the other random half can.

Many Friends believe that holding in the Light simply recognizes that Light pervades all of life and that individuals can access that Light and hold a given person or persons in that Light. Might it be so!

There are therefore two possibilities. First, there may be a significant effect of praying or holding in the Light when those praying know the person being prayed for. Many of us have stories of someone we know who was very ill and was prayed for or held in the Light and then was miraculously healed, despite a terrible prognosis from physicians and with no explanation from medical science. But documenting this experimentally is virtually impossible. Or second, whether or not praying has an effect, the relationship between the person praying and the person prayed for is strengthened by the act of praying or holding in the Light. As Friends, we can affirm that holding someone in the Light strengthens our bond with that person. Similarly for the group in meeting for healing, it also creates a bond between members of the group. Prayer and holding in the Light helps the Spirit move among us. 

In a related matter at our meeting, every week in the announcements period after worship, we read the names of persons murdered in Baltimore in the previous week. We ask that they and all the persons who knew them be held in the Light. In addition, on a long banner in front of the meetinghouse, we write the names of homicide victims during the year. The banner title for 2024 (changed slightly from the wording for 2023 and earlier years) is “We hold in the Light Baltimore homicide victims and those who knew them—2024.” All persons touched by violence in the city and elsewhere need to be held in the Light.

Whether there was a difference between praying and holding in the Light came up in our monthly meeting for business when one Friend said that some of the pedestrians passing by on the sidewalk next to the banner would not understand the phrase “hold in the Light.” But overall, we felt people would understand and translate it, if needed, using their own experience. To go deeper, I must first make an admission: some may consider me a seasoned Friend, but I am very weak in theology. Thankfully this is not really a problem, because Quakerism is an experiential religion. Anyway, in Christianity, Islam, and some other religions, prayers are from a person to a Supreme Being. On the other hand, many Friends believe that holding in the Light simply recognizes that Light pervades all of life and that individuals can access that Light and hold a given person or persons in that Light. Might it be so!

The post Holding in the Light, Prayer, and Healing appeared first on Friends Journal.

Transformational Prayer and Healing

In the beginning God created the heaven and the earth. And the earth was without form, and void. . . . And God said, Let there be light: and there was light. And God saw the light, that it was good: and God divided the light from the darkness.” —Gen. 1:1–4 (King James Version).

A myriad of generations grew up with an understanding of God as our Creator. God, or the idea of the existence of a God, is so vast and complex that scientists debate and look for proof. Many people doubt and ask: How could a benevolent God exist when there is so much hatred and turmoil in the world today? If God exists, why doesn’t He or She stop bad things from happening to good people? 

Too often, we simplify our understanding of God as an entity—a Creator. If something can be created and later becomes broken, it can be fixed or healed. Sadly, however, something broken cannot always be fixed, and consequently, like Christ on the cross, we feel God has forsaken us. We stand in the darkness of pain, suffering, and grief, desperately grasping to once again see the Light: to once again breathe, hope, laugh, love, and feel joy. Not only do we long for healing, we need to heal—heart, body, and soul—as individuals, families, and nations.

I am neither a biblical scholar on the topic of prayer, nor am I a scientific researcher of the physical benefits of prayer. I am a seeker, trying to understand close encounters I have experienced with the Divine. I have had questions most of my life. Why do my spiritual sensibilities seem out of sync with my upbringing in a nondenominational Christian church? Why do I feel a presence calling me to serve? Why am I being haunted by the healing lyrics of a particular song on the radio every time I get in the car? How do I know if the inner voice speaking to me is divine intervention, my own inner monologue, or enemies of the Light? Where is God’s voice when I need it most?

I have suffered the unexpected loss of a spouse, cared for a dying parent in hospice, felt rejection and heartbreak in a relationship, and known the regret of making poor decisions and their consequences. I’ve had my fair share of being alone in the darkness shouting Why did this have to happen? or pleading Please take away this pain! In those prayerful moments of accepting that I am broken and feeling that I have lost control, my season of healing begins. 

The Purpose of Prayer

You may call it “prayer.” Some call it “affirmation” or “positive karmic intention.” I call it “talking to God.” Drawing upon the strength of a power greater than myself helps me focus on what matters in the moment, reduces my anxieties, gives me hope, and “restoreth my soul,” as David so aptly describes in the twenty-third psalm. Prayer helps me be more mindful of messages sent from God to help me find my way out of the dark, like the spoken ministries shared in a recent Friends meeting I attended. Sometimes it takes a tap on the shoulder from God to remind us that we’re not alone. Healing is not done in isolation; it is done in community with the support of family, friends, and God.

When we trust God in a season of waiting, we open ourselves up to healing. When we are healing, we nurture our spiritual growth. Growing in spirit brings peace, hope, and transformation.

Healing Takes Time

I have a small plaque in my bedroom that I read every night to remind me to wait: to be patient for healing. I need the reminder because patiently waiting is not in my nature.

I once prayed for patience. For several weeks thereafter, it seemed every day, multiple times a day, my patience was put to the test. I even began to get impatient waiting for God to miraculously grant my request. Then one day, I realized the tests were God’s way of forcing me to practice and hone my patience skills. Since then, I have gotten better but still struggle with impatience, especially when it comes to emotional and spiritual healing. 

Sometimes, God is quite clear in answering our prayers. When I had doubts about the man I was in a relationship with and subsequently married to for 30 years, I prayed, “God, I don’t think this is what I want. Would you send me another?” God did not hesitate. I heard an assertive and somewhat frustrated message, “I don’t care if this is what you want; this is who you need.” This divine intervention has had a lifelong impact on me and has also been thoughtfully useful to others I have shared it with over the years. Scripture tells us that God wants to meet our needs and our heart’s desire. However, sometimes what we want simply is not possible or what is best for us. 

Other times, God answers in slower or more surprising ways. You may have experienced finding a doctor that finally was able to diagnose a health issue. You may have made a difficult decision to go forward in a particular direction, only to have obstacles put in your way that prompted you to alter your course. God doesn’t work in our time, so we need to be patient and wait for the right answers and for obstacles to be removed. Our prayers could be limiting what we need for healing. We have no view of what’s to come. God may be saying, “If you wait, I have more and better for you.” 

The past 18 months have been—and continue to be—a season of healing from the unexpected loss of my spouse. With one phone call from the ICU, my life was forever changed. My heart was broken. In the weeks and months that followed, I felt an emptiness and dull ache. I just wanted the pain to go away. I prayed but felt God was not listening and I began to question my faith. I didn’t realize it at the time, but while I waited God was working behind the scenes for my good and benefit.

Expectantly waiting doesn’t preclude us from seeking out new activities, relationships, or opportunities that could help in our healing or in finding purpose in our pain. Slowly I began my quest to seek out a purpose, to leave behind my pain (if only for a little while) so that I might serve others. I began to refresh my interests in creative endeavors l had long ago set aside, like writing, playing the piano, and networking with friends and work colleagues. I began refreshing my Spanish-language skills, walking more and eating less (or at least healthier). I forced myself to do things I enjoyed doing with my late husband, like going out to dinner and the movies. I even bolstered the courage—at the age of 72—to do stand-up comedy on open-mic nights. My community of people who cared about me stood by me, encouraged me, and loved me. I began to see the Light and feel relief from the pain. Laughter came back into my heart, and I began to feel more joyful than I had in years. 

There is no equation or set of variables we can use to measure, schedule, or forecast our healing progress. We all heal from pain and sorrow in our own time. Emotional and spiritual healing is not scientific; it is divine. When we trust God in a season of waiting, we open ourselves up to healing. When we are healing, we nurture our spiritual growth. Growing in spirit brings peace, hope, and transformation.

The post Trusting God in a Season of Waiting appeared first on Friends Journal.

I swallow my sorrow, but cannot
digest it, so I tranquilize it into
girdling fat and agree not to bring up
the subject.
                      Rheumy-ness in my eyes
is a slug’s slimy trail of bad decisions.

Sometimes drunks don’t wake up.
Sometime weathervanes spin every
direction
                  and normal is only a concept,
the foggy plastic window in my wallet
where my photo ID used to be.

                                                          Prayer
is a song I sing, hoping to find a way
home by following the melody.

The post Melody appeared first on Friends Journal.

He tosses his life’s work in Tuesday’s trash
and corkscrews down a hole of despair,
alone and unknown, certain companionship
is an illusion.
                         Love circles bedside, quiet-like,
stirring just enough to be a presence,
relieving pressure, uncramping space
with a sacred spine of focused not-doing,
a special kind of elbow grease.
                                                        Prayer is
a mystery. There’s no point in thinking
about it or even using words.

The post Elbow Grease appeared first on Friends Journal.

An Interview with Nobel Prize-Winning Author Jon Fosse

Last October, Norwegian author and playwright Jon Fosse was awarded the 2023 Nobel Prize in Literature, which recognizes a writer’s entire body of work. In 2022, his novel A New Name: Septology VI-VII, translated into English by Damion Searls, was shortlisted for the International Booker Prize; and the book was named a finalist for the 2023 National Book Critics Circle Award in Fiction. Centered on a pair of doppelgangers who are both painters named Asle, the multi-volume novel explores such themes as mortality, prayer, and the spirituality of art. Fosse has Quakers in his family, and he has attended meeting for worship in adulthood. He is now a practicing Catholic who views spiritual experience through a Quaker lens. Friends Journal staff writer Sharlee DiMenichi interviewed Fosse via Zoom in early February. The interview has been lightly edited.

Sharlee DiMenichi: Well, could you start by talking a bit about how your previous Quaker faith influenced your writing [in Septology] of the narrator’s view of light and darkness in his paintings?

Jon Fosse: I’m quite sure that my relation to the Quakers has been very fundamental for my writing and for me. The concept of the Inner Light, the way it relates to a Norwegian painter named Lars Hertervig [1830–1902] . . . I’ve written a novel about him called Melancholia. He was called the painter of light, and he’s a relative of mine, many years ago. He was a Quaker, and my grandfather was also a Quaker. He wasn’t organized, but he considered himself as a Quaker. So in a way, I grew up with this way of thinking, with the Inner Light as a very central concept. And later on in my 20s, I took part in Quaker meetings. In Norway—I don’t know what you have. We are just this quiet—we sit in this quiet circle.

SD: Oh, yes, that’s similar to our unprogrammed meetings in the United States as well.

JF: Yeah, we keep silent. And if you have something to say, you say it—or the best, you just keep quiet. This way, the trust in silence, that you can perhaps hear the voice of God in silence—I’m quite sure that’s crucial for my way of writing and has been for quite many years.

To me, writing is listening. And I hope at least that this God in me helps me to hear what I’m to write. And that’s just through the silence. I don’t hear any voices, of course, but I listen to the silence. And the silence tells what to write and what I’ve written before. So my earliest novels, they were very black, kind of heavy metal thing. But my later novels are closer to the music of Bach, I would say, in their composition and the way that I repeat it. But even they are basically written as a kind of literary music. Of course, it’s not music, but it’s—language also has musical qualities, and I use them for all they’re worth, I think. A long novel like Septology is a kind of composition. It’s the muse, the flow, the rhythm I guess is the right word. It’s completely crucial to it.

I feel like a Quaker still in many ways, but I’m a Catholic now. I converted to the Catholic Church for various reasons, but to me, I experience the mass very much like a Quaker meeting. You have these liturgical texts repeated again and again. I prefer the Latin mass, if I can choose that. And then I don’t understand all of it, just a little bit here and there. So in a way, this ritual element becomes also a kind of silence. The meaning is repeated again and again and has been for 2,000 years. So that traditional meaning, somehow it says nothing. It becomes a silence. So the silence is coming that way. And I guess in my fiction, in my prose, it’s the repetition that somehow lets the silence enter my writing. And it—this is also crucial for the rhythm—these breaks, these silences, these pauses in my plays—it’s easier to see in my plays to understand what I’m trying to say.

SD: So you talked a bit about the role that silence plays in your current spiritual life. How did that evolve when you left Quakerism?

JF: I have never left Quakerism, in a way. I go to the mass now, but as I tried to say, in a way, I experience the mass—to a large degree, the silence, the presence of God, I also experience in the Catholic mass. Perhaps it shouldn’t be like that, but I do. To me it’s like that. So I was never an organized Quaker. I thought that there was something un-Quakerish about being an organized Quaker, if you know.

SD: I see.

JF: I took part in the meetings in Bergen when I lived there, the second biggest town in Norway. Now I live in Oslo, and the Quaker communities both in Bergen—and there we were four or five persons normally, perhaps six, only that. I guess they are around 10 or 12 in a normal meeting here in Oslo. All in all, in the whole of Norway, there are only 150 Quakers organized. So it’s a very small community. And I felt I needed something bigger and stronger, in a way, to support me in my life. Because of that, I went to the Catholic Church.

The man who taught me a way to believe in a Catholic way was Meister Eckhart, the mystic. And if you read him, you will see that in the twelfth century, he wrote almost exactly the same as George Fox did in the seventeenth century but 500 years earlier. And he was a Dominican, a heretic of course. I am kind of a heretic in the Catholic Church, but they are very happy to have me as a Catholic. The pope, Pope Francis, sent me a personal letter when I got the Nobel Prize.

SD: Wonderful, oh my goodness.

JF: Yeah. That was very good. It almost brought me to tears. It was very touching—because I am, in a way, kind of a heretic. I’m also divorced, something you shouldn’t be as a Catholic. So they used their grace to let me into their community.

SD: So you mentioned that you worshiped with the Quakers in Bergen. Could you talk a bit about how you came to that meeting? And were you a member or an attender?

JF: I was, of course, a bit afraid the first time, but it was in a home in the living room of a woman living alone in Bergen. We met there, this small group. One of them was Andrew Kennedy; he was a professor in English, [teaching about Samuel] Beckett was his main thing. We were just this small, strange group sitting there. But this quietness, it came, and you could feel a kind of presence of what I call God in the meeting.

I’m quite sure that each and every human being has something of God in themselves. And in a strange way, that is what makes them completely unique, but at the same time, this quality is completely universal. So as a human being, we are completely unique, every one of us, and we are universally the same. This doubleness is very strange, but it’s true.

SD: How did the vantage point of the narrator evolve over the course of writing Septology?

JF: When I’m writing, as I said, it’s an act of listening. I started writing this novel in a castle in France that had belonged to Paul Claudel, the famous French poet and also Catholic; it belonged to him many years ago but now to his family. I was invited to go there, and I started writing this novel there. By then, I had written for many years, almost only plays, and I decided to quit writing plays. I wanted to write what I call slow prose. A play needs a kind of intensity, and I wanted to let the language flow in another, slower rhythm, but that was all I knew. It’s not any conscious decision about this or that. I feel that at least when I’m writing a novel, I’m establishing a kind of universe that has thousands of rules, and I have to listen to these rules and to follow them. I can’t formulate them. There are too many and too complicated for me to formulate, to tell them. Each and every part begins with the narrator saying, “And I see myself . . .” Then it goes into the mind of only one other person, and that’s the second Asle. Otherwise, he sticks to the “I” of the novel.

So what constitutes this novel to a large degree, at least as far as I can tell, is the way that language of time is used in the story, the way it goes back and forth. Now you can suddenly experience something that happened long ago in the past, many years back. The time is mixed; it becomes, at least to me, more like a moment, a moment stretched out like that. So it covers a whole life in a way, in these seven days that the main story takes.

SD: What were some of the most attractive aspects of Quakerism for you? And what are some of the most compelling aspects of Catholicism?

JF: As a young man, I left the Norwegian Lutheran Church as soon as I could, at 16, because I thought it was rubbish. I couldn’t stand it. And then I didn’t belong to any kind of—I had no religious connection. But I knew about the Quakers, and I read more about them and I learned about them. But as a young man, I called myself an atheist. What changed my way of thinking about it was, in fact, my own writing. Where does it come from? When I think about other writers and composers, the music of Bach, where does it come from? How can you explain that in a materialistic way? No, you can’t. Then that spiritual space, or what you call it, opened up for me. And this is an unseen thing, of course, this spiritual space. But you can feel it, and you can know it when it is there. At a certain point, I only knew that it was there, but I started to think about it as God, this unknown.

And then it wasn’t that long to come to this kind of understanding of the concept of Inner Light and to reach God, through science in a way. To me, it was and it is obvious. It became completely obvious to me. So it is. That’s the truth for me. And it still is. Even when I go to the Catholic mass, as I said, these liturgical texts are repeated again and again. And then they have their holy moment, the Eucharist, when you feel this presence—at least I do—of what I can call God during the Eucharist in a similar way that I could also feel the presence of God in a Quaker meeting. Not every time, but in a good meeting, in a good Eucharist, it’s like that. So it isn’t that different.

They are, in a way, on the extreme side. Catholicism is like a pageant with processions and, you know, all this. And with Quakerism, you remove all of this outside stuff. But they exchange themselves, and, in a way, meet. And to me, it was also a personal need, by being an alcoholic, to tell the truth. It was very hard. I had to quit drinking with a lot of help from medication and my friends and my family. And I managed, but I really felt I needed something strong to connect to, and at least in Norway, the Quaker community is small and fragile. But it was a great thing to join this 2,000-year-long tradition of Catholics and a church that’s spread all over the world.

The word catholic means “general”—that’s one thing to, in a way, take everything into itself. And at least in Norway, we are also few Catholics, Norwegian Catholics. We are only perhaps 5,000 or something like that, but there are many Catholics all in all in Norway, but they are from Poland, most of them, or from the Philippines. They are immigrants or guest workers or so. But at least it’s a very long tradition. The mass is celebrated several times each day. Even in Oslo, you can go to a mass at eight in the morning or in the afternoon or in the evening. You can go to a mass wherever you are. The liturgy is the same, the words, so I feel like I connect in a very strong way to a 2,000-year-old tradition, saying that it goes back to Christ, to Peter. He was the first bishop or pope. It’s the center there. It’s the mystery of faith. It’s the most central Catholic concept. The mystery of faith, in my view, is also a very central concept to understand the way I believed, or believe, as a Quaker.

SD: Which Quaker writers most influenced you?

JF: It’s hard to say. I would, in fact, say something completely wrong. It’s Meister Eckhart. He was, of course, not a Quaker because he lived in the twelfth century, but he was thinking like a Quaker. Then it’s the paintings of my relative, Lars Hertervig, who came from a Quaker family, and my grandfather. But if you’re into literature, as I’ve been my whole life, and art, for me, it’s so close to this, to science. A great painting, for instance, cannot tell—pronounce a word—but at the same time, it’s telling a lot, a lot, a lot in a silent way.

So you understand that each and every human being has a unique value. And this is, at the same time, the most general and worst part of this human being or of all human beings. The concept of the Inner Light also becomes, in a way, obvious. Eckhart speaks about the sparkle. He uses different concepts or words, but the sparkle he’s using the most.

And these paintings of Lars Hertervig, in Norway they call him the painter of light. The way he paints light is remarkable. He lived with a mental illness by the way, and spent most of his life in an asylum.

SD: What would you like to add?

JF: There are so many paradoxes in life, and Christianity is full of paradoxes. You can’t make it a rational system. Belief isn’t a rational system, as little as art is. So I accept that I can live with a lot of contradictions and still be as a Catholic and even at the same time as a Quaker. That’s the basic thing.

The post Jon Fosse: “To Me, Writing Is Listening” appeared first on Friends Journal.