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The Many Lenses of Quaker Experience
One of my core beliefs as a Quaker is that I, a human being with no special ordination or sanctification, have access to the divine and holy spark that is equal to every other person’s. And when I join in worship service with others, I know that we are striving together to make space in our lives for that which illuminates our way. I have lost count of how many times I’ve dragged myself into Quaker meeting on some Sunday morning I was tempted to sleep in, only to hear in the ministry of a fellow Friend words that I needed to hear and that strengthened my own faith.
We are in need of one another, Friends, to walk this spiritual path. I believe that taking care to enlarge our circles, to make room for more in what we think of as our Quaker family, is a task to which Spirit is calling us. And so it is a delight, this month, to share with you the stories of Friends whose lens of experiencing the world may be profoundly different from yours, and who have found room in Quaker communities for them. I invite you to read these articles with a mind open to understanding and a commitment to learning.
The greater a people we gather, the more we’re going to need to learn from and make space for people who are different from us in a diverse range of aspects. In this issue of Friends Journal, our editors have collected powerful testimonies from Friends whose brains work in ways that situate them outside the mainstream of human experience. While it is a term that lumps together many very different aspects of mental being, we’ve used “neurodiverse” to emphasize the richness and variety of perspectives within our Quaker communities, and how Spirit works through those whose brains process the world in ways the world doesn’t consider “typical.”
As you read the articles in this issue, I invite you to consider: what are neurodiverse Friends asking of all of us?
Encourage my participation . . . Show me compassion . . . Understand that my “quiet” may be different from yours . . . Try to learn from my way of seeing the world . . . Help me know what to expect . . . Trust me when I tell you what I need . . .
It’s my hope that as we understand these simple requests, not only will we learn how fulfilling they can be to fulfill, but we will do important work in making our communities work better for everyone.
The post The Many Lenses of Quaker Experience appeared first on Friends Journal.
A Place of Unmasking
“I’ve started going to Quaker meetings because the Buddhists are too noisy.” It’s become a “comedy bit” that I do now when I’m mentioning my attendance to other people, including my Buddhist nun teacher who laughed and knows how happy I am that the local Buddhist center’s retreat this year is a silent one. Like most comedy routines, it contains truth. It is wonderful to sit mostly in quietness with other people without feeling a pressure to interact. There’s not a constant input of teachings, prayers, chants or hymns, or “discussion sections” to process. There’s only the occasional burst of words that often resonates in my mind like a bright bell and focuses my attention, which then itself seems to vibrate in tune with the after ring. I become the bell.
“It’s the biggest dopamine high of my week: sitting in a circle with 12 mostly retired people in Monkseaton.” That’s another line in my bit. But it’s true. Quakers are a byword for quietness and—given that many people still confuse them with the Amish—for restraint, purity, and “properness.” But I am finding attending the meetings thrilling. The hour brings me entirely alive.
I didn’t realize until I wrote this how apt the name of the meeting is. For anyone local to me (near the city of Newcastle upon Tyne in North East England), Monkseaton is a quiet coastal suburb. I love how I’ve just realized that the word carries a sense of berobed figures, seated in contemplation: Monk-seat-on. I am a professional poet, often employed to summarize events, like festivals or conferences, in instant verse. But slower, more private versions of sinking into words allow me space and time to process thoughts, feelings, and sensations. I feel that Quaker meetings also allow me this space and time, but it’s done communally. In fact, sometimes I feel like the group is cowriting a poem together, mostly silently except when parts of it burst through into speech. This feeling is not in my comedy bit.
Something that is only sometimes in the comedy bit, depending on whom I’m talking to, is “Quakers are very autistic-friendly.” If I’m talking to one of my many fellow late-diagnosed autistic or attention deficit hyperactivity disorder (ADHD) friends and colleagues, then I will include it. Maybe it will make them want to go along to a meeting. Maybe it will help them realize that there are more places than they think that are safe and good spaces for people of our particular neurotype. But if it’s someone whom I don’t know, or who might only recognize the “medical model” of autism—described only by deficits with the stigmas and stereotypes about existing only with a learning disability and not possibly with empathy or a need for connection—then I will not mention it.
I see my Quaker meeting as a place of unmasking: somewhere I can go and be accepted as myself and drop the usual social norms and requirements.
I am very publicly “out” about my autism diagnosis, having written a poetry collection about it. I am currently touring a spoken word show about neurodiversity. Shame thrives in silence, and since I am in a job where being “eccentric” is more accepted as part of the persona than it would be for someone who works in a bank, I hope I can make a difference by being open. But I still encounter many situations where somebody’s first reaction to hearing it will be something like: But you can’t be autistic! You’re making eye contact! Seem very sociable! Have been married! I seem to fit their expectations of “normal” and will be openly disbelieved. But like many of us who were diagnosed later in life (I was 42 and am 49 now), I have spent a lot of my life masking or camouflaging my autistic traits in order to fit in. This isn’t a conscious decision. It’s a reaction to how society can treat people who are different in their sensory, social, emotional, and cognitive ways of being. Masking takes energy, and new research shows it can often increase mental health problems and trauma, but for many of us it is unconscious, necessary, and ingrained.
Image by undreyI see my Quaker meeting as a place of unmasking: somewhere I can go and be accepted as myself and drop the usual social norms and requirements. I love reading about the early Quakers. It seems like they were going through their own process of “unmasking”: questioning why hat-doffing, vow-swearing, and titles were necessary. They were making a more direct and bodily connection with something transpersonal, rejecting traditional hierarchies and power structures because they don’t make sense.
I am not diagnosing the early Quakers as autistic. However, they were certainly neurodivergent or “neuroqueer” in the definition used by neurodiversity activist and scholar Nick Walker. Walker’s definition of neurodiversity recognizes it can be a movement or a paradigm, not just a descriptor. Used as a philosophy, it values differences in the ways that people process things as a strength, just as variety is a strength in biodiversity:
The idea that there is one “normal” or “healthy” type of brain or mind, or one “right” style of neurocognitive functioning, is a culturally constructed fiction, no more valid (and no more conducive to a healthy society or to the overall well-being of humanity) than the idea that there is one “normal” or “right” ethnicity, gender, or culture.
I think of George Fox’s radical belief that men and women were equal and how that meant early Quaker women thought and presented themselves differently from other women who were forced into more normal (heteronormative) ways of being. That seems to me to fit Walker’s description of “neuroqueering.” Walker acknowledges that the term has multiple definitions but suggests one of them as
Engaging in practices intended to undo and subvert one’s own cultural conditioning and one’s ingrained habits of neuronormative and heteronormative performance, with the aim of reclaiming one’s capacity to give more full expression to one’s uniquely weird potentials and inclinations.
The word “weird” here is being reclaimed from being used in a derogatory sense, but there’s an intriguing origin to it. It comes from the Old English wyrd, which means “fate,” which in turn meant “spoken by the gods.” In more than one way, society has deemed it weird to sit together and silently attend on what might be spoken or heard in that silence. As an autistic person, I can struggle to filter out lots of sensory information that enters my brain simultaneously. In a meeting, I can tune in. I think it helps that I’d had a meditation practice for a couple of years before I started attending six months ago. I am getting better at working out what is an internal physical sensation, what is a thought from my “chattering mind,” and what is an insistent gathering of attention— I’ve come to learn that this indicates I might be listening to or speaking from something transpersonal. I am more likely to say “from the Light” than “from God,” but honestly, “from the bright ringing” would feel closer. It’s full-bodied, auditory, and within and beyond me all at once.
The sense of all attention being focused and heightened seems to me likely both a challenge and an opportunity for my fellow autistic and ADHD humans with low-support needs. Many of us operate better when our brains can look at just one thing at a time and be in a state of hyper-focus or flow. But many of us will struggle with lack of dopamine or an intensely wandering mind. The quiet might feel overwhelming.
Our bodies may need to “stim” (self-stimulate) with repetitive movements like foot tapping, hair twirling, or body rocking, in order to calm ourselves from the anxiety of being in an unfamiliar space with unfamiliar people. Given that we are often hypersensitive to sensory environments, we might hear the lights humming or a clock ticking, or we might be assailed by our neighbour’s perfume or distracted by someone’s very red scarf.
I would love many more neurodivergent people to be issued a clear invitation. . . . This is a movement that was founded on upholding difference and will continue to do so. Perhaps I could go so far as to say, it is a place where it is possible to be “proudly weird.”
Ideas about what makes a good “space” for neurodivergent people are still being developed. My instinct and conclusion from my own experience is that Quaker meetings are potentially good places for many neurodivergent people to worship and to be. But the invitation needs to become more explicit (with references to neurodiversity made clear in informational literature) and consideration given to any accommodations that can be made.
One new framework, developed by autistic doctors for healthcare settings, uses the acronym “SPACE.” The “S” stands for sensory needs, already generally well-considered in Quaker spaces. “P” is predictability, which again is often a great strength of Quaker meetings; making clear information available in advance will help with this, too. The “A” in SPACE is for acceptance, which, again, Quakers have running through their ethos. “C” stands for communication: this is about being aware that autistic people may have different communication needs. Some may be non-speaking or use augmented communication devices. Many have fluent speech but may struggle in times of stress or overload. Clarity and directness are recommended, as many autistic people interpret meanings literally (an organization that values “plain speech” is already onto a winner). The “E” is for empathy; although autistic people are stereotyped as lacking empathy (while many of us in fact have a surfeit of it), it’s less recognized that non-autistic people can struggle to empathize with the different processing needs and communication and sensory profiles of autistic people. Taking time to understand these differences will help in all sorts of ways, as will giving increased physical space, time to process, and recognition of the different ways that emotions are expressed and received.
I must confess to an irony. A new writer friend had originally invited me to a Friends meeting because, as she said, “I keep getting this feeling that you’d love the space and the stirring that’s happening within it.” She’s seen my show and knows about my neurodivergence. But it’s not something that I’ve mentioned in that room where everything happens and nothing happens. I’ve found myself talking about snails and their homes, living adventurously, how love can be embodied in a saint’s name, still being attached to a duck, felled trees, and questions about “what would George Fox do?” But I haven’t spoken about my neurodivergence. There is, in fact, a freedom that comes in not having that as an explicit part of my identity for an hour: to exist in a place beyond labels and identities and find a flow that is part of something wider and deeper, where I am accepted, connected, and reflected. But it is a freedom that is made possible by the conditions that enable me to feel safe and relaxed enough to be part of it. I was lucky to have been invited in by somebody with a good intuition, but I would love many more neurodivergent people to be issued a clear invitation that tells them their needs would be recognized in Quaker meetings and that this is a movement that was founded on upholding difference and will continue to do so. Perhaps I could go so far as to say, it is a place where it is possible to be “proudly weird.”
The post A Place of Unmasking appeared first on Friends Journal.
Centering Up
I have a tight relationship with the divine flow of energy that I call God, and because of this, I occasionally use the word “mystic” to describe how I am oriented. I don’t, though, feel comfortable using the term “contemplative” for myself. I think of contemplatives as people who are deliberate, methodical, slow, and inward; none of which I am. Early in my time among Quakers, I had the impression that most Friends’ minds were like old Irish setters; they would come into the meetingroom, circle a couple of times before the fire, and then settle into stillness. My mind, however, was like an undisciplined chihuahua with the mail carrier on the front porch. My very first clue that I have attention deficit hyperactivity disorder (ADHD) was after the rise of worship a couple of decades ago: a Friend shared how she hadn’t been able to center down and described what was happening in her mind and how disruptive it was that day. She talked about it as if it were highly unusual for her, but what she described was how my brain is—all of the time.
Have you ever seen a drop of water resting on a body of water, and then, suddenly, the surface tension of the individual drop breaks, and it dissolves into the body? Sometimes that happens for me in meeting for worship.
I have been a Quaker since my middle child, Zan (who recently turned 30), was learning to walk. Over the decades, I have participated in what surely must be thousands of hours of waiting worship. And yet, I still struggle with outward stillness and inward silence. My brain simply cannot settle the way most other Friends seem to do. My body is rarely able to quiet enough to cease movement. I joke that my primary spiritual practice is fidgeting. Sometimes, meeting for worship is excruciatingly hard for me. There have been times when I could not stay in the worship room because the hyperactivity of ADHD came to the fore, and I didn’t want to disturb others.
I used to think this made me a failure as a Quaker. I could not do the one practice that seems intrinsic to the communities of Friends that I worship with. Several years ago, I tried to explain this to an anchoring committee supporting me as I participated in the School of the Spirit’s Spiritual Nurturer program. One Friend asked why I stay if it is so hard: why not worship in ways that are easier? I wrestled with the question for a long while afterwards. God even sent me on a spiritual sojourn for a few years, in part to help me explore the question. I loved learning to whirl and chant with Sufis, the sensory engagement of worship with Hindus, and the responsive readings calling us to actions of love and social justice with the LGBTQIA+ affirming Alliance of Baptists church. But I was not led to put down roots in any of these wonderful communities. As I held my relationship with each in the Light, my understanding that I am my truest self among Friends was reaffirmed for me. In spite of my challenges, waiting worship and our precious and remarkable way of seeking unity with one another gathered in the Holy Spirit during our business meetings is the right path for me.
This was good to know but didn’t make my sense of inadequacy and failure as a Quaker any less painful.
I don’t mean to suggest that worship was never deep, rich, and profound for me. Sometimes I would know that we were gathered in the unifying embrace of the Holy Spirit. I would occasionally lose myself, falling inward not toward myself but into the essence of being. The best way I’ve found to describe it is this: Have you ever seen a drop of water resting on a body of water, and then, suddenly, the surface tension of the individual drop breaks, and it dissolves into the body? Sometimes that happens for me in meeting for worship. I’m there and then “I” am in unity with all that is in God—which is to say everything.
I can’t cause this to happen. I do, however, have to show up. And not only just attend but bring my fullest self into the meetinghouse, the meetingroom, and into worship: fidgeting and chihuahua brain and all. I find that not fighting who I am, not getting stuck in what is lacking but bringing all of the parts of me into worship and giving them over is part of my practice.
A photograph of a family member by the author. She describes this blurriness as “how I experience the world when my brain is hyper.”My body is rarely able to quiet enough to cease movement. I joke that my primary spiritual practice is fidgeting. Sometimes, meeting for worship is excruciatingly hard for me. There have been times when I could not stay in the worship room because the hyperactivity of ADHD. . . .
I believe that everything is in God, and God is in everything. Everything I am—my body, my mind, and even my ego—all come from God. I believe that God is present in every cell of my being, every jot and tittle of me. And because of that, because everything I am comes from God, I feel that my spiritual work is to make everything I am available for God to use. This is not easy. Parts of me, like my sense of humor, creativity, and quirky way of being, I’m really attached to and take pleasure in. They define me for myself. I own these parts and don’t really want to relinquish them. I fear that God would ask me to change, to become less attached to them, which might open me to new possibilities, new ways of being available for God to work through, and it disturbs me to think of myself as less connected with them.
Other parts I don’t want to relinquish for opposite reasons: because they feel shameful, flawed, or weak. These parts are my woundedness and hurts, the parts that I want to keep hidden away because they are filled with pain, anger, regret, or sorrow. I struggle with making them available to God because I can’t imagine them being useful. I’d love to be rid of them, to have them miraculously removed from my emotional memory, but that’s not the way it works.
For me, humility is remembering over and over and over that every single thing about me—good and “bad,” loving and not-so-much—is already in God through me. When I cling to something or keep it stuffed in an emotional closet, I am blocking the flow of Divine Love that wants to move through me. Courage is being willing to risk change. Am I willing to submit my love of wordplay to God? Am I willing to bring what is hidden into the Light so that God can make what God will of it? Courage is trusting God with my fullest self. Humility is accepting that my fullest self is exactly what God needs from me. It helps also to realize that God created me with my goofy, sometimes irreverent, pun-loving sense of humor and loves me exactly as I am.
Photo by the authorI think of the contemplative practice of centering down as turning inward, like pulling on a monk’s hood to remove distractions. But centering up is turning outward to allow distractions to become reminders of the Holy Spirit’s abiding presence.
At a School of the Spirit retreat, one Friend once asked if there is a difference between “centering” and “centering down.” I thought about it for a moment before coming to see that I do center; I just don’t do it like everybody else. I’m calling what I do “centering up.” My most reliable connection to my Creator is through my senses. Everything around me is an opportunity to be reminded of the creative, generative flow of God’s love, and so my eyes, skin, ears, nose, and even my tongue invite me to remember that Spirit is within and among and all around. This is the practice of wonder and can be done even while fidgeting. I’m making up the “rules” about centering up as I write, so bear with me: centering up is spontaneous but also intentional. It can be done with enthusiasm and expression, or it can be done quietly, and it often causes joy. It can be done in any moment, whatever one is doing: sitting in meeting for worship, walking around the block, or brushing one’s teeth all might be opportunities to center up. One may center up when one is happy and playful, frustrated, sorrowful, or even angry. Centering up may help shift one’s mood from negativity to hope. Centering up rejects shame and self-criticism and instead relaxes into the understanding that all things were created by God to be their perfect selves, even when they are not able to live into it quite yet. Centering up is a practice of gentleness and is full of the grace of starting over as many times as needed. Julian of Norwich’s quote “All shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of things shall be well” could be a suggested mantra for a centering up practice.
When I center up, I can be reminded of and reconnect with God through whatever comes to my attention in the moment: A white, fluffy cloud passing over the starry night sky, a thought or idea, the neighbor’s annoying leaf blower, my spouse’s hand in mine, the pain in my shoulder, a breeze touching my bare arms, the umami of a mushroom, and the beautiful hoar frost ribbons that I sometimes see on the morning of the first really hard freeze of the season are all opportunities to remember the Sacred. Even attending to my dog’s waste on our daily walks can be an opportunity to center up and express gratitude, if I allow it to be. I’m less likely to notice the sacred when staring at the screen in front of me, but it is possible. It helps to lift my eyes to the trees beyond and track a leaf falling to the ground. When my attention returns to my laptop, I have more capacity to recognize God’s presence in what I encounter.
I think of the contemplative practice of centering down as turning inward, like pulling on a monk’s hood to remove distractions. But centering up is turning outward to allow distractions to become reminders of the Holy Spirit’s abiding presence. For me, centering up is accepting that God created me as I am with my dyscalculia learning disability and my ADHD and that I am uniquely and wonderfully made in God’s image. Centering up is embracing my body and my mind as they are in this moment and allowing them to connect with God in the way that feels right, good, and natural for me. Ultimately, I think, centering up helps me to become the perfect self that God created me to be by allowing every part of me to be available to God.
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I Found the Quaker Sasquatch
I was diagnosed with autism spectrum disorder and obsessive compulsive disorder three months after my thirty-sixth birthday. Both disabilities fall under the broad umbrella of neurodivergence. I grew up as the second of four girls in a blue-collar, working-class fundamentalist nondenominational family in small-town Texas in the 1990s, where mental illness and disability were things that could be “prayed away.” Plus, autism was something only boys had, right? The things that I now know are called “stims” were passed off as “nervous tics.” Things that overloaded my sensory needs and compulsions were called by my family my “being picky,” “weird,” or desiring to be “a perfectionist.” When I struggled to understand the sarcasm and passiveness that is a very large part of the culture of the U.S. South, I was told that I was “too literal” and “couldn’t take a joke.” The things that I needed to help me regulate my emotions and understand social cues were dismissed because I was “being stubborn” and oftentimes attributed to my having “a lack of faith.” I learned how to hide the things that set me apart: to stay quiet even if I didn’t understand something. The things that helped me navigate the complexities of the world were hidden away because I knew that I was a person of faith and these “oddities” were things that people interpreted as me having a lack of faith. I began to mask my autistic and obsessive traits at a very early age, before I even knew the word for this behavior.
I have always considered myself a seeker, whether seeking out every detail about a specific author, historical event, or musician that I was hyper-fixated on at the moment or whether learning about different faiths and religions. I have always loved learning and not just learning but understanding. After my father, I was the first one to attend college on either side of my family. Having spent my entire childhood attending the same church, I was curious to learn more about how others worshiped. For several months while I was an undergrad, I visited different religious spaces every week. Though I visited nearly two dozen faith communities, I did not visit a Quaker meeting. It didn’t even cross my mind. This was Texas, and Quakers were like Sasquatch: they most likely didn’t exist, but if they did, they certainly wouldn’t be here in Texas. Quakers were in history books and on the side of the oat containers, not in the South. So how did this late-diagnosed, ex-evangelical, neurodivergent millennial find the Quaker Sasquatch and become a member at an unprogrammed Quaker meeting? I give that honor to the COVID-19 pandemic.
When the COVID-19 pandemic hit, I was an elementary school teacher with Dallas Independent School District and in an unhealthy marriage. To say I was exhausted in every capacity would be an understatement. I had been seeking a faith community that I could be a part of for nearly ten years, but being an openly queer person as well as someone who enjoys asking questions (and getting answers), there never seemed to be a place where I felt safe and welcomed. When the pandemic hit, I did what most people did and got comfortable binge watching films and TV series. In the lockdown of 2020, I stumbled upon a historical fiction TV series set in New York during the American Revolution and—wouldn’t you know it—one of the main characters was a Quaker.
Image of “Quaker Oats” from commons.wikimedia.orgThis was Texas, and Quakers were like Sasquatch: they most likely didn’t exist, but if they did, they certainly wouldn’t be here in Texas. Quakers were in history books and on the side of the oat containers, not in the South.
It was nearly a year later, after I had gone through my divorce and moved out of public education, that I remembered that Quaker character. A recurring feature of my neurodivergent mind is that I get hyper-focused on a song, book, musical, or even just facts. Sometimes I’ll be consumed with something for a few months, and sometimes it will obsess me for many years.
Such was the year after watching the TV series about the American Revolution. Do you have questions about Alexander Hamilton’s life in the Caribbean? I got you. Want to know about the Jewish world of 1700s New York? Sit back and prepare to learn. Ever wonder how the German Hessian soldiers got involved in the war? I can answer that for you. I began to deep dive into every book I could find on the Founding Fathers and life of those in America in the 1700s. Then I thought about that TV show I had watched with the Quaker character. Using the great guide of Google, I began a search on Quakers during the American Revolution, which then led me to researching Quakers historically and eventually to researching Quakers today. I read about the SPICES, the testimonies of Quakerism—simplicity, peace, integrity, community, equality, and stewardship—and realized that I already lived my life and believed in them. I read about the early English Quakers and how they wouldn’t take their hats off to the aristocracy. In a world that revolved around social class, this was by far one of the coolest ways of saying we are all equal. I learned about how Quaker women—yes women—could be traveling ministers and were thrown in prison alongside the men for what they believed. How they would stand up for the oppressed, being at the forefront of the abolitionist, civil rights, women’s rights, and LGBTQ rights movements. They loved unconditionally. It was the Quakers throughout history who saw “that of God in everyone” and truly lived as if they did.
Photo by Sylvain Brison on UnsplashMy Quaker faith and autistic self mesh more than I ever could have fathomed. I find that the very testimonies of Quakerism welcome the very nature of my neurodivergence. Many of the churches and faith communities I had attended over the years focused heavily on what I consider to be a presentation of showiness: whether that was how loud the band was, how fancy the congregation were dressed, how moving the words were in the sermon, how high you raised your hands during worship, or how great the latte was in the in-house coffee shop. To me, everything felt like a performance and one that I often got lost in. Like many autistic individuals, I like rules that are black and white, and I dislike the “fluff” that surrounds and fills life and many of the religious spaces I had experienced. I also like understanding things to the point of obsession.
Hypocrisy was something I saw so frequently in the churches I grew up in and experienced in my college years. You say you welcome everyone, yet I find as a queer person that your welcome and love is conditional. You show that you want to be a part of the world in the way that you hold your Sunday services, yet you do not practice what you preach in the community. I felt myself to be so much an “other” in the world of religion.
When researching Quakers, I saw a group of people that didn’t just live their faith out only on Sundays but lived their faith every day: whether it be by serving the needs of people in countries at war, lobbying for human rights in the States, or caring for someone in their community. The “fluff” on Sunday was not “fluff” at all; it was reality, a refreshing and welcoming experience for someone who likes the black and white. And lo and behold, Quaker meetings could be found in most major cities throughout the state of Texas! Oatmeal box man be damned! Sasquatch is real and alive in the South!
Being a part of the neurodivergent Friends spiritual deepening community of Friends General Conference and embracing my identity as being a neurodivergent queer Quaker is to have finally found a faith community that sees me, hears me, welcomes me, and values me for everything that I am.
Many autistic folks, including myself, have a strong sense of justice. Mass media has made a caricature of what autism is supposed to look like, but autism spectrum disorder is just that: a spectrum. It is often coupled with other neurodiversity disorders or disabilities, and as the saying goes, “If you’ve met one autistic person, you’ve met one autistic person.” Even though my deep connection and interpretation of the emotions of others is often overwhelming and causes a series of social confusions and burnout, it is also a sort of superpower. Being on the spectrum of hyper-empathy, I feel like I am able to relate to people on a deeper level. For a faith community that shows so much empathy and passion for the world around them, I feel like I am able to be a better Quaker because of the different ways that I experience the world. I often become obsessed with conversations and interactions that I have had and will replay them over and over for hours and sometimes days. Even though this is exhausting in its own way, it also feels like I am able to read beyond a simple conversation and put myself in another’s shoes.
There are things that I struggle with in my meeting, just as I struggle in other parts of my life. But here, I want to focus on the light and the joy. The struggles will always be there, and the work on my mental, emotional, and spiritual health will be a never-ending journey of highs and lows. I know that it was because of my neurodivergencies that I found the Quaker Sasquatch. My diagnoses have helped me better understand myself and the different ways that I see and interpret the world and I can better understand the ways that I interact as a person of faith. Being a part of the neurodivergent Friends spiritual deepening community of Friends General Conference and embracing my identity as being a neurodivergent queer Quaker is to have finally found a faith community that sees me, hears me, welcomes me, and values me for everything that I am.
Understanding and embracing my autism and obsessive compulsive disorder has made me a better person of faith and a better Quaker. So much of that, however, goes to the community of Friends in my monthly and yearly meeting and the larger community and legacy of Friends around the world. At the very core of Friends is love and equality that offers safety and welcome to all those present. A Friends meeting is a place for all. Quaker Sasquatch is real and among us, and she sure is beautiful.
The post I Found the Quaker Sasquatch appeared first on Friends Journal.
Quietly Present
I was diagnosed with dyspraxia and apraxia when I was five years old. Dyspraxia, or developmental coordination disorder, is a neurodevelopmental condition that affects movement and coordination. Apraxia of speech is a neurological disorder that makes it difficult to plan and sequence the movements needed to produce speech. These disorders affect how the brain’s messages are transmitted to the body. They affect speech, language, motor planning, and the ability to perform daily activities. As a result, I found it incredibly hard to speak, be mobile, and socialize.
As a child, I experienced a lot of stigma and isolation that came with being neurodiverse. As an adult, I have come to reimagine ability and potential, and learned to broaden my understanding of what it means to be normal. I like to think that as society has progressed, so too has its general understanding and perspective.
I was constantly subjected to speech therapy and physical therapy, and though they are practices meant to help, sometimes the approaches can seem outdated and feel inherently ableist. I was reminded daily that I needed to be “fixed” and that my productivity and capabilities would determine my usefulness and relevance in society.
Silent worship was the biggest challenge for me. One of the many aspects of neurodiversity is a constant flow of thoughts, which makes it difficult to focus and creates a restlessness inside. There would be an outward silence but an inward chaos.
Paradoxically, growing up going to a Quaker church, I was taught the importance of simplicity, peace, equality, compassion, and social responsibility. Church—or meeting—was one of the only places I felt a true sense of acceptance and belonging. I attended Sunday school with everyone else; I didn’t need “special” guidance or to be kept separate. There was almost a fundamental difference in how people at church approached and dealt with my disability. I still had trouble communicating at church, just as I did at school. But the difference was that when others had trouble understanding me, they didn’t see it as my disability; instead, they saw it as a challenge to their ability to listen. In the midst of misunderstanding, there seemed to be a kind of understanding.
I like to think the reason I am empathetic, understanding, and patient today is because of my experience as a neurodiverse Friend. I don’t see it as “going the extra mile” for someone else’s benefit; I see it as doing my part in order to get one step closer to living in a more harmonious society. Harmony is fundamentally about balance and coexistence, not uniformity. It’s about creating an environment where diverse perspectives, abilities, and experiences complement each other. And I like to think that that is a general Quaker perspective.
One of my favorite quotes was popular among nineteenth-century Friends (and has often been attributed to Stephen Grellet, a French-American Quaker missionary, though its true origin remains uncertain): “I expect to pass through this world but once. Any good, therefore, that I can do or any kindness I can show to any fellow creature, let me do it now. Let me not defer or neglect it for I shall not pass this way again.”
This quote embodies Quaker values. It encourages us to embrace the uniqueness of each individual and reminds us to always treat others with kindness. It also invites and challenges us to practice active advocacy so that we might use our privilege to advocate for the marginalized or overlooked. Finally, there’s also a sense of urgency in addressing needs and differences. Opportunities to make a positive impact are limited by our time on earth. Inclusivity and compassion are principles to be practiced now, because we might not get the chance again.
There was nothing wrong with my school or my parents wanting me to learn how to communicate and socialize like other children, but I found understanding in the Quaker community. Conscientious Friends understood how hard communication was for me and wanted to give me a break when they could and take on the burden of understanding themselves. I always felt safe and accepted at church, and that made all the difference in my spiritual and personal journey.
Silent worship was the biggest challenge for me. One of the many aspects of neurodiversity is a constant flow of thoughts, which makes it difficult to focus and creates a restlessness inside. It’s hard for me to be still, quiet, and focused for long periods of time. I had imposter syndrome every time I sat in silence. There would be an outward silence but an inward chaos. I would look around the room and think how everyone else was so much better at silence than I was. I would invalidate myself because I thought I wasn’t actually doing it “right,” and I felt like a fraud.
It wasn’t until I was an adult that I realized everyone experiences intrusive thoughts during silent worship; some just struggle with it more than others. I have since learned to embrace the noise: to treat the thoughts in my head as clouds in the sky and acknowledge them without judgment, observe them as they pass, and gently let them go without getting caught up in their content.
I have since learned to treat the thoughts in my head as clouds in the sky and acknowledge them without judgment, observe them as they pass, and gently let them go. . . . Whenever I struggle with restless energy in worship, I like to think of it as an invitation to be present with the mind as it is, as God made me.
I’ve also learned the importance of reframing. What many see as limitations or disabilities, some see as gifts from God. Self-acceptance and remembering that God made me this way help me navigate living the Quaker way as someone with neurodiversity. I now see every distracting thought as a type of divine intervention.
As Quakers, we believe that every person has an Inner Light, a term that refers to the Divine Presence that guides and enlightens the soul. It’s always important to pray and meditate intentionally and to try to still our wandering minds, though I’ve come to understand that as a neurodiverse Friend, my connection to God is different from others.
Sometimes silent worship isn’t quiet, and it’s okay to feel distracted; silent worship doesn’t necessarily mean a total absence of sound, nor is it about closed eyes and darkness. It’s about finding time to be open and listen for God’s voice. God speaks to people in different ways, and I have come to believe that those thoughts and feelings can be seen as part of the inner experience. Whenever I struggle with restless energy in worship, I like to think of it as an invitation to be present with the mind as it is, as God made me.
Though disabilities like dyspraxia and apraxia are invisible to the eye, they deeply shape how I experience the world. Neurodivergent Friends should not have to announce or explain their disabilities or need for their boundaries to be respected. I hope that the Quaker community continues to be mindful of this and works to create and maintain a culture where people are attentive to each other’s needs, even when they are not immediately apparent. We may engage in worship differently, but our spiritual journeys and connection to our Inner Light are no less valid. Just because someone is not engaging in the way the majority would—whether it’s not speaking, not standing, or not participating in a particular way—doesn’t mean they are “doing it wrong.”
Quaker worship is inherently a deeply personal and individual practice, and each person’s method is his or her own. Silence before, during, or after meeting should never be mistaken as disengagement but rather as an indication of active reflection or personal participation. The Quaker practice of waiting in silence may look different for everyone, but that diversity of experience should be embraced rather than questioned or pressured to conform.
Additionally, gentle encouragement for participation can make a huge difference. Many neurodivergent Friends may find it difficult to join a conversation or share their thoughts during worship. Asking them directly if they have any thoughts they would like to share can be a powerful way to make them feel seen and included, while respecting their boundaries if they choose not to share. Sometimes all it takes is a simple invitation, such as “we’d love to hear your thoughts,” to help someone feel more comfortable contributing to the discussion. This would create a more inclusive and supportive environment where everyone’s voice is valued, even if it takes extra effort for someone to speak.
By practicing compassion and attentiveness toward neurodivergent Friends, Quakers can better reflect the principles of equality and community. Fostering a space for diverse ways of engaging in worship, conversations, and fellowship helps us remember that all are welcome. These efforts are not about performative inclusivity but about deepening our collective spiritual experience.
The post Quietly Present appeared first on Friends Journal.
Finding What Works for Us
I came to Quakerism long before I realized my neurodiversity, and in looking back, the attraction makes a lot of sense. I was drawn to the stillness first, enjoying the seated silence of worship. The church I grew up in required a stringent cycle of sit–stand–sing, and I resented it deeply. In Quakerism, I love the emphasis on equality, and especially the nonhierarchical nature of our meetings. I craved connection; in fact, Shakers and their tight communities have always been a special interest of mine, so being with Quakers felt exciting.
My meeting does not yet have an embodied understanding of what neurodiversity is, although I’m working to change that. Several years ago, I began a healing journey, unaware at the time I was doing so, and much of it involved participating in retreats run by Quakers. I had known for decades about my attention deficit hyperactivity disorder (ADHD)—I’m typing this 90 minutes before the magazine deadline—and had just come to realize and identify as autistic. As I discarded the shame and inferiority I felt in being different, I began to disclose my neurodiversity to those in my Quaker community. Others around me were following suit.
Photo by Marcos Paulo on UnsplashI accommodate myself: I shift positions, since part of my ADHD means a lack of core strength and ability to sit up straight for very long; I journal; I bring knitting. I do whatever I can to keep myself in the room and occupied without distracting others.
At the same time, I started getting more involved in my yearly meeting and in youth programming for my family. It became clear to me that more than half of the children and adults in my meeting and my yearly meeting were neurodiverse, although most don’t know it. I believe the neurodivergent adults around me are also drawn to the ways in which Quakerism accommodates them, with its emphasis on social justice, celebration of intelligence, and tolerance of social awkwardness.
As in many parts of my life, I now find myself in the role of translator. I walk with a foot in each world, the neurotypical and neurodivergent, explaining the attitudes and behaviors of each to the other.
The meetings I have attended all over New England have children who are not only fidgety because they are kids but also because they are neurodivergent: they can’t not move. They have meltdowns, which are beyond their control and are not tantrums. They get bored and find this almost painful.
Not only don’t the neurodivergent kids know their own neurotype: often their parents don’t either. Many of the parents don’t realize that they themselves are neurodivergent. I am a psychotherapist who specializes in working with late-diagnosed and “high functioning” autistics. As I often tell my clients, I’ve never met a neurodivergent person without at least one biological neurodivergent parent. It comes from somewhere. Even when parents do know about their children’s neurotype, they often don’t know what that really means. Understanding the subtleties and profound differences in neurodivergent ways of being is rapidly evolving, replacing a misinformed medical model. People wildly underestimate how crippling ADHD can be and misunderstand the ways that autism presents, based on the stereotypical and outdated ways they are portrayed on TV.
I’ve come to be an advocate for both children and adults when it comes to accommodations. Some of these are not forcing or coercing kids to sit in a circle (many have a fear of being perceived but can remain in the room or participate in other ways); understanding stimming (self-stimulation for emotional regulation); and realizing that when a neurodivergent child appears to be controlling others, it often stems from a “pervasive desire for autonomy,” which is rooted in anxiety.
Photo by AlexanderWe neurodivergent folks work so hard to fit in, consciously or unconsciously wearing a mask in order to be accepted. Ultimately, even if the neurodivergence isn’t recognized, it still benefits everyone in a meeting to have the vocabulary for discussing needs and accommodations.
As I have come to realize what work for me, I also can now make sense of what hasn’t worked for my type of neurodivergence (underscoring here that neurodivergence is many faceted, not a linear gradient). What doesn’t work for me is the lack of accommodation for stimming and movement: such as knitting or rustling. Although I am not what most people would consider hyperactive, I am very restless. My mind and body are restless; I even have restless legs syndrome. I try to center my mind, but I get caught up in endless cycles of worry unless I actively meditate, and I don’t often want to do that. So I accommodate myself: I shift positions, since part of my ADHD means a lack of core strength and ability to sit up straight for very long; I journal; I bring knitting. I do whatever I can to keep myself in the room and occupied without distracting others. And it works for me, because otherwise I would not be able to be in the physical room where the messages are being shared.
I also don’t love the small talk after worship. I can do it, but it drains me. When I first came to meeting, I never went to the downstairs area for fellowship, or “coffee hour,” and for years I would just dart out the front door to avoid having to talk to anyone. What people don’t understand about me is that I’m a deeply social introvert. I’ll reiterate that I love getting to know people and spend time with them, but I dislike superficialities. I thrive in community, even if it’s just a weekend crafting retreat. One of my all-time favorite experiences in our meeting was an antiracism retreat where we interacted with tough and meaningful questions and spoke with each other about very intense and almost-taboo topics. After that, I felt exceptionally close to a few members of meeting whom I had known for decades but didn’t really know on such an intimate level. Relating to others and having structured ways of doing so is much easier and relaxing for me.
I want our meetings to get better at seeing and understanding neurodiversity, because those among the neurodiverse are an oppressed group, and we as Quakers have committed to advocating for other oppressed populations. Neurodiverse characteristics are not accepted socially or when they interfere with capitalism. I’ve met with many autistic professionals (including doctors, lawyers, and professors) who have been fired from their jobs and struggle with employment due to differences in communication style or unaccommodated sensory issues. We neurodivergent folks work so hard to fit in, consciously or unconsciously wearing a mask in order to be accepted. Ultimately, even if the neurodivergence isn’t recognized, it still benefits everyone in a meeting to have the vocabulary for discussing needs and accommodations.
The post Finding What Works for Us appeared first on Friends Journal.
Shifting System Paradigms Together
I am lucky that my world currently overlaps with that of many thoughtful, inclusive Quakers. On a Saturday in December, I was invited to the annual Christmas gathering for the ladies at the meeting: a night to craft, snack, and chat. My new neighbors were planning to go and offered to take me along. They are also the ones who now regularly take me to meeting. I have spatial distance and processing issues that prevent me from driving, and transportation has been a major barrier to participating as much as I would like. Still, people have tried to include me as much as possible, and I’m not just referring to the rides.
Quakers seem more open-minded, believing they can make a difference in this world. This seems to attract a lot of neurodiverse individuals: people who long for a fairer world. However, even in meeting, the predominant mindset is still neurotypical.
Let’s get back to that Saturday, and I’ll show you what I mean. The person hosting the event called and talked to me ahead of time about how they could help make the event more accessible for me. Having a clear picture of what to expect usually helps alleviate anxiety. Why? Delayed processing makes it difficult to adapt quickly to unknowns, which can lead to frustration and meltdowns. Although meltdowns are a physiological response controlled by the autonomic nervous system, like our heartbeat or digestive system, having them in public is still embarrassing. If I am going somewhere new, where I don’t know people, and can’t predict what will happen or how people will react, it can make me not want to leave home. Having a point person to answer my questions and help me plan around potential problems ahead of time allows me to participate more fully.
After arriving at the house on Saturday, we were ushered to the back door—one of the accommodations arranged beforehand. The main entrance, where everyone else was headed, had a lot of stairs that I couldn’t climb. I had recently aggravated my ankle, which I had injured earlier in the year, and was wearing a medical boot. Spatial and body awareness issues make me clumsy; I get injured more often than the “average” person. Without planning ahead, I would have tried to go through the main entrance with everyone else, gotten frustrated, had a hard time switching to an alternate plan, and might not have been able to enjoy the rest of the night. But by planning ahead, I ended up having a great time.
When I entered the house, I could smell the delicious chocolate chip cookies and other snacks. Most places, I can’t eat what everyone else does because I have a gluten-free diet. They had plenty of snacks here that I could actually eat. They also had food for people who were dairy-free, vegan, or who couldn’t have nuts. It can be tricky catering to so many different dietary needs, but they did an amazing job.
I started talking with the host and other people I know, proudly announcing that I had just started my own business: Nettleton Writing&Editing. Because of insistent productivity and not being able to do things in the same way as others, I cannot even get what people think of as an “easy” job, like bagging groceries or working in a sheltered workshop—not for long, anyway. However, I am highly skilled and hold two degrees. I’ve figured out that though I can’t get a job, I can create one, with the right support. Some of this support comes simply from knowing that people at meeting are cheering me on. Other times, it means more practical support, like one of the ladies I talked with that evening who offered to come over for an hour to help me learn more about using social media.
Photo by Nathan Dumlao on UnsplashI haven’t had as much opportunity as others to interact with the world and its current technology because I haven’t had access. Some neurodivergent people struggle and blend into the world despite the cost. Others, like me, can’t—no matter how hard they try. And those who can’t are often segregated from society: shuffled into hospitals, day programs, and group homes. At least, the “lucky ones” are. Others end up homeless, in jail, or dead. Resources and opportunities are scarce.
That’s just how the world is. I have heard this phrase uttered often, usually after an injustice of some kind has occurred. It makes me want to bring the speaker along to a Quaker space, like this Saturday get-together. Maybe the people who quote that phrase find their world to be the way it is because it’s too small, too big, maybe too quiet, or too painfully loud. There must be a reason behind such black-and-white thinking, right? Most neurotypicals seem to get defensive and spew trite phrases when someone questions them about norms. They have extremely rigid social expectations and are terrified of change. They are very sensitive, poor things. They also have a way of turning simple problems into complex ones. They do not seem to recognize that in the social world, it’s people who create “how the world is.”
Quakers seem more open-minded, believing they can make a difference in this world. This seems to attract a lot of neurodiverse individuals: people who long for a fairer world. However, even in meeting, the predominant mindset is still neurotypical. Cultural misunderstandings and conflicts can and do occur, usually with one or both sides being unaware of what the problem is. They can’t see things from the other’s perspective. I’ve been told that not being able to see things from another’s perspective is an autism trait. However, almost any trait can be flipped on its head; they are all human traits.
So, looking up at a wider horizon, my Easter hope is this article will have been read and utilized: opening perspectives about neurodiversity that will help changes in our Quaker communities hop along a little faster.
After I sat down and started nibbling on my gluten-free goodies, I struck up a conversation with someone I didn’t know, a young lady going into a mental health field. I stated that I do not believe our current mental health system is good for either patients or providers. After going around and around about our differing opinions, we came to the conclusion that we agreed that the system has issues, but we were at odds on how to go about solving the problem. I proposed large system changes—a complete paradigm shift. To me, shuffling things about in hopes of creating change is like moving furniture around and redecorating a house instead of addressing the crumbling foundation. Neurotypicals seem to avoid major system changes as if they would be the end of the world.
Sitting in the car and waiting to go home, it struck me as to why neurotypicals seem to have such difficulty conceptualizing major social changes, whereas I have trouble with changes in daily routine. As someone who is autistic, I’m a detail-oriented person. I see an up-close picture of life; that’s my world. Neurotypicals tend to see things on a broader scale. They have phrases like “that’s just a detail,” because altering one thing doesn’t change the whole picture for them. Change something as big as a system though, and that picture alters. The world they know disappears.
What does this insight have to do with Quaker meeting? Whether neurodiverse or neurotypical, we need to understand that people will react poorly when someone says or does something that threatens or invalidates their worldview. It can make one feel frustrated and alone. We need to seek out the angles where our neurological-based worldviews can be seen in the same frame—so we can shift that frame together. What’s in a world is determined by the connection people have with one another. Over time, we can learn different ways to change our internal lens and create new relationships. Yet, if we are so scared that we can’t let go of our own perspective, connections get confused, even severed. However, like the spring, there is always hope. No matter how confused or frustrated we get with someone who doesn’t share our worldview, as long as we don’t give up we will never fail one another.
I wrapped my scarf around me a little tighter in the chilly car as a myriad of thoughts and emotions from the evening swirled around me. No, I thought, the swirl was too big to have accumulated so quickly. I just hadn’t seen it amassing. It had taken seven years of attending meeting and building relationships with those present to make tonight a possibility.
After arriving home, taking off my shoes, and setting down my sunglasses, headphones, and weighted backpack, I remembered the email with upcoming writing opportunities for Friends Journal. I was tired and wanted to ignore this nagging reminder, but I couldn’t. I needed to write about that night for the neurodiversity issue. Christmas hadn’t yet passed, but my mind was leaping ahead to March and to Easter in April. While many Quakers aren’t big on holidays, they are a necessary part of keeping track of my life. Holidays are growth markers. They give me a sense of time, another important type of relationship: a perspective that can get lost when someone is buried too deep in the details of day-to-day living. So, looking up at a wider horizon, my Easter hope is this article will have been read and utilized: opening perspectives about neurodiversity that will help changes in our Quaker communities hop along a little faster.
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Early March
Everything rumored about March is true.
You brute month, you howling monster month.
Iron-willed March, intractable March,
you will bend a knee. You will give way.
April could only be the cruelest if there were no March.
We’re worn down from climate change’s ferocity:
the heaping snowy mounds that came this year
and its bitter cold.
We’ve done our duty like good soldiers.
We’ve weathered the unthinkable.
We ring hands in anticipation, rub them together
as if there’s a fire near to warm them,
and know no matter how brutal March comes in,
there’s sure to be May and June—
and roses blooming near the doorstep. Then March
will be nothing more than a memory fading.
The post Early March appeared first on Friends Journal.
Peter Wonders about Death and Other Stuff
From a conversation with her ten-year-old autistic grandson.
Imagine what you would feel like
if you did not exist.
What would you feel like if you were dead?
Would you still feel like you were there?
But how could you feel if you did not exist?
It’s hard to explain.
If you and Grandpa had not married,
would I have been born to strangers?
Or, if you and Grandpa had not married,
would I have been born at all?
Would I exist?
If you’re dead, you’re gone.
What would you feel like if you were gone?
Would you think or have feelings?
It’s so hard to explain.
I don’t think you understand
what I’m trying to say, Grandma.
If there was nothing when God didn’t yet create the world,
how would you be there?
If you weren’t born yet,
how would you be there?
Imagine not being there
and not being able to think.
It’s not possible ’cause nothing can change that.
You would still be able to think and stuff.
It’s just weird.
No one knows what if feels like to be dead
because when you’re dead you can’t come back and tell people.
I started to think about this since kindergarten.
When I think really really big,
my brain hurts.
I’ve got a huge suggestion for the Bible:
They should make it easier to understand.
The smallest word with the most complex meaning
is God.
The post Peter Wonders about Death and Other Stuff appeared first on Friends Journal.
Praying with Crow
(1)
I am often left
empty of words,
language is of little use.
Why does Crow
speak better
of such matters?
Prayer comes easy to him
(perhaps it’s the black feathers?),
I wear a gray woolen coat,
yet, I remain silent,
saying nothing.
(2)
I’ve been asking
un-answerable questions,
where did it all go,
all that was once beautiful
gone leaving no trace?
(3)
Crow flies off,
I follow with my eyes,
Coming to rest
on a high bare branch.
Crow looks to the west,
I turn my head
& see the gray clouds
building as snow
begins to fall.
(4)
Crow is behind
a white vail,
not even his silhouette remains.
Turning, I walk home
following tracks
left by Fox
& finding at my door
yellow Spring flowers,
in full glorious bloom
cradled by newly
fallen snow.
The post Praying with Crow appeared first on Friends Journal.
Forum, March 2025
“The Delight of Being Alive” is one of the most beautiful and insightful reflections I’ve read in a very long time (by Gail Melix/Greenwater, FJ Feb.). Thank you for sharing your wisdom and that of your ancestors. It resonated with me.
Kim Moore
Cape May, N.J.
This article spoke to my heart. Years ago I heard a minister talk about a God of society and a God of Nature. The idea of a “God of Nature” resonated with me. The minister spoke of the Native Americans having a God of Nature. This helps define the “Light” for me as a Quaker. Thanks for the article, Gail.
Barry Simon
Middleborough, Mass.
Thank you. I read this as ministry, coming when I needed to receive it.
Harvey Gillman
Rye, UK
I enjoyed this story of discovering nature again and the overturning of injustice from the Federal Bureau of Indian Affairs. I have special feelings for Indigenous members of tribes.
I am also a Quaker from Durango (Colo.) Meeting. I found peace of mind in nature and my love for animals. I’m not an Indigenous person, but as a young child, the outdoors was where I was the happiest. I learned over the years, in talking with the elders and working with members of various tribes, their honor of the land and nature has been embraced in my thoughts. Your writing about “what we love we protect” is so on target, but unfortunately, many are going too fast to realize what they missed.
I worked for the U.S. Department of Housing and Urban Affairs in Native American Programs for 20 years in Phoenix, Ariz. I was the Southwest coordinator for resident initiatives, region 9. Before that, I was the executive director of housing at Ute Mountain Ute Housing in Towaoc, Colo.
ET Dahl
Ocala, Fla.
Thank you so much for this beautiful reflection. It resonates deeply with me, especially now in this difficult time.
Pat Johnson
Candler, N.C.
Thank you so much for this article. It spoke to my condition.
Lauri Perman
Saint Paul, Minn.
Thank you for this beautiful account and invitation to follow your example to connect more intimately with nature.
Marcelle Martin
Chester, Pa.
Is it right to regard anything as outside our sphere of action (“On the Use of Despair” by Amanda Franklin, FJ Feb.)? Prayer connects us with an omnipotent God, and Christ said, “You do not receive, only because you do not ask.” There is a time for waiting in stillness, but also, when moved by the Spirit, a place for vocal prayer, which has been a part of Quaker ministry from the beginning.
Clive Gordon
Sutton Coldfield, UK
I am also a psychotherapist. In the last month, a day has not gone by that I don’t hear from clients who are scared, angry, and despairing. LGBT folks, people reliant on Medicare or Medicaid, women who fear we are taking a major step backward, and the list goes on. I catch myself trying to alleviate their pain, but this article helps me see that sometimes I just have to be in that darkness with them. It is surely not an easy thing to do, but Franklin makes the point well, that it is the faithful thing to do. It is compelling for me that sometimes my clients google me and discover that I’m Quaker and have theological training. Now more than ever, they come with questions about faith in the midst of their despair, and this article has helped me formulate a way to approach those questions and those people. I am thankful for Amanda Franklin’s words.
Geoffrey Knowlton
Hyannis, Mass.
Listening to understand other views prevents unpleasant surprises, moves us beyond divisive and exclusionary politics, and refocuses us on core ideals of God’s infinite equal love and forgiveness for all, so we build our lives on solid bedrock.
We changed our Constitution many times before to include more people in our governments, and we can do it again, so women, minorities, disabled, dependent, Indigenous, etc., can all be better represented after every election at the executive decision table with a seat, voice, and vote. The Swiss have already proved this executive power model is viable. Are we willing to share power with our neighbors?
George Gore
Chicago area, Ill.
Thank you for “Rhapsody in Purple” by Kat Griffith (FJ Feb.). Her experience chimes with some of mine, as I canvassed here in the United Kingdom as part of Greenpeace’s Climate Vote initiative. We were (carefully) not promoting a particular party or candidate. Once people realised this and that we weren’t asking for money, almost all who had time were keen to talk. Many had clearly not been listened to on the subject before, and most didn’t think they could do anything about it. But we explained that if they could vote, they could look at the party manifestos and their candidates and see which of their policies might address their concerns. Greenpeace could send them a briefing about this when the manifestos came out.
It was really heartwarming to see people make connections between their own actions, politics, and things (places, people, creatures) that they were really concerned about. Even the Seventh-day Adventist who was looking forward to the end of the world was grateful for the conversation!
Not only is this kind of activity helping build community but it also helps give people confidence in their own judgment, which is being rapidly undermined by social media, accelerated by AI.
Linda Murgatroyd
London, UK
Wow, Kat, you are truly an inspiration and a peacemaker!
Joe Mayer
Burnsville, Minn.
Online: Kat Griffith discusses her article in a video interview at Friendsjournal.org/kat-griffith.
Meetings using moneyYet another use for our money came to me as I was reading your insightful stories on how meetings use money in the January issue of Friends Journal. In a word: outreach. We want to spread Quaker principles and practices to more people.
Here are some ways that come immediately to mind: post directional signs on the major streets nearby; adopt a street in your community, which usually entitles you to a sign posted on that street saying something like this to passing motorists; make sure the sign in front of your meetinghouse is conspicuous; design and print bookmarks, which you can distribute through your public library; host public events that draw others to your meetinghouse.
Tom Louderback
Louisville, Ky.
David Brooks’s advice is very similar to the way great salespeople I have known build relationships with customers (Review of How to Know a Person by David Brooks, reviewed by Kathleen Jenkins, FJ Jan.). It takes real effort and commitment. I suspect that’s why most of us don’t start conversations with strangers. The other reason is fear that the stranger will turn the conversation around to us. Here is a simple technique we use every day to keep the conversation about the stranger. It’s called the reverse: answer the question with a question of your own. Ever have this conversation with the checkout clerk at the grocery store? They ask, “How are you today?” And you answer, “Fine, thank you. How about you?” See, I bet you have done that many times in your life.
Don Crawford
Monteverde, Costa Rica
In the 1980s I worked in Philadelphia at a small agency whose role was to intervene in large-scale interracial and cultural disputes (“Lessons from My Quaker Ancestors and the People They Enslaved” by Os Cresson, FJ Feb.). I was sent one day to the Eastern Shore of Maryland. Although I was a White person born and raised in diverse places, I had never experienced anything like rural Maryland. It appeared that either you lived in a wood shanty or an enormous new luxury home, depending on your racial identity. As part of my work, I met people in their houses of worship and schools. The disparities were shocking, and the sense of never being able to escape social conditions and old patterns was still so strong. The people I met while working there were mostly very hospitable, even inviting me to their Wednesday evening AME church with them (I went). When I went home after a few days, I had the sense that we all had just played old, old roles once more.
Anonymous
Philadelphia area, Pa.
Thanks for this beautiful and eye opening testimony to native awareness of that natural wellness of spirituality within us all!
Eve
Delaware County, Pa.
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These Times Are Spiritual Doorways
There is something afoot in these times of great political turbulence that is inviting us to connect with greater Spirit.
I’ve been knee-deep in resistance to the Trump administration well before he took office on January 20. In 2020 I cofounded Choose Democracy to train thousands of people in how to stop a coup after Trump said he might reject unfavorable election results—which he did. Following Trump’s 2024 win and now his and Musk’s coup, I’ve been encouraging diverse responses: from tax resistance to developing community groups to observing ICE to defending civic institutions to long-term visioning. It’s going to take a big, wide net of strategies and tactics to resist their authoritarian takeover, but even more than that, I’m sensing many of us are going through an inner transformation as well.
In the days right after Trump’s election last November, my article “10 Ways to Be Prepared and Grounded Now that Trump Has Won” for Waging Nonviolence went viral. It quickly reached over a million views, and I got inundated with interview and coaching requests.
Most of the reporters I talked with were personally shaken. They weren’t just asking, What should we do? They were asking for themselves, How am I going to make it through?
I recall one interview in particular where I was asked a loaded question: given the breakdown coming, how do you hope Trump supporters get their comeuppance? It was a casually laid out question with minefields everywhere. I paused abruptly and reminded myself not to rush in. I took a step back to think about what I most wanted to convey.
I felt myself stepping back too far. Yes, I had some specific interventions to offer and approaches to share about how we need different strategies. But at a much deeper level we were entering into a time when many of our already frail systems were going to fall into greater collapse. This made me think of a quote by Italian philosopher Antonio Gramsci, often translated as, “The crisis consists precisely in the fact that the old is dying and the new cannot be born; in this interregnum a great variety of morbid symptoms appear.” Or as Slavoj Žižek later interpreted: “Now is the time of monsters.”
What do I have to say to that?
I got nervous that I was taking too long to answer. So I gave up figuring it out and just spoke from the heart, faster than my brain could process. Just say what’s true. And here’s the first thing I said: “Look . . . I’m Quaker.”
This came as a huge shock. I have never identified as a Quaker despite my many associations: graduating from a Quaker college; studying Quakerism in graduate school; working with many Quakers and Quaker institutions; attending dozens of Quaker meetings, often before leading those gathered in a social justice workshop; and training Quaker direct action groups.
I’ve always felt proud to be among Quakers doing their thing, but no. I’ve joked about not being Quaker for a long time. I’m a lowercase friend. A friend of Friends.
I continued: “That means I believe there is that of God within every person.”
And here is where I stopped reeling and regained my footing. This statement felt deeply settled in my soul. There wasn’t mucky uncertainty; there was solid ground beneath me. I felt confident that truth would flow from it. I continued without hesitation: “So in this time ahead I want everyone—everyone—to find greater access to their inner voice and connection to the Divine. This will be a way forward for all of us.” This part felt fully aligned.
After the interview, I told my wife about how I called myself a Quaker and we laughed it off as a blip, blaming exhaustion and the deeply ungrounded moment we are in. Still somewhere inside of me I was churning. I could sense that the ground has shifted for all of us.
I didn’t realize I was so in sync with many. One week after Trump took office, an African American elder confided in me on a phone call: “Daniel, I think I’m going to need God now.” Two weeks into the presidency, a White activist with decades of successful secular campaigning told me, “I’ve never been so ungrounded. I need to find a spiritual home.” A Colombian American messaged me and said, “I need someone to regularly meditate with. I can’t make it through this with what I have.” And a wise Quaker I know admitted, “These moments are testing my faith. I need to retreat deeper into it to survive.” I knew exactly what they meant.
We are witnessing great horror, tragedy, and cruelty, as systems are forced to bend to coups and break on whims and be utterly destroyed by dictatorial fiats. This is so much greater than Trump. We’re going through not only a political crisis but a spiritual one. It’s what the Romans must have gone through as their Empire crumbled. What the Mayans felt as their people could no longer keep up their temples. Each of us may view it in our own way, but we’re all experiencing a lifting of veils and great internal upheaval.
The day after my accidental Quaker “blip,” I did another interview and was again asked a similarly tricky question. My mind felt ready this time. I won’t say I’m Quaker. I’ve already seen this question before so I’ll find a better answer. But in the moment I knew I needed to say what was true. I took a deep breath and just let my words fall away. I didn’t go chasing them. I needed to find a deeper grounding and so let myself the briefest of communion with the Spirit-that-moves-through-all-things.
“Look,” I said, “I’m Quaker. That means I believe there is that of God within every person. That means in the time ahead I want each of us to find greater access to that of the Divine inside of us. We need great wisdom for what’s ahead.”
Under the pressure of these times, a spiritual doorway opened for me. And I believe there will be many more spiritual doorways for all of us in the days ahead. I urge you to connect with your inner voice, speak your truth, and walk through.
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Quakers, Nature, and Indigenous Wisdom
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Friends General Conference Joins over Two Dozen Religious Groups in New Immigration Lawsuit
Opposing immigration enforcement in houses of worship, Friends General Conference (FGC) joined an interfaith lawsuit against the U.S. Department of Homeland Security (DHS) and two of its enforcement agencies, the Customs and Border Protection (CBP) and Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE).
Update, February 11, 2025, 2:30pm ET:
The First Amendment and the Religious Freedom Restoration Act, on which the suit relies, are well-established law, according to Kelsi Corkran, Institute for Constitutional Advocacy and Protection’s Supreme Court director and lead counsel for plaintiffs.
“It’s a statement about what has always been true,” Corkran said of the lawsuit.
Other plaintiffs noted that faith-based ministries such as English as a second language classes, food distribution programs, and legal clinics have seen a drop in clients since the revocation of sensitive location protections.
Iris de León-Hartshorn, of Mennonite Church USA, pointed out that Christians believe Jesus calls them to community service. People avoiding church-based social services because they fear immigration enforcement undermines a core activity of the faith, she noted.
“It’s not just going to worship, but it’s the actual act of ministering to others,” de León-Hartshorn said.
Original story, morning of February 11, 2025:
Barry Crossno, the general secretary of FGC, said, “The suit asserts that subjecting places of worship to ICE enforcement actions without a judicial warrant substantially burdens our religious exercise in violation of the First Amendment and the Religious Freedom Restoration Act. These enforcement actions at our places of worship interfere with our religious activities and our ability to fulfill our religious mandate to welcome and serve immigrants.”
There are 26 other Christian and Jewish denominations and community organizing associations among the plaintiffs, including Baptist, Brethren, Mennonite, Methodist, and Unitarian Universalist, based in 12 U.S. states and the District of Columbia, with some being national bodies. The suit was filed Tuesday, February 11, by the Institute for Constitutional Advocacy and Protection (ICAP) at Georgetown University in Washington, D.C.
Since 2011, ICE agents have been restricted from arresting, interrogating, searching, or surveilling people in such places as meetinghouses, churches, mosques, synagogues, schools, and hospitals.
Protections for individuals without legal status at sensitive locations included exceptions for cases involving national security hazards, terrorism, and imminent threats of death or violence, according to DHS.
The Trump administration rescinded the previous protections on January 20.
FGC learned of ICAP’s suit from Christie Duncan-Tessmer, general secretary of Philadelphia Yearly Meeting, which is a plaintiff in a separate suit also against DHS filed on January 27, shortly before a previously scheduled meeting of the FGC Executive Committee. Executive Committee members discussed the litigation’s basis, the previously filed suit, how FGC member meetings were affected by DHS rescinding the guidance, as well as concerns for meetings working with immigrants and asylum seekers, Crossno explained. The discernment process led the group to clarity about joining the suit.
“FGC is very fortunate there were meetings who mobilized, discerned, and committed within a handful of days,” Crossno said.
FGC staff contacted leaders of member yearly meetings to find monthly meetings and churches that would formally state the risks immigration enforcement posed to their congregations, Crossno explained. The statements had to come from congregations who were not plaintiffs in the previous lawsuit. The attestations by Friends in Pacific Yearly Meeting, Intermountain Yearly Meeting, Southern Appalachian Yearly Meeting and Association, and South Central Yearly Meeting supported the lawsuit, according to Crossno.
DHS and ICE did not immediately respond to a Tuesday request for comment on the current litigation.
This is a developing story, originally published February 11, 2025. Please check frequently for updates.
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La Conferencia General de Amigos (FGC por sus siglas en inglés) se une a más de dos docenas de grupos religiosos en una nueva demanda de inmigración
Oponiéndose a la aplicación de las leyes migratorias en los lugares de culto, la Conferencia General de Amigos (FGC) se unió a una demanda interreligiosa contra el Departamento de Seguridad Nacional de los EE. UU. (DHS por sus siglas en inglés) y dos de sus agencias de aplicación, la Oficina de Aduanas y Protección Fronteriza (CBP por sus siglas en inglés) y el Servicio de Inmigración y Control de Aduanas (ICE por sus siglas en inglés).
Actualización, por la tarde del 11 de febrero de 2025
La Primera Enmienda y la Ley de Restauración de la Libertad Religiosa, en las que se basa la demanda, son leyes bien establecidas, según Kelsi Corkran, directora del programa ante la Corte Suprema del ICAP y abogada principal de los demandantes.
“Es una declaración de lo que siempre ha sido cierto”, dijo Corkran sobre la demanda.
Otros demandantes señalaron que los ministerios religiosos, como las clases de inglés como segundo idioma, los programas de distribución de alimentos y las clínicas legales, han visto una disminución en el número de clientes desde la revocación de las protecciones de ubicaciones sensibles.
La Rev. Iris de León-Hartshorn, de la Iglesia Menonita de EE. UU., indicó que los cristianos creen que Jesús los llama al servicio comunitario. Las personas quienes evitan los servicios sociales de las iglesias porque temen que la aplicación de las leyes de inmigración socave una actividad central de la fe, señaló.
“No se trata simplemente de la adoración, sino que es el acto real de ministrar a los demás”, dijo León-Hartshorn.
Historia original 11/02/2025:
Barry Crossno, secretario general de la FGC, dijo: “La demanda afirma que someter los lugares de culto a las acciones de control del ICE sin una orden judicial supone una carga sustancial para nuestro ejercicio religioso, en violación de la Primera Enmienda y la Ley de Restauración de la Libertad Religiosa. Estas acciones de control en nuestros lugares de culto interfieren con nuestras actividades religiosas y nuestra capacidad de cumplir con nuestro mandato religioso de dar la bienvenida y servir a los inmigrantes”.
Entre los demandantes hay otras 26 denominaciones cristianas y judías y asociaciones de organización comunitaria, entre ellas bautistas, hermanos, menonitas, metodistas y unitarias universalistas, que representan a 12 estados de los EE. UU. y al Distrito de Columbia (D.C.), y algunos organismos nacionales. La demanda fue presentada el martes 11 de febrero por el Instituto para la Defensa y Protección Constitucional (ICAP por sus siglas en inglés) de la Universidad de Georgetown en Washington, D.C.
Desde 2011, a los agentes del ICE se les ha prohibido arrestar, interrogar, registrar o vigilar a personas en lugares como templos, iglesias, mezquitas, sinagogas, escuelas y hospitales.
Las protecciones para personas sin estatus legal en lugares sensibles incluían excepciones para casos que involucraban peligros para la seguridad nacional, terrorismo y amenazas inminentes de muerte o violencia, según el DHS.
La administración Trump rescindió las protecciones anteriores el 20 de enero .
La FGC se enteró de la demanda de ICAP a través de Christie Duncan-Tessmer, secretaria general de la Junta Anual de Filadelfia, que es demandante en una demanda aparte también contra el DHS presentada el 27 de enero, poco antes de una reunión previamente programada del Comité Ejecutivo de la FGC. Los miembros del Comité Ejecutivo discutieron la base del litigio, la demanda presentada anteriormente, cómo las juntas en la membresía de la FGC se vieron afectadas por la rescisión de la guía por parte del DHS, así como las preocupaciones por las reuniones que se realizan con inmigrantes y solicitantes de asilo, explicó Crossno. El proceso de discernimiento llevó al grupo a tener claridad sobre unirse a la demanda.
“FGC tiene mucha suerte de que haya habido juntas que se movilizaron, discernieron y se comprometieron en cuestión de unos pocos días”, dijo Crossno.
El personal de la FGC se puso en contacto con los líderes de las juntas anuales de sus miembros para encontrar juntas mensuales e iglesias que declararan formalmente los riesgos que la aplicación de la ley de inmigración representaba para sus congregaciones, explicó Crossno. Las declaraciones tenían que provenir de congregaciones que no eran demandantes en la demanda anterior. Las declaraciones de los Amigos en la Junta Anual del Pacífico, la Junta Anual de Entremontañas, la Junta Anual y Asociación de Apalachia del Sur y la Junta Anual de Sur Central respaldaban la demanda, según Crossno.
DHS e ICE no respondieron de inmediato a una solicitud de comentarios el martes sobre el litigio actual.
Esta es una historia en desarrollo, publicada originalmente el 11 de febrero de 2025. Revísela con frecuencia para ver las actualizaciones.
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‘We Are All Fire Survivors’: Southern California Friends Support Each Other Through Loss, Trauma
After nearly a month of blazes, firefighters contained the Eaton and Palisades fires in Los Angeles County, Calif., as of Friday, January 31, The New York Times reported. At least 29 people died in the infernos, which charred about 58 square miles of land according to USA Today. The Eaton Fire consumed more than 9,000 structures, according to USA Today. The Palisades Fire destroyed more than 6,000 structures, The New York Times reported. Most of the structures lost were homes. Both fires began burning on January 7 and are under investigation, according to the California Department of Forestry and Fire Protection.
Several Quakers in the area lost their homes and possessions. Other Friends did not suffer material losses but found themselves emotionally shaken by the wildfires. Quakers have offered each other practical and spiritual support in the wake of the fires.
Dan Strickland, a member of Orange Grove Meeting in Pasadena, Calif., stayed with his wife in the library of the meetinghouse after their home burned down. A parent of a student at Friends Western School (FWS), an elementary school in Pasadena, offered to let the couple rent a furnished apartment attached to the parent’s house for as long as needed.
“This was a real life-saver for us,” Strickland said of the offer of housing.
FWS staff and others organized a clothing distribution to benefit people who had lost homes and belongings in the fire, according to Strickland. Friends from the meeting tended the clothing racks.
Mayan dancers who were friends and relatives of a staff member at FWS performed at the clothing distribution to increase the event’s public visibility, according to Strickland. Many people in the fire zone as well as neighbors of the meetinghouse are from traditional Mayan areas.
Mayan dancers perform at a clothing distribution event for wildfire survivors that was a collaborative effort between staff of Friends Western School and Orange Grove Meeting, both in Pasadena, Calif. Photo by Dan Strickland.To determine whether meeting members and attenders were safe, Orange Grove Meeting’s Pastoral Care Committee clerk Gary Bagwell used email, text, and Facebook to contact Friends who got in touch with others from the meeting. Bagwell also received a reassuring call from meeting Friends in Bombay, India, where they were traveling. One person whose house was in the center of the fire zone, and who does not use a cell phone, was initially unaccounted for.
“I actually went down to a refugee center looking for her,” Bagwell said.
A new attender of the meeting found a Facebook post by the woman’s children and Bagwell learned that she was 47 miles away from the fire area staying with relatives.
One of the people whose house burned down came to the meetinghouse kitchen after the fire and asked to reclaim mugs they had donated. The person explained that the mugs were a link to the past after losing all their possessions, according to Bagwell.
Friends from outside the meeting offered to convene meetings for healing but members and attenders were not prepared to participate in such meetings for at least the first week after the calamity, according to Bagwell. The meeting established a fund to share money with Friends directly impacted by the fire.
One member and one attender from Santa Monica (Calif.) Meeting also lost homes in the fire, according to Kate Watkins, clerk of the meeting’s Pastoral Care Committee. Some homes remained undamaged even though the dwellings all around them were burned down. One person who lost their home stayed with meeting members before renting an apartment. Everyone in the meeting has experienced trauma whether or not they have also lost homes or possessions.
“We are all fire survivors,” Watkins said.
Santa Monica Meeting’s Pastoral Care Committee and Worship and Ministry Committee met to review opportunities for Friends to donate and volunteer to assist people impacted by the wildfires. In the weeks since the fires, members and attenders have reached out to the meeting to request practical help.
The Pastoral Care Committee has primarily focused on addressing members’ and attenders’ spiritual needs, Watkins explained. People are frightened and shaken. The first Sunday after the fire, the meeting canceled meeting for worship with attention to business so Friends could meet for a longer period of worship. The meeting for worship lasted about an hour and a half. During the long period for sharing joys and sorrows, Friends spoke about fire-related trauma. The gathered worshipers sang the spiritual “There Is a Balm in Gilead.” Friends also convened indoors that day for a shared meal with the tables placed close together.
The first meeting for worship at Orange Grove Meeting in Pasadena after the fire was filled with Friends’ stories of the trauma of living through a natural disaster, Bagwell noted. One person was trapped in their house as it burned and they had to escape on foot.
“The pain of loss is huge,” Bagwell said.
Watkins searched for advices on responding to natural disasters but found none. She did find some advices on community to which she referred. Friends would benefit from Quaker-led workshops on responding to mass trauma as well as from advices about promoting spiritual support among survivors of calamity, Watkins noted.
Pastoral care involves ongoing mutual support, according to Watkins. Lack of such support can dramatically magnify suffering.
“God works through us so if ‘us’ isn’t there, I think it can be terrible,” Watkins said. “We are the Divine’s hands.”
Bagwell consistently relies on his belief in the oneness of God to sustain him and continued this reliance when responding to fire survivors. Natural disasters do not impact Bagwell’s relationship to the Divine. Such occurrences as earthquakes and volcanic eruptions stem from magma moving under the earth’s crust and do not have a supernatural cause, Bagwell noted. Bagwell does not believe in a vengeful God.
“I don’t have a sense of the divine personality,” Bagwell said.
Natural disasters are an exception to Friends Journal’s typical ethical restrictions on soliciting donations for sources. Here are some options to support those impacted by the fires:
- To donate to help Orange Grove Meeting Friends impacted by the fires, send a check to: Orange Grove Meeting, Jane Krause, Treasurer, 520 E Orange Grove Blvd, Pasadena, CA 91104; or send money via Zelle to treasurer@ogmm.org.
- To donate to help Santa Monica Meeting Friends impacted by the fires, send a check to: Treasurer, Santa Monica Meeting, 1440 Harvard St, Santa Monica, CA 90404. In the description line, please put “Fire relief.”
- Friends Western School has created an Amazon Wishlist for replacing items damaged in the Eaton fires and purchasing other supplies. Another way to support the school and some of the extra costs is to donate to the annual fund through their website.
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Los Cuáqueros demandan al DHS a causa de la aplicación de la ley de Inmigración y la Libertad Religiosa
Sharlee Di Menichi
Los cuáqueros están demandando al Departamento de Seguridad Nacional de Estados Unidos (DHS por sus siglas en inglés) para evitar las posibles redadas de inmigración en lugares de culto. Los demandantes incluyen la Junta Anual de Filadelfia, la Junta Anual de Nueva Inglaterra, la Junta Anual de Baltimore, la Junta Mensual de Adelphi (Md.) y la Junta Mensual de Richmond (Va.). La demanda sostiene que la libertad religiosa de los demandantes es violada por la rescisión del 20 de enero [sólo en inglés] por la administración Trump de protecciones para personas sin estatus legal en «lugares sensibles», como lugares de culto.
Actualización, por la tarde del 24 de febrero de 2025: Medida Cautelar Preliminar
El 24 de febrero, el juez del distrito federal de EE.UU. Theodore Chuang concedió una medida cautelar preliminar [solo en inglés] para los demandantes en el caso, pero no llegó a prohibir la aplicación de la ley de inmigración en todos los lugares de culto en todo el país. El juez señaló que los cuáqueros en la demanda expresaron su preocupación de que tener agentes armados del DHS cerca de los templos violaría las convicciones pacifistas de los Amigos. El juez también señaló que el testimonio de igualdad y de ver lo de Dios en todos, independientemente de su estatus migratorio, son fundamentales para las creencias cuáqueras. El juez señaló que el DHS estaba obligado a explicar cómo la nueva política promueve un “interés estatal imperioso” que no podría promoverse a través de medios menos restrictivos, pero que el gobierno no ofreció tal explicación. La orden judicial impide la aplicación de la ley de inmigración en los lugares de culto de los demandantes mientras continúa la demanda.
Actualizado el 10/02/25. Los cuáqueros de Nueva Inglaterra explican su participación:
El secretario de la Junta Anual de Nueva Inglaterra (NEYM por sus siglas en inglés), Noah Merrill, señaló que al tomar la decisión urgente de unirse a la demanda, él y otros al nivel de la junta anual discernieron basándose en las pautas de un minuto del 2015 [sólo en inglés] para responder a asuntos urgentes.
NEYM ha recibido el apoyo de otros cristianos, así como de comunidades de sikhs, musulmanes y judíos, según Merrill. En todo el país, juntas mensuales, juntas anuales y otras entidades cuáqueras han respaldado la demanda adoptando actas, ofreciéndose a convertirse en demandantes y expresando su voluntad de presentar escritos amicus curiae, señaló Merrill.
Un escrito amicus curiae lo presentan entidades que no están directamente involucradas en una demanda pero que tienen un interés convincente en el resultado.
La demanda representa la respuesta discernida de los cuáqueros a una situación política difícil.
“Seguimos viendo los frutos del Espíritu que surgen de esta acción y oramos para que este pequeño paso pueda ser un estímulo (para los Amigos y muchos más) en estos tiempos difíciles que nos han tocado. Estamos agradecidos por los Amigos que nos mantendrán en oración en los próximos días, semanas y meses mientras la demanda y el caos que surge en respuesta continúan desarrollándose”, dijo Merrill.
Historia original 27/01/2025:
Desde 2011, los agentes del Servicio de Inmigración y Control de Aduanas (ICE por sus siglas en ingles) han sido restringidos de arrestar, interrogar, registrar o vigilar a personas en lugares como iglesias, mezquitas, sinagogas, escuelas y hospitales.
La demanda afirma que la aplicación de la ley de inmigración dentro y alrededor de los lugares de culto viola el derecho de los fieles a la libertad de religión consagrado en la Primera Enmienda.
«El núcleo de la demanda sostiene que si las protecciones del ejercicio religioso significan algo según la ley, debe incluir el derecho de las personas a reunirse para el culto. Si el gobierno va a impedir ese derecho, debe tener una muy buena razón para hacerlo. El gobierno no ha aplicado la ley de inmigración en los lugares de culto durante al menos los últimos 31 años, por lo que es difícil ver cómo un cambio radical en esa política podría satisfacer un nivel significativo de revisión», según una declaración en el sitio web de la Junta Anual de Filadelfia (PYM).
Los consejos de la junta anual se reunieron y fácilmente llegaron a un acuerdo para convertirse en demandantes de la demanda, según la secretaria general del PYM, Christie Duncan-Tessmer. Inmediatamente antes de que se presentara la demanda, los secretarios presidentes de las juntas mensuales y trimestrales se reunieron para escuchar la noticia y también se mostraron entusiasmados y solidarios.
«Todo se movió a la velocidad de la luz. Para los estándares cuáqueros, fue impresionante», dijo Duncan-Tessmer.
Representantes de las Juntas Anuales de Filadelfia, Baltimore, y Nueva Inglaterra trabajaron con abogados de Democracy Forward, el grupo legal sin fines de lucro que presentó la demanda, a mediados de la semana pasada, según Duncan-Tessmer. La demanda fue presentada ante el Tribunal de Distrito de los Estados Unidos para el Distrito de Maryland el 27 de enero.
La experiencia histórica de persecución religiosa de los Amigos motivó a los cuáqueros modernos a unirse a la demanda, según Duncan-Tessmer. William Penn protegió la libertad de religión en la Carta de Privilegios. Ella explicó que los redactores de la Constitución de EEUU se basaron en esta tradición para consagrar la libertad religiosa en la Primera Enmienda. La Primera Enmienda fue ratificada en 1791. La Constitución fue ratificada entre 1787 y 1789.
«Es por eso que tenemos libertad de religión en este país gracias a los cuáqueros», dijo Duncan-Tessmer.
Las protecciones para personas sin estatus legal en lugares sensibles incluyeron excepciones para casos que involucran peligros para la seguridad nacional, terrorismo y amenazas inminentes de muerte o violencia, según el DHS.
«El Servicio de Inmigración y Control de Aduanas no hace comentarios sobre litigios en curso», dijo un portavoz de ICE.
Esta es una historia en desarrollo. Por favor busque con frecuencia las actualizaciones.
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Quakers Sue DHS over Immigration Enforcement and Religious Freedom [Updated]
Quakers are suing the U.S. Department of Homeland Security (DHS) over potential immigration raids at houses of worship. Plaintiffs include Philadelphia Yearly Meeting, New England Yearly Meeting, Baltimore Yearly Meeting, Adelphi (Md.) Meeting, and Richmond (Va.) Meeting. The suit argues that plaintiffs’ religious liberty is violated by the Trump administration’s January 20 rescindment of protections for people without legal status in “sensitive locations” such as places of worship.
Update, afternoon of February 24, 2025: Preliminary injunctionOn February 24, U.S. District Judge Theodore Chuang granted a preliminary injunction for plaintiffs in the case but stopped short of enjoining immigration enforcement at all houses of worship nationwide. The judge noted that the Quakers in the lawsuit expressed concern that having armed DHS agents near meetinghouses would violate Friends’ pacifist convictions. The judge also pointed out that embracing the equality testimony and seeing that of God in everyone, regardless of immigration status, are central to Quaker beliefs. The judge noted that DHS was obligated to explain how the new policy advances a “compelling state interest” that could not be furthered through less restrictive means but that the government did not offer such an explanation. The injunction prevents immigration enforcement at plaintiffs houses of worship while the lawsuit continues.
Update February 10, 2025: New England Quakers explain their participationNew England Yearly Meeting (NEYM) Secretary Noah Merrill noted that when making the time-sensitive decision to join the lawsuit he and others at the yearly meeting level discerned based on guidelines in a 2015 minute on responding to urgent matters.
NEYM has received support from other Christians, as well as communities of Sikhs, Muslims, and Jews, according to Merrill. Across the country, monthly meetings, yearly meetings, and other Quaker entities, have endorsed the lawsuit by adopting minutes, offering to become plaintiffs, and expressing their willingness to file amicus briefs, Merrill noted.
An amicus brief is filed by entities that are not directly involved in a lawsuit but who have a compelling interest in the outcome.
The lawsuit represents Quakers’ discerned response to a difficult political situation.
“We continue to see the fruits of the Spirit arising from this action, and pray that this small step may be an encouragement—to Friends and many beyond—in these troubled times we have been given. We are grateful for Friends holding us in prayer in the coming days, weeks, and months as the lawsuit and the chaos in response to which arises continue to unfold,” Merrill said.
Original story, January 27, 2025Since 2011, Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) agents have been restricted from arresting, interrogating, searching, or surveilling people in such places as meetinghouses, churches, mosques, synagogues, schools, and hospitals.
The suit states that immigration enforcement in and around houses of worship violates worshipers’ First Amendment right to freedom of religion.
“The core of the lawsuit argues that if the protections of religious exercise mean anything under the law, it must include the right of people to gather together for worship. If the government is going to impede that right, it must have a very good reason for doing so. The government has not enforced immigration law at houses of worship for at least the last 31 years, so it is difficult to see how an about-face on that policy could satisfy any meaningful level of review,” according to a statement on Philadelphia Yearly Meeting’s (PYM) website.
The councils of the yearly meeting met and easily came to unity about becoming plaintiffs of the suit, according to PYM general secretary Christie Duncan-Tessmer. Immediately prior to the suit being filed the clerks of monthly and quarterly meetings gathered to hear the news and were also supportive and excited.
“Everything just moved lightning fast. By Quaker standards, it was breathtaking,” said Duncan-Tessmer.
Representatives from PYM, Baltimore Yearly Meeting, and New England Yearly Meeting worked with lawyers from Democracy Forward, the nonprofit legal group that filed the suit, in the middle of last week, according to Duncan-Tessmer. The suit was filed in the U.S. District Court for the District of Maryland on January 27.
Friends’ historic experience of religious persecution motivated modern Quakers to join the lawsuit, according to Duncan-Tessmer. William Penn protected freedom of religion in the Charter of Privileges. The framers of the Constitution drew on this tradition to enshrine religious liberty in the First Amendment, she explained. The First Amendment was ratified in 1791. The Constitution was ratified between 1787 and 1789.
“That’s why we have freedom of religion in this country because of Quakers,” Duncan-Tessmer said.
Protections for individuals without legal status at sensitive locations included exceptions for cases involving national security hazards, terrorism, and imminent threats of death or violence, according to DHS.
“U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement does not comment on ongoing litigation,” said an ICE spokesperson.
Correction: The process of PYM’s decision making and work with other yearly meetings and Democracy Forward has been clarified. We have also added a response from U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement.
This is a developing story, originally published January 27, 2025. Please check frequently for updates.
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Kat Griffith: Building Relationships Across Politics
A Quaker author chat. Kat Griffith’s article, “Rhapsody in Purple,” appears in the Feburary 2025 issue of Friends Journal.
Kat Griffith shares her passion for connecting with people through door-to-door interactions, emphasizing the rewarding nature of these conversations, even with those who hold opposing views. She recounts memorable encounters, including discussions with a man displaying a provocative political banner and a homeless veteran, highlighting the importance of human connection and understanding in bridging political divides.
Griffith stresses the significance of curiosity over outrage when approaching others, advocating for open conversations to foster empathy and reduce loneliness. She believes that these interactions can lead to meaningful relationships, regardless of political differences.
The video concludes with Griffith encouraging viewers to engage with individuals from various backgrounds, emphasizing that shared values, such as caring for family and community, can unite people despite differing beliefs.
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Kat Griffith lives in Ripon, Wis., the birthplace of the Republican Party, and serves on the Fond du Lac County Board. She is a past co-clerk of Northern Yearly Meeting and worships with the small-but-mighty Winnebago Worship Group. A previous article, “One Quaker’s Excellent Adventure in Politics” (FJ June-July 2023), describes in more detail her first run for office.
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Prepared for This
I believe it was Friend Lloyd Lee Wilson who introduced me to the spiritual metaphor of the fire drill. Most of you will know these rather annoying exercises from schools or workplaces: a few times a year, the building’s fire alarm will be intentionally set off, and we will immediately put aside our work, stand up, and march quietly to the nearest fire exit, and from there to a designated waiting spot. It’s a tiresome exercise, but it serves a real purpose: when a real emergency arises, we know what to do. We have the “muscle memory” to get up, file out, and assemble outside.
As the clerk of a small Friends meeting, I will reluctantly admit that some of our Quaker business meetings can be rather rote: reports from committees, examinations of monthly expenses, updates on upcoming grant proposals and community events. These are all important tasks, vital to keeping our community and its infrastructure going, and I’m honored to do my part in keeping them going, month to month to month. But they do get repetitive.
I think Quaker business meetings have another purpose: they give us practice in decision making, and we build trust in one another. When something extraordinary comes up that has to be dealt with immediately, we kick into action using the muscle memory from all of those Sunday afternoons spent talking about the finances. Because we’re a religious body that has taken the time to know one another, we can anticipate concerns and move surprisingly quickly.
We’re seeing this in action now with Quaker responses to a new U.S. presidential executive order that has rescinded a policy that has long kept houses of worship off-limits from immigration enforcement actions. The designation of churches as “sensitive locations” has allowed all our neighbors to join Quakers in worship, regardless of their documented immigration status or ethnicity. On January 27, a group of Quaker bodies, made up of three yearly and two monthly meetings, sued the U.S. Department of Homeland Security over the change.
What is most remarkable to me is the speed with which the decision to join this suit happened. “Everything just moved lightning fast. By Quaker standards, it was breathtaking,” Christie Duncan-Tessmer, general secretary of Philadelphia Yearly Meeting, one of the yearly meetings named as plaintiffs in the lawsuit, told us for our coverage of the story. For over 350 years, Friends have sought to welcome the stranger. We’ve affirmed that there is that of God within all of us, and known (though not always practiced) that our faith and discernment is stronger together. When something arises that threatens those values, we have the muscle memory to respond. (You can keep up with the latest on that story and other news on Quakers at Friendsjournal.org/news.)
I’m particularly excited to share this current issue of Friends Journal with you. A number of writers share their tips for staying spiritually grounded in times of turmoil. We have a story of overcoming partisanship through simple neighborly conversation. Two powerful articles look back at times during which Friends failed spectacularly to honor the stranger: one from a Friend uncovering the practice of slavery among his ancestors, and the other on Quakers’ involvement in Indigenous boarding schools in Alaska. They are equal parts humbling and instructive. We also have the latest installment of our new Bible Study column that will be running four times a year. And of course, we have our book reviews and the remembrances of faithful Friends who have passed away.
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