A landscape from the Section of the Americas meeting in March 2025. Photo: Courtesy of FWCC.
Letter from America: Tim Gee visits FWCC Section of the Americas
‘Holding faith is a kind of conscientious objection to allowing our spirits to be crushed.’
To a Friend from Britain, there is much in the Arizona desert which is unfamiliar: the sight of hummingbirds and javelinas (wild ungulates) by day, and the sound of coyotes by night. The cacti, which are older than many of the houses, juxtaposed with the futuristic driverless taxis. Then there’s the crosses, rosaries and books of saints in the gift shop of the Franciscan retreat centre, which for a week in March of this year served as host to the Friends World Committee for Consultation Section of the Americas gathering.
I find that when I open my computer and read the headlines on my homepage, I get a sinking feeling. But when I open my emails and read about work Friends are doing with others, I feel reassured that in the darkness there is Light. Being with Friends is like being immersed in it.
Every conversation is gentle but earnest, light but profound, mediated by the mind but coming from the heart. The closest I can recommend to experience it remotely is to spend a few hours watching QuakerSpeak videos online. Some of the same people were there.
Quaker faith in the Americas
Quakerism in the Americas is a little different from in Britain. The liberal silent worship tradition exists alongside at least four other types of Quakerism, including versions which worship using programmed services, sermons and songs.
Across the Americas – even beyond Quakerism – scripture seems to be ‘in the air’ in a way that it isn’t in Europe. Some take advantage of this and try to bend the Bible towards injustice. But for those who seek to be ‘good fruit’, Christian words are also easily reachable.
I spent one morning of the gathering with a retired Quaker pastor. He told me about his journey with the Psalms, which he’d matched to the accounts of David’s life, to develop an empathetic exploration of what might have been going on for him as he sang each one.
Then there’s the old hymns and spirituals: ‘Wade in the Water’, ‘Balm in Gilead’, ‘Amazing Grace’. They came up in worship as well as in shared late-night singing sessions. In the moment their relevance didn’t need spelling out. It was there in the heartfelt harmonies.
As they echoed in my mind afterwards, I heard a mournful lament that – even after the long campaigns which led to the official end of, first, slavery, and then segregation – versions of the same struggles are still needed. The Civil Rights Act did not change the USA in the way many wanted to believe that it had.
I also hear a soulful affirmation that these sounds of hope and freedom reflect an approach to religion which is true. We don’t need to fixate on the imperial and nationalist forms of Christianity. The yearning for liberation expressed in the Spirituals helps form the fabric of faith.
Responding to leadings
‘Look I am doing something new,’ says God in Isaiah, ‘Do you not see it?’ In our small group conversations we share our struggles with ‘seeing it’ when the Spirit is seeking to work through us. We also share stories of times when all seemed lost, which led to processes of healing and renewal.
Reassurance comes from a Friend offering a keynote in plenary: ‘When God told Moses to lead the Israelites out of captivity, he didn’t say, “Oh great, thanks God, that’s what I always wanted”. Instead he hesitated, argued and made excuses.’
In unprogrammed worship led by traditional ‘conservative’ Friends, we hear scripture from Jeremiah: ‘For I know the thoughts that I think toward you, says the Lord, thoughts of peace and not of evil, to give you a future and a hope.’ Jeremiah too struggled with his call.
I loved hearing a Californian Friend recount her close relationship with Jesus, which could spill into argument sometimes: ‘Jesus tells us not to worry. And I say “Well, that’s easy for you to say!”’ She later reflects that even Jesus had his moment of questioning on the cross.
A surge of newcomers
So there’s questioning, but it isn’t in the form of a crisis of faith, asking, ‘How could God allow this?’ Rather I heard a quite different question: ‘How would anyone be able to get through this without God?’
‘I sense a refusal to allow outward circumstances to diminish the life and power which is felt all the more strongly with each other.’
The same Friend shares: ‘I have great respect for nontheists. Me, I just hang on to Jesus for dear life.’
Several people tell me there has been a surge of newcomers at Meeting, seeking spiritual community. In particular more young people and families are attending, perhaps responding to the relatively prominent role some Friends are playing in challenging present injustices.
And everyone seems to be doing something. It might be knocking on doors, Alternatives to Violence workshops, solidarity with migrants, building understanding across borders, or dogged determination to maintain dialogue with churches who would rather not converse with others.
What strikes me though is that all of this is secondary to the source. And the source – as expressed by a Central American Friend – is not just an inner light as if it comes from us, but an inward Light which we, like mirrors, might each do our best to reflect.
Holding faith
Throughout the week of the gathering, I sense a refusal to allow outward circumstances to diminish the life and power which is felt all the more strongly when with each other. Holding faith is a kind of conscientious objection to allowing our spirits to be crushed. A Friend says, ‘This is the heart of resistance.’
Rather than being in a constant state of shock, I perceive a process of inward strengthening for what is to come. I hear retellings of stories of Quaker forebears who took personal risks for the cause of peace and justice, and sense that such stories won’t remain in the past.
In the parable of the Good Samaritan, it is robbers who beat and leave a man by the road, after which the authorities walk on by. In the story being played out today, there are cases where the authorities are not only walking by, but beating the man in the first place.
My sense is that there is disillusion, but it isn’t with God, but rather with the world’s institutions, principalities and powers. Even ‘when sorrows like sea billows roll’, the flame of faith stays alight, and will need to if we are to be good neighbours.
I believe Quakers have a future for as long as God has a purpose for us, and for as long as we seek to unite ourselves with that purpose. Returning from the gathering, I feel sure God does have a purpose for us, and see people earnestly seeking to align with it.
This means that there is a future, and a hope.
Tim is general secretary to Friends World Committee for Consultation.
