The Many Lenses of Quaker Experience

Cover photo by Mary Linda McKinney: an expression of how she experiences the world when her brain is hyper.

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.

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