Society of Friends

From Philosopedia

George Fox was instrumental in the founding of the Religious Society of Friends

Society of Friends (Quakers)

Members of the Religious Society of Friends, according to the journal of George Fox, were first called Quakers “because we bid him (Justice Gervase Bennett of Derby) tremble at the word of God, and this was in the year 1650.” The name, which at first was used in scorn, at once became popular.

Fox’s preaching made converts among Seekers, Independents, Baptists, and other sectarians, and the new faith spread through the British Isles to the Continent to Barbados and in 1656 to America. Hangings in Boston by fellow Christians and imprisonment in Cromwellian and Restoration England failed to discourage the group.

Rhode Island was the greatest mainland stronghold until in 1681 Pennsylvania was granted by Charles II to the distinguished Quaker convert, William Penn.

[phttp://philosopedia.org/index.php/Elias_Hicks Elias Hicks] (1748–1830), a Quaker from Hempstead, New York, was one of the most able preachers of his time. He worked against slavery and in 1811 published his Observations on Slavery. When a division in the Society of Friends occurred in 1827, he was a leader of the liberal separation party, to which the name Hickside was unofficially given. Hicks, a neighbor and friend of Walt Whitman’s father, was unitarian in his view of Jesus, a position which was different from most others in the Society of Friends. His followers have been called Hicksite Quakers.

When no longer persecuted, Friends lived as a people apart, and they became known for their humanitarianism. They renounced war, favored improved Indian relations, were against Negro slavery to the point that some shared in the activities of the Underground Railroad, and worked for prison reform, temperance, and Indian aid.

Quakers illustrate their simplicity in daily life and in worship. Their services consist mainly of silent meditation. Although in the past they wore distinctive clothing, Friends no longer do.

Throughout the world and since the first World War, the American Friends Service Committee has been a force for improving the plight of peoples without the accompanying missionarying common among most other religious service groups, except the Unitarian.

Edwin H. Wilson, in “Humanism Among the Quakers,” cited the following Quakers as being Humanists: Jesse H. Holmes, professor emeritus of philosophy at Swarthmore College; Roscoe Pound, a professor at the University of Harvard College; Paul H. Douglas, professor of economics at the University of Chicago; J. Russell Smith, professor of economic geography at Columbia University; and Albert T. Mills, professor of history and political science at James Millikin University.

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Quakers: Religious Witnesses for Peace Since 1660

See a website that describes the of Friends.

Famous, Influential, and Well-Known Members of the Religious Society of Friends

For a listing of Quakers who were Founding Fathers in the United States, activists such as Lucretia Mott, and film and television individuals such as James Dean, Judi Dench, and Ben Kingsley, see website.

American Friends Service Committee

As outlined on its website, the American Friends Service Committee's mission is as follows:

The American Friends Service Committee is a practical expression of the faith of the Religious Society of Friends (Quakers). Committed to the principles of nonviolence and justice, it seeks in its work and witness to draw on the transforming power of love, human and divine.

We recognize that the leadings of the Spirit and the principles of truth found through Friends' experience and practice are not the exclusive possession of any group. Thus, the AFSC draws into its work people of many faiths and backgrounds who share the values that animate its life and who bring to it a rich variety of experiences and spiritual insights.

This AFSC community works to transform conditions and relationships both in the world and in ourselves, which threaten to overwhelm what is precious in human beings. We nurture the faith that conflicts can be resolved nonviolently, that enmity can be transformed into friendship, strife into cooperation, poverty into well-being, and injustice into dignity and participation. We believe that ultimately goodness can prevail over evil, and oppression in all its many forms can give way.

AFSC Values

We cherish the belief that there is that of God in each person, leading us to respect the worth and dignity of all. We are guided and empowered by the Spirit in following the radical thrust of the early Christian witness. From these beliefs flow the core understandings that form the spiritual framework of our organization and guide its work.

We regard no person as our enemy. While we often oppose specific actions and abuses of power, we seek to address the goodness and truth in each individual.

We assert the transforming power of love and nonviolence as a challenge to injustice and violence and as a force for reconciliation.

We seek and trust the power of the Spirit to guide the individual and collective search for truth and practical action.

We accept our understandings of truth as incomplete and have faith that new perceptions of truth will continue to be revealed both to us and to others.

"The Making of a Quaker Atheist," by George Amoss, Jr.

George Amoss, Jr., who writes widely, explains in an essay how he became a Quaker and an atheist.

His essay starts

How did I come to be a Quaker and an atheist?

I was raised as neither; my early life was filled with faith in God and a fascination with the Catholic priesthood and "the religious life"--life under vows in an order of friars or monks. It was not until young adulthood that I began to abandon my dream of that life, when I lost my faith in the Catholic Church and its God.

That faith was lost when, as the military attempted to conscript me, the Church, in the grip of the nationalism that had placed the flag next to Christ's tabernacle and engraved "Pro Deo et Patria" over our parochial school's door, would not support my conscientious objection to participation in war. When "Holy Mother Church"could insist that I violate my conscience and obey orders to maim and kill, I could not but question her authority.

To my surprise, I found that she could not withstand intense questioning: she claimed Jesus Christ as her cornerstone, but a study of Jesus' recorded teachings on violence revealed her to be in error. The stone removed, the sanctuary crumbled.

As the dust cleared, I was shocked to find that the sanctuary had been empty. The Christian God, my God, was revealed as the Church's creation, a fresco on a now-fallen wall. He had terrified me at times, but he had been the heart of my world; he had loved me, and I had loved him. My life ached with longing for my lost God.

Devastated by his death, I turned to Buddhism, a faith founded, like Christianity, on a profound reaction against human suffering. Whereas Jesus had expected that God would quickly end all suffering by creating a new world, the Buddha had taught a way for us to overcome pain here and now. Buddhism sought spiritual liberation through one's own efforts, but it left open the possibility of God. Captivated, I pored over sutras, Zen dialogues, and Madhyamika dialectics. And I learned to allow my mind to become still in zazen meditation, a practice that later enriched my Quaker worship.

But Buddhism lacked an activist social conscience, and it lacked the person of Jesus. Moved by Jesus' vision of the Kingdom of God, a transformed world of peace, justice, and well-being, and sensing that his crucifixion symbolized a divine self-emptying at the heart of all things, I began to study the works of scripture scholars and contemporary theologians, hoping to find a way to believe in his presence again. For a dozen years, I struggled to work out both a theology of a suffering, kenotic God and an exegesis that would make New Testament eschatology something other than a barrier to belief. It was an effort that, despite my hopes, would ultimately fail; for a time, however, both disciplines being elastic, it provided a canvas for a Christocentric faith.

It was during that time that I began to worship among Friends at Little Falls Meeting in Maryland.

Drawn by curiosity about my ancestors, who are buried in the Meeting's cemetery, and about Friends' beliefs and practices, I visited the meetinghouse one day when it was unoccupied. My eye was caught by a lettered wooden sign posted by the door; it testified to a belief, "based on the life and teachings of Jesus," in working for peace and equality. Feeling in sympathy with that statement, I joined the small group of Friends for worship on the next Sunday. When I was invited to stay for the business meeting afterward, I accepted, and my life was changed.

He describes his interest in George Fox, concluding,

Quaker practice "works" only when love is paramount, as it was in the business meeting I witnessed at Little Falls. When individual and group desires are "brought low" under love's leading, all participants in the process are equal, and the community's primary goal is not to judge but to love each other. In such a gathered meeting, there can be no tension between individualand group objectives, nor need or place for authority. The circle is dissolved.

And there I found the key: Quaker practice is nothing more or less than the actualization of love.

Love, available to all, is our Light on the way and our sole basis for unity: that is the central lesson of the Quaker experience. And silent worship is the womb of our corporate life. As we open ourselves in worship to loving as Jesus loved, we become one spirit and accomplish things great and small without striving or contention. Ultimately, belief in supernatural beings is unnecessary. Our strength, our vision, and our unity derive solely from the love in our hearts.

If some of us, at least, can no longer claim supernatural guidance, it is nonetheless true that our Quaker worship continues to center our lives in love, empowering us to live compassionately and courageously. And if we can no longer aspire to live as perfected beings in the Kingdom of God here and now, it is nonetheless true that the witness and work of Friends for relief of suffering, equality of persons, tolerance, freedom, peace, and justice continue to make the world a better place for countless people. The lives of Friends today and throughout our history prove that, whether Christ lives or not, what Fox believed to be Christ's voice within the human heart is real. From the beginning, Friends have known experientially that something in us seeks Jesus' Kingdom of God, and that through our uniquely powerful practice of waiting together upon its inspiration, we bring that something, that holy spirit of human love, to the fore, strengthening our dedication to discerning its voice and living as it leads us. In so doing, we become, corporately and severally, the living Christ.

In sharing that conviction, that experience, I am a Quaker.

In the Quaker Electronic Archive, other of Amoss's views are explained.