I used to teach second grade at an inner city elementary school in Vallejo, California. I was teaching there when the riots occurred in Los Angeles in response to the initial verdict acquitting four police officers who had beaten Rodney King.  That morning, I interrupted the usual routine to invite the students to discuss what was happening.  Many of my students, who were mostly of African, Filipino, Mexican, and East Indian descent, told story after story of their own experiences of racism.

I was at the FGC offices in Philadelphia when the Twin Towers were hit.  We watched together as the first tower burned, believing that it was some kind of freak accident. When the second plane struck, I was incredulous for a while that this could have been intentional. I had a physical response – of astonishment, of sorrow, of grief.  We as staff gathered together in worship, then dispersed, clutching for our families, for sanctuary, for news.

There’s an old Quaker joke: a first time visitor comes to meeting for worship and arrives just after the close of meeting.  The visitor asks, “So, when does the service begin?”

The meeting member replies, “Now.”