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The Friends (Quakers) are said to have no creed. And yet, I’d be tempted to give them one: “I doubt, therefore I act.” Most of the Friends I observe carry a kind of inner urgency. They are seeking answers. They are seekers. What does this creed mean? “I doubt”—but it almost sounds like “I believe.” Why do I believe, even when I’m not sure? Because I hear something deep within myself, something inviting me to be still, to discern the message that comes from the Light. And I listen. And I welcome it. In silence. Staying quiet is a tremendous challenge for many of our contemporaries. But it is a sine qua non condition. We must quiet our ego, silence the background noise of our thoughts.
Some might call this “prayer.” But it’s more about active listening. In silence. I try to hear—despite the inner noise—only those messages that might shed light on my path. And more than that, I believe everyone can perceive this Light within themselves. It’s not about hearing voices, or talking to them, like someone suffering from a mental illness. It’s about a deep spirituality, hidden within, revealed to each person—if they sincerely make the effort to seek it. In this process of seeking, doubt is ever-present. That’s why it’s so hard to listen to that inner voice that leads us toward the Light, which some might call God. The term “Light” is emblematic: it’s positive, above conflict and worldly concerns.
And the Friends’ worship sometimes becomes a kind of “magical” space. A gentle energy flows among those gathered. Sometimes, a Friend will stand up, feeling compelled to speak and share a “discovery” made during their inner search in worship (what we call “ministry”). These discoveries often resonate in the hearts and minds of others. When that happens, it’s incredible. It’s as if we open our eyes to something we had sensed before, but never truly understood until that moment. Our awareness opens to something familiar, yet now seen from a new perspective. And it feels new. The path toward the Light becomes clearer, less painful, less steep, lighter—with Friends gathered in worship. I feel the kindness around me and the shared intention to support one another in trying to catch the Light and reflect it into the world. We move from the inner to the outer.Ah, that outer world… The Friends I observe are not silent hermits hiding in their caves. They are global citizens, deeply attuned to current events, the sorrows and the joys of today’s world. This sometimes brings them moments of great sadness, even anger or bitterness—just like many of our fellow humans faced with illness, conflict, ecological crises, deprivation, torture, discrimination.
So what does the second part of the creed mean—“I act”? I act in worship, I act alone in my quiet reflection, I act with others when I share ministry, I act when I defend my beliefs, I act through every word and deed, in every moment. It’s both overwhelming and life-giving to think that the Light is what guides everything. For peace. For love. And it starts in everyday life, right here: At home, in the street, at the supermarket, with your neighbors, in your car, on the metro, at school, at work, in our communities. Everywhere. Whether it’s with someone close to us or a stranger asking for help—In everything, I try to move toward the Light. I doubt, therefore I act. Not easy. There are slip-ups—sometimes big ones. One Friend spoke of forgiveness. The path is long. Act anyway, and keep striving for the Light. Act with kindness, with the humility to accept criticism. Act continuously, and correct course when you’re wrong. Act—especially when the world seems upside down. Don’t give up. Every word, every gesture counts. The challenge is to maintain discernment, to find the path to the Light, to keep perspective—because I am sure of anything. I’m searching. A cult doesn’t search—it imposes a view. The Friends, it seems to me, are above all seekers. Will they adopt this creed? Just this once, maybe:
I doubt, therefore I act.
Anna Delille