An excerpt from my intro­duc­tion to the Decem­ber Friends Jour­nal issue on Atone­ment:

When I first sit down on a meet­ing­house bench on a Sun­day morn­ing, I’m any­thing but focused. My mind is aswirl in fam­i­ly and work to-dos, scenes from books I’ve read or shows I’ve watched, extend­ed fam­i­ly dra­mas, bills, or crises. If I’ve for­got­ten to turn off my phone, a stream of vibra­tions will nag me, each buzz demand­ing my attention.

If I con­scious­ly work to set­tle down — and am lucky or blessed — I can sink into the imper­fect silence and feel at-one with the gath­er­ing wor­ship. The sounds draw me clos­er: the rustling of Friends shift­ing soft­ly in their seats, the crack­ling of the fire­place on cool morn­ings, the wind out­side blow­ing leaves against the porch door. If we’re for­tu­nate, the offered min­istry that morn­ing will speak to our con­di­tions and bring us deep­er still, to the feet of the divine Teacher and Com­forter. We may not get there every week, but when we do, we feel at-one with one anoth­er and with a high­er power.