Islam from a Quaker Perspective
A Talk at Westminster Gardens, Oct. 22, 2025
Thank you for inviting me to
speak about Islam. What a joy and honor to be back with you! As you know, I am
not a Muslim, I am a Quaker, but Islam has played a significant role in my life
since 9/11, so I am happy to share my story and what I have learned about Islam
over the past 24 years from a Quaker perspective.
Prior to 9/11, I had no
contact with Muslims that I was aware of. When I saw how President Bush and
others were reacting to this tragedy, I was terrified not so much by
terrorists, but by what was happening in our nation. I could see and feel the
spirit of fear and vengeance that took hold of people, with flags flying
everywhere and calls for a War on Terrorism both at home and worldwide. Muslims
were seen as evil doers out to destroy civilization.
At the time, I was working on
a book about Gene Hoffman, a Quaker peacemaker who was my mentor. This book is
called “Compassionate Listening.” Her work inspired a Jewish activist named
Leah Green to start the Compassionate Listening Project, about which I’ll say
more later. Gene Hoffman wrote these insightful words about terrorist based on
her experience with pastoral counseling and peace making:
“Some time ago, I recognized that terrorists were
people who had grievances, who thought their grievances would never be heard
and certainly never addressed. Later, I saw that all parties to every conflict
were wounded, and that at the heart of every act of violence was an unhealed
wound. I began to search for ways we peace people might help to heal these
violence-causing wounds.”
As I prayed for guidance, the
words “Perfect love drives out fear” (1 John 4:18) came to mind and became my
mantra. What would love lead me to do to heal the wounded in these dark times? Realizing
that Ramadan was about to start, I decided to fast as Muslims do: refraining
from food and water from sunrise to sunset. I also made a commitment to read
the entire Qu’ran during Ramadan. And I reached out to the local mosque to get
to know my Muslim neighbors.
This was a life-changing
experience. When my Muslim neighbors heard that I was fasting and reading the
Quran, they were elated. They also appreciated that I was reaching out to them
in friendship during this challenging time when they were being demonized. I
was invited to the homes of Muslim families for a fast-breaking meal called an iftar
and became acquainted with Muslim hospitality. This was the beginning of
beautiful friendships that have deepened over the years.
I started attending gatherings
of Muslims, like the Muslim Public Affairs Council, where I heard and got to
know prominent Muslim leaders like Maher Hatthout, Hassan Hathout, Shakeel
Syed, Hussam Ayloush, and Sherrel
Johnson.
I wrote a pamphlet called
“Islam from a Quaker Perspective” in which I tried to explain Islam to Quakers
and Quakers to Muslims. It was published by Quaker Universalist Fellowship and
translated into German. The pamphlet was later incorporated into a book of
essays I edited called “Quakers and the Interfaith Movement.” I even wrote a science fiction novel with a
Muslim protagonist called “The Relics of America: The Fall of the American
Empire.” I have brought copies of these books if you are interested.
I began my first Ramadan fast
on November 17, 2001. In addition to fasting,
I also made a commitment to read the entirety of Abdullah Yusuf Ali’s monumental work, The Meaning of the Holy
Qur’an, which was highly recommended by Muslims.
During the weeks that followed,
I visited both Shi’ite and Sunni mosques and joined in communal prayers. I also
incorporated some Muslim prayers into my daily religious practice. Using
Michael Sell’s translation, I learned to say the opening prayer of the Qur’an
in Arabic:
In the name of God, the
compassionate, the caring,
bi smi
llahi r-rahmani
r-rahim,
praise be to God , lord
sustainer of the worlds
al-hamdu lillahi rabbi l-’alamin
master of the day of reckoning, maliki yawmi d-din
to you we turn to worship
iyaka na’budu
and to you we turn in time of
need
wa iyaka nasta’in
lead us on the
straight road
ihdina s-sirata l-mustaqim
the road of those you have given to whom
sirata l-ladina an’amta ‘alayhim not those with anger upon
them ghayri maghdubi
‘alayhim
not those who have gone astray.
wa la d-dalin.*
This prayer sums up the
essence of Islam and is to Muslims what the Lord’s prayer is to Christians. By
the way, there is nothing in this prayer that Christians could disagree with
and nothing in the Lord’s prayer that Muslims would disagree with! Each day I rose
before dawn, prayed this and other prayers, ate breakfast, and studied the
Qur’an. I prayed at least five times each day, facing north (the direction of
Mecca for those in California) and bowing with forehead to the ground in the Muslim
manner. When I told Muslims that I was observing Ramadan, they were extremely
pleased and impressed. They were not only eager to discuss Islam with me, but
they also wanted to know more about my Quaker faith. Observing Ramadan thus
became an opening for what the Quaker scholar and ecumenist Douglas Steere
called “mutual irradiation”— the sharing of the “Light that enlightens all men
and women” (John 1:9).
The most common reason that
Muslims gave for fasting during Ramadan was that it helps us to empathize with
those who are poor and don’t have enough food and water. Others spoke of
self-discipline, or of religious obligation. A Muslim physician and religious
leader from Orange County, California, named Maher Hathout pointed out that the
ability to fast—to delay gratification—is what distinguishes human beings from
animals. It is also a test of faithfulness and integrity since only God knows
if we are truly fasting or sneaking food when no one is looking!
Many Muslims seemed
surprised that a non-Muslim
American had the self-discipline to
fast. Sad
to say, we Americans are seen as an extremely self-indulgent people,
given to compulsive overeating and to
equally compulsive dieting. When we diet, we generally do
it for selfish reasons—to improve our health or our appearance. Fasting,
on the
other hand, is discipline that helps us to become unselfish and spiritually healthy. As the Greek Orthodox saint John Chrysostom observed: “Fasting is medicine” (Homilies, III. ca. 388 C.E.) Practiced with humility, fasting helps to free us of our addictive behaviors, and can deepen our connection with God and with our fellow
human
beings—especially with those who are poor and
hungry.
I learned this lesson very
keenly one afternoon when
the hunger pangs became so intense, and my energy level
so low, that I had to quit work at four o’clock.
I walked to a nearby park to watch the sun set (which seemed
to take forever).
My throat parched,
and my belly rumbling, I
realized that I
could break my fast and
end my discomfort at any time, whereas hundreds
of millions of people (most
of them children
and mothers) don’t have this option.
That night, after my
meal, I sat down and wrote checks to
charitable organizations with more
joy
than
I have ever before experienced. Fasting, I
discovered, can do wonders to stimulate compassion and the urge to be charitable.
I have been fasting
during Ramadan ever since, except for the year of COVID. In fact, I was led to
make a commitment to fast during Ramadan until there is peace in the Middle
East, so I probably will be fasting for the rest of my life, God willing and
health permitting.
This act of reaching
out to Muslims led me to go to Muslim and interfaith gatherings that
transformed my life. My email monicker became interfaithquaker@aol.com and I started giving workshops on
interfaith peacemaking at Quaker gatherings. Over 20 years ago I became
involved with Interfaith Communities United for Justice and Peace, which was
started right after 9/11 by religious leaders such as Rabbi Beerman, Rev. James
Lawson, Steve Rohde, Meher Hathout, Rev. George Regas and other prominent
religious leaders. Its motto is “religious communities must stop blessing war
and violence.” We meet every Friday morning to hear speakers on social justice,
we organize events and vigils, and some of us have gotten arrested protesting
war. It was at ICUJP that I met Viriginia Classic, my friend and co-conspirator
for peace and justice.
During the years I have
stood in solidarity with the Muslim community as we advocated to end torture,
release prisoners from Guantanamo, and end apartheid and genocide in
Israel/Palestine. One of the most memorable experiences I had was visiting a
Muslim being held in detention on Terminal Island on trumped up charges. He was
a deeply spiritual man and never expressed bitterness or anger about how he had
been mistreated. We saw each other through a glass darkly, unable to touch, but
we felt each other’s hearts. A couple of years later I was praying at a Muslim
gathering and at the end of our prayers, I saw him, felt a surge of joy, and we
embraced. He was finally free! I felt that as if the gates of paradise had opened
and God was smiling upon us.
I also went to Israel/Palestine with the Compassionate Listening Project in
2005. The delegation was led by two brilliant women—a Muslim lawyer named Maha El-Tajik and a Jewish activist
named Leah Green who has become a dear friend. We listened to Israelis and
Palestinians who were working for peace. We also listened to heart-breaking
stories of parents who’d lost children to this conflict. I came to appreciate
the power of compassionate, non-judgmental listening. When traumatized people
tell their stories and feel heard, their hearts are changed. This is an
important aspect of peacemaking. If you’d like to know more, I suggest you
check out the compassionate listening website or read my book. I’m also happy
to answer questions.
In addition to peace
and justice work, I was also interested in the spiritual side of Islam and
wrote a pamphlet about Sufism and Quakerism, based on my experience with
various Sufi communities in Philadelphia, New Mexico and here in Southern
California.
Outwardly, Quakerism
(the mystical branch of Christianity) and Sufism (the mystical branch of Islam)
may seem worlds apart. Sufism is associated with dervish dancing, exotic Middle
Eastern music, and the ecstatic poetry of Rumi. Quakerism is associated with
peace activists, plain-dressed people sitting in silent worship, and William
Penn, the founder of Pennsylvania, and the icon of oatmeal. But there are deep
affinities between these two spiritual paths, and it is no accident that
Quakerism and Sufism refer to its practitioners as “Friends.”
I published my pamphlet
as a series of blog entries exploring the similarities between these spiritual
paths and suggest how they can help us to become more intimately connected with
our true selves and with Reality. These mystical paths also have a prophetic
dimension—a social witness against materialism and injustice--that is much
needed in today’s world. We live at a time when most people in the industrial
world inhabit a “virtual reality”—a world of television, movies, and the
internet—a world where we are defined by what we buy rather than who or what we
are. In this unreal world of compulsive consumerism, we become addicted to our desires
and eventually become prey to fears and anxieties. These fears become the seeds
of bigotry, violence and war.
Mysticism, as practiced by Quakers and the Sufis, can help free us from our
fears and our addictions and lead us onto the path of true freedom. As we come
to know who we truly are and become acquainted with our true self, we can also
form deep, life-transforming relationships with others, based on the
realization that each person is sacred and therefore worthy of our deepest
attention and respect. This is the way of Friends.
Sufism is the mystical heart of Islam. It emerged in the 8th century CE as an
Islamic ascetic movement. Some scholars see connections between Sufism,
Buddhism and Christianity and no doubt such connections exist, but most Sufis
see their practice as deeply rooted in Islam. Early practitioners of Sufism
include Hasan al-Basri (642-728) and Rabiah al-Adawiay (d. 801), the first
great female Sufi teacher and poet. Perhaps the most famous Sufi is Jalal a-din
Rumi who founded the Mevlevi order (known as whirling dervishes) and has become
the most popular poet in America, thanks to Coleman Barks’ imaginative
translations. Sufis played a political role in Islamic history, often standing
up for the rights of the poor and oppressed. Sufism has also encouraged women
to be spiritual teachers and leaders.
I could tell many
stories of wonderful encounters with Sufis, but I will limit myself to just
one. I once attended a Sufi gathering in Los Angeles where everyone formed a
circle chanting in Arabic the name and attributes of God. This practice is
called zikr, which means “remembering.” When the chanting was over, I went to a
man and asked, “What is Sufism all about?” He smiled and said, “Why don’t you
ask my wife. She’s over there.” So I asked her the same question, and she
smiled and responded, “God is right here,” pointing to her heart. Her response
touched my Quaker heart.
If you want to know
more about Sufism and Quakerism, I suggest you check out my blog.
Speaking of the heart
of Islam, I’d like to share a moving story about an experience I had with a
Muslim friend just after the death of my wife Katheen Ross, a Methodist pastor.
After she passed in the May of 2009, I became aware that Ramadan was going to
take place in August. (Because Islam uses a lunar calendar, Ramadan occurs 10-12
days earlier each year.) I was having coffee with my dear friend Shakeel Syed,
a leader in the Muslim community in Southern California, who had visited my
wife in ICU and been very supportive of us. I told him that I’d like to attend
an iftar during Ramadan and wondered if one was taking place in the Culver City
mosque. He told me it wasn’t but proposed an alternative. “Because of my duties
I am busy every day of Ramadan, except for the first day. That’s when I spend
time with my family. You can join us then.” I was very moved by his gracious offer
and grateful for the chance to experience Muslim hospitality with his
delightful family—his wife, son and two daughters. At the end of dinner, I
joined them for evening prayers and when the formal prayers were over, Shakeel lifted
up his hands and offered what Muslims call dua—a special supplication to God.
“Dear God,” he said. “Please show mercy to our dear Uncle Anthony and to his beloved
wife Kathleen who is in Paradise.” As you can imagine, I was moved to tears. I
felt I had experienced the heart of the Islamic faith.
I’d like to end by
describing where my current experience with Muslims since the tragedy of
October 7. I joined in vigils that took place in front of Representative Judy
Chu’s office every week. I held up a sign with the logo of the American Friends
Service Committee calling for a ceasefire, an arms embargo, and an end to the
blockade of Gaza. At first, only a few people attended these vigils but soon
there were dozens and then hundreds. We started attending city council meetings
in such numbers that the mayor finally decided to call a special meeting at the
Pasadena Convention Center in April 2024. Over 600 people took part, and 200 of
us gave one-minute public comments. After four tumultuous hours, the Pasadena
City Council unanimously approved a resolution calling for a ceasefire, return
of hostages and expedited humanitarian aid. Soon afterwards, Judy Chu was one
of around 50 Congress members who refused to sign a bill providing military aid
to Israel. This was a significant win.
We continue to meet
every Monday in front of the post office on Colorado Blvd and then go to the
City Council and speak out during public comment, calling for our city to
divest from companies profiting from the genocide in Gaza. We have met with
elected officials and helped craft a resolution that will go before the
Council, hopefully very soon. Our passionate prophetic persistence is paying
off!
Our interfaith vigils often include times of prayer that are powerful and deeply spiritual. Muslims, Jews and Christians take part. My respect for the Muslim community has deepened during this crisis. Despite the daily atrocities being committed against Muslims (and Christians) by the Israelis, and despite the unconscionable and unwavering support of our government for genocide, I have not heard an antisemitic or anti-Jewish comment by my Muslim friends. Yes, they are angry and critical of Zionism and the Unites States, but they are never anti-Jewish or hateful. My dear friend Hedab Tarifi is a Muslim leader born in Gaza who has lost over 150 members of her family during this genocide. She always emanates love. She says, “My religion teaches me that I can be angry about injustice, but I must never hate.”
This, to me, is the heart of Islam and of true religion. And I am deeply
grateful for my Muslim brothers and sisters for showing me, a Quaker, how to practice the
way of justice and love.
