We Are Moved to Act

West Richmond Friends
Feb 10
6 min read

Sermon for worship on the 1st day of the Second Month, 2026 by Matthew Ciske

Friends, good morning,

I am grateful to be joined this chilly Sunday on the facing bench by members of the Witness and Service Committee. I am mindful that the Gifts and Leadings Committee met last Sunday to discuss your survey responses.

When I began preparing this sermon two weeks ago, I had planned to follow the lectionary and talk about what happened in the Temple the day that Jesus was presented in accordance with the law of Moses.

Events and actions in which I took part in Minneapolis intervened.

In our Scripture today, God redefines true fasting as an action that mirrors God’s heart, rejecting empty ceremony.

True fasting becomes comprehensive liberation and confrontation of evil.

Yokes symbolize burdens that are imposed by others, and God demands their removal.

Feeding the hungry, providing shelter and clothing, and caring for one’s family (however defined) are forms of active mercy that mirror the heart of God.

And what is in it for us?

The four commands here lead to four blessings: hope and renewal as unmistakable light, restoration and reconciliation with God, a right standing with God achieved through faith, and comprehensive security from enemies; things that God will deliver today and tomorrow, just as God did in Isaiah’s time.

Prayer moves us from ritual to relationship, as we abandon oppression, accusation, and injurious speech.

The call in this passage is to holistic ministry, with acts of compassion and justice transforming despair and danger into joy and safety.

Sacrificial love for people is inseparable from vibrant fellowship with God; mercy given becomes light received.

For those who seek God with sincere hearts, God commits to lead every step, quench every thirst, fortify every weakness, and turn their lives into green gardens and unfailing springs. Water, as a scarce and valuable resource, becomes the image of God’s faithful and unchanging care for God’s people.

Quaker humanitarian aid worker Mark Deasley has written:

“If there is an identifiable Quaker approach to service, we could hope that it is embodied in this: that as in worship we follow the leadings of the Spirit and the Light faithfully, we are prepared to be led where it takes us—to let go of comfortable certainties and be taken into new knowledge, and also into painful and difficult experiences.

The journey is not a comfortable one for the most part—it can be terrifying at times and often leads close to despair. If we accept that there is that of God in everyone, others cannot be the objects of charity. We go prepared to encounter their full reality, and to be taught and changed by it.”¹

The yoke of oppression shouldered by people in Minnesota is neither unprecedented nor new. As Jim Bear, an indigenous speaker, noted, the region is a “place of genesis and genocide.”²

About a week and a half ago, I answered a call for faith leaders and clergy to convene in Minneapolis for two days of training and targeted action.

This group, collectively, is known for deep listening, the ability to project calm in volatile environments, and a sense of secure, rooted faith.

That the call came on the holiday that remembers the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., was likely not accidental.

I had the luxury of spiritual and logistical support. Those friends and family who could provide pastoral care, and those who could care for my dog while I was gone.

I have the clothing and gear that make standing in negative twenty-six-degree air temperatures somewhat tolerable and that could mitigate exposure to chemical irritants.

A Quaker couple in a suburb of St. Paul opened their home to me as a place to rest and reflect at the end of the day and prepare for the next.

The organizers anticipated that two hundred people could come to Minnesota on very short notice to attend events and actions that were neither announced nor described in advance. Participants would need to be screened and vetted, as the threat of infiltration by bad actors is real.

Registration was closed after more than six hundred clergy were cleared to come to the Twin Cities.

Communications and operational security are not concepts that frequently overlap with gatherings of faith leaders.

Messages were sent on encrypted platforms with many participants using pseudonyms. During in-person conversations, some introduced themselves only by first name, faith tradition, and maybe city of residence.

Details of actions and group movements were tightly controlled and were shared on a need-to-know basis.

Faith communities across the Twin Cities hosted various parts of the events, on the condition that we not reveal when and where we had been. To do so could have negative repercussions in the days and months ahead.

While preparation and organization were held close, the actions we took were not.

Law enforcement officers wear visible symbols of civil authority: gold badges, body armor, weapons, and restraints.

Participants in public witness were encouraged to wear visible symbols of moral authority; those who answered the call arrived with collars, kippahs, turbans, and hijabs. Over the warmest coats available, they wore rakusu, tallits, stoles, t-shirts, and keffiyehs.

Faith leaders are skilled at symbolic action, but they are also known for their willingness to show up and show up consistently.

We walked in pairs in neighborhoods terrorized by ICE raids, where people are yanked from cars and grabbed from bus stops. We spoke with anyone who would stop to talk to us. We dined at immigrant-owned cafes. We waved through the windows of locked businesses and at cars on the street.

We made a pilgrimage to George Floyd Square. We prayed, and I cried, at the memorial site for Renee Goode.

A large group was arrested at the airport. We sang hymns and songs of praise. We marched in small groups on Friday.

We talked about the role of clergy and faith leaders in nonviolent resistance, active noncooperation, and dismantling of the systems that support authoritarian structures. We discussed the elements of practical strategies and realistic timelines for realizing success.

As Friends, we hold that there is that of God in every person. The week of these events, the lectionary readings included a passage from Paul’s letter to the Galatians in which he addresses head-on his life of persecuting Jews before his own conversion. He comments that people who heard his message glorified God, even as “The one who formerly was persecuting us is now proclaiming the faith he once tried to destroy.”³

I hold hope that those who oppress and do violence will have a change of heart.

The first hymn we sang today, “Leaning on the Everlasting Arms,” anchors me in times of stress and uncertainty. The voices of the Louvin Brothers and Iris Dement bring me close to tears. I hummed this tune repeatedly while in Minnesota.

In 2020, when social unrest after the murders of Breonna Taylor and George Floyd rocked the country, I felt constrained by my employment and refrained from public action in the territory under my field office’s jurisdiction.

I was already struggling with tension between my faith and professional responsibilities. I expressed frustration with the situation to a very close friend, something to the effect of feeling like I was not contributing to the revolution in a meaningful way. His response was to suggest I find work in the community that addressed one of the many root causes or influences of systemic racism and inequality.

I started taking regular shifts at the regional food bank. Food inequality and nutritious food deserts are forms of systemic injustice.

This turned out not to be volunteer work. It was the work of ministry and public witness.

Our meeting has undergone a deliberate, thoughtful process to discern its vision to be a growing, vibrant congregation.

The Challenges and Opportunities Report authors recognize that “our volunteers are currently spread too thin, family units pledging annual contributions have decreased, and we have an aging demographic.”⁴

We, the pastoral ministry team, are working to reimagine community engagement in the broadest sense: within the meeting and in our city, state, and region.

Please consider the words community members might use when asked about our Meeting. Then think about how we would like that conversation to go in a year or five from now.

Many here have spoken of concern, pain, or even anger at acts of oppression and violence committed against our neighbors. These acts, done in our name, are contrary to our testimonies and are evil.

One need not drive to Minnesota to contribute to the revolution. We can have a true fast, one that mirrors the heart of God, right here within West Richmond Friends.

I invite you to share in the ministry of social concern by actively participating in the community life of the Meeting.

Serving on a committee is doing ministry. Organizing or participating in a one-time community event is ministry, too. Teaching a class is also doing ministry, as is making crafts. Contributing financially is doing ministry, and so is being present at Meeting as often as one can.

Ministry is about showing up and showing up consistently.

As we do this, our Meeting will grow in faith, spirit, and number.

We will be “like a spring of water whose waters never fail.”⁵