Keeping Faith: A How To Guide

Keeping Faith: A New Book From Women's Interfaith Network

• Women's Interfaith Network • Season 2 • Episode 3

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Can harnessing our creativity become its own act of resistance? What does it mean to keep faith in justice in unjust times? And can one person really make a meaningful difference?

This week, WIN is launching our new book of women’s writing, ‘Keeping Faith: 20 Years of Women's Interfaith Network’, a collection of essays reflecting on how we keep faith in what matters to us in a world where faith feels hard to find. Our authors include faith leaders, artists, activists, leaders from across the voluntary and community sector, members of our WIN community, and voices of all faiths and no faith. This book celebrates 20 years of Women's Interfaith Network at a time where interfaith work feels more vital than ever before.

In this episode, you’ll hear extracts and short interviews from four of our authors – zine artist Ioana Simion (Artizine UK), Rabbi Daisy Bogod, Reverend Helen Burnett, and Josephine Namusisi Riley from Citizens UK's Parent Action - who share their insights on Keeping Faith in Justice, Keeping Faith in Creativity, Keeping Faith in Activism and Keeping Faith in Community.

Keeping Faith: A How-To Guide was created as part of Women’s Interfaith Network's 2024-2025 Keeping Faith Programme. Read more about the programme here and be the first to hear about upcoming events and ways to get involved by signing up to our newsletter. Views expressed on this podcast are the speaker’s own and may not reflect the views of Women’s Interfaith Network.

Hosted by Maeve Carlin

Produced by Maeve Carlin and Adam Brichto

Edited by Adam Brichto

Executive Produced by Lady Gilda Levy

Theme music composed by Jamie Payne

Logo and Artwork designed by Jasey Finesilver

Support from Tara Corry

Maeve Carlin: Welcome to Keeping Faith: A How To Guide, a new podcast from Women’s Interfaith Network exploring how women keep faith in ourselves, in each other, in a cause, or in religious faith, so you can learn how to keep faith too. 

I’m your host, Mave Carlin, and in this special episode we're announcing something we've been working on behind the scenes at Women's Interfaith Network for the past year - a new book of women's writing, ‘Keeping Faith: 20 Years of Women's Interfaith Network’ - which captures some of the conversations we've been having in this podcast and beyond, on how we keep faith in what matters to us in a world where faith sometimes feels hard to find. 

Our authors include faith leaders, artists, activists, leaders from across the voluntary and community sector, members of our WIN community, and voices of all faiths and no faith. This book celebrates 20 years of Women's Interfaith Network at a time where interfaith work feels more vital than ever before. A snapshot of where we are now and our hopes for the future.  

In this episode, you're going to hear extracts and short conversations from four of our amazing authors from the book. Rabbi Daisy Bogod reflects on keeping faith in justice in unjust times. Josephine Namusisi-Riley, who leads parent action - a Citizens UK Project based in South London - shares her journey to Keeping Faith in Community. Artist and zine facilitator, Ioana Simion, who runs Artizine UK and created the cover art for this book, gives us her insights on Keeping Faith in Creativity. And finally, Reverend Helen Burnett share her vision of ‘Active Hope’ for her chapter on Keeping Faith in Activism. 

We're so excited for you to hear a little glimpse into what makes this book, this project, and this community so special. So let's jump in with our first reading on Keeping Faith in Justice from Rabbi Daisy Bogod. 

 

Rabbi Daisy Bogod: I am writing these words at a time when I feel more despair than hope, lost in the uncertainty of who is willing to raise their voice in dissent of the status quo, and who is not. I suppose the fact that I continue to write, the fact that WIN is collating these narratives and stories of hope and pain and success is what fuels my faith.  

I am endlessly inspired and pushed and irritated and challenged by other people, and they hold my hope when it is too much for me and in turn, I hold it for them when they are in the depths of despair.

The Jewish tradition is rich with texts speaking to the need to seek justice: ‘Justice, justice you shall pursue’ (Devarim 16:20) is one of the verses of Torah used as a rallying cry in all sorts of different movements and protests. And actually, the Torah itself, and later Jewish literature to the minutest detail, is full of instructions and laws which explain what justice looks like. They are, however, written by a group of men with their own agenda, however universalist they try (at times) to be.

We are commanded in Vayikra: 

​‘And when you reap the harvest of your land, you shall not reap all the way to the edges of your field, or gather the gleanings of your harvest; you shall leave them for the poor and the stranger: I the Eternal am your God.’ (Vayikra 23:22)

 The gleanings are the scraps left for the outsiders: for the poor, the stranger, the widow. My legacy as a Jew is one of the outside and, as a woman, as a disabled person, if our stories are told in our texts, it is not through our own words. All that is left is the forgotten fragments.

But what a gift that is – what a gift it is to be able to gather the remnants of the harvest, of our history, to take the best and wrestle with the worst of our tradition and be able to offer it as something both ancient and new. In this messy world we all live in, weaving the scraps left behind by our ancestors alongside our teachers from all different backgrounds is, for me, how we find our way forwards.

Maeve Carlin: Rabbi Daisy, thank you for sharing that gift with us. That was so beautiful.

I was struck by how, as a rabbi, you have to do more than just keeping faith for yourself. What's it like for you to keep faith with and for a congregation who will have their faith challenged and restored in their own ways and at different moments through their lives? 

Rabbi Daisy Bogod: This is such an excellent question, and one I feel vastly unqualified to answer, having been a congregational rabbi for a few weeks shy of a year. But it's been a challenging year for many people in our community, particularly with regards to their health. And I am really struck by how differently people have responded and how strong their faith can be. Yet, my initial response to your question was what I think of as the very Jewish analytical response asking, well, what do Jews think about faith? Is it a Jewish concept? 

I think that having moved away from any kind of reward, punishment, or interventionist theology as progressive Jews, it allows more scope for faith not to be challenged by personal circumstances, though of course it still happens. But faith in Judaism doesn't have any of the connotations of unwavering unquestioning belief or reliance on God, at least for me.

When in a few weeks’ time at Rosh Hashanah, Jewish New Year, we read the story known as The Binding of Isaac, where Abraham goes to sacrifice his son at God's command, stopped mere seconds before the act by a messenger from God. I would never present it as good that Abraham has this unquestioning, devout faith, far from it.

There's a poem actually by Yehuda Amichai, which says, in translation: "I declare with perfect faith that prayer preceded God. Prayer created God. God created human beings. Human beings create prayers that create the God that creates human beings." And I love this. I love that acknowledgement that God is a construct by human beings coming from the place of our pain and our joy, and yet that doesn't negate God's existence, but reinforces it.

Because it's not necessarily God that I turn to in order to keep faith. It's other people who wrestle with all the ups and downs life throws at them and decide, for the most part, to keep going because they recognize goodness around us and have hope for a better future. So in some ways, I'm a conduit for other people to question or challenge their faith, but I certainly have moments of despair.

But together we plug the gaps, even if it's only by continuing to turn up for each other. And that's something that my community really does. 

Maeve Carlin: Everything you said there taps into these threads that come out time and time and again when we record the podcast: the idea that you actually cannot keep faith in isolation, you can only keep faith in relationship with others.

And also, you can't talk about keeping faith without talking about the times when you lose it or the times you feel despair or you feel like you've lost that thread. And it's so often other people that show you a way to find it again. Um, and also the idea that they can be a thing that we interrogate and we pick apart, and that that's part of it all as well.

I think that's a really lovely perspective to have, so thank you. 

Rabbi Daisy Bogod: Thank you. 

Maeve Carlin: I know your piece is a longer answer to this question, and I hope people will pick up the book and read it, but for those of us listening now, how do we keep faith in justice in unjust times? 

Rabbi Daisy Bogod: It's not easy, but I think that there are two ways.

Uh, firstly, I get really angry when people give up and say that it's not worth it anymore, that they're going to stop, for example, engaging in their Judaism because the extremists have won. It's a righteous anger, which I know means that I still have faith, even if it's very deep down, and even if I've also thought about giving up.

And the second is that I really try to hold onto the idea that humans are innately good. People do bad things, they're not bad people, and we're all acting out of our own unmet needs. Maybe it's different for those in power, but for the rest of us, I really believe that we can learn to do better. What's really hard is the work to get us there.

My, uh, friend just got back from a summer, uh, looking at peace-building stuff in Israel-Palestine, and she came back with a new slogan, which is: “There's no Hope. There's work.” And there's a Jewish teaching that you hold, uh, two pieces of paper in your pocket. One which says "The world was created for me" and one which says "I am but dust and ashes.". And I think that my approach to keeping faith is a little bit like that. That in one hand I have her mantra of like, "There is no hope. There is only work." And in the other hand, I have, "All we have is hope". Uh, and sometimes I flip between them, but we need them both to kind of help us keep going.

Maeve Carlin: We really do need both. Thank you Rabbi Daisy for sharing that with us.

Our next reading is from Josephine Namusisi Riley, on Keeping Faith in Community.  

Josephine Namusisi-Riley: So I came to the UK in 1990 and the first thing that hit me was peace and Kentucky Fried Chicken! But I needed to survive so I got a job as a chambermaid at a hotel cleaning 30 rooms a day. Despite the challenges of navigating the immigration system, I eventually got permission to work and started volunteering at the Citizen’s Advice Bureau while being trained as an advice worker. This took 6 months and eventually I got my first proper job as an adviser. I worked in Dalston and Kensington and Chelsea. I remember wondering why everyone in King’s Road looked beautiful and even the lemonade tasted different there! 

Because of the impact of HIV and AIDS on my community, I moved on to work in the HIV sector for over 15 years. I started as a Development Worker supporting African communities to reduce isolation, cope with stigma and access services. I think we did such an amazing job and things improved but investment in HIV started declining so I was made redundant.

Since then, I have worked in two other organisations, but I want to focus on my current role at Parent Action. After I was made redundant a second time, I was 50 years old and I was burnt out! I remember asking God to help me to find the right job. In the meantime, I found a manual job in East London, so poorly paid that I had to learn to cycle to save money on transport costs. I cycled every day from Brixton, where I live, to Hackney. My family were constantly worrying that one day I might not return due to an accident on the road, and I did have a few near misses. This is London after all. 

Then one day, I met an ex-colleague who asked me where I was working now, and I just said I was waiting for the right job. A couple of months later, she sent me a Senior Project Manager’s role at Parent Action (previously PACT or Parents And Communities Together), and I only had a couple of days before the closing date. I believe God led me to this work. The project was set up in Southwark after listening to parents of young children, early years professionals, community and faith leaders, and finding out that isolation and mental health were the top challenges. Through ongoing listening and giving opportunities to parents, together we develop activities to reduce isolation, improve maternal mental health and give children a better start in life. My combined lived and professional experience helps me to lead with passion, faith and kindness.

Maeve Carlin: Well, Josephine, your peace takes us on an autobiographical journey from your childhood in Uganda, to your work supporting communities in South London with Parent Action.

What was it like for you reflecting on your personal journey for this piece? 

Josephine Namusisi-Riley: First of all, I was pleasantly surprised, really surprised and honoured, um, to be asked and to be given the opportunity to contribute. Often these opportunities are given to more influential people, you know, kind of famous people.

Um, but it was a gift, um, to look at my journey through the lens of faith. I then realized that I often share snippets of my story or my journey with those around me, but I, I use the same lens without noticing that it was the faith lens because most of them are about overcoming challenges or difficulties, and to me that is only possible by the grace of God.

I usually just share my personal experience without acknowledging the role of faith, where I actually draw my strength, and all the resources I draw upon: whether it's friends, family therapy, prayer. There's a way to engage with them in order to know and feel, uh, the benefits of that grace. So I consider my vulnerabilities to also be my strengths in a way, like two sides of the same coin.

At times I felt a little bit disjointed while I was trying to kind of decide or to choose what to include, but it was a really, really wonderful process that further helped me to appreciate the role of faith in my life. 

Maeve Carlin: And it's such a beautiful piece to read and reflect back on. And I, I think you're so right. Our vulnerabilities are our strengths, aren't they? And yeah, unless we shine a light on the incredible work that's being done in grassroots organisations, we don't hear those stories and they really need to be told. 

Josephine Namusisi-Riley: Well, thank you. 

Maeve Carlin: So thank you for sharing with us. 

It really captures the twists and turns so many of us take before we find our role, the way that we can really make a difference in our community.

What would you say to someone listening who's still on that journey and is struggling to keep faith along the way? 

Josephine Namusisi-Riley: You know, for me, my faith is a a, a moving spectrum. I believe the spirit of God resides in all of us. It resides within us, and most of us will know deep within us what is good and what is bad, what is right, and what is wrong.But we often ignore or choose to find arguments against the spirit. Really, it's human nature. Also the right decision is often hard. Uh, it's the most difficult one, but actually it is the one that if you persevere, that brings you inner peace. 

So I would say to somebody that we are all on the journey. I'm still on the journey, but to trust your instinct or intuition, even when hardships prevail. The strength in flexing, bit like being a bike chain. Be open to learning, looking at different perspectives. Ask the questions through prayer or reflection, and allow time for silence and stillness. I believe that angels come in human form. Listen. Between silence, stillness, and openness, I think the human spirit will persevere.

We keep moving and we keep growing. As I said, we are all on a journey and on the spectrum when it comes to faith, sometimes it's clear and strong and other times less so. It's part of being human. So just be kind to yourself. 

Maeve Carlin: Be kind to yourself. What a brilliant note to end on. Thank you so much, Josephine.

Josephine Namusisi-Riley: Thank you.

Maeve Carlin: We’re now going to here from our cover artist and author of our chapter on Keeping Faith in Creativity, Ioana Simion. 

Ioana Simion: Creativity doesn’t demand grand gestures; it asks for small moments that we carve out for ourselves. These might take the form of rituals, hobbies, a good conversation with a friend, or taking yourself somewhere new. Whatever helps us feel grounded, calm, or more accepting of ourselves becomes an entry point. These everyday acts are portals into more authentic versions of who we are or who we want to become. They open up space for possibility. They nurture the dream world within us. And yet we often forget that we’re entitled to dream, to play, to be soft, to learn from ourselves at our own pace. 

Creativity doesn’t require you to produce anything. At its core, it’s about being in tune—with yourself, with your emotions, with the world around you—through a set of tools, whatever those may be: visual arts, music, writing, dancing, conversation. The object of creation is almost secondary; it’s a trace, a tangible proof of something deeper. What becomes truly invaluable is the state you were in while creating—the focus, the freedom, the connection, the surrender. That state is the real treasure. It reminds us that creativity is not just about making things but about making meaning. 

In a world that undervalues slowness, play, softness, and non-productivity, keeping faith in your own creativity becomes a radical choice. It’s a quiet act of resistance, a way of practicing disobedience, of saying: I trust the process, even when it doesn’t produce immediate answers.  

Maeve Carlin: Well, Ioana, your piece is such a beautiful reflection on the power of creativity. In your work as a facilitator, I'm sure you hear so many people say to you, “I'm not a creative person”, or “I'm just not good at this”. How do you help someone find their creative voice when they've perhaps lost faith in that side of themselves?

Ioana Simion: Mm. Yes, you're right. Probably in almost every workshops I run, someone will quietly confess, you know, "I'm not really that creative, I'm not that good at this." But I think it's very important, specifically in the workshop space, to remind people that creativity is not about perfection. You're not coming into a space - especially my workshops - you know, we, we don't really encourage perfection. Um, it's all about that expression. And, um, I often just encourage people to start with play, you know, so we tear paper, we make a lot of marks and just a bunch of, you know, mess. And I always just encourage them to tell stories with images and fragments of other things, you know, so like find themselves in, in mess because I have this mantra that life is collage.

So, you know, in order to become more in tune with your creativity, you need to kind of make order in the mess. So find the pieces that work. So I really love encouraging people to, to be messy and to just let go for a bit. And then the good things will come, you know, maybe your first artwork's not gonna be the best, but I'm sure the second or third or fourth will, you know, shape a better understanding of who you are and what you want.

And yeah. And then I've seen participants who were hesitant, you know, to draw or write something messy or, but then that scribble or that collage that doesn't really look very good becomes very powerful. Zines are not just about beautiful visual aesthetic works. It's about a piece or something raw, unedited that speaks truth.

So yeah, that's really what I encourage people to do and that's what we really try to accomplish in, in the workshop. So yeah, you just need a safe, playful space, I think to, to become creative. 

Maeve Carlin: And having sat in workshops with you, it's really interesting how people's energy changes. At first people come in with that sort of quite cautious, you know, quite tentative and everyone just drops into it after a while and seeing people's focus change was really fascinating.

Ioana Simion: Absolutely. Uh, that's a lovely, you say that. I really appreciate it. Yeah, I think it's really coming home to yourself, but it depends on the pace you have. Some, sometimes people feel super comfortable and they just sit and they get to work. You know, they start exploring and they start cutting and pasting and, but some people might need a bit more time, but usually, you know, you will feel accepted very soon and welcomed and um, yeah I think that makes a huge difference. Tiny things like that.

Facilitation and community work is about really inviting people but putting them first and every story matters. Every person matters. I don't really encourage hierarchy in, in the workshop space. Every, everybody has something to say and that energy, I think, really makes people feel at home and arriving at a place, you know, where you feel like home.

I think I also touched about that in my essay. Community is about making people feel at home. 

Maeve Carlin: Absolutely. 

Also in your piece, you described creativity as a quiet act of resistance in a world that undervalues play. Can you give us an example, whether it's from your own practice or from projects you've led as a facilitator of what creative resistance might look like?

Ioana Simion: Yeah, that's such a beautiful question. Thank you for asking. Um, I often describe zine making as a radical yet tender tool for creating things that exist outside of capitalistic mainstream culture. And creative resistance can be bold, but also, like I said, quiet and tender. And for me, in my practice, um, I think it shows up in, in moments where people reclaim space to feel, reflect and dream. Because, especially in the systems that we are living today, those systems are trying to rush us, to silence us. So it's very important when someone finds that space to, to speak from the heart and speak and pay attention to what's going on inside. 

So yeah, moments like that and, and that can be absolutely in every workshop these things are happening. But I recently worked with some wonderful young people in East London where I live and practice, and we made together a playful manifesto and they were just sharing things that they wanna see in their neighbourhood or how they interpreted play in their everyday life, you know? And we wrote this collective poem and it was really powerful and it was full of joy and colour and kind of like this idea of like the wild imagination that we have when we are younger.

But underneath that, I think it was a powerful statement that, you know, we deserve softness, freedom, fun, all of these things, you know, in a city that I know that for me, I'm very lucky to, to live in London, to have access to many wonderful creative things and I often think of, you know, London as a playground. But I'm also aware that this place sometimes feels a bit adult centric and, you know, work centric and yeah, I think making space for collective imagination and joy is an act of, of disobedience.

I think I talked about that as well… I think playing, being resistant, being disobedient, it's, it's really important just because someone, you know, tells you to do something, you don't really have to do it. And I'm, I'm talking about small things as well. I'm not talking about big, big, huge acts, but, you know, just because for example, yeah, you go to the coffee shop, uh, like a specialty coffee thing and people say, "oh, you should not have you know, sugar in your coffee". And I'm like, no, I will have that because I just enjoy a bit of sugar, you know? 

So it's, it's, it's tiny things like this that make you feel like, you know, you have agency and, uh, but yeah, when we zine, when we draw, when we write or collage, you know, we're not just making art. We're saying we exist, we matter, and this is how I see the world and I wanna take a moment to just celebrate that. 

Maeve Carlin: And when people look at the book and hold it in their hands, they're gonna see your beautiful artwork. So yeah, really special. What inspired you when you were working on the artwork for the book?

Can you give us an insight into your own creative process? 

Ioana Simion: Thank you so much. I'm so happy you liked the cover, and it was a really beautiful opportunity for me to try something new. I've never done a cover for a book, so it's a very special, uh, commission project for me. The piece, uh, is really inspired by two main motifs in my work that I don't really speak so much about, but they are very visible. So one of them is butterflies and the sun. And I think these two symbols really speak deeply to me about transformation and this idea of like migration and life-giving energy, which I think is very important. I made a poem as well on the cover. I dunno how that's gonna translate. I haven't seen it yet. 

Maeve Carlin: It looks really good. 

Ioana Simion: So happy!

But I kept returning to this phrase like “in the warmth of the sun butterflies open their wings.” And it really, that was just like I was reflecting on this idea that butterflies don't rush. The transformation is slow, it's deliberate, it's necessary. So just like healing or reconnecting with your creativity and yeah, I like that. Um, a link between the butterfly and the sun. 

And I also included elements of an eye and the heart. Lots of like beautiful sparkly hearts. And that's a way of me saying that I believe in this kind of idea of like the deeper seeing. So the idea that maybe the heart has its own eye, and that creativity again, is not just about what we make, but what we notice, what we observe, what we see in the world. I often think that making a zine, making art, any type of art is tending to our heart space and trusting our intuition. 

And yeah, the process of doing this artwork was very gentle, very sort of instinctive. Like everything I do, I just have a huge collection of scraps and textures and materials, and I just layer them. I play with shapes and fragments of meaning. That's what I like to call them. So yeah, it was just a very beautiful, I really enjoyed making that, and I'm really happy you like it. Yeah. I hope people will feel connected to this idea of the butterfly opening its wings and letting the sun really caressing and celebrating their transformation and their life.

Maeve Carlin: Thank you so much, Ioana. 

Ioana Simion: You're welcome. Thank you.

Maeve Carlin: And now our last reading, on Keeping Faith in Activism, from Reverend Helen Burnett. 

Reverend Helen Burnett: ‘What difference will it make?’ Words spoken through tears by a teaching assistant at our local church school, she was referring to my ‘Fast for Gaza’ and Compline, which is night prayer, for Gaza the previous day. It was not an admonishment; it was a cry of desperation and bewilderment. What difference do our actions on issues of social justice, climate justice or warmongering make?

Materially and immediately, there is very rarely any visible result. The issues are so massive and the systems so corrupt, that effecting change feels like an ever-rolling David and Goliath replay, without the slingshot moment. So, why does activism continue to run through my veins and how does it relate to my faith as a Christian? 

Judy, the teaching assistant, was moved to tears because she had empathy, she felt helpless, and she recognised something in the fasting and the praying that touched a chord. The chord had resonated for her in the witnessing, and for me in the practising. In fasting and prayer, I was acting in solidarity and although they were small and taken alone, my actions were connecting me to others who were doing the same. In the evening, we could share the act of prayer in person and online. There would be ripple effects, my tiny encounter in a school corridor will have been replicated by others in conversations across the world.

In 2018, The Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change (IPCC), produced a terrifying report on the impacts of global warming of 1.5 °C above pre-industrial levels. The resulting ‘Special Report on Global Warming - 1.5 Degrees’ newspaper headlines reflected the urgency of the situation.

 

As with Gaza in 2023, 2024 and 2025, this moment in 2018 was an overwhelming reality that rocked the world; a reality that we would each respond to in different ways. The report coincided with the launch of Extinction Rebellion (the global environmental movement) and with the second year of my life as an ordained priest in the Church of England. This vocation was to take me to places that I had never imagined, including a police custody cell, and would introduce me to a whole new community of people who understood the sanctity of all life, both human and non-human, in ways that were new and exciting and yet also as old as the oldest religions. Bubbling up out of the doom-laden messaging about the climate crisis were the signs of new communities rooted in active hope.

Maeve Carlin: Thank you so much for sharing that with us, such a beautiful piece. Well you've explored how your own activism is intertwined with your faith as a Christian, but I'd love to hear what role you think interfaith solidarity plays here and how this has shaped your own journey since 2018? 

Reverend Helen Burnett: Yes. Within Extinction Rebellion, we were very keen to build those um, links between the different faiths. So we had XR Buddhists, XR Jews, XR Muslims, and I think that's a recognition that at the base of all these faiths and ones that I haven't named, there is a sense of the sanctity of life and that's what we hold in common. And sometimes we hold that more in common with those who have actually taken the step into climate activism than other members of our own faith traditions. So sometimes we are more connected to each other than we might be within our own faith communities. 

So I think the building of those bonds, for me, was very powerful. And I think especially because in my own context, there isn't an obvious interfaith community. So I was finding a new way of linking with people of other faith traditions. 

Maeve Carlin: And it reminds me of, I think we last saw each other at, uh, WIN's Keeping Faith in Climate Action events last year and seeing all these women from different traditions who had so much in common and so much to talk about because of the issues that motivated them, frightened them, drove them. There was so much commonality in the room, wasn't there? 

Reverend Helen Burnett: There was. I think you can never remove the fact that we all live on this earth and we walk upon it. We engage with it in our different ways, and we all have our foundational creation myths as well. So however we have learnt about the world may for some of us have been filtered through those myths and amazing ancient stories.

Maeve Carlin: And you capture so beautifully in your piece how taking action isn't just limited to big protest movements, which are obviously critical, but can also be small, simple gestures, which may then have bigger ripple effects. I know many of us are grappling with the same global issues you describe in your essay and wanting to take that first step into action, but perhaps feeling hesitant or not knowing where to begin.

What would you say to help people move through those feelings and step into this active hope? 

Reverend Helen Burnett: I think a lot of it's about, um, building relationships because we can feel the most despairing when we also feel the most isolated. So as soon as you embark on that conversation with maybe just one other person about how events around you are making you feel, you begin to build the very first bridges of solidarity. And I think that sense of not being alone is incredibly important to active hope.

So as with all things, it seems to me it's about community, about relationship, and I was remembering, thinking about this, going to a summer school in the University of Surrey just recently to work with refugees on interfaith matters, not related to climate in particular, but that what everybody, all those refugees from across the globe wanted to define as God was around love and peace and kindness and relationships. So these are common human values. 

Finding places where you can have those conversations. Finding small groups where you can begin to prepare maybe a walk. I suddenly have this idea with so much in the world seeming so bleak of solidarity suppers, that cooking together is so important. How do we draw together? We draw together around food.

Personally, I love to walk walking the small act of planning, a simple walk somewhere in your locality to discover maybe 2, 3, 4 points of interest. Very easy things to invite people into. Most people, if they're mobile, are able to take a walk. Most people enjoy sharing food.

And out of that come the conversations and the ideas that might lead to more mobilizing beyond the food and the walking. 

Maeve Carlin: I agree. I think it all has to start with a conversation, doesn't it? 

Reverend Helen Burnett: Those conversations can also lead to the sharing of wisdom that we have all shared in common or found. I find huge comfort in poetry. You know, maybe the sharing of a book reading. The latest book by Rob McFarlane 'Is a River Alive?' has struck me as a perfect kind of newly published book that could form the basis for reading, meeting online if necessary, to discuss. And then you don't have to come up with your own thoughts and ideas, you're responding to someone else's. And from that come new things, I think. 

Maeve Carlin: Well, Reverend Helen, thank you.

Maeve Carlin: We are so grateful to Rabbi Daisy, Josephine, Ioana and Reverend Helen for sharing their beautiful pieces and reflections with us, and to all our authors who’ve written such brave, generous essays, each with its own vision of what it means to Keep Faith. ‘Keeping Faith – 20 years of Women’s Interfaith Network’ is available now and you can find all the information and get your own copy via the link in our show notes.  

Thank you for listening to this episode of Keeping Faith: A How To Guide. Subscribe now on your podcast app to be the first to hear about our upcoming episodes, and please leave a review or share with a friend to help more people find us. To find out more about the podcast, the next phase of the Keeping Faith Programme, or to get involved with the Women’s Interfaith Network, you can follow the links in our episode notes or go to www.wominet.org.uk. Until next time, Keep Faith!

Keeping Faith: A How-To Guide was created by Women’s Interfaith Network. The podcast is co-produced by me, Maeve Carlin, and Adam Brichto. Our executive producer is Lady Gilda Levy. Theme music was composed by Jamie Payne and our logo was designed by Jasey Finesilver. Additional Support from Tara Corry.