The link between service and spirituality

Activism done right feels like touching the divine

(I write at length about many of the ideas below in my new book, “Fired Up: How to Turn Your Spark into a Flame and Come Alive at Any Age,” out now. Order now and get enrolled for free in Firestarter University, a year-long, online course starting in the Fall.)

There's a moment every activist recognizes: the moment when staying silent becomes impossible. For me, that moment came while I watched the news coverage of the mass shooting tragedy at Sandy Hook School in 2012, and I knew intuitively that lawmakers would—like so many mass shootings before this one—do precisely nothing in response. I also knew that all of the thoughts and prayers in the world, while well-intentioned, would not be enough to stop more shootings in the future.

What happened inside Sandy Hook School ignited my most visceral instincts, and there was no returning to the person I had been before the shooting happened. My soul had been insulted. I couldn’t stand the thought of living in a world where gun industry profits were prioritized over children’s safety. The only way to stay sane was to act. Not only because I was overwhelmed by feelings of rage and frustration, but because I had profound sense that getting off of the sidelines was as important to protecting people as it was to saving my own soul.

That inner-knowing mirrors what spiritual traditions have long recognized as the journey from self-centeredness to service. In Buddhism, it's the bodhisattva's vow to work for the liberation of all beings. In Christianity, it's the imperative to love your neighbor as yourself. In Islam, it's the concept of serving as a steward of creation. In Judaism, it’s Tikkun Olam, which translates to "repair of the world.”

Across all spiritual and religious traditions, we find the same truth: that our spiritual development is intimately connected to our commitment to justice and compassion in the world. And when we decide to listen and respond to that inner-knowing, we discover that activism is not just about transforming external issues or conditions, but transforming ourselves through the work of organizing, coalition building, and enduring setback after setback, all of which strips away our illusions about how the world works and who we are within it.

Activism demands that we cultivate patience, courage, humility, and fierce love—the same qualities spiritual practice is meant to develop.

Community as Sacred Space

I’ve learned firsthand that activism and spirituality are not separate pursuits—they’re two expressions of the same fundamental human drive toward meaning, connection, and the betterment of our world. Whether we call it divine purpose, moral imperative, or just doing what's right, the desire to fight for justice springs from the same well of human consciousness that seeks transcendence and understanding.

One of the most profound ways that activism and spirituality intertwine is through the creation of community. When I think about the volunteers who have dedicated countless hours to our movement—the moms who text bank until midnight, the survivors who share their stories despite the pain, the students who organize walkouts—I see people who have found something sacred in their shared commitment.

There's a reason that many spiritual traditions emphasize gathering together: in community, we discover aspects of ourselves and our purpose that remain hidden in isolation. The same is true in activism. When we work alongside others for a cause larger than ourselves, we tap into a collective wisdom and strength that no individual possesses alone. We become part of something that feels, in the truest sense, holy.

This community becomes a space for mutual transformation. I've watched suburban moms who had never spoken at a city council meeting find their voices and become powerful advocates. I've seen survivors of gun violence transform their trauma into a source of strength and purpose. I've witnessed lawmakers who once seemed immovable have genuine changes of heart when confronted with the human stories behind the statistics.

This is the alchemy that happens when activists come together—we change one another, and in doing so, we change the world.

Facing the Darkness

Spiritual traditions universally acknowledge that the path toward enlightenment involves confronting darkness—both within ourselves and in the world around us. Activism demands the same courage. To work for gun violence prevention, I've had to look directly at humanity's capacity for harm. I've had to hold space for unbearable grief while maintaining hope for change. I've had to confront my own limitations, prejudices, and moments of despair.

As a practicing Buddhist, I follow the Buddha's first teaching after his enlightenment—the First Noble Truth: life contains suffering. This isn't a pessimistic observation but a realistic assessment that becomes the foundation for hope. To work for gun violence prevention, I've had to look directly at humanity's capacity for harm while maintaining what Buddhism calls "beginner's mind"—the openness to possibility that prevents despair.

In my meditation practice, I’ve had to work with difficult emotions—anger, fear, grief—and learn to sit with them without being overwhelmed or becoming reactive. The clear-eyed response to injustice that motivates skillful action, and my training in Buddhism has been essential to my activism, from enduring hostile questioning from legislators to the threats of death and sexual assault from gun extremists.

This confrontation with darkness is not separate from spiritual work—it is spiritual work. When we choose to face the suffering in our world rather than turning away, when we refuse to let cynicism or fear stop us from acting, we are engaged in a fundamentally spiritual practice. We are saying that love is stronger than hate, that hope is more powerful than despair, that the arc of the universe does indeed bend toward justice—but only if we are willing to do the bending.

The Practice of Persistence

Perhaps nowhere is the spiritual dimension of activism more apparent than in the daily practice of persistence. Real change happens slowly, often imperceptibly. It requires showing up again and again, even when progress seems impossible. This incrementalism is not unlike the spiritual practice of meditation or prayer—it's about dedication to a process rather than attachment to immediate results.

Every time we make phone calls to legislators, every time we share our stories, every time we register voters or organize a rally, we are participating in a practice of faith. We are acting on the belief that our efforts matter, even when we can't see the full picture of how they contribute to change. This is the essence of spiritual practice: doing the work not because we know it will succeed, but because it is right and necessary.

Some days, the work feels like pushing a boulder up a mountain. Other days, we see breakthroughs that remind us why we persist. Both are part of the path.

Transformation Through Service

The deepest spiritual truth I've discovered through activism is that service to others is service to ourselves. When we work to create a world where people are safe and free, we are participating in our own liberation. We are freeing ourselves from the spiritual poverty that comes from indifference, from the isolation that comes from believing we are powerless, from the despair that comes from feeling that suffering is inevitable.

Buddhism teaches that enlightenment is not a personal achievement but a recognition of our fundamental interconnectedness. Every victory in our activism—every law passed, every life saved, every mind changed—is a manifestation of this truth. We succeed not because we are separate individuals fighting for our own interests, but because we remember that we are all part of the same web of existence, and that harming others ultimately harms ourselves.

This transformation through service is why activism is inherently spiritual work. It connects us to our deepest values, to our sense of purpose, and to our fellow human beings. It asks us to be our highest selves in service of the highest good. It demands that we live out our faith—whether that faith is religious or secular—through concrete action in the world.

When we answer the call to serve something greater than ourselves, we discover not just our power to change the world, but our own capacity for transformation in the process.

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