Southwest Conference Blog

What’s Up With the Dog?

guest post by Carol Reynolds, pastor at Scottsdale Congregational UCC

If you’ve been to church recently, you’ve probably noticed that there’s a new…um…tail in town. And perhaps you’ve also wondered aloud or to yourself, “What’s up with that? What’s up with the dog?” After all, the annual animal blessing is still another couple of months off. Typically that’s the only time we see animals inside the church. Well, the dog’s name is Brandi, and she is a special pooch. I know, I know, all of our pets are special. But, as Zach, a few other people, and I discovered several weeks ago, Brandi possesses spiritual gifts.

Brandi was originally Robert’s dog. He and partner Zach adopted her together 6 years ago, when she was 5-6 years old. She was a stray they found at the PetSmart adoption center. For 6 years, as Robert navigated life in a wheelchair, with a trach, and many, many health complications, Brandi was his faithful companion. She didn’t get bored. She was perfectly happy to be by his side and love on him and whomever else happened to be in the house. She’d bark a lot when you first arrived, but soon she’d be curled up on your lap like a teddy bear, her bark way worse than her bite.

When Robert entered hospice this summer, it seemed like the right time to bring Brandi on a pastoral visit. In my experience, our companion animals know us so intimately and can thus provide comfort and healing in a very powerful way. So I proposed the idea to Zach, and he readily agreed. We’d head up to Peoria after worship and Diving Deeper. Sure enough, when we got there, Brandi was immediately on Robert’s bed, then curled up on his chest. It was clear to us that she knew he wasn’t doing very well. Her care for him and the love-sadness that emanated from her were at once profoundly beautiful and tragic to observe. I honestly wouldn’t have expected anything less from their farewell.

What I hadn’t anticipated was that Brandi would come to fellowship to wait for me and that she’d minister to people there as well. When I walked out of the conference room into Bond Hall, not only was Brandi there, but she was joyfully prancing around everyone there, delighting in each and every person she encountered. Michele recounted to me how earlier Brandi had even more exuberantly leapt from lap to lap to lap. Not one person there wasn’t beaming at the sight and stories of her.

Very quickly I made the connection between Brandi and a poodle I’d known in Massachusetts. “She’s a ministry dog!” I exclaimed, remembering my friend Debbie had acquired Jeannie for this very purpose after she hadn’t quite met the mark in service dog school. (Jeannie had skills, but apparently she didn’t want to work quite that hard and, given how smart poodles are, she’d managed to figure out a way around it.) Jeannie would come to meetings with Debbie and, by her very presence, lower the blood pressures of everyone in the room. All on her own, she’d seek out the one autistic boy in worship and sit by his side for the whole service. Those were the kind of ministry tasks she performed. Brandi has none of the training, but apparently has a natural gift. And it seems that Zach really took my exclamation about her to heart: Every Sunday since then he has brought Brandi with him to worship and fellowship. Not only that, but they arrive early so that they can greet people as they enter the church.

Rev. Carol Reynolds with Brandi, ministry dog — Brandi enjoying a snuggle with Pastor Carol during worship.

Brandi loves people of all ages and sizes. It’s obvious from the way her tail goes a mile a minute whenever she encounters a new person, as well as how she rubs up against them, and gives them little kisses, and even hints that she’d like to be picked up. Recently she met a little boy who was new to the church and afraid of dogs. Zach didn’t find this out about the boy until after he’d had a lovely encounter with Brandi. Apparently, since that meeting, his phobia has been drastically reduced, if not eliminated altogether. In worship Brandi has made a point of sitting with people who were crying, and leads the congregation to the communion table with warm, enthusiastic greetings along the way, reminding us that this is, after all, a feast of joy, anticipation of the kin-dom of God’s love and justice we hope to one day be a part of. Come to think of it, Brandi’s unconditionally loving presence is a bit like God’s…

Brandi’s timing couldn’t be more perfect. With as much division and tension as there is in the world these days, she gives us permission to laugh and smile and exchange knowing glances about just how unbearably sweet and cute she is. She unites us in a very positive way on our ways to the communion table. Beyond this, she provides a concrete way for Robert’s spirit to live on among us. While we in turn provide her with a ton of love and attention and a brand-new sense of purpose. Perhaps we minister to her as much as she does to us. Whatever it is that’s transpiring between Brandi and the congregation, it’s a beautiful thing to behold, and I rejoice in it.

Lazarus Must Be Rolling Over in Her Grave!

by John Indermark

In case you were wondering: the title is not mistaken in its gender pronoun usage. I do not have in mind the Lazarus, beloved brother of Mary and Martha, who already experienced rolling out of his grave according to John’s gospel. No, the Lazarus I have in mind is Emma, beloved daughter of Moses and Esther – and the poet who penned the words engraved on a bronze plaque that now (at least for the time being) stands displayed in the museum at the Statue of Liberty. Its closing words, taken from a longer poem of hers, would once have been the stuff of Fourth of July picnics and elementary school recitations and civics classes.

“Give me your tired, your poor,

Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,

The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.

Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me.”

I say “once would have been” because some Very Important People in Very High Places have definite ideas about who should be let in and particularly who should be kept out of our nation these days, ideas that seem to take a sand blaster to Lazarus’ inscription. The most recent rule put forth by the Trump administration regarding immigration reinterprets provisions of “public charge” in Draconian ways – or, given its likely architect, Millerian ways. Mind you, the rule aims not at illegal immigrants, but LEGAL immigrants. If you need most any form of public assistance to help get your feet on the ground, fugetaboutit. All such objections go away, of course, according to the fine print of the rule, if you can show your income is 250% or more of the federal poverty line. If it is, c’mon in! If it’s not, maybe the deportation venues will at least have the honesty to play Ray Charles (“Hit the Road, Jack, and don’t you come back . . .”). And perhaps the National Park Service will be directed by Mr. Miller to update Emma’s plaque:

Give me your hired, your secure,

Your globe-trotting investors yearning to be regulation-free,

The targeted folk of north European shores,

Send these, the classy, upper-crust to me.

As I said, Lazarus must be rolling over in her grave, and not just because of the words of her poem with which we are most familiar. Did you know the title she gives to the Statue in the poem is not Lady Liberty, but Mother of Exiles? What would she say to those who seek asylum today, driven by violence and despair literally into exiles – only to be met with pejoratives of “murderers” and “rapists?” I believe Emma’s answer can be discerned in the phrase she used in the poem: “From her beacon-hand glows world-wide welcome.”

Today, in addressing the new rule, the administration’s Director of Immigration Services was asked how this policy set with the Statue’s invitation to “your tired, your poor, your, huddled masses.” His answer? “I’m certainly not prepared to take anything down off the Statue of Liberty. We have a long history of being one of the most welcoming nations in the world.”

Unfortunately, history is no guarantor of the future, and befogged nostalgia can be the future’s worst enemy. The question is: Are we NOW to be who we advertise ourselves to be? Hypocrisy is not a problem limited to the church. It gnaws away at national identities. If this rule stands, Lazarus’ poem and its “Mother of Exiles” will cease to be our aspiration –and be transformed into our self-inflicted indictment of nativism and greed.

On the Move

by John Indermark

Modern physics understands that the smallest elements of matter are in constant motion. What appears to be solid, be it your kitchen table or your body, is actually a vibrating collection of subatomic “stuff.” Were it not for forces at work within atoms, the illusion of solidity might spin off into nothingness. I try not to lose sleep over being poised on the edge of that precipice. I need a comfort zone of dependability. How else could I live?

So consider a similar dynamic at work in faith, whether in the heart of an individual or the spirit of a community: we largely prefer to live in comfort zones constructed of what we have come to depend upon in our belief systems. I believe that to be true whether one identifies as a die-hard conservative or flaming liberal or any manner of faith position in between. How did we get that way? Our experiences. Our traditions. Our encounters with God. As best we can, we put those things together and package our faith in a way that makes sense. How else could we live?

There is only one problem with this tendency: God. God’s quicksilver-like resistance to be poured into one shape or fit into one box eludes our control. Just when we think we have this faith-thing nailed down and dependable, God goes contrarian. Ask the folks addressed in Ezekiel 10. Everybody KNEW God dwelt in the Jerusalem temple. That was the covenant, the agreement. God would stay put, no matter what. You could always count on that, if nothing else. How else could they live?

But the “nothing else” of exile came to pass – and God didn’t stay put. God moved beyond the Temple door, beyond the city gates of Jerusalem, beyond the Promised land. As Ezekiel saw it, God had wheels and wings: and God was in motion. God’s freedom was, and remains, a potentially sobering sight. All of our constructions (or is it constrictions?) of God, whether liturgical or theological or political, only have a piece of the Mystery. We catch a glimpse, we receive a promise, we partake a grace. But just when we think we have God all figured out, wheels start spinning and wings start flapping. God proves elusive at every attempt to be boxed in to our favored tradition or pet presumption.

So how can faith survive in the face of God’s boundless freedom, and not spin off into nothingness? Ezekiel’s glimpse of the mystery reveals God’s freedom to be not capricious, but purposefully aimed toward hope. When God leaves Jerusalem, the Presence moves east: the direction of the exiles. God’s freedom did not move God to abandon them, nor us. God’s freedom moves God to find us, to lead us to places whose possibilities we might never have known had it not been for the God too large for any box to contain. Ezekiel’s God has wheels and wings! Does ours?

Summer homework: Jesus Christ

by Talitha Arnold

A lot is happening in the world around us, much of it very troubling. Even more troubling is that some of it is being done by those who claim the name of Christian. So even though I know it’s summer and the living should be easy, here’s a bit of homework—a refresher course in who Jesus Christ was and what he did:

Jesus was born into poverty, as a part of an ethnic and religious community under the oppression of the Empire.
Even before his birth, his parents were displaced people, who had to leave their hometown of Nazareth on the order of that Empire.
After his birth, due to violence in his homeland, his parents fled with him, crossing to the border into Egypt for his safety.
His cousin John was imprisoned and then executed by a quasi-religious king, put in place by the Empire.
Jesus himself was executed by those same imperial powers. As Dean Harold Attridge reminded us recently, it was a political execution, driven by fear of Jesus’ challenge to the Empire.
Throughout his ministry, Jesus respected and valued women, often affirming them in roles outside the cultural norms of the time.
He also respected and cared for people of diverse ethnic, religious, and cultural backgrounds. He healed the daughter of a Rabbi, the servant of a Roman centurion, and the daughter of a Syrian-Phoenician (aka “mixed-race”) woman.
He stayed true to the commitment “to love God and love neighbor,” rooted in both the Levitical and Deuteronomic codes of his Jewish faith. He consistently reached out to those who were outcast (lepers, tax-collectors and other “sinners”) and cared for the poor, widows (i.e., vulnerable women), and orphans (vulnerable children).
Jesus never hesitated to speak his mind when it came to the sin of economic oppression. Yet he said absolutely nothing about homosexuality. Hmmm—what does that tell us about his view of the “sin” of homosexuality?

Bottom-line, Jesus showed us God’s way in this world—the way of love and justice that even our ways of death could not and cannot defeat.

This is the Jesus I seek to follow. I believe you do, too. I also believe that unless you and I get over our reticence to talk about our faith and instead start talking about this Jesus to our friends and acquaintances, others will continue to define Christianity and Jesus in ways that are harmful to others and to this world.

I know it’s summertime. I also know the stakes have never been higher. If we care about this world that God loves, then we need to share what means to follow in the ways of that love, ways shown us by Jesus the Christ.

Embracing and Overcoming Horror (Movies)

by Abigail Conley

Horror movies are one of my favorite indulgences. I’m simultaneously a horror movie snob and will see anything labeled a horror movie. Jordan Peele’s version of horror movies wins awards and is mind-boggling and I highly recommend his work. I take issue with the lack of a systematic theology framework in The Conjuring Universe. Should anyone want to spend a few hours comparing and contrasting the theology of The Exorcist movies, I’m game.

And, yeah, I’ll also watch the terribly predictable movie that starts with teenagers making out where all but one person inevitably ends up dead. I’ll roll my eyes more, but I’ll watch it. Discretion is not really one of my gifts when it comes to this.

As a result of my indiscretion when it comes to horror movies, I recently went to see Midsommar. It’s one of those movies that gets great critical review and has the audience scratching their heads. There are major spoilers coming, so stop reading if you’re anticipating this movie.

The plot: a student from Sweden studying in the United States takes his new friends back home to rural Sweden for a festival. They’re aware he grew up in a rural area, somewhat of a commune, and go willingly for a week of celebration, including lots of hallucinogenic drugs. The drugs, at least, are supplies beyond their wildest dreams. It turns out that they’ve landed in the middle of a pagan cult and are sacrifices for this celebration that happens every ninety years.

Again, sometimes my indiscretion bites me in the butt, especially when it comes to horror movies.

The reason I like the horror genre in general is that they often name our deepest fears and worries. The writers of this genre understand humanity in a profound way. I’m not talking slasher movies; I am talking Pet Sematary, and our fear of death, afterlife, and losing loved ones. Horror movies that hit in the gut recognize that there are things far scarier than what goes bump in the night.

And so, in the middle of a slow-moving trippy movie that has left me scratching my head, there was a gem. One friend would survive the ordeal and join the commune. The guy who brought them all there said to her, “When my parents died, this community held me. Do you feel held?”

Full disclosure, I’m pretty the guy’s parents were sacrificed in some other cultic ceremony. (Seriously, skip this movie.) But I keep thinking about that concept. Do you feel held?

Do you feel held?

That question explores our deepest hopes and needs for connection. That question points out our vulnerability. That question causes my stomach to do something a little weird.

All of the stories in the Bible that I immediately think of in response to that question are points of deep vulnerability. In every case, they are the absence of the feeling of being held, supported, cared for. Mary and Martha mourn with Jesus at the death of Lazarus. Jesus goes into the garden to pray and his disciples fall asleep. On the cross, Jesus asks John to care for his mother.

Do you feel held?

The intimacy of church is one of the things that most often freaks out my friends who don’t do church. The comfort of church with aging and death definitely freaked out my friends when we were in our twenties. But not too long ago, I was with one of our church’s beloved saints in the days before his death. His wife was there with him. She asked for specific people from the church to come, and they all showed up as she requested.

On the night he died, I was there, along with people all gathered from the church. We told stories and assured his wife she would be cared for. We chose a funeral home that night, and laughed and cried. The people gathered with her had memories reaching farther back than mine, and so they comforted in a way I could not. I watched her come alive in a way I had not seen before as they talked in the difficult hours. I waited with her that night until his body was taken to the funeral home, asked the nurse to give her something to help her sleep, then went to my home at the end of a long few days.

That night remains a profound experience of Church, and watching the Church hold someone—deeply, tightly, lovingly, enduringly. They had shared the good times, but they stayed through the worst, and would do it again. Held.

One of the deep fears that plays out time and again in horror movies is fear of being alone. That’s the terrifying part of slasher movies and apocalypse movies. Alone. No one else. Loneliness, it turns out, is one of the health crises bubbling to the surface right now. We are a people in need of each other.

But when I remember that scene, that question, “Do you feel held?” I am amazed by how deeply the church holds—with mountains of food and lock-ins and awkward conversations and showing up. The church holds with baptisms and women’s groups that pastors skirt and cleaning out that one closet yet again amidst laughter and stories. The church holds and keeps holding when no one else will.

It turns out, we brave the greatest fears because we choose to hold. Let us cherish this gift.

Seeds of Gratitude

by Karen MacDonald

The smooth muted magenta skin

enrobes olive green moist flesh.

The flesh encases small exquisite

pear-shaped seeds.

Skin and flesh sliced in half,

seeds plucked out onto a cutting board—

arrest my attention,

beckon me to notice them,

call my heart to listen:

The lush flesh is meant as food

to nurture the seeds

to sprout as vibrant plants

to in turn bear fruit

to continue their cycle of life.

These luscious grapes have given their life,

their flesh and future,

that my body may thrive.

Humbling. Convicting.

In honor of such selfless self-giving,

How am I giving of my very being

that Life may thrive

in whatever and every being it comes to life?

Guest Workers

by Carol Peterson

[Rev. Carol Peterson recently relocated to Tucson, having moved here from Virginia, and was part of the Southern Conference, Eastern Virginia Association. Happy to have Carol as a new contributor!]

I am new to the Southwest Conference and Arizona. I visited Tucson several times over the years from my home in Norfolk, Virginia to spend time with my parents, who, initially came here as “snowbirds”, and later became permanent residents. As they have aged (as have I), my spouse, Loen, and I decided to move out here permanently. So having been in Virginia for the better part of the last 30 years, we had a yard sale, donated much of our belongings, and set out across the country in our pickup truck and four little rescue dogs (sadly now, three), and arrived in Tucson the last week of November 2018, just in time for Thanksgiving.

Since then, we find ourselves still in the throes of transition, trying to find our footing in a new place, a new climate, a new culture in many ways, and new circumstances. How do we meet friends, where do we find connections to the LGBTQ community, and where can we find connections to a spiritual and church community? How then, do we find our place, our way of serving, our connection to community, here?

The gospel readings (Luke 10:1-20) yesterday gave pause, and peace. In it we are told that Jesus sent his followers on ahead of him in pairs to the various towns and villages. When there, he told them, bring peace, heal others, and proclaim to all who would hear you, that the reign of God is near. Don’t bring a lot of baggage, accept the hospitality that is given, eat what is set in front of you, and if you are not received, move on, again proclaiming, the reign of God is near.

I leaned over to Loen during the worship service and said, “I guess we’re one of the two by twos.” Wherever we followers of Jesus are sent, for whatever reason, we are sent to heal, bring peace, accept hospitality, and whatever the outcome, proclaim that the reign of God is near.

Our place is where we are sent. Our connection is to Jesus. Our community is wherever we find hospitality. And our task is to heal, bring peace, and always, proclaim that the reign of God is near. We are, we all are, after all, guest workers, reliant upon the hospitality of those with whom we live and work. And we may rest in the assurance that we are sent to where Jesus intends himself to go. (Luke 10:1).

Blessings to all, and we give thanks to God that we are here.

Changing Pastors: Using This Liminal Time Wisely

by Teresa Blythe

The time between what has been and what is coming up for us is liminal—meaning it is a threshold space, ripe for the transformation of deep spiritual work. It is when you are “betwixt and between,” packing your bags (metaphorically and literally) for the journey ahead. For churches, there is no more liminal time than that period after one pastor has left and a new one has yet to be called.

As a spiritual director, I work with individuals as well as church boards, navigating major transitions in life. Church boards request assistance with the spiritual practice of discernment: making faithful choices through prayer, deep reflection, gathering of information and using imagination and intuition to discover God’s desire for them. Discernment is essential in this period, not just to find the next pastor but to see clearly who you are, right now, as a church.

Many churches use an interim pastor for just such discernment, which is good because interims are trained in helping a church set the stage for what’s next. What follows here is just one suggested process for taking a look at what you want to hold onto and what you may want to let go of while you are in-between pastors.

Taking inventory

The first step in any intentional move through a threshold is to take stock of what was. This is the time for your leadership team to be completely honest about how effective and healthy your church has been with your last pastor at the helm.

What to keep?

What values, work habits, boundaries and agreements served your church well? Do you want to keep those “as is” or look at them with new eyes? This is the time to evaluate that.

This account is what spiritual directors call “a long, loving look at the real,” and what 12-step programs refer to as the “searching and fearless moral inventory.” Start with the positive and use your understanding of Appreciate Inquiry. Ask:

When did we feel most effective and alive in ministry?
What do we value most about this church and its mission or work?
When we look back at this church a few years from now, what do we imagine was our greatest strength, learning and accomplishment?

Develop a historical timeline for your church. Draw a horizontal line on large section of butcher paper with the year the church was founded at the left side of the page and the current time on the right.

What have been the high points (that the leadership can remember)?
Mark those times when the church went through important periods of growth—both spiritual and physical growth. Note anything of interest that happened in the life of the church.
Once you have a timeline full of landmarks, spend some time in prayer reflecting on what you notice. What memories from what was does your leadership want to build upon as you move to what’s next?

What to leave behind (and learn from)

Not every experience at your church needs to be repeated! Some are best used as learning experiences. Consider what has been dysfunctional in your congregation and needs to change. No need to start playing the blame game. This is just a chance to step back, observe the history non-judgmentally, and notice what you don’t want to pack and unload on your next pastor. What values, work habits, boundaries and agreements need to be re-evaluated?

When did this church feel least effective and least energetic?
What just plain didn’t work and we don’t want a repeat of?
Where were the stumbling blocks for your congregation? How were they met?
What new values, habits, boundaries and agreements do we want to establish?

Take another look at your timeline. Now make notes of those events or seasons where leadership felt most challenged. Recall how the relationship with God felt at that time. What did you learn? Bravely facing and reflecting on these low points are where the greatest transformation for the future can take place.

Creating a “rule of life”

After you identify where you want changes made—how you will do things differently—write these down and consider how you might turn this into a “rule of life.”

A rule of life is a valuable spiritual practice handed down from early Christianity. It’s an agreement we make with ourselves (and God) about how we will connect with God; connect with others and live out our faith on a regular basis. Some examples of agreements and “rules” from prominent spiritual leaders and communities of the past include[1]:

St. Benedict’s Rule

Practice hospitality, read the Bible and the church fathers, develop a rhythm of prayer and work.

Rule of Taize

Practice common prayer three times a day, have interior silence, practice mercy and avoid judgment.

Dorothy Day

Look for Christ’s presence in the poor, keep a journal, use the Jesus prayer.

Dom Helder Camara

Pray when others are asleep, see Christ in others (especially those who suffer), be prepared to give up power, privilege and prosperity.

Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.

Walk and talk in the manner of love for God is love, pray daily to be used by God in order that all may be free, observe with both friend and foe the ordinary rules of courtesy.

Notice many of the rules start with the word “practice,” since very little of this comes naturally to us. It takes work. Add to your rule those practices that help your leadership team and congregation move into this new era grounded in God and approaching the work with hope and confidence.[2]

Let’s say your leadership team decided it wants the next phase of the church’s life to focus more on spiritual formation through working in small groups together. Your rule then would include a statement similar to: Practice prayer, faith sharing and Christian community building through an emphasis on spiritual formation in small groups.

Developing a rule will help your next pastor know what you value and what your hopes are for the next phase of congregational life. Certainly you will want to revisit your rule from time to time to see if you’re practicing it and if it needs to be adjusted. It’s a rule of life, not necessarily a rule for the rest of your church’s life.

Be sure to schedule in time for prayer and reflection on all of this as a leadership team. Discernment is not just about making a choice—it’s about how we make a choice. The more we intentionally enter discernment, the more it becomes a way of life, staying in touch with the Source of Life so that when we make choices, we do so with the help of the Holy Spirit.

“What’s next” is ultimately unknown. Some things you can’t control and simply cannot pack for! There are many variables. You may need to hold your vision for what’s next lightly. And trust that the transformation your church experiences during this liminal “in-between” time is the preparation it needs for the other side of what was.

Teresa Blythe is ordained in the United Church of Christ (UCC) to the ministry of spiritual direction and works as a spiritual director for First UCC Phoenix. She works with individuals and groups in spiritual direction and does organizational discernment work through the Sacred Transformation Project. She may be reached at teresa@teresablythe.net.

[1] For more on how to develop your own personal rule of life, see William O. Paulsell’s book Rules for Prayer. (Paulist Press)

[2] Need help finding spiritual practices for your rule? Check out my book 50 Ways to Pray: Practices from Many Traditions and Times (Abingdon Press).

Here we are again.

by Karen Richter

By my account, we are here at Immigrations and Customs Enforcement for the 55th time… beginning in December 2014. We mark this anniversary – the month by month by month recognition of the entry of our friend Misael Perez Cabrera into sanctuary at Shadow Rock United Church of Christ. We didn’t know then that Misael would be in sanctuary for over 100 days. We didn’t know that we would welcome others into sanctuary. We didn’t know what it would cost our fellowship.

We didn’t know the blessings this work would bring to us either. How we would welcome Misael’s beautiful baby boy. How we would rally around a family to take a child to Lego camp, to make possible family reunions and sports teams and tutoring. How we would stand with a woman who chose to return to Mexico to be with her husband who was deported. How some of us would come to embrace a new vision of borders as a place where people can meet and learn from one another peacefully.

Yesterday, I taught a class… I’m a teacher in the way I move through the world so much more than an activist or rabble rouser. In this class we talked about the tasks and callings that are entrusted to us – personally and as part of groups and communities that we are part of. There are things that are entrusted to me, to Karen… my children, my friendships, my calling as teacher and spiritual director. What is entrusted to those of us gathered here today? To progressive people of conscience? To Christians who see the face of Christ in every immigrant neighbor, every refugee, every asylum seeker?

What is entrusted to us? The people in sanctuary, the asylum seekers who pass through our shelters and church buildings – their safety and wellbeing are entrusted to us. The idea that immigrants bring immeasurable gifts to our neighborhoods – this hopeful idea is entrusted to us. The understanding of our scripture that includes the repeated command to care for the immigrant, the widow, the orphan – this sacred duty is entrusted to us.

So here we are again. We stand here in hope, in faithfulness, in community. We persist. We pray.

Please join me in prayer. We begin in silence.

Spirit of Life; Spirit of Love:

We are thankful for the opportunity to speak here today, for the privilege of standing with our sanctuary guests. We ask for energy to work for justice, for deepening compassion, for spiritual courage. May our hope match the hope of our migrant neighbors. Give us softened hearts to reach out in friendship and trust. Be with us as we continue to advocate for our vision of compassionate immigration policy. We pray today with the confident faith of Jesus, child migrant, teacher, brother.

AMEN.