Southwest Conference Blog

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.

On Puzzles, and stories

by Sandra Chapin

Puzzles exercise the brain. This kind of workout is something I can do on a daily basis. Putting pencil to paper for a little Sudoku (a math puzzle – more entertaining than figuring out my bank balance) while cable news hosts keep me over-informed. Putting finger to computer for online jigsaw puzzles when I need a break from TV. Yes, my mind is sharp and my eyes are strained.

Get back to real life, you say? Can’t get away from puzzles.

Composer Richard Rogers sang on that subject. From The King and I…

There are times I almost think
I am not sure of what I absolutely know
Very often find confusion
In conclusion I concluded long ago
In my head are many facts
That, as a student, I have studied to procure
In my head are many facts
Of which I wish I was more certain I was sure!

Is a puzzlement

A great story set to music. The King of Siam reached out to Anna, the governess from England, to unravel some of the puzzles that persisted in his head. Through conversation and companionship, they both benefited by learning from (and disagreeing with) each other. They were like puzzle pieces representing Eastern and Western thought, and when their edges adapted and found a fit, a better image and understanding of the world emerged.

St. Paul’s is a puzzle. My next sentence choice could take take us in many directions, but the point I want to make here is that we are pieces that fit together. Surprisingly. Each one is the product of a different history. Our shapes vary. (Let’s not get into that.) Our ages may cluster around some vague measure of maturity, but our outlook on life is all over the map.

The analogy is obvious. When one piece is missing – when a unique voice, hug or smile is not present – the picture is not as colorful or meaningful as we’ve experienced before.

But our puzzle is not “done” even when all pieces are present and accounted for.

These short phrases are from a recently concluded TV epic with enough plot twists to boggle the most nimble puzzle fan.

What unites people?

Armies? Gold? Flags?

Stories.

There’s nothing in the world more powerful than a good story.

Tyrion Lannister
Game of Thrones
Final episode

In our church gatherings on Sundays or during the week, in our conversations, without a sense of hurry and in the embrace of trust, we share our stories. Mostly they are not epic. They are best told not in sound bites (or tweets), not in speeches, but in response to a skilled listener who lets the word images unravel from the head and heart of the teller. No prodding. No judgment. No subject changing. No filling a silence with commentary.

Storytelling is a waiting game.

Is the puzzle of a person’s entire story ever complete?

The picture on the box may be of a covered bridge in the fall, and every jigsawed piece has its place. But what does it feel like to ride a bicycle as a twelve-year old into that darkened corridor, the rhythm of wheels drumming on weathered floor planks? Beneath is the stream where you and Grandpa fished all summer, hooking more jokes than trout. Does this bridge connect home and school? Childhood and adulthood?

Stories: bridges into the heart. A story may be given away, yet remain owned. Maybe we don’t tell it the same way twice, as memories are rediscovered or put aside. Shared, it can linger with a listener. Or result in a joyful moment, like the flash of the silver trout, darting away, laughing.

Stories unite people. And puzzle pieces.

Being prosecuted for compassion

by Bill Lyons

The Gospel tells Christians that giving food, drink, welcome, shelter, clothing, care, and accompaniment to strangers equates to feeding, quenching the thirst of, sheltering, clothing, caring for, and accompanying Jesus himself.[i] Jesus teaches us that these actions have eternal implications because they are God’s basic expectations for all human relationships.

And yet, the federal government in Tucson, Arizona is prosecuting humanitarian aid worker Scott Warren for providing food, water, shelter, rest, and orienting two men who had been in Arizona’s deadly desert for two days. Warren is charged with harboring and conspiring to transport undocumented migrants, felonies that carry decades of possible prison time. [ii]

On May 5, U. S. Customs and Border Protection Agents arrested, held, and continue to intimidate Ana Adlerstein for accompanying a Central American migrant into the Lukeville, Arizona border crossing after prearranging their appearance with the port of entry supervisor. Adlerstein was accused of “alien smuggling” although she has not been charged with a crime.[iii]

These are not isolated incidents. Similar arrests and intimidation of U.S. citizens living their faith’s values have been reported all along America’s southern border. Prosecutions for harboring undocumented migrants has risen from 3,461 to 4,532 in the last three years – a 30% increase. In an NPR interview Teresa Todd, a four-term city and county attorney in west Texas, framed the situation this way, “It makes people have to question, ‘Can I be compassionate’?” Todd was arrested and continues to be harassed by federal and state law enforcement officials for giving a migrant shelter in her car until medical help could arrive. [iv]

Living our faith in relationship to our neighbors regardless of their citizenship should never be a crime. Preventing the deaths of people in the desert is what God asks of us. Law enforcement officials should never be permitted to arrest, harass, or intimidate people of faith for embodying the hospitality the Bible describes and to which Jesus enjoins us. People of faith should never be afraid to live compassionate lives. And yet those are the realities many people of faith in America’s border states experience every day. U. S. immigration policy should not make the desert a death sentence.

As a Christian leader I feel compelled to bring these assaults on our core value of compassion into the light. Silence as a faith leader in this moment surrenders our Constitutionally protected religious right to love our neighbors. Not only am I praying for change, I am working for it in the public square. I invite you to be present, speak truth to power, and take action with me to preserve our core values to feed, quench the thirst of, welcome, shelter, clothe, care for, and accompany our neighbors of every immigration and documentation status without fear of reprisals, prosecution, intimidation, or threats against our liberty from government authorities. May the Spirit of the Christ who calls us to love one another as we have been loved by God bolster our courage and strengthen our resolve to protect and preserve the dignity of every person created in God’s image, and to create the loving world Jesus envisioned.

– Rev. Dr. William Lyons, Conference Minister, Southwest Conference UCC

[i] Matthew 25:31-46

[ii] https://www.google.com/search?q=migrant+deaths+in+the+sonoran+desert&rlz=1C1CHBF_enUS759US759&oq=migrant+deaths+in+the+sonoran+desert&aqs=chrome..69i57.6548j1j7&sourceid=chrome&ie=UTF-8

[iii] https://tucson.com/news/local/steller-column-intimidation-campaign-intensifies-against-border-humanitarians/article_e6cef226-0d05-55e6-ab0f-6b9d3a2661b8.html

[iv] https://www.npr.org/2019/05/28/725716169/extending-zero-tolerance-to-people-who-help-migrants-along-the-border

image credit: Dan Sorensen on flickr

About Alabama, and Georgia, and Ohio, and…

by Abigail Conley

I thought maybe I should write about that time I needed emergency contraception and the gift of the website that helped me get something that would work for my body. A woman called soon after I clicked that button to confirm my information and calmly, professionally, compassionately asked questions to make sure the prescription they were overnighting would work.

I thought maybe I should write about my friends who have been raped, and the stories we tell behind closed doors. At 25, we could still talk about trauma more than twenty years old.

I thought maybe I should write about making sure young women in my congregation going off to college know how to not get pregnant, to not take open drinks at parties, and hearing what happened any way.

I thought maybe I should write about the trust that Planned Parenthood would help newlyweds and graduate students access contraception and the task of accompanying friends through lines of people accusing her of murder when she was doing everything she could to not get pregnant at a time that a pregnancy would have been financially devastating.

I thought maybe I should write about buying a pregnancy test for a scared youth sponsor, a woman in her mid-30s who would was still unsure of how to care for her body.

I thought maybe I should write about the people who whisper “abortion” through tears years later in their pastor’s office. I thought maybe I should write about the people who whisper “abortion” with fear of judgment with no regrets about their decision.

I thought maybe I should write about the women who I kicked out of the church office as they so proudly talked about their plan to intimidate women seeking abortion. They weren’t quite as proud of their plan to offer enough incorrect information that it was too late for her to obtain an abortion when she found her way to a provider. I thought maybe I should write about the two very conservative women from my church who witnessed that exchange and the grateful look in their eyes as they pronounced, “That’s not right. You don’t know what happened.”

I thought maybe I should write about the fact that I have never been raped, or sexually assaulted and still, if someone grabs my wrist, a panic arises so deep inside of me I am yelling within seconds; somehow my body knows this movement spells trouble for so many women.

I thought about writing about those things.

I thought about writing about those things but you could read similar stories in a few million places on the Internet.

I thought about writing about those things, but why should I have to tell stories of pain in order to convince someone that all those other women and I are actually autonomous humans, too?

And instead of writing those things, I think I will share Janet Ruth Heller’s poem about Deborah, the prophet and judge of Israel:
It is not recorded of Deborah
That she settled down with Barak,
Raised a tribe of Children,
And left off judging Israel.

We may be mothers. We may be wives. We may be many things. But today, I am longing for women to be able to just be.

An Easter Story

by Abigail Conley

In the days before Easter, I was bombarded with Church—not my own church, but advertisements from the many churches hoping I’d show up there on Easter morning. They wasted advertising dollars on me, for sure, but it was also a reminder of all the anxiety of holidays in the church. Will there be enough food? Will people show up? What if we’re not packed for Easter? Like it or not, Christmas and Easter become the days we wonder if our churches measure up. Those are the days all our anxiety about our future can easily come to rest.

So here’s an Easter story that has absolutely no flash and is full of resurrection and is one of the best Easter miracles I’ve ever witnessed.

On Easter Sunday this year, our lone thirteen year old handed me a handwritten announcement. It was a carefully written invitation to her school’s production of Music Man. This is the first time she’s offered an invitation in this way, even though I know there have been several other plays and musicals. The adults sitting in front of her in worship have told me we should make sure she knows she can sing in the choir.

One of the performance dates is on my calendar. I have no doubt the production will be terrible in all the ways that middle school musicals are and wonderful in all the ways that middle school musicals are. I typed the announcement in this week’s email knowing full well this invitation is wonderful and terrible. I typed the announcement trusting that there will be another adult or two who show up just because this kid from church invited.

Most people don’t know this kid is in foster care. Hesitantly, we hear bits and pieces in prayer requests about other siblings and biological parents. Some people connect the dots while others don’t. Mostly, it doesn’t matter either way. I know more of her story because I’m her pastor, but I can’t share most of it. It’s not mine to share and, well, foster care.

Here is what I do know though: we are doing something right if any thirteen year old can hand an announcement to her pastor and trust it will be well received. That’s not just about the pastor, but a church that loves her and welcomes her and is interested in her life. We are especially doing something right if that kid has all of the baggage that comes with being in foster care and still can learn to trust her church.

The announcement is now tucked away in a special folder I keep full of notes and cards and letters to go back and look at on the hard days. They are little stories of resurrection, one and all.

So here’s to churches with one thirteen year old or one seven year old or none of those who celebrate any way. Here’s to churches with not quite enough bulletins or way too many and will make do either way. Here’s to the beauty that comes with community—as lovely as the woman headed back to the tomb, as lovely as a potluck breakfast with too many carbs. Here’s to all of us who live in the promise of resurrection, for Christ is risen, and we are rising, indeed.

A Christian response to anti-Semitism

by Talitha Arnold

Friday is the first night of Passover, the joyous celebration of God bringing the Jews from slavery into freedom. Today is also Good (or Holy) Friday, the Christian commemoration of Jesus’ death at the hand of the Roman Empire. For both Jews and Christians, this is a deeply holy day.

Tragically, the Christian Holy Friday has often been a time of holy terror for Jews. Throughout the centuries, the remembrance of Jesus’ suffering and death served as an excuse for Christians to inflict that same suffering and death on Jews. A Jewish friend recalls from his 1950s boyhood that he never went outside on Good Friday to avoid being beaten up by neighborhood boys because “the Jews killed Jesus.” Such beliefs are still prevalent. Recently, an acquaintance asserted, “Of course the Jews killed Jesus. The Bible says so.”

No, it doesn’t, and we Christians need to pay attention to how we tell the Good Friday story, especially in this time of rising anti-Semitism. Affirming our faith and seeking to follow in the ways of Jesus Christ should not lead to the prejudice and bias that fosters discrimination, fear and violence.

So how can we Christians tell the story of Good Friday? We can tell the truth that Jesus’ crucifixion was a Roman execution meant to strike fear and suppress opposition. Thirty years before Jesus’ death, the Roman Legion crucified 3,000 Jews to stop a rebellion in Galilee. When Christians tell Jesus’ story, we need be clear that the religious leaders of Jesus’ time were responsible for the well-being of their people, living under the shadow of a brutal and oppressive regime. Many were justifiably concerned with anyone who put their people in jeopardy by challenging that regime.

We can affirm that Christian scriptures were written over decades to different audiences with varying degrees of familiarity with Judaism and different relationships with the Roman Empire. When we speak of Jesus’ last days, we can tell the truth that the Gospel writers were trying to establish a new religion and therefore sometimes disparaged or vilified those who opposed them.

We can also underscore that the Gospels don’t agree in their portrayal of that opposition. As noted above, some Jewish leaders understandably feared Roman retribution, not just for themselves but for their people. Some opposed Jesus for theological reasons and believed he was undermining the faith that had given their people hope for generations.

Still others opposed Jesus for less virtuous reasons. In Jesus’ time, as in ours, unholy and unhelpful alliances existed among political, economic and religious leaders. Jesus’ advocacy for the poor, the vulnerable and the outcast — which was deeply rooted in his own faith as a Jew — may have been welcomed by some leaders and by the people, but it put him at odds with many in power, especially those at the top.

Moreover, the Gospels of Matthew, Mark and Luke often distinguished between the religious establishment and the people. Their Gospels also acknowledged diverse opinions toward Jesus among the leaders themselves. In contrast, three decades later, John’s Gospel was written primarily from a “you’re either for us or against us” perspective.

Hence, John spoke only of “the Jews” with little distinction between leaders and people or recognition of the diversity among the leaders. John also absolved the Romans of almost any responsibility for Jesus’ death. In Mark, Pontius Pilate turns Jesus over for crucifixion because he wishes “to please the crowd.” In Matthew, he literally washes his hands of the situation. But in John, the Roman imperial governor pleads Jesus’ case — an odd perspective, given the Roman Empire’s brutal response to religious resisters.

Because John’s Gospel has been the main text used in many Good Friday traditions, Jesus’ death often has been framed solely as the result of the “old Jewish religion” resisting the “new (and better)” Christian faith. From there, it’s only a small step to the “bad Jew, good Christian” thinking that’s often permeated Christianity from its beginning.

Yet as scholars Marcus Borg and John Dominic Crossan observe, if the Jews as a whole wanted Jesus dead, why do Mark and Matthew state that the leaders needed to arrest and kill Jesus “by stealth” or that they were worried about a “riot among the people?” Perhaps the real opposition to Jesus that led to his death was rooted less in religion than in the leaders’ fear of losing power or status. Such fear is a human trait, not limited to any particular religious or ethnic group.

As Christians, we need to tell the truth of the Good Friday story. The story of Holy Week is not about the inherent evil of a particular ethnic or religious group. It is simply the all-too-human story of vested power (political and religious) that is threatened and then responds with force and violence.

The Jews didn’t kill Jesus. Fear and hatred did. Neither is the sole domain of any particular religious group or faith tradition. The question isn’t “who” killed Jesus but “what.” We Christians need to remember that this sacred week.

The Rev. Talitha Arnold, senior pastor at United Church of Santa Fe, wrote this for the Interfaith Leadership Alliance.