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The Little Church That Could

by Rev. Tina Campbell

I told them I wasn’t a parish pastor. My first gig was on the streets of the Southside of Chicago and I did no parish field work in seminary. I prayed in long houses in British Columbia and was perfectly at home inside a maximum security prison unit. Addicts and inmates, dying people and rebellious teenagers didn’t daunt me, but I certainly wasn’t a parish pastor. This is not to say that I am without faith. The kind of ministry I have experienced is not for the faint of heart. So ok…I’ll strike a deal. I’ll come and preach and then go home. They agreed to that. Then I watched them.

They did everything at the church. They cleaned the bathrooms. They replaced toilets. They brought food. They prepared the bulletins. There was a dog who sat in the front pew and seemed to listen to my sermons. There was a piano player who could make all my favorite songs fill the sanctuary with joy. They never said, “We’ve done enough.” They always said, “How can I help?” They never said, “I’m too busy.” They always said, “I’ll do that right away.” They didn’t just talk about the unhoused in our downtown Phoenix community, they showed up in person to visit with them. They made hundreds of blankets for our asylum seeking neighbors in Mexico and convinced non-church community members to bring carloads of food to place at our altar before distribution to local food banks. The men clean up the kitchen. They know stuff about addiction, incarceration, poverty, LBGTQ issues and loss.. They’re even fun, and they laugh and tease one another. They recently raised thousands of dollars to provide heat relief during our desert climate crisis.

After awhile,  I started looking at their dear faces from the pulpit, and I realized that I loved them, especially the dog. It seems I’m a parish pastor after all. God certainly has a wild sense of humor.

I will not be among the hand wringers who prophesize the demise of the Christian church. I believe our strength is not in numbers, but in bold faith put into action. If we focus on acting out the Good News of the all inclusive Gospel, we can’t go wrong. Black Mountain United Church of Christ has taught me that. I say this with good authority.  After all, I’m a parish pastor. 

The Reverend Dr. Kristina Campbell

Transitional Minister Black Mountain United Church of Christ

Scottsdale, Arizona 

Too Many Things

by Rev. Lynne Hinton

My grandmother used to have a favorite saying she liked to share whenever I had my arms full and dropped something I was carrying. “Never take a lazy man’s load.” It was her way of telling me that it’s better to take less things more times than it is to try and get it all in one trip. Trying to hold onto too much, she would explain, usually after everything I was holding dropped out of my arms, is a sure recipe for disaster.

I hear her voice inside my head every time I try to carry too many things, thinking I can manage extra bags or books or groceries, and I hear a “my, my, my…” after the accident happens, yet again. One would think that after fifty years of being taught that lesson, I would have learned it. And yet, it still always seems like I attempt to pile more things in my arms, try to carry more than I actually can.

Author Mark Nepo writes about a friend of his who had a similar problem; his, a self-induced fall. He had set out to paint a room in his house. He bought the supplies, drop cloths, paint brushes, cans of paint, mixing sticks, then mixed the paint, and got ready to enter the door to the house to start his project. Nepo’s friend explained, “I teetered there for minutes, trying to open the door, not wanting to put anything down. I was so stubborn. I had the door almost open when I lost my grip, stumbled backwards, and wound up on the ground, red gallons of paint all over me.”

Nepo goes on to write, “Amazingly, we all do this, whether with groceries or paint or with the stories we feel determined to share. We do this with our love, with our sense of truth, even with our pain. It’s such a simple thing, but in a moment of ego we refuse to put down what we carry in order to open the door. Time and time again, we are offered the chance to truly learn this: We cannot hold on to things and enter. We must put down what we carry, open the door, and then take up only what we need to bring inside.”

Both my grandmother’s “lazy man’s load” and Nepo’s “moments of ego” remind me that usually bad things happen when we try to carry too many things or stack too much on our backs, attempt to move forward by clinging to the past or refusing to let go of stuff. There is more calm and less drama, more peace and less disasters when we take things slowly, when we put things aside, when we allow ourselves the room and space to walk.

On the surface, attempting to do too many things at once doesn’t seem like the actions of a lazy person, but rather appears to be the work of an industrious being, a hardworking soul. And yet, to continue fooling yourself into thinking you’re able to keep too many balls in the air, more items on your list than you can remember, too many events for your mind to hold, too much in your bags to carry, will certainly leave you with the same thoughts and emotions as the painter covered in spilled paint.

“Never take a lazy man’s load,” I hear my grandmother say once again; and I sigh as I put down a bag of groceries, open the door, and take them in just one sack at a time.

The Art of Inviting: How to Extend an Extravagant Welcome

by Christopher Schouten, moderator at Black Mountain UCC, in a letter to church members

Hello, dear members of the Black Mountain United Church of Christ,

If you’re reading this, it’s likely that you’re passionate about our community and you’re keen on extending the warmth, love, and fellowship we share to others. However, the task of inviting someone to church can seem daunting, if not a little intimidating. You’re not alone – many people feel the same way. 

The good news? Inviting someone to church doesn’t have to be a nerve-wracking experience. Here are a few practical suggestions on how to approach it:

1. Choose wisely: Everyone is potentially a great invitee. However, focusing on people you already have a connection with can be a more comfortable starting point. These could be friends, family members, coworkers, or neighbors. They’re already familiar with you, and you with them, which makes for a more organic conversation.

2. Know your audience: Before extending an invitation, try to understand the other person’s spiritual beliefs, interests, or needs. For instance, a friend grappling with grief might appreciate a supportive community, or a relative new to the area could be looking to make connections.

3. Practice empathy: Be mindful of your invitee’s comfort level. Respect their religious or non-religious beliefs and ensure your invitation does not come across as forceful or intrusive. 

Now, let’s talk about how to start that conversation:

1. Find a natural segue: If the subject of faith, community, or church comes up in a casual conversation, that could be an opportune time to mention your church and extend an invitation. 

2. Share your experience: Talk about why you love our church community and how it’s helped you. Personal stories resonate, and you’re more likely to spark interest this way. For instance, you could say, “I’ve been attending the Black Mountain United Church, and it’s been such a source of strength and community for me. I think you might enjoy it as well.”

3. Involve them in a church event: Instead of directly inviting them to a service, invite them to a non-religious event your church is hosting. It could be a community service project, a book club, or a potluck dinner. This will give them an opportunity to experience the community and decide if they’d like to explore further.

4. Use social media: If face-to-face invitations feel daunting, consider sharing your church experience on social media. A picture from a recent event or a quote from last Sunday’s sermon could pique someone’s interest.

5. Follow up, but don’t push: After extending an invitation, give the person some time to consider it. Be open to answering any questions they may have about our church but refrain from pushing them to give you an answer.

Remember, the goal isn’t to have a high ‘success rate’ of getting people to come to church. The true aim is to extend an open hand of friendship and love to those around us. Keep your intentions pure, stay patient, and you might be surprised by how many lives you touch.

Your role as a member of Black Mountain United Church of Christ extends beyond our weekly services. It’s about living our values and extending our spirit of community, one invitation at a time. 

The human desire to put God in a box

by Rev. Deb Church

“To what can I compare this generation? They are like children sitting in the marketplaces and calling out to others:

‘We played the pipe for you, and you did not dance;
we sang a dirge, and you did not mourn.’

For John came neither eating nor drinking, and they say, ‘He has a demon.’ The Son of Man came eating and drinking, and they say, ‘Here is a glutton and a drunkard, a friend of tax collectors and sinners.’ But wisdom is proved right by her deeds.” (Matthew 11:16-19, NIV)

These verses are part of Sunday’s lectionary Gospel text, and they got me thinking about the human desire to put God in a box… Here are a few more contemporary examples (or perhaps you have your own):

“I prayed desperately to God that my sister would survive when she got cancer. She didn’t. People told me if I had prayed harder, she would have lived…”

“So many people all over the world are starving. How can there possibly be a loving God who allows that to continue to happen??”

“When I go to church, I want to be comforted and inspired. The new minister says things that make me feel bad, so I don’t go any more. I just don’t believe God wants me to feel bad when I go to church!”

“There are so many lies told in the name of God, so much hurt inflicted in the name of God– God, can’t you please just smite the people who are saying and doing those terrible, hurtful things??”

“It says in the Bible, ‘Women should be silent in the churches. For they are not permitted to speak but should be subordinate…’ [1 Corinthians 14:34, NRSV] It seems perfectly clear that there should not be women preachers!”

Like the people of Jesus’s time, we like to think we know God–how God will act, of whom God approves, when God will show up, why (and on whom) God will pronounce both favor and judgment, what God has to say about a certain situation, etc.

Like the people of Jesus’s time, we are also people of faith, and therefore, we know God. And we know those things about God.

Well, we think we know those things…because surely, we know God…

Okay, if we’re honest, we really want to know those things…because we desperately want to believe that we know God. Because if we can convince ourselves that we know God, then we can convince ourselves that we understand God. And we believe we understand God, then we can predict God’s involvement in our lives, and in our neighbors’ lives, and in the lives of folks all around the world. And if we can predict God’s involvement in the world around us, then we can count on God’s action, when and where and how we expect it. And above all, perhaps, we will be assured that what we’re saying and doing and thinking and believing about God is good and right and true (and…that “theirs” is not).

Like the people of Jesus’s time, we know not of what we speak…

Like the people of Jesus’s time, we know not of whom we speak…

Like the people of Jesus’s time, who were also people of faith, when we claim certainty about God, and about how and where and when and among whom God will show up in the world, we will almost certainly miss it…

Like the people of Jesus’s time, we must not put God in a box. Instead, Jesus challenges us to look for signs of God’s presence, as “proved…by her deeds.” (Matt. 11:19b)

When we see truth, there is God.
When we see kindness, there is God.
When we see justice with mercy, there is God.
When we see solidarity with those who are suffering, there is God.
When we see deep laughter, gentleness, humility, and wisdom, there is God.
When we see compassion, peace, joy, and generosity, there is God.
When we see healing and reconciliation, there is God.
When we see wholeness, there is God.
When we see love, there is God.

We cannot know with certainty how and where and when and among whom God will show up. But we can know without a doubt that God is present and at work, in our lives and in all of God’s creation.

Almighty and Tender God, may our eyes and ears and minds and spirits be open to truly know you, to humbly see you, and to courageously join you in your work in the world.

May it be so.

Learning a more complete version of our nation’s history

by Rev. Talitha Arnold, United Church of Santa Fe

In early June, six United youth, with Karen and Frank Wilbanks and myself, traveled to the Navajo Nation for four days of exploring that sacred landscape and learning about the history and present lives of our Navajo/Diné neighbors. We took a jeep tour deep into Canyon de Chelly and met with the two Diné Episcopal priests who serve the Fort Defiance Good Shepherd Church, with whom United has a long-standing relationship. We even had a chance encounter with Di’Orr Greenwood, the young Navajo/ Diné artist, one of four skateboard artists whose work is featured on a new set of U.S. Postal stamps.

We were also in Window Rock, the capital of the Navajo Nation, and toured the History Museum on “Treaty Day” (June 1), that commemorates the signing of the 1868 Treaty that ended “The Long Walk.” In case you don’t know this history, between 1863 and 1866, after burning their crops and kidnapping their children, the U.S. military forced over 10,000 Navajo/ Diné men, women, and children to walk from their homeland in northeastern Arizona 250 miles to Bosque Redondo in southern New Mexico. At least 2,000 Navajo/Diné died on the journey. Another 4,000 died over the next four years of imprisonment, due to disease and malnutrition.

Finally, Navajo/Diné leader Manuelito and others successfully used the treaty-making process to secure a return to their homelands and forge a diplomatic relationship with the United States government. Juanita, Manuelito’s wife, and other women also participated in the negotiations, even though—as women—they weren’t officially recognized by the U.S. government. To secure the treaty, the Navajo/Diné also had to agree to giving up their children, from age 6 to 18, to Indian Boarding Schools—a whole other chapter of U.S. history.

After the Museum tour and Treaty exhibit, I asked our youth how learning this hard history made them feel. “Sad,” said one. “I wish our country hadn’t done that,” said another. “We need to make sure something like that never happens again,” said another.

I couldn’t help but contrast their feelings with the current rhetoric used to ban books and forbid the teaching of a fuller history of our country. Such actions are needed, so the argument goes, to keep children and youth from feeling bad or ashamed.

That wasn’t what our kids felt. When they learned a part of U.S. history they’d never known, they felt sadness and empathy. They knew that something our country had done was wrong, and they felt a commitment to make sure such injustice won’t happen again. Empathy. Responsibility. Concern for justice. Aren’t those supposed to be Christian values?

As we prepare to celebrate the 4th of July, let’s learn from our youth and be open to learning a more complete version of our nation’s history. One could argue it’s the Christian thing to do.

We have always existed

by Rev. Louis Mitchell, Senior Pastor at Rincon Congregational UCC

Wikipedia offers this:  Jewish law, or halacha, recognizes intersex and non-conforming gender identities in addition to male and female.  Rabbinical literature recognizes six different sexes, defined according to the development and presentation of primary and secondary sex characteristics at birth and later in life.  Jewish literature describes what today would be referred to as intersex such as the concept of a Tumtum being a person of ambiguous gender and/or sex as is the concept of the androgynos, being a person characterized with elements of both sexes. One aspect of Gender and Jewish studies is considering how the ambiguity recognized in Rabbinical literature has been erased and constructed into a binary and how this translates into Jewish practices.
 
It’s also been amended by some to include eight gender designations found in the Talmud –
The 8 Talmudic genders identified are as follows:
(1) Zachar (male), (2) Nekevah (female), (3) Androgynos (having both male and female characteristics), (4) Tumtum (lacking sexual characteristics), (5) Aylonit Hamah (identified female at birth but later naturally developing male characteristics), (6) Aylonit Adam (identified female at birth but later developing male characteristics through human intervention), (7) Saris hamah (identified male at birth but later naturally developing female characteristics), and (8) Saris adam (identified male at birth and later developing female characteristics through human intervention).
 
But what is the Talmud?
 
The Talmud (/ˈtɑːlmʊd, -məd, ˈtæl-/; Hebrew: תַּלְמוּד, romanized: Talmūḏ) is the central text of Rabbinic Judaism and the primary source of Jewish religious law (halakha) and Jewish theology. Until the advent of modernity, in nearly all Jewish communities, the Talmud was the centerpiece of Jewish cultural life and was foundational to “all Jewish thought and aspirations”, serving also as “the guide for the daily life” of Jews.
 
The term Talmud normally refers to the collection of writings named specifically the Babylonian Talmud (Talmud Bavli), although there is also an earlier collection known as the Jerusalem Talmud (Talmud Yerushalmi).  It may also traditionally be called Shas (ש״ס), a Hebrew abbreviation of shisha sedarim, or the “six orders” of the Mishnah.

The Talmud has two components: the Mishnah (משנה, c. 200 CE), a written compendium of the Oral Torah; and the Gemara (גמרא, c. 500 CE), an elucidation of the Mishnah and related Tannaitic writings that often ventures onto other subjects and expounds broadly on the Hebrew Bible. The term “Talmud” may refer to either the Gemara alone, or the Mishnah and Gemara together.
 
The entire Talmud consists of 63 tractates, and in the standard print, called the Vilna Shas, there are 2,711 double-sided folios.  It is written in Mishnaic Hebrew and Jewish Babylonian Aramaic and contains the teachings and opinions of thousands of rabbis (dating from before the Common Era through to the fifth century) on a variety of subjects, including halakha, Jewish ethics, philosophy, customs, history, and folklore, and many other topics. The Talmud is the basis for all codes of Jewish law and is widely quoted in rabbinic literature.
 
I’m not a Hebrew scholar, but I wonder when these observations of our ancestors of faith became unacknowledged and a hard binary came into being.
 
Even as many feel that this “new thing,” gender expansiveness, is confusing and born in modernity, there is much evidence that we have always existed all over the world and in most every culture.
 
If you’re interested in learning more, check out https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Transgender_history
 
All of this to say, names and pronouns are important. When someone trusts you enough to tell you who they are and how they’d like to be addressed, try not to take that tender trust lightly.
 
In our radical and expansive welcome, we will all have to learn, shift, and grow. I believe we’re ready and able to the task!
 
Be thoughtful, listen well, and love with your language.

There has never been ‘neutral ground’

by Rev. David Klingensmith

As a progressive Christian minister in the United Church of Christ, and as a gay man, I read with interest Phil Boas’ piece in the Saturday Republic. It comes across as that of a privileged, white, straight man.

I realize that Phil probably didn’t select the picture attached to his article, but I wonder how such an innocuous display of clothing with one rainbow band could be seen as being “bombarded with identity politics.”

Mr. Boas says that the people who are angry at Target “don’t want to erase gay people” because “many of those gay people are beloved family and friends.” He says that people just want “neutral ground.”

Phil, as a gay man and a Christian, I can tell you that from my perspective there has never been “neutral ground.” In most stores and in many cities and towns across America, even today, an LGBTQ+ person cannot ever find anything that acknowledges that they exist. When I was coming to terms with my own sexuality some forty years ago, a couple of gay magazines that were available then were hidden under wraps at the mall. You had to be brave enough to ask for them. For many young people who are struggling with their sexual and gender identity being able to see themselves and their struggle represented in society is important and affirming. Many young people are most afraid of talking with family members, especially if they come from a conservative background. And everyone who supports Pride month is aware of the sacrifices people made before and in the years after Stonewall.

Milton Friedman’s belief that corporations only have responsibility to make as much money as possible is also flawed. Corporations are making all sorts of ethical decisions every day, whether it is how much water they use, what chemicals they use, how they support their employees’ quality of life, and so on. And they certainly have the right to take a stand on such things as LGBTQ rights. If their stockholders don’t agree they can vote them out. But I applaud Target, Anheuser-Busch, and Disney, to name a few, for taking a supportive stance.

I believe that all people have the right to make their choices. If a family walks past the Target display and one of their kids asks about it, I support the right of parents to say, “We don’t agree with that” and share with them why they don’t agree. I support their right not to shop there. But I don’t support them asking the store to take down the display because it makes them uncomfortable.

So many of these arguments (usually by straight, white, evangelical Christians) seem to be fear-based. Many of the folks that espouse these views seem to fear that one day they and their views may be in the minority. But as someone has put it, “Equal rights for others does not mean fewer rights for you. It’s not pie.”

Happy Pride Month, Phil.

Going To Camp

by Rev. Lynne Hinton

Every year in June I direct a camp in Blowing Rock, NC for developmentally disabled adults. Since moving to New Mexico, I have at times thought that it’s just too expensive and time-consuming to go back every summer, but as the time rolls around I realize I’m not just doing this because it’s a charitable thing to do or because the camp needs my help. I lead this camp, I participate, because it’s really the best thing I can do for myself and subsequently, the best thing I can do for my family and for everyone in my life.

I don’t exactly know why or how or when it happens, but at some point during the week of crafts and devotions and sing-alongs, the talent show and shared meals, I remember the person I want to be. I see the woman I desire to become. I find myself slowing down, paying attention to small things, saying thank-you more often, laughing at myself, holding hands with someone. At some point in the midst of the campers’ delight, their unique spiritual maturity and their special needs, I find myself more loving, kinder, a gentler spirit and I have to admit I am happy and relieved to find and be that woman again.

It’s not that I dwell in self-loathing. It’s not that I hate who I am the other 51 weeks out of the year. It’s just that I’m not always pleased with how I handle things, how I process events, how I participate in relationships. It just seems that so often during the rest of the year, the rest of my life, I hurry through the days and worry through the nights and I’m not always very nice or very hopeful and I look in the mirror and I’m not happy with who I see. Special Days, this camp I attend, puts me back on the spiritual track I try to follow. It makes me slow down, makes me be attentive to things going on around me, makes me sing and laugh and reach for the hand of somebody else. And somehow by Tuesday night while the campers congratulate each other on their great talents or Wednesday morning when we’re getting ready for the magician or the dance troupe, our entertainment for the week, or later that evening, dressing for the dance, I catch a glance of myself in the mirror and I see her. I recognize her, that woman I want to be. There she is, the kind woman, the loving woman, the gentle woman. And truth be told, I’m afraid that if I quit going to camp, quit participating in this summer experience, I will lose her forever and that I will not remember how to find her.

So, during the first week of June I will be in the mountains. I’m directing a camp called Special Days. I’m playing the guitar. I’m helping with crafts. I’m dancing. I’m serving meals and rocking in a rocking chair. I’m leading devotions and I’m laughing. And most importantly, I’m finding the woman I want to be. The good news for my family and friends is that when I come home I plan to bring her back!

Fall in Love

by Rev. Lynne Hinton

Since it’s the season of graduation and we get to hear lots of advice of how to live life, I decided to write my own little speech. It’s simple enough; my advice to graduates and to us all is to fall in love.

Fall in love with yourself, with being a child of God, created in that perfect image. Fall in love with your Creator who formed you in your mother’s womb, knitted you to be just as you are, while knowing who you will be. Fall in love with the miracle shining back at you in your reflection.

Fall in love with the world and its magic of starry nights and changing moons, yellow sun and greening earth. Fall in love with the dry desert soil with its hidden seeds and nutrients, with the tender shoot and thin blades of grass. The cottonwoods and rivers, the rocks and creeks and small speckled eggs of blue birds. Love the breeze that changes things, the drift of clouds across the sky, the lean of blooms on stalks to light. Love the color of things, the way the world turns and breathes and tilts. Fall in love with this round planet with its vast horizons and deep waters, its layers of ash and stone and dirt.

Fall in love with your family, mothers and fathers and embarrassing uncles, your siblings, your spouse and your children, how they all learned your dark secrets and still make a place for you and call it home. For the moment that your beloveds took your breath away, remember that, hold onto it, and never ever let the memory of that moment leave you.

Fall in love with being yoked, with having companionship and friendship, with promises made even while knowing how hard they are to keep. Fall in love with the stuff you build together, the places you go, the dreams you make, the inside jokes that only you know. Fall in love with all of those connected to you because marriage and family and friends are what will hold you up when the earth quakes and everything shatters and they are the ones who sooner or later will have to take your calls. That’s just what they do, so fall in love with that.

Fall in love with Saturday mornings with their chores and games, with church and the silence arriving in prayer, with Thursday night spaghetti and Tuesday’s breakfast cheerios, and the taste of ripe strawberries and the smell of a burger on the grill and the chill of ice cold lemonade sliding down the back of your throat.

Fall in love with the way your body moves, for the delight it feels, the touch of water and sun, the hand caressing yours and the ache in muscles well used, for eyes that see and ears that hear and arms that can hold more than you thought, feet that take you from here to there, your heart that breaks and heals, breaks and heals.

Fall in love with the moments that make you laugh so hard you hurt and the ones you wish you could take away or at the very least, forget. Fall in love with them all because every one of them makes up this life that is yours, this life that is you.

Fall in love with what you have and what you want and fall in love with giving it all away because in the end we discover that it is never the things we own that make us happy. Fall in love with mercy and forgiveness and the unpredictability that is forged within the hours of every single day. With hope and faith. Fall in love with love, the love that makes you patient and kind and keeps you from being rude and irritable or having to have your own way.

 Fall in love because all of it, all of this, all of life happens so fast and it is all so meaningful and not, important and not, necessary and not; so that the only thing that really lets you surrender at the end of it all is to know quite simply that you have experienced the sweetest and most thrilling part of what it is all about anyway, but only if you fall in love.

All Shall Be Well: “The Doctrine of Discovery: Hearing and Healing”

by Rev. Deb Church

I’m writing this reflection as I near the end of a travel study seminar offered by the Presbyterian (PCUSA) Peacemaking Program: “Native Lands of the Southwest: The Doctrine of Discovery and Its Legacy Today.”

Now if you find yourself thinking, “The doctrine of what?”, you’re not alone! Lots of people are in that boat, and I was, too, until somewhat recently. As I learn about it, however, I can’t not invite others into the conversation…

In a nutshell, the Doctrine of Discovery, whose roots can be found in a collection of 15th-century papal bulls (i.e., Pope-issued decrees), provided the theological and then legal justification used by European explorers, and later, American settlers, to claim lands that had been occupied by indigenous peoples for thousands of years, and additionally, to either convert or remove (which often meant, kill) those people as needed–or desired.  

It’s a part of our country’s history that’s uncomfortable and painful–but true nonetheless. And we who have not learned about it (generally through no fault of our own) are left with an incomplete–and inaccurate–understanding of who we are and where we’ve come from as a nation. And even though none of us who’s alive now did any of those things, our lack of awareness and lack of acknowledgement of them contributes to the ongoing injustice and trauma experienced by Native people in our country. And it keeps all of us–not just our Native sisters and brothers, but all of us–from experiencing true healing and wholeness, as God desires for all of God’s creation!

So, fueled by a desire for greater healing within myself, as well as within our Native siblings, as well as within our country, I joined thirty-four others from fifteen states on the travel study seminar mentioned above. Gathering in Albuquerque last Friday [April 28], we boarded a bus, Phoenix-bound, and embarked on a journey of listening, learning, grappling, and growing. 

As we’ve traveled hundreds of miles together through some of the Native Lands here in the Southwest, we’ve had the honor of meeting and hearing from quite a few Native Americans. They’ve shared stories of ancient ancestors and of grandparents, of lands lost and traditions preserved, of passed-down pain and passed-on lessons, of dances and foods and memories and faith, and so much more. Some stories have brought tears, and others, laughter; some generated shame and others, pride; some carried heartache and others, joy.

These Native folks have shared so much, and all they’ve asked was that we listen. That we bear witness. And so we’ve listened. And in listening, we’ve learned. In listening, we’ve been deeply moved. In listening, we’ve been changed. In their sharing and our listening, I hope and pray that we’ve all begun to be healed. 

The pain is deep. The pain is old. The pain is real. 

Hope and healing and transformation are also deep and old and real…

May what is Holy and Sacred within us and above us and below us and beside us and between us create a space among us where we can bear witness to each other’s pain, and in bearing witness, may hope be born and healing begin and transformation become possible…for all of us and all of God’s creation. 

May it be so.