Author: Southwest Conference Blog

The Owls, The Holy One, and Me

by Jane Jones

(A prayer for anyone who feels sadness at this time)

As I write this (in the pre-dawn of a wintery day), I hear the dialogue of two owls close to my home; two different voices, quietly calling back and forth.  What a blessing, to be in a space where this is even possible!

I’m grateful for my home and what it brings to me in terms of peacefulness and escape from the outside world where the busy-ness abounds, and where some of my former life remains without me.

I need to keep reminding myself that I’m in a good place…that being on my own isn’t horrible…that I’m loved and included, if not by a family that once filled my life with joy, then by many dear, generous (and patient!) friends who know me well – and love me anyhow.  That, too, is a major blessing…a blessing I need to remember and be thankful for.

This is the holiday season, and, as it does for so many others,  it has again brought me deep sadness that I’m struggling with.

All the ugly questions (why, why, why???) pop into my head randomly while the Christmas music in the stores offers triggers galore, and my head and heart are more than willing to respond to them.  I step in-and-out of a dark space where much about this time hurts me, and my first instinct is to hide in this funny little house and tell all these days of “joy” to move on.  They aren’t listening; these days don’t seem to fly by like the less-focused, supposedly “lazy days” of summer do.

So, in the darkness of predawn as my owl friends call to one another, I call out to You, Holy One.

I lie in my bed and pray to the overhead fan, knowing that you’re there, waiting to hear me. Often, there are tears to remind me that this time of remembering can cleanse my soul…sometimes, I even laugh when I think of something I said or did that was just so dumb. 

But mostly, I pray for Peace, for my own heart and for so many other hearts who are not loving this time of year. 

I pray for Peace, for anyone who needs a little glimpse of It this day – any day. 

I pray for Peace, for a world full of people who are in much worse life-space than I am. 

And I pray for Peace-full acts, that those who lead will consider consequences to the innocent, living in way too many horrible circumstances beyond my control or understanding. 

I pray to You, Holy One, and we share my dark heart, my dark bedroom and a welcoming, dark silence of prayer, knowing that later, you will show yourself to me in little ways.  You always do.

So, like the owls calling to one another, I wait for your response, and I crawl out of bed to begin the day again – with Hope, with more inner Peace, with Love.

Thanks.

That Was Me

The Church of the Palms used the following litany, written by Rev. Max Klinkenborg, at the dedication of the “Homeless Jesus” sculpture on Saturday, November 18, 2023.

Jesus said, ”I’m telling the solemn truth; whenever you did one of these things to someone overlooked or ignored, that was me – you did it unto me.” Matthew 25:40

Leader: Once I saw a man eating from a buffet of leftovers in a dumpster.

All: That was me!

Leader: Once I smelled the urine soaked clothes of an old women wearing two coats on a city bus.

All: That was me!

Leader: Once I saw a frozen body covered in snow with no coat, hat, shoes or gloves.

All: That was me!

Leader: Once I saw a man fall to the street; his shoes were stolen before he could get up.

All: That was me!

Leader: Once I heard the screams of a man set on fire in a dumpster for stealing drugs.

All: That was Me!

Leader: Once I felt the despair of a man turned away on a cold night from an overcrowded shelter.

All: That was Me.

Leader: Once I saw a woman on a bike pulling two carriers filled with her earthly possession.

All: That was Me.

Leader: Once I heard a person arguing with themself at full volume as they pushed a grocery cart.

All: That was Me.

Leader: Once I gagged at an infected blister under a blood soaked sock on the sole of a woman’s foot.

All: That was Me!

Leader: Once I wept as I saw a boy and his sister eating ketchup on crackers, alone in a restaurant.

All: That was me!

Leader: Once I saw three adults, four children and a dog sleeping in a minivan.

All: That was Me!

Leader: Once I heard a shivering man in a wheel chair, stuck in snow, calling to no avail for help.

All: That was Me!

Leader: Once I saw a man asleep on a park bench covered by newspaper.

All: That was Me!

Leader: Once I smelled burning flesh when a woman fell on a steel grate in August and no one helped her get up.

All: That was Me!

Leader: Once I sent Christmas cards to a woman’s prison; a woman thanked me later for her only card or gift.

All: That was Me!

Leader: Once I heard a bone-rattling cough from a pile of rags holding a blood soaked rag to her mouth.

All: That was Me!

Think about what you believe. Then see if you believe what you think. 

by Rev. James Briney

I like what Jesus did.  He noticed what was going on for others, did what he could and moved on.  Jesus did what he did as a matter of faith.  He lived for what he believed and he died for what he believed.  But his last words indicate that he did not know if it was worth it:  “My God why have you forsaken me.”  Jesus understood that when you know the right thing to do, but are not certain of the outcome, do it anyway.  That’s all any of us can do.  

A challenge of ministry is the futility of it all.  If it weren’t for so darn many flawed human beings, clergy would be out of business.  More congregations would be extinct and forming community would be left to amateurs.  Professionally—or not—the key is to minister.  Show up.  Be present.  Be in the practice of ministry, not the ministerial business. 

The major religions of the world have one thing in common.  No one knows anything.  Religious practices are based on faith and belief, not proof and knowledge.  We all are just trying to figure out where we come from, why we are here, and where we are going.  The best we can do is employ words and symbols to express such concerns.  

I like who Jesus was, and is.  He still is, and will continue to be, for as long as he is remembered, thought about, and talked about.  Jesus was anointed as the messiah by those who recognized him as the King of Kings, the Prince of Peace, the Lord of Lords, and the Son of God; not the Caesars, who claimed those titles for themselves. 

When Jesus was confronted by the law-givers, who were out to do him in, he did not say he was the ‘only’ way to be in relationship with God.  Jesus said: “I am the way.”  I take that to mean, I am the way to be.  Be the way I am. 

Jesus is not some sort of magic man who did things we can’t do.  He was not being modest when he said:  “You will do greater things than I.”  Jesus understood, hoped for, and trusted that every person is capable of being and becoming the soul that God intends for them to be. 

It is tempting to give up on humanity, or to blame God in the context of overwhelming tragedies, horrors, and sorrows.  It is seductive to settle for a life of distractions that prevent us from thinking about that which matters most.  

I am a person of faith.  I believe there is more to life than life itself, perhaps experienced in the afterlife as manifestations of consciousness and energy.  I once told an atheist who ridiculed my faith, to try to be gracious should he meet God face to face.   

God has given all of Creation everything we need.  Everything in this world that is wrong, unfair, hostile, and unjust is on us.  Trust the Spirit that is Holy within you.  All that you experience and all that you do is part of the Eternal. 

There is no my god, your god, or our god.  There is one God, by a variety of names.  The Church is a flawed institution, not the Kingdom of God.  Individuals that understand the basics, fundamentals, and particulars of their own faith—and the faith of others—give me some hope.   

It’s scary to contemplate our fate and to wonder where we came from, why we are here and where we are going.  But do it anyway.  When you are satisfied that you have all the answers start over.  Think about what you believe.  Then see if you believe what you think. 

Over 25 years of ordained ministry the Reverend James Briney served congregations in Indiana, Michigan, Wisconsin, and Arizona. Early on, Jim earned degrees in Philosophy and Theology.  He is retired and living in Oro Valley.  (Photo by: Lou Waters.)

Being Soul-Centered

by Rev. Lynne Hinton

In his book, Soul Keeping, author John Ortberg writes about caring for the soul. He explains that Jesus calls us to a deep life, a life that pushes beyond everyday desires and interests. In one chapter, he describes how the soul needs a center; and I was particularly drawn to the idea that without a center, the soul is easily thrown, easily distracted, and easily destroyed.

Ortberg tells the story of being with friends at an open-air street market and how they all were drawn to a mechanical bull. Ortberg is talked into riding and reluctantly agrees to give it a try; but before he jumps on, he is given a few instructions.

“’There are twelve levels of difficulty on this bull,’ the operator explained. It might not be all that easy, but the key is you have to stay centered, and the only way to do that is to sit loose. People try to clamp on too tight. Don’t do that. You have to be flexible. If you think you can be in control of the ride you’ll never make it. You have to follow the bull. You have to keep moving. Shift your center of gravity as the bull moves.’”

Ortberg successfully managed to stay on the bull for a few minutes, thinking he had mastered every move of the mechanical animal, feeling quite pleased with himself and what he imagined was a natural ability to ride and not fall off. After the nods and smiles of congratulations from his friends, he turned to the operator, expecting some high praise. Instead what he heard was, “That was level one.” And Ortberg was soon taken to level two. He writes, “Level two lasted maybe a second. The bull won.”

We can ride a long time in level one. It’s not that hard to hang on and get through the easy, slow bumps in life. It’s when we’re hit with real suffering, thrown about in fits and starts by an uncontrollable ride that we really come to find out just how centered we really are and just how flexible we can be.

These are not easy days for any of us and we are truly being tested with how long we can ride, how easily we can hold onto to our faith without needing to control. We are in a season of rough riding and perhaps it is a season that can remind us to find our center, to stay connected to what feeds our souls, to loosen our grip on how we think things should go, trust that even if we fall, we land in grace, and then just stay engaged, stay in the ride for as long as it takes.

As we continue to watch wars escalate in the world, gun violence increase, suffering grow, let us dig deep, find the center of our souls, breathe into the moment and ride.

We are not alone.

A Prayer for Today

by Rev. Lynne Hinton

God, the Great Creator, You may know the plans for us but we do not. We try to focus on what you have done throughout history. How you have brought us strength and courage for the difficult times, how you have been present to us, faithful throughout all our wars and battles, a mother hen, a shepherd, a pillar of cloud by day and a pillar of fire at night; but being completely honest, Holy One, it is hard to think of a future with anything but sorrow. The fights between enemies seem long and never-ending. The struggles feel complicated and rife with old pain. The weapons are deadlier, the costs higher, the consequences more dire.

We cry out for peace. We beg for the harm to cease. We pray. We light candles. We preach. We prophesy. We reach out. We weep. And we look ahead to the days before us, the tanks along the border, the rockets filling the skies, the anger growing, the death count rising, the blame shifting; and we imagine the worst. We fear what we will now ultimately and finally do to each other.

On this day we pray for those most affected by the violence. We pray for the children hiding in fear, the grieving mothers, the old ones begging to die, the young vowing revenge. We pray for the leaders of all nations to be wise and guided by courage and humility. We pray for those trying to breach the gap between those who hate each other. We pray that people of all faiths and those without, for people across the world, different and yet the same, for all of your children to see this as an opportunity to come together and say, “Let us begin again. Let us stop the killing, the destruction. Let us find a way to peace. Let us believe in a future with hope.”

Merciful God, help us to stop the violence building in our hearts, to see goodness in each other even when it seems impossible. Help us to put down our weapons and words of hatefulness and anger and pick up bread to share with the ones before us. Help us to open our clenched fists and receive your blessings that await us when we surrender. Help us to release the despair and have our hearts filled with hope. For today. For tomorrow. For a future we all desire. We look to you, The One Great Source of Love.

Amen.

Recycling Old Blood

by Rev. John Indermark, written the day before the Hamas attack on Israel, and the crisis that has resulted

After Pilate attempted to deny his responsibility for putting Jesus to death, Matthew 27:25 records this: “Then the people as a whole answered, His blood be on us and on our children!” No other gospel records those words, only Matthew. But whatever reasons may have first led to their inclusion in Matthew and nowhere else, those words spawned disastrous consequences in the wholesale smearing of Jews as Christ-killers and the rise of anti-Semitism.

The history of the Church’s active role in promoting anti-Semitism goes back at least to the time of the Crusades, when several massacres of Jews took place not in the battlegrounds of the Holy Land but in the homelands of Germany and France. While we may delight to the music of Fiddler on the Roof, its historical setting involved the violent pogroms that victimized Jewish communities in Eastern Europe and Russia. In the background of all these and other persecutions was a twisted lie known as “blood libel” – the claim that Christian boys were slaughtered so their blood could be used in secret Jewish rituals. Too often, the Church kept silent in the face of the lie – or worse yet, promoted it.

The power of that lie, and its association with “blood,” infested 20th century fascism. In 1930, the same year he joined the Nazi party in Germany, Richard Darre wrote a book whose title in English is A New Nobility Based on Blood and Soil. Darre, whose field was agriculture and eugenics, argued in it for a program of selective breeding (the blood part of the title) to insure Nordic and Aryan racial purity. And once again, except for the courageous witness of a small Christian movement known as the Confessing Church, much of the rest of the Church remained silent as Aryan purity transitioned from far-fetched ideas into concentration camps not only for Jews, but also for others deemed unfit – Gypsies, Gays, Slavs, the infirm, Bonhoeffer.

So why bring this up in a 21st century church newsletter? The leading presidential candidate for one of our nation’s parties made the following statement this week about migrants and immigration: “It is a very sad thing for our country. It’s poisoning the blood of our country.” Sound familiar? It is not an accident, and it is deadly serious.

Poisoning the blood. Its origins in anti-Semitism stretch now to include whoever is the stranger, the other, the outsider. We have seen its results before. In the past, too often, the Church has stood silent in such times, and the world suffered. We cannot do so again. Never again.

A Teacher of Faith

by Rev. Lynne Hinton

Like many of the hospice patients I served, this one became my teacher. He was a composer, author, philosopher, and artist. He also happened to have ALS. After receiving that diagnosis, he lost the use of his arms and hands. This meant that he could no longer express himself in the creative ways familiar to him. He also lost much of his ability to speak. Every word required great effort until finally, after an hour of conversation about saints and mystics, the stories he was convinced I needed to learn, he stopped talking. “I’m tired,” he would say, and so, we would turn to silence.

My teacher didn’t have a plan for what he was going to do when his disease progressed. This frustrated a lot of people. And if I’m honest, there were times when I wished he could tell me that he had a place to go, money to spend, or a reliable person to take care of him. But this was not his way. This had never been his way. “The things I need, the people I need, they all show up when I need them,” he kept reminding me, and as hard as it was not to ask for proof, I believed him. This is, after all, my understanding of the very essence of faith. To believe in the unbelievable, to hope even when there is no clear reason to do so, to trust that what we need will come to us in the time it is most needed.

In all the religious places and events where I have been and served, there are very few people I know who are actually living out that kind of faith. There are none that I know who follow the mandates of Jesus when he told his newly chosen disciples as they were going out, “take no gold, or silver, or copper in your belts, no bag for your journey, or two tunics or sandals or a staff.” All the good folks in my circles, myself included, carry at least one backpack on whatever mission trip we agree to. And most people don’t really believe that Jesus was talking to everyone when he said, “sell all your belongings and give the money to the poor.” I have found that most ministers have a little nest egg set aside for retirement. The truth is that many say they live by faith but very few test it like my teacher from years ago. And though some may have admired his lack of anxiety over having no resources, calling it faith, there were others who criticized him for his apathy, calling him lazy and irresponsible. Still, he upheld a set of values that many people claim to honor. He believed in what he could not see. He trusted that what he needed would come.

And in the end it did, in fact, work out for him. A week before he died, he hired caregivers from Craigslist; and they were there for him when he transitioned from this world to the next. With only knowing him a few days, they, like me, loved him instantly and surrounded him in the peaceful presence he was waiting for. They met all his needs.

It’s been a while since my teacher died, but I will never forget his lessons. I can only hope that one day what I learned from him will come true for me. What I need will arrive in just the time I need it; I simply must believe.

To be like those who dream

by Rev. Talitha Arnold, Senior Pastor, United Church of Santa Fe

When the Lord restored the fortunes of Zion,
we were like those who dream.
Then our mouth was filled with laughter,
and our tongue with shouts of joy.
Psalm 126:1-2

Every fall as I drive to work, I feel like those ancient Israelites, filled with laughter and shouts of joy. Why? Because of the bright yellow cowpen daisies that spring up in every nook and cranny, empty field and street divider around Santa Fe this time of year. How can we not be filled with joy and thanks for such beauty in unlikely places?

But the composer of Psalm 126 also knew life isn’t always so abundant. The Psalm was written for the children and grandchildren of the Israelites who managed to make it back from the devastating exile in Babylon. Behind the shouts of joy and laughter were years of hardship and uncertainty.

In 2005, the southwestern United States was in the tenth year of a devastating drought. The pinon trees that covered the hills throughout northern New Mexico were among the casualties of the dry times. Stressed by drought and susceptible to bark beetles, they died by the thousands. Once green landscapes turned brown and grey with dead trees. For longtime residents, it felt like a death in the family.

But in late August, it started to rain. Within days, fields of wildflowers sprang up. We couldn’t believe our eyes. Yellow cowpen daisies, purple asters, and rare flowers not seen in a century covered the land. Scientists observed that it wasn’t only the rain that produced the riot of color. The needles of the dead pinons had provided the mulch and nutrients needed by long-dormant seeds. The trees would never be restored, but their death gave birth to a new beauty as far as the eye could see.

“May those who sow with tears, reap with shouts of joy,” proclaimed the Psalmist. “Those who go out weeping shall come home with shouts of joy.” The preacher-composer reminded the people of God’s power to call forth new life—and joy—in even the driest and deadest of times. The psalmist also called them, and us, to be “like those who dream”—to trust God’s possibilities in the hard times of our lives, our communities, our families or this world.

Whether our hopes be a return from exile or acres of cowpen daisies and purple asters, may the God of power and possibility give us the courage to “be like those who dream.”

And . . . may we be open to possibilities already present.

The Power of Listening

How the simple act of listening furthers the creation of God’s beloved community

by Christopher Schouten, Black Mountain UCC

Though many of us (including me) have grown up and spent much of our lives around others that look and behave very much like we do, in our ever-diverse world, the tapestry of human experiences is intricate and varied in ways we sometimes can’t even imagine. As Christians, we are called to navigate this tapestry with love, grace, and a willingness to listen and learn. Indeed, the act of listening is at the heart of true understanding, especially when we are confronted with stories and realities that are different from our own.

The Bible emphasizes the importance of listening time and time again. James 1:19 reminds us, “Everyone should be quick to listen, slow to speak and slow to become angry.” Proverbs 1:5 says, “Let the wise listen and add to their learning, and let the discerning get guidance.” The importance of these verses lies not just in the act of listening but in the transformative power it holds. Author Steven Covey said “Seek first to understand, then to be understood,” and this requires us to listen.

Especially in our diverse society, there are many situations in which we are called to listen.

Dialogues on racial justice demand our full attention and our ears. While the narratives of racial disparity and systemic injustice may be uncomfortable for many, listening to them is essential for fostering the change that brings equality to all God’s people. We must remember the parable of the Good Samaritan (Luke 10:25-37), a story that emphasizes the love for one’s neighbor, regardless of racial or cultural differences. By listening to the experiences of our Black, Asian, Indigenous, Pacific Islander and Latino brothers and sisters and allowing them to transform our understanding of unjust, structural racism in our society, we get closer to fulfilling Christ’s call to love unconditionally.

Genesis 1:27 tells us, “God created humankind in God’s own image.” This means that people of all genders reflect God’s image. Our society is rife with gender biases and rigid gender norms, often causing hurt and misunderstanding. To bridge the gap, it becomes imperative to listen to the experiences of people of all gender identities, acknowledging their pains, struggles, and victories, thus appreciating the full spectrum of God’s creation and helping us to grow into wholeness and community.

Heteronormativity, the belief that heterosexuality and everything that is associated with it is the norm, is another area where listening is crucial. Jesus, in Matthew 19:12, speaks of eunuchs who have become so from birth, created by men, and by choice, urging us to accept those for whom marriage, in the traditional sense, isn’t for them. The experiences and the lives of LGBTQ+ people are often very different from other people – often in ways that aren’t immediately visible. By listening to LGBTQ+ stories, we begin to see the breadth and depth of God’s creation and the different forms that love and family can take in the world.

The road to understanding is not always comfortable. There will be moments when the stories we hear will shake us, make us confront difficult personal material, or challenge our worldviews. But it is in these moments of discomfort that growth occurs. Christ, too, often found himself in uncomfortable situations, whether dining with tax collectors or speaking with Samaritan women. His example reminds us that transformation often begins at the edge of our comfort zones.

As members of the United Church of Christ, we have chosen to be a people that provide an extravagant welcome to all, as Christ did. In Romans 15:7, Paul urges, “Accept one another, then, just as Christ accepted you, in order to bring praise to God.” This acceptance starts with listening.

It is through the act of truly listening that we pave the way for understanding, empathy, and love. Let us commit ourselves to listen actively and then really HEAR what the other person is saying and let it impact our hearts, even when it challenges us. For it is through these challenges that we inch closer to a world that embodies Christ’s vision: a world filled with love, justice, acceptance, and unity; God’s beloved community.