faith – Southwest Conference Blog

Whole Lives Matter: Embracing Intersectionality in a Complex World

by Christopher Schouten

At this month’s national gathering of the United Church of Christ’s Open and Affirming Coalition, I heard a phrase for the first time that struck me deeply: “Whole Lives Matter.” While it echoes the call for dignity that “Black Lives Matter” represents, it points to something both universal and deeply personal—the recognition that we are all complex, multifaceted beings created in the image of God. It calls for the acceptance of every aspect of who we are. To truly see each other, we must see the entirety of each person’s identity—embracing all the layers of race, gender, ability, sexual orientation, socioeconomic status, and other aspects that make us human. This is intersectionality in its truest form.

The Complexity of Intersectionality

Intersectionality, a term coined by Kimberlé Crenshaw in 1989, was originally used to describe the overlapping oppression faced by Black women in systems of racial and gender inequality. It has since expanded to include the myriad ways in which different aspects of identity intersect and affect one’s experience in the world. In the LGBTQIA+ community, intersectionality is crucial because queer identity doesn’t exist in isolation from race, class, ability, or gender identity. We are all many things, and each part of us shapes how we experience the world.

To simply label someone as “gay” or “trans” without acknowledging their other identities—whether they are Black, disabled, working-class, or a woman—reduces them to a single facet of their existence. Instead, we are called to look at the whole person. When we do that, we create space for empathy, respect, and an acknowledgment that everyone’s lived experience is unique and valuable.

A Biblical Call to Wholeness

The message of “Whole Lives Matter” resonates deeply within the Christian tradition. From the beginning of the Bible, we see God creating human beings as whole and complex. Psalm 139 celebrates this, proclaiming, “For you created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother’s womb. I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made” (Psalm 139:13-14). These verses remind us that every part of our identity is sacred, lovingly woven together by the hands of God.

Jesus’ ministry also demonstrated this profound respect for the whole person. He didn’t engage with people based on just one aspect of their identity. Whether it was the woman at the well, the tax collector, or the woman caught in adultery, Jesus saw and loved them for their full humanity. He didn’t overlook their struggles or dismiss their complex circumstances but acknowledged their worth in every encounter.

In this way, Christ calls us to reject partial, simplified understandings of one another. We are tasked with seeing our siblings in faith and the broader human community as whole, integrated beings—not merely “gay,” “straight,” “disabled,” or “Black,” but as a synthesis of all those things. And when we recognize the entirety of a person, we can offer them the kind of love and respect that God offers us.

Identity and Assumptions

In today’s fast-paced, judgment-laden world, it’s easy to fall into the trap of labeling people without truly seeing them. We hear someone’s race, their gender identity, or their sexual orientation and, almost automatically, make assumptions about their beliefs, experiences, or behaviors. This tendency not only flattens the rich diversity of the human experience but also shuts down opportunities for genuine connection.

Studies on identity formation indicate that people often struggle with their intersecting identities, especially in environments that force them to prioritize one identity over another. A 2019 study published in The Journal of Social Issues found that LGBTQIA+ individuals from marginalized racial or socioeconomic backgrounds often feel torn between different aspects of their identity, as they try to navigate spaces that don’t fully accept them as a whole person. This highlights the need for communities that embrace the whole person rather than asking them to fragment their identity for social convenience.

When we walk through life assuming we know someone’s story based on a single characteristic, we miss out on the fullness of who they are. We also reinforce societal structures that divide and diminish people, reducing them to just one aspect of their existence. Instead, the call of “Whole Lives Matter” encourages us to move beyond assumptions, to see every person as a reflection of God’s diverse and magnificent creation.

Wrestling with Identity & Faith

It’s important to recognize that many people, especially within marginalized communities, are still wrestling with the complexity of their identities. For some, reconciling the intersections of race, gender, ability, and sexuality is a life-long journey. As a community of faith, we must make space for this wrestling. We need to hold space for people who are figuring out who they are and who God is calling them to be.

In our churches and wider society, we should foster environments where people feel free to explore the complexity of their identities without fear of rejection or ridicule. The intersection of different identities can sometimes feel like a source of tension, but it can also be a source of strength. As LGBTQIA+ people of faith, many of us know what it’s like to navigate the intersection of queerness and religion. It can be challenging, but it can also lead to a deeper, richer understanding of both our faith and our identity.

Moving Forward with Compassion

If we are to take “Whole Lives Matter” seriously, we must begin by listening. We need to listen to the stories of those who have been marginalized by society—whether because of their race, their gender, their socioeconomic status, or any other aspect of their identity. And we need to listen without judgment, without rushing to impose our own understanding of who they are.

In doing so, we build bridges of compassion and empathy. We create communities where people are not only tolerated but celebrated in their wholeness. And we make space for people to continue wrestling with their identities without feeling that they have to fit neatly into preconceived boxes.

In a world that too often divides us, the call of “Whole Lives Matter” is a call to unity—unity through diversity, and wholeness through love. It is a reminder that every person we encounter is a beautiful, complex creation of God, worthy of respect and kindness. And it is an invitation to see, and love, the whole person.

The Wisdom of “Praise Allah and Tie Your Camel to the Post”

by Christopher Schouten

I learned a phrase long ago in my spiritual education from the deep well of Sufi wisdom: “Praise Allah and tie your camel to the post.” This phrase offers profound insight into the balance between faith and personal responsibility. On the surface, it appears to be a simple proverb, but its deeper meaning touches on the core of how we live our spiritual and practical lives. We are both divine AND a we are fundamentally a biological, physical reality. As I reflect on this phrase, I find it speaks volumes to me about the interplay between trust in the divine and our own responsibilities in the world, and the partnership we must create between Creator and created in order to not only live up to our own full potential, but also to create the Kin-dom of God on Earth.

The Balance of Faith and Responsibility

At its heart, this saying emphasizes the importance of combining faith with action. “Praise Allah” signifies the need for spiritual devotion and trust in a higher power. It reminds us to acknowledge and revere the divine presence in our lives, to give thanks for the guidance of the Holy Spirit and the blessings we receive. This aspect of the phrase encourages us to cultivate a relationship with the divine, to recognize the divity within all of creation, and to surrender our worries and trust that we are cared for by a loving and omnipotent presence.

However, the second part, “tie your camel to the post,” brings in the crucial element of personal responsibility. It underscores that faith alone is not enough; we must also take practical steps to ensure our well-being and the well-being of those we care for. It suggests that while we trust in the divine, we are also expected to use our wisdom, skills, and resources to take care of our duties and responsibilities. This balance prevents us from falling into the trap of passivity or fatalism, where we might otherwise expect things to happen without our active participation.

Practical Application in Daily Life

In our modern context, this wisdom can be applied in numerous ways. For instance, in our professional lives, it means that while we may trust in our abilities and the opportunities that come our way, we must also put in the necessary work and preparation to succeed. We can pray for guidance and support, but we must also draft the proposals, attend the meetings, and refine our skills.

In personal relationships, it means that while we may trust that love and harmony will prevail, we must also engage in open communication, show empathy, and put in the effort to nurture and maintain these bonds. Trust in the goodness of our relationships must be paired with the active work of caring for them.

In terms of personal health and well-being, it suggests that while we might have faith in our body’s ability to heal and thrive, we must also engage in healthy habits, seek medical advice when necessary, and take steps to care for our physical and mental health.

Contrasting with Evangelical Theology: Letting Go vs. Active Participation

Contrasting this with certain strands of evangelical theology, we see a marked difference in the approach to divine intervention and personal responsibility. Phrases like “letting go and letting God” and “Jesus take the wheel” often emphasize a more passive reliance on divine action, suggesting that believers should surrender control entirely and trust that God will handle their challenges. While this perspective can provide comfort and peace, it sometimes leads individuals to abdicate their personal accountability and responsibility. In this framework, there is a tendency to wait for divine intervention rather than actively engaging in problem-solving or taking proactive steps. “Praise Allah and tie your camel to the post” offers a counterbalance, advocating for a partnership between divine trust and human effort. It encourages believers to see themselves as co-creators with God, recognizing that while divine support is essential, their own actions and decisions are equally vital in shaping their lives. This integrated approach fosters a more dynamic and participatory spirituality, where faith and action are seen as complementary forces working together to bring about positive outcomes.

Understanding God’s Plan: Biblical Underpinnings

Determining God’s plan for our lives is a complex and deeply personal journey that involves prayer, reflection, and seeking wisdom from sacred texts. This Sufi philosophy also resonates with many biblical principles, suggesting a harmonious blend of faith and action that can indeed be seen as part of God’s plan for us.

Biblical Underpinnings

Faith and Works: The Bible consistently emphasizes the importance of both faith and works. In James 2:14-17, we read, “What good is it, my brothers and sisters, if someone claims to have faith but has no deeds? Can such faith save them? … In the same way, faith by itself, if it is not accompanied by action, is dead.” This passage highlights that true faith is demonstrated through our actions, aligning well with the Sufi emphasis on trusting in God while also taking practical steps.
Responsibility and Stewardship: The parable of the talents (Matthew 25:14-30) teaches about the responsibility of using our gifts and resources wisely. The servants who actively invested their talents were praised, while the one who hid his talent was reprimanded. This parable underscores the idea that we are expected to be proactive and responsible stewards of what God has given us.
Partnership with God: In Philippians 2:12-13, Paul writes, “Therefore, my dear friends, as you have always obeyed—not only in my presence but now much more in my absence—continue to work out your salvation with fear and trembling, for it is God who works in you to will and to act in order to fulfill God’s good purpose.” This passage reflects the dual aspect of human effort and divine guidance, suggesting that we are co-creators with God in our spiritual journey.

God’s Plan in Daily Life

Recognizing that God’s plan involves both our trust in God and our active participation can bring clarity and purpose to our daily lives. The Sufi wisdom does not contradict biblical teachings but rather complements them by emphasizing that our faith in God should inspire us to take responsible actions. By praising God and tying our camel to the post, we acknowledge that while we trust in God’s provision and guidance, we also play a crucial role in manifesting God’s plan through our efforts.

In practice, this means seeking God’s will through prayer, studying scripture for guidance, and using our God-given abilities to act responsibly and diligently in our circumstances. By doing so, we honor both the divine and our own human agency, living out a faith that is both trusting and proactive. This integrated approach can help us navigate life’s challenges with confidence, knowing that we are working in partnership with a loving and guiding God.

Pastoral Letter Regarding Christian Nationalism

by Rev. Ken Heintzelman, Senior Minister, Shadow Rock UCC

Dear Friends and Members of Shadow Rock,

It is my tendency to project where I am emotionally onto others. I think this is a human tendency that can be held in check sometimes by empathy, honesty, and objectivity. I can observe what I am feeling, know that it is my feeling, and intellectually check myself with the idea that not everyone is feeling and thinking the same way. Knowing this helps me make space in myself to hear and empathize with other people who are at different places emotionally. All of this is to say that I am feeling some despair over recent history and political events. I do not want to assume everyone is where I am. I want to be the pastor that will be present for all the people even when we may disagree on politics. The deep human needs produced by fear and grief require companionship and transcends politics and my own personal feelings.

What are you feeling? What are you thinking? How are you understanding the whirlwind of political events? Can I offer a progressive faith perspective that may be helpful to some without alienating others? I hope so.

For some, spirituality is a personal and private journey, Church is a place of refuge and is not to be tainted by the ugly events of history. Bringing politics into the worship service is to wreck the sacred time and space, and disturb the peace. I embrace a part of this as my needs sometimes draw me into retreating from the larger picture of life. I retreat from the larger picture of unfolding history to the deeper places of quiet that my soul needs. “Like a deer pants for the water brooks, so my soul pants for you, O God. (Psalm 42:1) Some events, and bringing those events into our shared sacred space, feels like we are polluting the water that promises to refresh us.

In the event of the attempted assassination of Donald Trump we wonder again what kind of society we have become. In the chaos we seek solace and order in the inner world of our spirits. We may fall back and into the promises of a loving and faithful God. The attributes of God and the events of the world do not match up so we retreat in the attributes and promises of God and away from the events of the world.

For me, as a person with a progressive expression of Christian faith, I have the personal spiritual experience and all the feelings that go with it. However, I can not cut myself off from wondering, seeing, and hoping about God’s higher purposes working through the larger picture of history. This is the rub. There may be several different ways for people to interpret God’s working through the larger picture of history. The idea that God is actively involved with history is part of our Covenant but I think we struggle with knowing what it means, sharing a unified understanding, and embracing it.

For example, look at the different interpretations of the failed assassination attempt of Donald Trump.

Donald Trump survived the assassination attempt because the assassin failed.
Donald Trump survived the assassination attempt because God intervened somehow.
Donald Trump survived the assassination attempt because God intervened somehow, and such intervention is proof of his rightness for America..
Donald Trump survived the assassination attempt because such is the randomness of life. No rhyme, no reason, no meaning.
Donald Trump survived the assassination attempt because such is the randomness of life, yet God’s love, peace, and justice will be the last word in history.

There are probably more ways to interpret the event but I want to focus on # 3 and # 5. Number 3 represents Christian nationalism and number 5 represents a progressive Christian interpretation. First let us look at # 3 and Christian nationalism.

What is Christian nationalism?

The Freedom Forum shares the following as it tries to answer the question.

There is no clean and tidy definition of Christian nationalism since it is not a formal religious denomination or sect with a stated doctrine of beliefs; nor is there any single person or council leading Christian nationalism that oversees followers.

Generally, religious scholars, sociologists and others who study Christian nationalism describe it as a belief that the United States is a country defined by Christianity. In practice, this means:

The government should take steps to keep the country’s Christian roots and identity intact.
The government should advocate Christian values and pass laws and enact policies that reflect those values.
The separation of church and state is not a formal law that should be followed.
God’s plan is for the U.S. to be a successful nation based in Christian ideals.

If you are a person in the camp of Christian nationalism then it is an easy step to believe Donald Trump survived the assassination attempt because God intervened somehow, and such intervention is proof of his rightness for America. Is Christian nationalism a legitimate political and religious ideology? They certainly would say it is and many would go so far to say it is the only legitimate political and religious ideology. For the moment let it stand as is but let us outline how a progressive Christian might understand the same event.

My progressive faith steers me to think Donald Trump survived the assassination attempt because such is the randomness of life. The bullet misses Trump but takes the life of Corey Comperatore. My progressive faith steers me to think such is the randomness of life. I am not feeling complacent in a “que sera sera” attitude. I stand in awe of the randomness of life and grieve with the family who lost a husband and father. When we try to over-simplify or over-explain the fairness or unfairness of suffering we find our answers to be inadequate, especially to those who are grieving. Rather than provide answers it is better to offer comfort, presence, and suffer with people. A progressive Christian perspective leaves me with questions and forces me into a decision. Do I rage at the way life is or do I trust the way life is with all of its horrors and beauties? I choose trust and I encourage you to do so as well.

A Christian nationalism perspective depends on bad theology, bad history, and an unholy wedding of religion and politics. In Christian nationalism religion and politics do whatever they need to do to justify each other. In a progressive Christian faith, religion and politics are in a creative tension holding each other accountable to humanity’s greatest ideals.

This pastoral letter has nothing to do with who you support in the presidential race. It only offers competing perspectives on one historical event. I hope it helps people to understand how there can be such disparate views of the same event, and in turn equip you with clarity that can help you cope, heal, and hope.

I want to end where I began. I am my own person with my own political and religious views and I am your pastor. At the point when you are hurting, grieving, or dying, I do not care what political sign you have in your yard or who you vote for. In that moment I only want to assure you that you are not alone, you do not need to be afraid, and you are loved. This is my greatest sacred privilege and responsibility.

Peace!

Pastor Ken

Reclaiming Evangelism: The Good News

by Rev. Dr. Derrick Elliott

Come on, you can say it? I am sure you can! I help you out; e.van.ge.lism. Now, does that feel good? It’s not a bad word, after all! All kidding aside, in recent times, the word “evangelism” has become a controversial and, to some, an unpopular term. For many, it conjures images of aggressive proselytizing or insincere attempts to convert others. Some might say this word is pure, unadulterated hate. Don’t worry; I was once there myself early in my faith walk! This perception has led some siblings to shy away from the term altogether. However, as we reflect on our mission as followers of Christ, we must reclaim and redefine evangelism in a way that speaks to the heart of the Gospel.

From the scriptures, Jesus’ command in the Great Commission is clear: “Go therefore and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and the Holy Spirit, teaching them to observe all that I have commanded you” (Matthew 28:19-20). This call to evangelism is not about coercion or manipulation. Instead, it is about sharing the transformative love and grace received through Jesus Christ.

At its core, evangelism is about spreading the Good News. It is about sharing our personal experiences of God’s love and grace. It offers hope, peace, and a sense of belonging to those who may feel lost or marginalized. When we share our faith authentically and lovingly, we embody the message of Jesus and invite others to experience the fullness of life that He offers.

In addition, it is essential to differentiate between proselytizing and evangelizing. Proselytizing often involves a forceful or insistent approach to converting someone to a particular faith, sometimes disregarding the individual’s journey or beliefs. We have seen this happen in church history. Some examples are the missionary’s treatment of Native Americans, the indigenous people of Hawaii, and the enslavement of people from the African diaspora. On the other hand, evangelizing is about witnessing the love of Christ through our actions and words, inviting others to explore faith respectfully and compassionately. Evangelism is rooted in genuine relationship-building and empathy rather than persuasion and pressure.

In our modern context, evangelism should be reimagined as an act of love and service. It involves listening to others, understanding their struggles, and offering a message of hope that speaks to their needs. It is about building genuine relationships and demonstrating the love of Christ through our actions. As St. Francis of Assisi famously said, “Preach the Gospel at all times. When necessary, use words.”

As we strive to live out our calling to evangelize, let us remember that evangelism is not about increasing church membership or winning debates. It is about sharing Jesus’s life-changing message in a humble, compassionate, and authentic way. It is about witnessing the power of God’s love in our lives and inviting others to join us on this faith journey.

When we look into the history of the United Church of Christ, we are blessed with five historic streams that shape our identity and mission: Congregational, Christian, Evangelical, Reformed, and Afro-Christian. I am not naive about the history of some of these streams regarding evangelism. I recognize the need to address restorative justice for past wrongs and harms associated with evangelistic efforts.

However, each stream can bring some unique perspective and rich heritage that informs how we live out our faith and engage in evangelism.

-The Congregational Stream emphasizes the local church’s autonomy and the importance of community and covenant.

-The Christian Stream focuses on the unity of all believers and the simplicity of the Gospel message.

-The Evangelical Stream calls us to a personal relationship with Jesus Christ and a commitment to sharing the Good News.

-The Reformed Stream reminds us of the sovereignty of God and the importance of continuous reform and renewal.

-The Afro-Christian Stream highlights African American Christians’ rich spiritual traditions and resilience, emphasizing justice, liberation, and communal worship.

By embracing the diverse gifts and insights from these streams, we can approach evangelism with a deeper understanding and a broader perspective. This diversity enriches our witness and allows us to connect with people from various backgrounds and experiences.

We must also acknowledge the challenge of biblical illiteracy in our society. ( I have more to say about this topic in a blog post) Many people today lack a basic understanding of the Bible and its teachings. This makes our role as evangelists (Yes, that’s you)even more critical. We are called to be educators and guides, helping others to discover the richness of Scripture and its relevance to their lives. Through thoughtful study, compassionate teaching, and living out biblical principles, we can address this gap and bring the transformative power of God’s Word to a broader audience.

In a world that is often filled with division and despair, the message of the Gospel is more needed than ever. Let us not be afraid to embrace the call to evangelize. Let us now reclaim this word and live it out in a way that reflects the heart of Jesus. By doing so, we can bring the light of Christ into the lives of those around us and fulfill our mission to spread the Good News to all corners of the earth.

For resources, check out this link: https://www.evangelismconnections.com

Keeping the Faith for Passover

by Rev. James Briney

When I was five years of age my family moved to a different neighborhood. For a year we stayed in the house of my paternal grandfather, along with my Great Aunt Olive and Uncle Bruce, who lived in his basement.

For 25 years they had worked as missionaries in India, and with Mahatma Gandhi, to build a hospital and a school. In retirement they were living on a $22 a month pension.

My earliest memories include eating pieces of toast with applesauce for breakfast. A simple prayer accompanied the simplest of meals. My Uncle Bruce was a theologian and mathematician.

Listening to what he had to say, about matters of faith and belief, fed my interest in learning. I came to believe that Jesus is the son of man; because Jesus is the best the world has to offer in terms of love, forgiveness, and grace.

Jews were among the first to recognize Jesus as having messianic characteristics. In the teachings of Jesus, Nicodemus recognized Jesus as worthy of the titles: ‘Son of God,’ ‘King of Kings,’ and ‘Prince of Peace.’

When my father, mother, two younger sisters, and I moved to a house of our own, I discovered the Kampner family. We shared a common driveway. I soon realized I belonged in the Kampner household. On Sunday mornings, for over ten years, I waited for the phone to ring, knowing the call meant I would be going with Mr. Kampner to Irving’s Delicatessen in Pontiac, Michigan to buy New York onion rolls, lox, bagels, and cream cheese.

The phone always rang. The Kampner boys, Stan and Paul, were home from the University of Michigan on weekends. I managed to eat as much as they did.

On other occasions I read at Passover seders. The table was set with a place for Elijah. During my first seder, the doorbell rang, just as I asked: “How is this night different from all other nights?” Mr. Kampner told me to go let Elijah come in. It was the paperboy.

Mr. Kampner was president of his Rotary Club. He took me to their annual father and son banquet. He was president of his synagogue too.

On a Friday evening, I walked to services with Mr. Kampner. As I stood with nine Jewish men, Mr. Kampner turned to me and declared: “Jimmy, tonight you are a man, you make our minyan.”

For six decades the Kampner family was part of my life.

Before Mr. Kampner died, I traveled to see Moe and Rose Kampner in California. I sought out Stan, and reconnected with Paul shortly before he died in Chicago. Stan came to visit me.

For two millennia the messiah has come again, and again, season after season; because traditional services remind believers of the life of Jesus, his death, and resurrection. Such historic rites and rituals can lead to understanding, and community.

I last saw Mrs. Kampner in California on the occasion of her 100th birthday. Upon seeing me, she exclaimed: “Jimmy!” “Who’s Jesus?” I said: “Rose, Jesus was a Jew. Christians believe Christ will come again. Since Jews believe the messiah is yet to come, next time around everybody’s happy.”

When I prepared and served the sacrament of holy communion, I wore a Tallit. The prayer shawl of a rabbi invited me to think about the history and traditions that Jews and Christians have in common.

Sometimes I think about what I learned in religious studies, and what I have experienced in relationships with friends and colleagues of various faiths, traditions, and cultures.

When I do think about such things, I recall the kindness and acceptance I experienced in the home of the Kampner family.

Before I moved to Oro Valley, I officiated for the funeral of Ivan Bootzin, in Medford, Wisconsin. The secretary of a rabbi in Wausau helped to prepare me. I wore Ivan’s kippah.

It was the largest funeral in the history of the city. In addition to standing room only, inside the fourth-generation funeral home, dozens more stood outside, in the dead of winter, listening to the service on a loudspeaker.

Jews were pleased, relieved, and satisfied. Christians found the service to be familiar. I had selected prayers we have in common, from the Gates of Prayer for Shabbat and Weekdays.

So, who is Jesus? Jesus is the one who embodies the spirit of God in Christ. Jesus is the one who invites us to love one another in his name. When I am asked if I believe Jesus is the messiah, I say: “Who else you got?”

Put it to death

by Rev. Deb Beloved Church

“Sometimes things need to be destroyed so that something new can be created.” So my spiritual director said to me on the first occasion of our meeting–a meeting I had sought as I desperately tried to make sense of my growing understanding that my marriage was coming to an end.

I recently came upon that same idea in the book we’re discussing in our Sunday morning Adult Education class, [Where We Meet: A Lenten Study of Systems, Stories, and Hope, by Rachel Gilmore, Candace Lewis, Tyler Sit, and Matt Temple]: “Sometimes things must die so that something more in harmony with the (kin)dom of God can emerge.” (Where We Meet, p. 50)

Certainly, that idea is not new, nor is it limited to those two occurrences! Indeed, those statements encapsulate a central tenet of the Christian faith: that resurrection comes only after death. That new life comes only after something dies. That rebirth into a new way of being comes only after the old way of being is no more.

And while we might long for that resurrection while it’s still far off, and welcome that new life once it comes, and celebrate that new way of being once we’re in it–we generally do not like the prospect of “it” [the thing that needs to die, whatever it is] being no more; we’re typically quite resistant to the process of it dying; we’re quite uncomfortable with the reality of its death…

And yet…it is only through death that we get to resurrection.

And so, in these remaining two weeks of Lent, I invite you to join me in considering, what is it that needs to die in our lives so that something new–and more in alignment with God’s desires for peace, for healing, for joy, for reconciliation, for wholeness, for justice, for abundance–and all of that for all of God’s creation!–might be born?

Perhaps we need to put to death a grudge, or a desperately-held, long-harbored hurt. Or our certainty about what’s right and who’s right. Or a hurtful relationship or a self-destructive habit.

Perhaps we need to put to death a diminished view of ourselves or others, or possibly, a grandiose view of ourselves or others. Or the lens through which we look, that judges others as less than–or more than–based on their education or ethnicity or religious affiliation or lack thereof. Or our blindness to our privilege or our secret and subtle self-righteousness.

Perhaps we need to put to death our secret, soul-sucking excesses–alcohol, shopping, fault-finding, Facebook, working, gambling, people-pleasing, eating, or simply endlessly comparing ourselves to others.

What would you add? What needs to die in our lives, both individually and collectively, right here and right now, so that something new and more in alignment with God’s desires for each of us and all of us and for all of God’s creation might be born?

Where do we need death, so that we might prepare for and truly experience resurrection??

Peace and courage be with us all.

Pastor Deb

You started out as dirt

by Rev. Deb Beloved Church

“You are dust, and to dust you shall return.” (Genesis 3:19b)

Some version of that verse is typically said as the sign of the cross is being made with ashes on someone’s forehead on Ash Wednesday.

For example, as I was “ashing” folks who came to White Rock Presbyterian Church last Wednesday, I said this: “Remember–you came from dust, and to dust you will return…”

[Each year I think maybe I’ll use the late Rev. Eugene Peterson’s interpretation as found in The Message: “You started out as dirt, you’ll end up dirt.” That strikes me as even more powerful! It is, in fact, what I said when I blessed the horses of a friend the next day, using actual dirt from the ground on which we were standing… Maybe next year I’ll use it with the two-legged creatures, and see how it lands for us all…]

“Tempranillo, remember that you came from dirt,

and to dirt you will return…”

And since this year Ash Wednesday happened to also be Valentine’s Day, here’s another way to think about it:

At first glance, it seemed strange to have those two holidays (or more better, perhaps, holy days) fall on the same date, but looking back, I can’t help but reflect that perhaps it was truly a gift…

Might the occurrence of our cultural celebration of loving and being loved on the same day that we who are people of faith intentionally acknowledge our mortality, somehow enhance both of those central aspects of our humanity–the relational albeit finite nature of our existence?

None of our human loves—whether of a child, parent, partner, sibling, cousin, friend, etc., or a non-human companion—will last forever. We will all someday die, and those loves in their present form will come to an end. All living things are mortal and finite.

And while that truth can be heartbreakingly painful to acknowledge, might it also make our loving more sweet? Might it make our time together more cherished? Might it make our conflicts more critical to resolve? Might it generate more urgency for us to show up more fully and more authentically? Might it make us more grateful for the opportunities we have to love and be loved?

Hmmm…

We are approaching the second Sunday of Lent already; Ash Wednesday feels like a distant memory. Perhaps as we move further into this holy season, we can not only consider our mortality, not only allow greater recognition of our sin, not only attempt to see with greater clarity the ways we hide our true selves, not only make more deliberate efforts to turn back to God… But we can also hold on to and celebrate that in the midst of our flawed, finite, and finicky humanity, we love and are loved by the humans and non-humans in our lives, and by God.

Yes, we are dust and to dust we will return. Yes, we started out as dirt and we’ll end up dirt. Yes, we were born and we will die. We. will. die.

And…in the midst of that—and before that, and after that, and beyond that—we are loved. We are loved absolutely, and unconditionally, and unceasingly, by the God who created us out of dust, and who created the dust.

Thanks be to God!

“Seen by [the James] Webb [Space Telescope] in unprecedented detail, Sagittarius C is a star-forming region about 300 light-years away from the supermassive black hole at the Milky Way’s center. (https://www.flickr.com/photos/nasawebbtelescope/53344798019/in/gallery-zexonaz-72157720865766128/)

Return to the deep sources

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

Return to the deep sources, nothing less
Will nourish the torn spirit, the bewildered heart. . .
Will teach the stiff hands a new way to serve,
To carve into our lives the forms of tenderness.

“Return to the deep sources,” wrote poet May Sarton. “Nothing less will nourish the torn spirit, the bewildered heart.” The seasons of the Christian calendar—Advent, Christmas, Epiphany, Easter, and Pentecost—Lent can lead us back to such deep sources. Whether we live in New Mexico or elsewhere, the Christian seasons call us to particular places—a stable in Bethlehem, a wedding in Cana, the courts of Herod, and a hill called Calvary. Sometimes the journey to such places can be hard. But, it also holds the promise of healing and strength, even new life.

In the Middle Ages, Christians went on pilgrimages to the holy places of the Christian story, like Jerusalem or Rome. For those who couldn’t undertake such treks, cathedrals had labyrinths as a way to go on pilgrimage without leaving home.

The liturgical year of the Christian church offers us a “pilgrimage in time.” Like those medieval journeys to Jerusalem or the labyrinth’s path to the sacred center, the Christian year calls us time and again to find our place alongside people like Moses in the Sinai wilderness or Mary at Calvary. With them, we find our way home to God, be it from the slavery of Egypt or the grief of the cross.

Lent in particular calls us to return to the deep sources. Step into the sanctuary and you know you’re in a different world from the week just past. Gone are the colors and candles of Epiphany and Mardi Gras, replaced with a purple banner with a thin red cross in its center. Just as we give up things for Lent, the sanctuary itself is stripped-down to its essence this season.

The same is true musically. For six weeks, we neither sing nor say “Alleluia” or “Hallelujah.” Monastic chants, spirituals from a time of suffering, hymns from the heart—the music is often in a minor key, sometimes a cappella. Services end with no postlude.

We use ancient prayers of confession, with phrases like “lost and strayed” or “erred from thy ways.” They sound harsh and unfamiliar, just like the barrenness of the sanctuary and the dissonance of the music.

And that’s the point. When we come to worship in Lent, we know we are in the wilderness and we’re going to be there for a while.

But when we come to this Lenten wilderness, we also know we’re not alone. Lent begins with Jesus in the desert, where he wrestles with his demons, faces his temptations, and finds his angels. He also finds the deep sources of his courage and hope. May we find the same this Lent.

As writer Frederick Buechner says about Lent, “if sackcloth and ashes are at the start of it, something like Easter may be at the end.”

This Lent, let us take that life-giving journey together.