The following blog post was originally posted on my blog, “Letters to the Jaded Evangelical”. The blog is geared towards those who have become discouraged by the church’s intermingling with conservative politics and American ideology and who seek a purer faith. There is another way forward – and we’ll find it by focusing on Jesus. You can read more at: Blog | The Jaded Evangelical (webador.com) or on Substack: The Jaded Evangelical | SM Reed | Substack.

Anyone else have picky eaters in their house? My oldest has been a continual challenge. When he was around five, there were only about five things he would eat. Anything else would make him gag or we would have to fight over, and it just wasn’t worth it to me. I figured we could be patient in introducing new things little by little. 

That has worked… some. He eats more than five things now, but he’s still very picky about his food. For example, his food cannot touch in any shape or form. There can’t be any kind of sauce or juice or gravy. He doesn’t like food mixed together, so no pasta dishes or casseroles or even tacos – everything has to be separated and in its own place.  

Vegetables have been particularly difficult. Fruit he loves, but veggies? Nope. Until we discovered a little trick.

The key to our trick? 

Salt. 

Carrots? No, disgusting! Carrots with salt? Oh, yeah! Cooked broccoli? No, gross! Cooked broccoli with salt? Cool! Avocado? Ewww! Avocado with salt? Yummy!

It amuses me to no end. We have even gotten him to eat boiled eggs this way. Such a small thing makes a big difference.

What is it about salt that makes things taste better? What is it about salt that makes something otherwise undesirable now appealing? Who among us would eat potato chips if they weren’t covered in salt? Or French fries? Or popcorn? These beloved treats just aren’t the same without a whole bunch of salt. 

Salt is a mineral and a naturally formed compound. There is tons more salt in the world than we need for human consumption. That’s why it’s so cheap to buy in the grocery store. 

Salt is essential for human health. In any given time, we have about 250 grams of sodium running through the fluids of our bodies.

It is one of the oldest food seasonings in the world. When added to the food we eat, it can bring out the flavor. It also helps as a preservative, to keep food from spoiling so quickly. 

They had salt back in Jesus’ day, too. It was used much as we use it now, though it was more expensive back then. Sometimes Roman soldiers would be paid in salt. Which makes sense, if you know these famous words of Jesus: “You are the salt of the earth” (Matthew 5:13a). 

Interesting. We are the salt of the earth? Not God? Not the gospel? No. We are. 

What does it mean to be the salt of the Earth? 

The gospel to unbelievers can sometimes seem rather… unpalatable. The idea that we are sinners and held accountable to God. The idea that we are in need of a savior when so many of us pride ourselves on being self-sufficient. The idea that one day we will have to give account for everything we’ve done before our Creator. The idea that those who reject God and live for themselves, have chosen hell. These may be hard pills to swallow. 

Perhaps we are the salt of the Earth because it is our job to make the gospel more tasty. Not by watering it down or covering over the bad parts or changing the message. But by showering it in love, mercy, and compassion. By showing and living the positive difference it can make in one’s life and in the world. 

I fear many times our message, instead of making the gospel more desirable, has made it less so. Instead of flavoring the gospel with our love, we poison it with politics and nationalism and white supremacy, with hate and commercialism and privilege. We add a whole lot that doesn’t belong in there, making the gospel truth seem more like a lie.

It’s no wonder others are not convinced by or interested in our message. I wouldn’t want to stomach something sprinkled in cyanide, either. 

How many of us know the second part of verse 13, where Jesus says, “But if the salt loses its saltiness, how can it be made salty again? It is no longer good for anything, except to be thrown out and trampled underfoot.”

What causes salt to lose its saltiness? Impurities. When other things get mixed in with the salt, it no longer has its flavor. It no longer serves as a preservative. It’s worthless.

When our message is polluted by the things of this world, it loses its saltiness. It loses its truth. It’s worthless. It’s unpalatable. Worthy only to be thrown out and trampled underfoot.

The salt of the gospel should be about giving life: a better life here now, as well as life everlasting. The gospel should be about love. Love is not mere lip service and a few dollars thrown in an offering plate. Love is caring about someone’s well-being and promoting good in their life. Love is caring about those who are suffering in unjust systems. As Cornell West has said, “Justice is what love looks like in public.” The gospel should look and sound like Jesus.

We have so much to do to reclaim our message. I believe the Evangelical Church in America – those who truly believe in following Jesus Christ, needs to come together and make a very coherent and very public statement against Christian nationalism, fascism, white supremacy, and all the other things that have been associated with us because of our intermixing with conservative politics. We need to be clear to all the world – this is not who we are. This is not who Jesus is. We need to repent and turn back to the way of Jesus. 

But also, I think each and every person who claims to follow Jesus, needs to actually do just that and follow Jesus. Follow the way He loved and the way He cared for people. Follow His words to bring His kingdom come on Earth through meeting needs and establishing a more just society. 

If each of us were to do that, we would be the salt within our own circles. And, eventually, that salt would spread. The ripples of influence would grow. 

Until we truly were the salt of the Earth.

Everyone searched frantically, but nobody found their balloon. 

The teacher told all the students to pick up a balloon and hand it to the person whose name was written on it. Within 5 minutes, everyone had their own balloon. 

After they all settled down, the teacher said, “These balloons are like happiness. We will never find it if everyone is just looking for their own. But if we care about other people’s happiness, we’ll find ours too.”

Too much of Christian history has been us as individuals focusing on ourselves. 

Our own “Personal Salvation.” 

God is always trying to move us beyond that. 

To pay attention to the whole. 

To pay attention to the collective. 

In Exodus 3:7, God says to Moses

“I’ve clearly seen my people oppressed in Egypt. I’ve heard their cry of injustice because of their slave masters. I know about their pain. I’ve come down to rescue them.”

God shows up because God has “heard their cry of injustice.”

The Myth

There is a myth out there that people who are strong don’t complain. 

They don’t complain about the things that are wrong. 

They just grin and bear it.

Now, nobody wants to be around someone who is just complaining all the time and never does anything to try and change things. 

But being silent about issues, injustices, and things that are wrong also doesn’t change them. 

Sometimes people have a rule – “Don’t bring me a complaint unless you also bring me a solution.”

That may be the right move in some situations. 

But most of the time, the solution only comes because of the cries of injustice. 

And we’re in a culture that doesn’t want to hear it. 

It’s embedded in all kinds of little comments we make. Like the comment, “You can’t complain if you didn’t vote.” 

The sentiment behind that comment is that if you want to make change, voting is a good way to do it. 

Except, that phrase is typically geared toward one group of people…people who are left out and ignored. Usually, people who are poor, low-income, and minority groups. 

Even though people are trying to inspire other to vote with comments like that, what they actually do is silence people. 

I know countless people who do not vote because they aren’t feeling heard and nobody cares about them. 

They complain hoping somebody will listen to the injustice and harm they are experiencing. 

Actually, I lied. I don’t know “countless people.” We know the number of people who don’t vote. 

“Forty-seven percent of the voters are poor or low-wage workers.” (1) They have the lowest turnout of all groups of voters because nobody is talking about the issues and struggles they are dealing with. (The turnout among low-wage and low-income voters today is 20-22% below the average turnout).

Nobody is listening to them. Instead, in subtle, and sometimes unintentional ways, (but also in very intentional ways) they are silenced and told to not complain. 

But the very reason God shows up to rescue the Israelites from slavery in Egypt is because people who are suffering, oppressed, and in unjust situations cry out about it. 

Things change because we cry out. 

This is even true in our immediate relationships. Two people tend to have a lot more conflict when they don’t share their complaints or the ways they feel slighted or wronged. How would someone ever fix that? How would change ever come about if those things aren’t voiced? How will people ever see what’s going on?

Those things matter. 

Zora Neale Hurston was an author, documentary filmmaker and a central figure in the 1920 & 30s Harlem Renaissance (this was an explosion of African-American art, literature, music, and nightlife in NYC that was sparked when many Black people from the south fled up north).

She focused on the African-American experience and her struggles as an African-American woman. 

She said, “If you are silent about your pain, they’ll kill you and say you enjoyed it.”

Staying silent is a myth. 

God “comes down” when people cry out.

But God doesn’t show up and start hurling lightning bolts down from heaven or show up and automatically set things right.  

God comes down and gets involved by sending Moses. 

A person.

When God wants to get involved, God sends people. 

And if people are going to be sent, then people have to know that something is happening. 

We need the protests. We need the cries of injustice. We need the videos and tweets, sermons and newspaper articles. 

God is going to send people, but only if we continue to cry out about the injustice, oppression, and harm being done. 

Crying Out

My own tradition, United Methodism, calls this “Social Holiness.” We take a stand on issues of injustice and oppression, and invite people to work to better these situations. 

We literally write down and call out injustice like lack of clean water, gun violence, hunger, poverty, the death penalty, the importance of a living wage, responsible lending practices by institutions, national budgets, education reform, and the disarming nuclear weapons.

We even call out the injustice of Israel and Palestine. 

We don’t always know the answers for how to fix things…but we know that if we don’t speak about it – nothing will change.

The students protesting on college campuses are crying out about the injustice, knowing that this is how things will change. 

If we don’t say something, how will people know God is calling them?

If we don’t say something, how will people know God is sending them?

Archbishop Desmund Tutu was a Christian leader in South Africa during the time of Apartheid – when Black people were oppressed in South Africa. He helped lead the work for justice.

I love this statement that’s attributed to him: “Every church should be able to get a letter of recommendation from the poor in their community.”

Are we paying attention to the cries? Are we crying out ourselves? 

It’s easy to ignore this stuff. But we are all connected. All of these issues matter and impact all of us. 

We rise and we fall together. 

God’s Representative

Sometimes I find that being God’s representative is difficult, not because I don’t care…but because I don’t know what to do.

It all seems too complicated and more than I can handle, take on, or have the understanding for…

But a lot of times that’s because I’m trying to take on a role that isn’t mine. 

College students across the country have been protesting on their campus to call on the U.S. and their schools to stop funding Israel’s war on the Palestinian people. Thousands of innocent children, women, and civilians have been killed and are being killed. 

The students are paying attention to what they can do. They’re crying out about it and crying for change to happen, for this slaughter to stop. 

They have heard the cries and they know this is a way they can respond. 

It may not be the whole answer. 

But they know they are called to this role at this time. 

Conclusion

We can’t stay silent. 

This is the way God “comes down.” 

This is how the Kingdom of God shows up. 

It’s not a “Personal Salvation Project.”

It is about all of us being saved together. 

So may we cry out and trust God will “come down” to save us all.  

(1) https://www.commondreams.org/news/poor-people-s-campaign

I am not a Catholic. In fact, I was raised in the charismatic, protestant church in Scotland. A faith tradition which taught us that, “praying to saints” (especially Mary) was idolatry. 

This morning however, just after my husband read me the news about the escalating situation of war in Israel, Gaza, and Iran, I found myself praying with, and even to, Mary the mother of Jesus. 

For some years now, beginning in a time of deep grief, God has been “turning up” for me … with me … in me … beside me … as my Mother. The tender, loving, yet incredibly fierce and creative Life Force, which birthed our universe and our existence. An Eternal Womb in which I’m always held. This has been a wonderful “widening out” in my understanding of God and has brought great healing to my deepest wounds; in a way which only incredible intimacy can. 

But, unlike many others – who are also currently discovering the Divine Feminine Presence of God – I’ve honestly never given much thought to Mary of Nazareth, the earthly mother of Jesus. 

That was, until recently, when I spent some extended time in Mexico and found myself entranced – and frankly enchanted – by the incredibly abundant images, literally everywhere (murals, graffitied walls, bumper stickers, tattoos) of Our Lady of Guadalupe. 

For those of us without much knowledge of Catholic faith traditions, Our Lady of Guadalupe is a “Marian” apparition. That is, an appearance of Mary, the mother of Jesus, who came to an indigenous man, San Juan Diego (Cuauhtlatoatzin – Talking Eagle – was his indigenous name) in Mexico, 1531. 

The story tells us that after several divine meetings between the two: San Juan and Guadalupe. Meetings which took place over a period of several days. Meetings in which she beckoned, encouraged and instructed him; Guadalupe’s image was miraculously imprinted on this ordinary man’s cloak. This miraculous “painting” is still with us today and is available to view at the Basilica of Our Lady of Guadalupe, in modern day Mexico City.

Here’s the thing … I, as a good protestant girl, wasn’t raised to be intoxicated by the smells and bells of Catholic “superstition”.  I was taught, not to use saints as intermediaries, but to address the Divine directly and on my own behalf. In the faith tradition of my childhood, we weren’t permitted to pray to an image, nor worship idols … but, suddenly here I was, surrounded by endless, almost omnipresent, images of this Mexican-indigenous “Mary” and I found myself enamored by her. 

I snapped photos of her on every walk and at every stop sign, until my phone and Instagram account were full. I found myself sketching her over and over in my journals; researching the meanings hidden in the symbols of her dress, her pose and her face. What could this alluring … comforting … almost protecting image possibly mean!? Why did it strike me so much? How had it inspired such incredible devotion in the people of Mexico? 

As I began to allow myself to surrender to the call, I found that in drawing her … piece by piece … again and again … I was sketching out a map of God.

Much like my ancestors – the ancient Celts – with their “three leafed” Celtic knot describing the mystery of the Trinity, I discovered that the people of Mexico had also been given a symbol to aid them in their understanding of the Infinite. This map came to them through an image of Mary … a poor, brown, pregnant, unwed, teenage, praying girl.   

Of course, my firmly western, pragmatic, protestant brain could hardly handle this kind of mystery! Mary was a human girl … like me. Not God. Not the Divine one. Not even the Holy Spirit, who I had come to know, so tenderly, as Mother. I wrestled with the “either – or” of the whole situation and rubbed my eyes again and again in frustration at this new vision of oneness that God was so kindly showing me about Herself and her saints; her dearly loved ones. 

During the last couple years this oneness has sunk into my heart, where my brain couldn’t receive it. I have begun to let go and trust. Christ is the Vine and I am one of the branches. I cannot find the line where God ends and I begin, so why should I feel such a desperate need to draw that line anywhere else? 

This morning, as we listened to the news coming out of the Middle East: that war may escalate and more  mothers will be torn from their children, more husbands may lose their wives, more babies may be blown up, orphaned  and abandoned, I found the words of the Hail Mary prayer … a prayer which I learned accidentally, growing up  surrounded by Catholic neighbors in a nation which was fiercely divided by religion … I found the words of Hail Mary, tumbling through my mind and out my mouth. 

Mary, that most Middle Eastern of mamas. She who knows the terror of occupation, the constant threat of murder. She, who watched her dearest child be ripped from her life by political mob violence. 

Mary, this Mary, who still dared to call herself “blessed” in spite of it all. Mary, who trusted in the resurrection long enough to see the crucifixion through. 

I found myself praying to Mary, with Mary, through Mary and with the Holy Spirit which binds us both together as children of God … praying for the mothers who are caught in this awful war. 

“Hail Mary”   

Mary … my heart salutes you, my heart salutes your heart … and through your heart I acknowledge and  listen … to God, who is our Deepest Mother. 

“full of grace” 

Through you I see the grace that is ours 

You who said, “let it be” 

You who opened yourself wide, in deep trust 

who gave your “yes” to God

Your yes to pain, your yes to joy, your yes to life and your yes to death … even the death of your own son 

“Blessed are you among women, and blessed is the fruit of your womb, Jesus” 

This part of the prayer makes me choke with tears, 

because you are a human woman, a mother, a fruitful womb 

just like me, just like our sisters 

a woman who lived under the fierce violence of Occupation 

an Occupation which killed children and tore babies from their mothers 

You, like so many, had to flee to save your child’s life, 

to save him from a deadly force, breathing out violence against you, 

threatening to take his life – his tiny, precious life – away. 

We look at the horror unfolding in your homeland, and we wonder, “How could anyone slaughter children?” Oh Mary 

Oh dear Mother-God 

You know the fear and terror the mothers of Gaza and Israel face 

And yet still, 

still you called yourself, “Blessed”! 

You, whose very name, Miriam, means “sea of bitter tears”. 

You, whose son was murdered by mob-violence 

by an absurd system, calling itself just! 

You who knew agony as deep as the sea 

You named yourself, “Blessed”. 

You even foretold that we would call you “Blessed”. 

By doing this, you teach us 

To call ourselves 

To call all mothers … 

To call all children, fruit of our wombs 

“Blessed” 

“Holy Mary, Mother of God” 

You, who carried God in your womb 

who, like all of us, carried the Divine within you 

who, like all mothers, grew and bore, loved and raised, a child of the Creator. 

“Pray for us, now and at the hour of our death” 

Pray for us …now and in all our deaths 

our daily deaths and losses 

our minute-to-minute worsening griefs 

too deep for words 

pray for us. 

Holy Spirit pray for us … within us … around us … over us. 

Your hand is always on our eyes – to light the way 

Your hand is always on our hearts – to still the storm of panic   

Your hand is always at our backs – to catch us as we fall 

You, Spirit, Mother of all mothers, hold us, carry our wounds. 

shed our tears and grieve our deepest grief   

Pray for us Mother, 

As we pray with and for the mothers, the sisters, the daughters, in Israel and Gaza, who are all your children. They are all us

We are all them 

within your holy love 

Amen. 

Let it be. 

In closing, please allow me to share with you why I feel it is such an incredible gift for me, as someone raised protestant, to feel invited by the Spirit to meditate on the words of the “Hail Mary” prayer.  

The place in which I was raised, the west of Scotland, was incredibly divided for generations – politically,  socially and religiously – between Catholic and Protestant. As you likely know, Northern Ireland, just thirty miles across  the sea from us, experienced decades of life-wrecking violence. After generations of hatred and loss – peace,  reconciliation, understanding – these things just seemed impossible. Yet in recent decades they have miraculously arrived.  

This Easter Sunday, just a few weeks ago, my parents sent me pictures of their Easter gathering in Scotland.  Starting at the local Catholic church, members from various denominations walked together from church to church,  singing, sharing and celebrating the resurrection together.  

It’s not just that it’s easier, or more pleasant, or a better life for all, when we have peace – but to feel actively  encouraged by the Spirit to engage in and understand one another’s prayers, surely this can bring us one step closer to  seeing an answer to Jesus’ own prayer for the human race: that we might one day, be one, and find ourselves empowered  to truly love one another.  

This must be our prayer too, not just for Israel and Palestine, but for the whole world. 

Another evangelical acquaintance asked where in the scriptures are Christians called to be humanized and reported a quick Google search showed “humanising” being not a particularly Christian thing. Perhaps the Google algorithms found more examples of fundamentalist, evangelical Christianity’s record of dehumanizing the gospel even though admirable pockets of evangelicalism still engage in humanitarian enterprises. The challenge to expose the humanizing motif in the Christian scriptures prompted me to review my post-evangelical journey of thirty-plus years with the figure of Jesus.

The lack of explicit references to the humanizing focus of the gospel in the Christian scriptures is not unique when it comes to claims of scriptural support for beliefs in the Christian faith tradition. There are many things those who claim the identity of Christian do that are not explicitly called for in the scriptures. For example, there is no call for Christians to construct buildings and call them churches and plant them all over the planet. But it is something of an obsession in the Christian tradition. It grew from seeing adherents of other religious traditions erecting places of worship and Christians wanting to compete (despite fairly strong hints in the early New Testament writings for followers of Jesus to not create communities of faith dependent on man made artefacts as the focus of the worshipping community). But, churches in buildings have a history of doing much good so the tradition continues. More confounding are the many things that are explicitly called for in the scriptures that Christians do not do – like communities of faith sharing their resources to ensure all members enjoy prosperity and do not experience poverty.

When it comes to the claim that the gospel presented by Jesus was mostly about humanising people, I start at the beginning of the Jewish and Christian scriptures. The creation story consistently emphasises that humans are made in the image of the creator. The humans created were judged by the creator to be the perfect expression of humanity due to their unimpeded relationship with their creator. The story of the fall is a description of the perfect humans being seduced into believing independent, self-preservation was the point of life (the serpent’s tantalising offer) rather than the communal care of all people to enable them to experience the humanity with which the creator imbued them.

Over the next few thousand years, according to the Old Testament scriptures, people identified as prophets continually called those who claimed to follow Yahweh to return to treating all people as human and stop treating some (or many) of them like animals to be used and abused for personal gain and preservation. In other words, the call was to humanise others to enable people to have an experience as close as possible to that of the first humans before the fall.

When the prophet project manifestly failed to bring people back to the creator’s vision of humanity, the New Testament scriptures announce a new strategy. The use of the terms “new creation,” “new Adam,” “son of God,” and “oneness of Father and Son” indicate the presentation of a repeat, perfect expression of humanity from the creator. This expression provided a perfect example of humanity for people to follow through his uninterrupted communion with the creator. Moreover, it included the ability to lead all humans to be engaged in becoming better expressions of perfect humanity and helping others become the same through entering into closer communion with the creator.

When we read the stories about Jesus’ sayings and actions in the gospels in this light, we see him explicitly and deliberately opposing the beliefs and acts of the Judaist religious tradition the prophets had called out that had dehumanised many in their communities through deprivation, exclusion, marginalisation, and dogmatism. The theme of Jesus’ words and actions shows a strong commitment to provision, inclusion, incorporation, and openness to other perspectives on previously non-negotiable beliefs. One of the strongest calls for followers of Jesus to be engaged in the enterprise of humanising others and themselves is in Matthew 25:31-46. Here Jesus as the judge is portrayed as excluding from eternity in the presence of the creator those who simply believed the right things but dehumanised others. Even those who appeared not to believe the right things but manifestly engaged in Jesus’ humanising enterprise were welcomed into eternity.

The lack of results in a Google search on “humanizing and Christianity” is bewildering. There is a reasonable body of literature that argues somewhat compellingly that authentic following of Jesus produces the truest form of humanism founded on an understanding of a creator whose desire was to create perfect humans with whom to have a meaningful relationship. However, this is one perspective on what the gospel is and there are many more that make sense also. I prefer this perspective but accept that it does not make sense for everyone who claims the identity of Christian. They are welcome to whatever perspective enables them to explain why they call themselves Christian. I no longer claim the identity of Christian and prefer to identify as a humanizing follower of Jesus – but that is just what makes sense to me.

A simple answer comes quickly, like a response whispered back to my doubts: I’m here to live a life of community, prayer, and service. I want my life centered around those three things. With community, prayer, and service at the center of my life, I might grow into a better version of myself, a better Christian and disciple of Jesus. These are the quick answers, in this inner conversation I go through every week or so.

I daydream about how it could work. Maybe I could gather a group of my friends and we could get a place together, then let people who are homeless live with us too. We could offer meals around our table and host prayer and workshops about social justice for the public. I guess what I want is a life like how Catholic Workers I know live. Would the Catholic Worker lifestyle fit me better? Would it feel more natural to live in a Catholic Worker house than hanging out in these old buildings, between these institutional walls?

Some friends have been sending messages, asking me if I’ve read The Irresistible Revolution: Living as an Ordinary Radical, by Shane Claiborne. Once I do, I weep as I take in Shane’s story and learn about the “new monastics.” I’m enamored by the description of how Shane and his friends live in an intentional community in one of the poorest neighborhoods in Philadelphia and serve their neighbors. I want to live simply with other Christians. I want to serve the marginalized too. That’s what Jesus modeled for us. I want to be close to the poor, close to Jesus. How is being a novice helping me to become a more radical Christian?

How could the structures, expectations and traditions of the Franciscan Sisters offer me freedom to serve the poor and radically follow Jesus like Shane and his friends are doing? I feel stuck and confused as I try to think it through, try to imagine how being a Sister will free me.

Sitting in the silent adoration chapel, I muse about my confusion and bob my head in prayer. Then, one afternoon, something happens inside me: I can only describe it as a widening in my heart. It feels like an opening, a gap that allows some light to soften the doubts tangled inside. This is where I am. I’m here with these good women. I’m lucky to be with them. They’re amazing! In the rays of light falling into me, a cavern is created for the Spirit to whisper. As quickly as I wondered why I haven’t yet left, I know why I’m here.

It’s the mothers. The spiritual mothers. The roots, the depth, the way that this form of religious life means I’m now in a beautiful web of connection, tradition.  The spiritual mothers are the women I’m interacting with daily. They are the gray-haired and stooping ones, who embrace me with their hugs, prayer, and notes of encouragement and love.

Then my mind flips through timelines and zooms to the spiritual mothers of the Middle Ages. It is St. Clare of Assisi and her Poor Ladies, in San Damiano. The mystics, and bold voices who spoke to power and advocated for reforms. Go back to Rome, St. Catherine of Siena told the pope who was lingering at Avignon! St. Teresa of Avila, outgoing (like me), and deep and intense, who was sought after for her spiritual wisdom, for her Interior Castle.

Being part of the Franciscan Sisters means I’m amazingly part of this lineage too.

These holy women are my mothers, my church, they are the reason I stay. Somehow, they help me know that I belong to this mystery, this communion. Somehow all of them are mine. I stare at the altar, the Blessed Sacrament gleaming behind the glass of the monstrance and I know: I’m their daughter, a little restless and weak, but I’m here for them, ready to learn.

Several years ago, I wrote Shane Claiborne and thanked him for writing The Irresistible Revolution. He wrote back, on the back side of a piece of scrap paper a hand-written response:

January Something 2009
Sister Julia —
Your letter warmed my heart. Thank you.
Sorry for the delay, it seems I stay behind on letters, but love writing—after all,
it’s an important Christian past time.
I admire your hope and discontentment—and certainly the Church needs both—it
is a beautiful thing to hear in your words the fiery passion of Francis and Clare—and the
humility to submit and seek the wisdom of elders. I’m also on an unfolding journey of
spiritual direction and discernment as I seek our Lover Jesus. Our communities and “new
monasticism” has its charm and fresh charism it also has its challenges and
vulnerabilities—and I think stability and supporting celibate singles, formation…are all
things we still are figuring out. So pray for us—I certainly will keep you in my prayers as
you continue the work of Francis and Clare “repairing the ruins of the Church.” You are
a gift to the FSPA. Send my love to all the saints and sinners there. May we continue to
become the Church we dream of.
Your brother—Shane Claiborne

Tucked inside the envelope I find a prayer card—with the classic peace prayer of St. Francis printed on one side and an image of Francis on the other—a tiny little plastic baggie filled with about a teaspoon of sand, and a rectangle of white paper with words printed on it: “This dirt is from outside San Damiano in Assisi, where little brother Francis heard God whisper: ‘Repair my Church which is in ruins.’” And he started working. May the repairs continue in us.

I want to scream with joy, to run around and tell all the neighbors about my mail. But I sit still, reading the letter over and over, soaking in its message of encouragement along with the affirmation of what I’ve been praying about: I’m here, I’m a Franciscan Sister, not because the community or the Church is perfect, but because, somehow, it is home. In this home, I get to serve. I give of myself and try to help the suffering parts of Christ’s body be healed, repaired. I hope I do; I hope I can.

Excerpt from For Love of the Broken Body: A Spiritual Memoir, by Julia Walsh. Rhinebeck, NY: Monkfish Publishing, March 2024. Used by permission of the publisher.

When you read the obituaries, you notice patterns in how people talk about life and loss. There are some key phrases in particular that, while fading over time, are still prevalent. Statements such as “died at home.” In the community in which I live, it is not uncommon for such a phrase to accompany death from overdoses.

I, like many of you, live in a community that the opioid crisis has deeply impacted. A situation that the Church universal seems to be falling in the face of. Before the pandemic, I have always had a congregation that has hosted Narcotics Anonymous or Alcoholics Anonymous meetings. One Church went so far as to offer their building to any group that would like to use it to share what had been entrusted to them. However, following the pandemic, I do not see as many churches willingly reopening their doors to these critical groups. 

The Church I currently serve is temporarily hosting an NA group. The group dismantled shortly before COVID, but in the face of the stress of the pandemic, we resumed meeting for the good of the community. The building they had been using had limited space, so they asked if they could return to our building, the very place they launched from, during the months when their new home was being used as a warming shelter. 

To many in the congregation, this was a given. They had forged deep, albeit unusual, relationships with participants from this group in the past, as group members forfeited their right to be anonymous in order to be prayed with by church members as they entered meetings and served home-cooked dinners from time to time. However, that does not mean this was a given for all in the congregation. 

One Sunday, I walked into loud complaints about how the social hall and downstairs bathrooms were messy and that water had been left running. While those issues certainly needed to be addressed, they did not need to be aired to the congregation. A bit later, I spoke with the person voicing such complaints, and I was dismayed when he said, “I just don’t understand why we need to help those people, Pastor.”

His words echoed in my head and heart for days to come before finally penning this article to all churches about why we need to reach out to people in need, people suffering from the devastating effects of addiction. First, it is not “those people” but beloved children of God who have a name and a story and deserve to be treated with the dignity that we would afford anyone else. Jesus is pretty clear in articulating that we are to love God with all we have and all we are and to love our neighbors as ourselves. I would propose that this command includes our neighbors struggling with addiction. So, what does it look like to love our neighbors as ourselves in such instances? Perhaps it begins by asking about their story and creating space where the vital work of recovery can take place and not putting the sacredness of our buildings over the sacredness of human life. 

Second, treat everyone who enters your doors as if they know someone who is struggling with addiction because they probably do. There is so much shame and stigma that surrounds addiction, which extends both to the person working with the disease and their family and friends. Churches can play a role in dismantling such stigma. Thinking about the conversation that was happening one Sunday morning about the disappointment some congregants felt towards how the building was being treated – what if someone who struggled with addiction walked through the door and heard them having that conversation? Or a loved one? Or someone who was a part of the NA group? Would they have felt like they could have stayed and been part of this community, or would it have been unsafe for them?

Third, get training. Get mental health first aid training to help understand addictions. Get trained in using Narcan and carry it with you. Be informed and be prepared. As I worked through my gut reaction to hearing the statement, “I just don’t understand why we need to help those people, Pastor,” I realized that a particular family came to my mind—a beloved couple from my last Church who lost their grandson to addiction. I didn’t have the words to bring them comfort as their pastor, but I could get trained, and to this day, I carry Narcan in my bag in his memory. 

Lastly, return to the red letters in scripture. Two of the requests that came out of the disgruntled conversation about NA using the space we are stewards of as the local Church were to ask them not to park where other people want to park (i.e., on a public street but where people have their “spots”) and to ask them not to swear outside of the building. Both of these issues made the neighbors talk about what was happening at “that” Church. I said I would do neither. Why? Because I don’t want my words or actions to turn anyone away from the love of Jesus or the help in the church basement. If even one person finds a place where they are supported on their recovery journey, it is worth it to me. The scripture that kept running through my mind was Luke 5: 31-32, where Jesus said, “It is not the healthy people who need a doctor, but the sick. I have not come to invite good people but sinners to change their hearts and lives.” What if we measured our words, actions, and responses to discomfort around these red-letter words? What could change in our communities and the world? And what could change in us as the body of Christ? 

The disturbing origins of this custom Bible and the campaign to stop its proliferation.

During Holy Week, Donald Trump posted a video promoting sales for the “God Bless the USA” Bible.

The name is borrowed from a 1984 song of the same name by country singer, Lee Greenwood.

Trump’s shameless peddling of God’s word for profit garnered intense backlash and commentary online, but the saga of the “God Bless the USA” Bible goes back further than the former president’s ad.

Three years ago, I was part of a group of Christian authors who successfully lobbied our publisher Zondervan, a division of Harper Collins publishing, to refrain from entering into an agreement to print the “God Bless the USA” Bible.

HarperCollins Christian Publishing division, which includes Zondervan Publishing, owns the licensing rights to the New International Version (NIV) translation—the most popular modern English translation of the Bible.

The company, Elite Source Pro, petitioned Zondervan for a quote but never entered into an agreement. Nevertheless, marketing for the “God Bless the USA” Bible advertised it as the NIV translation.

Hugh Kirkpatrick heads up Elite Source Pro and spearheaded the effort to produce the “God Bless the USA” Bible.

In an article at Religion Unplugged, where this story first broke in May 2021, Kirkpatrick explained the origins of this custom edition of the Bible.

The idea began brewing in fall 2020 when Kirkpatrick and friends in the entertainment industry heard homeschool parents complain that public schools were not teaching American history anymore— not having students read and understand the U.S. Constitution and Bill of Rights.

“We noticed the divide in the public where some people started seeing pro-American images like the flag, the bald eagle, the statue of liberty as weaponized tools of the Republican party, and we didn’t understand that,” Kirkpatrick said.

Then in the height of Black Lives Matter protests, activists began tearing down or destroying statues and monuments they connected to racial injustice.

“In past civilizations, libraries have been burned. Documents torn down. We started seeing statutes coming down and we started seeing history for good or bad trying to be erased,” Kirkpatrick said. “That’s when we started thinking, okay how far does this erasing of history go? Love it or hate it, it’s history. But how far does it go…? Part of having these statues … is so that we don’t repeat those same mistakes.”

A custom Bible inspired by reactionary sentiment opposing Black Lives Matter protests is concerning on its own.

Kirkpatrick apparently failed to understand why Black people and many others would want to remove public homages to slaveholders and the violent rebellion they led against the United States.

Nor did Kirkpatrick manage to spot the irony of printing a Bible that honors the United States while defending statues of Confederate leaders who attacked the Union.

Once the news that Zondervan was in talks to print this Bible came out, several Christian authors who had published with them approached me about publicly opposing the deal.

All of my books, so far, have been published through Zondervan, including my forthcoming book The Spirit of Justice: Stories of Faith, Race, and Resistance.

I was eager to join in the protest.

The effort to stop the deal included an online petition that said,

Zondervan/HarperCollins has a been a great blessing to Christian publishing for many years. But a forthcoming volume damages this fine record. To commemorate the 20th anniversary of 9/11 Zondervan has licensed releasing the “God Bless the USA” Bible that will include the U.S. Constitution, Bill of Rights, Declaration of Independence and pledge of allegiance, in addition to the lyrics for the song of the same name by country singer Lee Greenwood., “God Bless the USA.” This is a toxic mix that will exacerbate the challenges to American evangelicalism, adding fuel to the Christian nationalism and anti-Muslim sentiments found in many segments of the evangelical church.

The campaign to stop Zondervan from printing the “God Bless the USA” Bible also included a letter by Shane Claiborne of Red Letter Christians and several other Christian authors, including me, as co-signers of the statement.

The letter read,

This customized Bible is a reminder that the “Christian industry” must do better to stand against the heretical and deadly “Christian” nationalism that we saw on full display on Jan. 6.  It is like a spiritual virus, infecting our churches, homes and social institutions.  Just as we take intentional actions to stop the spread of COVID, like wearing masks and staying six feet apart, we must take concrete steps to stop the spread of this theological virus.

The letter continued with a theological and pastoral word about the Bible.

We don’t need to add anything to the Bible. We just need to live out what it already says.

And if we are to be good Christians, we may not always be the best Americans.  The beatitudes of Jesus where he blesses the poor, the meek, the merciful, the peacemakers – can feel very different from the “beatitudes” of America.  Our money may say in God we trust, but our economy often looks like the seven deadly sins.  For Christians, our loyalty is to Jesus.  That is who we pledge allegiance to.  As the old hymn goes – “My hope is built on nothing less than Jesus’ blood and righteousness/ On Christ the solid rock I stand, all other ground is sinking sand.”  Our hope is not in the donkey of the Democrats or the elephant of the GOP… or even in America.

Our hope is in the Lamb.  The light of the world is not America… it is Christ.

Our endeavors were successful, and Zondervan did not enter into an agreement to publish an NIV translation of the “God Bless the USA” Bible.

That’s when Kirkpatrick decided to pursue a King James Version (KJV) of the Bible because that translation does not require copyright permission in the US.

The fruit of Kirkpatrick’s effort is an official endorsement by Donald J. Trump and Lee Greenwood and the latest push to sell “God Bless the USA” Bibles at a cost of $59.99.

The purveyors of this custom Bible fail to see, refuse to see, or simply don’t care that the United States is not a church or God’s holy nation.

They continue to spew myths that the United States was founded as a Christian nation and that the government should favor one religion for special privileges above all others.

Including political documents in a Bible translation is as blatant a blend of religion and politics as it gets. It is a physical flouting of the separation of church and state.

The multi-year crusade to produce the “God Bless the USA” Bible demonstrates that white Christian nationalism is not going away, and its advocates have the will and the means to secure their desired ends.

As we hurtle closer to the 2024 presidential election—likely a rematch between Biden and Trump—Christians must loudly and consistently oppose any movement to make Christianity synonymous with the political power structure.

We must oppose the “God Bless the USA” Bible as white Christian nationalist propaganda because Jesus said, “I will build my church,” not “I will build this nation.”

Living in the evangelical world. you learn quickly there’s a focus on “traditional family” roles. It’s also called “living out God’s ideal,” “God’s plan,” or – my favorite – having a “Biblical marriage.” In other words, evangelicals believe there is a preordained designed ideal of marriage and family. I was taught the dangers of single parenting, stay at home dads, divorce, and of course, same-sex marriage.

If you’ve never read the Bible, and if you listen to many Christians, you’d think that Christianity centers on sexual and gender identities and behaviors linked to those identities. You would think that Jesus’s main concern is for you to have traditional relationships in the model of Adam and Eve.

But if you ask any of these Christians what it means to be a follower of Jesus, they would respond with a completely different answer.

They would reply that a Christian is someone who believes or trusts in Jesus Christ, or that Jesus died and rose from the dead for them.

Or they might talk about the greatest commandment to love God and to love others.

Or they may mention possessing the fruit of the spirit: love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control. 

Or perhaps they’d point out the big three: faith, hope, and love — the greatest being love. 

In fact, the mention of marital status, sexuality, and gender are astonishingly infrequent in the Gospels and letters of the New Testament. 

But What Does Jesus Say?

When attempting to poke holes in the idea of life after death, a religious leader of a sect, which didn’t believe in the resurrection, asked Jesus about marriage after death. Jesus corrected him, “At the resurrection people will neither marry nor be given in marriage; they will be like the angels in heaven.” With these words, Jesus was revealing that marriage was temporary, cultural, and of this world (Matthew 22:23-32).

One reason Christians focus so pointedly on traditional marriage is because of a statement Jesus makes in Matthew 19. He was asked about easy divorces (for men) which was instituted under Moses. This form of divorce, which benefited men and was oppressive to women in marriages that didn’t produce children, allowed the man to cast off the “barren” wife and get another with a simple written notice (Deut. 24:1). Jesus, always looking out for the weak and voiceless, condemned this practice. He explains they should follow the example of Adam and Eve — which precedes Moses — “Moses permitted you to divorce your wives because your hearts were hard. But it was not this way from the beginning. I tell you that anyone who divorces his wife, except for sexual immorality, and marries another woman commits adultery.” (Matthew 19:8-9).

In this passage, Jesus is not creating a prohibition against same sex marriage, as many Christians mistakenly believe. He’s promoting fidelity and commitment — foundational elements of love — to combat the selfishness of a husband’s desire for an easy divorce. Jesus was asked about a loophole in the law, and Jesus closed it, pointing to the responsibility of love.

Paul

Paul addresses some debauched behaviors in his letters, admonishing the people of God to abstain from things like lying, gossip, greed, gluttony, and sexual immorality. From these passages, many have tried to prove that same sex acts and attractions are sin. They are called the clobber passages by some. Again, it is the selfishness, distractedness, and baseness to which Paul is referring. It is not the fact that it’s same-sex sexual behavior. Paul here is concerned that many are following the cravings of their bodies over following Jesus’s way of self-denial. For Paul, it was not so much about specifics — although he pointed some out to various congregations. It was about following the way of love.

Today, there are many believers and people in general that live quiet lives of love and imperfection. Some are in your church, fix your car, work alongside you, teach your children. And some are part of your family, simply pursuing the way of love and fidelity that Jesus, Paul, and other New Testament writers taught.

Some follow Jesus. Some don’t. Either way, the Christian way is to focus on the law of love, which transcends gender, sexuality, and marriage, no matter what you might hear from Christians today.

In June 2008, I and several hundred others of my radical anarchist-leaning Christian friends at PAPA (People Against Poverty and Apathy) Festival camped out on a Mennonite farm in rural Illinois. Days of sessions about everything from community to living to circus tricks culminated each evening with fantastic concerts. I distinctly remember one night in particular where we all stood transfixed and transported by a silky falsetto, hip-hop-infused rhythms, and lyrics that seamlessly wove themes of God’s justice with an intimate, affective spirituality. After singing an anti-capitalist anthem called “Zion and Babylon,” the singer was called back for the only encore demanded by the crowd of PAPA Festival that year. He sat down and riffed on one word—“Hallelujah” for 3 minutes straight, to rousing applause and cheers. 

These were my people. I had just graduated from college a few weeks before and had always felt an outsider among evangelicals in my college fellowship who seemed preoccupied with private sin and faith and gave a pass to President Bush despite his war-driven presidency. Finding other Christians on and off campus who seemed to connect faith and justice gave me hope that the faith I professed wasn’t doomed to irrelevance in seeking the kind of world the Bible declares is God’s true vision. PAPA Festival was my Mecca; here were hundreds of people who loved Jesus deeply while shouting down hierarchies and capitalism and war and for a few days tried, in the words of Catholic Worker co-founder Peter Maurin, to create a mini-society where it was easier to be good. It was the first time in my life that I felt like I had found my true kindred. 

Josh Garrels was the singer who took the crowd to a mystical place that night at PAPA. When I got home, I found his MySpace page and started telling everyone I knew about this fantastic musician who had found a way to invite listeners on a compassionate spiritual journey that involved rejecting the material violence thrust on us by a corrupt system. For years afterward, I listened to his music and invited others to do so. On one of our first dates, my now-wife and I spent the evening listening to a new album from him. Josh Garrels symbolized something important to me: there was some good left in evangelicalism. 

Fast forward to March 12, 2024: Garrels posted on social media that he had been on the Wild at Heart podcast with his “dear friend” John Eldredge to talk about his new single, “Watchman.” Eldredge’s mark on evangelicalism comes from his book on Christian masculinity, Wild at Heart, and its companion for women Captivating. Eldredge’s books and focus on “biblical manhood”— another term for palatable patriarchy— are much at odds with the spirit of PAPA Festival and its anti-hierarchy values. 

In Jesus and John Wayne, Kristin Kobes Du Mez includes Eldredge in a group of influential men who have shaped evangelical views on gender:

“[They]all preached a mutually reinforcing vision of Christian masculinity—of patriarchy and submission, sex and power. It was a vision… that worshiped power and turned a blind eye to justice, and one that transformed the Jesus of the Gospels into an image of their own making.” 

Eldredge and Garrels spoke about Garrels’s new song “Watchman,” with Eldredge declaring it an anthem for the current moment. It is a song inviting listeners to hold on to a simple faith in Jesus, to keep their “lamp burning through the night” and through Jesus, make their “garments pure and white.” It laments that “darkness is upon us” and a culture where “Truth is looking stranger than the lies.” The conversation on the podcast circles back to these themes.

The podcast illuminates that people like Eldredge—and now, sadly, once-prophetic voices like Garrels—genuinely believe that threats to true Christianity are equal from the left and the right. I have a suspicion that both men do not like Trump and the brand of Christian nationalism that his evangelical followers embrace, but I am convinced that they see the threat of liberal “woke” issues around race, gender, and sexuality as equally or more so detrimental. 

I say “suspicion” because in the entire podcast, neither speaker actually gave any concrete examples of the cultural forces at odds with Jesus-loving people, and yet the whole thing felt like a wink and a nod to the assault on “Christian” gender norms and traditional views about sexuality.  The effect of vague allusions is to give the listener the impression that what true Christians ought to be doing is getting out of culture and politics altogether so that they can focus on a pure Christian life and watching out for the second coming of Jesus. There was no discussion of the role Christians ought to have in justice or what meaningful engagement might look like. If anything, Garrels only seems to reference his earlier flirtation with his PAPA friends as an illusory time when it seemed like there was overlap between the world’s values and that of a Christian. Now, he shared with Eldredge, that illusion is shattered.

The conversation sheds light on an oft-overlooked part of the Christian evangelical demographic: moderates. I use this word for lack of a more specific term for people who are opting out of engagement with politics and secular society. These are people who read books like The Benedict Option and fear the corruption of their deeply held Christian faith by liberal forces, even while disagreeing with extremists on the right as well.

Their answer is to circle their wagons and pull back from things that might align one too closely to a political ideology by doing things like homeschooling or moving to a farm in Indiana and taking stepping away from public life almost altogether, as Garrels and his family have. My encounters with this growing demographic have been with people who would have leaned Republican previously and those who would have voted with Democrats. More and more churches that may have once been called moderate are doubling down on a faith that is primarily personal and spiritual with only secondary (if any) attention to the world’s physical needs.

This type of retreat fills me with a deep sadness, because the tragedies in the world require deeper engagement with issues of justice, not pulling back. The immigrants being bussed from the border to cities need families willing to help house and support them. The ongoing brutality of the war against Gaza needs Christian voices that reject the way the Bible is being used to enable the horror there. The prison system, gun violence, and so much more need all people of faith to join in and get a little messy, not wash their hands and rely on a pure and untouched faith as a ticket to heaven. And people like Josh Garrels have a creative voice that once helped others reject the either/or of loving Jesus or loving the world. Instead, in what can only be described as shameful cowardice, they have retreated to the safe havens of other-worldly platitudes about Jesus. By pulling away from the messiness of life that comes with being “resident aliens”—the term coined by Stanley Hauerwas and Will Willimon for a countercultural Christian identity without abandoning the world—the very faith that they hope to preserve is in danger of becoming even more obsolete. 

In Garrels’s own poignant words from his song “Resistance:” “How do good men become a part of the regime? They don’t believe in resistance.” 

Easter Vigil for Gaza
Bethlehem, March 30th, 2024
Rev. Dr. Munther Isaac

Easter has come upon us in Palestine in the most difficult circumstance. It has been 175 days since this genocide began. 175 days of bombardment, siege and starvation. I would have never thought that we would still be witnessing this by Easter. I thought, surely this violence would have stopped by now. I thought world leaders do have some conscience, at the end of the day! I was wrong, it seems!

Today we have entered a new phase of the war of genocide, in which Gazans are being killed by hunger, thirst and disease. They are starved to death. It is a slow death. They are hanging between heaven and earth, dying slowly, while the world is watching. They have “no form or majesty” that we should look at them… “from whom men hide their face.”

It took more than 5 months, and 32000 people killed including 13000 children for the UN security council to finally pass a cease-fire! But nothing has changed on the ground. Since when does Israel care about UN resolutions? Israel has never been held accountable, or even condemned, by western leaders. This remains the single biggest problem today.

Right now, we are pleading for aid and food to enter. We gave up on a cease-fire! Just bring food, water and medicine. Lord, have mercy.  

Friends, a genocide has been normalized. As people of faith, if we truly claim to follow a crucified savior, we can never be ok with this. We should never accept the normalization of a genocide. We should never be ok with children dying from starvation, not because of drought or famine, but because of a man-made catastrophe! Because of the Empire.  

A genocide has been normalized just as apartheid was normalized in Palestine, and before that in South Africa. Just as slavery and the caste system were normalized. It has been firmly established to us that the leaders of the superpowers, and those who benefit from this modern colonialism, do not look at us as equals. They created a narrative to normalize genocide. They have a theology for it. A genocide has been normalized. This is racism at its worst.

The very same political and church leaders who lined up in October one after the other to give the green line for this genocide, giving it the cover of “self-defense” cannot even bring themselves to condemn the obvious war crimes being committed by Israel. They are good at raising their concern. Making statements that they are “troubled” by the killing of our children. (We are sorry the killing of our children by your weapons troubled you!) They want to convince us that they care. They raise funds. They are silent during the genocide, and then show up afterwards, with charity, to say that they care. Can we really accept this? 

Many countries rushed to suspend their funding of UNRWA based on mere allegations that were not fully proven yet did nothing with regards to the clear findings of the ICJ. The amount of hypocrisy is incomprehensible. The level of racism involved for such hypocrisy is appalling.

Now some politicians claim that their patience with Israel is ending — and we say: nothing can wash the blood from your hands. The UN security council resolution was way too late. It means nothing. Some acted as if we should congratulate or thank the USA for not vetoing the resolution. I say, absolutely not. They are complicit. You cannot undo the past. In fact, the US has just sent another massive missile package to arm Israel. Are they really trying to fool us? Claiming that they care, and that they are concerned (obviously to win back some votes)? If the flow of U.S. weapons stopped right now, within 3 days, this would end. Instead, they send Israel missiles to kill us, and then send a fraction of the needed food parcels. This is beyond complicit. This is direct involvement in this genocide.

In this Easter, we turn first to the Cross

We are mourning. These are dark, dark days. In times like this, we Palestinians look at the cross, identify with the cross, and see Jesus identifying with us. The cross is an important Palestinian symbol. 

In Easter, we re-live his arrest, torture and execution at the hands of Empire — with the complicity of a religious ideology of course. In the Easter story, we find comfort and empowerment in knowing that Jesus identifies with us.

We have kept this rubble in our church since the time of Christmas, because Gaza is still under the rubble, and because our people and our children in Gaza are still being pulled from under the rubble at this very moment.

Yesterday I watched with anguish a cruel scene of a child pulled from under the rubble. He miraculously survived the bombing, and while he was being pulled out, he was saying: “Where is the water, I am thirsty.”

This reminded me of the words of Jesus on the cross, when he cried out: “I am thirsty”. He cried out “I am thirsty” in solidarity with those being massacred by famine, siege and bombardment. Jesus stands in solidarity with all the victims of wars and forced famines, caused by unjust and tyrannical regimes in our world. It is the cry of everyone oppressed by the injustice of power, and humanity’s silence and inability to put an end to tyranny and injustice.

Jesus shouted, “I am thirsty,” so they gave him vinegar to drink. They added more pain to his pain, more anguish to his anguish. Today, while Gaza screams, “I am thirsty,” they drop aid from the sky, stained with the blood of innocents. Some were killed by drowning while trying to pull the dropped aid from the sea. How cruel. Gaza is thirsty, and they give Gaza vinegar.

We searched for God in this war. We cried out to Him, and there was no answer, it seems, until we encountered the Son of God hanging on the cross, crying out: “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” Why did you let me be crucified? Alone? While I am innocent?

This is the cry of feeling abandoned. I am sure this is how Gazans feel today. Abandonment from the world leaders, not only Western, but also Arab and Muslim leaders abandoned us. Many in the church also watched from a distance, like Peter did when Jesus was arrested. Peter wanted to be safe; he lacked the courage… similar to many church leaders today, who say one thing behind closed doors, and another in public.

Yet it is in this cry – “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” that we experience God, that God draws near to us, and it is in this cry that we feel his embrace and warmth. This is one of the mysteries of Easter.

In this land, even God is a victim of oppression, death, the war machine, and colonialism. He suffers with the people of this land, sharing the same fate with them. “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” It is a cry that has resonated for years in this land. It is the cry of every oppressed person hanging in a state of slow death. It is a cry that Jesus shared with us in his pain, torment, and crucifixion. Today we place the cross on the rubble, remembering that Jesus shared the same fate with us, as he died on the cross as a victim of the colonizers.

And it became dark. The universe became dark in grief over the absence of truth. The universe became dark, lamenting the absence of justice. The cross is the ultimate injustice. Today, the universe is saddened by the silence of decision-makers and their racism, and by the silence of many who did not speak a word of truth, out of fear, armed with the theology of neutrality and inaction, under the banner of peace and reconciliation.” There are still those who did not openly call for a cease-fire. We received a letter of “solidarity” from large churches in Europe that did not even call for a cease-fire! I told them this is an absolute insult. 

Today, the universe became dark lamenting the apathy and numbness to suffering that exist in our world, and the racism that led to normalizing and justifying a genocide. 

What many in the church lack the most today is courage. They know the truth. But they are not speaking the truth, because they fear the consequences. They fear the backlash! Many in the church want to avoid controversy. Can you imagine if Jesus walked on earth avoiding controversy! They write statements, and the way church statements dance around the issue of “ceasefire” or (God forbid) condemning Israel is indeed amazing. They write multi-page statements that basically say nothing other than unequivocally condemning October 7th!

There are some church leaders who are willing to sacrifice us for comfort, the same way they offered us as an atonement sacrifice for their own racism and anti-semitism– repenting on our land over a sin they committed in their land!

All of this while claiming to follow a crucified savior, who sacrificed everything, endured pain and rejection for the sake of those he loved!

We of course must thank those who carried our cross with us. We really appreciate the Gaza pilgrimages taking place all over the world. We thank those who came to Palestine to be in solidarity with us. We thank the doctors and nurses volunteering in Rafah. We thank those lobbying to stop weapon sales. We thank those demonstrating in the streets. We thank those who did many sit-ins and non-violent protests. We thank those who keep disturbing the comfort of world-leaders in gatherings and press-conferences and fundraisers. We hear you! This is the church of Christ! 

We salute those who resigned from government and international bodies in protest. They have courage and integrity. They understand that Gaza is indeed the moral compass of our world today.

We thank South Africa for its action in the ICJ, and Algeria for leading the efforts for a cease-fire resolution. Both by the way survivors of colonialism! It is there where the moral credibility lies!

We are carrying a heavy cross. And our Friday has lasted way too long. But we know from the experience of Jesus that this suffering is not for the glorification of suffering. We know that suffering is always a path to glory and life. It is a stop on the road to resurrection. We walk with Jesus on the road to Golgotha. We are empowered by his solidarity with us, but we look for Sunday.

In Easter, we turn to the Empty Tomb

What gave Jesus this strength? This resilience and power — to the extent that he forgave his oppressors? To the extent that he said: your will be done, and went voluntarily to the cross? I believe his resolve and determination – his resilience – came from trusting his Father’ will, and from knowing that his Father is able to raise him from the dead—and that He will ultimately do that! His faith sustained and empowered him. He was defiant in the face of Empire; he faced the cross, and even death, with confidence and steadfastness.

I must admit — it is so difficult today to hold to our faith, and to hope. We cannot see Sunday. It seems an impossibility. We are swallowed by the darkness of the tomb. Our strength has failed. We are weary. 

It is so hard to speak of the resurrection now. We are mourning. Our siblings in Gaza are literally dying from starvation. But we CANNOT lose our faith in God. This is our last resort. As such, we have to fight to keep this faith. We cannot lose our faith. We have to look at the empty tomb. We must remember the empty tomb.

Today, I preach to myself with the psalmist: “Why are you cast down, O my soul, and why are you in turmoil within me? Hope in God; for I shall again praise him, my salvation and my God.”

The Resurrection gives us hope. Christianity is a faith that hopes. Hope is not a denial of reality. We are not blind to our reality, and we as Palestinians realize the corruption and evil of the world — probably more than anybody else. But we must refuse to let this be the last word.

Christ is the Risen – this is the final word. Christ is Risen, and this changes everything. The empty tomb is our hope. Behind the apartheid wall, and specifically in the Church of the Holy Sepulcher in Jerusalem, there is an empty tomb that reminds us that the last word is not that of death, but of life. Not that of darkness, but of light. Not that of genocide and starvation, but of dignity and pride. 

The empty tomb reminds us that evil, injustice or tyranny cannot have the last word. If Christ had remained in his grave, Caesar and Pilate would have triumphed. Rome would have won. And the Pharisees won. The oppressors would have been victorious. But Christ is Risen. The Empire is defeated, and even better, death itself is defeated.

Because we have faith — we do not live in despair. Faith is the only thing they cannot take away from us.

When we declare on Easter Sunday “Al-Maseeh Qam” – Christ is Risen, we declare that the final word belongs to God. We declare that justice is served. Truth is vindicated. The Empire and its allies lost. Today, after two thousand years, by continuing to carry the cross, we defeat and even mock the empire and its theology. We took the symbol of Rome’s power and the means of its humiliation of others, and made it the symbol of our strength, victory, and steadfastness in the face of death, and this is because “Al-Maseeh Qam” – Christ is Risen.

The Resurrection urges us to rise and act! Because we know that the final word belongs to God, we rise and act. We build. We preach love because we know love wins. We preach peace, because peace wins. We preach life because death is defeated. Jesus stared death in the face and defeated it. And therefore, we rise and act.

Conclusion 

Friends: I am confident that we the Palestinians will rise. Never in my life have I been prouder and more honored to be a Palestinian more than these last 175 days. I am proud of our resilience, Sumoud. I am proud of our solidarity with one another; our unity. When I say we will be ok, and that we will recover, I say it because I know my people; I know who we are. Palestine is our homeland. We are deeply rooted here. For those Palestinians exiled around the world, Palestine lives in them. Palestine is in every corner of this earth. We will never relinquish our God-given rights of living in dignity and justice. Yet I also say we will recover because I believe in a good and just God who rules the world with justice. Probably our biggest asset is the justice of our cause. Our Sumud (“steadfastness”) is anchored in our just cause and our historical rootedness in this land, but also in this just nature of God. Because he lives, we can face all things, stare the empire in the face, and defeat it.

So today, let the way of the cross be our way. Let the way of sacrificial love be our way. The crucified Jesus, who sacrificed his life for the sake of those he loved, calls us for costly solidarity, the costly solidarity of love. This is a call to action, for the church to be Jesus’ church — to follow in the footsteps of our crucified savior.

The cross is God’s solidarity with humanity in its pain and suffering, and God’s solidarity must become our solidarity. The followers of Jesus risk all to speak truth to power. This is not about making a statement. Jesus did not say: I was hungry, and you prayed for me and made a statement! Jesus said: I was a prisoner, and you came to me! We must find ways to make a difference. We must act, mobilize, pressure, lobby, hold powers and leaders accountable. As people of the resurrection, we must unsettle the Empire. Today, the land of the resurrection calls you to act, in hope and love. Together, we are committed to end this genocide. Together we are committed to work for truth and justice. We know we will prevail, because Al-Maseeh Qam. Christ is Risen. Amen.