I subscribe to a daily meditation through a project called Inward/Outward.  It’s nothing more than a short quote each day.  This morning’s quote was from Anne LeClaire from her writing Listening Below the Noise.  It said, “The trouble is, not knowing what to say, too often we say something anyway.” There is good wisdom in these words.  There’s humility, even humor.  There’s a part of me that is speechless in the face of what we’ve been bombarded with over the last months, with last night, early this morning, as a massive, silencing, exclamation point. “The trouble is, not knowing what to say, too often we say something anyway.” Today I’m living between the counsel of these words, and a sense of responsibility to not be silent.  There is much that needs said.  There are voices we need to be listening to and joining in solidarity with. If you need

Last Saturday, nearly 20 members of Columbus Mennonite got the opportunity to partner with around 20 members of Cincinnati Mennonite to tour the National Underground Railroad Freedom Center in downtown Cincinnati and discuss the ways our respective congregations are working toward racial justice.  The day was rich with good discussion, fresh insights, and a renewed sense of the horrible legacy upon which so much of our society has been built.  One moment of the day has stuck with me, however, and I have continued to wrestle with it.  At the end of the tour, our group gathered inside the slave pen that had been donated to the museum.  We sat inside that reconstructed barn and learned about the conditions in which slaves were kept and the process by which they were bought and sold.  Even though it had been sterilized and treated to be able to keep the barn inside

  When a 10+ year old book comes into your life from two unrelated sources within the span of a week, it might be worth paying attention.  That book for me this week was Parker Palmer’s A Hidden Wholeness: The Journey Toward An Undivided Life.  I’m on page 14 so am barely worthy of commenting on it, but the title itself is a phrase I needed to be reminded of. “A hidden wholeness” comes from Thomas Merton’s poem “Hagia Sophia”: “There is in all things…a hidden wholeness.  There is in all things an inexhaustible sweetness and purity, a silence that is a foundation of action and joy. It rises up in gentleness and flows out to me from the unseen roots of all created being.” Much of this past year has been diving deeper into the broken legacy of racial injustice.  For those of us who don’t experience this on

If this election season is sucking your will to live, here’s a breath of fresh air.  HERE is a reflection guide for voters called “Faith, Values, and the 2016 Election: Toward a Politics of the Golden Rule.”  It is published by Faith in Public Life and has strong ecumenical and interfaith endorsement.  The Ohio Director of Faith in Public Life, Amanda Hoyt, lives just up the street from the church and is delivering these far and wide.  We’ll have paper copies on the table by the entrance to the sanctuary. In four pages the booklet gives commentary and broad policy proposals with these headers: An Economy of Inclusion Global Warming: A threat to creation and our children’s future Dignity, Welcome, and Citizenship for Immigrants Gun Violence Restorative and Racial Justice Protecting our Nation, Affirming our Values The Introduction to the booklet states: “Politics as usual is insufficient for the urgent

Last evening after our Worship Commission met I went into the sanctuary to experience worship of another kind, the service already underway.  About 100 members of the Little Minyan Jewish congregation were beginning their observance of the holiest day of the year, Yom Kippur, the Day of Atonement.  The congregation is in the Reconstructionist stream of Judaism – theologically and socially progressive while valuing traditional liturgy.  They use our space for their high holy days.  Their spiritual leader, Jessica Shimberg, gave an invitation to join them at any time.  I found a seat in the back as a cello and piano were playing a hauntingly mournful piece.  Everyone was standing. In looking through their prayer book, I noted that one of the first prayers for Yom Kippur reads: “We accept into our midst whoever seeks to pray.  Whether righteous or unrighteous, all shall pray as one community.” The commentary below