May the words that I speak remind others that they are beloved.

Holding people accountable for the impact of their behavior is not revenge; it’s what makes change and growth possible, and no real healing in community can come without it.

This is a "love saves" story.

Part of being in community is noticing what's needed. Part of being in community is doing what is necessary but unclaimed.

Our conversations about the history of our country—the actions of our ancestors—can be made new and relevant and understandable. We can and must have these conversations.

May we all remember how inextricably we are linked in this fight for justice and freedom.

Jesus had no political power. He lived his whole life in the shadow of the Roman empire, and that empire killed him. Yet Jesus healed the sick, he listened, he moved among the ordinary people, in the lowly places.

In this community, we hold hope close. We don’t always know what comes next, but that cannot dissuade us. We don’t always know just what to do, but that will not mean that we are lost in the wilderness. We rely on the certainty beneath, the foundation of our values and ethics. —Rev. Theresa I.

If we aren’t willing to ask the important, uncomfortable, and even scary questions, we won’t get to larger and deeper truths.

This is the beauty and sparkle of spiritual communities: needs arise and beloveds appear to ask, “How can I help?” There’s no fixed timeline, just the spiritual practices of generosity and stewardship.

Something new could come out of this moment of discomfort; something like healing. This is our opportunity to reimagine what Thanksgiving could be — and who we could be.

An awakening passed through the whole theatre, and as if touched by some invisible hand, the people stood, clapped, shouted with joy, laughed, and wept… It was blessed to be connected to—no, to be a part of a community—a people. —Volker Kühn, in his essay about a cabaret performance during...